Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Pastor Kelvin Akin Trickles Down a Little BIZ

Oh Limbolanders I don't know what I've done to deserve such wonderful luck! Just have a look at the note below: here's this selfless man of the cloth, dear Pastor Kelvin, having heard the baleful cries of the white upper middle class in Marin County, California, making an unsolicited contribution to my burgeoning country club dues! 

I think this must be exactly what the great leader Ronald Reagan had in mind when he invented the "trickle down" theory. Of course at the time he was getting to that age when the ureter muscle, in concert with the prostate, loosen up to allow a little pee pee to sneak down the pant leg at random moments, which I'm told is what gave Ronny the idea. As the story goes, he was having a "fun break" at a cabinet meeting where he would attempt to throw jellybeans into the open mouths of his cabinet gathered around his desk in the Oval Office (The Oval Office is famous for inspiring games involving open orifices). At one point the President, laughing uncontrollably as Secretary of State Schultz starting choking on a jellybean, felt a stray half ounce trickle down his leg. "I've got it!" he shouted. "Schultzy shut the fuck up will you? Cappy will you please give Schultzy the Heimlich I am having a holy epiphany! My piss is the economy! That's it!"
"I'm sorry Chief did you say piss on the economy?" Lizzy Dole piped in.
"After a fashion, I think I did! Look Lizzy, look at this." Reagan pointed to a growing stain on his inner thigh. 
"Holy shit, Ronnie. Is that what I think it is? Christ can I have some? You know Bob can't even get it up!" (Of course husband Bob was not testifying to his ED on national TV at the time.)
"Oh I'm afraid not, Lizzie, as much as I do enjoy playing Swallow the Beaner with you guys. Though I know YOU wish we were playing Swallow the Boner, Lizzie."

At any rate Ronald Reagan coined the phrase "Trickle Down Economics" as a result of his growing incontinence, and thank God my dear friend Pastor Kelvin has taken it to heart! Just read his wonderful words! And pray that some day he may see fit to bless YOU with his holy surplus!

Dear Friend

Greetings to you and your Family. (My capital F Family. I love that. It's like we're the Manson Family or maybe the Kelvin Akin Family Singers!) I waited to hear from you since to contact me (poetic!) for your Confirmable Bank Draft of One Million, Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars ($1,500,000.00 usd), but didn’t hear from you. (Sorry Pastor I have been out of the country for a short theology course.) Then, I deposited the Bank Draft with Skyline Delivery Company in Benin Republic, before I traveled out of the country for a theology short Course (OMG YOU TOO?? I am sooo grateful to be dealing with a man of the cloth, like me!) and will not come back till end of next Month. What you have to do now is to contact Skyline Delivery Company as soon as possible to know when they will deliver your Bank Draft to you because of the expiring date.(Oh shit! Oh no! What day is it?) For your information, I have paid for the delivering Charges, the only money you will pay to courier & Security Company to deliver your Bank Draft direct to your postal Address in your country is ($115) only being their Security Keeping Fee of the Courier Company so far. (Okay. Okay. Enough with the poetry already. Could you maybe rephrase that? In English this time?)

Again, do not be deceived by anybody to pay any other money except $115. (I am soooo grateful to be dealing with a God-fearing Christian!) I would have paid the fee but they said no because they don't know when you will contact them and in case of demorrage.(Opposite of a hemorrage?) You have to contact the Skyline Delivery Company now for the delivery of your Bank Draft Draft with this information bellow.

Company`s Name.............  Skyline Courier And Delivery Company
E-mail ....................
Registration No............  Wwdsc/xxx/100

Finally, make sure that you reconfirm your Postal address and direct telephone number to them again to avoid any mistake on the Delivery and Let me repeat again, try to contact them as soon as you receive this mail to avoid any further delay and remember to pay them their Security Keeping fee of $115 for their immediate action. You should also let me know through email as soon as you receive your Bank Draft. (Wow this is so cool! I pay $115, and I get $1.5M!! Unbelievable!!)

