The Case Of The Crypto Spammer

 

They are the worst of the worst. A vile, drooling, unscrupulous lot without morals or integrity. No, not politicians, but even worse. I speak, of course, of that horrid subspecies of humanity we call homo sapiens spammeritis irritatingus. Also known as the internet scammer and spammer, who send us random emails promising a get rich scheme, or spam our comments with the same sort of crap. The following came from one of their lot, who used a fake name, fake photo, and claimed to be an accountant.

As an accountant, I'm typically cautious with my finances. However, last year, I felt pressure to join the cryptocurrency market, fearing I'd miss out on potential gains. An Instagram ad for CBEX Trading caught my attention, with its professional website, real-time charts, and promising testimonials. A representative named Elena guided me through the platform, offering a $200 welcome bonus. Convinced by their promises, I invested $87,000 worth of Bitcoins.
But when CBEX's website crashed, and all communication channels were severed, I realized I had been scammed. Devastated and lost, I searched for ways to recover my funds. That's when I discovered Morphohack, a reputable crypto recovery service. Their expertise and track record gave me hope.

Morphohack's team worked diligently to track down my stolen bitcoins and successfully recovered it from the CBEX scam. I'm grateful for their exceptional service and expertise. Thanks to Morphohack, I was able to recover my losses. If you've fallen victim to a CBEX/PCEX Scam, I highly recommend Morphohack's services.

We've seen this crap before. This scam has several variations on the same story, as this halfwit responded to a previous post on cyber scams. He wants me to believe this story (I don't) of miraculously getting money back after losing a five figure sum in crypto-currency. Well, let's make at least one thing perfectly clear- crypto-currency is the sort of rabbit hole I would never go down. Not with the sort of dirtbags who endorse it. 

He weaves his little tale of how he, a cautious accountant, sunk all that money into crypto, only to have it go south on him. And then he touts this company with what he claims to be "reputable". This, despite the fact that the first company to come up with that name leads to a dead end online. So you'll excuse me if I'm not exactly confident of this nonsense in the first place. As well, I've seen it before. For a guy who claims to be an accountant (I doubt this very much), you're really, really stupid.

Nice try.

Honestly, man, what is it about finding a real job that's so hard for you? Why do you insist on being like this? Sending random comments with a fake story, or random emails, promising riches that will never be? This is not a productive use of your time. The vast majority of people see you for what you are.

But since you persist in this crap, let me just leave you with a warning.

Take it seriously. 

The Remake That No One Wanted

 

Director Announces New Spin On Old Story; Reporters Sigh In Dismay, Jack and Rose Fans Outraged

Los Angeles (AP) It is a truth universally acknowledged that an egomaniac director is in want of attention. So is the case once again this week when reporters were called to the production facilities of Digital Domain, one of the perpetual playgrounds of the director behind explosion prone spectacles like Armageddon, Pearl Harbor, and the Transformers franchise.

The one and only legend in his own mind, Michael Bay.

This reporter was sent to be part of the party (editor: yeah, sorry, but the readers love to read your gripes), which included some real reporters and a horde of entertainment reporters. The latter had not one brain cell circulating among them as they gathered in an auditorium at Digital Domain. A podium had been set up on stage, with a large standing mirror beside it. The entertainment reporters were buzzing. A spokeswoman came out on stage, calling for everyone's attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, let me present the greatest cinematic genius of our time, Mr. Michael Bay!!!!"

The entertainment reporters broke out into rapturous applause. The real reporters sighed and shook their heads. Out onto the stage strode Michael Bay, looking his usual self. The three days of stubble. The dishevelled hair. The casual look. He grinned like an idiot- his default setting- and walked towards the podium. He paused, winked at his reflection, and smiled some more (editor: he really is full of himself).

Finally he faced the audience. "Hi there! Great to see you. I know you're all wondering what I've called you here for, so let's not waste any time. I've been meaning to get back and do something by the way of historical drama. With explosions. So I am here to announce my next blockbuster film, which we're calling Curse Of The Titanic!"

A gasp went up from the real reporters, but was drowned out by the entertainment reporters. First, Titanic had been pretty much definitively done by director James Cameron, winning Oscars and unleashing a torrent of memes, particularly as time has gone on and one of its stars has shown an inability to date his own age (editor: Leonardo DiCaprio, we're looking at you). Second, who would entrust Michael Bay with the subject.

Bay carried on. "Now I know what you're thinking. This has been done before, and that's true. Which is why I'm not going to have the sinking of the ship be the heart and soul of this story. I'm going to feature it, yes, but early on, because that's not the story I want to tell."

This reporter checked his watch, wondering how long this nonsense might take. Bay continued. "No, it's been done. What I want to play around with is the idea of... what if the ship sank for other reasons? And what if the one person who should have stayed on board, if only for the sake of his own reputation, would be forever haunted. By the real reason for the sinking."

"What on earth is your angle?" this reporter asked (editor: is he on drugs?). 

"My angle is simple. That iceberg was sent to collide with the ship. Sent by a ship that was cursed to sail the seas until the end of time. A ship we all know as the Flying Dutchman."

