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• Blood Pressure Myth Exposed!‏

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From:	Dr.Haengwoo Lee (****@stimulatewiggletrump.com)
Sent:	Sun 9/30/12 4:44 AM
To:

Blood Pressure Myth Exposed!

Ed,

I remember when we founded Nugenics Health, Inc all those years ago.  Do you remember, Ed?  Because if I'm not going CRAZY I could've sworn we were going to keep the focus on Ted Nugent and eugenics, NOT get into all this "blood pressure" or "deep sea chemical exploration" foofaraw!  But nooooooooooo, someone had to get fancy on me, had to get all "We can do so much more for people than mapping out Ted Nugent's genes for a select midWest clientele who are definitely interested in Nugent-oriented gene therapy."  We had a DREAM, Ed!  And it looks like it's time for me...to finally wake up.

Since you were so kind as to reach out to me despite the restraining order I tried to get against you, I think it'd be polite to catch you up on what I've been tooling around with in my abandoned underground ICBM silo-cum-lab.  Just for simplicity's sake, let's break it down by how long it takes me to shimmy down the firehouse pole I installed to take me to the bottom of the silo.

Half A Second:  Before I've had much time to build up momentum on the pole we're in what I like to call the Scream Chamber.  This is where the drifters I lure into the silo are exposed to a looped version of "Cat Scratch Fever" for five days.  Once they blow out their vocal cords "singing along" for help, help help helphelphelphelp, it's time to tidy up and begin their transformation.  This leads us further down the pole to...

Two Seconds:  The Wig Room.  Everyone knows Spirit Of The Wild-era Nugent is all about freely flowing locks of hair fluttering in the gusts of wind created by a wall of pumping Fender amplifiers, so I took the time to select only the finest border collie wigs for my subjects.  "Why border collie hair," you might reasonably ask, "why not human being hair?"  Well I'll tell you, Ed.  I'll tell you when I'm standing on your grave, shouting my triumphs to the stormy wind that blows low and mean across the dead grass of the graveyard.  YOU'LL NEVER KNOW ED, I'M TAKING THE WIG SECRET TO YOUR GRAVE!  HA!

Three Seconds:  The Instruction Room.  My drifters have pretty much gotten a feel for what's going on with me and my ambitions for them at this point.  Their wigs stapled firmly in place, I put a reproduction of Ted's Gibson Byrdland (unlike some people, Ed, I'm not made of money for vintage Gibson jazz guitars...some corners, like drifters' Achilles tendons, must be cut) in their trembling hands and have them stand in front of a wall-sized screen showing only the choicest clips from Ted's solo shows, his early work with the Amboy Dukes and, of course, his inimitable contribution to Damn Yankees.

Five Seconds:  The Performance Room.  This is where it all comes together.  After the drifters have their wigs, guitars and stage moves down, they're injected with a delightful cocktail of genes/chemicals and gently strapped into a harness which will allow them to approximate The Nuge's stage moves for a period of time.  Until they pass out or their hearts explode.  Most of the time both.  After the subject expires, his DNA is harvested and compared to Ted's to see if there's an EXACT match.  To date, there has been...limited success.  

So that's my update, Ed.  I hope your precious blood pressure "medicine" helps you sleep at night, knowing I'm slaving away in a marginally-lit ICBM silo trying to run down the dream we once shared.  I hope you sleep like an exhausted, be-wigged drifter.

Take Care & See You At Easter,

Willard O'Keefe

CEO, Nugentinics LLC

ACEI, NSA, MSW

"Mimes A-Poppin': Silent Fury"

Rent contract‏

From:	Micah Simpson (feesvi@****.com)
Sent:	Fri 4/30/10 6:11 AM
To:	jjon1123@****.com

Good morning,
We have prepared a contract and added the paragraphs that you wanted to see in it.
Our lawyers made alterations on the last page. If you agree with all the provisions we are ready to make the payment on Friday for the first consignment.
We are enclosing the file with the prepared contract.
If necessary, we can send it by fax.
Looking forward to your decision.
"Micah Simpson

Mr. Simpson,

I regret to inform you that I have a few more addendums as to the aircraft hanger I will rent while I shoot my epic claymation film “Mimes A-Poppin’: Silent Fury” in 3D. Why claymation mimes, you ask? I’ll tell you: I am OBSESSED with capturing the raw, desperate emotion on a mime’s face as he or she attempts to dazzle the audience with invisible box trickery or invisible rope pulling. Because they’re pulling that rope for us, Micah. For all of us! You can only achieve my vision with total control, and I need you to believe me when I say that I’ve tried filming actual mimes. Talk about a bunch of divas, I’ve never seen the “talk to the hand” gesture more in my life! And their berets were everywhere after shower time. It was, to put it succinctly, a disaster.

