Operation Faust Story Central

Counterscam #1: All the Necessary Pieces.

2011-09-06T05:12:00.000-07:00

Oh the places you'll go! This beautiful offering from Dr. Seuss almost feels like an inspiration for this next episode of the scam email series. I reprise the role of my alter-ego, Jacob Landau, who this time around becomes a professor, an academic, an intellectual who naturally would have to be a lobotomy doctor. Following an email promising professor Landau an investment opportunity worth twenty million dollars, the professor, spurred into action by the possibility of acquiring better tools, more patients and more attractive employees, takes the kind and honourable Dr. Jeffrey Thabo up on his offer. He decides to extend his lecture tour in Europe and travel to South Africa where he will finally meet his most mysterious benefactor.

This is the first of a new batch of counterscams; scams that scam the scammer and the very first tale of insurmountable greed that is but the first step for this new direction. In this episode, we make use of the telephone numbers given to us and call the scammer, injecting a little more "reality" into the counterscam; a reality which is quickly smashed to pieces by Professor Landau's peculiar documentation of his life. Will the scammers figure it out? There's only one way to find out.

The original scam emails on blue background and my emails in plain text. Phone call recordings, courtesy of my partner-in-crime, The Interweb Crusader, available in chronological order through embedded flash players. Enjoy this fantastic production from Operation Faust!

FROM DR JEFF THABO
Address: 752 Rivonia Road
Sandton City Johannesburg
E-Mail: _____________
TELEPHONE: ________________
Fax: ____________

Dear Sir/Madam

CONFIDENTIAL INVESTMENT PROPOSAL

I'm Dr. Jeff Thabo a financial consultant based in Sandton City Johannesburg South Africa .I have a client (a widow) she has (USDM20,000,000.00 ) Twenty Million United States Dollars with a Private Equity Investment Trust Company for safe keeping only.

She wishes to invest in a stable economy outside South Africa and her interest is in companies with potentials for rapid growth in long terms. My client is interested in placing part of her funds into your company or private businesses, if your country's bi-laws allow foreign Investors.

You can contact me for more details via my mobile Phone or e-mail with your reference. Please on the reply of this Letter for confidentiality I will kindly advice that you reply me through my office fax number above and confirm by phone or email only Tel ________________.

Note: The fund is free from drug and laundering related offences.

Yours faithfully,
Dr. Jeff Thabo

Prof. Jacob Landau
L'Institut du Recherche Magnifiques
3, Rue du Fosse, Luxembourg
L-1014, Luxembourg

Dear Jeffrey Thabo,

Thank you for constructing readable sentences for me to read. I have read them all and I must admit that you proposition sounds most lucrative and profitable... for me anyway. So allow me a moment to introduce myself.

I am Professor Jacob Landau and I run a successful clinic based in Luxembourg specialising in the modern and cutting-edge practices of transorbital lobotomy, eugenics and phrenology. We are strongly associated with the Connerie Institute and the University of West Brominghamshire where I carry out important research on people's predisposition to musical theatre and its connection to the length of the opposable thumb. My business has experienced significant growth over the last three years and I'm happy to announce profit figures of over 14 million US dollars with more than 4500 lobotomies performed. It's the surgery of the future and only now, with modern super-sharp icepicks and ultra-precise hammers can the procedure render the oft sought-after result. Recently we've branched out with a mobile service called the "Lobotomobile" and we visit many local institutions, businesses, schools and public libraries where we perform all manner of skull measurement, leucotomy, lobotomy, trepanning, toe counting, nail clipping, as well as giving advice on all manner of medical themes, like snot.

If there is any company that you should invest your money in, it is my company. I can promise you a significant return in as little as six months from the date of investment. This investment would be used to buy more super-sharp icepicks, ultra-precise laser-guided hammers, digital parallel port callipers, and to hire more staff in order to increase out daily lobotomy count.

Please write back and let me know if you're ready to start investing. If you do choose to invest in my company, you will be entitled to an "investor perk package" which will allow you to take advantage of free procedures performed by myself or one of our qualified surgeons.

I hope to hear from you soon,

You may call me "professor",
Prof. Jacob Landau

Phone Call #1 - The Professor and Jeffrey

get acquainted and find a common language.

Attention:

Thank you for the prompt reply; I have gone through your email with my client (Mrs. Mercia Johnson) and she is very delighted to handle and commit this fund into your private business or companies / lucrative businesses as she do not have any business idea, you will be the one to lead her into a lucrative business in your country.

This fund is currently deposited under Equity Investment Trust, and it will be very appropriate if you can come down to South Africa for the opening of the non-resident investment account in your name, with any commercial bank of your choice, whereas the Equity Investment Trust will deposited the money into your account for onward transfer into your overseas account for future investment.

My client is reliable to procedure all the legal request to transfer this fund out, and secondly as a widow she is very sceptical on the scams that is going on the internet, she want you and her to sign the agreement that will be prepared by my attorney together, and you will confirm the fund in your account from your bank while still in South Africa after which you and your partner will travel back to your country for the investment aspect of this transaction.

Tell me when it will be convenient for you to arrive here, as you can see that my client is very prudent, and considerate to know more about her foreign partner, I also hope that this arrangement will give us an equal opportunity to know more about each other, and also bring a mutual trust and understanding of each other on the transaction.

Secondly, I have forwarded the copy of your reply to your partner (Mrs. Mercia Johnson) and call her on private mobile telephone number _______________

I hope she would be very delighted to welcome you from the Johannesburg International Airport.

I wish you a safe and successful trip on your journey to this place for the final completion of this fund transfer.

Thanks
Regards,

Dr. Jeff Thabo

Prof. Jacob Landau
L'Institut du Recherche Magnifiques
3, Rue du Fosse, Luxembourg
L-1014, Luxembourg

Dear Jeffrey Thabo,

Thank you kindly for writing to me by means of writing a written response through electronic mail knowns as email. Do you want to be called Jeff or Jeffrey? I feel that Jeffrey sounds a lot more important and distinguished and since you are an important and distinguished man full of importance and distinguishness, I thought that I would distinguish you further by means of importance and by using a more fitting version of your name. You decide and let me know as soon as you can, as this is a matter of vital importance to our business plan.

Anyway, I have called you yesterday but you didn't seem to know who I was. Did you read my email? I am ready to have Mistress Mercia Johnson invest her money in my cutting-edge clinic. I have swept the floor, greased all the door knobs and made my secretary grease another knob. Does the esteemed Mistress Mercia Johnson like greasing knobs? Do tell me, because if she does then she is exactly the sort of investor that we are after.

I have already started upgrading the facilities in preparation for the planned upgrades and have looked into possible travel plans to South Africa. I looked up South Africa on a map and it appears to be in the south of Africa. That's weird. Before I buy the ticket, can you tell me about any risks that I may face in the south of Africa, specifically in South Africa? I would just like to know some basic statistics about death by rhinoceros and things like that. Do I need body armour? Can the honourable Mistress Mercia Johnson pay for my ticket? If she finds the Higgs Boson lying around in South Africa will she call CERN and tell them?

Since it's the Mistress Mercia Johnson who is investing in my clinic, would it not make more sense for her to visit me here in Luxembourg? I have a spare empty bedroom in my house and I think there is still some food in the fridge, so she would be well looked-after, and I could even give her a free lobotomy and take her on a tour of the city... for free! I consider myself a generous man of honour, valour, honourable integrity, integrated valourity and valorous manoeuvrability. Interestingly, "manoeuvrability" rhymes with "equity"; isn't that something? I think we will become really good friends and business partners, Jeffrey Thabo, and I am glad that someone like you has chosen me and only me to be your very own, personal, private and discreet, much loved and appreciated business partner.

I have decided that I will call either you or the most esteemed, almighty and holy Mistress Mercia Johnson later today. I don't sleep a lot so do excuse me if I call at weird hours of the day and if my voice is a bit croaky from too much singing. If you don't mind, when I call you or Mercia next, I would like to express my gratitude through a song that I will improvise for you on the spot. Perhaps this will motivate the all-powerful, all-knowing, omniscient and omnipotent, jaw-droppingly gorgeous and phantasmagorically phenomenal Mistress Mercia Johnson to invest even more in my clinic that I love so very much. Do let me know if that's a possibility.

Alright, I will speak to you later today. I hope that you are well and that your children are doing really well at school. If they're not, send them to another school. If you don't have another school then build one.

Before I go, here's a medical poem I wrote. Tell me if you like it.

---
I am a doctor
They call me a doctor
Unlike the proctologist
Called Doctor Proktor
He failed his exams
Of the medical sorts
So he settled for ass-
Isting people with warts
---

Your new friend,
Prof. Jacob Landau

Phone Call #2 - The Professor and Jeffrey

become friends... well, almost.

Phone Call #3 - The Professor meets the sultry
Mistres Mercia Johnson, and sparks fly!

Dear Prof. Jacob Landau.

Thanks for your calls because I just received a call from Madam informing me that you also called her few hours ago.

I have gone through your long email and content well noted.

I wish to inform you that my country is one of the most beautiful countries in Africa. We just finished hosting the Fifa world Cup by this time last 2010 and all the world came here and went home without any complaining, because we also have a good European weather.

Be rest assured that your safety is our major concerns and as such, you should proceed with your traveling arrangement and send me your flight Itinerary so that I will book for your hotel. Do you prefer a 5hotel or 3star?

Note that my client/your partner (Mrs. Mercia Johnson) shall be traveling back with you immediately after the final execution of these funds transfer. This is a process of 2/3 bank working days and after which, both of you would travel back and you will be here until your bank calls you and confirmed that the transfer has reflected before leaving.

Be rest assured that all the necessary arrangement has been completed and the only thing left is your arrival here in the Johannesburg. You can view my country/Johannesburg City in the map.

Rgds.
Dr. J. Thabo

Prof. Jacob Landau
L'Institut du Recherche Magnifiques
3, Rue du Fosse, Luxembourg
L-1014, Luxembourg

Dear Jeffrey Thabo,

Thank you so much for using your keyboard to type and communicate with my by means of written vowels and consonants. Yesterday was a really tough day at my clinic. A routine lobotomy didn't go as per plan and the patient got up at the end and started being silly. When we tried to calm him down, he became agitated and started throwing things around. I have then tried to administer sedatives, but that has given him even more power, it seems. He knocked out my support staff, destroyed all the equipment, ripped his shirt open, roared loudly and jumped out of a nearby window plummeting three stories to the ground. I looked out of the window expecting him to have injured himself, but he was fine, and just like that he ran away and disappeared in between the buildings across the street. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, but I think the most responsible thing is to not say anything and hope that the problem simply solves itself. What do you think?

You will be happy to learn. Let me try that again. You will be happy to learn that I have booked my flight to South Africa, which is a country in the south of Africa aptly named to coincide with its own geography. I have looked up South Africa on the map because I needed to make sure that it's actually there. To my great surprise, IT IS! I then took that map to my travel agent and pointed to South Africa on the map... and she arranged my ticket. Here I am pasting the itinerary that just arrived in my email.

AIRLINE	FLIGHT No.	ITINERARY
	AY833	HELSINKI (16:00) - LONDON (17:10) Leaving: HELSINKI INTERNATIONAL on 02.09.2011
	AY5945	LONDON (19:10) - JOHANNESBURG (06:55) Arriving: TAMBO INTERNATIONAL on 03.09.2011

I'm flying out of Helsinki, which is in Finland, because I have decided that I will make my trip to South Africa coincide with a lecture that I will be giving in Helsinki [which is in Finland] the day before. The lecture is about the new technology that my research institute is developing in conjunction with our patented lobotomy techniques. Believe it or not, Jeffrey Thabo, but our new, cutting-edge procedures in the field of lobotomy allow us to install all manner of devices in the person's head.

Our flagship product, the first of its kind, is the Lobotophone[TM]. It's a very exciting new device that connects directly to you via your new lobotomy, and allows you to use an address book, dial numbers, check the time and even access GSM internet! During that lecture I will be demonstrating, for the very first time no less, the very first Lobotophone[TM] prototype which I will connect to a volunteer from the audience. The volunteer will then access the internet via the Lobotophone[TM] and communicate with the rest of the audience using internet relay chat, which comes pre-installed on the Lobotophone[TM]. Of course, there are many other devices that can be controlled with the Lobotophone[TM] such as a variety of compatible kitchen appliances, washing machines, alarm systems, self-deployed parachutes, weapons, and body augmentation devices. This is all very new and exciting, and exactly the sort of technology that the lovely Mercia Johnson should invest her money in. Please let her know that now is the right time to invest!

I am so very glad that the esteemed Mistress Mercia Johnson will be travelling back with me. Does that mean that, while she's with me, I will be entitled to her bits? If so, do let me know as that would be very exciting for me and indeed it would make all the business-related matters much easier to "handle", if you know what I'm saying. She sounded so nice on the phone, and so I'm prompted to wonder. Do let me know as soon as you can, Jeffrey Thabo.

Excellent! I will try to call you soon, possibly even tonight, and make sure that you got this email. I hope you're well and I will see you in personal person very soon. I cannot wait!

Inventor, doctor, PROFESSOR!
Prof. Jacob Landau

Dear Pro. Jacob.

Thanks for your email and today's calls.
Sorry, i have just finished having a meeting with the bank officials and below are the details for the opening of the Non resident Dollar bank account.

(1). INTERNATIONAL PASSPORT
(2). PROVE OF YOUR RESIDENTIAL ADDRESS. (This can be any of your telephone, electricity Utility bill receipt)
(3). Three months bank statements
(4) Opening of account fee of any amount starting from $500 upwards.

This is all the requirements and i will go to the security firm and inform them that we are now ready to collect our consignment with them, so that they will use their security/alarm vehicle to deliver the consignment to the bank immediately after you had arrived here.

They said we should give them a 2days notice before coming for collection so that they will prepare all the necessary paper works which would enable them to deliver the funds to the bank.

Regards and i wait for your confirmations.
Dr. Jeffery Thabo

Prof. Jacob Landau
L'Institut du Recherche Magnifiques
3, Rue du Fosse, Luxembourg
L-1014, Luxembourg

Dear Jeffrey Thabo,

Thank you for writing. My apologies for taking a while to get back to you, but I have been preparing for my lecture in Helsinki. I had to do a lot of reading to make sure that people understand what I'm talking about, because if they don't understand then their understanding in the future may be clouded by several misunderstandings that collectively led to the current non-clarity in regards to the matters presented at the lecture which has not happened yet because it will not happen until I am ready and until the day during which it's happening because that is the day that people have been told the lecture is taking place and in order to avoid even more misunderstandings, I have to understand it better than they do and avoid any further issues dealing with understanding by explaining everything in full. Do you understand?

As per your request, I have been trying to get the necessary documents ready. I have scanned my passport for you and have also found and scanned my latest power bill so that you may verify my address. I was born in Belgium but I currently live in Luxembourg because I have established my clinic there. You'll be glad to know that the clinic is going really well and three new Lobotomobiles are now servicing the province and surrounding areas. Business is going so well, in fact, that we may soon run out of customers here in Luxembourg and have to move elsewhere. Tell me, is there a market for lobotomy in South Africa? Lobotomy is easier with a large head. Do you have a large head, Jeffrey Thabo?

As for bank statement, unfortunately I use internet banking so I do not have statements mailed to me. If you want, I would be happy to give you my banking details so that you may check everything yourself. You may have to call the bank first, but that can be arranged. Please tell me if that's something you'd like to do.

I'm not really sure how to give you the money, but since I'm going to South Africa next week anyway, I can give it to you when I arrive... in South Africa. Have you ever been in South Africa? I've heard that it's a wonderful place, like a paradise on Earth. There are naked women there, juicy fruit hanging plentifully off trees and government institutions and dinosaurs. If you want, I will take you there one day... to South Africa.

So I hope everything is in order and that you can authorise the consignment with the information I've provided for you. Let me know if anything is amiss and also if you know anyone who would like to participate in a study I'm conducting at the institute. I want to pay a volunteer 500 Belgian Euro simply for filling out a survey for me. I will wire the money anywhere in the world once the volunteer completes the survey and sends it in to me along with their details. Tell me if you know anyone who would like to do that, or perhaps if you'd like to do that yourself, Jeffrey Thabo.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope your wife is a loving wife and that your children don't grow up to be murderers.

Hugs and salutations,
Prof. Jacob Landau

---attachments---

---end attachments---

Dear Prof. Jacob.

Thanks for your longest letter as always.

I got your passport copy and electricity bills utility. Yes, these are correct but i want you to note very importantly that all this documents shall be presented to the bank by yourself. You don't send it to me because i don't work in the bank and as such, it can only be presented to the bank upon your immediate arrival in Johannesburg South Africa.

You still have not sent me your full flight itinerary to enable me to book for your hotel?

I will be going to the security firm by Monday to inform them that we are now ready to colect our consignment by the first week of Sept 2011 and i will also get their outstanding monthly statement,to enable them to deliver the consignment with their security vehicle.

Rgds.
Dr. Jeffery Thabo

Prof. Jacob Landau
L'Institut du Recherche Magnifiques
3, Rue du Fosse, Luxembourg
L-1014, Luxembourg

Dear Jeffrey Thabo,

I have contacted my air travel agent and they've sent me, via post, a copy of the itinerary, and because I do not know your address, I have scanned it into my computer using a scanner which uses light to look at documents and tell the computer what they look like. Then, on my computer, I've selected the File menu and clicked on Save As, and then named the file "flight itinerary.jpg" so that it's easy for you to identify it by means of reading the file name which I've put on it for you to identify. I hope that this is enough. Now you have everything.

I would like for you to book a hotel room for me and make sure that it's a hotel befitting my qualifications. I'm a lobotomy surgeon, so as long as you tell the concierge that, he will know what sort of room I'm after. Just as a note, I do not like basements, attics, utility closets, and rooms close to toilets or people who are too loud or rowdy during their private night-time activities. Please make a reservation for me in a nice hotel, that has nice comfortable chairs. I also want a bed in my room... with a mattress. If you could also let me know what kind of entertainment is available in Johannesburg, I would very much appreciate it. I like most things like sticking my private parts into other people's private parts. If there is anything like that available, please book that for me too.

Will I need any money when I'm there in South Africa? If so, how much will I need?

I am leaving for my lecture in Helsinki soon, but I will call you after my lecture just before I go on my flight to see you and the lovely Mistress Mercia Johnson. I cannot wait! This is very exciting. I hope you are as excited as I am, Jeffrey Thabo.

Your friend, partner, doctor and companion,
Prof. Jacob Landau

---attachments---

---end attachments---

Phone Call #4 - The Professor calls Jeffrey from Helsinki
to make the final arrangements for his imminent arriva.

Dear Prof. Jacob.

Your flight details is noted and as such, i will book for your hotel and let you know if you leaves to this place.

Regarding my last email, i shall be having a meeting with the security firm later this afternoon and after which, i will get back to you with the outstanding statement.

Dr. Jeffery Thabo

Dear Prof. Jacob Landau

Acording to our final meeting with the director of the secu cop.
We are having an outstanding bills of $6,159.99 as monthly charges and delivery cost to the bank is $3,040 only

Dr Jeff

Phone Calls #5-#17 - The Professor arrives but gets lost at the Tambo
International Airport. Oh, the humanity! Fortunately there are waffles!

Bait and Switch

2010-11-26T00:14:00.000-08:00

Things are changing, but nothing changes, and still there are changes. The changes I've noticed concern mainly how sensitive scammers have become to the process of baiting. With all the scam emails that I have received recently, many of them simply didn't even bother to reply to my somewhat mild innuendo and sarcasm. It could all be because I am becoming so far-out that they know I'm a waste of time right off the bat. However, I've tried to curb my enthusiasm to mock these lame attempts at confidence tricking and only offer scattered and mostly obscure references to movies and other ironic claptrap. However, even then, by the first or second email, the scam grinds to a stop. The confusion stems mainly from the fact that even though my writing may have been obscure, the "drivers license" certainly wasn't, and strangely enough it was accepted by the scammer with a follow-up email. I suppose that if I cannot have fun with it then there is no point in doing it. Perhaps I can invent some new way of handling these scams. In today's example we have another holy trinity; one name in the email header, another signing the email, and the email itself referring me to yet another person who, again, is going to make me rich. I love these scams, though I often wonder if the scammers will ever come up with another story.

As always, their emails highlighted in yellow, mine in plain text.

Subject: Claim's Confirmation Call is Required.
Date: Wed, 24 Nov 2010 17:14:27 -0500
From: Adam Shamir shamira@nsu.law.nova.edu
To: undisclosed-recipients

De Lotto.
Postbus 3074
2280 GB Rijswijk.

Congratulations!!!

We write to inform you of the result of our Internet Sweepstakes program that was conducted on the 20th Day of November, 2010. This e-mail address which was extracted among other e-mail addresses from the Internet Data Base and entered into our program with a File Serial Number: DL-45410/040ZY, has won you its owner cash prize money of €1,925,000 Only (One Million, Nine Hundred and Twenty-Five Thousand Euros Only). You can only claim this fund by contacting our payment release department through the below stated details.

Mr. Kelvin Ochus.
Tel: +31-208-932027
Fax: +31-208-907604
Email: info@lottodept.nl

This lottery program was conducted and sponsored by us De Lotto Company as a Goodwill Gesture and you don’t need to purchase our lottery ticket before entering this program because it was a free email sweepstakes program. Your winning must be claimed not later than the 28days of your receipt of this message hence we advice you provide our payment department as mentioned above with the below stated details for the processing of your payment file.

1). Complete Full Names:
2). Residential Address:
3). Occupation:
4). Phone/Fax Numbers:
5). A Scan Copy of any valid proof of your Identification like International Passport or Driver’s License that will be use for the processing of your payment file:

Congratulations and happy spending upon your receipt of the winning funds.

Sincerely yours,
Suzanne Harmes. (Programs Coordinator)
For: Lotto NL. (Lotto is een onderdeel van De Lotto).
Copyright(c) 2009 by De Lotto, the Netherlands.

Dear Kevin Ochus,

I've been contacted by Suzanne Harmes writing on behalf of Adam Shamir who told me to contact you, Kevin Ochus, in regards to a large sum of money that I have won as part of your Goodwill Gesture internet lottery sweepstakes conducted on the 20th of November, 2010. The prize sum was to the value of only €1,925,000 and though I personally don't think that's enough, I will gladly accept your prize money anyway. I am writing straight away in order to secure my winnings and spend the money as quickly as possible, thereby fueling the economy. Do you think I'm doing the right thing? Anyway, here are the details you've requested:

1. Complete Full Names: Jacob Landau
2. Residential Address: 113 Rue de Variconte
Plombieres Nord
3E2-11E, 42-0021
Belgium
3. Occupation: Sidewalk-Groove Inspector
4. Phone/Fax Numbers: +32 2 699 641290
5. A scan of an ID document: [attached]

Thank you for including me in your most esteemed competition and for selecting me to be the random winner of your lottery sweepstakes internet goodwill gesture contest telethon. I will do everything I can in order to be a good winner and so I can represent you and your company is the best possible light. This means that I will have to stop drinking and beating my wife... but that's OK. I will do anything to get the money!

Yours truly,
Jacob Landau

Subject: Claim's Acknowledgment/Payment Preference.
Date: Thu, 25 Nov 2010 12:05:57 +0100
From: Kelvin Ochus
To: Jacob T. Landau

Attn: Jacob Landau.

This is to acknowledge my receipt of your email message with regards to your winning of our De Lotto sweepstakes Prize. Based on your information given and which correspond with what we have on our system, I have file in an application with our Gaming Control Board for the issuing of your payment approval document that will enable us carry out the release of your lottery funds either through a Bank-to-Bank Wire Transfer means or through that of a certified bank check depending on your preference. Kindly indicate your prefer means of receiving this winning funds as that will enable us know exactly on what to do upon our receipt of the approval letter from our gaming Board.

It might well interest you to know that it was your email address that won you this free lottery program and that all email addresses (Including yours) that were use on this program were extracted from the Internet and the winners were gotten based on random selection through an independent panel of judges. You can as well give us a call if you need further clarification.

We await your urgent response with regards to your payment preference.

Best Regards.
Mr. Kelvin Ochus.
De Lotto NL.
Tel: +31-208-932027
Fax: +31-208-907604
Email: k.ochus@lottodept.nl

Disclaimer:
This message and it's attachment (if Any) are for designated recipient(s) only
and may contain privileged and private information. If you feel you have
received this message in error, kindly delete it and notify me immediately
because i will not accept any liability for losses or damages resulting directly
or indirectly from the transmission of this e-mail message.

Dearest Kelvin Ochus,

Thanks for writing. This is to acknowledge my acknowledgment of the receipt of your acknowledgment of my previous letter which was also a form of confirmation by way of my receipt of your initial correspondence. If you can, please acknowledge this receipt of your receipt by way of verifying the following correspondence from me. Also, I sincerely apologise for initially referring to you as Kevin. Of course, as I have now noticed, your real name is Kelvin; your true name, the one you were given by your parents right after you were born. I know how it feels to have people get your name wrong because it happens to me all the time. I can understand why your parents named you Kelvin too, instead of the lesser, more inferior Kevin. The missing letter "L" notwithstanding, Kevin is always a name of a kid who gets bullied in school or who gets into an accident and has all sorts of funny adventures with the electric hospital bed later on. Kelvin, however, is a name of a famous scientist, and so it's only proper for a man of your esteem and power to be named after him.

Now, let's get down to business. After much consideration and a few heated discussions with my wife, I have decided that I will go with option number two, that is to say that we [I] would like you to send me a cheque to the value of my winnings in this most exciting internet random selection independent email judge panel gemini croquet contest.

Please kindly inform the gaming control board, in writing no less, of my choice and ask them to make haste with releasing my money. After all, this is about me. This is about my money; this is about money due me, which I will collect.

