The Curse Of The Internet Scammers

 They are a vile and loathsome lot, and serve no purpose in life. They contaminate our email junk folders with get rich schemes and spam we couldn't care less about. They try to spam our comments with off topic nonsense that proves they're not paying any attention to what we're actually saying. I speak, of course, of that cursed sub-species of humanity otherwise known as homo sapiens spammeritis annoyingus, aka the internet scammer. This came through my email recently.

Please i need your help

GREETINGS AND BLESSINGS OF THE DAY TO YOU, I am Miss. Jane konan, Please can i trust you? to assist me to invest my inheritance fund in your country? and to help me to come over to your country for the betterment of my life and continue my education. I will be happy to hear from you.

Please, get back to me via my private email address:( missjanekonan1@att.net ).for more information.

BEST REGARDS,
MISS.JANE KONAN.

Well, this one is shorter than some of the essay length crap I tend to see. But the tell-tales of the spammer are clear to see. She (he, or it) starts out with all capitals in a sentence, which comes across as screaming. There are punctuation and capitalization issues in this brief bit of nonsense, such as putting a period after Miss, and not capitalizing the surname. You'd think they'd know this, but of course, Jane Konan isn't their real name.

They ask if they can trust me. About as much as I'd trust you, which is not at all. Because if this was real (it's not), I'd be rifling through that fake inheritance inside of a minute.

I mean, why not? It's the sort of thing whoever is on the other side of this long line of email addresses is willing to do to the poor sucker who actually believes it. Once they've got them hooked, they'll mention the 'processing fees' or 'administrative fee' of a few thousand dollars that must be sent first to free up that money. They're perfectly willing to screw people over that way.

But at any rate, I don't buy it. I've seen this all too often, and am wise to your ways.

Nice try, numbskull. You really must be desperate if you keep doing this, as opposed to... oh, finding an honest way to make a living. But it won't work on me. Maybe you'll get lucky and one or two people in that list of half a million random email addresses you've sent this off to will be dumb enough to believe it, and dumb enough to send that 'administrative fee'. 

Or maybe you'll just do the world a favour and drop into Middle Earth and run into this guy.

The Feast Of The Infernal Haggis

 Robert Burns Day is this week. I have an image blog for the occasion.

A Day In The Life Of A Cat

 And now it is time for the cat to have her say, because she must always have the last word.

7:05 AM. Waking up. A big stretch and a yawn. Slept well. Dreamed of catnip. So much catnip.

7:08 AM. Examining the exterior pre-dawn through the windows. More snow in the night. And more to come, no doubt.

7:14 AM. Waiting on the staff to get down here and start seeing to my breakfast. After all, I have a busy day planned. In between naps.

7:22 AM. The staff finally gets downstairs. I begin to remind her of my breakfast requirements.

7:23 AM. ....and furthermore, staff, let's knock it off with giving me field rations. You and I both know that I don't like them anyway and will make a point of rejecting them. So why do you persist in pouring a bowl of them?

7:25 AM. The staff has put my breakfast down. The bowl of milk and plate of tuna are approved of.

I shall ignore the bowl of field rations. 

7:27 AM. Finished with breakfast. Have ignored the field rations as planned. 

7:35 AM. Off in the distance, I can hear barking. It's that foul hound from down the road.

What an idiot.

7:43 AM. The staff is on her way out the door. Very well, staff. Do be mindful of the weather. And remember to bring milk home from the store, in case we're stranded for a few days.

8:01 AM. Watching the Weather Channel. They're predicting Snowmaggedon again.

Come on, people, less drama. 

8:32 AM. Dozing on a windowsill overlooking the back yard, feeling content.

8:35 AM. Movement has caught my eye.... something on the property.... wait a minute, it's that idiot mutt!

8:36 AM. Telling off that dog and warning him to get off my property or there will be hell to pay.

Get out, foul hound! You heard me!

8:37 AM. The dog has withdrawn back into the woods. The sooner the better.

I hate dogs.

9:07 AM. Okay, so I've been up for two whole hours already.

Time for a well deserved nap.

11:39 AM. Waking up. Feeling a bit peckish.