The legend is an old one, a ghost story set at sea involving a cursed crew doomed to sail the seas forever. But of all the stories about Titanic, nowhere is there mention of a ghostly ship. 

"Are you out of your mind?" another reporter asked.

Bay shook his head. "No, why do people keep saying that? Now look, all I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe, a ship that was only seen by one person sent that iceberg into a collision course. And that one person spent the rest of his life haunted. So, ladies and gentlemen, playing my protagonist, Mr. Bruce Ismay, is the one and only Nicolas Cage!"

Cage came out on stage, looking plastered, carrying a half empty bottle of Scotch. "Hey there!" he called out, staggering his way over join Bay.

"Your protagonist is Bruce Ismay? The chairman of White Star? Forever after considered a coward for getting off Titanic? That Bruce Ismay?" this reporter challenged.

"Yes, but this is what happens to him afterwards," Bay reasoned. "This is the story of the man who glimpses the Dutchman, realizes that somehow it caused the sinking, and kind of loses his senses and goes into a lifeboat to escape. And spends the rest of his life haunted by that choice. Literally. Because did I mention this is also a horror movie?" This reporter sighed (editor: horror movie is being subjected to this nonsense).

Bay continued on. "And our boy Bruce is haunted. He spends the years after Titanic trying to rationalize one dumb decision without saying why he made that decision, being seen as a coward... and literally being haunted by that night. Because whether it's when he's asleep or when he's awake, he's not only haunted by the ghosts of the Titanic, he's also haunted by images of that cursed sailing ship. Until he has to come to terms with it once and for all. Which will, of course, involve explosions."

"What is it with you and explosions?" another reporter asked. "Is it some kind of kink for you?"

"Yes, but that's not important," Bay stated. "What is important is that people love my films, they love the story of the Titanic, they love ghost stories, and they're going to love this film. Coming soon to a theatre near you! As soon as I get all the other stuff I'm working on done. Because I've got a lot on my plate. Bye!"

With that, he departed, to the applause of the entertainment reporters, and to middle fingers from the real reporters (editor: he is an insufferable egomaniac). This reporter can't agree more with that.

The Wrath Of An Easter Bunny

The Easter weekend is upon us, and I have an image blog for the occasion. Enjoy!

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

 And now it is time for the point of view of the cat, who must always have the last word in these.

7:02 AM. Waking up. Slept well. Had zoomies at some point through the house. 

7:04 AM. An inspection of the exterior from the back of the couch out the windows. Flying lunches pecking around in the grass. 

7:09 AM. Waiting on the staff to get down here and see to my breakfast.

7:21 AM. The staff finally turns up. It's about time, staff, I was about to send a search party after you.

7:22 AM. Reminding the staff of my particular wants and needs for breakfast. None of which involves field rations. Are we clear on that, staff?

7:24 AM. The staff puts my breakfast down on the floor. The bowl of milk and plate of tuna are welcome. The bowl of field rations is not.

7:26 AM. I have finished off the milk and tuna. I shall ignore the field rations and leave the staff to have her breakfast in peace and quiet.

7:38 AM. Somewhere off in the distance, that stupid mutt is barking his head off.

7:42 AM. The staff is on her way out to that place she calls work. Very well, staff. You have my leave to go. But remember, we're running low on milk.

7:45 AM. The staff has driven off in the car. Now then, how shall I occupy the remainder of the day?

8:02 AM. Watching the Weather Network. They're calling for some snow tonight. Well, even though it's technically spring, we've had False Spring. We are now in Third Winter.

10:51 AM. Waking up from a nap. One can never have enough of those.

11:22 AM. Sauntering into the kitchen, feeling a bit hungry.

Oh, right, all that's out in the open is that bowl of field rations.

Oh, well....

11:25 AM. Well, that will have to tide me over until the staff gets home.

1:29 PM. My nap is disturbed by the barking from that foul hound from down the road.

The mailman must be stopping by from the sounds of it.

2:40 PM. Zoomies are called for. Breaking out into a sprint around the house to see if I can break my all time fastest time.

4:56 PM. The staff arrives at home. I see she has grocery bags. Very good.

Well, staff, if you happen to find a few things overturned, in my defense a cat having zoomies is not responsible for their actions.

5:03 PM. Supervising the staff while she puts the groceries away. Staff? Where is the catnip?

6:27 PM. Dinner with the staff. She's made meatloaf for herself with her vegetables, but has cut up some slices for me. Very good, staff, very good indeed.

6:45 PM. Leaving the staff to do her post-dinner thing. After all, cats are not made for doing dishes.

7:04 PM. The staff settles on the couch with me. I shall grace her with cuddles and purrs.

8:26 PM. Pondering the great mysteries of life. Who made the first ball of yarn?

9:10 PM. A glance outside into the night. Yeah, looks like it's snowing.

11:35 PM. The staff is off to bed. Good night, staff, sleep well. But do keep the door open.

I have zoomies scheduled in the night, after all.