Now let me fill you in on some of the details about my new rent contract requirements, given that I will be filming eight-inch-tall clay mime figures on a miniature set that is fifty feet by fifty feet, with my cell phone camera. Since I need absolute silence to keep the correct mime-friendly atmosphere (the silence really “pops” on screen), I need to have another aircraft hanger built within the hanger our rent contract currently covers, with toxic foam insulation between the old and new hanger. Why toxic, you ask? Because it’s the best, that’s why! My project deserves all the support I can give it, and if some Guatemalans get “sponge lung” from installing toxic sound-dampening insulation, SO BE IT. I’d kill them with my own hands if it meant a 1,300 theater opening weekend for “Mimes A’Poppin’: Silent Fury“ and you can take that to the bank. Any bank. Or a credit union. Both of which have denied me loans.

The other major change I need to our rent contract is a three-floor excavation beneath the aircraft hanger so I can accurately film my mime mine scenes. This mine has to be DEEP, and I think two hundred feet will accurately translate into the kind of mine a troupe of mimes could get into some hijinks in, if my calculations are correct. Hey, they always are! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahaha. Oh mercy! My wife would have found that quite hilarious, if she hadn’t left me when I told her the title to my film. To clarify, I told her the title after I told her I was doing the movie and also after I told her that I’d taken out a second and third mortgage on our condo to pay for the first three hours of shooting. “No one wants to watch a four hour movie about mimes!” she said as she packed her bags. “They will if it’s in 3D, you ice-cold trollop!” I replied, level headedly. She then shot me in the right calf. My wheelchair has damaged the miniature set many, many times, Micah.

So, here we are. Waiting for the changes I’ve discussed here to go through so I can film that crucial finale scene to “Mimes A-Poppin’: Silent Fury.” I’ll give you a glimpse of the penultimate shot: We zoom over the rooftops along the Champs-Elysees, a single cloud wafts over the Paris sky. Our hero, Renard, has vanquished the villain, a circus clown (there’s a whole “Romeo and Juliet” circus clown/mime subplot, it’s AMAZING) who killed Renard’s family. Our hero stands on top of a pile of rubble, the result of his epic battle with the clown. The circus clown looks up at Renard through blood-shot eyes and says “I don’t…I don’t need…your pity.” and honks his clown horn twice. Renard scowls, wipes his makeup off with his glove so he can speak and says, “This is for my family.” He kicks the clown in the crotch, causing him to roll/fall down the pile of rubble. Our hero gets a grenade out from his pants, pulls the pin with his teeth, and says “And this…is for ME.” Renard turns and throws the grenade over his shoulder down to where the clown rolled, walks away in slow motion while a giant wall of flame and smoke erupts from the other side of the rubble, and we fade to a title card that says “The end?”

I Am Desperate,

Lionel Bildridge

Get Out the Gladiator Net, This One's Wearing Combat Boots

looking for a sexy sgood figured‏

From:	Jamie (****@pookmail.com)
Sent:	Thu 5/06/10 5:52 AM
To:	****@hotmail.com

hi hunny, long time since we spoke last. i posted an ad on cl and got flooded with replies, but i liked yours the best. i'll cut to the chase with everything, ive signed up and used just about every dating site out there and i never have the same luck as i do on cl, its just kinda scary meeting random guys. I used to use a few dating sites that would screen members for being offenders but they were normally fakes or scams and the guys i did meet up with were normally mad at me lol. anyways i jsut got lifelock and one of the best features in my mind is the offender registry they have, you can look up your own address to see if someone is using it as a offender address, good info for you to know and for a girl to know before meeting a stranger. I want to be the bad girl you want me to be, but i want to be safe too, this is simple just signup for a account at **** and then you can do a background search on your address, click Reply on this email and email me back your results if your address is safe ill come over whenever you want, I would like to meet sooner then later so get the account and email me ill send u my cell u can tell me the naughty things you want to do to me hehe kiss kiss jamie hoffman