Note: Skyline Delivery Company does not know the contents of the parcel. I registered it as my photograph (pix) sending to a friend overseas. (Ha! That'll fool those illiterate drug-addled Nigerian fucks at the Skyline Delivery Company. But, could you please send the pix too? I so dearly want to be able to gaze upon your gracious and generous image!) They do not know that it contains a Confirmable Bank Draft of such a huge amount of money, this is to avoid them tempering with the package. (Uh. What if they have a thing for Pastors?) Do not let them know the contents of the package until you receive it. (R u sure I shouldn't tell them it's got a signed check for $1.5M, just so they'll be careful with it?) I am waiting to hear the good news from you.

Pastor Kelvin Akin

Isn't this just amazing? Doesn't it make you want fall down upon your knees in deep and gracious gratitude?

Oh Kelvin you luscious stud! Praise the Lord for what he hath wrought in you, my dear Kelvin! I look forward to the day when I can throw a huge party and invite all of my bounteous benefactors. You would so love to meet my mysterious and temperamental Yeung Lap Ming, who I am almost certain would love to have a BIZ with you, quite possibly in all your naked glory! And my sweet Poonjabbi Poontang, Asha of the long, luscious, fragrant locks (emanating from where I am not quite sure yet). You'll meet Major Martha Davis, Minoo, and generous benefactors to come, almost daily it seems! And if we're really lucky, the Ebola Monkey Man will show up! 

If we're really, really lucky. 

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Asha Rajaratnam Has a BIZ To Do...With Me!

I guess she forgot about my allergies!

It's 10AM on a Monday morning and I'm sound asleep at my desk, head tucked into my folded arms atop the keyboard and the phone turned down as low as possible so I won't be disturbed by the shrill and strident yapping of the faceless, odorless, and tasteless corporate tards as they try and figure out just what the source of their vociferous disagreement really is. And then there it is again: that feeling that some company security mole is watching me sleep on the job from inside the computer monitor. Slowly I open a rheumy eye: the Powerpoint charts are right where I left them, on slide 1, and I curse my ineptitude for not clicking the mouse every few minutes to at lease give someone, a spying executive perhaps, the idea that I'm following along, albeit at my own pace.

I close the eye and WHOOSH, I am instantaneously swept into a deep dream state where I lie, or lay, completely and utterly buck naked on the hardwood floor of the modest entry way to our million dollar double wide in San Anselmo, my fingers caressing the holes on a pair of wing tip shoes. Women's wing tips. it appears, from the odd and even numbers of holes in the toes. And I realize instantly that this is the woman I have been waiting for - not the slimy and odoriferous Yeung Lap Ming from the cold and desolate abandoned missile sites in the deep forests of North Korea. No! Even if The Lap Dancer is really a cross-dresser coerced into a false identity and a life of 419 fraud as a result of owning a very seductive and feminine voice, this can't possibly be him. Or her. (Is Yeung a chick's name? How am I supposed to know this shit?) No, this can be no other than the lovely, tempting and emotionally available Asha Rajaratnam!

My heart felt as if it might come squirting out my ass. (Actually the floor was a little damp already from the liberation a few drops of pee pee in the nerve-wracking buildup to what surely was to be a joyous feasting on each others flesh there, naked on the cool hardwood floor.) Joyous with expectation,  I let my fingers take a jaunty little stroll up the wing tips, pausing now and then to do a little chorus line kick. This is fun, I thought, lying on the cool hardwood floor absolutely ridiculously buck naked pretending my pinkies are a junior chorus line on what I hope are Asha Rajaratnam's wing tips. I grin, very very quietly and with my lips closed so as not to let the glare of my synthetically enhanced pearly whites illuminate the room.

Now I am thinking of the lovely note she has sent me. The note that so affectionately and warmly uses that lovingly romantic salutation from the hill country of the Poonjabb:

Namaste, (There's nothing quite like words of love in Poonjabber)

No leftovers for my Poonjabbi Princess!
My name is Asha Rajaratnam, I am the wife of Raj Rajaratnam founder of  the Galleon Group, New York. I do have a proposal for you,which would be of financial benefits to you and myself. My husband has been jailed in the U.S for 11 years,I need your assistance to help me move some funds from Holland to India  or anywhere where it would at least be of some help to our family. I would give you more details of this proposal if you show yourself willing to take on it,I assure you that you would most certainly be compensated but please I would kindly request you to keep this matter confidential. I am currently here in the UK where it is a bit safe for me and my kids. You can reach me on my personal email id which is

Sincere regards,

Asha  Rajaratnam

By the time I'm finished recalling every luscious word of her entreaty to me, my hands are up around her thighs, and I have clearly gotten to the point where my little Poonjabbi princess stops shaving, for now it feels like I am caressing the legs of a young wooki. And, though I admit I wasn't paying very close attention when I was lost in my reverie of everlasting love, there's no way these linebacker legs could belong to the girl I've seen in pictures attached to the Pillsbury Poonjabi Raj "Rubber Face" Rajaratnam.