Hugs,
Jacob Landau

This Insubstantial Pageant

2010-10-04T02:22:00.000-07:00

What seemed like a relentless torrent of scam emails just a few weeks ago has suddenly dried up... stopped dead, almost as if the underground collective decided to pack their bags and leave for greener pastures and perhaps to explore lands unknown. Either that or the ever-so-versatile character of Jacob Landau has been blacklisted within the community, possibly with voodoo curses chanted over an open fire with some poor animal sacrificed to appease the restless spirits now sent en route to turn my life into a nightmare. Whatever it may be, the fact remains that this week, and in fact for the past few weeks, I have had nothing but useless scraps to offer, and so, with humbleness and a certain sense of bitter-sweet victory unwanted and undeserved, I will post the last two emails that went absolutely nowhere. Despite their nature and somewhat uninspiring attempts at relieving me of my hard-earned cash, I still believe that these articles should be available for public viewing, even if only to slightly disenfranchise the efforts of those who see it fit to lie and take advantage of people's good natures.

So this week we have Anderson Albert [a.k.a. Anderson Freeman [a.k.a. Barrister Terry [a.k.a. S. McKenzie]]] who is desperately trying to avoid some manner of "international sanctions" in order to "nestle the fund". Just a few days later, one Davis Elliott writes to me from a "leading bank", purportedly requiring my input on an investment opportunity in my country [whatever that happens to be]. We all know it's a game of numbers, and in a perverse sort of way, so is this. The only difference is that I am unlikely to ever make any money by doing this, and because I do it out of love, I am just as dedicated to this pursuit as they are to theirs. Let the games begin!

[their emails in yellow and black, mine in plain text]

Subject: GOOD DAY SIR
From: ANDERSON ALBERT [smckenzie@westnet.com.au]
Reply-To: ANDERSON FREEMAN [infoprojectmanager13@yahoo.com]

Dear Sir,

I am a private consultant in England Representing the interest of a client who is looking for an investments opportunity in your country.

He needs your assistance because, He is a public official and there is imposition of International sanctions on his country.

I will appreciate your kind reply to let me know if you are able to avail my client an investment portfolio to nestle the fund.

Best regards,

BARRISTER TERRY.
Email: bbbvterry@yahoo.com
Tell: +44-871-315-5624
292 Haunch Lane
Birmingham, West Midlands
B13 0QS United Kingdom.

Dear Anderson Freeman,

Thank you for writing. You have no idea how fortunate you are to find someone like me to participate in this most lucrative endeavor. Your client sounds like a person of taste, honour and respect, and I value those qualities in another. In fact, I am much like that myself; a man of valour, strong moral fiber, with an acute taste for the sophisticated, and a insatiable sense of superiority. If there is anyone on this planet who can bring this investment opportunity of yours to fruition, it's me. Like Shakespeare once said: "Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind."

True to form and those immortal words, I've promised myself a long time ago that I will never leave a rack behind... especially a nice rack, like the one that presumably belongs to your client. If it's my assistance you client needs then it's my assistance she shall get. So, how can I assist your client? Is there something I can do to satisfy her? A little night on the town, perhaps, to put her in a good mood? We can then come back to my place and "discuss" various "business opportunities". Don't worry, I've done this before so I know how these "clients" roll. So set me up and I'll do the smooth talkin' from there.

Don't you just hate those "international sanctions"? Once I lift the "sanction" on your "client", we will "nestle" that "fund" all night long... and that's a promise! In other words, my dearest new friend Anderson Freeman [or whatever your name is], hook me up with this desirable client of yours and I'll go through her "stock portfolio".

Assistant at your command,
Jacob Landau

---

Subject: How are you?
From: Davis Elliott
Reply-To: davisseliottt@aol.com

Hello my Dear,

I hope this correspondence of mine meets you in good health.

I am Mr. Davis Elliott. I am a staff in one of the leading banks. I am writing to seek your cooperation for investment partnership in your country. I shall provide the FUND for the investment.

I will give you full details of my investment proposal on receipt of your acknowledgment of this correspondence.

I await your response in earliest.

My regards,
Mr. Davis Elliott

Dear Davis Elliott,

Thank you so much for writing and selecting me for this most lucrative business opportunity. Yes, my health is good and has been for quite a while. I'm one of those people who doesn't get sick much, so I have lots of time to entertain various entrepreneurial offerings on the internet. I am quite curious as to what this particular partnership may entail. Will we be working together? Will there be cubicles or large open-plan offices with attractive secretaries that you and I will have secret affairs with? I don't know, but I've seen so many movies that it seems like that is what we should do. Please tell me more.

Also, which bank are you from? You've mentioned a leading bank, but I'm not quite sure which one. I got a television set a few days ago, you know, one of those new electrical appliances that shows you a moving picture that is beamed to your house from a television station. Amazing stuff! Isn't it wonderful what they can do with technology these days? Anyway, I put the television set on and I sat in front of it and an advertisement for a bank came on. At the end it mentioned the name of the bank and it said "your country's leading bank". So when I got your email I thought that this is probably the one you work for, but then I remembered all the other banks that also claimed they're the leading kind. You seem like you're smarter than me, Davis Elliott, so maybe you can explain.

To sum it all up, I am willing to cooperate with you, I am excited about this prospective prospect and am looking forward to a long-lasting business partnership between us. How much are you willing to invest in this and what exactly are we investing in? I don't really mind as I have lots of money. My grandfather died a few years ago and it wasn't his death that surprised everyone but rather the 31 million dollars that he had saved up in his bank [not a leading one, unfortunately]. You see, he was a mining tycoon and apparently went bankrupt after his diamond mine in the Republic of Congo collapsed, killing approximately 150 people, plus or minus a few, since they weren't all legal workers and worked unregistered. Then, after his death, we discovered the money. After a year of legal battles, forcing my grandmother to sell her house in order to pay the legal fees, I've managed to win all of the money. My lawyer was great and pulled some strings that I didn't even know existed. To cut a long story short, I have a lot of money that I really don't know what to do with. I already bought three Aston Martins and a summer retreat on the east coast. This means that your email has arrived at a very good time because I need something else to invest in.

Write back soon!

Love,
Jacob Landau

Paid in Full

2010-09-17T07:26:00.000-07:00

That's it! I have had enough! Enough of random people trying to convert me to their particular religion. I get unsolicited material in the mailbox, I get bait-and-switch leaflets on the street, I get door-knockers in suits, door-knockers with shirts tucked into their pants, old ladies, and as of late, people from Africa, who I really like because they're cool and speak with great accents and have an incredible dress sense, but they always ruin it by trying to tell me how great Jesus is. There was one African girl who knocked on my door recently and I was sure that she would try to sell me Jesus, however, she was from Telstra, and if there is one thing I despise as much as organised religion, it's Telstra. So instead of Jesus, she tried to sell me some internet connection deal that I could not really concentrate on because she was just so damn pretty. Unfortunately my Telstra-hating instinct overpowered my lust and I've ruined any chance I may have had with her by lying in every answer to every question that she asked. This just goes to show that regardless of how beautiful the woman is, my principles are always stronger. I am proud of that.

Anyway, I went out with a friend of mine earlier tonight to catch up, talk, have an eat to bite [sic] and just generally savour the end of another weird working week. It was a beautiful, albeit cold, spring evening, and as I walked her to her bus stop just before we would part for the night, an arm holding a leaflet is thrust towards me from a by-standing party on the sidewalk. Thinking it may be one of those coupons for comic books or a conspiracy theory, I take it and as I walk on, I begin to read. Within the first sentence I already know what's ahead.

Skimming the literature quickly, I've decided to have a closer look at it later, once my dear friend is safely on her bus. That's what I did, and now I will disassemble it. Not only because I can and find it amusing, but also because perhaps those who honestly want to consider this absolute waste of time will reconsider it. So without further ado, let's rip into it.

3 STRIKES - Do you think that you are a good person? God's standard is His Ten Commandments. Let's try 3.

Right off the bat it is painfully apparent that whoever wrote this has no idea about the English rules of engraving. But I'll refrain from going in that direction. That's like kicking a cripple. Let's give it the benefit of doubt and move on.

1. Thou shalt not lie! In all honesty, can you state that you have never told a lie?

First of all, the Ten Commandments were not written with exclamation points, since doing it that way makes your god look like a petulant child that didn't get his toy. Scream all you want though, because we all know that people lie and they do it routinely. Have I ever lied? Of course I have, and I've done it for great many reasons, but never once have I done so to purposely hurt anyone. It's called having a conscience, and though it may be a novel concept for religious fanatics, most normal people operate on its basis without the aid of dogma.

2. Thou shalt not steal! In all honesty, can you state that you have never stolen anything... at all?

Yes, I could, but then I'd be lying. HAHAHAHAHA! OK, enough of that. Yes, of course I've stolen. When you're a child you do all sorts of stupid things, and in fact I can remember the very first time I stole something. I must have been 5 or 6 years old when I went to a shop with my grandfather. I cannot really remember much detail, but what I do recall is a huge bag of sweets standing on the counter. Yes, I know that this is suddenly sounding cliche, but I swear this actually happened to me. I would not want to lie, now would I? Anyway, as my grandfather went about his business with the shopkeeper I noticed a tear near the bottom of the bag. I recall a great sense of uncertainty and my face flushing with that heat of guilt, but not even those things could stop me from taking one of the sweets. The bag was huge and no one would notice one missing. When I was safely home again, I took the prize out of my pocket ready to savour it, and upon placing it in my mouth, I was treated to one of the most reprehensible flavours man has ever known. It was sweet, but not at all in the way I wanted it to be. I spat it out, disgusted, and threw it away.

3. Thou shalt not commit adultery! Jesus said that whoever looks at a women [sic] with lust has committed adultery in his heart. In all honesty, can you say that you have never even looked... with lust?

Yes, of course I can. In fact, when I look at an attractive woman, I'm only admiring her clothes, how well they fit and how well they match her purse. Sarcasm aside, go grow a brain, seriously. In essence your god is punishing pretty much all of us for the way he himself has made us. Also, if we didn't lust after others, how exactly would we propagate as a species? And what is so wrong with finding people attractive? Who gives a shit what Jesus said? I like it when I look at an attractive woman and she makes my heart beat a little faster and make my nether regions uncomfortable in my underwear. There is nothing wrong with that. I happen to think that it's a beautiful thing that should be celebrated. Yes, I think about having sex with women and if you insert your god into this equation then it's your god you've got to blame for this. Oh yes, and the singular for "women" is "woman". How can you even hope to get converts if you write like that?

Well... if God were to judge you by this standard would you be innocent or guilty? What would be your destiny: HEAVEN OR HELL?

We all know this tactic; it's when someone convinces you that you have a problem in order to sell you the solution. This is no different, but what remains is the fact that lying, stealing and having sex is what people do, they do it every day and none of them will go to hell or heaven. Why? Because they don't exist. First the religion forces you to think you have a problem, then forces you to get the solution that, shock-horror, only THEY can provide, and then if you don't take it, they guilt you by condemning you to an imaginary place of torture.

I would truly like to know why the religiously inclined think that morality based on a system of reward and punishment is in any way better than morality based on simply doing what is the right thing to do by you and the people around you. The way of thinking that "I'll be nice to this lady, because if I won't then Jesus will get mad and won't let me in to heaven" is completely morally bankrupt. There aren't any redeeming features in a morality that is based on a promise of a reward. This sort of thing should only really work on 5-year-old children, and that's only because at that age they simply don't know any better.

To answer the question, though, my destiny is clearly hell, though I'm not all that concerned. I cannot really imagine that this would send any rational person into a frenzied fit of panic whereby they would hastily attempt to communicate with an invisible ghost in order to get prizes after they die. The only reason anyone would believe this is if they were repeatedly dropped on the head as a child.

PAID IN FULL - God Himself satisfied both His justice and His mercy. We broke His law - But, He paid the fine. Jesus died on the cross to satisfy the Law. He has done all that God deemed necessary to be done to ensure complete pardon, acceptance, and salvation. God can forgive us and grant us the gift of everlasting life!

Right, so in essence god sacrificed himself to himself in order to pay an unnecessary price back to himself for a set of rules he himself has made and knew that we would break from the start. Not to even mention that a sacrifice like the one Jesus has purportedly made is completely void given that:

1. he was apparently the son of god which was a human incarnation OF the same god

2. he came back to life, thus making his death void

3. he is now apparently in heaven for the rest of eternity but he sends people to hell for the same length of time

Last, but certainly not least, if god could forgive us then he would just forgive us, without making us jump through all these pointless and illogical hoops. You know, just forgive us, like the way I forgive someone for breaking my heart and causing me pain. I don't send them to eternal torture nor do I make an arbitrary set of rules. I just forgive. Surely, if a man is capable of that, an omnipotent god must be too.

This offer is available to anyone who will REPENT & BELIEVE. If you repent of your sins (change your mind and agree that you have broken God's Law).

Aside from the abhorrent "sentence" structure, a curious part here is the posit that, upon reading this literature, you are likely to "agree that you have broken God's Law". This just isn't convincing. If this is distributed to people who already believe then it's a pointless exercise, whereas if an unbeliever receives this he/she is likely to be very skeptical of the claims made therein, usually just ridiculing them for their superstitious slant and complete lack of any verifiable content. Therefore it is not unreasonable to assume that the people this literature aims to attract are gullible idiots. Now that alone should tell you something about organised religion.

You could trust Jesus Christ today through a simple request something like: "Dear God, today I acknowledge that I have broken your laws, and I put my trust in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Saviour. Please forgive me and grant me the gift of eternal life."

Remember, God sees the heart not just the words.

Yes, that is indeed a very important thing to remember. If there is a god and he sees a person like myself, for instance, what do you think would be the right thing to do given that I truly do not believe in any of your religious tenets nor the existence of your god. But assuming I'm wrong, and god really is looking down at me now, do you think it would be fair and just of him to send me to hell? After all, I'm really not lying when I say that, to me, your religion sounds like a really bad exercise in juvenile wishful thinking and story writing. What I'm essentially asking here is whether you think that the above "prayer" can convince a god who purportedly knows my thoughts and is well aware of the fact that I truly don't believe he exists, even if I did read it and pretended that it was all true. In that way, what is the point of giving this literature to me, or to anyone who isn't already convinced that there is a god somewhere out there in the aether?

Please contact us or better still visit us:

No thanks. At least not until you fix all your grammar, spelling, punctuation and engraving mistakes and replace your bronze-age dogma with something more relevant. I assume that you won't be doing that so I believe our business is done. Thank you, it was fun.

The Extraction

2010-09-10T04:22:00.000-07:00

We all want to fall in love, be loved, and give love to others. Well, perhaps not all of us, but I'd wager that most have felt that pang of hunger for affection and intimacy. I certainly have and, just like many in this category, I have felt the sweet warmth of love as well as the bitter coldness of rejection and betrayal. These are quintessentially human feelings, and unlike fear and anger which we share with other non-human inhabitants of this planet, romantic love is something that certainly separates us from the animals. This is perhaps why it is such a poignant and pure emotion when two souls fall helplessly for one another, and a powerful tool of control when wielded by the insincere and the corrupt. Scammers of all flavours, types and from every imaginable part of the world have exploited the power of love. I'd like to quote Huey Lewis and the News - The Power of Love:

The power of love is a curious thing

Make a one man weep, make another man sing

Change a hawk to a little white dove

More than a feeling that's the power of love

Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream

Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream

Make a bad one good make a wrong one right

Power of love that keeps you home at night

You don't need money, don't take fame

Don't need no credit card to ride this train

It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes

But it might just save your life

That's the power of love

Indeed, and nothing sums up this love-inspired scam quite like that last verse, which is, in fact, the chorus and the main theme of the song. Certainly there is no fame and money required here. As for how the rest fits in, you'll just have to read the correspondence below. Writing to me this time, from Senegal no less, is the lovely "Josephine"... or at least that's what "she" wants us to think "she" is called. Thinly veiled sarcasm aside, knowing exactly what this is about just by looking at the subject line, I step into the shoes of Casanova Extraordinaire - Jacob Landau, who WILL fall in love with Josephine, WILL describe his life to her in intricate detail as per her request, and WILL conspire with enigmatic forces to help her leave behind the refugee camp while he simultaneously fights his own sexual urges and his sense of decency. In any other job Mr. Landau would be fired, but here he is our most prized employee.

Original scam emails in yellow and black, and my replies in plain back and white.

Hello dear,

I wish to show my interest in you for being friendly with you,please i prefer you to contact my private address at so i can able to send you my photo.thanks.

Miss Josephine

Dearest Josephine,

Thank you kindly for writing. How did you find me? What miraculous events have transpired to cross our paths in such a way? What manner of divine intervention took place so that you would write to me, and to me only, and give unto me this most coveted gift of friendship, trust and a promise of a photographic representation of you? I can only thank the gods above for their wisdom in ensuring that this would happen and that that both of our aching hearts would finally find peace. Thank you Josephine, from the bottom of my heart. I do hope to hear from you soon... and, of course, see that photograph which will ensure that I am, indeed, attracted to you and am willing to part with much of my material wealth in order to make you happy. Write back post haste! I am waiting with baited breath.

Yours eternally,

Jacob Landau

My Dearest One,

My heart is full of love after receiving your reply and i hope that you are doing fine .I appreciate you so much for giving me this opportunity to know you and the respect that you have given to me by your response to mine letter in where i have mate you and in everything i thank God so much for this privileged that he has offered to both us in this lovely and Divine meeting.

I am a simple kind of girl who believes in keeping a faithful and long lasting relationship only that i had been hunted me so much by man in the past years and has weaken mine stringent so much ,but i will never ever give up as long as i know that mine life desires is true love.I am honest,sincere,understanding,romantic,full of love and appreciate people with such a reciprocal qualities.I gives much value to education and i love learning new things that would get me exposed to cultural,economical,religious,social and other related factors that exists in living difference.Also i give much values in traveling.I like to cook and mostly baking foods and snacks of good taste just as i have learned from my mother.

My name is Miss Josephine Phillip,I was born on 1st January 1985 and now 25years of age, ft 5/7. wt 59 .I am the only survival child and daughter of Late Patrick Phillip who died during the June/July 2004 civil war explosion in Sudan,been located in central part of Africa..

My late beloved father was the personal adviser in commerce and industrial developments to our formal Head of state ,My late father is the owner of Macro Ventures before he was assassinated on that sad cold blood morning along side with my mother .when i have left for school and was in school when the sad shocking news came to me unbelievable.I managed to escape for my dear life and ran into a country, called (Senegal) presently am in the commercial city of Dakar as a result of this misfortune, residing in girl's hostel here as a refugee in the refugee camp.

At presently ,i am writing this letter to you now with the aid of the computer machine in Reverend father's office who is in charge of our camp.

I would like to know you better on what you do,your likes and your dislikes,hobbies and what you do for a leaven.Always bear i mind that i have no double minded in our relationship,because of how you attracted me and caught mine attention to have express interest on you on that site where i previously wrote to you.Here is one of my picture which i came in here with,and i would be free to give you more only when i have fully known you better and in your next reply.

I am very much grateful to you and would be glad that we try to keep this fire burning till we arrive to meet each other face to face without considering the distance and age differences in condition and situation that might exist between us but with love ,care and understanding,this dream must come to a reality.

I miss you so much and with much impatient waiting to receive your next reply soonest.

Yours only favorite,

Josephine

My dearest Josephine,

I am doing well indeed and I hope the same for you. Oh what a torturous tale you've weaved before me. As I read it, imagining your beautiful face amidst a bed of spring tulips and fragrant carnations, I was aghast by the sudden violence, the gun fire, the smoke, blood and gory guts flying everywhere as the war broke out right there in my mind. I can see it vividly, your parents are blown to pieces; first shot at by the militia, then landing atop a field mine that explodes next to a car rigged with a bomb standing outside the fireworks shop. Suddenly a flurry of various body parts is shot up into the air. Your mother is weak, frail and beautiful, but your father, a tough and resolute man that he is has the last laugh. Even though the mine dismembered him entirely, during the last fraction of a second before triggering the explosive, he clenches his fist, and his arm, now free of the rest of his body, propelled by the massive explosion, flies across the chaos-riddled street, through the skull of the militia's Brigadier General, straight into the fortification where it collides with a drum of nitroglycerin. This is what earned your father, the late Patrick Phillip, the name "Panzerfaust". Even now when you mention his name, people bow their heads and offer a moment's silence to the man who, even after death, single-handedly defeated an entire enemy platoon. I offer your father and your mother my most heartfelt respect, my dear Josephine.

But, onto brighter and happier things! Let's talk about how much I love you and how utterly gorgeous you are.

Thank you for sending me your pictographs, otherwise known a "cumulative dot charts" in my country, or CDCs for short. When the pictographs are in colour, like the ones you sent, in my country we call them "aggregated chromatic point parallelograms", or ACPPs for short. When they are in colour and contain a pictographic representation of an utterly gorgeous woman, like the ones I got from you, we call them "non-reinforced pulse-processed Fawkner plots", or NRPPFPs, named after Professor Fawkner who was the first person in my country to mathematically describe an attractive woman in terms of a function of 'x'. Believe it or not, my dear Josephine, but solving his set of field equations allows you to perform what is known as "Fawkner Analysis" which can tell you whether the woman is the pictograph is attractive or not. It is absolutely amazing and it always works! Professor Fawkner was awarded the Nobel Prize in mathematics back in 2007 for this very achievement and he is currently our national hero.

Anyway, back to how incredibly attractive you are. You are SO attractive, and I find you SO desirable that I have printed out your non-reinforced pulse-processed Fawkner plots and have glued them onto my desk... with glue! In my country nothing spells "respect" and "love" like gluing something to something else. For example, the other day someone glued an ironing board to the front door of my neighbour's house. He was rapt! Later it turned out that it was this pretty girl that he saw on the bus on his way to work, who just happens to work in aggregated chromatic point parallelogram industry. He asked her out straight away and during their dinner date, he glued her to the chair. Can you imagine? On the first date! Now THAT is love.

You've asked me to tell you what I do and my likes and dislikes. Well, I work as a forest animal impersonator. I've started in this job about 5 years ago and now I am able to imitate over 300 different species. This is actually a very important and sought-after job in my country. Forest animal impersonators are really well paid here and I must say that I'm doing quite alright. My hobbies are quite varied; I like pouring water, speaking backwards and standing really, really still. In fact, the standing still thing I'm doing because I'm preparing for the national championship. You see, standing still is the national sport in my country and I have managed to advance into Category D in the provincial heats. I guess I'm not very good at it, but I try very hard and that's what matters. One guy tried to cheat in the last heat by gluing himself to the floor, but the judges found out and posted his cumulative dot charts on the internet to shame him. Funny story.

Oh, how I wish you were here, Josephine. We could do all sorts of stuff together, and fall madly in love, and we'd lie on the fresh, green grass under the stars and sing songs and be happy. Please reply as soon as you can, and tell me more about how I can be with you. I'll do whatever it takes, even if I have to glue a cat to the ambassador's head.

Yours forever,

Jacob Landau

My Dearest Beloved,

Thank you so much for this great opportunity you have given me once again.How are you doing,your health and also the situation of things over there.To God be the glory for bring us together in one heart and one love.

Hope you are fine. thanks for your reply.I thank God for you.Your message was a bit relief for me. May God protect you for me. In this camp,we are only allowed to go out from the camp only on Mondays and Fridays of the weeks.Its just like one staying in the prison, I hope by God's grace with your help i will come out here soon. i don't have any relatives now whom i can go to. all my relatives ran away in the middle of the war.

The only person i have now is Rev. Gabriel Odontu who is the Reverend Minister in charge of the church in this camp (UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST). He has been very nice to me since I came here but I am not living with him rather I am living in the women's hostel. because the camp have two hostels one for men the other for women. The Pastors Tel number is(+221 763 490 292),Our camp address is NO 39 Zingour Dakar Senegal, Feel free to call me through his number and if you want to contact the Rev his e-mail address is(rev.gabrielodontu@yahoo.com).

So If you call tell him that you want to speak with me he will send for me in the hostel.

As a refugee here I don't have any right or privilege to any thing be it money or whatever because it is against the law of this country.I want to go back to my studies because I only attended my first year before the tragic incident that lead to my being in this situation now took place.

Remember I am giving you all this information due to the trust I have found on you.I like honest, understanding and God fearing people,truthful and a man of vision, and hardworking. Meanwhile I will like you to call me like I said i have a lot to tell you.

Have a nice day and think about me always for i am real for you forever.

Awaiting to hear from you soonest

Thanks and remain blessed

Yours in love

Josephine.

My one and only love, Josephine,

Today is our three day anniversary... three days have gone by since that most perfect of moments when I laid eyes upon you and fell in love so completely, truly and passionately. Well, I must admit that I did not see you straight away and even when I did it was only in pictographic form, but still, my imagination is more than capable of forming the most delectable and desirable woman in my mind. Glory be to whichever god decided to spare me further torment by not corresponding long-distance with someone as beautiful and graceful as you.

Unfortunately I cannot call you straight away as my telephone was stolen last night. It happened right after I broke a mirror underneath a ladder in my corridor when I slipped on a banana peel. The good news is that I'm fine, but my black cat, which was then walking across got really scared, jumped up onto the kitchen table and spilled the salt. Anyway, everything is OK now. The police caught the robber a few blocks away from my house but they have to keep the phone for a few days as evidence. People, are weird, don't you think?

So, I though that since I've known you so intimately for so very long now, I could ask you something. Since you are in a camp and have nothing to do most of the time, I thought that you might like to send me a few pictures of you naked. I know, I know... it's not like the real thing, but it may be a few weeks before I get to see you and I would really like to savour some of that exquisite feminine beauty of yours. Let me know if that is something that you are able to do. Perhaps the good Reverend can operate the camera while you pose? I've heard priests are good with that sort of thing. Also send me a few photographs of your face against a white background, portrait-like. I have an idea on how to get you out of that camp, but it will require some counterfeit documents which I am prepared to manufacture.

