RICHES FROM THE IVORY COAST AWAIT! (AND SCOTT DEWAR RAISES HIS DUPLICITOUS HEAD)

So, maybe you thought I’d lost interest in all the Africans trying to give me money? Or maybe you thought all those African would-be benefactors had lost interest in me? Maybe you thought I’d shelved my plans for the beer-filled Cube pool, the Grolsch vortex fountain, the Lorisarium filled with delectable slugs, Fleshgod Apocalypse at my personal beck and call, and all the other grand plans for my promised wealth, including at least a $500 contribution to US orphanages?

Well, perish all those thoughts. You haven’t seen more e-mail exchanges with those African philanthropists for the sole reason that I’ve been busy with other important shit, like listening to Finnish metal, venting about Christmas, and generally sitting on my ass day-dreaming.

But it’s time to pick up the thread. (And no, this doesn’t take the place of another installment in Finland Tribute Week — we’ll have that for you in another hour or two.)

Though discouraged by the lack of follow-through from some of the motherfuckers people who contacted me from places like Nigeria, Ghana, Mali, and Burkina Faso, I haven’t given up hope. Surely, the day will come when my dreams of avarice will become glorious reality. In fact, a new opportunity has presented itself, courtesy of a touching e-mail from a young woman in the Ivory Coast (officially known as The Republic of Côte d’Ivoire), a country in West Africa that borders the afore-mentioned nations of Ghana, Mali, and Burkina Faso.

Oh — I also got yet another e-mail from Robert Scott Dewar. You remember him, don’t you? He’s one of those cocksuckers officials at the British High Commission in Abuja, Nigeria, who first led me down the path that I now can’t get off of. If you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, and assuming you care to know, you can read about it here and here. And there’s even more of this nonsense available via the IQ Subtraction category link over on the right side of this page.

So, after the jump, my recent exchange with Ms. Rose Ture, plus my effort, once and finally, to put Mr. Dewar in his proper place (which would be about a yard up the hershey highway of a bull elephant).

FIRST MESSAGE

From: Rose Ture
Date: December 6, 2010 7:24:40 AM PST
To: undisclosed recipients: ;
Subject: My Greetings to you
Reply-To: ture_r21@yahoo.fr

My Greetings to you

From Ms.Rose Ture,

It is my pleasure to write you after going through your profile i decided to contact you to help me out of my problem, however is not mandatory nor will i in any manner compel you to honour against your will, but first Iaet me introduce myself to you.

My name is Ms. Rose Ture, Am 21 years of age, I am a student of high school before I lost my parents in a car accident last year, so I have been out from school and been looking for a sincere person that I will trust and love.

I am the only child of my late parents and that has made me to run away from our family house because my uncles are after my life to take away my inheritance which my late father left for me in a Bank here in Cote D’ivoire. My entire dream is to find somebody that I can trust with my future life and inheritance and also who will be able to invest it wisely in any lucrative business.

Nobody knows about the inheritance which worth $7.5 million dollars in Cash deposited in a Bank here with my name as the next of kin. And I want you to also keep it very confidential till we can be able to transfer this money from the Bank here to your country and I will fly to join you immediately for future plans of continue my education once a join you in your country.

I have to trust somebody to save my future and that is why I am trusting you now. I want you to understand my critical situation and give me the love and assistance that I need, so that I will have a better life and also enjoy my inheritance with you. I will tell you more about myself as soon as I hear back from you, your interest to assist me and also build more trust to be able to have a better understanding.

I look forward for your urgent response, thank you and God bless you.

Best regard
Ms.Rose Ture

REPLY

Dear Ms. Ture:

Thank you for your interest in NO CLEAN SINGING. How do you like the new banner on the site? That groverXII did a rad job, don’t you think? Are you into Finnish metal? I bet you are.

Really sorry to hear about your parents perishing in that car accident. Life sucks sometimes, doesn’t it? Like just last week, speaking of cars, I had to get a new battery for mine. So I know the kind of shit you’re going through. Though I have to say, I don’t have any uncles after my life. That really sucks. I hope you’re locked and loaded, know what I mean? You really gotta protect yourself, at least until we figure out a way for you to get me that $7.5 million.

Yes, you definitely came to the right place. I am a really sincere person. And I will definitely help you invest that money wisely in a lucrative business. My business, in fact, which will become really fucking lucrative with $7.5 million in the bank. I’ve got some really cool ideas about how to invest that money. You’ll be really stoked to see what I do with it. Do you like lorises? How about Fleshgod Apocalypse? Grolsch beer? All good, right?

Just to prove how sincere I am, I do have to express a little honest caveat about your ideas. See, I don’t think it will work out for you to fly here and live with me. Y’know, I completely understand your desire to continue your education, because you can’t write English worth a shit. But I’m not in the English-tutoring business. No fucking way.