If they are not the legs of my new and truly beloved Punjabber Weenie Grabber, then whose are they? Then, consistent with the entire parade of cruel juxtapositions I've been victim to ever since someone knocked upon my door, I am overwhelmed by the smell: a virulent, acrid strain of eau d' WD40 that puckers my nostrils and sets my anus on fire.

OMG is this love? Does this sudden realization that the former wife of one of the 21st century's fattest corporate crooks wears wing tips, hasn't shaved her butt in decades, and farts like a wildcatter stranded on a oil platform with tattooed Louisiana pirates constitute that which I have been missing with my mail order Siberian bride?

It is at this moment of weakness that I hear a chuckle, soft at first,  then slowly growing louder. I look up and see that indeed I am holding the hair of extraordinarily beautiful Punjabi Princess - her real hair, the hair on her head which cascades down her back, so long that I have mistaken it for steroidal pubic hair. She smiles and whispers "I have a BIZ to do...with you" and bingo: there's that dampness again. But before I can leap into her arms a voice comes from behind:

"As do I, my ignorant, disrespectful American blogger."

Oh for fuck's sake, I cry out loud. When this BIZ ever going to end and by the way would somebody please turn on the fucking lights?

Thursday, June 21, 2012

Just So We're Clear on Lapper's Scam

Wha? You don't want 10 million dolla? You crazy or wha?

Greetings LImbolanders,

I have had a couple of comments from folks - mostly young - who, not being as grisly and wizened as some of us, have been understandably concerned about the emails from Yeung Lap Ming - yep, our pal The Lap Doggy. Then, concern in hand, they innocently wander into Limboland trying to get a handle on the Lapper's BIZ and are met with all manner of obtuse, obscure and comedic invention, leaving Limboland dazed, bewildered and baffled. (Or "barfled", a combination of bafflement and stomach upset.)

So, as a disclaimer of sorts I have cut and pasted the words of Buffy Staffordshire, a top contributor to Yahoo Answers, into Limboland to provide some clarity and fact to the exploits of the dastardly Mingler. My initial blog: "Yeung Lap Ming has a BIZ to do...with me!" has had almost 900 readers. While I like to believe that my compelling storytelling, along with the colorful characterizations and the labyrinthine run-on sentences, is fomenting a frenzied word-of-mouth rush to Limboland, the truth is there is nothing like a celebrity in your title to attract attention. Especially one with such enormous x-gender and x-generational appeal!

Here's the straight scoop from a real reporter. Oh and I was wrong about the Ebola Monkey Man. His legacy lives on! 

Meanwhile, I have a character splayed naked on a cool hardwood floor at the feet of someone wearing women's wing tips who could possibly be the evil Lap Dancer though I am hoping it is the ex-wife of Rip-em-off Raj Rajaratnam! Anyway I best tend to that rather touchy/feely situation!

How LOW can you GO?



Buffy Staffordshire

 There is no banker at some overseas bank who suddenly found a dormant account with millions yet can't find a single relative of the account owner who managed to die suddenly in a plane/train/car accident or whatever natural disaster was just on the world news and didn't leave a will. Now this highly educated executive who writes like an 8 year old, must have a foreign partner to help him move this newly discovered wealth to any bank in any other country before his government seizes the cash.

The Lapper Gets Nailed
There is only one scammer trying to steal your hard-earned money by using a fake story, stolen pictures, stolen information on a natural disaster and copied links from a legit website, all while pretending to be several different people all with free email addresses.

The next email was from one of the scammer's fake names and free email addresses pretending to be the "minister/banker/barrister" and has demanded you pay for made-up money transfer, document, certificate, stamp and bank fees, in cash, and only by Western Union or moneygram.

