Some people come into your life and change the way you look at things forever while others . . not so much. So it is that I received an email from a Sabir Ali requesting my assistance in a financial matter he deemed “most urgent”. I’ll give you a spit and polished excerpt of Sabir’s letter since it was longer than a Meryl Streep acceptance speech and contained more errors than the Philadelphia Phillies infield. I mean, the dude spelled Sunni wrong! That would be akin to me misspelling Kardashian.
I am a personal aide to the oil chief in Iraq. Because of the ongoing fight between Sunni rebels and the Iraqi government, the country has been divided and we have been under house arrest for weeks now. I have 9.5 million US dollars that I successfully moved out of the country. It is my share of an oil business deal with the Iraqi government and it is legal. I am willing to offer you 35 % for your assistance while you hold my 65%. Your own part of this deal is to find a safe place where my portions of the funds will be until I come to meet you for discussions on investment plans and business partnership. As soon as I hear from you I will furnish you with more details on how to proceed for the transfer of funds.
I look forward to your cooperation and I thank you in advance as I anticipate your response.
For one thing, I haven’t been called dear by a man since I was in Cub Scouts. For another, this isn’t a one night stand business transaction. Judging by his language, he’s thinking long term. Sabir might not be perfect but the reality is that the guys aren’t lining up to discuss long term investment strategies with me soooo, I’m gonna listen.
I know what you’re thinking. Cayman, don’t be a fool! This is nothing more than a scam to get in your pants! Or more specifically your wallet, to procure all manner of personal information. Snap out of it, he’s not worth it!
Maybe you’re right, but all I know is I’m not getting any younger. So I sent Sabir a counter offer (This is my email response, verbatim). If he’s truly legit, he’ll respond the way any savvy businessman would. By telling me to go to hell.
While your deal sounds promising, there are elements that seem shadier than Marshall Mathers. If you’re not down with Slim, his stage name is Eminem. He killed Vanilla Ice, bedded Kim Basinger and inspired the Motown ad campaign. Oops . . sorry, I’m speaking American.
I figure I should get some guarantees before I become a household name at Homeland Security. Your come on is brilliantly devoted, but I owe it to myself to question the promise of riches rather than succumb to its slavelike affectations. Man, I really should stop reading Ayn Rand before bed, but I can’t help it . . bitch was inspiring.
You’ll see that I have reworked certain of the terms of our fledgling business arrangement. In America we call that ‘tweaking’. Which is not the same thing as ‘twerking’. Okay . . . it’s kinda the same thing.
Anyways, here’s my counter offer.
1- Bill Murray’s phone number. Not the toll free job he gives out to aspiring screenwriters. I want the real one, because it’s fucking priceless.
2- A Bengal tiger cub. It should be obvious as to why I want a cub and not a full grown Bengal tiger.
3- A hoverboard. Metallic red, chrome trim. White script on the side which reads “Papi Chulo”.
4- World peace. Just kidding, I want Cheetos for life.
5- A meeting with Vera Farmiga. Tell her I have a script she’d be perfect for, make up whatever shit you need to in order to get me a face to face. ‘Detain’ Mr. Farmiga for a few hours, no rough stuff. If I can’t convince her I’m the man for the job, that’s on me. Her rebuff will not affect our deal in the least. I’ll take it like a man by grabbing a bottle of wine on the way home and crying myself to sleep whilst listening to Barry Manilow. Again.
One more thing. I only agree to this deal if we split the money equally. I might have agreed to your 35/65 split but your misspelling of Sunni (It’s two n’s!) convinced me that I must insist on a larger share. After all, if a Westerner can possess a better grasp of the world’s largest Muslim population than yourself, I figure that makes me a prophet for profit. Here’s an exercise that might help you out (It’s always Sunni in Haditha).
Should you be amenable to my terms, I suggest we move ahead post haste. Those four and a quarter million enchiladas I got coming to me will turn into twelve bucks if Bernie Sanders is elected. And not for nothing but if Trump wins I’d start looking for real estate in Greenland if I were you. Because he’s going to marry that Joni Mitchell song with Dr. Strangelove and the reception will take place in your backyard. Translation? Nah . . I don’t feel like it.
I hope to hear back from you at your earliest convenience. In the event this correspondence should be intercepted by the NSA, I plan on denying everything, except for the part about Vera. Worst case scenario is we cross paths again at Guantanamo Bay. I hear Kobe Beef Friday is worth the price of admission.
Your friend at arm’s length,