The Old Fake African Lawyer Shell Company Ploy

They are a horde and a pestilence that Moses wouldn't have seen coming. They creep in and out of the dark shadows of the internet, spamming our blogs and emails and sending us scams as they go along. They are the damned. The cursed. The beyond hope. They are the homo sapiens spammeritis annoyingus, commonly known as the internet scammer and spammer. The following recently came through my email. It's one I've seen before. But the accompanying name stood out.

Dear Friend,   
I am a lawyer by profession here in my country Togo--Lome west Africa, one of my clients from your country used to work with a shell development company here in the republic of TOGO Africa. My client, his wife and their only daughter were involved in an auto crash here in my country. I decided to contact you so that the $10.5M Dollars he left behind in a bank here will be transferred to your bank account immediately

Best regards,

Barrister Mark .Donald .Duck 

Chamber.

As mentioned, I've seen this one before. Short and to the point, and pretty much copy and paste, with just the name changing. In this case one Mark Donald Duck. As in the most incomprehensible character in Disney animated history, not to mention the one character in their library of characters with the deepest anger management problems. Who likes walking around in a shirt and cap, but no pants.

Yes, that Donald Duck.

Oh, right, yes. That makes sense. Are these people really that stupid? Or are they even more stupid, and not realize there's a character by that name? Could it be that in a global entertainment culture they're oblivious to the existence of the cranky duck who cannot be understood? Have they been that sheltered?

You would think considering how much noise the duck makes that it would be hard to miss him.

Nice try, numbskull. Really. I get it, you have no marketable skill for a real job, and so you do this from whatever dark corner of the world you're really in. Hoping beyond hope that someone will be dumb enough to believe you. It sure as hell isn't me. But maybe someone on that list of half a million random emails you send this out to will buy it, and promptly lose a few thousand dollars as an "administrative fee" before you disappear back down the rabbit hole.

Sigh. In an ideal world, we could load you into one of these things, and then launch you into a blazing fire.

A Day In The Life Of A Leafs Fan

The NHL regular season is about to begin, and the Toronto Maple Leafs, that hopeless and hapless story in dashed expectations, will be hosting Montreal on Wednesday. Perhaps the game will go in this fashion, from the point of view of a die hard fan we haven't heard from in awhile. Oh, and in case you're wondering, Punch Imlach was the coach of the last Maple Leafs team to win a Stanley Cup. Fifty one years ago. It seemed a fitting substitution for a Leafs fan curse word.

10:12 AM. Awake at home. Got the day off work. Big day today! Big! We’re talking huge, infinity plus one gigantic. Because it’s not just any day. It’s the NHL season opener for our boys. Montreal’s in town, and this year is gonna be the big year! The year the Leafs finally bring the Stanley Cup home where it belongs. Fifty one years without a Cup is a crime! And this is the year it’s gotta happen!

10:50 AM. Watchin’ some of Don Cherry’s Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em videos to get myself in a fighting mindset. Not that I’m gonna be fightin’ or anything. Unless some jackass Habs fan picks a fight, because if that happens, it’s go time, buddy! Hell yeah! Don’s a genius, man. My mentor, my guide to life. Tells it like it is, pisses off a buncha losers who think he dresses funny. I don’t know why anyone would think that. 

1:32 PM. Had myself a good lunch. That’ll tide me over til burgers at the bar before game time. Okay, time for the Leafs Fan Prayer. Changes by the year, dependin’ on who’s been traded. O Father, who art in heaven with those members of the 1967 roster who have passed on, hallowed be the Leafs, their kingdom come, on Earth as it is in Leafs Nation…

1:33 PM. … and forgive us when we give into despair, for it has been five long decades of dashed hopes and expectations, but this is the year, baby! This is the year, because Tavares has come to join us. So give us the Stanley Cup for the next hundred years, because our fans are really loyal. The Blue and the White is the kingdom, the power and the glory, forever and ever plus one, amen.