Another friend of mine is currently in Senegal on a "business" trip and I spoke to him last night and told him your story. He started crying, so I said that it's OK and that you're fine and that I've known you for a really long time and I know that you're tough. I also told him how much I love you and he started crying again, and said that he never heard a story so romantic and beautiful and that he was going to write a beautiful poem about it right after he sells the remaining three slaves from the back of his truck. He's a great friend. He also offered to break into your camp and get you out so that you and I can get married and have at least four children. I'd love to have children with a woman like you. I'm pretty sure I could satisfy you sexually, and you'd be a great mother and wife. I would even allow you to go out of our house, say, once or twice a week. We would be the most perfect couple in the world.

I believe I am an honest, understanding, truthful and hard-working man of vision. Yes, that sums me up perfectly. I have a few weaknesses and faults though, which I thought I should share with you before we consummate this most glorious relationship. I never want to lie to you so I'll be very honest and forthcoming here. One of my weaknesses was discovered early on in my childhood when it became apparent that I can hear voices from the netherworld. Sometimes I wake up screaming in the middle of the night and run outside to follow the instructions I've received in my dream... from the netherworld. They often want me to do very ordinary and practical things, like locking doors, buying groceries, paying bills on time... that sort of thing. Tell me about your faults and shortcomings, Josephine. I'm really interested.

Anyway, I'd love to write more, but I just got a message from the netherworld telling me that I have to catch my neighbour's cat and feed it to my cat. I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but I better go and do it.

I love you with all my heart, Josephine. Please send me more pictures, preferably the ones I asked for, and I'll make sure that, even though you're not here, at least the pictures will be properly loved.

Your most committed, loving and resourceful future husband,

Jacob Landau

PS. I thought that I might as well begin preparations for our wedding and the wedding night when I hope to make love to you for at least 6 hours straight. I will book the church and the reception area behind the shed. It will be great!

Dear Darling,

Thanks so much for your long letter and i found some amazing words there and i thought we are here for a serious and sound correspondent, so please we need to minimize some speeches and some ignorant words that will yield no result at all.

For my side here in the camp i need your help and assistant to go out from this camp, yes i thank God that you know that it will involve some papers before the dream, so please that is the area i want us to focus on how to get those papers here as the camp is asking to get them here in the camp.

Please i will like to know from you if you will be able to help me to come over there in your country for further initiation with you to remain permanently.

Thanks and i wait to hear from you.

Yours Lover,

Josephine.

My dearest, most heavenly and intoxicatingly beautiful Josephine,

I was deliriously happy having received a reply from you. I do, however, wonder what amazing words you're referring to. I've gone over my letter and have found nothing amazing in it, with the exception of, perhaps, my supernatural ability of hearing voices from beyond the grave. Please clarify.

I was saddened to see no pictures of you included with your email and no answers to the many questions I have asked you. It feels like you're not reading my emails at all. Do you even love me? Or have you found somebody else? I have done everything in my power so far to make you happy. I've organised everything and I want to be with you so much that it's tearing me apart.

I do want to help you, and to that end I have organised an entire plan of action. So please listen because this is important. My friend and I have organised to get you out of that camp and we need you to follow these instructions. Below is an email from my friend so please read it and remember it thoroughly, Josephine.

Jacob,

I will be arriving in Dakar late tomorrow evening local time time. Coming with me is a team of 8 operatives who have served under me in Libya 1998. They're good men, ex-SAS, so they know how to get the job done. We will set up base outside the city limits and case the camp for 4 days. On Tuesday the 14th at 0500 hours sharp we will strike with brutal force to take the camp security down, breech the perimeter and extract Josephine. All other personnel is considered expendable. Josephine's call-sign will be "angel". Make sure she knows all this so that she can hide in order to avoid any stray fire. I will find her by verifying the call-sign and take her to safety. Everything will be done under the cover of gunfire, VX nerve gas and several hostages which will also be taken from the camp and kept as insurance until we reach the landing zone approximately 60 kilometers north-east of Dakar in the town of Mboro. That is the closest safe landing zone in the area so tell Josephine to prepare for a bit of a drive. We will have water and food so she doesn't need to take anything with her. Don't worry, we've done this before. By 0730 hours it will all be over. I need to go and pack equipment, but will write again to confirm. I hope you're well.

Vincent

So that's the good news. Are you as happy as I am, Josephine? We will finally be together! Make sure that you study that email from Vincent carefully and that you're ready on Tuesday morning. And make sure that you don't tell anyone about this... not even the Reverend. We cannot afford to let anyone know about this; it could compromise the mission! If you want, I will organise things with Vincent so that the Reverend is not hurt. Everything will be OK. On Tuesday you will finally be free and I'll be able to hold you in my arms.

I love you, Josephine. Don't ever forget that.

Your own personal saviour,

Jacob Landau

A Manner Of Proposal

2010-08-29T21:33:00.000-07:00

Yes, it happened again! Another brave soul ventured into my manic world to try their luck at relieving me of my money, of which there is very little, I might add. However, I cannot blame the brave Nigerian men for not knowing this. After all, with such a convincing set of completely unbelievable arguments it's easy to get confused. Sometimes I even confuse myself and really start believing in the alter persona that is Jacob Landau, who likewise, bravely dives into the abyss once again to try and unravel the intricate fabric of the email scam and, failing that as he often does, simply run with it, see where it leads and how long it will last. Truly, partaking in an email scam in such a way is like dating a beautiful woman who you know could do much better than you, but simply doesn't know it yet and is simply enamored with your witty repartee and the fact that your party trick was better than someone else's. Life really is just like that; an endless set of variations on one ancient theme.

But let's cut the philosophy and get into it. This time the esteemed Michael Williams who has a "proposal" for me decided to validate his identity with a really bad and fake-looking passport scan and in turn ask me to provide my official documents. Of course, I had to play along. Here we go.

--- original scam emails in blue and white and my replies in plain back and white ---

My name is Michael Williams from Nigeria,I have a proposal for you.Just get back for full details with some of your information like your Age,your full name,occupation,Address,Phone Number and other information.You can call me on this my number +2348083049055

---

Dear Michael Williams from Nigeria,

Thank you for writing. I did not expect to hear from you so soon. However, I am glad that you are alive and well and that you have this mysterious proposal for me. Some friends have told me that people who email you from Nigeria are thieves and should not be trusted, but then again those same people never tell you that they're from Nigeria, do they? I can then only assume that you told me that because you're an honest, exemplary, trustworthy, model citizen who, as it happens, has a proposal for me. There was one man a few weeks back, who emailed me from the Benin Republic and was babbling about some attorney general rubbish that I could not understand. He also had a proposal, but his proposal involved me handing over my life savings to some guy over at Burkina Faso and though I know you guys have it tough over there, I cannot really do that, you see.

So, I figure that this mysterious proposal of yours is one of a few things. It could be:

1. a business proposal
2. a marriage proposal
3. an indecent proposal

Those are the three I have come up with because those are the only three I'd be willing to entertain, especially since you're just some anonymous man from Nigeria. Granted, you're a man so the eventuality of marriage may not seem all that appealing, but try to keep an open mind, Michael, like I do. After all, how do you know it's bad if you've never tried it? Anyway, since you've asked so kindly, here are all my personal details, including some stuff you may not want to know.

Full name: Jacob Landau
Age: 27
Occupation: Second unit stunt driver
Address: 11 Reformation Drive
Faunhoffer Rebus
3E2 11W, Dufoil City
Luxembourg

Phone number: +45 041 2421 1600 52 [ext. 025]

-Other information-
Penis size: Extra small
Number of sexual partners: Currently only myself
Favourite position: Left
Nudity: YES
Open to suggestion: YES
DFEX Coagulant Factor: NEGATIVE
USMC Training: Pending
Marble Walking: Proficient [87% success]
Joey's Discount Supermart Customer Number: 004026612

---

Dear Jacob Landau,

Why do you sent me the size of your Penis,this is not a joke.My name is Engineer Michael Williams.I'm the chairman of members of the special committee for budget and planning of the Ministry of Petroleum Nigeria. This committee is principally concerned with contract appraisals and approval of contracts in order of priorities as regards CAPITAL PROJECTS of the Federal Government of Nigeria. With my position.I have successfully secured for myself the sum of Twenty-one Million,Five Hundred Thousand United States Dollars(US$21.5M).We are working with the present Democratically elected Government in my country,So they have given directive to all Federal Parastatals to settle all Foreign Contractors being owed for contract that they have done. Therefore, My plan is to include your name as one of the contractors being owed in our corporation.Government Officials in my country are not allowed by our laws to Operate Foreign Accounts. What i wanted from you is to help me provide a foreign account which the money can be transferred to.It has been agreed that you will be compensated with US$7.3 Million of the remitted funds,USD$14.2 Million will belongs to me

The money is with one security company here but the security company where the money were kept said that they can't be in position to transfer the money to you in your account in your country due to Number 7 of section B of 1994 Economic and financial crime commission law ,they said they will send a diplomat who will bring the money cash to you in Spain where they have the logistics and connections to be able to ferry this fund through the airports to you. The Chief Security Officer of the security Company told me that they will disguise the money so that the diplomat can be able to travel with the money because they don't have the logistics to land in your country with their chartered jet.Do you see the reason why the diplomat can not come to your country to deliver the consignment to you

Are you willing to come to Spain for the handover of the consignment since your country is in Europe? If YES please get back to me so that i will arrange with the security company to know when the Diplomat will be leaving from Nigeria to Spain? Another thing is Will you be able to do any expenses when the Diplomat get to Spain like paying for the clearance of the consignment in the Airport? I need your answer before we can proceed.I have been spending money here for cargo authorization and for other clearance to enable the consignment move well,I have already spend $45,000 USD dollars.If you know that you can not do this transaction with me please tell me in time,business is not by force

Once the Diplomat successfully had the fund transferred to you in Spain ,I shall come over to your country for the disbursement of the fund.Also  i will like to invest part of my share in your country.You will be able to advise me on what aspect is most reasonable to invest,I will like to invest in REAL ESTATE.Anyway,we will discuss further on this issue when we meet face to face.What I needed exactly is what you have to execute the prospect and vision i anticipated, and that is the will to perform this operation, really judging from a lay`s man view, you may not see exactly or logically  how I will be able to ferry this fund through the Spain airports to you in cash for the purpose of carrying out investment in your country under your direction and supervision.

I bet you, I have good logistics and connections to do this, which i will try to explain in the plainest language as much as i can as follows:-

I have diplomatic logistics to bring it via a chartered jet to Spain international airport as diplomatic cargo. My country`s embassy contact will remove it from the airport as special embassy cargo without passing through routine security checks. The embassy acting on this special arrangement will further cooperate with you on my instructions to deposit fund in cargo/cash on the location you desire in Spain.If we are in agreements, let me know your stance and I will inform you when the fund will leave and when it will arrive Spain.

Diplomat is immune from arrest and detention or seizure by any police officials in the world.Besides the Diplomat have all necessary legal documents that can be used to back up any claim you may make.I guarantee that this transaction has been executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach of the law. All the documents shall given to you by the Diplomat during the handover. I now demand that you send me your personal informations, below

1-your full names, 2-your country and address, 3-phone numbers, 4-fax number, 5-your age and Sex, 6-marital status, 7-Occupation, 8-Your Identification {either your International passport or Driver's license}

Attached here with this email,is my International passport for recognition and assurance.

Best Regards,
Michael Williams
+234 808 304 9055

---

Dear Engineer Michael Williams from Nigeria,

I apologise sincerely for sending you the size of my penis. I do hope that you are not insulted and that we may continue with this business transaction. The reason I sent you that information was because last time a man from Nigeria wrote to me, he asked for a photograph of my penis with a US dollar bill next to it for scale. He promised me a lot of money for a good photo but after sending him the picture, I never heard from him again. So this time I decided to play it safe and just give you an idea of the size before sending the picture. If you're interested, I have all sorts of currency that I can photograph next to my penis, it's really not a problem. I might even have some Nigerian Naira, just to make it a bit more patriotic for you. Let me know how you'd like it.

Thanks for including a scan of your Passport, Engineer Michael Williams from Nigeria. You sure are a good looking man. Also, it makes me feel so much better knowing that you've been chosen by god who has guided you to choose me. Surely, all this money that you want to give me will make a lot of things easier, like some of the projects I have planned for the near future. Believe it or not, I need to transport several people across Europe, mostly women and children, to various places where they may be sold to the highest bidder. Some people call this a crime, but I'm just trying to make an honest living. Knowing that god is behind me on this reassures me greatly.

Here are the details you've requested. I know you've asked me that before but I didn't know if I could trust you, so I intentionally made a few mistakes the first time around that have now been corrected. So here are the correct details:

Full name: Jacob Landau
Occupation: Assistant Sideshow Director for Cirque del Monde
Address: 7/376 Deffontum Terrace
42-0021 West Plastim
Belgium

Phone number: +49 21 5657 0188
Fax number: I threw my fax machine away. It was a piece of shit!
Age: 27
Sex: Slow, sensual and very, very wet.
Marital status: Approved.
Identification: Included copy of marriage certificate.

You've asked: "Are you willing to come to Spain for the handover of the consignment since your country is in Europe?"

The answer is a big resounding YES! I can come TO Spain and while I'm there, I thought I might as well come IN Spain... if you know what I mean [wink, wink]. It just so happens that I also have some unfinished business to do in Barcelona; a couple of my henchmen have gone rogue and unfortunately I need to hunt them down and get rid of them. After that I'll be delighted to meet your diplomat. I have a question for you, Michael: after I'm done with the diplomat, do you want me to kill him or let him go? I propose we kill him and get rid of the body in case something goes wrong and he tries to get away with the money. You choose.

You've also asked: "Will you be able to do any expenses when the Diplomat get to Spain like paying for the clearance of the consignment in the Airport?"

Absolutely! Of course I'll pay. How much is it? I don't usually carry a lot of cash on me, but I should be alright if the price isn't too high. I always come armed to all transactions so that nothing goes wrong, and if it does then I always win. Do I meet you at the airport? Will we be taking hostages to ensure the transfer of our money goes through? Let me know.

Kindest regards,
Jacob Landau

TRANSLATION FROM FRENCH:

Jacob Landau, a notorious people smuggler born on the 7th of Autumn at the little village of Plom, son of Luc-Philippe Landau, a forest animal impersonator and Nadia Plasko, a secret government operative.

[getting married to]

Sandra Medine, an alien abductee, born on the 13th of Summer at the Presidium Megapolis, daughter of Francois Medine, a holocaust revisionist and Amelie Lumiere-Laoncomp, an underwear model.

Witnessed by Nicole Marie Gaupt of the North Atlantic Figure Skater's Association on the 24th spring mattress 2008.

---

Dear Jacob Landau,

The said the cost of clearing the consignment from the Spain will cost not less than 7,000 Euros.Now tell me the day you want the Diplomat to arrive Spain so that we can arrange for his traveling.I tried to call you from this my side but it was not going through please call me on this number +2348083049055 now

They said they don't need your marriage certificate,that what they need from you is a copy of your international passport or Driver's license

---

Dear Distinguished Engineer Michael Williams from Nigeria,

I'm sorry about the late reply but I had some business I had to take care of, you know, bodies wrapped in carpets, a few firearms which I had to remove serial numbers from... that sort of stuff. Nothing interesting. When I started in this business, I really loved my job. I could travel, meet women, have sex every night, drink expensive wine and kill anyone I didn't agree with. It was great! But things have changed since then. Now there are all sorts of morals and ethics and all that kind of garbage, and it makes things really difficult. Like last night I got a call from my men in China who were wondering whether the hit I ordered on the French Ambassador's son was absolutely necessary. Necessary? Of course it's necessary! I've ordered it after all... but nooooo! These twits have to grow brains. So I had to have them killed too. Man, what a waste of time. I could have been playing poker on a hot hooker's ass. What's happening with you?

It's so nice to think that you wanted to call me. It's almost like you care, like you want this cold business transaction to be more than just business; like you want to get closer to me and learn about the person that I am, about my most intimate desires. Is it true, or is it just wishful thinking? Please tell me.

Anyway, I'm sorry that my marriage certificate wasn't good enough. What sort of information do you need??? I've told you everything! Ok, I will send you a copy of my driver's license, but if this isn't good enough then I don't know what else to do.

Yeah, your call isn't going through because the number I gave you has got a mistake in it. I'm sorry I must have mistyped it. It's not every day that I get asked for my phone number. Here in Belgium the government is phasing out telephones in favour of these new telepathic telecommunication devices. They're cool, I guess, but internet access on them is REALLY slow. Do you have that problem over in Nigeria? I hope you don't because it's a pain in the ass. Anyway, my correct phone number is +49 21 8894 6481. So get back to me as soon as you can.

Ok, so the price is 7,000 euro? That's alright. Fantastic! Believe it or not but I had exactly that much underneath a table leg in my dining room. The table was wobbly, you see. Actually it was 7,231 euro but the remaining 231 euro I've used to start a fire in my obnoxiously big fire place last night. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right? I certainly wasn't in the boy scouts so what the hell do I know about setting things on fire? Anyway, tell that diplomat that he can come whenever he wants to. I'll be in Barcelona for a week from Wednesday so its up to him.

Your best friend,
Jacob Landau

---

OK i tried to call you again and it was the number doesn't exist why? OK call me on my +2348083049055

---

My dearest, most venerated and holy Engineer Michael Williams from Nigeria,

That's weird. I have checked my number and it is most definitely correct. I've even tried it and called myself, and then spent about half an hour explaining to myself why I called and that I didn't do it to annoy me. Then I told myself about you and how I'm really trying to do this business deal and then we got into an argument, and then I had to hang up. Then I called back and told myself that I'm sorry about taking my frustrations out on me and that I really love me and I sometimes get mad only because I care so very much. Relationships are difficult, you see.

So after that I've tried calling you, so I dialed the number and some man picked up on the other side and told me that he didn't know who I was and that I should stop calling because they're trying to run a business there. So I explained to him who I was and that I've given you my marriage certificate and my driver's license so he told me that Michael Williams is out building a bridge, because that's what engineers do. He also told me that I can speak to your daughter or your mother if I want to, he asked me to choose. I picked your mother, but he said that Michael's mother has gone to the fruit market, so then I picked your daughter and the man asked which one, and I obviously had to pick the prettiest one, so I did. But the man said that you don't really have any pretty daughters because you actually don't have any daughters at all. It was strange. Who is this guy?

I'm leaving for Barcelona tomorrow. Tell your diplomatic agent that I'll meet him at the central train station in the locker room next to the clock. I'll be wearing a black fedora and a pink carnation in my breast pocket. My challenge will be "foxtrot" and his riposte is "may I have this dance".

I want two suitcases, black, unmarked with large non-sequential bills. Can you remember all that?

Your greatest business partner,
Jacob Landau

All the Necessary Instructions

2010-08-24T00:36:00.000-07:00

It seems like wherever I turn and whatever I do, I'm a winner. I just cannot stop winning. Every week there is a large sum of money waiting for me in some non-descript account. I may very well be the richest man on Earth right now. Unfortunately getting all this money is not as easy as going to the ATM and making a withdrawal. But worry not, because the benefactors responsible for informing me about these stashes of cash are always more than willing to provide me with all the instructions necessary to ensure that at some stage in the future, after I meet an ambassador in the Benin Republic and pay him a safety deposit, the money will be mine! What more proof would anyone need? But this week it's a lottery! And guess what? I WON! And I didn't even enter. Now THAT'S what I call luck. Anyway, here it is, my winning ticket that I never purchased, for all to see. They told me not to share this information with anyone lest it be rendered invalid, but I'm feeling lucky so I'll take that chance.

---[original scam email]

Swiss-Lotto Netherlands

Palistrinalaan 44, 8011vn,

Zwolle Netherlands

https://www.swisslotto.ch

https:// www.rdwang.com

!!!CONGRATULATION YOU ARE A WINNER!!!

The Board of Directors, members of staff and the International Promotion Department of the SWISS-LOTTO Satellite lottery, Netherlands, wishes to congratulate you on your success as the STAR PRIZE WINNER in this years SWISS-LOTTO Satellite lottery Netherlands International Promotion (SLP) .The late notice was due to mix up email addresses, no tickets were sold, and you were randomly selected as a winner.

This comes with a prize of Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Euro (Ђ750,000) Euros in the SWISS-LOTTO Satellite Software email lottery in which e-mail addresses are picked randomly by Software powered by the Internet through the worldwide website.

Your email address was amongst those chosen this year for the SWISS-LOTTO Satellite lottery. And this promotion is proudly sponsored by the SWISS-LOTTO NETHERLANDS organization. The selection process was carried out through random selection in our Computerized Email Selection System (C.E.S.S.) from a database of over a million email addresses from the World Wide Web. Each email address was attached to a ticket number and your email address with ticket number: KY/098/HG/7BN was randomly selected as the star prize winner amongst other consolation prize winners.

Your email address, attached to Ref number 18, 43, 5, 7, 14, 17 with Serial number SLN/2378-32 drew the lucky Numbers 56, and consequently won the lottery in the “A” Category. You have therefore been approved for a lump sum pay out of Ђ750,000 Euros. (Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Euros).

Please note that youre lucky winning number falls within our European Booklet representative office in Europe as indicated in your play coupon. In View of this, your Ђ750,000 Euros will be released to you by our accredited claims agent located in Europe. Our European agent will immediately commence the process to facilitate the release of your winning funds as soon as you contact them.

To file for your claim, kindly fill the verification form below and send it to the accredited Claims Manager, Mr. Luis Johnson of the claims department through email, stating your receipt of this notification. He has been mandated to offer you assistance and facilitate the urgent delivery of your prizes.

Provide our/your accredited claims agent with the information as stated below:

Mr. Luis Johnson

Tel: +31619705470

Fax: +31847597673

Email: swisslotonl@rdwang.com

Verification Form:

1. Full Name:

2. Age:

3. Sex:

4. Marital Status:

5. Address:

6. Draw Number Above:

7. Occupation:

8. Country of Resident:

9. Nationality:

10. Phone:

11. Fax Number:

Thanks for been part of this promotional award programm.We wish you the best of lucky as you spend your good fortune.

Sincerely,

Hans William

Swiss-Lotto Netherlands

Palistrinalaan 44, 8011vn,

Zwolle Netherlands

https://www.swisslotto.ch

N.B: Keep all Lotto winning information from public notice in order to avoid double claims, as any breach of confidentiality on the part of the winners will result to disqualification.

Private Memo SwissLotto Promotional Winning Notification

---[my reply]

Good day Mr. Luis Johnson,

Thank you for making me win this competition that I have never entered and letting me know of this fantastic turn of events! I am so happy that I have won! You probably would not know it, but I'm in dire straits right now and this money could sure be of use. The first thing I'd like to buy is a massive cigar so that I may celebrate this win in style. Then I think I'll buy a gun... to kill all my enemies so that they don't spoil my new Rockefeller lifestyle. After I kill all the people I don't like, I'll have to bribe the police so that they discontinue any investigation in regards to my "crimes". Well, either that or I'll just kill them too. What are your thoughts? Anyway, here are the details you've requested.

1. Full Name: Jeremiah Patrik Luzon

2. Age: 24

3. Sex: Only on Saturdays

4. Marital Status: Undetermined

5. Address: 133 Udevalla Street, Komkolzgrad 221:220, Mother Russia

6. Draw Number Above: PX-14220-WTF-0404-Alpha-Charlie

7. Occupation: Full-time Thief

8. Country of Resident: Finland

9. Nationality: Yes

10. Phone: +323 99 71441 862

11. Fax Number: Not applicable. It's the 21st century!

Thanks for being a part of this historic win that I have experienced. You are invited to my celebratory party next week, which I've already organised.

Today's lucky winner,
Jacob Landau [also known as Franko Koolsocks]

The Inheritance

2010-08-24T00:22:00.000-07:00

Jacob Landau is back, and he's bigger than ever! I have fully embraced my new, fake alter ego and have taken it upon myself to subject it to the many colorful machinations that the scammers from all over the world put in place. In fact, the scammers have been very active in the past few days... and the following email is but the pathetic tip of that iceberg. It's curious that the scammers are now asking to be contacted via a Chinese webmail provider. Could the balance of power have shifted over to china, or is it more probable that our usual suspects have exhausted their fake account quota for hotmail, gmail and yahoo? Nobody knows, and quite honestly nobody cares either. But it seems that I have had a large sum of money transferred to me [again] through Western Union [again]. Of course we could take the easy way out and be cynical, or we can wholeheartedly embrace this opportunity and see what comes of it. After all, how can we ever know if it's fake if we never reply? Plus I always believed that if someone took the time to write to you then it's only proper to reply. So here we go.

---[original scam email]

From: Jim Knight

Subject: $350,000.00 USD LODGE IN YOUR NAME

WESTERN UNION MONEY TRANSFER ORDER : AVAILABLE FOR PICKUP $350,000.00 USD LODGE IN YOUR NAME. CONTACT: w.unionhelpdesk05@w.cn

---[my response]

Dear Jim Knight,

Oh my god! OH MY GOD! This is incredible! Where did this money come from? Is it inheritance from an uncle I never knew who died on a dangerous archaeological mission in Egypt? A dowry from a wealthy Maharajah wanting me to wed his beautiful daughter? Or perhaps hush money from a secret society responsible for covering up some sort of government conspiracy? Whatever it is, I WANT IT! I'll accept the inheritance, I'll marry the beautiful Indian girl and I'll never speak about aliens ever again! I swear! I've already started compiling a list of things I will buy for my gorgeous Indian bride-to-be. She will be the happiest woman in the world, because we all know that it's material things that make women happy, right? Am I right? Tell me I'm right! Please, whatever you do, don't tell me that I'm wrong. I want to be right.

Your best friend,
Jacob Landau

Please do not reply!

2010-08-05T20:38:00.000-07:00

We're all familiar with the money transfer scam and the romance scam. After all, it is almost like an internet rite of passage to get your first scam email and NOT to fall for it. Many of you will say that it's easy not to get scammed and with that I will vehemently agree, but let's remember that this is the internet, and if these scams DIDN'T work, they would not be in circulation. This is why it is safe to assume that there are those out there who still fall for them. Some of these people simply don't know any better and have big hearts that open to anyone in distress. Others are simply dense. Either way, the scams keep on making the rounds. This following scam is not of an unusual variety and because of its non-narrative nature I usually ignore it, bar going to the fake website and entering bogus details for the scammers to be disappointed with. Yes, it's a phishing scam, and for all those uninitiated, a phishing scam relies usually on a fake web page/site that mimics a page/site of an institution [like a bank, for instance] and gets people to enter their personal information under the guise of some lie. In this case the lie is a purported message that is apparently waiting for me at my "ANZ Secure Messages Center". So the scene is set, and no, I'm not an ANZ customer.