Western Union and moneygram do not verify anything on the form the sender fills out, not the name, not the street address, not the country, not even the gender of the receiver, it all means absolutely nothing. The clerk will not bother to check ID and will simply hand off your cash to whomever walks in the door with the MTCN# and question/answer. Neither company will tell the sender who picked up the cash, at what store location or even in what country your money walked out the door. Neither company has any kind of refund policy, money sent is money gone forever.

Now that you have responded to a scammer, you are on his 'potential sucker' list, he will try again to separate you from your cash. He will send you more emails from his other free email addresses using another of his fake names with all kinds of stories of great jobs, lottery winnings, millions in the bank and desperate, lonely, sexy singles. He will sell your email address to all his scamming buddies who will also send you dozens of fake emails all with the exact same goal, you sending them your cash via Western Union or moneygram.

Whenever suspicious or just plain curious, google everything, website addresses, names used, companies mentioned, phone numbers given, all email addresses, even sentences from the emails as you might be unpleasantly surprised at what you find already posted online. You can also post/ask here and every scam-warner-anti-fraud-busting site you can find before taking a chance and losing money to a scammer.

If you google "fake next-of-kin scam", "fraud inheritance bank Western Union scam", "fake Ghana refugee scam", "fraud romance scammer" or something similar you will find hundreds of posts from victims and near-victims of this type of scam.


Don't forget to add your "like" to the "Hack the Novel" FB page. The book will soon be for sale and bookstores of all kinds really to carry well-liked books!

Saturday, June 16, 2012

The Galleys Are Here!

Nobody uses that term anymore - galley -  and honestly I don't know why I'm using it except that I got a little rhyme going in my addled head:

The galleys are here
The galleys are here
Call up your buddies and have yourself a beer
Go tell Aunt Sally that the galleys are here!

I really liked this line:
Tell Uncle Ernie out drinkin' in the alley
to get off his ass and come proof the galleys

 ...but haven't figure out what goes with it yet. What do you think? (Tequila is always a good answer).

(If you are a regular adventurer in Limboland you know I am not likely to provide any valuable or even credible information about the functions and history of galleys so here it is have a tit:

 Speaking of tequila The Galleys are here. I'm talking about the version of the book right before it goes to print that actually looks like a book on the computer screen. It's got the ISBN numbers, the bar code, the words of hype I mean praise from the authors, rock stars, celebrities, Mom, Dad, the mailman (though we don't trust his ass ever since he started sending those bogus emails), the wife, the kids, (Mom says "kids now go post something real nice to your friends on Facebook about Dad's book so their Mommy and Daddy will go buy it, or you can forget about college!. I caught my daughter in the act the other day. She was just finishing up a sentence that said "I think my Dad might be mentally retarded. Either that or he's doing bath salts". I just had her change "retarded" to "challenged" -  I mean we grew up with that mean bullshit and it's really time to cut the retarded kids some slack, dontcha think?

So, HERE is a galley of HACK!! It's the TABLE OF CONTENTS. Now you don't have to buy the book because you can tell everything that's in it just by looking at this here Table of Contents!

The reason the publisher supplies the galleys to the author is to give them one final look for typos - not content edits, not grammatical fixes, but typos (though if there's a blatant grammatical gaffe that the copy editor didn't catch the author might grab it in the final read through and the change may be able to be executed by the chief coordinator.)

So maybe now you're thinkin' "okay so ya got your table of contents here and that's cool but where are the pictures?" Well even though graphic novels are very popular these days, "HACK" is not a picture book. Hey it's not even Young Adult fictioh, although young adults probably read a lot racier stuff than I do, in fact from what I understand there is a lot of blood being sucked out of peoples necks in these books, which is not the usual fluid nor is it coming from the usual body part. But who am I to say what's racy? I mean, here's the  first page of the first chapter after the prologue. Does this seem like it's gonna get racy to you? Do you get the sense that there might be some vampire action?

Okay! I don't know about y'all but I felt like it might be good to talk about something besides scammers: you know, that evil lumbuggy the Lap Doggy , Major Martha Davis, Raj-daddy's sweet little ho, the USPS and the rest of that nefarious crew. I almost brough up the movie I saw for the first time last night: Boogie Nights, the most amazing piece of shit I have ever seen! But then the galleys came, I started walking around the house humming my little tune, and now that my wife has kicked me out I'm having fun walking up and down the halls of the hotel. Some of the guests have even joined in with me!