2:47 PM. Another part of the preparations. Call it superstition, call it whatever the **** you want, but we gotta do the stab the voodoo doll thing. I’ve got a doll sized Carey Price sweater, so that’s the one going on it right now. Jabbing it with pins to bring bad luck to the Habs. You know, I do this a lot with visitin’ teams, and it never seems to work. Maybe I should stop or somethin’, maybe I’m bringin’ bad luck to my boys… no, that’s just silly. Gotta work sometime, right?

4:10 PM. Harry and Jack show up at the house. Hey boys! Big night tonight!

4:26 PM. Me and Harry and Jack are all excited, talkin’ about the big game. Sure, the playoffs were a disappointment, getting’ kicked out in the first round by those Bruins. Man, I hate the Bruins. Almost as much as I hate the Sens. Half as much as I hate the Habs, because let’s face it, hatin’ the Habs is in the lifeblood of every Leafs fan. I tell you boys, our guys have been disrespected and tossed around by the League for too long. But this is the year it’s all gonna change. We’re gonna have Tavares out there with the boys, and he’s gonna show everyone what’s what and who’s who. And this is gonna be the season where the Leafs break all the records and win every single game and claim the Stanley Cup and bring it back home! Because it’s gotta happen! It’s just gotta!

5:03 PM. Me and Harry and Jack meet the cab that’s come to pick us up. ‘Cause we’re gettin’ hammered tonight, and you can’t drive drunk. At least that’s what the law says. You ask me, I’m perfectly fine behind the wheel when I’ve had a few, but my insurance company told me that they’ll cancel my policy the next time. They also think I might have a problem with booze. **** ‘em, the only time I’ve got a problem with booze is when I don’t have any booze.

5:28 PM. Me and Jack and Harry are busy talkin’ while this cabbie drives us downtown. Hey, who gives a **** about rush hour traffic, drive on the sidewalk if you have to! We got some drinkin’ to get in before the game! Me and the boys talk about the Cup and the fact that we’re not allowed anywhere near it since we’re still on probation. Geez, boys, all we did was steal the Cup and hold it for ransom, you’d think we killed the Pope or somethin’ by the way we’ve been punished for it.

5:42 PM. We finally get into the bar after that stupid ass cabbie drops us off. You ask me, boys, he was a Sens fan. What’s the problem with drivin’ on the sidewalks? The place is busy. Hey, Max! Beer here!

6:39 PM. Comin’ into the arena before the game. Gotta get to our seats. Had a couple beers with our burgers at the bar. Hell, we’ll catch up to that after the game. Hey, Jack, you notice they changed the name of the arena again? Jesus, Punch Imlach, and Mary, why not just keep it as one name? The Maple Leafs Victory Arena? Sounds good, right? Right, boys?

7:03 PM. The teams are on the ice. The anthem is being sung. Me and Harry and Jack are singin’ along. With glowing hearts, the Leafs are best, the true north strong and Leafs…

7:08 PM. Openin’ face off, and here we go, yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah baby, kill ‘em! Kill… wait, what the ****??? Did Drouin just score on us???

7:19 PM. Totally baffled. First period ain’t even half done and Montreal is ahead of us by ten to zero. Come on, Tavares! Score on that SOB Price already!

7:51 PM. First period over. Me and Harry and Jack are in shock. Eighteen to nothing?? Boys, you gotta tell me. Is this a bad dream?

8:28 PM. Busy yellin’ at the Leafs to rally. Come on, boys! It’s only a thirty goal deficit! You can score thirty one goals in a row, right? Right? Move already! No, not like that! Jesus, Punch Imlach, and Mary! Now we’re down thirty one to nothing! Dammit, are you guys blind??? The net’s right there!