11:41 AM. After much internal debate in the kitchen, I shall have to make do and have some of the field rations.

11:45 AM. Dismayed by having to resort to eating field rations.

1:32 PM. My nap is disturbed by the distant barking of that foul hound. It's mailman time again, and that schmuck doesn't get that the guy is just doing his job.

4:48 PM. The staff returns home. Well done, staff, just ahead of the blizzard.

Did you remember the milk?

4:52 PM. Supervising the staff as she unpacks groceries. I approve of the milk.

6:36 PM. Dinner with the staff. She's made apple pancakes, and has given me a plateful, cut up into bite sized pieces. Very good, staff.

8:25 PM. Lying on the couch in the living room, pondering the great mysteries of existence. Is the purr the meaning of life?

11:30 PM. The staff is off to bed. Very well, staff, good night. But keep the door open. I reserve all rights to run around at three in the morning, and I will not be denied because of a closed door.

A Day In The Life Of A Dog

 It is time once again for the perspective of the dog and the cat. As is always the case, the dog gets the first say in these things, since he's so easily distracted by literally everything around him.

7:10 AM. Waking up at home. Big stretch and a yawn. Slept exceedingly well. Dreamed of chasing squirrels through the snow.

7:12 AM. A look outside. Okay, so we're dealing with a lot of snow on the ground. And as I recall from the weather forecast last night, more of it to come in the afternoon. Well, I don't mind that. Lots of opportunities to run and play in it. But first things first. Breakfast. Priorities, Loki, priorities.

7:16 AM. Waiting patiently on the human to do get downstairs and see to my breakfast.

7:20 AM. Thumping my tail as the human arrives downstairs. Good morning, human! Fine day, isn't it? Say, how about we get started on my breakfast? I don't know about you, but I'm starving. I haven't eaten in nine hours, you know...

7:23 AM. The human is pouring me a big bowl of kibbles. 

Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy....

7:24 AM. Licking my chops after polishing off breakfast just three seconds shot of the all time fastest finish.

7:28 AM. Making inquiries with the human as to if she'll let me out for my run.

7:30 AM. Out the door and on my way. See you later, human!

7:36 AM. Running through the back fields, barking my head off, as happy as I can be.

7:52 AM. Stopping in to see Spike the Magnificent, Tormentor of Squirrels. Hey, Spike!

7:53 AM. After customary doggie greetings, Spike and I get to talking about important matters. The cold weather. Potential opportunities to bark at the mailman. What the squirrels have planned.

8:01 AM. Spike and I talk about what the weather forecasters are calling Snowmageddon. Come on, it's just a snowstorm. This is Canada. These things happen. Spike, those people are silly. Maybe not as silly as that weather guy who kept saying we'll have to eat the dead, but last I heard, he was in an insane asylum.

8:10 AM. Parting ways with Spike. See you later!

8:31 AM. Passing through the woods, realizing that I'm near the property where that cranky cat lives. I think I'll stop by and say hello.

8:35 AM. Coming onto the property, sniffing about. Oh, wait... there she is at a window.

8:36 AM. The cat howls and hisses at me as if I'm the most unwelcome pest she's ever seen.

I don't understand cats.

8:50 AM. Coming back home. Human! It is I, Loki. Annoyer of Mailmen and Chewer of Slippers. Let me in!

8:52 AM. The human intercepts me with the Towel of Torment to dry me off before I can sneak inside. Human, I only rolled through four snow drifts.

12:35 PM. The human is having lunch. I mooch a ham and cheese sandwich off her.

6:23 PM. Dinner time. The human has made macaroni and meat, and has given me a plate. Boy, is this good!

6:48 PM. The human is doing dishes. I'd help, human, but really, I'd end up dropping dishes and making a mess of everything.

8:01 PM. The weather forecasters are using that word again. Snowmageddon. Stop exaggerating. It's only forty centimeters. On top of the ninety five centimeters we've already got on the ground.

11:37 PM. The human is off to bed. Well, good night, human. Sleep well. The snow will fall, and we might have to shovel ourselves out the front door in the morning. And by we, I mean you.