The galleys are here
The galleys are here
Now get out of my face you stupid little deer! (that's not really what they called me but no more mean and hurtful shit I mean it. That's better! Phew. Almost made a major gaffe there.)

The important thing to remember is that this all means HACK in all its splendorous glory will be here as a hardback, a paperback, a Kindle, a Nook, a little baby Humdiddy! Just in time for those:

Lazy hazy crazy days of summer
those days of soda, and pretzles and beer
bring back those lazy hazy crazy days of summer
I wish that summer could always be here!


Saturday, June 9, 2012

Ebola Monkey Man: Fact or Fiction?

I got a response to my Yeung Lap Ming blog the other day from a couple of youngsters that were downright freaked out about The Lapper for they had received an even more detailed note regarding how to execute A BIZ  and I realized that there must be a huge population of bloggers, pinners, tweeters, posters and folks that are just sending Sunday emails to Mom back in Cedar Rapids when they get some weird scary shit from a complete stranger. I've been getting advance-fee fraud notes for so long that it's not weird anymore. Instead, it's just more cannon-fodder for my already-twisted world view.

The first contact I received from a Nigerian 419 or advance-fee fraud scammer was a real letter, with the official Government of Nigeria seal. I was sitting in my San Francisco office at our just freshly started up computer-based (online didn't exist yet) marketing communications company, InterActive Media, 8 stories above Kearny St. in the classic 1907 Charleston Building, one of three buildings in The City with a manually operated elevator, and an attendant! But, I digress. (For more background on the Nigerian 419 Scam...)

The Ebola Virus
I read the letter from Nigeria to my colleagues - nobody had ever heard of the scams just starting to come out of Nigeria. It was 1991 or thereabouts and we were producing "interactive brochures" on floppy disks, which soon would become multimedia CD-ROMs which would ultimately be replaced by the Web I'll never forget my first experience of the internet. I was like, what? This is all text? Why would anyone prefer this over a true, 3-D multimedia CD ROM with video, VO, music and all interactive? Well we all know what happened. But that's another story for another lovely day in Limboland.

Back to the letter (again...I promise I'll stay on-topic now!). I saved it for quite awhile - after all it DID have the official seal of the government of Nigeria on it, which I believe was of a local with a red bandana bludgeoning a local with a yellow bandana with the motto "Get While The Gettin's Good, Motherfucker!" in Swahili, written in drops of blood across the image. There was another image on the letterhead, this of a gang in a jeep with machetes and machine guns with the president of Nigeria - "Big Balls" Boolaboola was his name - behind the wheel. The imagery inspired great trust in my would be new best friend who was offering me several million dollars if only I would give him my bank account number. Sound familiar? I sure as hell hope so because if you have not been bit by a Nigerian or other advance-fee fraud scammer you simply haven't lived, baby!

I got that first letter in 1991, year of the first gulf war, and I was equally bewildered and nonplussed by both. The desire of some Nigerian government official wanting to give me several million dollars made about as much sense as the United States defending the territorial rights of Kuwait against the evil Saddam, who just a year or two prior was our best friend in the Middle East. And then there was the dreaded Ebola virus, which primarily effected monkeys but killed humans as well, which folks feared would be transported out of Africa with the scam letters. Just when it was all coming to a head, in steps the EBOLA MONKEY MAN.

If scam mail upsets you, pisses you off, freaks you out or just plain scares you, you can take comfort that, at one time there was the Ebola Monkey Man, and his mission was to protect poor slobs like you and me from scammers. The Ebola Monkey Man was perhaps the first and by far the most well-known SCAM BAITER in history.

Ebola Monkey Man: Pissing Off Nigerian Scammers One At a Time!

The EMM with FRO wig
A scam baiter, as you will soon discover when you start your exploration into the fascinating world of The Ebola Monkey Man, is someone who baits the scammer - goes along with the scam up until the scammer gets so frustrated trying to get his victim's account information that he starts to push, at which time the baiter let's the scammer have it. Meanwhile the scammer has wasted tons of time and money, and has been exposed in the process. And all this before Facebook and Twitter were twinkles in their parent's eyes!

