Jess Burkle

Month

December 2011

2 posts

Spam Email from Jany Lofa.

I took the time to read this spam email from master wordsmith “Mrs. Jany Lofa” (Widow of Cote d’Ivoire) and I wanted to draw attention to some of the best parts of her writing.

From: Mrs. Jany Lofa

My Dearest one,

I am the above named person. I am married to Mr.lofa who before his death was a wealthy cocoa Merchant here in Cote d’Ivoire. We were married for 25 years without a child. Before the death of my husband we were both born again Christians. 

  • I’m glad she cleared up that she is “the aboved named person.” That kind of personalization really cuts to it. However, I’m wondering what a psychologist would say about her defining herself as still married. But, perhaps to hold on to the cocoa money he made as a capital-M Merchant, she needs to for legal reasons. 
  • They were both born again Christians. Are they still? I’m intrigued, so I read on…

My Husband left the sum of US$3.8million United States Dollars in a fix/suspense account in one of the prime bank here in Cote d’Ivoire. Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not exceed more than five more months due to cancer problem. The one that disturbs me most is my blood pressure sickness. Having known my condition I decided to seek for your kind assistance to transfer this fund into your account and you will use it to train my adopted daughter who is 16yrs. You will take her as your God child and brought her up in a good and decent manner with what my late husband left behind. 

  • O, what a roller coaster! First the death of her husband left all that money in a “fix/suspense account” in one of Cote d’Ivoire’s many “bank.” Then, her CANCER PROBLEM! (Way to bury the lead, Jany!) Plus, the BLOOD PRESSURE SICKNESS! (Double-whammy!) See, Dan Brown would have presented this arch in chapters, but she’s got so much going on it’s all in on paragraph!
  • Twist! Adopted daughter! See how she fooled me into thinking she didn’t have a child because she earlier says they didn’t? How judgmental of me! They had an adopted child. Which, as we all know, don’t really count. 

I took this decision to contact because of my condition and for the facts that my husband relatives wants to size everything and throw my adopted daughter out of the inheritance. So I want to use this little time I have to achieve this arm before joining my ancestors.

  • Talk about a rock and a hard place! This is downright SHAKESPEAREAN!  Feuding relatives, inheritances in jeopardy, relatives wanting to “size” everything! I’m heard of Measure for Measure, but this is ridiculous! 
  • How touching that when the chips are down, she emails Long Lost Glove in a last-ditch, Hail Mary pass on this last [human-appendage-of-your-choice: arm, leg, etc.] of the journey.

Please indicate your interest and willingness in this transaction by writing back to me through the above email address. I want your maximum cooperation and keep this as confidential for security reasons.

  • Note: I can’t be interested but unwilling, or willing but uninterested; I must be both! Just as she is to the craft of writing!
  • I could understand how secrecy would be of the utmost importance. Those cocoa magnets are notoriously loose-lipped! I smell a sequel…

I am sincerely waiting for your kind and urgent response as soon as your receive this mail.

  • I let out a whimper thinking of Jany hunched over the keyboard, typing through her tears.

Thanks and God bless you.

Sincerely Yours,

Mrs. Jany Lofa

  • Mrs. Lofa, you have secured access to my heart. 

Dec 14, 20111 note
#humor #comedy #spam #cote d'ivoire #shakespeare
Sketch of a coffee shop.

“Isn’t this an ideal place to do my on-line banking?” I muse. Sure, thanks to my degenerative eyesight, the size of my font allows any curious coffee connaisseur to ballpark my credit score from a across the room, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters in this mocca-infused haze. 

The gentleman next to me smells like industrial gauge rope. I want to tell him, but it’s not really my place. (People have been thinking that for years, I’m sure.) His musty-basement musk has melted with bargain-basement perfumes and croissants into a dense jungle of poor olfactory choices. Everyone just accepts it. 

I know the inner-workings of every company in the area. This one guy just got fired - he’s moving to Utah. His plan: blow through his savings. Across the way, there is a table that is evidentially perfectly situated for elder-businessmen to dole out sage advice to youngsters. It’s not so much advice as it is a lament of the present circumstances. Good luck getting a job when your foothold is the refrain, “Things aren’t like they used to be.” It might as well be the wall paper here. 

Eating has been reduced to a mechanical impulse. Not one is savoring anything here; it’s a feeding-station designed to distract from the mundane qualities of Wednesdays. Sandwich in, sandwich out. Never mind it cost $9, it’s $9 of escape - or numbness. 

Everyone is reading this. But no one cares about it. That’s the truth. 

Dec 14, 201110 notes
#coffee #nyc #lunch #business #humor #sketch
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