Jamie,

Hey girl! I understand your late reply, I always get just flooded with responses whenever I post an ad on ColanderLife.biz. They’re all like “Hey, sweet colander!” and no one talks much about my ads for colander hole enlargement. And I’m just frustrated, Jaime, because I really do feel that I have perfected a system for enlarging the holes in colanders and the world of ColanderLife.biz either isn’t ready for that or they can’t see the potential for their pasta straining or produce washing needs. It’s just a frustration, Jamie! I mean, get with the program, ColanderLife.biz!

Now, whenever I need my online hookup partners screened without them knowing it, I always go to BearTrap.org, where all the most eligible butch, hairy men are rated and cross-referenced with the sex offender list of your zip code. You have to put in your zip code, in the upper right hand corner? On the BearTrap message boards we call it “tagged and bagged” like we’re bear scientists, which is accurate given the amount of raw meat I handle. Ooooh! Oh no I didn’t! Yes I diiiiiid. I’m nasty, ooooh! Girl, I’m serious, it gets crazy as a mother over at the BearTrap. So anyway, yes it’s important to screen. Although sometime, just between you, me and the sea, it’s almost better to not know, you know? You know what I mean? Just, just closing your eyes and gettin’ a grip on what’s ever poking through that hole in the wall. I swear, I swear sometimes I am too much. Too much!

So I was tweetin’ the other day. Do you tweet Jamie? I just can’t get enough of it, I swear the battery on my phone dies quicker than a Haitian! So I was tweetin’, and I said “Who’s making nachos for themselves? I AAAAAAAM! Hashtag deliciousness Hashtag so much awesome” and it was a little sad because I had actually just said that out loud to myself right before I tweeted it and I was all alone when I said it but I was like really peppy about it, like I was AMPED about those nachos. But at the same time, there I was all alone and there wasn’t anyone to enjoy the nachos with me and they didn’t turn out all that awesome to be honest. I tell you what though, I love to tweet.

Jamie, have you ever had something turn out not so great? Like maybe your kids? I have two kids and they’re doing awesooooome! These women, I swear, these women take one look at my triceps and they’re like, “I don’t care how you mix up your dough as long as I get your bun in my oven.” I swear, Jamie! No it’s true, these women out there are baby CRAZY. They’re all like, “Ooooh, my biological clock!” and I’m all like “Girl, you better wind that biological clock ‘cause it better not go off and wake me up! I need my ten hours!” Then they’re all like “Get out the gladiator net, this one’s wearing combat boots!” ‘cause I went through a combat boot phase? Combat boot phase, ooooh like, seven years ago?

Well, in closing Jamie I guess I should quote my old aunt Bill – that’s a little joke – who was fond of saying,

Work Hard, Gay Hard,

Clarence Fish

It Was Tito, Wasn't It Girl

Dominating classy and exotic goddess‏

From:	Bianca (lookingBianca27@****.com)
Sent:	Sat 4/24/10 5:53 AM
To:	****@hotmail.com

hey hru? its been a few days we chatted online for a bit but then my husband came home so i had to rush offline.  sorry about that, I really wanted to talk to you more.  anyways you should write me back,  when you click reply my new email address will be shown to you, PLEASE dont give it out my husband doesnt know about that address and we can talk more  I would really like to meet up with you! I have a cell too that is safe for you to call me, I have it listed on my match account along with some naughty pics  ( my hubby doesnt know i have this account)  there is no charge its a completely free profile  none of that scam stuff  get a profile and my username is Bianca87 the link to the site is http://bit.ly/dnceIh  u can email me back on that address i told you about but i only have my good pics inside my profile so message me there too babe!

talk to you soon xoxoxox Bianca

Ooh Bianca!

Girl you know I been missing you, right?  I just want you to know from the deepest of my depths that I have a craving for your booty that’s so so real.  I mean, in my realest for really realness girl.  I need what you got, Bianca.  BIANCAAAA!  I NEED YOU GIRL!  I’m taking all kinds of night classes at the learning annex to attend to my self-improvement, ‘cause you know I need to bring it to a whole nother level when it comes to bringing the heat to your booty.  I’m gonna fold you up like origami, girl.  Do you even know what that means?