Plus, I don’t really wanna run the risk that your douchebag uncles might figure out where you are and come after me and the lorises with some big fuckin’ shanks.

Plus, my wife might not understand having a 21-year old living under the same roof wanting my love and assistance. Granted, the $7.5 million might make her more cooperative, but there’s always the chance she’ll go Lorena Bobbitt on my ass.

Now, I’m a part-time metal blogger, so by definition I’ve got a cagefighter mentality, I’m a risk-taker, I live out on the edge (in my mind). Goes with the territory, right? But as much of an I-don’t-give-a-shit kinda dude as I am, there are some things I don’t gamble with, and the mighty kingsnake is one of ’em. So no, the flying-over-here-and-living-with-me idea is a non-starter. Sincerely.

But don’t give up hope! I got some ideas. With that $7.5 million that I’m gonna invest wisely, I can set you up in fine style in a Motel 6 or someplace like that, at least ’til you can get a job. I was thinking a Motel 6 in South Florida would be a good place for you, seeing as how that’s the farthest place in the U.S. from where I live. Bound to be some jobs there for you. How does two weeks sound for your living expenses ’til you get a job?

I know some dudes that can set you up with some legal firearms, too. That’s one good thing about your coming to the U.S. of A — it’s easy as shit to buy heavy artillery, y’know for personal protection and recreational use. It’s your goddamned constitutional right over here to have pump-action Remington 870 with a bottom-loading, side ejecting receiver, a 3-shell internal tube magazine under the barrel, dual action bars, internal hammer, and a bolt that locks into an extension in the barrel, plus a 9mm  S&W SD SD40 self-defense pistol with the textured polymer grip and the black Melonite finish and the self-defense trigger for optimal, consistent pull, from first shot to last.

Hell, they probably sell this kind of armament in Miami-area flea markets. Your uncles come lookin’ for you over here, you can truly fuck their shit up. Shouldn’t take too long for you to earn enough for some decent firearms after you get a job.

So, we’re all set, right? Just tell me how you plan to get the $7.5 million into my account and we’ll be good to go. Can’t wait!

Oh, I almost forgot: I will absolutely keep your message and my reply highly confidential. Won’t share them with a living soul. No one will see this.

Hails and horns,
Islander

SECOND MESSAGE

From: “Robert S. Dewar”
<robtscottdewar@yahoo.com>
Date: November 11, 2010 1:35:54 AM PST
Subject: We are Sorry [The British High Commission in Nigeria]
Reply-To: high_commission@w.cn

BRITISH HIGH COMMISSION
Dangote House,
Aguyi Ironsi Street,
Maitama District, Abuja.
TEL: +234 8068477644

[ The British High Commission in Nigeria]

Attention: Beneficiary

Compliments of the season and the best of all, we wish to bring to your notice that your name was listed by the Nigeria Financial Intelligent Unit (NFIU) for these exercise of compensating scammed victims, those listed some have been endorsed by the British High Commission in Nigeria yours was among those reported unpaid as at today and we wish to instruct you to see the instruction of the commission to make sure you receive you compensation instantaneously.

Be advised that you are not required to make any reimbursement before your fund is endorsed to you, do make sure that the NFIU approve your payment on Monday, contact office of the Consular for an advice on how your fund will be endorsed to you and kindly forward your mailing address and contact Tel: Number via: high_commission@w.cn

Call or send an SMS to: +234 8068477644 to confirm if the endorsement date (Monday) suites you.

Yours in service,
Robert Dewar

REPLY

Hey Scott, how’s it hangin’? Listen, I’ve figured out you’re a duplicitous motherfucker and that the word “honesty” isn’t in your personal dictionary, but try really hard to level with me here: You don’t read your fuckin’ e-mail, do you? Because if you did, you would have seen my last reply to your last message before this current piece of garbage you sent me. In fact, you don’t even bother to remember your own e-mails, do you?

Lemme help you out: You and your douchebag colleague John Morgan promised me, almost two fucking months ago, that you would send me a pre-funded ATM card. I told you how much money needed to be “pre-funded” on that card, I made clear that I wasn’t paying any fucking courier fees or giving you any DHL account number, and I told you to quit dicking around and SEND THE FUCKING CARD!

And now you act like none of that happened, and now I’m supposed to call or SMS you to get instructions about instructions? Well, I’ve got an instruction for you: Get your dick out of Morgan’s bunghole and go fuck yourself.

No, wait — I’ve got a better idea. Go find a wild African bull elephant and try to climb up his rectum. If he objects, just tell him you’re trying to return to the womb from whence you came, you slimy excuse for a bureaucrat.

I don’t need you. I gotta line on a shitload more money than you offered from an honest orphan chick in The Ivory Coast. So don’t write me again.  Ever.  Fuck you.

Yours in service,
Islander