--- [original phishing email, all formatting and linking preserved. WARNING! The link leads to the original phishing page, a fake ANZ Bank page. Enter at your own risk and ONLY if you know what you're doing. I take no responsibility for stupidity.]

Subject: ANZ Bank Alart ! Dear Customer Update Your Account
From: www-data@wizard.imaginet.co.za

This is to inform you that your ANZ Bank Secure Messages Center has
1 new message.

To access your ANZ Internet Banking personalized Secure Messages Center, click on the image below:

Account Reference: (0x3d.0x38.0x4e.0xcf)

Please do not reply to this email. This mailbox is not monitored and you will not receive a response. For assistence, log in to your ANZ Internet account and click the Help link located in the top right corner of any ANZ Internet page. This email (including any attachments) is intended for the above-mentioned person(s). If you are not the intended recipient of this email, please delete this email immediately. It is private and confidential and may contain legally privileged information.

--- [my reply to the phisher]

Dear email scammer,

Thank you for selecting me for the role of "moronic sucker" in the Asia Pacific arm of your bank detail phishing operation. Unfortunately the poor quality of your lame attempt at getting information from me didn't work [hint: it never does], but worry not, because with practice, perseverance and maybe just a little bit of luck, you can turn these abominable failures into fruitful victories!

"But how?!?" - you yell with all your might while your request drowns in the noise of a hundred cattle crossing the empty village intersection.

It's EASY! And to make it even simpler for a beginner like you, I have broken this up into 5 steps for you to follow.

1. Learn English! - When the opening [subject] line in an email from a purported bank contains a spelling mistake in a word as simple as "alert" [yes, that's the proper spelling, so write it down] and numerous punctuation errors, one can already see the patterns emerge, even before the email itself does. So my advice to you is to get yourself an Oxford unabridged dictionary and read it, from one cover to the other. I suppose that is probably why you've chosen this line of work; it doesn't require any real effort.

2. Use your imagination! - It is quite possible that given your "trade", imagination is not a part of your strongest suit, but nothing good ever comes without practice and some self-imposed discipline. So please, even though you will never scam me, you might as well make it entertaining and imaginative. You know that thing on top of your neck? It's called a head and it usually comes fitted with this thing called a brain. If you've missed out on yours then perhaps there are still a few left over at the repository.

"Hey! You said that there would be five steps, and all I see are two!" - you assert with an air of surprise while standing in an empty field with an annoying insect circling your head, easily avoiding your feeble attempts at capture.

Ha! You didn't seriously think that I would do all the work for you? Look at it this way: you're obviously not Nobel Prize material, and even when you've attempted something as simple, base and dishonest as stealing from people, you failed at that too. I have no pity for you, because if you came to me and asked me for money so that you can buy yourself a loaf of bread, I'd give it to you. Instead you do this. Tell me, how does it feel to be an idiot?

Limited Liability

2010-07-29T19:06:00.000-07:00

It pains me to see that the email scammers of wherever are just not putting in the effort that they once did. The email I got, once again informing me of some massive cash prize up for my discreet collection, was painfully unalluring, unimaginative and poorly executed. The only reason I can think of as to why this sort of "scam" would still be in circulation is that it probably works, and that is even more depressing than the email itself. However, there is one thing we can do, and that is to stop complaining and lead by example, which is why I have decided to show the scammers how this is supposed to be done by replying to their offer with an offer of my own. So, we'll start with the original scam email, as always, followed by my reply. I hope we all learn something here, and if not then let's at least have some fun.

--- [original scam email]

Your Email ID Has Been Given 1,000,000,00 GBP In Our British Tobacco Promo.

1.Full Name:2.Full Address:3.Status:4.Occupation:5.Phone Number:6.Country:Contact Person: Mr.Mayer Burren. mayer.burren01@live.com

--- [my reply to the scam email]

Congratulations!

You have been selected as a winner of our "International Money Kompetition LLC". Your main prize, should you choose to accept it, is a staggering USD$1,618,033.99!!! If you still cannot believe your luck then hold on to your suspenders because there's more! If you reply today and accept this fantastic prize we will double it! But not just by 2, but by an incredible square root of 5 which brings your total prize money to a completely mind-blowing, orgasmic and absolutely off-your-face amount of USD$3,618,033.99!!! Are your shorts wet yet? If not then they will be now, because there's even more. If you accept the prize and complete the auxiliary challenge, you will automatically win a date with a movie star of your choice [see list]! We're not kidding! It's all 100% TRUE! Your potential dates are: Peter O'Toole, Bud Spencer, Mary Stuart Masterson and Janeane Garofalo! Put that in your pipe and smoke it!!!

We already know your name, but we think it may be fake, so we'll ask you for it anyway! Why? Because we can! And since we're giving away so much money, why would you ever question our motives? We'll also need other details so ACCEPT YOUR PRIZE NOW and reply with all the details requested below!

1. Full Name:
[and remember, we need the real thing, otherwise how can you score Janeane Garofalo?]

2. Full Address:
[this is the address we will send Janeane Garofalo with a suitcase full of cash]

3. Civil Status:
[Janeane likes single, unattached people, but it's not like she can choose, now can she?]

4. Occupation: Email Scam Operator - Junior Trainee
[we've taken the liberty of filling this one out for you]

5. Phone Number:
[it's a series of digits that Mary Stuart Masterson uses to call you, and we're not talking about her hand]

6. Country:
[preferably yours, but we also accept a non-extradition treaty nation of your choice]

7. Preferred Jail Cell Number:
[this is just a formality in case you pick Bud Spencer]

---
Auxiliary Challenge - Complete this script to WIN!

JANEANE GAROFALO: Yes! Yes! Yes! Oooooooooh yyyyyyyessssssssss! Oh my god. You're so big and hard!
YOU:
JANEANE GAROFALO: Oh baby! Give it to me harder! Yes! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyessssssss.... oooooooooooooohhhhh!
BUD SPENCER: [kicks door in] What is going on here?
JANEANE GAROFALO: Oh! Bud? I thought you were dead.
BUD SPENCER: Well, this is embarrassing.
YOU:
BUD SPENCER: Hey! If you've ever seen any of my movies, you'll know how I solve problems!
PETER O'TOOLE: [emerges from behind couch] Now, Bud, I'm sure there is a diplomatic solution to this... [clears throat]... situation [lights pipe].
BUD SPENCER: Stay out of this, Peter.
YOU:
MARY STUART MASTERSON: [walks in from en suite bathroom] How could you say that?!?!? They're all natural!!!
PETER O'TOOLE: Oh, here we go again [rolls eyes].
YOU:

Dangerous Liaisons - The William Lawrence Chronicles

2010-07-10T22:50:00.000-07:00

There are three things one can be sure of in life: death, taxes and the fact that scammers rarely [if ever] give up. As much as one may loathe their craft, we must, out of sheer humbleness, give them at least some credit for their valiant efforts. Still, I may understand their circumstances, but I despise lying and dishonesty, and that is why I feel that it is necessary to send some of that love back to its source. After all, if our friends from the Benin Republic feel free to make things up, why shouldn't I do the same? You may say: "But, The Jamo! That's grossly irresponsible and hypocritical of you!" to which I would say that you are obviously not having any fun. Let's stop taking things seriously for a moment... life really is better that way. That's the new deal.

---

In this instance I take on a fake identity of Jacob Landau. Scammer emails in bold and my replies in regular type.

---

DEAR SIR/MA,

I AM ENGR WILLIAMS LAWRENCE,CEO/MD OF WYNNCORPS GROUPS INC.,I WANT TO NOTIFY YOU OF A PAYMENT THAT WAS MADE TO YOUR AUSTRALIA ACCOUNT BY ONE OF OUR CLIENT AND YOU SHOULD CONFIRM THE FUNDS IN YOUR ACCOUNT AND GET BACK AT ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

THE CLIENTS HAS MADE THE PAYMENT TO YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOU SHOULD GET BACK AT ME CONFIRMING YOU HAD RECEIVED THE FUNDS IN YOUR ACCOUNT SOON.

PLEASE KINDLY RE-CONFIRM YOUR INFORMATION AS BELOW :

FULL NAMES :

ADDRESS :

PHONE NUMBER :

NOTE : YOU ARE TO DEDUCT 10% FROM THE FUNDS BEFORE SENDING THE REST BALANCE TO THE ATTORNEY GENERAL LOCATED IN BENIN REPUBLIC VIA WESTERN UNION.

REGARDS,
ENGR. WILLIAMS LAWRENCE.

---

Dearest William Lawrence [engineer],

Thank you for writing and notifying me of the funds transferred to my account. I have just checked my account and the money has, indeed, arrived. It's all there, every cent, just as you promised. However, I am saddened to inform you that, contrary to our agreement, I will not be transferring any of that money to that corrupt pig, the attorney general of the Benin Republic. I'm sorry about this, but a man in my circumstances has to think ahead, and I'm not exactly the sharing type. So please forgive me, but I must keep all the money. Interestingly, that is also a rather apt way for me to get back at you, as you've requested no less than twice in your last email.

However, given all that, I do respect you, William, I really do. Should you ever be in dire straits and happen upon me, I will oblige and help you out. Really, I'm not a monster, as much as you may think I am. If you want, I am willing to negotiate some sort of compromise, especially if you and I can agree to keep the authorities out of the loop and just keep this deal between ourselves. What do you say?

---

Hello Jacob,

how are you doing today and thanks for your response, I received your email and content is well noted, i really understood all that you have said and still want you to please forward the money to the attorney general OK, sure we can make a deal and keep the authorities out.

Regards,

Engineer Williams Lawrence.

---

Hello William Lawrence,

Thank you for replying so promptly. However, despite your claim to the contrary, I'm fairly certain that you did not really understand all that I have said.

I told you, Lawrence, I will not pay that son of a bitch attorney general! I will not do it! Forget it! You and I can split the money instead, and if you're not happy with that then do your worst! Send your men to take me down and we'll see who wins that battle. I have seven years of playground paramilitary training on my side, and I can fire a slingshot from a swing, the top of the slippery slide and inside a jumping castle. Just last week I took down three second-graders with their own school books. Can your men do that? I didn't think so. You're not ready for this, Lawrence... you bit off more than you could chew.

So what will it be? I propose that you forget the attorney general. He's not worth the time. I spoke to him last night and told him the same thing. It went like this:

JACOB: Is this the Attorney General of the Benin Republic?
ATTORNEY GENERAL: Yes, who are you?
J: I'm your worst motherfucking nightmare, pal!
AG: What is this 'pal' you speak of?
J: Phase Alternate Line, dumbass. Now listen. I have this money here.
AG: Yes, you is give me 90% of that monies there OK!
J: Shut the fuck up and listen! You will never see that money, you understand?
AG: Yes.
J: And I will take all the money and split it with my other pal, Lawrence of Arabia, got it?
AG: Yes. Peter O'Toole great man! Great man!
J: Yeah, whatever. So me and O'Toole will split the cash. Have you got a problem with that?
AG: No problem.
J: And will you send your men after me?
AG: Yes I will.
J: Wrong answer, asshole. [hangs up]

Do you think my life is in danger?

A different way to deal with scam emails.

2010-07-07T22:28:00.001-07:00

As you've all probably experienced the beast that is the African email scam by now, you may relate to the sentiments expressed in this post. If you don't then that is alright too. In either case it is important for all of us, whether we are an artist, a scientist, a humble business owner or a lowly scammer, to be true to what we do and do it with passion, with pride and with care. This is why I have decided to post this scam email along with what I deem to be an appropriate response to it which I have sent to the scammer. This is not the first time that I have done soething like this, but the frequency, and more importantly the quality, of these scam emails indicates that this is a pressing issue. Of course I am under no illusion that I will change these people or that I will plant some seed of morality in them; this is not about such lofty goals. This is about seeing things for what they truly are; seeing people for what they truly are, and accepting that about them. Just like us, this scammer is a function of his environment.

--- [original scam email]

With Due respect Sir/ Madam,

This might come to you as a surprise. However. I am John England . An American soldier in peace keeping force here in Iraq. I'm serving in the military of the 1st Armored Division in Iraq, after going through profiles yours capture my interest as I strongly believe you are in better position to assist in this very matter as well.

As you know as soldiers we've been attack severally with bomb blasts We managed to move our funds in the tune of $10 Million USD in cash. ID information 10 U.S.C. Section 3013, Secretary of the Army; Army Regulation 25-1, Army Information Management; Army Regulation 380-19, Information Systems Security; E.O. 9397 (SSN).

This fund itself was discovered some years ago and we have hidden and concealed the funds waiting for an opportunity to move the funds out. Now there will be no more time. All US troops are leaving Iraq you see this at B.B.C NEWS, most of us have been redeployed to Afghanistan. We have to move the funds now or we likely to loose everything.

I'm contacting you as an external body because of our status as American soldiers on war duty. Our activities are highly limited based on the U.S military code of conduct. We want to move this fund to you if you can be a trust worthy person, so you preserve our own part, share of this very fund till when we will come over to meet with you. You are legitimate to 30% of the total amount.

So If you are interested kindly send an e-mail signifying your interest including your most confidential telephone numbers for quick communication this is necessary in the interest and the protection of our partnership,Then we can send to you details and it is 100% risk free. Please contact us immediately for more information.

I look forward to hear from you

Yours sincerely,
John England.

--- [reply to the scam email]

Hi John,

Thanks for writing. I hope you're kicking ass there in Iraq and teaching that immoral middle eastern scum that through gun-toting "democracy" they will actually be happier. After all, nothing convinces people to agree with you more than invading their country, killing thousands of their people, abolishing their government, executing their leader, extraditing them back to your country for interrogation and torture and quite possibly many other things that nobody actually hears about. I just think you should consider these things before you paint yourself as some sort of hero, because as far as I'm concerned, anyone who partakes in that war is not worthy of any respect.

Now, I do understand that you're not actually a soldier and it's likely that the closest you've ever come to any combat was a video game in your mother's basement. The thing is that it is so painfully apparent that your email is a scam, all I had to do was see your purported name. However, it would be disrespectful of me to just assume that and not read your carefully crafted letter. You see, if you got my email from a profile, you'd likely know my name and my gender, and if you were genuinely interested in roping me into this scheme of yours, you'd take the time to address the letter properly and possibly write in coherent English instead of that word salad that you've sent.

Let's just admit to what is stark and obvious here, John; you don't care. You have a global scam going, quite possibly cheating people out of hundreds of thousands of dollars every year and you don't even take pride in the quality of your craft. Possibly the more pathetic thing than the brainless soldier sent to fight in Iraq is YOU. Now, I know it's tough over there in Africa [or wherever you are] and I can imagine how this scam is probably the best way for you to make ends meet every week since, I do fully admit, people in western countries do get more than they need and deserve while you and your family likely hardly have enough to eat. But if this is what you're going to do then at least do it right! And above all, have some self-respect.

I will list some pointers to help identify the problem areas in your overall plan.

1. Your email address is Canadian and is obfuscated by a non-existent military domain. You may think that it's clever, but many people, not just me, will endeavor to verify the return address when faced with an email from a complete stranger. Either do it properly or don't do it at all.

2. It is unlikely that a soldier in Iraq would get unmonitored internet access, if any at all. It is obvious that you did not give this any thought what-so-ever. Your back-story has this as its integral part and yet it makes no sense. The solution here is to write a back-story that integrates your means of communication without any conflict. Think it through or don't do it at all.

3. Your fake name, "John England", is stupid and unrealistic. If you're having trouble selecting good ordinary western English names, a good source for that is an online phone book. Use the resources available to you.

4. I know US Americans don't know English, so at least in that way you may think your letter is realistic, but if you want to be taken seriously, you should know the language you're using, even if it's just to be able to replicate the common American mistakes and misspellings.

5. No one with half a working brain will deal with a soldier who was likely responsible for many unnecessary deaths. This is especially true in just about every country outside of the USA. If your back-story is going to be about a US soldier, send that to the citizens of the USA only. Again, DO YOUR RESEARCH! I cannot stress this enough.

6. Making something personal is really half the battle. If you were to find out a few things about your target, or group of targets, and address them all by name with a believable back-story that somehow related to them, you would be able to really achieve something special. However, it looks like you just don't care. How do you expect to make any money if you don't care about what you do?

7. Please think of a different angle than sharing some huge amount of cash from some undisclosed source with an unknown individual with absolutely no strings attached. What makes this unbelievable is precisely that; you make it seem too easy. Of course, you should not make it too hard, but when it's too easy, alarm bells start ringing in people's heads. There are so many other angles I can think of just off the cuff, and I'm not even in this business. Use your imagination! Truly, your best weapon is always your imagination, and if you were to think of a better, different, more exciting, more believable angle, your scam would benefit from it immediately. I could suggest a few things, but I will not do the work for you.

So, either do it well, or don't do it at all. If you are going to do it, think it through. Once you think it through, use the resources available to you to cover all the holes in your angle and back-story. Know your target audience, and once you know all that, do your research! And most of all, take pride and care in what you do and use your imagination. People all around the world get your emails, you truly do have a global audience, and a lot of them will not respect what you do because it is dishonest and they do not appreciate the severity of your situation. I do not condone what you're doing, but I know that you will not stop, so I think that you may as well do it properly. Am I wrong?

TED: Episode VII - Reality Pending Reconstruction

2010-03-11T02:11:00.000-08:00

TED: Reality Pending Reconstruction

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

---

When is enough ever enough? When are we satisfied with what we've got and no longer seek to improve things, to buy something that is better, something that replaces what was and then becomes the new norm that, with enough time, will also be replaced? Perhaps the simples answer to this question is "never." You hear people often say that, should their life, their daily circumstantial existence meet a certain set of conditions or criteria, their life will then be complete, that they will be content and happy and no longer pursue what may or may not somehow improve their state of well-being. In all but a few anomalous cases, such statements are a mere lip service paid to some outstanding need to reconcile one's own arbitrary life philosophy with the forever-ruling and self-evident fact that we simply do not need any of what we think we need. Why does the bible promise jewel-encrusted mansions and streets paved with gold in a purported afterlife where nobody is hungry or ill and lives forever in eternal bliss? What good is gold when you're never ill or hungry? What good is a diamond when you are suffering? The fact is that none of these things can bring upon happiness, be it by their own merit or some manner of proxy. What brings happiness, the only happiness that anyone could ever truly crave, is human warmth in all of its wonderful colors. Whether you're embraced by a good friend, kissed by a woman or a man that you've loved all your life or a girl you've just met or perhaps a guy who you've seen across the lecture hall, a kind word from an honest critic or a poignant uplifting quotation from a man who wrote a book. This may all sound like a load of trite spiritual hogwash but just take your mind back to that first time a girl or a guy looked at you in that way you always wanted. Would you trade that feeling for fifty dollars? A hundred? A hundred million? Would you cheapen it by even considering selling a part of you for something that has no real worth? Some of you would, I'm sure, just as some of you would not. My aim is not to convince you of anything. As the French would say: "Vive la différence!"

The Jamo

---

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Previously on TED

Still in a daze, Tad barely turned around as the last few screaming people and emergency personnel ran out of the Enlightenment complex before the loudest shudder of them all heralded its subsequent collapse. All six stories fell into a heap of rubble and flaming debris raising a dust cloud to the tune of scattered yells and rapid footsteps as everyone cleared the area where the laws of thermodynamics concluded their fantastic overture.

-

The screams subsided, the dust had settled
It was clear that no one had died
All around there was chaos and mayhem
They said it was a gas leak, they lied.

You could hear the cries, you could smell the fear
But good fortune that day was Ted's
And it occurred to him that the heart of a good man
Lay in god's hands and on his head

This was the poem whispered slowly and with a certain artistic stage flair from behind a dank side street corner where a pair of sharp eyes watched as Ted absently wandered away from the site of destruction.This was a strange place for customised open microphone poetry, but the guttural whisper was lost in the sound of police sirens, screaming firefighters and ambulance workers scrambling everywhere and nowhere in particular. It was chaos, well and truly, with people running in every manner of pointless direction, some standing and observing in awe, others talking rapidly into cellular telephones and others still, crying. It certainly was not a happy place to be, but it was none-the-less exciting in some twisted and highly perverted way. Scenes of suffering excited some people and though they would never admit it, they enjoyed the many faces of wanton destruction all the same whilst hidden behind a mask of feigned horror and concern. However, the mysterious individual now slowly pursuing Ted down the busy mall was not one of those people, at least not now since even if he was, his obvious single-minded determination and focus were only indicative of a clear objective. He was dressed strangely with boots and trousers of thick, black canvas, skateboard knee protectors, a similar black shirt with a vest, a pocket watch on a chain and a pair of welding goggles now resting against his forehead above which a head of peculiar gravity-defying hair was vivaciously giving general relativity a run for its money. It could be said that the man was a weirdo, plain and simple, but amidst the mayhem no one bothered to look, much less think about what this particular individual's motives were.

Ted was walking slowly and at one point stopped to stare blankly at a television screen just inside an electronics store. The breaking news was that of the explosion and as Ted listened to the report, his mysterious follower got ever so closer.

Frankie Pintz: [on television]... networks reporting armies of, and I quote, "super-human infantry" with at least one account of a singular combat unit, and I quote, "made entirely of machine guns". Yusef Gelsohn Ashish, one of the parties claiming responsibility, has been detained several days ago and is now being questioned by the authorities who, it is speculated, have also been terrorised. At this moment details are scarce, but what we do know through the knowledge obtained from the organisation's makeshift website, is that the splinter cell responsible for todays destruction aims to "restore the natural order of the noble savage and intellectual leadership" by means of "systematically stripping the corporate and general social constructs of all that is key to their insatiable celebration of mediocrity and stupidity." Observed by the authorities for a while now, their website often referred to "Operation Boxman" which was believed to be a key undertaking for the organisation. Who or what this particular operation concerns was never truly known, but now it is clear that something is brewing beneath the calm waters of this city. Back to the studio now for updates from other parts of the world.

The mysterious character took a few steps forward and stopped just behind Ted, looking sharply at the same monitor.

Mystery Man: They don't know anything, do they....?

He spoke with a slightly coarse voice and a strange accent. Ted, as if awoken from a pleasant dream, turned around slowly and looked at the mystery face that didn't break eye contact with the television screen. Then, sharply and with distinct theatrical prowess, the mysterious face turned towards him and grinned. At that moment something inside Ted twitched violently and a vile mixture of terror and fear was injected into his veins t the sight of the face before him. He knew that man... he knew him well... well enough to know that nothing good could come of this seemingly random yet strangely engineered encounter. Everything happened really quickly: the mysterious man and his evil grin paralysed Ted momentarily and while his other senses still served him well, he could hear a vehicle brake with a short squeal of the tyres. A door opened quickly and a flurry of footsteps surrounded him like a swarming cloud of insects about to drain his body of all the nutrients. Ted felt weak, his knees felt weak, his body felt like gelatin and just like that he collapsed in a heap on the ground. The 'flurry', as it turned out, was just one person.

Mystery Woman: I thought we agreed that we won't drug him!
Mystery Man: I didn't drug him! I just looked at him... like this... [grins]
Mystery Woman: Oh yeah, right. Sure.

Her accent was distinct, Indian, and her agitated tone sarcastic. She had long black hair sticking out from beneath a tactical helmet and a beautiful dark olive complexion which one could only gauge from her forearms as her face was obscured by a cloth face mask with only two holes for the eyes. She was dressed like an SAS commando, though an important distinction would be that an actual special air service field operative would not wear high-heel platform boots.

Mystery Man: Look, we don't really have time for this. I'll grab his arms, you help with the feet. [grabs Ted by the arms]
Mystery Woman: But we didn't plan it this way. What if someone sees us, Jamoooo?
The Jamo: Shhhh! Use my code-name. [drops Ted on ground]
Mystery Woman: Your code-name is stupid, and you're not even wearing a mask. Let's go. [picks up Ted by the feet]
The Jamo: You know what, fine. Let's not use code-names... Shivani.
Shivani: Damn it, Jamo! [drops Ted] You've compromised my cover!
The Jamo: You don't have a cover... [picks up Ted] ... and your codename was terrible.
Shivani: [picks up Ted] What is wrong with 'Inavihs'?
The Jamo: It's just 'Shivani' spelled backwards, plus it's impossible to say it!
Shivani: Well, I can say it just fine... and it's better than 'Fire Dragon'...
The Jamo: It was 'Mister Raccoon'!
Shivani: That's even worse! [both drop Ted]

There was a brief pause with an element of sideshow humour. He grinned like a maniac again and he knew that underneath that ridiculous commando mask she was laughing too.

The Jamo: Let's just get him in the van. [both pick up Ted]

They threw Ted into the van unceremoniously and closed the side door. Shivani briefly protested being the driver again, but the consideration of dealing with Ted quickly convinced her otherwise. They drove off with the van spluttering.

Inside the van, Ted was lying on the floor of the gutted inner chamber. There was nothing but metal all around. He was still out cold and a strange dream descended upon him from somewhere up above where the cherubs fly and the angels sing, convinced as he was that he had died on that sidewalk in front of the electronics store. But of course, it made perfect sense: he should have died! He should have died and gone to heaven and this was it! After all, the devil himself personally came to claim his pure, innocent soul and carry it to the depths of hell where he would surely take pleasure in tormenting it with loud electronic music and images of ravishing, voluptuous female forms. But this was not to be and Ted was glad that the good lord spared him the torment and intervened, intercepting Satan en route to inferno and claiming what rightfully belonged to him. Now flying further and further up into the glorious heavens, the soft singing of the angelic chorus put his mind at rest. He was finally home, finally where he belonged. Two beautiful winged creatures, angels beaming with the purest white glow, flew up to him and reached out for each of his arms, taking him higher and then higher still until the warm glow of the light above slowly turned into an outline of a small house. In fact, it was a country cottage and suddenly everything changed, the light faded and Ted found himself standing on a little dirt path within a grassy meadow. His two winged chaperons smiled at him kindly and motioned towards the dwelling. As Ted took the first step, the two angels took off into the sky above and disappeared. Was this to be his? Was this the beautiful eternity that was promised to him by god himself? Surely it had to be! This was too beautiful to be just some ordinary dream. This was the real thing! Indeed, he was expecting streets paved with gold and mansions encrusted with precious stones but it was only now, aided by the divine grace of the lord almighty that he realised such earthly riches would not be of any use to him here. Now with a little more confidence, he strode towards the cottage and went inside.

