Yes, I am not here. Yes, I am on vacation. Yes, I wrote this post before I left. Yes, I scheduled this to appear while I am gone. It is not time-sensitive, because all these people from Nigeria, and Ghana, and Mali, and Burkina Faso are big on talk and short on action. I’m now to the point that I don’t expect an answer to my messages. I don’t even know why I bother writing back to them at all.
The last chapter in my search for riches beyond the dreams of avarice has petered out. For those of you who haven’t been keeping score, that chapter was MALIAN RICHES AWAIT!. Ecobank and The Bank of Africa (Burkina Faso branch) never wrote back. Also, despite the fact that I offered them a very easy way to send me my money via PayPal, that didn’t happen.
I may have made a tactical error in threatening to sic Interpol on their ass for extortion when I wrote them. I think I need to do a better job controlling my temper. I just didn’t realize how sensitive bankers can be. I thought all bankers were a bunch of human-sized reptiles with scaly reptile skin and predatory dispositions and antifreeze for blood. Maybe the ones in Africa are warm-blooded. Maybe their feelings can be hurt after all. I think I need to be more empathetic, more laid back. I need to shine their shoes with my tongue.
Fortunately, just as I was about to shitcan the designs for the Cube Pool, the Lorisarium, and the Grolsch Vortex Fountain and tell the contractors I hired that they would have to chase me down like an animal if they wanted their money, I got a new message from a different bank in Burkina Faso. So I have a chance to put into practice my new tactic of being all sweetness and light.
I’ve always heard that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, so I might as well try to drown them in honey. Can’t hurt, right? Putting to one side why you’d want to catch flies in the first place; I’ve never really understood why anyone would want to do that. I’d rather just eat the honey and let the flies go somewhere else.
Where was I? Oh yeah, the latest message from Burkina Faso. That’s after the jump, along with my heart-felt reply . . .
From: “Mr. Usen Ibro”
Date: November 1, 2010 5:04:58 PM PDT
To: undisclosed recipients: ;
Subject: CONFIDENTIAL DEAL
Greetings From Mr.Usen Ibro,
I understand that through Internet is not the best way to link up with you because of the confidentiality which my proposal demands.
However, I have already sent you this same letter one month ago, but I am not sure if it did get to you since I have not heard from you, hence i am constrain to reach you through the Internet which has been abused over the years.
I wish to notify you again that You were listed as a Heir to the total sum of ($13.5000,000.00) in the codicil and last testament of the deceased. (This is my second letter to you). We contacted you because you bear the surname identity and therefore can present you as the Heir to the inheritance funds in our Bank (AFRICAN DEVELOPMENT BANK BURKINA FASO).
Please indicate your interest immediately for us to proceed. I shall feed you with full details of this transaction upon receipt of your reply towards this proposal.
All the legal papers will be processed in your acceptance. In your acceptance of this deal, we request that you kindly forward to us your letter of acceptance;
1. Full name
2: Your private telephone and Fax numbers.
3. Occupations and Nationality.
4. Date Of Birth
5. Present Location
6. E-mail Address
To enable us file necessary documents at our high court probate division for the release of this sum of money.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you for your interest in NO CLEAN SINGING, and
hails and horns Hail Santa! to you and your fellow bankers, may you live long and prosper. Please do not be concerned about having to contact me over the Internet. I’m just so fucking glad you were able to locate my e-mail address. Contacting me that way, despite the potential breaches of security because of those Internet abuses, is a shitload better than not contacting me at all, right? Because that letter you say you sent me, it just never arrived.
You probably sent that letter to an outdated address. I’ve got these contractors after my ass because of some design work I asked them to do for important personal projects I thought I would have the money to pay for,
based on promises of money from assorted other douchebag bankers, slimy motherfuckers from the British High Commission in Nigeria, women “surfering” from ovarian cancer, and other reptilians pretending to be human. So I have to stay on the move, like a sleek, silent panther.
Based on your message, it seems I have another long-lost relative who bit the dust, leaving me with an inheritance. I don’t know who these people are, but given how many of them seem to be scattered around the globe, dropping like flies and leaving behind huge treasure troves of cash, my ancestors
must have fucked everything in sight must have been good family people, because I sure seem to have a lot of relatives I’ve never heard of in faraway lands.
I definitely want you to “feed me with full details” just as soon as possible. I love to be fed with details when it involves enormous sums of money. Details aren’t as stomach-filling as big piles of cash, but hey, it’s a start.
I do have one tiny question, which I really hope you won’t take the wrong way. It has to do with exactly how much money will be coming my way.
Your message referred to the sum of money as “$13.5000,000.00”. I don’t really understand what this means.
Are you a fucking retard? Maybe it’s just the way illiterate motherfuckers smart bankers in Burkina Faso write currency amounts, but there’s a period after the 13 and then there’s a 5000, followed by a comma. So, is this supposed to represent Thirteen Million Five Hundred Thousand Dollars or Thirteen Billion Five Hundred Million Dollars or Thirteen Dollars and Fifty Cents? I’m really hoping for the Thirteen Billion Five Hundred Million answer. If it’s Thirteen Dollars and Fifty Cents, then just forget the whole motherfucking thing and go back to pounding your pud.
So, anyway, here’s all my personal details:
1. Full name: I.S. Lander
2: Your private telephone and Fax numbers: (666) 666-6666 is the phone; what is a “fax”?
3. Occupations and Nationality: Part-time metal blogger and full-time half-wit; Citizen of the Underworld
4. Date Of Birth: Unknown (I am an orphan and was discovered floating down a river in a small craft made of bulrushes)
5. Present Location: The
FuckingIsland Where I Live (pointless for me to give you my present location, because it will change by tomorrow)
6. E-mail Address: Haha! Dude, you already have it!
I hope this info will be satisfactory for your high court probate division (I think the courts in my country would do a better job if they were high all the time, too — awesome idea).
So again, Usen (and I hope I can call you Usen), thank you so much for e-mailing me with this most welcome news of my inheritance. May you live long and prosper. If you take care of this quickly,
with no fucking around, there’ll be a nice tip in it for you.
P.S. I am enjoying a long-awaited and much-deserved vacation, but have no fear: I will be checking my e-mail religiously so I can find out without delay whether it’s Thirteen Billion Five Hundred Million or just chump change for naive morons, which I am not.
P.P.S. Be straight with a brother — you don’t have scaly skin or antifreeze for blood, do you Usen?
EDITOR’S NOTE FROM A FARWAY LAND: Wouldn’t you know it. After I wrote this post and days into my vacation, I got an e-mail from the Crown Prince of Nigerian Douchebags, Robert Scott Dewar, who has been ignoring me for weeks. Him I don’t need to treat nicely. However, since I am under a no-blogging edict while on vacation, that reply will have to await my return to the NCS Island. Our string of guest posts resumes tomorrow.