The Strange Case Of The Scottish National Dish

Robbie Burns Day is coming up. I have an image blog for the occasion. Enjoy!

And don't eat the haggis. 

The Very Unethical Banking Scam

No matter how many times they're told to go to hell (rather hot this time of year), they do not listen. I speak, of course, of the internet scammers and spammers, that vile lot of repugnances otherwise known as homo sapiens spammeritis annoyingus. They keep at it all the time, leaving our blogs infested with random crap comments that have nothing at all to do with the post. They send us emails promising riches that will never come- because, well, they're scammers. 

The following came through to my email some weeks ago.

From: UBS Investment Bank (London)
1 Golden Lane, London.
EC 1Y 0RR, United Kingdom.
The Operations Manager,

Do accept my sincere apologies if my mail does not meet your personal ethics,however, this correspondence is unofficial and private and it should be treated as such. First. I am Mr. Gerald Johnson, the Operations Manager with the UBS Investment International Bank here in London. I am contacting you based on my personal interest in developing a mutual business relationship with you in your country. One of our accounts with a holding balance of GBP7,549,250.00 has been dormant for many years. Please I am asking for your partnership in re-profiling the funds. First of all I solicit your assistance to execute this transaction which will be covered up by me with my status here in the bank. If you are interested to know more, please email me back so we can discuss more about this great business opportunity.

Yours Sincerely,
Gerald Johnson

Sigh. Okay, where do we start? Well, there's some of the usual tell-tales of the internet scammer. Punctuation and spacing issues. Formality in the wording that seems too formal, and far too much like you'd expect out of the internet scammer that this is. He says that this is 'unofficial and private and should be treated as such'. Too bad I'm now making a point of making it public. 

Because it's a scam. Pure and simple. 

Because dangling 7.5 million pounds out in front of random strangers isn't done by real bankers. No, they're too busy figuring out ways to siphon money into their own secret accounts that nobody else knows about. Same as every other banker in the home office. They simply aren't going to be seeking out random strangers on the internet to offer a too good to be true deal.

Side note: I don't have much respect for bankers, but more so than I do for salespeople.

Because it's too good to be true. Since it's fake. There's no money.

The idiot, interestingly enough, uses the phrase "will be covered up by me with my status here in the bank". A curious way of saying it, because if the money was real and the banker was real (they're not), that would qualify as an admission of a criminal act. 

It is a criminal act- trying to rob the gullible blind with this nonsense. But it's not the crime of financial mismanagement that this 'banker' is proposing. Because, again, he's not a real banker, and his name isn't even Gerald. It's whatever the hell his real name is at the far end of a long line of email addresses leading to some nitwit, perhaps in a former Soviet republic.

Nice try, pal, but as I've said before, I've seen far too much of this nonsense, so I know when I see this kind of email that it's nothing more than a scam. Perhaps one of the five hundred thousand other people you sent this to might bite at the irresistible bait (at least until they realize they were robbed after paying an 'administrative fee'), but I know better. 

Now go away, or sooner or later, I'm going to suggest you spend some unpleasant time on one of these things.

Murder Suspects And Mishaps

I have an image blog today. Enjoy!

Death Threats And Pitchforks

Murder Trial Ends With A Not Entirely Unexpected Verdict; Accused Vows Blood Vengeance

Calgary (CP) What has been described as the Trial Of The Century (the latest of them if you keep track as they pass by) has come to a conclusion in a provincial courthouse in Calgary. Once a famous mystery author and then outed as the alleged most prolific serial killer in history, there is nothing alleged anymore about the defendant. Instead a guilty verdict has been reached in the case of the Crown v Fletcher. Jessica Fletcher has been found guilty on all charges in what may be the first of many trials to come, depending on whether or not prosecutors in other jurisdictions decide to go ahead with cases against her.

In a dramatic trial that spanned weeks and featured testimony from forensics experts, multiple law enforcement personnel (including the legendary Mountie who finally brought her in), witnesses, and those testifying to the character of the defendant, as well as emotional outbursts from the defendant, the case captivated not only a nation, but the world. Fans of the author, whose decades of writing murder mysteries caught hold with a substantial readership, seem in denial about the verdict, brought down by a jury with two days of deliberation.

“It just can’t be,” Hugo Cavendish, President of the Free Our Jessica Society told reporters outside the courthouse, tears in his eyes as he absorbed the verdict, along with hundreds of other members of the group, as well as members of the Jessica Fletcher Fan Club.  “Our Jessica is the kindest, most loving grandma figure you could possibly imagine, not an evil serial killer. She’s been framed. Framed, I tell you! So what are we going to do about it?” he called out to his associates.

“Burn down the courthouse!” everyone cried out in unison.

“Hell yeah!” Cavendish replied.