It was nice and cozy, with a musty smell of an old rug and an old dog laying upon it by the fireplace. By the window there was a small table with two chairs on either side and a set of chess arranged neatly in the middle. One chair was empty whereas the other was occupied by an old woman with wrinkled skin dressed in a tattered but clearly much-loved sweater. She was obviously the owner and Ted felt a little pang of disappointment realising that this beautiful property wasn't his after all. The woman didn't seem to notice him, entranced as she was by the view outside where heavy clouds above the distant horizon promised a raging storm. Ted knew he was supposed to be here, but he didn't know exactly what to do or how to behave. To anyone it would seem obvious that the chair opposite the woman was meant for him and soon enough Ted came to that same conclusion. He cautiously stepped over the sleepy dog and sat down, now staring expectantly at the old lady. She did nothing and continued staring outside. Ted scanned the table, the chessboard. He didn't really know how to play chess but he thought that perhaps if he moves a piece, something will happen. He reached out...

Voice: I would not do that if I were you...

Ted turned around, startled. Who in heavens was that? The voice finished the sentence.

Voice: ... unless you are absolutely sure that you can win.

As strange as it appeared, it was the dog talking. Lazily and with considerable effort, it got up and dragged its feet towards the table. It sat and with its hind paw it scratched itself behind the ear.

Dog: Oh yeah, that's the spot. So... it's nice that you could drop by, Ted. I am god, and welcome to my humble dwelling. It's nice, isn't it? Do you like it?

The dog was not of any clear breed so it was difficult to determine whether the talking was a part of a trick or a performance gag... not to mention that thoughts like these didn't actually occur to Ted who was shocked to learn that god is a dog. His mouth was now clearly agape... Ted's, not the dog's

Dog: What is the matter, Ted? Were you expecting a big bearded guy on a throne? I wish I could do that and make it all easier for you but I really prefer to appear the way I actually look. Yes, I know, you think dogs are dirty animals and I should be some sort of superhero. Well, sorry to disappoint you, son, but the closest thing made in my image is a dog. Omnipotent I may be, but I cannot change what I am... after all, if I did, I would not really be god, now would I? Rather a paradox if you ask me, but them's the rules.

The dog, or god, whichever way you choose to read it, turned around and approached a bowl of water from which it drank a little and then scratched itself behind the ear again.

Dog: Oh man, what is it with this itching? Shit! Ted, do you mind... I just need a little help.

God moved back towards Ted and put his head on Ted's lap. Ted could feel the warm drool soaking into his trousers as he hesitantly scratched god behind the ear.

Dog: A little further back.... oh yeah, that's it. Right there! Maybe its psoriasis, I don't know... but I'm definitely more stressed than usual. Alright, this is great. Oh, if only you people could learn to appreciate the simple things... like this one, for instance.

Ted: This one?

Dog: Yes. If only you could quit bickering about pointless bullshit. That bible of yours that you people have written, that's all such rubbish. I never said any of the things that are in it, and I never had a son. I mean for fuck's sake, what the hell would be the point? Why would I create a son who is a human version of me, a dog, so that I can send him to Earth, orchestrate his crucifixion in order to sacrifice him back to myself so that I am able to negate one of my own rules? Does that make any sense to you what-so-ever?

Ted ignored the fact that the question was rhetorical and nodded, being convinced from an early age that the sacrifice of god's son was a legitimate event. He was still scratching the hairy head of god. The dog looked up towards him.

Dog: Well... trust me, lunch box; it's completely and utterly nuts. If I wanted the rules I set changed, I would just change them. And here's the kicker; are you ready for this, Ted? I never even set any rules. Ha! You people invented them. All of them! All by yourselves! And then you nailed some poor schmuck to a cross. [sigh] But I digress. I just brought you here because I have this itch and I knew I'd need a proper scratch behind the ear sooner or later today and you were just the first best schmoe available. Yes, I know, I'm god and I could have made it so that my head doesn't itch, but have you ever asked yourself what would be the point of doing that?

Ted stared blankly at the dog.

Dog: Consider omniscience, Ted. Knowing everything isn't exactly as simple as it sounds since knowing everything entails knowing, as well as the factual and the relevant, all the other things that have absolutely no place in reality, all the things that will never happen and all the random noise in between that makes no sense at all, even to me. Sure, I know everything, but even something as simple as an itch that may or may not happen is a quagmire of probabilities that, sooner or later, resolve to nothing more than noise. And you'd think that I should know whether it will or will not happen, but I don't because, since I know everything, I can never see past probability and the infinitely small chance of absolutely anything happening at any moment. You see what I'm saying? Essentially by knowing everything, I know absolutely nothing at all and so I am no better than you, Ted. But I still haven't answered the question, because I could have made my head not itch, right? I guess I could have, yes. By that same token, however, I could have made any number of choices that would produce a different set of probabilistic results within this universe. Just consider the chaotic nature of that argument for a moment, Ted. This universe is one singular instance from an endless line of possibilities, and so are you, so am I and so is my itch. By prohibiting something like an itch that is meant to happen, I am invariably changing the nature of this universe; a universe that I really have no control over since control must spawn from knowing something about the system, and like I said before, I really don't know all that much. So my itch is a part of me. It is as much a part of my experience as it is a part of yours to scratch it. And now you may ask yourself the ultimate question: if things really are the way I've just described them, then how come you are here?

Ted stared blankly at the dog.

Dog: The answer is simple: you're not. You aren't here, and in the end an omniscient and omnipotent dog like myself is just a normal dog, since something as simple as probability demands that it be so. Like I said, them's the rules. [grin]

Ted didn't move; even if a talking dog was weird, he certainly didn't think that a dog can grin, but presumably anything was possible in this strange place. Even his scratching hand stopped as the dog lifted his head from Ted's lap leaving a sticky stain of saliva and moving back towards the rug near the fireplace. Ted darted nervously between various parts of the cottage, the dog and the elderly dame who was still staring out into the meadow.

Dog: Thanks Ted. Again, it was nice of you to drop by. As for her, don't worry. She's been like that for a few billion years now so she can wait a little longer. Sooner or later someone will play that blasted chess game with her and we'll see what happens. Personally, I don't know... you understand, the whole omniscience thing again. Anyway, best of luck to you and ummm... say hi to all your friends for me.

God grinned again and then, out of nowhere, it produced a solitary but none-the-less vivacious bark... and then Ted opened his eyes.

He was sitting in a chair next to a small table. For a moment it did not occur to him that he might not actually be dead any more, but this was quickly rectified by a character sitting at the opposite end, reading a newspaper. Upon closer inspection, the character wasn't actually reading as much as he was folding and the newspaper wasn't a newspaper as much as it was just regular paper. The character was none other than The Jamo who was busy practicing the ancient and very evil Japanese art of paper folding called... Ted couldn't remember. But who would want to remember these evil things? Purity of thought was of utmost importance and just then, The Jamo casually darted in his direction and, upon spotting Ted awake, he grinned and spoke.

The Jamo: Oh good, you're back. We though you were dead. I suppose it's good that you're not since we really have no more room for bodies. The fridge is all packed, there is no more space out the back, and the dog is so tired of human flesh that I think he'd sooner eat a chessboard. [pause] For you, Ted.

The Jamo finished folding and reached over the table to place a pointy paper crown upon Ted's head. Ted was confused. If he wasn't dead then where was he just a moment ago? He looked at the table; it was standing against a brick wall. Immediately to his right, laying on the floor, was an old tattered rug with a dog soundly asleep. For a moment, Ted forgot about his own sense of safety and self-preservation and concentrated entirely on the strange sequence of events that transpired on this seemingly ordinary day. Here was this man, surely the devil himself, and god, in his infinite canine wisdom, marred only by the probabilistic consequence of itself, chose not to destroy Mephistopheles and instead send them both back to Earth. But for what reason? The dog, asleep up until now, got up to stretch it's tired bones and looked at Ted with marginal interest. Ted scanned the vicinity. It was an industrial building, an abandoned factory of some sort with ominous machines sitting quietly in the darkness. There were windows to the outside but behind them there was only darkness. It was clear that he was out for a while and awoke once the evening came to pass. Perhaps this was hell. Perhaps the good lord had forsaken him and cast him into the abyss! This was certainly a viable explanation given that so many times before he was unable to stop the forces of evil and consequently succumb to their will. If this was hell, as indeed it appeared to be, then he would have to fight his way out and possibly even conquer death itself.

Somewhere from within the darkness, another party approached. This time around she was not wearing a face mask or a tactical helmet. She was, however, carrying a small portable computer.

Shivani: Oh, our guest is awake.
Ted: You and them I knows that!

Ted's exclamation was actually quite unexpected. Shivani turned to The Jamo.

Shivani: What did he say???
The Jamo: I have no idea. I could never understand what the hell he's on about. [turns to Ted] Listen, Ted. We have you here for one simple reason, so let me lay the groundwork of Operation Boxman down before you. It just so happens that the stars and planets have aligned and you [points at Ted] are, quite possibly, the dumbest motherfucker around. And yes, that was actually a compliment of sorts. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about because throughout my life on two different continents, in numerous schools and jobs and within innumerable groups of people from just about everywhere, I have seen a lot of stupid, but what you have on offer is actually quite exceptional... and in a way that no one would ever think possible, too. It boggles the mind how you're able to get up every morning without somehow killing yourself or forgetting to breathe. What is, however, infinitely more interesting, is how you're able to get by; go to work, vote, use a computer, or drive a car. I mean, the very fact that someone like you is responsible for two tonnes of metal on wheels moving at high velocity is a really scary thought. Perhaps it's on par with you raising children, but that's a can of worms we won't be opening tonight. So, I know that you don't really care, much less understand why this is important to us, but you, Ted, are the way to the future! [grins]

Ted wasn't tied to the chair but not for even one moment did it occur to him to run away. This place was huge but he felt trapped, almost as if he was stuck in an underground mine with all the exits caved in. He silently prayed to god inside his head but all he could envision was a dog being scratched behind the ear. To him, this image of god was totally unworkable and unworthy of respect, but what was he to do? He could not deny god his power simply because he looked different.

Shivani: It took us a while to figure this out, mainly because of your inherent paranoia which made it impossible for us to gather sufficiently large samples of data. However, with enough time and inside personnel, our two wonderful infiltrators, Jared the Britisher and Oskmeister Deluxe, even this lengthy exercise proved fruitful in the end.

The Jamo: Do you know what the problem is with knowing everything, Ted?

Something within Ted twitched.

Ted: Is knowings everythings are nothing to know is.

Suddenly The Jamo felt perturbed, ever so slightly but remained calm and controlled. Shivani looked at The Jamo with obvious concern.

The Jamo: Indeed. You are right, Ted. The problem with knowing everything is that you can never separate the good stuff from the utter crap. There is no such thing as true and false in an infinite world of random data. But what if... what IF there was a way to filter this noise by means of another source of crap that, to an untrained eye, appear to be the pointless and asinine ramblings of a poorly educated moron? What IF there exists a man who is so utterly stupid that he unwittingly holds the key to predicting the future itself? There is potentially no limit to the applications of such a discovery, and guess who this lucky individual is...

Ted looked around and then down while his eyes settled on the most likely specimen. He pointed at the dog.

The Jamo: Marvelous! You will do just fine.
Shivani: What about that thing before with...
The Jamo: Don't worry, it must have been a statistical anomaly.

Ted didn't like being under pressure and answering questions was never his forte. In fact, he liked it when he could just say whatever needed to be said using as few words as possible with as many references to unrelated past events as he could manage. This, of course, saved him a lot of work and communicated the desired message much more effectively... or so he thought. The Jamo checked his pocket watch.

The Jamo: We now only have about three minutes before everything begins. Any last words?

This was a difficult question for Ted as he had no idea what was going on. Shivani opened the portable computer and shot The Jamo a look of concern.

Shivani: Are you sure about this?
The Jamo: As sure as I am that Ted's an idiot.
Ted: Idiot is you and then something. In saying this one I know you don't consider pretty easy!

Shivani started typing quickly.

The Jamo had his eyes zeroed-in on Ted.

Ted darted nervously, now in a state of mild panic, unable as he was to comprehend what is happening.

Shivani: Got it... we need more.

The Jamo didn't break eye contact with Ted.

Ted: They won't see that one! In saying this one!!! I want you to reach your hands!!!
Shivani: Got it! One minute, fifteen seconds. Are you absolutely sure about this?!?
The Jamo: Absolutely. [grins]

The ground began to tremble. The lights flickered. Ted appeared to become less scared and visibly more agitated. He stood up and pointed at The Jamo.

Ted: We do your way doing it! That's why you've got yeah!!! Hahahaha! I is nothing to worry. It's not an option, it's a must!!!
Shivani: Got it! Thirty five seconds!!!

The rumble was now unsettling and beginning to drown out the exchange. The Jamo got up.

The Jamo: Excellent! Any last words, Ted? Any last words before it all begins?

There was a pause. A drop of sweat ran down Ted's forehead.

Shivani: Fifteen seconds!!!
The Jamo: Plenty of time!!! Say it, Ted! SAY IT!

The rumble was now deafening and the concrete floor was shaking. All but one of the lamps above went out leaving them in almost complete darkness; the solitary light source now creating dramatic shadows upon Ted's face. He heard a noise from behind him and quickly darted in its direction. One of the side doors to the factory floor opened and a cool breeze immediately chilled the dry dusty air. This was his chance. This was his only chance.

Ted: You can't make it small enough... it is as small as it is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ted spun around and ran like the wind. He ran like he never ran before, as if a thermonuclear blast wave was about to catch up with him. Nobody would catch him that day... nobody could. And certainly, on that night, nobody even tried. Ted vanished in the inky blackness of night, running forth into the darkness, no doubt in due time reaching a road that he'd follow back to relative safety.

The freight train went past the factory at exactly the same time as every night and the lights came back on, one by one. Shivani and The Jamo did not move until everything was silent once again. The Jamo had his eyes closed. Shivani smiled.

Shivani: We've got it.
The Jamo: [whispers] Excellent. [shouts] Excellent work, everyone! A splendid feat of pure theatrical prowess!

Jared the Britisher emerged from the back.

Jared the Britisher: Were the lights OK? I was trying to improvise a little, you know... make it more realistic and in time with the train.
The Jamo: They were perfect.

The Oskmeister walked in from the outside.

Oskmeister: It's frigid out there! Why did I have to be the door guy?
The Jamo: Because you were late for the planning phase.
Oskmeister: So, have we got it?
Shivani: Yes... but I'm still concerned about how he knew.
The Jamo: It doesn't matter. Everything went according to plan. He is now, no doubt, exactly where he needs to be... [checks watch].. oh, I'd say reaching the road now next to the yellow roadworks sign.

By now Ted knew that no one was pursuing him and that he could ease off the pedal, exhausted as he was. He reached a road and rested against some kind of road sign. He didn't bother to look what it was but the road was in shambles and the approaching car moved slowly. Upon spotting him, the driver stopped the vehicle and wound down the window. Ted got inside and the car slowly drifted into the distance.

Wondir No More - Episode X

2010-01-14T05:37:00.000-08:00

The Jamo's: Wondir No More

Episode X: Word Replacement Therapy

It is truly incredible that we are already at the end of The Jamo's Wondir No More. I will miss it dearly. What is even more incredible, however, is the cross-section of the human population that we have had the chance to meet over the last few months. We snuck a peek into the emptiness of their heads and their intricate thinking processes. Perhaps the best way to end the series and summarise everything that this project is about, is to give out some awards highlighting the things that made this earth-shattering series possible. It is time to say goodbye... for now. Let us, then, get a comfortable chair, settle down with a mug of hot chocolate and enjoy this last installment of The Jamo's Wondir No More. We will give out five awards after which we shall embark on the home-stretch with the last question and answer round.

The award is stated by The Jamo in large italics. The winning text is in unaltered plain text below the stated award. As always, all punctuation, grammar and spelling are preserved.

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The award for the longest, most garbled and incoherent, marble-mouthed, run-on sentence goes to this guy.

my girlfriend of three years is making me suspiciouse of her doings outside the home she and i went out the other night and both got drunk and she wanted to drive behind her sister to make sure she was alright and i told her we needed to get home right away and she insisted so i walked considering our home was not far away and she did not return for at least another 2 hours she told me that her sister inssited on going to the next door neighbors of her sisters house where a bunch of black guys that act like thugs and players were she went as she tells me to make sure her sister was alright she has no back round of this and is making me wander if she actually did somting cause about a month ago she went out byherself and gave a black guy a ride to a friends house that she knew and did not return for a while either now i am wandering if she is doing somthing behind my back cause there are times when she is supposimly at her sisters house babysitting for her sister that the other woman that lives with her sister awnsers the phone and says shes sleeping and she dosent awnser the phone and wont come to the phone and im just getting a little upse wandering if she is messin around cause im a good guy i always get things for her and tell her i love her and romance her well i try to but she wont let me msot the time its only at her convienencewell n e ways thewres more but i dont know what else to say
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The award for the most incoherent scientific process goes to this individual.

to retrieve a memory or to remember one by the fact that an influence gave u curiosity to search for one in a specfic time period, would i have to know what im looking for in order to retrieve it...
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The award for excellent deduction skills and the "too much information" award goes to this lady.

my daughter has a foul smell coming from inside her nose, my husband and i thought it was her mouth but later realized it wasnt from her mouth but nose
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The "concise contemporary relationship summary" award goes to this fine lady.

Knowing that you have feelings for someone and in the beginning they were feeling the same for you, but something took a turn because you two had sex and it got out to certain people and u guys havent talked in like more than a week. What are you to so in this situation knowing that you still have feelings for him and there might be another girl in the picture, so its not only u anymore?
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The insecurity award as well as the word replacement award goes to this lady.

I work with dis guy who likes me n told every1 @ work includin ma mom dat he wanna be with me. He couldnt tell me n told his friends 2 tell me. Last Friday he had da courage 2 ask me 4 ma number so i gave it 2 him. He told me 2 call him but he never picked up when i called. He called n sent him a text 3 times 2 see wuzup but he didnt reply either I dont undastand why he wont pick up ma calls n i'm so dissappointed n broken up inside. I dont know wat t do if i see him at work 2moro. I dont know whether i should ask him why he did dat or just 4get aba it n ignore him. He doesnt know dat i like him 2 but do wanna be with him so bad. So i need advice inwat 2 do when i see him @ work 2moro. Any advice will be appreciated.

Episode IV: Cacophonic Symphony

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This week it's not just stupid questions and clever nihilistic retorts that you have grown to love. It is time to present to you a list of questions that should not, or sometimes even cannot, be answered. As much as I wanted to answer each and every one of them, I felt that the humour contained in the question itself was far better than anything I could come up with. "How can that be? - I hear you scream in terror. Read this weeks issue of The Jamo's: Wondir No More and find out. Once again, I leave nothing out. All the questions are preserved with every garbled thought clearly laid out for your reading pleasure. So what are you waiting for? Keep on reading!

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If you told your really close guy friend's friend who's starting to become your friend that to keep waiting for your close guy friend because he's thinking about her just to encourage her because he's the best for her what would that say to you?

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GIVE THREE VERSES THAT MENTION THAT VARIOUS PARTS OF OUR BODY WILL BE QUESTIONED AND BEAR WITNESS AGAINST OS ON THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT?

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my ex called me in her house and was telling me she has feeelings for some else why would she call me in and make me tea she said she liked her driving instructer she ended it y would she call me in any advice.

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if your ex tries making u jealous by tell u she has feelings some else but then she lied but then tells me again if she still likes me why would she do this.

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please help me what is a light bulb i feel so silly

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My boyfriend of a year received a phone call from a friend of his saying that my mother told his girlfriend that she was ready for me to move away to college to get away from him. Saying that he wasnt good enough for me and how he wasnt ever going to amoung to anything... It would have been one thing if she would have told me she felt this way instead of telling it to other people... I am a little upset, but not as much as my bf...

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plz help me... i am having trouble sleeping and focusing on anything but my friend and her two kids and not to mention the fire... i cant seem to think of anything else it devastates me terrible and my 2 cousins were also in there... no humans dies but her puppy and dog and fish died i have tried and put it behind me but i cant... can anyone help me... i cant keep on living my life in fear and being devastated... plz help i need some help....

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Please help am desperate to get things moving now, have eaten 2 pineapples and drink raspberry leaf tea, sex is out the question, any other ideas please?

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when was the lamethrower invented?

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how old is god?

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I like this girl Haley. And Haley had just turned 16 and a Sophomore in High School, and I'm 17 turning 18 in may, and i'm a Junior in High School. And Her 16th birthday was on Thursday, and I gave her a birthday balloon, and a birthday card in clas. And she said "How Sweet!" And on Thursday after school A kid in our last class said "Hey where's girlfriend Haley?" And Haley said "ew!" And I also said "Sh*t up!" What does this mean? P.S. Haley is friends with my best friend's ex-girlfriend, and my best friend's ex-girlfriend is also my ex-girlfriend. P.S. And I don't know how and when to tell Haley how I feel about her. Keep in my she is friend with my ex-girlfriend! I would appreciate it, if you e-mailed me back. Thank You! And May God Bless You!

Wondir No More - Episode III

2010-01-14T05:10:00.000-08:00

The Jamo's: Wondir No More

Episode III: The Symptoms of Mold Poisoning

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my girlfriend and i live togather and we have for 2 years well we are currently fighting and she always gives me the silent treatment what should i do?

In my experience there is only one thing to do when someone treats you like the garbage that you are. Wait until she is out shopping and proceed to set up booby traps around the place. I propose bear traps, laser trip-mines, spring loaded axes and some of those doorknob-string-shotgun contraptions. That'll teach her.
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PLEASE IF ANYONE KNOWS WHAT THE SYMPTOMS OF WHAT MOLD POISONING CAN DO TO A PERSON LET ME KNOW?

You'll be relieved to know that the symptoms cannot harm you in any way. And if you want to 86 yourself then shrooms are not the best option. May I suggest a Berretta 45. Point it at your dumbo face and pull the trigger. Problem solved.
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how do we tell weather our crushes r lying when they say they like sum1 else

The problem is that you don't know that... and you will not know that unless you are prepared to go the extra mile. Follow him home, kill the fusebox, storm the house and pin him to the ground with a few knives and your favourite firearm. Point it at his face and extract the necessary information. If you have any reasons to believe that he's still lying, aim at the face, turn yours away and pull the trigger. The best thing to do is not to think too much about it. He's just a man and there are plenty more of them. Call this "collateral" and remember that now that you have done this, everyone will respect you and will never lie to you again.
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There's this girl up until recently i've started to like. She's very open(talks to me alot and is easy to talk to), VERY nice, and smart. I would ask her out, but 1) Theres a few other guys she talks to alot, so i dunno who she likes, or IF she likes anyone AT ALL.

Do not, under any circumstances, ask her out. This will make you appear weak and needy. You are a man, are you not?!? GET A GRIP! Forget about women and sex and concentrate on making this world a better place. A woman will not make you happy. She may look and smell nice now but soon enough, like a malignant cancer, she will infiltrate every aspect of your life with her rotten gangrenous tentacles. They will wrap themselves around your throat and slowly choke you disallowing any call for help. She will consume you whole when her emotional acids penetrate that weak corpus you call your soul. That, my friend, will be the end of you.
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what do you do if your in love but dont wana get hurt?

There is only one thing to do: you have to start hating the other person. Love is a temporary thing that can be overcome with feelings of hate, anger and extreme bone-breaking loathing. Stare at the person in question for hours at a time and pick at every nuance and idiosyncrasy after which think about how much you despise everything that he/she does. If that person does something nice for you, don't be fooled. Its a trick; a scam designed to rope you into their nightmare. Stew those feelings inside you for weeks and weeks. Whenever you feel like releasing it all or confessing your love, hold back and remember that love is not worth it in the end. You must HATE, and HATE you will.
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How much does an inground pool cost?

Depends how big the pool is. Usually pools in general are rather expensive. A cheap alternative is to invest in a shovel, broom and a wheelbarrow and dig a hole in your yard. Dig it to the desired size after which fill it with water. Presto! A pool fit for kings. And if any idiot tells you that it's just a hole with muddy water, push him into the pool and use a broom to keep him/her down until they learn.
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Dos my famley heit me?

Given your spelling that indicates a lack of education, I would say that your family most definitely hates you. If you were my child I would hate you too. In fact I hate you right now even though I dont know you and am in no way related to you. I am so disgusted by everything that you are that sooner than getting rid of you, I would get rid of myself by jumping into an active volcano.
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if a person is only a suspect in an alledged burglury then what evidence would the police need to bring in front of a judge to get an order for a dna test can the police just ask a judge for an order to obtain a dna sample with no evidence.

The most comprehensive evidence they can hope for is a photograph of your sorry imbecile carcass in the act of whatever idiotic crap you were doing. You know what? I hope they do find the evidence and put you behind bars. Why the hell should anyone help you? Rot in prison you scum!
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how do you tell somebody your gay.

First, make a lot of fuss about how you see homosexuality as a non-threatening "lifestyle choice" then start whining about your problems with your inability to meet women. This will provide adequate smoke and mirrors for you to initiate a subtle and smooth transition into the wild wild world of flaming homosexuality.
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We are looking for an inexpensive family holiday. We live in western washington and have 2 pre teen girls.

