Dear Beloved One...

I don’t know about you, but me, I just love junk email.

The first thing I do when I open my email account is to check how much new junk has slipped through the firewalls that are supposed to filter out malevolent ware trying to get at me in my private domain. It gives me quite a buzz when I see 2 or 3 new posts in the junk-mail folder. And, to enjoy them even more, I save them for last.

After dealing with other stuff in the inbox, where, incidentally, a few phish hooks manage to plant themselves, I then turn my attention to the entertainment of the day. There, I find an assortment of temptations impossible to resist. And, so, ignoring warnings not to open items unless I am sure who they are from, etc and with my eyes shut, I stretch out my barge-pole and click on where it says, “I’m not sure.”  When I open my eyes again the potentially destructive missile (I meant missive) has been safely opened. So far, none has detonated with consequences that I rue (but I don’t know, do I?), and that gives me confidence to press on and examine the contents.

First, I take a quick look at the ones that want to sell me software by which I can improve the performance of my personal computer. Without too much delay, I bin them. Then I open the others that want to improve my own personal performance in ways that I can’t possibly discuss in this family-oriented blog. I marvel at the impertinence and, with a wry smile, consign them to the bin as well.

Then the real fun begins. Again, ignoring warnings as to possible harm to my financial health, I begin to deal with the ones that purport to come from some financial institution or the other, with subject lines such as, “Alert - Issues On Your Account‏,” or _**** Bank: - Protecting the security of your account,”‏ and which then go on, in the body of the email: “Dear Valued Client we are currently performing regular maintenance of our security measures. Your account has been randomly selected for this maintenance (Lucky me), and you will now be taken through a series of identity verification pages. Protecting the security of your account is our primary concern (sure), and we apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.” “You are far too kind,” I murmur, as I bin.

Then, there are the more blatant ones that try to set up a new account, using all your personal data, which they invite you to kindly supply them with, because, wait for it: “Attention This is to officially inform you that we have verified your contract/Inheritance/lottery file Presently on my desk, and I found out that you have not received your payment Due to your lack of co-operation and not fulfilling the obligations giving to you in respect to your payment.” What!!?? “My lack of co-operation? My obligations?” I almost choke. They can’t even make up their mind whether I have been the beneficiary of an inheritance, contract or lottery prize money. It’s types like these that give scoundrels a bad name, with that kind of stupidity. So, they then go on to tell me that I can only access my inheritance, contract lottery money or whatever by using an ATM card which they will create for me after I have supplied them with all my personal details. Really? These guys ought not to be allowed to get out of bed in the morning.

                And then, there are the ones who claim that they are working in a bank, usually located in Lagos, Abuja, or Lome, or some other major African city, and who, in the performance of their routine bank duties have come upon a few zillion American dollars (they are certain to denominate their find in American  dollars) and wish you, that is me, of all the world’s six billion people, to share in this unclaimed loot that a deposed, deceased, or both, African dictator has forgotten about, or whose legal beneficiaries can be found no where on this earth. All I need to do is supply them with my bank details, my phone and fax number, and 25% will be mine. Mind you, they will require a small deposit of $25.00 or so to ascertain my good faith or seriousness in doing business with them. And of course, I should be sure to tell no one about my impending good fortune. Don’t want to make others jealous, now, do we?

                But the ones that make me chuckle the most are those that open with a line such as, “Dear Beloved One.” Take this one, for example, which I reproduce word for word, as is (Sorry, all those Esther Williams’s out there):
 “I am Mrs Esther Williams. from Switzerland I am deaf and has cancer of the breast, I lost my husband 12yrs ago without a child of mine. I have to sell all my properties left by my husband because the doctors say i have less than 2months to live. I have deposited the funds of $5 Million United State Dollars, (American dollars again. Well, shouldn’t complain, really. After all it is the world’s number 1 reserve currency, useful in shifting drugs, terrorism funds, etc. But still, I can’t wait to be propositioned in Chinese Yuan or Russian roubles) which i sold from my properties and deposit into a Bank. I want you to help me use the funds to help the charity,deaf and the motherless babies home before i die.If you are a good and honest Christian ,i shall give you the contact of the Bank and also the Deposit Certificate,so as to claim my funds before my death. Expecting your urgent response,and may God bless you as you carry out my wish. yours dying sister Mrs Esther Williams.” It is obvious that this particular Esther Williams was not paying much attention in English class, and that has now caught up with her on her death bed. And, incidentally, they don’t seem, worldwide, to teach syntax, spelling or punctuation at junk mail school. But back to our Esther. In her case, she is probably no more a childless widow, afflicted by deafness or battling terminal cancer and with five mill burning a hole in her hospital gown than Hosni Mubarak is a good and honest Christian.

                And that brings me precisely to the place where I want to be. That is, to make the point that dictators, every where, forgetful or otherwise, with or without children to inherit will, one day, get their comeuppance. So, as we watch African dictators being run out of town, we hope that our brothers and sisters succeed in ridding themselves of those kleptomaniac rascals, whose acts of larceny are orders of magnitude beyond the wildest imaginings of the petty internet scammers whom I have been poking fun at.

So, if you have an African or Arab dictator in your neighborhood, who is making your life miserable. You know what to do.  You have nothing to lose but your chains.

Tell Fren Tru