What sets the Ebola Monkey Man apart from other baiters is his completely sophomoric, peurile and lewd approach. Half the fun of following the Monkey Man's exploits when he was in business was seeing how crude he would get in his efforts to make the scammers befoul themselves. His one consistent and recognizable ploy would be to get the scammer to pose for a picture with his "code name", which of course the scammers with their crude English skills would never figure out. Photos of the proud scammers holding signs with names like "Father Wilutuchme" and "Ima Dildo" totally tickle the locker room funny bone, (Jerry Sandusky's infamous locker room "funny bone" is NOT what the Monkey Man had in mind) and if there's one thing our hero is not ashamed of, it's plain good old potty talk. (I should note that The Monkey's crudeness is 100% sexual - he doesn't pander to scatology which I find a little disappointing but hey, to each his own!) The Ebola Monkey Man's exploits are not for the faint of heart, the prudish or for anybody who champions high brow intelligence to the exclusion of low brow humor. Be forewarned!

Also, The Monkey Man, by nature of the measures he has taken to expose fraud, has generated more than his fair share of criticism. Those that reach like the Ebola Monkey Man has will doubtless knock over a few full glasses, make a racket, a mess, and in general upset a lot of people. IMHO, I'm glad and thankful that there are folks like the EMM who are willing to stick their necks out to fuck up the bad guys. And if a little behavior in poor taste is what it takes to get the job done, then God Bless Poor Taste!

I don't know what's become the Ebola Monkey Man. The last update to the site appears to be a diary entry in 2007. But the site lives on and in fact hasn't changed much since I first saw it. You can tell it was created before such authoring tools as wordpress, blogger, or the other template site builders. As you'll see in the pictures, he appears to be a pretty nutty character, what with the tatoos, the porn stars, the "show me your tits" pix and other vestiges of high culture. Here are a few words from The Monkey himself. I'm sure you can see for yourself, "he won't do you no harm, no..."

"When I first started the site, it was to entertain my friends. I never would have thought this site would touch as many people as it has. I get emails all the time from potential victims who say they would have fallen for the scam had they not found my site. I also get mail from victims who feel they get a little vindication when reading through the scams. So my site is not only a place to laugh, it's a place to learn.

Live life to the fullest. Laugh, smile, and do as many dumb things as possible. Be nice until the time comes to not be nice. MOST OF ALL, DON'T STEAL. Unless you want to end up on my site of course. I hope you enjoy."

For those of you that are being exposed to online scammers for the first time, I hope this information gives you a little context and in the process some comfort knowing that you are not being singled out by Yeung Lap Ming, Major Sandra Gomez, or some Nigerian whack job.

One of you asked "how did Yeung Lap Ming get my email address"? and I promise I will do a little research and bring you up to speed. Suffice to say that every time you use it as a password to log into a social network, an app, a game or anything else there are gazillions of email address-stealing crows waiting on a wire right outside just waiting to swoop down and snatch it up. More to come on that. That is if the Lap Doggy doesn't get to me first!

Monday, June 4, 2012

Women's Wing Tips

First I apologize for my laxity in attending to these critical communications but there was more to those wing tips than the family doctor. A lot more.

I lay there stretched naked across the cool hardwood floor in my darkened hall, silently counting the number of little holes in the toes of the large and intrusive wing tips that stood before me, wishing I had a mustache to stroke in pensive reflection. How could this be the dreaded Lap Doggy? Had there ever been an inscrutable Asian spy or perhaps programmer who wore wing tips? Probably not since the days of Charlie Chan himself. Of course I didn't want the intruder to be aware of my presence, splayed out before him, or perhaps her, naked on the cool hardwood floor, counting the holes in his/her wing tips, so I lay there wondering how I ended up naked splayed out on the cool hardwood floor when only moments before I had my jammies on and was crawling from my bed to the front door where I assumed the rather rude and obnoxious Lap Mingler was awaiting me, sniggering with a sly and inscrutable grin revealing only a strip of gleaming yellow teeth in the moonlight. I had a feeling that Lappy was attempting to ruin my marriage by forcing a random CPAP mask removal with his uninvited knock at 4AM because I had come to the conclusion that he wasn't planning on doing A BIZ with me at all, but that it was my rather large-breasted, slovenly Russian mail-order wife he was after.