Take them for a walk around the block. Buy a hotdog or two, and go back home. According to my calculations, this will cost you no more than $6.95. Enjoy!
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Can anyone help a poor blonde in need of support b/c of her stupid family? If so, plz reply to this...

A poor blonde? Why would anyone care about your hair colour? Does being blonde make your situation any worse? If you said a "poor student" or a "poor mother" then that says something about your situation, but a "poor blonde" makes you sound like you are actually stupid enough to think someone will help you because you have yellow hair. Do you see any sense in that, because I sure don't.

Wondir No More - Episode II

2010-01-14T05:04:00.001-08:00

The Jamo's: Wondir No More

Episode II - The art of answering questions.

Each one of these questions was found on www.wondir.com [now defunct] and every answer shown here was posted on the site. The original questions are in bold with all the spelling, grammar and punctuation preserved. The Jamo's answers are in plain text below each question. ENJOY!

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I like a boy na,ed Collin I don't know if he like's me what should i do?

Make him like you. Pay him a lot of money if you have to. Whatever you do, don't let him get away. This may be the last chance you will ever find someone you like. Do whatever it takes... bribes, tip-offs, people smuggling, kidnapping. Collin will be yours, you just have to play your cards right.
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My daughter is being sent to a retina specialist b/c they said that she has a hole in her retina. She is 18 years of age - It sounds serious - Can someone help me to know what is going to be done?

Shouldn't you discuss it with the medical practitioner? You're not saying that you sent your daughter to a "specialist" and heard nothing from him apart from an invoice crammed in your mailbox? It wasn't one of those shady street corner doctors, was it? Dear lord... it was, wasn't it? Run! Get your daughter away from that man as soon as possible!!!
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How can I get a French version of what to expect from the Toddler yrs. Thanks.

You want your toddler to comply with your expectations in French? Nothing simpler. Take the toddler, sit it on a desk. With a large screwdriver remove the access panel in the back of the head. With a pair of forceps, remove the circuit board from the inner cavity. The toddler will spew a lot of garbled crap at that moment but pay no attention, it will power down automatically. Put the circuit board in an envelope and mail the vendor with a request for a French version of the chip. Make sure to include $30 postage, handling and insurance.
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What's the best way to conquer fears? Perform a task? Simply believe something? or what?

Some people perform tasks like chopping cabbage and running into walls... others believe in stupid crap like gods and unicorns. There is, however, another way. It's called ACID. Take some of that stuff and in no time you'll be leaping out of windows and running in front of freight trains like any other normal human being.
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How do I know if I had a misscariage?

Your baby should be dead.
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my friend is telling me that she wants to commit suicide. People tell her to go jump off cliffs and that they wouldnt care/notice if she died. She believe these poeple even though they say there kidding. What should I do... How can i help her?

You probably won't believe it but the truth is this. If this friend of yours is serious about the suicide then nothing you can do will stop her. On the other hand, she might be depressed and trying to get people's attention in which case you should encourage her to commit the suicide so that she realises that those sorts of mind games are lame and ineffective.
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how can i test somthing like if its from God? ( and yes i am christian)

Short answer: you can't. Why? Because god is an untestable entity which is why god does not exist. If things could be tested for the presence or any sort of attachment to God then there would be no dispute as to whether god exists or not. The problem is that god cannot be tested and hence should be considered non-existent.
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The website won't let me sign in. My ID is glsmooth and my password is brittani. Am I being blocked?

You just gave everyone on wondir.com your user details. Well done! Can I have your credit card number too?
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Who pays for the flowers traditionally for a wedding?

Typically, the same person who orders them.
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How do u get over a guy?

This depends on a lot of things. Primarily it is a matter of how big he is. A simple choice is to use a ladder to get to the top and then jump down on the other side. Pole vaulting has been a popular solution lately though not many have access to this kind of equipment. We could also think outside the box. If something is in the way, like a guy, blasting your way through with a few kilograms of TNT doesn't sound so bad.
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what questions are needed for a persausvie interview?

Glad you asked. A persuasive interview needs more than just questions. In order to get what you want from the subject, your body language needs to be that of power and relentlessness. If questions you pose don't get answered to your satisfaction consider transferring some force from your fist directly to his face. You may also consider having some fake incriminating documents against the subject as well as other innocuous looking interview paraphernalia like: sulphuric acid, dentistry tools, car batteries with jumper cables and Pez dispensers. Be imaginative but try not to overuse the Pez dispenser unless that nipple cripple is absolutely necessary.

Wondir No More - Episode I

2010-01-14T04:40:00.000-08:00

The Jamo's: Wondir No More

Episode I - An adventure through a brain of a dumbass.

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I like this boy named eddie and he dosnet like me wat should i do to geyt him to notice me???

The best way to get someone to notice you and remember you forever is to engage in some sort of desperate act like strapping 5kg of dynamite to your chest and blowing yourself up in the name of your love for him. Preferably you should do it in front of his house but you can always just videotape it and have your friend send it over to eddie. He will then be able to watch your selfless sacrifice for him over and over again... even in slow motion.
---

how do i know if i'm gay or not??

A good litmus paper test for discerning homosexuality is the following experiment that you can perform in the comfort of your own home. Load up LimeWire and download a George Michael video. I suggest "Too Funky". Watch the video and pay special attention to all the models in revealing clothes with shots of George Michael spliced in every few seconds. If you get an erection while looking at George Michael then you're gay.
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I'm so depressed. I'm lonely. I just feel like its not fair when so many losers have someone who actually love them back. Like look at me, I'm not saying that I'm so nice and everything but at least I'm not one of those mean girls but still I dont have a boyfriend. I used to be in quite a few relationship but none lasted longer than 2 months. I'm not asking for a boyfriend here but I'm just saying that it isnt fair cuz I kinda deserve one who will truly love me but i dont get one and look at all those mean girls. How come they are in a long relationship :S Anyone has a comment on this?

Oh boo hoo. Poor you with nobody around to like you and love you back. You know, the best medicine for this is just to stuff a sock in it and deal with it. For crying out loud, if you're looking for this sort of advice on the net then I think there are bigger issues that you need to address. The first thing you need to hammer into your head is that nobody cares. Second, you do not need anyone to live a happy and prosperous life. Only when you realise and accept those two notions will you be able to enter a loving relationship with the right partner. Until then, shut up.
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i like my best friends boyfriend what should i do?

Don't listen to any of these people here. Instead, listen to me. Everyone will tell you that you have to choose and prioritise when in fact they are not seeing the big picture. You can have your friend and her partner too. Sure, it will take a lot of lies, backstabbing, proverbial fence-jumping and all sorts of trickery, but in the end isn't it about YOUR happiness? Precisely!
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my sister is like way prettier than me and all my ffffriends like her. what do i do?

What do you do, what do you do? Well, there are a number of ways to go about this. Have you seen that film called "FACE/OFF"? Well, if you haven't then watch it and consider a similar surgical procedure. Then there is always the possibility of taking your sister out of the equation. You know... one day you might "accidentaly" push her in front of a moving car. Presto! Problem solved. Don't thank me though, I'm always glad I can help.
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How do I convince this guy's mom to let us go out??????? I'm scared of her......

Never listen to people who tell you that something is impossible. Be it your beau's mother or the boneheads on this website. Also, never be scared of people who have authority over you. Do you know what it is that gives them the authority? It's you and you give it to them by being scared. So what I suggest is that you march into your beau's house equipped with a piano wire, approach his mother from behind and strangle her. Remember, it works best if the wire is pulled up from underneath the throat. Straight afterwards, ask your beau to help you move and bury the body. If he loves you, he will help, if he doesn't... well then at least you got rid of his Nazi mother so he can date girls he actually likes.
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how can u get the attention of a guy but at the same time play hard 2 get??

The way this is dome is rudimentary to the core. First rummage around in your basement and find that discarded baseball bat. Then approach the guy in question and shwing him one in the back of the head. This will definitely get his attention. If he doesnt go down, you have to run as fast as you can... it's even better if you have a car. This will make you appear hard-to-get. If he does go down, visit him at the hospital a day or two later and try to smother him with his pillow while he's asleep. Repeat these stunts until things go your way.
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there is all these myths where you can tell ''how big'' a guy is ''down there'', like shoe size, height, and maybe even hand size, but that is not all true. is there anything u can look at to tell something like that?

Yes there is! You would not necessarily know it but there is one thing you can look at in order to judge the size of his "monster", and that my dear friend, is the monster itself. Guys will say you're weird but trust me, he will love it when you come up to him and pull his pants down.

TED: Episode VI - Signal and Noise

2009-09-22T07:26:00.000-07:00

TED: Signal and Noise

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

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Again, you're back, oh followers of Ted's inconceivable tale. Were you not back, you would not be reading this and since you're reading, it means that you're back... well, either that or you've just stumbled upon this page for the first time by accident. But is there such a thing as an accident? Maybe... just maybe the events that unfold within anyone's life are deterministic and nothing can happen any other way than that which we experience. Or maybe the world really is chaotic, unpredictable and unstable, where a decision born from some insatiable want or need is something that can never be predicted, never tested nor dissected. And maybe the events which we attribute to gods or spirits, intangible forces that dwell behind some astral veil are caused by nothing more than random happenstance and serendipitous coincidence, both oblique and striking in their nature that so often point us to the supernatural. Again, we find ourselves wanting there to be something more, something mysterious and otherworldly rather than this pathetic mortal coil. The truth is that we may never know what the nature of this world is, but is there any point, any reason in believing that there necessarily must be more than what is tangible and detectable? If we were to assume that the reality around us is, in fact, deterministic, would it devalue our lives in any way? Even if one was to know for sure that all their choices have already been made ahead of time, those choices are still unknown and obscure until one experiences them in accordance with the context of the present moment. Technically speaking, it is pointless to even ask whether the universe is chaotic or deterministic since the answer would not lead us any closer to any more profound understanding of our lives. Likewise, it could be said that to believe in any omniscient being, like a god, is to believe that everything is predetermined and that nothing can alter the course of things. Whether it devalues your life or not is a matter of personal philosophy, but what is painfully obvious is that a being such as that, an omniscient god, at least in the context of our collective reality, is completely unnecessary. That is something that Ted may or may not have thought about, but right now, it seems, he has got bigger problems on his shoulders. And so, with that in mind, let us continue the tale, hoping like mad that, be it deterministic or not, the end is just and carries with it some manner of consolation and absolution.

The Jamo

---

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Bearded Man: Hey! Can ya hear me?

The sound was muffled as Ted's ears adjusted to the ambiance after the deafening shudder and crumble of the walls. Shiva, the omnipotent force of destruction had struck, and there was nothing to be done but to watch as the safe haven that was Ted's office was now in a strange state of disrepair. The lights flickered and momentarily died again as Ted caught a fleeting glimpse of someone's hand waving in front of his eyes. However, nothing registered, in a strange stupor that he was engrossed, lying there on the floor and staring absently at the ceiling.

Bearded Man: Ye're lookin' awfuly peely-wally, son. Come on now, if you can hear me, give me a wee littl' signal for fuck's sake...

The man's accent was distinctly Scottish and though Ted would not necessarily pay attention to such insignificant details, the utterance of the throw-away profanity made his heart skip a beat and then catch up while he took a raspy yet deep and refreshing breath. Ted looked at the man staring at him from above. Surely he could not have died, this was not heaven and that was not the good lord, though his donning of a white overcoat while sporting a nicely trimmed white beard could have fooled several moderate believers. A pair of circular spectacles suspended within wire frames made the man's orbits stand out, exaggerating further the cross-eyed nature of his steady gaze. Good lord or not, this man commanded a strange sort of menace, or at least he did to Ted, and so it seemed like a good step towards self-preservation to acquiesce.

Ted: Is?

---

Camera Man: OK, we're on in five, four, three...

He mouthes the last remaining digits and indicates them via hand gestures. The little red light on the camera comes to life. Smoke rolls by as the reporter shuffles in his spot and adjusts his jacket. His eyes momentarily snap into the camera lens.

Reporter: We're standing here in front of the Enlightenment Centre Office Complex which, approximately fifteen minutes ago, was shaken by two explosions of unknown origin. Right now it is difficult to say exactly what took place here but as you can see, smoke surrounds the building and fire is visible through some of the windows. As yet there are no casualty reports and the fire department is conducting an evacuation procedure in order to secure the building and investigate further. Some suspect a gas leak, and from scattered and unverified reports we gather that the explosions occured in the basement of the complex. This building houses a number of companies, including two schools: The Institute of FATE, that is the Federal Alliance for Tertiary Education and also the Oxford International Academy, in no way associated or affiliated with Oxford University, England.

---

Bearded Man: Aye, good man! That wasn't so fuckin' hard, now was it? You're not hurt, laddie; there's not a scratch on ya! Ye just got a wee bit scared like a dumpster cat in a dumpster, chewing on dumpster rubbish.

Ted blinked a couple of times and lifted his head, trying to gauge the severity of his current plight. Apart from the strange gentleman hovering next to him, there was no one around. Distant alarms could be heard somewhere from deep within the bowels of the building; once in a while the shouting of men and the sound of rapid footsteps suggesting fire crews and other emergency personnel gave away the reality of what had happened that Ted so desperately tried to shut out. It was a losing battle and even he had to admit that lying there wasn't worth the effort, though one might say that lying anywhere is, by default, an effortless task. He got up, and the bearded man followed suit.

Ted: Let's just work on this one.
Bearded Man: Aye. I read ye loud and clear, lad. Let's do. This way... follow me lead.

You don't have to tell Ted twice... in fact you seldom have to tell him once because as much as Ted would like to believe the opposite, the plain and simple catalytic fact is that he simply is not a leader, never was a leader and is unlikely to ever become one. In short, Ted is a follower and it would be natural to feel empathetic towards him, comparing him to the likes of the oppressed, marginalised and possibly even the enslaved. The truth is that for Ted, this is a perfectly normal way of being. Having been placed, quite by chance, in this precarious position of rudimentary leadership, Ted has been known to repeatedly and consistently deny himself his inalienable right to free thought with seemingly capricious yet strangely disturbing statements, the like of which he was about to utter now, just as the bearded man took the first few steps towards the exit.

Ted: Wait... let's not make our own decisions.

Momentarily stunned not only by Ted's idleness but also by the implication of his statement, the bearded man stopped and turned around.

Bearded Man: Huh? Now don't you be a daft fuckin' idiot, lad! If we don't make a decision then what do you suggest we do?

Ted paused, weighing his response somewhat haphazardly inside his head.

Ted: Ask Melbourne.

---

From up above, a piece of flaming insulation foil landed gently in between the reporter and the camera man.

Reporter: Holy shit!!! [jumps back] That almost hit me! Did you see that? It almost hit me! Man, this is really dangerous! What if it hit me... it could have ruined my hair or my jacket. Holy fuck... what the fuck is going on here? The sky is fucking falling!!!

Camera man: [whispers] We're still on air!

Reporter: Oh shit! [slams microphone on the ground, crosses arms] My career is over! IT'S OVER! FUCK! How could I blow it this bad? How did I manage to do this now?!?!? Of all the god damned opportunities...

The camera man rolled his eyes with head tilted back, his only available arm gesturing a sign of resignation. The reporter immediately straightened and looked into the camera, as if suddenly aware again that he is being broadcast live. In the background, the office complex tenants executed the mass exodus onto the street that was now blocked on both sides. The camera man motioned to the reporter who darted back then quickly picked up the microphone and again locked his eyes on the camera lens. Then, in an act of true journalistic prowess he furrowed his brows and pressed a small earphone further into his ear, now listening intently.

Reporter: Hold on... [pause]. This just in, we now have an unofficial claim to the responsibility for this attack, and yes, apparently this was an attack orchestrated by none other than the radical underground cult leader Yusef Gelsohn Ashish. The radical revolutionary, Ashish, has been known to the authorities for years now and has been considered a realively low-key threat given that his modus operandi consists mainly of bizarre phonecalls and voicemail messages that attempt to coerce the recipient into performing a variety of questionable tasks that usually lead to some derivative of social suicide.

---

The bearded man stared for a moment, trying to comprehend Ted's last communique with furrowed brows and jaw slightly agape. Ted's shoulders slumped and he looked at the ground, temporarily becoming a perfectly formed image from his formative school years, alas thirty years older, where many a time he would give up and succumb to the authority of his teachers and peers. From the corner of his eye he spied his office telephone, and with the little red light atop the chassis beckoning him the answer to all his problems was obvious.

Ted: Let's do it right, OK?
Bearded Man: Do what? Ya talk rubbish like ya'ad twelve pints, son! Isnae enough to get ye to think? Don act it, laddie, and get out this building!!!

The only thing that the bearded man could muster was a shake of the head as he turned to exit only to face a running female party that so imprudently rammed her way past him. It was Bron and, with an exclamation of joy and concurrent concern, she yelled while simultaneously wrapping her arms around Ted's neck.

Bron: Ted!!! Oh, my sweet, beautiful Ted! I am so happy that you're alright. He is alright, isn't he, doctor?
Ted: Doctor?
Bearded Man: Aye! Jack is me name. Jack Kerry... Doctor Jack Kerry, from the clan McKerry.

Ted didn't register. Doctor Jack Kerry shook his head and turned to Bron instead.

Doctor Jack Kerry: Nay, lassie. This wee littl' poor excuse for a man ain't right at all! Now get off yer arse ya old weegie bampot; ya two can do yer hankey pankey somewhere else. We need to go now, so I'm leavin' with or without ya!

And so, just like that, the good doctor turned and left. Ted stood there for a moment, partly still in shock and partly confused as to who this enigmatic gentleman actually was. Bron seemed to know him, but this line of inquiry would have to wait because Ted knew exactly what had to be done and he had to act upon it now. Leaders weren't born, they were made, and Ted was born to be a leader! He picked up the telephone handset and without even looking at the keypad, knowing the combination as well as he did, he dialed the number and winked at Bron with confidence.

Telephone: Your call could not be connected. Please check the num...

Ted quickly reset the phone and dialed again, this time looking at the keypad. He straightened and looked at Bron again, smiling a smile which was quickly erased by another disconcerting shudder and crack of the walls around him.

Telephone: Your call could not be conne...

It wasn't all that common for thoughts to cross Ted's mind but strenuous circumstances were certainly an exception. While producing a small pocketbook from within his trousers, Ted reset the phone again and dialed one digit after another, again, slowly, while confirming each key press with the pocketbook. The handset produced the familiar ringing tone indicating an imminent connection. Another shudder reminded Ted of the fragility of his current situation and the need to feel uneasy, though it pays to note that unease, as such, was not an uncommon feeling for Ted. After several excruciating seconds of patient waiting, the handset crackled and a voice inquired angrily.

Woman: What is it?!?!?
Ted: Hi Michelle, is Ted. You got my support.
Michelle: Oh, what now, Ted?!? [barely audible, palm over handset] Oooooh, yeah. YEAH! That's it... little more.

Ted didn't know what to make of these mixed messages so, as always, he would pause and let the problem solve itself.

Michelle: Hello?!? What do you want, Ted? [palm over handset] Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yyyyyyyesssss!!! Ooooooh.... mmmmm.
Ted: [laughs nervously] The building, that there is walls in cracks.

Michelle: Ted... what the fuck are you on about? Can't you hear that I'm.... OOOOOOOOH GOD! YESSSS! Oh, yes, yes, yes. Give it to me hard!!! Oooooooh.... mmmmmmm. Oh yeah. Now go down on me. GO DOWN! Do it or you're fired!!!

Ted: OK. [hangs up, turns to Bron] Michelle is says "go down".

The message was clear and Ted was relieved that the Melbourne arm of this operation saw it fit to agree with the general consensus that rid this office block of almost all of its occupants. It was time to leave, well and truly, and with Bron holding his hand tight they made their way outside.

---

The reporter paused and looked to the side where a wandering man aimlessly walked about looking up at the building. He motioned to the camera man and together they repositioned.

Reporter: Joining us now is... [points microphone at the man]
Man: [darts nervously] Ted?

Reporter: ... Ted, one of the many brave, heroic survivors of today's tragedy. Where others perished, Ted survived; where many quaked in fear, Ted lead the way; where some were strong, Ted was stronger, mightier, and with super-human force he parted the debris and rubble to allow his brethren passage to safety and freedom!

He addressed the camera as if a revolution was about to take place and for a moment many of the viewers could swear that they heard the sound of marching feet just outside their dwellings. The camera man once again rolled his eyes and exhaled loudly, his head slumping and shaking in tandem.

Reporter: Isn't that right, Ted?
Ted: Melbourne help on that one.

Reporter: [pause, blinks] Clearly, Ted is shaken and confused, and in need of immediate medical attention. But what a hero; what a treasure of a man. [pause] Is there a doctor here???

Camera man: Shhhhhh...
Reporter: Oh, right. Sorry.

Ted: Here, ownership on this one. There Melbourne help on that one.
Reporter: Hold on, Ted. Are you saying that this tragedy has some connection to an organised crime syndicate in Melbourne? Does the plot thicken with dark threads of mystery, deception and perhaps rotten, more sinister motives than those in which we believe?

Ted: Nun returners.

Reporter: Wait a moment, Ted. Are you also suggesting some clandestine connection of today's events to the infinite power and influence of the manipulative and far-reaching tentacles of the catholic church???

Ted: As far as my concern, our job major part not do that one. The team is ownership on this one. Rolls marked.

Reporter: So let me get this straight, Ted. Are you implying that there is a secret underground society with a highly motivated paramilitary arm that is hell-bent on instilling fear, doubt and confusion in order to remove the central government and assume control by means of scattered and arbitrary domestic terrorism?

Ted: Consecutive absence.

Reporter: That's incredible! So what you're essentially saying is that this could very well be the collaborative work of no less than fifteen ex-SAS operatives working under the wing of a locally-based splinter cell of the greater global network controlled by an alliance between the catholic church and the Aurora Corporation in Melbourne?

Ted: [blank stare, uneasy smile]

The reporter's face turned to theatrical stone and with his finest sensationalist over-exuberance, his eyes pierced the camera lens with an uncanny force that made the camera operator take a small step back and compensate with zoom... a lot of zoom in fact because the reporters face was now framed close for maximum dramatic impact. The reporter continued with brows askew.

Reporter: This just in, an incredible development as we learn from an inside source that this attack is but a beginning of a greater campaign aimed at a total destruction of this planet. Our inside man, Ted, deep undercover for the past eighteen months has just informed us that the powers that be may in fact have plans to re-engineer the human genome in order to produce an army of super-soldiers; highly maneuverable and acrobatic close-quarters combat units capable of all the moves from Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat and Tekken, and yes, that includes the fireballs. Here at channel four news, we urge the government to launch a counterstrike as soon as is humanly possible, and to collaborate with other governments of the world to quell the imminent uprising. This is Frankie Pintz, and I am standing outside the... oh SHIT!!!

Still in a daze, Tad barely turned around as the last few screaming people and emergency personnel ran out of the Enlightenment complex before the loudest shudder of them all heralded its subsequent collapse. All six stories fell into a heap of rubble and flaming debris raising a dust cloud to the tune of scattered yells and rapid footsteps as everyone cleared the area where the laws of thermodynamics concluded their fantastic overture. Ted's life had stopped at that moment as everything precious to him laid in ruins... literally. He turned around again and slowly paced away in a random direction, step by little step, making his way against a barrage of people now running back towards the rubble to make sure no one was hurt. The shops were empty and the street was full and just like that, everything that he knew seemed to be in opposition to how it should be, in opposition to the life that he knew up until just a few insignificant moments ago. Everything around him was dull and so he walked... past the record store, past the bank, the trendy food court, a fashion outlet, an electronics retailer where all the television sets were tuned to the same station, channel four, and the same seemingly reputable field reporter, Frankie Pintz, delivered the breaking news.

Frankie Pintz: ... gathered today to discuss a working strategy for what is likely to be the biggest military operation in recorded history. More than seventy five simultaneous attacks all around the world occured approximately thirty minutes ago with accounts and reports of many more still coming in, making this an act of war on a global scale. So far the responsibility has been claimed by several ultra-nationalist groups all around the world but the authorities have good reasons to believe that the group responsible is not among them. There are scattered and largely unverified reports of paramilitary attacks in central Europe, south-east Asia and Australia with several international news networks reporting armies of, and I quote, "super-human infantry" with at least one account of a singular combat unit, and I quote, "made entirely of machine guns". Yusef Gelsohn Ashish, one of the parties claiming responsibility, has been detained several days ago and is now being questioned by the authorities...

TED: Episode V - Knowledge of Self

2009-06-16T00:00:00.000-07:00

TED: Episode V - Knowledge of Self

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

---

Hello again faithful readers! It looks like Ted has survived another day. Yes, you may rejoice and carry on with that party you threw ad-hoc, but by doing so you will ignore the plain and simple fact that this was but the first day in Ted's hapless fight for deliverance. Also, it looks like the god that was to the sacred, missing piece of his heart may not be the one he is expecting. Why? Because the votes are in and it turns out that it is Shiva, the Indian god of destruction that is the one, true master of the universe. You may think that the primary subject of this story, a marionette-like caricature of some disembodied life suspended on the strings of stupidity and self-righteousness, is but a construct of my feeble imagination. What you may be shocked to learn is that people like that actually exist. What is worse is that those people probably hold positions much higher and of greater importance than your own. "Why is that, The Jamo?" - you ask me with an honest look of concern as you patiently wait for your husband to finally decide on the color of his new tie. The answer is patently simple. In this world of thoughtlessness and a resultant rise in authoritarian leaderships, those who do not think, leave their brains at home and simply follow orders are the ones who will eventually supersede you and the others who question and challenge. Seldom does this work the other way around and with a corporate body geared exclusively to amass copious amounts of money, is it any wonder why it's high school dropouts and idiots that get jobs while university graduates can barely pay rent? You can answer that yourself, and you may wonder still how it is that your intellect can be made to work against you. You may contemplate that indeed, or you can just sit back, get a hot beverage and enjoy the story. After all, I may not get you a job, but I will paint you a picture of the sort of thing you'd face if you ever got one. Would you like to re-write that resume? Ha. I thought so.