9:41 PM. Last two minutes of regulation. Habs, forty two, Toronto, zero. Boys? This is a humiliation. This is… this is… this is the last straw. You know what? This is us, wastin’ our lives, rooting for a team that’s always going to **** up and break our hearts. You know that? That’s what this is. But **** that, I’m done. You hear me? I’m done! Yeah, Babcock, I’m yellin’ at you! Your team sucks! I’m done!

9:56 PM. Me and Harry and Jack come into the bar after leavin’ the arena. Max greets us with the bad news. Turns out the Habs scored four more goals in the last minute of play after we left. Final score Montreal 46, Toronto 0. **** it, Max, a night like this, I need some ****in’ booze to make the ****in’ pain go away. So beer here!

10:49 PM. Drownin’ our sorrows with a buncha Leafs fans, feelin’ the pain. Fifty years, boys! Fifty years of dashed hopes and dreams and watchin’ it all fall apart. My old man would puke if he saw how long it would take! Speakin’ of pukin’, I think I’m gonna throw up.

12:28 AM. Me and Harry and Jack have gotten ourselves totally wasted over the last two and a half hours, and we’ve been talkin’. Okay. So this was one bad ****in’ night. It happens. Okay? But whatever we mighta said two hours ago about **** the Maple Leafs and burnin’ our jerseys, **** that. Because a true ****in’ fan sticks with his team through thick and thin, am I right, boys? So that’s what we do. One bad game does not a season make, or however the **** that sayin’ goes. So from here out, it’s gonna be one win after another. Because this is the ****in’ year our Leafs win the ****in’ Stanley Cup! Yeah, baby, yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

1:36 AM. Staggerin’ in the front door at home. Threw up on the porch. **** it, I’ll clean it up in the mornin’ before work. Maybe call in sick to work. Good idea. Collapsin’ on the couch. Geez, I’m gonna have the hangover from hell in the mornin’. Maybe I oughtta cut back on the drinkin’.

No, that don’t make no sense.

I love drinkin’.

Almost as much as I love the Leafs.

Wake up tomorrow, bud. It’ll be a better day. Every game from here out, our boys make up for tonight. And who knows, maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and find out that it’s yesterday and that whole thing was just a bad dream. That’d be great, right? Of course right. Go Leafs go, baby! Yeaaaaaahhhhh!

Oh, ****, my head….

A Day In The Life Of A Mobster

I have something different today, the point of view of a gangster. I still haven't decided if he's a snitch.

7:25 AM. Awake at home. Having breakfast. Hot coffee and toast. Well done, just the way I like it. The wife’s off in the Caribbean somewhere. Gotta look up where, sooner or later. Theresa said something about tans and beaches and margaritas, I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention….

7:53 AM. A last look at myself in the mirror before I head out the door. Crisp grey suit, matching tie, black shirt. Jeez, I’m starting to look like a stereotype of the job.

7:55 AM. Stepping out my front door. Nico and Lorenzo are waiting by the Rolls. Hey, fellas, how the **** you doing? You do know I can drive myself, right?

7:56 AM. Nico tells me Don Bianchi wants to see me right away. The boss himself? Wow, I wonder what brought him all the way here from Sicily. Okay, fellas, so let’s get moving already.

8:20 AM. Nico and Lorenzo walk me into the coffee warehouse. That’s what we call the place anyway. Bianchi Coffee. Not that we actually move coffee, and the cops know it. Knowing it and proving it are two different things, you know what I’m saying?

8:21 AM. Finding myself in the back office, where Don Carlos Bianchi is waiting in person. The capo di capi of the whole organization. Don Bianchi, it’s an honour.

Something seems off. The don doesn’t seem pleased to see me.

8:23 AM. Nico and Lorenzo have put me down on a chair. Hard. And they’re looming behind me like the three hundred pounds of hired muscle that they are. Don Bianchi accuses me of ratting to the cops. I’m horrified by the accusation. I mean, come on, Don Bianchi, what kind of low down rat would talk to the cops? I mean, sure, they call me Joey the Rat, but that’s an ironic name! I have no idea who squealed to the cops and got your grandson thrown in jail for the next thirty years, but if I knew, I’d have already whacked them, bada bing bada boom! You of all people know how safe a secret is when it’s kept by me. I mean, I’ve never told anyone that Nico is banging Lorenzo’s wife and Lorenzo doesn’t even…

Oh, ****, did I just say that out loud?