Bianca!  Do you remember that time in St. Tropez when I got stung by a jellyfish on my anus, girl?  The way you applied my salve was so romantical, it made my love for you just grow and grow, like the swelling on my downstairs.  I just remember holding you so tight that night, how you would dry heave from the smell of my salve and I had so much gladness that you didn’t yak on my head while we sleeping.  The way you looked so tired in the morning light that next day made me feel bad that I kept asking you all night long to name and then reconsider which Jackson was your favorite.  Was it Jermaine?  Was it Tito?  It was Tito, wasn’t it girl.  You a Tito woman, that’s why I love you.  Bianca, you know you a Tito woman, ha haaaaa!  If I ever meet Tito at like a remote controlled helicopter convention I’m tell him you into him, Bianca, see if I don’t!  You crazy for that, girl!

You better not leave me for Tito Jackson, girl.  If I ever lose you I’m go CRAZY.  YOU HEAR ME BIANCA?!  I’M GO CRAZY IF YOU QUIT ME GIRL!  YOU CAN’T NEVER LEAVE ME GIRL, YOU MY WHOLE WORLD!  PLEASE, BABY PLEASE SAY YOU WON’T NEVER EVER LEAVE, YOU KNOW I GOT TO HAVE YOUR BOOTY BOTH NIGHT AND DAY, LIKE ALL THE TIMES!  YOU ALL I THINK ABOUT, YOU STRAIGHT UP HAUNT MY DREAMS BIANCA!  I HAVE A HUNGER FOR THAT BOOTY THAT SCARE ME, BIANCA, LIKE SCARE ME SO BAD SOMETIME. 

It’s just…girl I most never had a love like our love, and sometimes when I think about you givin that booty up to another man I just can’t stand it.  I waited my whole life for a booty like your booty, a booty so fine straight-up kings would consider setting down their crown to get just a whiff of it.  I look at you mopping up after we do it in the kitchen and I just get like hypnotized by your sweet booty movin and bending and stretching to clean up our stuff that we make when we get down.  I almost cry in my eyes girl, straight up tears of love for you and what you done for me.  I’m gonna write a book full of my need and love for you, girl.  I’m call it Bianca You My Whole World Don’t You Never Leave Me For Real Girl I Need You.

Chapter One:  Bianca remember how much we did it that one night?  Like really made our love for real?  I lost track of how many jimmies we used that night, I mean it was like the whole pack!  That was a crazy night, girl, you bout wore me out ha haaaaa!

Chapter Two:  I love your booty more than white people who went to private school love the word “gravitas.”

So that’s a little taste of my novelistic endeavors, how do you like it?  I hope you like your book, girl, cause it’s all about you and me and our love and my heart that’s for you.  For you, girl.

Bianca You Better Text Me Girl,

Trios Greene, Your Man

A Sword Swallower With A Persistent Hacking Cough

From: Miss Rose Adams <roseadams205@****.com>
Sent: Sun, November 14, 2010 3:23:32 AM
Subject: Hello Dear Chosen one,