The Jamo

---

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

The bright lights inside the office, though artificial and cold, are in stark contrast to the foreboding and gloomy atmosphere of the winter weather outside on this ordinary Friday morning. They would not warm his body, but they will warm his soul, and he knows this the moment he steps into the office. Most are unaware of this, but fluorescent lights imperceptibly flicker as they consistently turn on and off approximately fifty times every second, and the very idea of it may drive a sane man completely mad, but to Ted, who is completely unaware of this somewhat disturbing fact, this is heaven. Purportedly, what you don't know cannot hurt you, and should you be completely unaware of the struggle your eyes face for eight hours at a time whilst bathed in flickering artificial light, you will, likewise, naturally assume that the exhaustion at the day's end is but a function of your tireless efforts to make this world a better place. Ted knows this because, convinced as he is that the ensuing problems are the devil's work, the day may begin with hardships but ultimately will succumb to the will of the almighty.

With proud, over-exuberant strides, he crosses the threshold and proceeds towards his desk. Unbeknown to most, Ted deems his desk a command centre of sorts as he frequently fancies himself a commander in an eternal war against... well, who could ever be sure? What he is sure of, is that there obviously is no other man more fit for this position than he is. He remembers the application process well, when upon seeing an ad in the Saturday paper, he folded in three another copy of his curriculum vitae and mailed it post haste to the human resources manager. It was a "gamble" to be sure, especially given his work history. And then it happened, and like an avalanche it tumbled down from the mountain top down onto his head; the unexpected telephone call, the frantic prayer for help, the dreaded interview and the signing of the contract that lay a clear-cut path before him. The transformation was suddenly complete and he became a data entry officer. He didn't know why they had given him a military ranking, but he welcomed the change as well as the challenge and so the fantasy was born. Now a commander, promoted swiftly after a few short months of grueling service, he would often laugh at the similarity between words like "office" and "officer", wondering what imbecile came up with such similar terms for two such diametrically opposite concepts. He would never say it though as he preferred to keep his thoughts to himself, knowing that, should he be challenged to explain his reasoning, Baphomet and his spawn may impede the stoic voice of his sentient thought.

All throughout the ensuing contemplation, reminiscence and retrospection, Ted finds himself on auto-pilot and shortly thereafter ends up sitting behind his desk, ready. His computer is on and now scrolls through indecipherable text and numbers, mocking him with the obvious evil flowing through its copper veins. His office phone is waiting too; patiently and unobtrusively. He knows first hand how tough it is to be a commander, to lead his platoon into battle, and if he can get a head start, then that is what he will do. He glances at the clock; it's 8:41. Surely, if his team was committed enough, they would be here by now, eager to continue the work that they have started. Ted knows well that the lord works in mysterious ways and he often works directly though his followers who may carry out specific tasks when the good lord has other, more important engagements at hand. Ordinary, average people are often compelled by an entirely different spirit, but the spirit now guiding Ted is nothing that some ungodly plebeian would understand or venture to fathom. His mission is holy and his own will expendable. He is now in front of the clock and, taking a quick glance towards the door, he takes the chronograph off the hook and quickly pushes it twenty minutes forward. For all intensive purposes it is now 9:01. Ted promptly returns to his seat and carefully types his user name and password into the computer.

Within moments, a shuffle of footsteps can be heard as Bron enters the office and, as if struck by a bolt of providence, looks at the clock.

Bron: Ooooh, I've made it just in time.

She smiles and looks at Ted who, now uncomfortable, pretends that the events of the day before never took place. Likewise, she appears to be completely unphased by the dramatic cadence that adorned such an explosive end to the final act of this infernal comedy just a day prior. She sets her belongings down on the desk and takes a seat.

Bron: How are you, Ted?
Ted: [dejectedly] Pickles. [shrugs]
Bron: Oh, don't be such a prickly pear. It's another beautiful day. I heard you've got a meeting with a man from immigration.

Ted's eyes widen. Meeting? Man from immigration? Surely she is wrong, but almost immediately Ted recalls a telephone call from the day before. Indeed, there was a man claiming to be from immigration who wanted to discuss things; students with poor academic performances, record-keeping procedures. He can feel a drop of cold sweat slowly trickle down his forehead. Could this be another trick from the hands of the trickster? It was difficult to gauge, and as ill-prepared as he was, Ted knows that the best course of action is to let the pieces fall as they may and deal with the aftermath when it actually comes; cross the bridge when he gets to it, as it were.

Oskmeister: Hi Ted.
The Britisher: Hey Ted.

The two greetings take Ted by surprise, but within a moment's notice he recomposes himself; a stellar effort matched only by the rigidity of his artificial smile. The two men look strange and alien to him. One is a tall, thin, stick-like fellow with olive skin and robust eyebrows with a wicked smile full of blocky white teeth; the other, a man of slightly shorter stature and an even thinner frame with the most peculiar accent and an irregular step that fiercely tears across the floor, a cup of hot coffee in between two cold, skeletal hands. Ted knows that he has been working with them for close to a year now, but try as he might, he cannot get used to their presence. Something about them seems disturbing, wrong even. It is almost as if they're not all human, as if they were infected by the other two spawn of darkness, hell-bent on continuing their reign by means of covert infiltration. Many a time Ted would try to appear amicable towards these "colleagues", so callously forced upon him by upper management, but not even the humble offer of franchise coffee and good lunchtime conversation would soften the hearts of those two souls. As they make their way to their desks, the two men continue their pending conversation.

Oskmeister: ... and then he tells me that it wasn't him, so I did the only thing that was appropriate.
The Britisher: You mean you hung him by his ankle from the ceiling on a piano string and set fire to his hair?
Oskmeister: No, but you're close. I dug my hand into his chest and pulled his heart out.
The Britisher: Just like that, with your fingers?
Oskmeister: Yeah, of course. I'm a traditionalist, you know me.
The Britisher: What did you do then? Did you eat it or did you throw it amidst a group of Catholic school children?
Oskmeister: Close again. I squeezed it, drank the blood, then set it on fire and performed the black moon dance.
The Britisher: I like your style... [smile, pause] but don't you need five goats and a waxen pentagram on the floor to do that?
Oskmeister: The girl I'm dating was over the night before so it was all there already.
The Britisher: Ah, that's right. Is she the one with no pulse?
Oskmeister: No, you're thinking of Raven. That was Lillith. Were were making love on a pile of blood-soaked bibles.
The Britisher: Oooooh. The forbidden pleasure.
Oskmeister and The Britisher: [laugh manically]

Ted is waiting for his moment, but not in his wildest dreams can he foresee this sort of development. Ted is waiting for his moment because, as the clock moves into three minutes past the hour, he knows that this is the time to act upon the lord's divine plan. However, he cannot and as he listens to the conversation continue and develop, the nightmarish imagery conjured by the soulless words is more than he can endure. He closes his eyes and violently shakes his head; drops of cold sweat sprinkle around him. Suddenly, there is silence and Ted, with his eyes still closed tightly, can feel the good lord's divine grace wash over him. Once again, the omniscient god had warned him of the evil lurking within those you may suspect the least, and has again transported him back in time so that he may make better decisions, better choices and as the commander responsible for his platoon, lead them safely across the treacherous spiritual battlefield full of infidels and the many spawn of darkness. With confidence now, Ted opens his eyes so that they reveal a new playing field, one tilted and geared in his favour, but alas this is not what he finds.

Everyone stares quizzically in his direction; Bron - his lifeline and moral support, Oskmeister and The Britisher - the enigmatic brothers aligned with an impure power, Vespa and Lambretta - the two data entry girls, and a tall, lanky man with a large balloon-like balding head donning a pair of glasses with a stern, sharp, albeit old face, an immaculate business suit and an attache case within firm grasp between his side and upper arm. Bron is the first to speak.

Bron: Ted, are you alright?

Ted turns to run and disappears quickly as he makes his way down the corridor outside, tripping on his own untied shoelace and momentarily scrambling on the ground.

Bron: [nervous laughter] Oh, it's alright, he probably forgot something, or perhaps there's a message waiting for him at reception.
Man: Perhaps. [smiles coolly]

The mans voice is deep and resonant with impeccable diction and a manner that immediately commands respect and a degree of distance.

Bron: Please, have a seat, mister...?
Man: Fawkner; Chauncey Fawkner.
Bron: Of course, Mr. Fawkner.

Bron does her best to hide the unease and gestures to the chair situated conveniently in front of Ted's desk. Chauncey Fawkner, a perfect gentleman, accepts her offer and promptly sits awaiting Ted's return with steely silence and calm. Bron returns to her seat and all other parties turn back to their computer screens.

Faint footsteps from outside give away an approaching party easily, but it is easier still for men like Chauncey Fawkner whose acute senses and sharp reflexes are what set him apart from other, less gifted immigration personnel. The study of the human condition, the various drives and inhibitions, limits and aspirations that propel any given man to break all manner of federal immigration laws were what Chauncey Fawkner devoted his life to, setting course across a battlefield that many were never cut out for. He could read a man like a book, like a glass sculpture, being able to see straight through into the underlying truth and make the sort of decisions that would often tread the line between war and peace. Now, at the age of 63, Chauncey Fawkner had settled for a less glamorous position as, just like every other man of similar age, he had to admit that time had finally caught up with him. Once upon a time he was a heck of an immigration agent, revered by his peers, colleagues, the department and often many influential government officials and figures. The many successful assignments and undercover campaigns under his belt were testament to the fact that, unlike those who simply did their job and went home to their families, Chauncey Fawkner would live and breathe his job each and ever moment of his life, leaving no room for family, children, wives or lovers. Despite and contrary to this seemingly cold and unemotional existence, Chauncey Fawkner lived a life of passion and his trials and frequent triumphs garnered him an unofficial title of a national hero. Then, one day, those days were suddenly behind him and having relinquished his position at the apex of success, allowing younger blood to continue his legacy, he settled for the proverbial second fiddle, a life of less stress that even though nowhere near as action-packed, according to him, was just as intellectually fulfilling. He doesn't know this yet, but this would be true on any day... any day other than today, that is.

Faint footsteps from outside give away an approaching party easily, and so they do once again this time around as most of the office personnel awaits Ted's return, wondering who in blazes the mysterious gentleman waiting for him is. Ted enters the office, now walking calmly with a plastic cup in his hand. His eyes zero in on Chauncey Fawkner as if seeing him for the first time, no doubt previously hoping that the mysterious man was but a figment of his imagination. No such luck is bestowed upon him now, however, and his shoulders slump almost imperceptibly as he accepts his fate so early in the morning, daring to dread the rest of the day ahead. Chauncey Fawkner's cold, razor-sharp eyes track Ted for a moment and a cool smile escapes his lips as Ted maneuvers awkwardly to his seat behind the command centre that is his desk. Bron darts momentarily in Ted's direction with a look of concern. Chauncey Fawkner, with his unmatched poker face, quietly records every nuance and interplay that constitutes the traffic of this bizarre stage. Ted sits, and with resignation now masked by another fake smile and a feigned sense of propriety and enthusiasm, he assumes readiness. Chauncey Fawkner is the first to to serve, and so he begins.

Chauncey Fawkner: Good morning mister...

Immediately he is interrupted.

Ted: Ted.
Chauncey Fawkner: ... mister Ted. [nods in accordance]
Ted: Just Ted.
Chauncey Fawkner: Right, well as per our conversation yesterday, I am here to review your record-keeping procedures.
Ted: Procedures... yes.
Chauncey Fawkner: Indeed; this is, however, only my 'official' imperative. My subordinates, who are waiting just outside this office, will be very grateful to you should you make available some able hands and minds so that we may conduct our business quickly and efficiently. We wish not to outstay our welcome, not to mention that, as my men attend to all things procedural, you and I have more important issues to addres.

Ted looks slightly confused but immediately masks his face with another, slightly contorted smile. He darts at Bron. As if struck by a current of no less than a million volts, Bron straightens her posture and turns to Chauncey Fawkner.

Bron: Absolutely, mister Fawkner. Those two gentlemen over there will be glad to assist you.

As she points towards Oskmeister and The Britisher who are now intently watching the spectacle before them, Chauncey Fawkner motions to the two business-suit-clad men now entering the office. Like a pair of ruthless mercenaries, the pair of government agents proceed towards their designated target. Chauncey Fawkner lets another cool smile escape his face and turns back to Ted, only to see the fake confidence awash with beads of cold sweat now glistening on his forehead.

Chauncey Fawkner: Now; seeing as all other matters are being attended to, we may move on and address the more pertinent problem.

Ted does not say a thing and instead quickly darts towards Bron.

Bron: Absolutely, mister Fawkner. We will be glad to cooperate in any way we can.
Chauncey Fawkner: I'm sorry miss...

Again, he is interrupted.

Ted: Bron.
Chauncey Fawkner: ... miss Bron. Thank you for the offer, but right now I wish only for the cooperation of mister...
Bron: Ted.
Chauncey Fawkner: [exhales loudly] Yes... mister Ted. [turns to Ted]

It may not be easy being green, but being Ted is another matter altogether. Dart as he may, Chauncey Fawkner had effectively severed all means of communication with Bron, his lifeline. This Fawkner guy was truly a product of a much greater evil than Ted had originally anticipated. This was it... Ted had to fend for himself and so he braced himself for the inevitable, hoping against hope that the good lord will cut this meeting short. Any means will do! A heart attack, grievous bodily harm, an act of terror, an explosion, senseless wanton destruction... ANYTHING!

Chauncey Fawkner: Now, over at the Department of Immigration, we run a tight ship. Unlike 'some' institutes, we do not have problems with filing or record-keeping or any other mindless day-to-day tasks and minutia. My department runs like a well-oiled machine and that very manner of efficiency allows me insight into some very curious... predicaments. My innate need for truth and accuracy notwithstanding, I am often surprised at the number of people, especially from your particular establishment, who live in this country of ours on visas that have been...
Ted: [contorts face]
Chauncey Fawkner: [leans in, whispers] ... terminated!

Ted's eyes widen, and Chauncey Fawkner straightens his posture again and clears his throat.

Chauncey Fawkner: Nothing pains me more than to see the poor souls looking for deliverance get shipped off back to the crisis-plagued infernos from which they came... but difficult decisions have to be made in spite of any financial gain that certain institutes may see fitting their particular agendas [!]. Having been subjected to this establishment's particular flavour of the proverbial buck-passing, I have finally ascertained that it is this very office that may hold the key to these... vicissitudes. Even though I vehemently believe the number of the anomalies in question far outweighs your current capacity to investigate, one particular case is of great interest to me as it is one of the most elusive nature.

Here, Chauncey Fawkner opens his attache and produces a few paper documents. Without breaking eye contact, he places them on the desk in front of Ted

Chauncey Fawkner: Kamal Arora Deshpande. She is 25 years old, a former resident of New Delhi, India; she settled here last year on a student visa upon the authority of which she was expected to study at this 'academic' institute.

Ted peruses the papers even though they lay in front of him the wrong way around.

Chauncey Fawkner: Presumably unbeknownst to you, she never commenced her studies and was deemed in absentia up until the inevitable expiration of her visa at which time your institute chose to conveniently forget this blatant breach of protocol. But over at the Department of Immigration we don't forget so easily. Unfortunately for us, your filing and record-keeping system is a mess of artistic proportions; I should think twice before I even dare to call it a 'system'. Serendipitously, miss Deshpande, clever as she has proven herself to be, has utilised the versimilitude of your non-existent capacity for accuracy to render herself imprevious to the most consistent and hard-hitting search effort my department has ever organised. It is but a matter of logic and thus a matter of reasonable certainty that miss Deshpande is operating under false credentials, under a false name and, in order to make ends meet, quite possibly under an employer who has not disclosed the details of her work engagement to us or any other government department. You may very well wonder why the Department of Immigration would invest so much time and resource into a single illegal immigrant.

Ted offers only a blank stare.

Chauncey Fawkner: The answer is: principle. Of course, there is always the allure of a challenge, too... not to mention that, in the current political climate, the global state of fear, it takes but one seemingly irrelevant anomaly to buckle the great empire at its knees and send it tumbling down, back to the dawn of time. Wouldn't you agree?

Ted is ready to agree with anything at any time... but the consistent and frequently recurring problem is that he seldom understands what is being said to him. This, in turn, makes it difficult to agree, since an acceptance of even the ill-comprehended terms often leads to more questions which often cannot be answered with a simple, absent "yes" or "no". In times like these, there is but one sure-fire way to make this problem go away, and if nothing else, Ted is a master at deploying this practiced weapon that protected his dignity countless times. The method is simple to the very core: a lukewarm smile, a jittery, somewhat forced laugh and a slight shaking of the head. When mixed in equal proportions and executed in tandem the result is nothing short of a euphoric liberation, and so, with sweating palms, Ted contorted his face accordingly and delivered the cheap emotional response, hoping that this would mark an end of this grueling interrogation.

And marking an end it did as Ted's solemn prayers are again answered. The building shakes violently and the lights momentarily flickered on and off. The roar of vibrating concrete walls and breaking glass rips through the entire floor and resonates, lingers for a few moments still as muffled screams of terror and surprise emanate from beyond the office as well as in Ted's immediate vicinity. The tremor is violent enough to knock several people, including the immigration officer, off their chairs, now left sitting on the floor in shock. No one knows what is happening, but suddenly nothing matters as everyone is eager to evacuate. Then, out of nowhere, just like the first time, another violent tremor shakes the building; cracks in otherwise solid concrete walls now apparent and disconcerting. For now it doesn't matter what it is that so abruptly distorted the collective sense of safety and tranquility. It is clear to all that the time had come to leave.

TED: Episode IV - Mucho Peso

2009-05-29T01:37:00.000-07:00

TED: Episode IV - Mucho Peso

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

---

Hail to you, oh humble readers! The Jamo returns once again to bring you more stories about people who don't exist. And why would I write about people like that? Well, if I had the minerals to satirise real people who could very well be tipped off about this particular web log, I could face serious repercussions; possibly a vendetta, a retribution and all manner of ill, all equal in mass and electrical charge to the disapproval of those who choose to take life a little too seriously. So, in order to avoid those serious consequences and protect my squeaky-clean image, I have decided that basing the story on fiction characters is the best way to go. That way you can spread the love to all your friends and work colleagues knowing that fire and brimstone will not rain down upon me. And who knows, maybe your friends will get a bigger kick out of this than you originally thought possible. Maybe there are those at your workplace who resemble these story characters in some way. Maybe, by some freaky chance, I got their names right too. Stranger things happen all the time.

Anyway, you have voted and your voices have been heard. Interestingly, you want Ted to "ask his maid, Clarice, for advice", and so the story will continue as it should. I can promise no Hollywood endings, but I will promise the best satire of daily minutia that I am capable of. So without further ado, let's get to it.

The Jamo

---

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Ted seldom knew what to do in this situation as it was a recurring pattern in the fabric of their lives. He briefly glances outside through the window and sees the full moon rise from behind the trees. This day was strange and he can remember with minute detail every instance of narrowly avoiding a disaster. His wife must never know about what happened and he must avoid it at all cost. There was only one thing to do in preparation for tomorrow... this would be the same thing he always did.

After a hard day at the office with people asking him all manner of incomprehensible things, Ted felt exhausted. Surely, there must be an easier way of dealing with people at the office, standing up to the many challenges set before him. Questions, emails, telephone calls, meetings, an endless barrage of queries from the many people who crossed the threshold of the inner sanctum that was his office... his kingdom, a fertile piece of land that was rightfully his and, by the grace of the good lord, finally free of the demonic struggle between him and... those monsters; Mephistopheles incarnate, to be sure.

There were two of them, in fact. He could picture his face still, distorted with manic laughter; he could feel her piercing eyes smoldering from afar, black like two pieces of coal scooped from the floor of hell itself, glancing at him periodically from across the office. The singing of heathen songs, randomly exclaiming victory over things invisible and conferring with each other; an enigmatic, menacing man with gravity-defying hair and the most peculiar accent, and a treacherous woman with dark skin and a gaze that seared the retinas in the back of his eyes. Their modus operandi was to outsmart him at every opportunity and their tricks were impossible to fathom; too efficient, too perfect for any mortal to conjure, too attractive and pain-free, swaying others to their side and away from Ted. Those two were the spawn of the same dark power, Ted was sure. The monsters were good at their jobs... too good, in fact, and Ted could hardly stand the constant threat. There was tension, and Ted knew from the beginning that the lord sent these... these things his way to test him and his faith. Confrontations with the monsters always left Ted shivering, excusing himself sometimes for hours at a time to quietly sit in a toilet stall and recompose himself. How could the devil hold so much power over one man and one woman and not destroy them in the process? Ted would never know, but he accepted his fate as ordained by the god almighty. After many, many run-ins, challenges, saber-toothed battles and Ted's unwavering belief in a better tomorrow, the beasts were banished, having failed to conquer and destroy this garden of Eden. Since then, God would only reward Ted with an inexhaustible flurry of opportunities and able, non-threatening co-workers who accepted him and his word as the status quo. Life appeared to be good at long last, but the lord, in his infinite wisdom, would soon challenge Ted again... and so it happened; today, when Ted had least expected it.

Now, staring blankly at Minerva's face, Ted awakes from his transient daydream only to see Minerva get up and leave with a sense of resignation. He cannot argue; she is right, and he hates himself for it. He takes solace in knowing that Minerva will soon forget this insignificant trespass and allow him a chance to redeem himself.

There is something he was supposed to do. Oh, but of course!

After a year of diligent service, Clarice, the maid, knows Ted's family like no one else. Having escaped the treacherous clutches of a New Delhi people-smuggling ring, her dream of living a peaceful life away from the constant pursuit and evasion was afforded by this job. She loved her work since, apart from the usual routine of regular up-keep, her unassuming position within the household hierarchy afforded her many interesting opportunities. Even the children, Paddington and Gretchen, were not a big problem as they seemed to be partial to her even at the worst of times. It is also worthy of note that Clarice is not Clarice's real name but rather a pseudonym she assumed after her daring escape from her captors. Growing up in rural India was difficult enough and having amassed the money necessary to start a new life, at age 24 she took a chance at New Delhi, the closest big city that would serve as a platform for her dreams. Unfortunately, having never been exposed to the darker realities of life, she did not think twice before entrusting someone she should not have with everything she had. Only by chance she managed to evade being sold and smuggled, and through serendipitous happenstance landed here, in this city, where she could begin her life again. Assuming a different name, she found this job and quickly amalgamated with what she thought was a normal western family. Ted's turbulent relationship with his wife would often lead him to confide in her and though she didn't always understand what on earth he was talking about, she knew that just listening to him put his heart at ease and in the process, secured her job for as long as she needed it. Of course, she has other, loftier plans, but Ted and his family will never know. As another day comes to an inevitable end, she is tidying the kitchen as the door swings open to reveal Ted.

Clarice darts and smiles as Ted reciprocates the gesture and greets her.

Ted: I bring good.
Clarice: Hi mister Theodore.

Her Indian accent is unmistakable, as is her appearance with kind dark eyes and black hair tied in a pony tail, a slender figure and a cool manner that, without a hint of conceit, commanded a sense of profound philosophical clarity beyond her years. Ted walks in and finds a seat on a bar stool behind the central kitchen workbench. He is now facing Clarice at an angle and briefly watches her as she puts things away.

Ted: Is you or me?
Clarice: Sure, mister Theodore. What's on your mind?
Ted: Prawns.
Clarice: Your food will be ready in a moment.
Ted: [with resignation] No, hungry not is me I will work it then, yes?
Clarice: Yes, mister Theodore. [pause] You look troubled. Is something the matter?

Suddenly, through the other kitchen door at the opposite end, a plump, well fed, nine-year-old boy in a G.I. Joe t-shirt marches in with a doughnut in his hand; the chocolate topping and sprinkles adorning the perimeter of his mouth.

Paddington: [chewing on food] Hi dad.

He proceeds towards the fridge, opens the door, takes an unopened two-litre carton of full-cream milk, breaks the seal and with the doughnut still in the other hand, he begins to chug away at the contents straight through the spout. Ted and Clarice watch with candid fascination as the boy rounds off half the carton, puts it down on the bench, wipes the excess from his mouth with his sleeve, replaces the cap on the carton and puts it back in the fridge. The chocolate is now smudged across his face. He looks at Clarice.

Paddington: The dinner was splendid, Clarice. Never before have I been privy to this degree of exemplary culinary mastery, the likes of which you have exhibited today. You certainly have a penchant for surprise and I, for one, am thoroughly impressed [takes a bite of doughnut, chews]. I shall ask my mother dearest to give you a raise and allow you an upgrade in accommodation by letting you transfer to the bigger room on the third floor.
Clarice: Thank you, master Paddington, but that won't be necess...
Paddington: Pish-posh! [gestures, takes another bite] It IS necessary and it shall be so. [pause] How was work, dad?

Ted, now facing yet another question, only manages to return a blank stare as he observes Paddington march across the kitchen to the pantry. He opens the doors and briefly scans the contents. Immediately he turns and picks up a large table spoon from the dish rack and stuffs the rest of the doughnut into his mouth. With his free hand, he produces a jar of solidified ghee from the pantry; he opens it, spoons out a generous amount and promptly consumes it. Ted and Clarice watch with bewilderment painted plainly across their respective faces. Paddington grunts and nods, and after five spoonfuls, he puts the jar away. He washes the spoon, puts it back on the dish rack and picks up another doughnut from a box on the central bench. He leaves through the same door.

Clarice: Mister Theodore, you were saying?
Ted: Uh... [pause] is another, the same as...

Suddenly, through another kitchen door, a thin, unassuming seven-year-old girl with two platted pig-tails of dark hair, dressed in a pink dress and really thick goggle-like glasses walks in and approaches Ted in tiny little steps. She peers through the spectacles and extends her neck. Her eyes are distorted and enlarged through the lenses and Ted, with a mixture of horror and curiosity now contorting his visage, peers back and leans down towards her. There's an uneasy pause. Her voice is as thin as a sheet of paper... almost a whisper.