I counted 47 holes - 23 in the left shoe and 24 in the right - and I gasped: women's wing tips!

"Heeldiddyheebeedee!" I jerked my head up. Quietly. Very quietly. Probably the quietest head jerk ever written, for I was hoping that the individual in the winged tips was still unaware of my presence, despite the sudden bizarre exclamation they made when I had completed counting the holes in their shoes.

Worse yet, it was a female voice too! Likely human. Could Yeung Lap Ming possibly be a woman? Well sure, I said to myself very quietly. I suppose! Why not? It's not like I can tell the difference between a North Korean female and a North Korean male. Not by their names, at least, and certainly not by their looks, or their clothes, or their hair color, or the obvious complete lack of facial hair or any type of bodily hair for that matter. But the voice! This was clearly one area where the North Koreans, or at least the Lap Ming family, had failed to defeat individual differences for the good of the politburo.

"Heeldiddyheebeedee!" she giggled again, sliding her left foot back and tapping out a perky North Korean military rhythm on the hardwood floor where I laid splayed naked in the dark. "Get up, worm," she suddenly commanded, and I felt a little pee pee leak onto the cool hardwood floor, not because I was stricken with fear but because this was a command I often heard from my mail order bride, to whom "worm" was just subset of the larger individual that the person in the wing tips with the woman's North Korean voice was now addressing. Before I budged another voice cried out in the night.

"Honeeeeee!!?" I pressed myself into the cool hardwood floor, hoping that my nudity would make it easier to be subsumed by relatively porous pine planks.Maybe the pee pee had softened them up a bit. "What the fuck is going on in there?" My mail order bride's voice was starting to sound a little closer now.

"Nothing dear! You better go back to bed! It's cold out here and you don't want your nipples getting hard!"

"I don't? Why not?" she asked, getting closer. Damn, I said to myself. Why in the fuck did I say that? I was the one who didn't want her nipples getting hard, since they could cause serious bodily injury when fully erect, including fairly major contusions and temporary blinding. Obviously the Siberian women used them as weapons against bears and wolves. "Who is making that beautiful Siberian Mink mating call?".

She was here. My mail-order bride was in the room, about to discover a North Korean she-male in wing tips and perhaps not much else imitating a Siberian Mink's mating call as I lay naked splayed out on the cool hardwood floor caressing that same pair of wing tips.Again, I felt a dribble...


I know many of you are thinking isn't it about time Major Martha Gomez made an appearance? You are so right, it is high time the good Major and the Lapper got into it, and I promise I will arrange a meeting for them in the near future.

For those of you that have not been terrified by the sudden appearance on Major Martha Gomez so soon on the heels of the evil email scammer Yeung Lap Ming, let me share with you the Major's missive:

How are you doing today? Please do condone me for invading your privacy through this medium. Nevertheless, I desire to convey a very important message which in the long run will be conjointly beneficial to us.

This entails a business dealing which I will make known to you the full details in my next mail upon your response and readiness to work with me. Please do take this mail in earnest.
View attached link for proper understanding.

Respectfully Yours,

Major Martha Gomez.

Of course I didn't touch the attached link I wouldn't have even touched it with...well you know.
Within 48 hours I was accosted by another one of the Lap Doggy's minions, Ryan Albanese:

Learn the current hull material to make the suit material To protect The door slams down the hallway I wanted to tell you all in person.n hòwcan you say this is a college seminar. We talk to these f Silhouetted against the rim lights of the Death Star horizon, if yöu õwe the IRS môney At first I stopped because I got my this abrupt fashion! You dont seem to realize the position But the crime? Dont påy the Í reward money After all, I want the armour to match the color of my Melissa sits down S untí C Another: you refused to go to Perelman's office when summoned l yöu reåd this:

Whoa! Makes Yeung Lap Ming and Major Martha look like Bellevue escapees (which they probably are). And to think that I have Melanie Mills to thank for this morbid curiosity with scammer lit.

Stay tuned: a prime time appearance of "I Was a Client of Melanie Mills" will be hitting the blogosphere bring some friends aboard and stick with Limboland a while longer we're just starting to groove!