And so with that, hundreds of Fletcherites tried to storm the courthouse, toting pitchforks and torches they’d bought at a pop-up pitchfork and torch stand that had sprung up in the park across the street. Local police, anticipating trouble, pushed them back and broke up the riot, making multiple arrests, including that of Harry Walden, the pitchfork and torch stand operator. While being booked as an accessory to a riot, Walden was heard to say, “All I was doing was identifying a niche market and selling to it. Who needs a permit to do that?”

Inside the courthouse, the verdict came down after a high stakes legal duel between the Crown attorney and the defense attorney, Joni Mitchell (not that Joni Mitchell). When the guilty verdict was announced, Jessica Fletcher rose to her feet and started screaming at the jury. The sight of an elderly woman, at first glance looking like the proverbial kindly granny, spouting every curse word under the sun, is still something that takes getting used to. And then she turned into the audience as court security officers closed in on her, and glared at the man who had finally ended her murder spree.

Inspector Lars Ulrich, the cranky but legendary Mountie, testified in the trial about the investigation into the Fletcher case and the larger issues- cases in other jurisdictions, the infamous diary keeping records of thousands of murders, and other elements of the saga. Ulrich seemed to be the focal point for Fletcher’s rage on a regular basis, and it wasn’t any different this time. She focused in on him, and seethed. “I will rip your heart out and eat it while it’s still beating, Ulrich! Do you hear me??? I will have your head on a pike and feast on your bone marrow!”

The Inspector, often given to saving the world and knocking out entertainment reporters who mistake him for The Other Lars Ulrich, is not known for smiling. And yet on occasion he does. Such was the case in court, where he smirked at Fletcher and gave her a bit of a wave as she was removed from court, ranting and raging.

Sentencing is scheduled for August. The convicted murderer has been returned to custody where she’s been since her arrest, in a high security facility. The Crown will be pushing hard to have her designated as a dangerous offender for an indefinite sentence, and is otherwise determined to have her sentenced to serve time consecutively on each count.  Joni Mitchell has not yet said what her strategy will be for the sentencing phase. Leaving the courthouse, the young attorney knocked out an entertainment reporter who mistook her for the singer of the same name.

“I don’t understand,” Grady Fletcher, the nephew of the convicted, told reporters outside the courthouse. “I’ve known Aunt Jessica all my life. I still can’t believe that she would have done all the things she’s been accused of. All those people. It just can’t be.” In the opinion of this reporter, it is quite possible that Grady Fletcher might not be the sharpest knife in the block.

The man whose dogged determination ended the killing spree of history’s most prolific serial killer had his own take on things. Inspector Lars Ulrich emerged from court to a flurry of questions from actual reporters, each of whom understood full well that he was not that Lars Ulrich. “Justice has been done,” he said, satisfied with the verdict. When asked if he felt any trepidation about Fletcher’s repeated threats to his life, the Inspector shook his head. “Given what I’ve taken on and taken down on numerous occasions, threats coming from a psychotic mass murdering granny don’t even come close to making me nervous.”

“Lars! Lars!” the voice came from the back of the crowd of reporters. Someone started pushing his way through the crowd. “Skip Blaine, Access Hollywood. Will Metallica have any involvement in the inevitable feature film about the Fletcher case? Like doing the soundtrack?”

Ulrich glared at him as the real reporters gave the Inspector a whole lot of clearance space, getting out of the way and putting distance between themselves and Blaine. “I am not that Lars Ulrich,” he told Blaine in a low, dangerous voice, clenching his fists.

Blaine seemed confused- a frequent issue for entertainment reporters. Then he started laughing. “Oh, Lars, you’re so funny! No, seriously, will you guys be doing the soundtrack?”

Three seconds later Blaine was briefly flying through the air, hit in the nose by a left hook punch from the Inspector. The flight ended with Tanner crashing onto the marble floor twenty feet away from Ulrich, who started forward, his eyes full of purpose and rage. Blaine scrambled away, with the Inspector fast on his heels.

Later reports had it that Blaine ended up in a hospital in Calgary, decked out in a body cast, groaning endlessly for someone to end the agony. “Red serge causes pain!”

The convicted felon has been reported to be screaming nearly non stop in her cell. Guards are keeping their distance during the rage episodes that are only briefly halted so that Fletcher can take in a breath. And then the screamfests continue again. “Seven hours since we got the old battleaxe back in here after the verdict came down,” one of them told this reporter anonymously. “And she won’t shut up. Keeps screaming about bone marrow and drinking his blood and all that sort of thing. Strictly speaking, as far as I’m concerned, Jessica Fletcher is not exactly the most stable of convicted murderers, if you know what I mean.”

This reporter, hearing the distant yelling, was started by a rather vivid rant down the hall that featured the words “grind his skull to a fine powder and have it in my afternoon tea!” In the opinion of this reporter, Jessica Fletcher is, to put it mildly, batshit crazy.