Gretchen: Hi Clarice. Thank you for helping me with my homework. I really appreciate it.

Ted didn't know what to do and so Clarice was the first one to speak.

Clarice: Gretchen, sweetheart, I'm over here.

Gretchen's head turned quickly towards Clarice and then back towards Ted, now peering again.

Gretchen: I'm sorry, mother.

She turns around and with tiny little steps she walks around the bench towards Clarice. Gretchen gives her a hug and Clarice plants a tiny kiss on her forehead. The little girl reiterates her words of gratitude and then asks Clarice if she can have three cubes of sugar to feed to the horses. Clarice produced the sugar, gives it to Gretchen and strokes her hair as she turns around and leaves through the same door.

Clarice: Mister Theodore, you should tell me what troubles you.

Ted is tired and issues of the heart weigh heavily upon him.

Ted: I see naked office is woman there. Black and white?

Suddenly, Ted's cellular telephone comes to life within the confines of his pocket, startling both him and Clarice half to death. A phone call? At this time of the day? He digs into his pocket to produce the telephone and upon a press of a button he presses it against his ear.

Ted: Hello, pancakes.
Voice: Hello, my name is Rudyard Kipling and I'm calling you in regards to the position advertised in today's paper.
Ted: Position? What is position paper?
Rudyard: The position advertised was for... [pause, shuffles paper] Attendance Coordinator. It says here in the ad that the guy they have there now is a real asshat, so they need someone else really quickly.
Ted: It now? I is coordinator for when. Outrage!
Rudyard: Yes, it also has a picture of him here with a big red cross on his face, you know... like he's being deleted or something. It's got the words "we don't need him" underneath.
Ted: True?
Rudyard: Indeed; the ad takes a whole newspaper page. It's HUGE! So, when can I get an interview?
Ted: Is your name where?
Rudyard: It's Kipling... Rudyard Kipling. You may have heard of me once or twice.
Ted: No, I not then where hearing.
Rudyard: Oh, well... nevermind.
Ted: I is call then you if interview on then. Right?
Rudyard: Yes. Thank you. I'll wait for your call.

Ted hangs up the telephone an sets it down on the bench before him. This was an exhausting day and he finds Clarice staring at him questioningly. Ted shakes his head and gets up, only moments later realising that he did not get to talk with Clarice at all. But this is not a time for this sort of conversation; it would have to wait. The devil, it seems is throwing another curved ball towards Ted and only with the help of the lord will he be able to deflect it. He will have to face the next day with little preparation. As he lay in bed, trying to fall asleep, a question gnawed at him more and more intensely: what challenge will he face tomorrow? It was impossible to tell and so he drifted away from the lucid reality and into the arms of the angels of sleep.

---

Which god will help Ted along tomorrow?

Cast your votes now!

Use the live voting line in the top-left corner of this page to vote for your desired continuation. Remember, you can vote for one or multiple continuations; it's up to you! If you wish to submit your own continuation, simply leave a comment under the latest episode. Anyone can use the live voting line, so get in on the action and tell your friends about it too!!!

TED: Episode III - Tunnel Vision

2009-05-13T22:17:00.000-07:00

TED: Episode III - Tunnel Vision

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

---

Hello readers! You will often hear the saying: "with friends like these, who needs enemies", and though I should have learnt all I need to know about enemies through years upon years of burning perfectly good bridges, the most important thing I have found is that a person who becomes an enemy had absolutely no potential of ever being a true friend. Reasons for that will, of course, vary, but one thing is for sure... this story is a product of yet another bridge-burning operation; one that has made me think, wonder, explore, fight and of course piss a lot of people off. Such is life. After all, what would we be like if we just plodded along, listened to everyone and never questioned, had no opinions or points of view or never stood for anything? The answer is that we'd be just like Ted; the 100% fictitious character from this story.

So, the votes have been tallied and the lines are now closed. This time we've had two votes, and to add to the challenge, two different votes, for that matter. So it's amalgamation time!

The two winning continuations are:

A: Bron naked

... and

F: Ted opens his eyes and sees Bron, looking at him incredulously. Ted grabs his jacket and rushes out of the office mumbling something incomprehensible. When his wife comes home Ted is already there, brimming with guilt. A domestic scene of some kind ensues.

It looks like Ted is in for a surprise then, which is nothing special since just about anything can surprise Ted.

The Jamo

---

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Ted cannot take it any more. As a godly man, he must resist temptation, which may make the reader wonder how it is that he ever fathered any children. This is, however, a different story and her clear-cut signals are now impossible to ignore. In a sudden involuntary lapse, his knee-jerk reaction is to fall back on prayer, and so with eyes closed, he asks the good lord to guide him through these treacherous waters of self-indulgence and raw uncensored passion.

Ted [praying inside his head]: Oh holy father, blessed be the airplane, on Mars as it is on Pluto. Thy kingdom some to ham be done, in college as it's number seven. Give us this stick and googly strain, and fraught noon us our impasse as we look forward those who burn in hell, deaf man. Lead Marco Polo not into temporary pulpit addendum, but deliver us from ourselves. For thine is the swine and the slime. Kingdom is dead, and the power I forgot to pay, and the glory intersection fan, for ever and tonight. Amonite.

In his heart of hearts, Ted knew that only the most honest of all prayers will deliver him from temptation. Many would wonder, sometimes for the duration of their pitiful lives, what is the right way to pray to god. Is there a right way? Could there ever be a wrong way of communicating with an entity that, presumably, is everywhere and apparently reads our thoughts anyway? And in that case, what would be the point? Thinkers, philosophers and intellectuals alike would spend countless hours pondering this, writing books and essays, twisting reality this way and that to make the incomprehensible pieces fit. Ted would have none of that, as he knows that thinking this through would only waste valuable time that could be used to send his thoughts across the aether. God wants him to communicate, to talk and share his woes, to dig deep into the underbelly of the human condition and ask the almighty to ease the pain that is but a simple function of our pathetic necessity to feel special. Ted knows that he's special, though; after all, how else would he land a job like this, where he can reign supreme over so many people with a ranking higher than their own? Who knows? The important thing to remember is that he was born to be a leader and with his obvious leadership skills and the fact that he is moving up the corporate ladder, this is yet another clear piece of evidence that he is diligently following god's divine plan.

The time for prayer is over when your heart is at ease, when the violent palpitations cease and allow you to consider rationally the natural state of all things and the reality around you. Nothing is more cleansing than talking to yourself and the catharsis it affords in times of emotional peril can only be measured on an exponential scale with units that are yet to be invented. With a couple of deep breaths, Ted realigns himself with the temporal flux of his earthly vessel and while probing the auditory sculpture oscillating within the inner space of this concrete microcosm called an "office", he prepares to open his eyes. The unusual calm and relative silence around him are messengers of peace as he is convinced that the lord spares those who simply wish to make their own lives a little better, even if it is at the expense of others. After all, isn't that what Jesus would do?

Pointless contemplations aside, Ted opens his eyes and is briefly taken aback by the near darkness with the main fluorescent lights disengaged. What little illumination transcends the void is afforded by the outside corridor lights, his computer monitor, now only displaying a dull factory default screen saver, and a bright green "exit" sign above the back door. Nervously he glances at the clock, but the darkness forbids satisfactory resolution, so in a fit of panic his head takes a dive for his wristwatch. It's 17:56, which makes it 26 minutes after closing! Where did the time go? Perhaps the good lord, by the grace of his omniscience, has taken him on a journey through time, but miscalculated the end-point? It could happen to anyone. Alas, he is not alone, and as much as he'd wish to qualm his animal instincts and pretend that he is a perfect creation, reality often challenges him to that conclusion. He turns and their eyes meet... again.

Darkness can play tricks with your eyes, but this wasn't a trick. Ted quickly scans the form before him; curvaceous and rounded, strangely pale and matte; his eyes widen and the feminine body, partly shrouded in the colors of the dark adjusts it's position. There is flesh... a lot of flesh... a lot of naked flesh!!! His eyes desperately wander from the bottom up on the first leg of his journey, starting at the toes and navigating true north past the calves and onto the shapely thighs that, thankfully, elegantly conceal her nether regions. Though the act lasts a mere fraction of a second, Ted feels time dilating and stretching like a piece of toffee. He circumnavigates her navel across the vast ocean of her stomach and treks further north into the mountainous highlands with bronze peaks devoid of snow. Further north, approaching the magnetic pole, he carefully treads the softness of her neck and climbs the chin to the plateau that is her face. Strangely, only now he realises that this final destination is usually home to scattered vegetation around the watery lakes of the eyes, but he cannot find that here.

Ted: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!!

Every man has his limit, and it just so happens that Ted's limit is right here. By the time the reader should finish this sentence, Ted will already be en route down the corridor, quickly approaching the stairs, unable to wait for the elevator, lest he be pursued by some evil spawn sent after him by the prince of darkness. Indeed, in darkness they spawn and in darkness they dwell. This was but another clear-cut example of just that. As he runs past the plebeians, pushing his way through, he remembers a Sunday school experience from his childhood. He must have been about seven years old then... things were different.

Priest: Ted!
Ted: Priest!
Priest: I'll teach you to be a little smart-ass! [gives chase with cane]

Oh, the agony. The fear he felt all the way back then is the same fear he's feeling now, even though it's there for vastly different reasons. The bus drops him off at the same stop, just like any other day. It's getting dark and he hurries along, knowing that his unusual lateness will raise questions from his wife. What will he tell her? It's not his style to lie, but he cannot tell her the truth. After all, with the looks she has been giving the next door neighbor, the plumber, the roof restoration guy, the gardener and the pool boy, he did not need to give her an excuse to dump his sorry ass. After a brief drive from the bus stop, Ted finally arrives and opens the ostentatious front gates with a quaint little remote control. The front garden looks immaculate and he swings his Audi A6 around the mansion, past the pool and into a triple garage.

Now, readers may ask themselves how it is that a man like Ted can afford all this, but that is a different story and for now, we must concentrate on other things, like Ted's wife who, with arms crossed, is waiting for Ted in the atrium door. Ted exits the car.

Wife: Where have you been, you little weasel?!?
Ted: I'm apologise, bus is later on today for me and him, Minerva.
Minerva: Obviously you don't care about your family or the fact that Clarice has made us dinner... FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO!
Ted: Je suis desole. Happen not I won't make it, then why?
Minerva: It better not happen again, Theodore; you don't want to give me an excuse to dump your sorry ass.
Ted: Minerva, honey... an accidental preset I was in car after then, was it?
Minerva: Are you having an affair, you little cockroach?
Ted: An affair? No! You is woman and she is man... [pause] I am man. Marriage. MARRIAGE!
Minerva: Don't you sweet-talk me, you little scheming rodent!
Ted: [hesitantly] Seven dollars?
Minerva: Get in here and SIT DOWN!

Ted loves Minerva; they have been high school sweethearts since.... well, since high school. Sure, she can be a little grumpy sometimes but, for as long as Ted can remember, there has never been another woman more beautiful... until now. Ted takes his jacket off and situates himself in the dining room chair. Clarice, the maid, is busy preparing his food in the kitchen adjacent. Minerva takes a seat opposite to his and gives him a cold look.

Minerva: Sixteen years of marriage, and you come home twenty minutes late!
Ted: [silence]
Minerva: Tomorrow is our seventeenth anniversary, and what? You'll return an hour late? Maybe you won't come back at all!
Ted: [silence]
Minerva: ... and what would I do? How would I cope? Did you ever think of me?
Ted: [silence]
Minerva: Who is she? You better tell me now!
Ted: Nobody is she. I am marriage.
Minerva: Oh, quit it, Theodore. I can smell her perfume. Your collar is unbuttoned!
Ted: I mean problem...
Minerva: I know who it is!!! It's that woman from your office! It IS, isn't it??!!??
Ted: Minerva, baby... woman is office I know not it's there. Kitchen sink.
Minerva: LIAR!!!! She kept you back and seduced you! She put her arms all over you and stole you away from your loving family... a family that was waiting for you to come back!!!

Cast your votes now!

TED: Episode II - Chosen Lords

2009-05-12T23:05:00.000-07:00

TED: Episode II - Chosen Lords

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

---

Hello humble readers! Did you know that the compound term "choose your own adventure" can also be used as a euphemism for masturbation? Probably not, so be sure to observe the following working example:

Mother: William, where are you going? You haven't finished your dinner!
William: I'm going to my room to choose my own adventure, mom! [slams door in frustration]

And now she probably thinks he's reading... and maybe he is. Who could ever know? However, we shall move onto bigger and better things, because the votes have been tallied and we have a winner for the continuation of the story. There was only one vote and it wasn't particularly clear, but through my powers of deduction I have made a decision.

The winning continuation is: ask Osk for advice.

It looks like things may just get very difficult for Ted. But then again, a story is a living thing, and most of the time it writes itself with little prompting. This is why not even the author really knows what should or could happen to Ted. So here we go... read and shine on, you crazy diamond!

The Jamo

---

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

As her whisper dissipates, she leans down towards Ted. There is an awkward moment as he smiles and takes a quick peek. Oh, what to do? It's tough being a coordinator, having so many women throwing themselves at you, and remaining Christian at the same time. Why did the good lord curse him so? What will he do?

Having asked himself that innumerable times before, Ted knows exactly what needs to be done. Pride must be swallowed, the aura of omniscience subdued, and with his heart on his sleeve, bleeding for the poor lost souls who perished while attempting the very same, he must ask the Oskmeister for advice. It has to be done! There is no other way! This mecca of all pertinent work-related knowledge that is this unassuming man sitting in the corner must be accessed, for it is his duty to submit to the gentle leadership of Ted, under the guidance of the lord almighty and general incompetence. Oh yes, swallow the pride, he reminds himself. He approaches The Oskmeister.

Ted: Oscar man, I know trendy shoes and falafel sandwiches grease fire.
Oskmeister: Yes, Ted? What do you want now? Can't you see I'm writing a macro here!?!
Ted: [nervous laughter] Macro.
Oskmeister: It requires concentration, Ted; concentration and practice! What do you think we're running here; some sort of circus? This is serious stuff, Ted. You can't just barge over here on a whim every time you can't figure something out! Use the Wikipedia, for fuck's sake!!! Stop bothering me with all this fucking nonsense!!!!! Ooooh, I have a problem; ooooh I'm a whiny little bitch with no social skills. Grow the fuck up and join the 21st century, Ted!!!
Ted: Is you or I?
Oskmeister: You know what? Here's fifty cents. Go call someone who gives a shit and let me do my work!!!!!!!!! [pause] Jesus H. fucking Christ nailed to a fucking pole!!!!! Why are you still standing here?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!!??

Ted quickly closes his eyes and shakes his head violently, wishing like he never wished before that this is but a dream, and that reality, in it's purest glory spawned by the hand of the creator himself, is nowhere near as harsh to a believer like him. He opens his eyes and finds himself in his chair. Bron, still bent down and intently staring, is now sporting an expression of concern. Hallelujah! The lord saved him once more and used this vivid day dream to warn him of the dangers of speaking to non-believers.

Bron: Are you alright, Ted?

Is Ted alright? Of course he is! Never before has he glimpsed evidence so clear of the breath-taking power of the lord! The Oskmeister, still tapping away at his terminal, obviously unaware of the profound revelation taking place a mere few metres away, has now turned around, possibly prompted by Bron's rather pertinent-sounding question that, like a white dove of providence gliding above the wide and cold oceans, has reverberated across the office chamber, spreading its acoustic wings and playfully bouncing off various surfaces in accordance with their intrinsic refractive indices.

The lord may have warned him, but he did not forbid contact with non-believers which, as a function of his job, was a daily reality. As sad as it was to see a soul bound for the fires of hell, Ted knew that through his charisma, confidence and problem-solving abilities, he will persevere and possibly win some souls for Jesus in the process. He must stay sharp!

In a burst of confidence and that youthful virility that swept through his system, Ted stands up and, whilst cracking a fairly convincing smile, he proceeds towards the Oskmeister.

Ted: Oscar man, you know? My grandmother. Credit card.
Oskmeister: Hi Ted, what's up?
Ted: I was wonder if you is helpful me now from west to kettle.
Oskmeister: Sure Ted. What do you need help with?
Ted: I is me is you. Freedom for is woman in trousers. I need sugar.
Oskmeister: Oh, so you're not getting any from your wife?
Ted: Shhhhh! Maybe is on. Now chance I find hoses and ice on temple.
Oskmeister: That's pretty kinky, Ted. I don't think we're good enough friends to talk about that.
Ted: Basketball.
Oskmeister: Look, Ted. You have to start solving your own problems by yourself. You can't just keep asking people for help and advice and then pretending that you've come up with the solution. It's dishonest and it makes you look like an ignorant twat. Bite the bullet, Ted. Use that brain for once in your life... try it on for size.
Ted: I'm a dinosaur.
Oskmeister: Don't mention it. I'm glad to help.

There it was again; incontrovertible proof that the lord works in mysterious ways. Sure, he may scare the hibbie-jibbies out of you on an occasion, but other than that, the knowledge that flows through the veins of arbitrary encounters with random believers and non-believers alike is worth more than its weight in gold. The answer to the paradigm laid before him at his feet by the voluptuous female colleague now had an answer that rang true with this earthly realm as well as to his eternal satisfaction. What was the answer? He didn't really know; after all the lord's mysterious answers are a mystery for a reason and to try and decipher the random ramblings of a "computer programmer" [read: work dodging intellectual] was tantamount to heresy as the bible clearly states that "thou shalt not use thine brain"... it's in there somewhere, he's sure.

Upon the return to his seat he reclined, stretching the sore muscles and thereby relieving pent-up tension that was the inevitable byproduct of the hard work he engaged in and his commitment to it. Running a team was no easy task, and required someone who would do whatever it takes to ensure that the said team was happy, productive and most of all, pro-active. He learnt that little gem from Mark, the boss, and he made sure to use the term at every available opportunity. Who cares what it actually means or whether it makes sense in the given context. This, along with many other meaningless words, corporate vernacular and resultant platitudes would make short work of what would otherwise be a dull meeting or a dreaded confrontation. A ringing phone curdled his blood and reinstated the tension that, at least for a fleeting moment, seemed so far away.

Ted: Hello, Ted?
Reception: No, this is Stephanie from reception. I have Mark on the line for you.
Ted: I is.

[click]

Ted: Hello Mark, in and out pro-active, paradigm, office team environment.
Mark: Hi Ted. I'm glad to hear that your team is doing well. You're FIRED! [chilling pause] Hahahahaha... nah, just fuckin' with ya!
Ted: [nervous laughter] You sees someone, far away on skateboard.
Mark: Ted, I'm calling because I need to inform you that immigration is riding my ass again. Apparently you've organised a meeting.
Ted: I can dance.
Mark: Excellent. Let me know how it goes. Also, I have been receiving reports of people being unhappy with your conduct and what they describe as a general level of marginal input, borderline competence and I quote: "insatiable douchebaggery of the highest degree, consistently compounded by asshattery and fuckwittery." But don't worry... I fired all those people so everything is alright. There's no point in firing you and keeping them because you listen and don't ask questions.. and I have no time for solving problems. We're running a school here!!!

[click]

Seldom is a phone call terminated by Ted, and so he utters a quiet sigh of relief knowing that all manner of danger and ungodly character assassination directed at him is once again deflected. Ted is once again comfortable and with the pressure easing ever so slightly, he feels the blood returning to his pale limbs, giving him color and a subtle sense of dominance. It's his job to make people happy no matter what the cost... as long as it doesn't cost him anything.

He turns to Bron again, but pauses. Now beaming with confidence, he observes her for a moment as she becomes the unwitting pawn of his reconnaissance. Bordering on stalker-like behavior, he finds the act of candid observation strangely satisfying and somewhat exciting. Somewhere deep inside he knows that he should stop, but he can't. She types without looking at the keyboard, pausing every now and again. She checks the papers before her, moves them around and then back again; adjusts her seat and posture. The otherwise morbidly dull act of repetitive office work is electrifying and with his mouth now agape he can feels something inside him stirring. He knows that it's wrong... he's got children and a wife, for crying out loud! But this... this is something else. This is one of those things that no one can take away from him. This is the far-away call of his deepest desires. Her gentle caress of the plastic lettered blocks set in a tray, the subtle symphony of wispy, shimmery, perfectly coordinated touches, the delicate strokes and pinches that breathe life into the cheap paper pulp and make its colors scream in ecstasy. The gentle tilt of her hip, the transient furrowed brow; the little hints of a vivacious smile and the deeper contrasting breaths that pound his ear drums with a force that dulls the ambiance around him. He feels intoxicated and ready for anything. She slows down and, having detected his surveillance, she turns to him and with her tongue, she delicately traces her upper lip, following this brief flirtatious interlude with a wink and a wrinkling of her nose.

Ted cannot take it any more. As a godly man, he must resist temptation, which may make the reader wonder how it is that he ever fathered any children. This is, however, a different story and her clear-cut signals are now impossible to ignore. In a sudden involuntary lapse, his knee-jerk reaction is to fall back on prayer, and so with eyes closed, he asks the good lord to guide him through these treacherous waters of self-indulgence and raw uncensored passion.

---

What will Ted find upon opening his eyes?

a. Bron naked
b. The Oskmeister [fully clothed]
c. Mark [possibly naked]
d. God [naked, clothed, who cares?]
e. The bible

OR, for the first time ever...

f. Choose your own continuation

Cast your votes now!

Simply post a response to this web log for The Jamo and tell him where you want the adventure to go. The most popular continuation will be used to continue the story. In an event of a tie, the two [or more] most popular continuations will be amalgamated.

TED: Episode I - A Tenor Saxophone

2009-05-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

TED: Episode I - a Tenor Saxophone

A choose-your-own-adventure type tale.

Written and painstakingly satirised by The Jamo

DISCLAIMER: All characters appearing in this documentary account are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

---

Ted and Bron live simple lives and can usually be found sitting in an office devoid of natural light. Once in a while someone passes through on their way in or out and Ted takes a nervous glance away from his computer screen, thanking his lucky stars each time, knowing that it could have been Mark or worse still, that weirdo The Jamo. However, most of the time it's either Oskmeister or Jared the Britisher. Neither one of them pose a significant threat.

Ted [typing]: Dear Mark. As per your insignificant frequent flyer points to word example is what you and me yo-yo tenor saxophone. Deficit umbrella photogenic and barrel distortion, my keys are rust proof and I will have a coffee in fire hydrant. Is it? Formula! One flew over a compressed newspaper with what he and she interpolated with chopsticks. Hope you is bicycle. Regards, Ted. [SEND]

He wipes the drops of sweat from his brow and silently congratulates himself on a job well done. Who else could possibly send so many emails to Mark every day and make his complete idleness and ignorance look like such convincing "work"? Nobody! This is what he knows, and he knows this because...

Suddenly he darts past his screen again, detecting activity that may be harmful to this blissful state of well-being that he so carefully maintained through biblical prayer, morale-boosting slogans, self-help books and a healthy dose of lying. Alas, it's no one dangerous, but a strange feeling washes over him and weighs down on his shoulders like a blanket soaked in warm water as a fleeting contact between her eyes and his is disrupted by her smile and a reassuring nod. Bron trots away and his gaze follows her briefly until she disappears through the door frame.

Ted [thinking]: Why Hungarian salami with collector cards and derelict housing Japan? This not! I am five dollars!

He thinks about it more, but realises that he lost himself somewhere and that, at least as far as his life goes to show, thinking about things never really achieved anything. He glances at the clock; it's nearly time for lunch... well, its about 15 minutes to go, but seeing as he is now a coordinator, he deserves longer lunches. His ponderings are disrupted by a phone call.

Ted: Hello, figure skating.
Reception: Hi Ted, this is Stephanie from reception. There is a Chauncey Fawkner from Immigration on the line for you.
Ted: Second guessing is hexadecimal.
Reception: Thanks, Ted.

[click]

Ted: Hello, is I am you, for me... no? You is!
Chauncey: Ehrmmm... hello. My name is Chauncey Fawkner. I'm calling you in regards to some disturbing trends concerning students with poor academic records and consequent expired visas.
Ted: This is outrage in boxes! My name is Ted. Is this correct? No. TEN DOLLARS!
Chauncey: Ummmm... OK, Ted. I would like to visit you as some stage to review your record-keeping practices and perhaps improve the already dire state of affairs between our respective institutions.
Ted: Chewing gum.
Chauncey: Alright. I'll see you on Friday then.

[click]

Ted is satisfied with the way he appeased the immigration officer and made him comfortable with... whatever he was talking about. He has learnt that the job is not so much about understanding what you're doing, but rather it's about making people feel comfortable, at ease, so that they forget what they actually wanted to improve which is often complicated and makes no sense. He glances over at Oskmeister's terminal. Bah! There he goes again, that intellectual little weasel, writing "computer code" and pretending that it actually matters. Everyone knows that nobody understands computer code and pretending that you're writing it is just another way of avoiding work. Alas, Bron trots through the office once again, en route to her desk where a pile of colorful papers rests ready for some manner of processing. She parks her plump butt in her chair, and turns to Ted.

Bron: I thought that we might move those filing cabinets there to the other side of the room and put some flower pots and a chocolate fountain in their place. Then we can move my desk next to the fountain... you know, because I love chocolate and there's nothing better than dipping my fingers in it and then licking it off [licks own finger without breaking eye contact].
Ted: Pro football? You are not the flag!
Bron [whispers]: I'll see you after work. I want to show you something.

As her whisper dissipates she leans down towards Ted. There is an awkward moment as he smiles and takes a quick peek. Oh, what to do? It's tough being a coordinator, having so many women throwing themselves at you and remaining christian at the same time. Why did the good lord curse him so? What will he do?

---

Will Ted?

a. Say something stupid and ruin his chances
b. Convince Bron to show him something now
c. Agree with her proposition and possibly face more situations throughout the working day
d. Ask Osk for advice

Cast your votes now!

Simply post a comment on this web log for The Jamo and tell him where you want the adventure to go. The most popular continuation will be used to continue the story. In an event of a tie, the two [or more] most popular continuations will be amalgamated.