
So, maybe you thought I’d lost interest in all the Africans trying to give me money? Or maybe you thought all those African would-be benefactors had lost interest in me? Maybe you thought I’d shelved my plans for the beer-filled Cube pool, the Grolsch vortex fountain, the Lorisarium filled with delectable slugs, Fleshgod Apocalypse at my personal beck and call, and all the other grand plans for my promised wealth, including at least a $500 contribution to US orphanages?
Well, perish all those thoughts. You haven’t seen more e-mail exchanges with those African philanthropists for the sole reason that I’ve been busy with other important shit, like listening to Finnish metal, venting about Christmas, and generally sitting on my ass day-dreaming.
But it’s time to pick up the thread. (And no, this doesn’t take the place of another installment in Finland Tribute Week — we’ll have that for you in another hour or two.)
Though discouraged by the lack of follow-through from some of the motherfuckers people who contacted me from places like Nigeria, Ghana, Mali, and Burkina Faso, I haven’t given up hope. Surely, the day will come when my dreams of avarice will become glorious reality. In fact, a new opportunity has presented itself, courtesy of a touching e-mail from a young woman in the Ivory Coast (officially known as The Republic of Côte d’Ivoire), a country in West Africa that borders the afore-mentioned nations of Ghana, Mali, and Burkina Faso.
Oh — I also got yet another e-mail from Robert Scott Dewar. You remember him, don’t you? He’s one of those cocksuckers officials at the British High Commission in Abuja, Nigeria, who first led me down the path that I now can’t get off of. If you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, and assuming you care to know, you can read about it here and here. And there’s even more of this nonsense available via the IQ Subtraction category link over on the right side of this page.
So, after the jump, my recent exchange with Ms. Rose Ture, plus my effort, once and finally, to put Mr. Dewar in his proper place (which would be about a yard up the hershey highway of a bull elephant). Continue reading »