8:25 AM. Don Bianchi tells Nico and Lorenzo to stop hitting each other. They stop, and then he makes a hand gesture. Before I know what’s happening, I feel an impact to the back of my head, and everything goes black.

11:14 AM. Coming to. Feels like everything is moving. Opening my eyes. Looking around. Assessing. Looks like I’m in a plane cabin. A small plane. Hands tied behind my back. Lying on the floor. Nico is over there. Lorenzo is in the other direction. Both of them aren’t looking at each other. Hey, fellas, a little help here, you know what I'm saying?

11:28 AM. Nico and Lorenzo haven’t said much of anything to me, aside from telling me to shut up. Come on, fellas, so I slipped up about the whole thing with Nico screwin’ Giulietta, so what? These things happen. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had some action on the side myself while my Theresa isn’t paying attention. Now where were we? Oh, right, how about you untie me and we let bygones be bygones?

12:03 PM. The pilot calls back to Nico and Lorenzo. Says we’re out past the limit and depressurized. The limit of what? Come on, fellas, you know me. You know I would never have ratted to the cops. I mean, there’s that whole code we have. The omerta. Code of silence. We’re mobsters. We don’t rat each other out. At least to the cops. Sorry about the whole ratting you and Giulietta out thing, Nico, but it was an honest mistake. My point is there’s a big difference between slipping up and letting Lorenzo know his wife has been cheating on him, and giving the cops evidence to put away Paolo Bianchi for drug trafficking!

12:05 PM. Nico and Lorenzo help me up to my feet. It’s about time, fellas, so go ahead and untie me already, my wrists are sore.

12:06 PM. Lorenzo moves forward, while Nico’s hustling me by the arm from behind. I stop when I see Lorenzo opening up the cabin door. I hear the roar of the air outside coming. It suddenly hits me that this is a one way trip for me. Now wait a minute, fellas… let’s not lose our heads here.

12:07 PM. Nico starts pushing me towards the open door. Come on! Look, we can make a deal, right? I’ve got money. Us three, fellas, and hell, even the pilot. We can make a ****ing deal. Hey! Lorenzo, I toasted you and Giulietta at your wedding, remember? You honestly telling me you’re gonna whack one of your wedding guests?

12:07:32 PM. Nico and Lorenzo push and pull me closer to the door. One last glance outside at the big void of empty air. Looks like we’re five thousand feet up. Lots of ocean down there. Oh, ****, come on fellas, couldn’t you have just put two bullets in my head bada bing bada boom? That would have been merciful!

12:08:17 PM. They’ve got me right at the threshold. I can feel the wind against my face. Hands tied up behind me, can’t grip anything… Nico yells in my ear that I should know that Theresa is ****ing that trainer at her gym. Wait a minute… my Theresa is banging Randy ****ing Walden???

12:08:29 PM. Two pairs of hands shove me out the door. I feel myself falling straight off, hurtling down towards the ocean. Wondering if I’ll lose consciousness before I hit. Wondering how bad the impact will be. Wondering how the **** I could have missed the fact that my wife is ****ing her trainer. Wondering if she’s banging him right now wherever the **** she is. I mean, that ****ing idiot Walden??? What’s he got that I do….

12:10 PM. A moment of blackness. Opening my eyes. Finding myself in a fire and brimstone kinda place with guys with red skin, carrying pitchforks and bullwhips. I think this is hell, you know what I’m saying?

**** that! Joey the Rat Falcone was supposed to end up in the other place! 

Beware The Wrath Of A Cranky Klingon

I have an image blog today. Enjoy!