Hello Dear Chosen one, Please excuse me for all the inconveniences my mail could cause you. I have the pleasure to expose to you my predicaments. Please even if we never knew before, I believe firmly that on the basis of the right of humanitarian assistance that a real confidence and love can arise from our communication and also a real partnership between us. I am Rose Adams, the legitimate daughter of the Director of cocoa export murdered by the rebel’s here because of the war and political crisis going on here in my country. My father had deposited a consignment with a security company here containing the sum of 10.700, 000m USD (Ten million seven hundred dollars USD) to allow him to conceive a project of investment at the end of his mandate. Regrettably the fate decided on it otherwise. Today my major concern is to move out this sum outside here. Given that I am the only child and I have seriously suffered from the ragging and the harassments on behalf of the political opponents of my Father. It is in this prospect that I contact you. Because of the political war and the hostilities in this country I seriously wish to leave from here and live the rest of my life in a more peaceful and politically more stable and quiet country. I am honourably seeking your assistance in the following ways: 1) To provide a bank account into which this money would be transferred to . (2) To serve as a guardian of this fund since I am under age. (3) To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to further my education. If you can be of an assistance to me I will be pleased to offer to you 20% of the total fund. I would like to count on your human, virtuous and professional qualities to actualise this project. I look forward to receive your urgent respond Thanks for your care and may God bless you for your kind heart to hear the cry of an orphan. Yours sincerely, Miss Rose Tokyo Rose, Chosen One, that sounds nice!  Chosen One.  I haven’t been chosen for anything for any particular reason since grade school.  I was chosen in grade school for dodge ball, but it was abundantly obvious at the time that the reason was how fat I was in 4th grade.  Chosen One has a much better ring to it than One Who Is Hidden Behind.  My girth and leg braces did not improve my dodge ball prowess, let me assure you. Miss Rose I hope the previous paragraph will convince you I know a thing or two about the ragging and the harassments.  I was ragged by the soda jerk, the butcher, my father’s Girl Friday, the head of the local stevedore union, one of the more prominent hobos, a cotton merchant, the discoverer of two-sided tape, the deaf girl who was in charge of randomly selecting the winning lottery numbers for the state lottery, a man whose face had been burned in an otherwise wholly avoidable firework accident, various yes men, a sword swallower with a persistent hacking cough, and future governor Jesse Ventura.  A diverse group of Americans had a low opinion of me, is what I’m trying to say.   So naturally I turned to termite control as a trade. Termites are fascinating creatures, and in time I came to accultruate myself to their ways.  I learned their phermonal language and bred with their women.  They came to trust me in their own mute way, and when I felt I had their elders lulled into a false sense of security I would spray my chemicals and kill them all.  This process took one and a half afternoons, Rose.  My bosses were not thrilled but they couldn’t argue with my results:  demoralized and one hundred percent dead termites. Don’t worry about any inconveniences your mail might cause me.  It’s easy enough to sort through my stacks and stacks of letters from the dead letter room at the post office and find your letter after I print it off my internet machine and inevitably loose it among the clutter and detritus of my shack.  That’s right Rose, a shack.  I live in a shack, Theodore J. Kaczynski-style.  My property taxes are a bear, though, since my lot in Orlando, Florida is in a rather nice part of town.  My neighbors are beginning to realize that I’m not going to be “developing” the lot any time soon, Rose.  They are not happy about it, and they’ve sent Animal Control by several times to “ask” about the dozens of cats I have living with me.  “Too late, they’re already the beneficiaries of my will, you can’t kick them out” I’d say to the Animal Control officer.  They were definitely annoyed by the legal loophole I’d created.  Rose, I…I ate the cats when they died.  I could tell that’s what they wanted, dying within easy reach of my George Foreman grill like they did.  I mean, how obvious can a cat be about wanting to be panini pressed after it died? Rose, I am all about actualizing this project.  I’ve got some questions about the arrangements I would need to make to get you to American to continue your education, though.  For instance, is the cry of an orphan any different from the cry of a child with only one dead parent?  How attractive are you, as far as underage girls go?  Are we talking like Natalie Portman in The Professional hot, or merely Cindy Brady cute?  This is important to others, not…not me ha ha.  I just want to know I’m betting on a winner, Rose.  Hot girls are like perpetual motion machines:  they exist to be what they are, and no one can figure out how to make one.  We can determine how to make you hotter later, the important thing now I’d say is to give you all my personal information so you can get this money into my Bank of America account.  I burned my Social Security card when I finally got my Kroger card, so I don’t have that information in front of me, but my driver’s license is TU4235522, issuing state Puerto Rico.  I am four feet eleven inches, shoe size boy’s 12.  My suits are from Banana Republic, since I have been blackmailing their CFO for six years.  That was one of my better brainstorms, given that most of my brainstorms result in nose bleeds and ear wax buildup.  I am of mixed ethnicity:  my mother was Scottish and my father was Welsh.  I hope that’s enough information, let me know if you need to know my cup size.  (Here’s a hint:  I’ve used a paper ketchup cup from Wendy’s as a cup in the past.  [Yesterday.]) Help The Cats Have Become Agitated, Alford  Tigh Colmnner

A Kind of Pavlovian Trigger

RE: Hi‏

From:	Lana Pack (****@hotmail.com)
	You may not know this sender.Mark as safe|Mark as junk
Sent:	Thu 4/22/10 9:32 PM
To:

Affordable V na IAGRA $ 1 CIALI yo S $2 LEV kf ITRA

Jeyne. The tall girl? suckling babes for prizes a tenth the size of Tarth. I am not Renly Baratheon, I confess it, but I have

Ms. Pack,

Jeyne was of average height.  I think you’re confused.  And the Tarth lottery, impressive though it might be to someone who’s trying to sell me “vnaiagra,” in my opinion is among the lesser lotteries of our times.  Granted, the Tarth lottery is sizeable for an underground lottery that people rarely talk about except in emails, but I wouldn’t compare it to the Darth lottery.  That might be an unfair comparison, since you have to be a Sith Lord to even enter the Darth lottery.  But you can’t argue that the Tarth lottery’s anything but small potatoes, in the grand scheme of the other Westeros lotteries.  And it’s certainly no Garth lottery.  Little Wayne’s World joke there, haha.  Everyone knows the Garth lottery’s rigged.

Back to Jeyne.  If we’re talking about the same Jeyne, and I can only assume we are, she was sleepy-eyed and brunette, but not tall.  She had a limp from being thrown out of a rickshaw and the nail of her right pointer finger kept falling off, but she was of average height.  Her father was a double agent for Target working in Sears, and eventually he was found out and the Sears people mailed his left hand to Jeyne’s family.  Those monsters even stole his watch and wedding band before they mailed his hand.  I can only imagine what that must have done to Jeyne, but I feel confident in saying that she wouldn’t go around entering competitions where she breast feeding babies.  Especially not for the Tarth lottery, which everyone knows is based in Cambodia and is administered by unsavory characters.  Jeyne was good people before she got run over by that ice cream truck.  There were some among us, myself included, who theorized that she was brainwashed by the Target people to throw herself under the ice cream truck to cover their tracks with her dad, and that they used “The Entertainer” (which is the melody all decent ice cream trucks use to announce their presence) as a kind of Pavlovian trigger…seeing that written out makes it seem a little less plausible. 

No matter.  Suffice it to say that Jeyne got a raw deal and Lana, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep her name out of these levkfitra emails in the future.  Renly Baratheon, on the other hand, is a scoundrel of the first order, and deserves any infamy his actions garner him, I don't care whose brother he is.  Listen to this:  I heard that Renly Baratheon once pushed someone down.  I head he shot his pellet gun at Mrs. Johnson’s dog and that the pellet’s still in there.  Billy said Renly Baratheon cheats at marbles and only keeps the marbles he wins because he’s so big and mean.  This one time, Lana, this one time Renly Baratheon called me a “stoop” right in the middle of the lunch room and I ran out of the lunch room because I didn’t want Susie to see me crying.  Renly Bartheon is no good, and I heard that after he did all that stuff in third grade he dropped out and had to get his G.E.D. and now he just complains all day about the Council on Foreign Relations controlling the weather.  Can you really blame him, though?  (No.)

In closing, I just want to say I wish there was more laughter in the world and less black-on-black crime.  Fashion crime.  If you’re going to wear a lot of black, at least put on a white shirt for contrast!

Born With One Ball,

Gerald Terrence Jorgenson

Something In His Donkey Language

{Spam?} Emergency email‏

From:	Mr. Yuan Jinyang (****@yahoo.com.hk)
Sent:	Sun 4/18/10 5:21 AM
To:

I am Mr. Yuan Jinyang, financial director, Bank of China.

Our Client, Gen Mohammed El Gohary, a businessman and also who was with the
Iraqi forces, made a fixed deposit, of Fourty Five Million, Two Hundred and
Seventy Five Thousand Dollars ($45,275,000.00) only in my branch, a number of
notices was sent to him, before the war which began in 2004 and also after the
war but, no response came from him. We later found out that the General along
with his wife and only daughter had been killed during the war in a bomb blast
that hit their home.

After more inquiry it was also discovered that the late Gen Mohammed El Gohary
did not declare any next of kin in his official papers including the paper work
of his bank deposit. What bothers me most is according to the laws of my
country at the expiration of 6 years the funds will be revert to the ownership
of the Hong Kong Government if nobody comes for the funds, Against this
scenery, I have all the information needed to claim these funds and I want you
to act as the beneficiary of the deposit, there is no risk involved in this
matter, as we are going to adopt a legitimate method and the attorney will
prepare all the necessary documents. I want you to know that you will be
entitled to 30% of the entire funds while I get 70% as the originator of the
deal.

All I require is your honest co-operation and I guarantee that this will be
executed under a legitimate arrangement that will protect you from any breach
of the law. Please accept my apologies and keep my confidence.

Considering the money involved, and due to the nature of this transaction, it
is necessary for you to be sure of whom you are transacting with. I want to be
sure that you are ready, to execute this transaction with me, What I expect
from you is trust and commitment, I want this large sum of money transferred
with your assistance and you should have nothing to worry about regarding
legality AT ALL, because  what affects you Shall also affects me too,
considering the paper work we are about to sign together but, I will appreciate
you to follow my directives amicably as everything shall be done in accordance
passing through all international banking laws, and as a banker I know that if
we follow up this transaction diligently it would be completed within 9 working
days.

Please provide me the following details below if you are interested so my
Attorney can go ahead with the preparation of the required documents that shall
place you as the sole beneficiary to the funds.

1. Your Full names and address
2. Tel and Fax Numbers
3. Age
4. Sex
5. Occupation

I await your prompt reply on this.
Kind Regards
Mr. Yuan Jinyang

------------------------------------------------------------------
University of St Andrews Webmail

Sir,

I’m not saying I’m one hundred per cent “off drugs.”  I’m not saying that.  What I’m saying is that things are looking good vis a vis me working towards an arrangement with my parole officer Trent wherein I have him leave the bathroom stall in one or two weeks so I can use my nephew’s urine for the drug tests.  Baby steps.  Well…toddler steps (my nephew’s three).

What they don’t tell you about working on Wall Street is the pressure.  In ’96 I was flipping and ripping millions in trades every day and my bald spot grew from the crown of my head to my eyebrows.  I went bald, is what I’m saying.  Listen, Yuan, I used to have serious male model hair.  Hitler Youth hair.  Hair women couldn’t help but touch.  And it’s all gone and God help me I can’t help but think I peaked my junior year at Rice.  Screaming along to “Thunder Road” with all my bros at the Sigma house, a different betty bumping her head every night on the ceiling of my room while she climbed up onto my lofted bed.  Oh, sure!  Sure I could get hair plugs but that’s just another lie in a life full of lies.  Too many lies.  Too many.

I met General El Gohary once, you know.  He and I went to a party at Bo Derek’s second husband’s place in the Hamptons.  You’re familiar with the phrase “only the best people,” I’m sure.  Well, this party was exactly that.  The best people, looking like the millions they were worth, drinking wine that was bottled when there was a king of France.  So the General says to me, “Michael, for why your American president does not allow my people to use their oil monies to buy the Rolls Royce?”  I didn’t have an answer for him that day, and I can still remember how he wistfully looked out onto the Atlantic and muttered something in his donkey language.  And now he’s dead.  Dead!  Where’s Gen Mohammed El Gohary’s Rolls Royce, Yuan?  Where's his Rolls Royce.

Eventually, somebody at the SEC pulled their head out of a balance sheet long enough to notice my various acts of malfeasance and I picked up a nickel at Chatooga County Correctional Facility.  I’m not a racist guy, but the Dominicans at Chatooga did their best to change that.  I’ll put it this way:  I went through a lot of laxatives.  (Or rather the laxatives went through me, right?  Ha!)  Suffice it to say that I’m highly aware of my need for protection “from any breach of the law,” and would like to keep the terms of my parole as far as I’m able, the occasional extralegal Xanax aside.  So let me quickly provide you with the following details below:

Your Full names and address :  Michael Hoar/Cain Upchurch/Michael Cain Upchurch/Cain Stinton/Michael Yaur/Michael Weldout/Spiros Dalaboldopolous…732 Port Lane, Amherst MA 35555-2342 (my sister)

Tel and Fax Numbers : N/A

Age : 47

Sex : Yes please hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

Occupation : Currently seeking full time employment in the financial services sector, part time at Bennigan’s

Sincerely,

Michael Cain Upchurch

P.S. – Did you know Brad Windsor-Smith at University of Saint Andrews?  Sigma ’83?  You might know him by his nickname “Skeeter.” Solid guy.