I know I’m not the only one getting the e-mails. They start out something like:
Due to the sudden death of my husband General Abacha the former head of state of Nigeria in June 1998, I have been thrown into a state of hopelessness by the present administration.I have lost confidence with anybody within my country.I got your contacts through personal research, and had to reach you through this medium. I will give you more details when you reply. Due to security network placed on my daily affairs I cant visit the embassy so that is why I have contacted you. My husband deposited $12.6million dollars with a security firm abroad whose name is witheld for now till we communicate. I will be happy if you can receive this funds for safe keeping and I assure you a very good percent of this fund I will instruct my son to contact you so please feel free to comunicate with my son. I await your urgent response,
PLEASE I WOULD WANT YOU TO SEND ME YOUR CONTACT TELEPHONE NUMBER SO THAT MY SON MUSTAPHA CAN CALL AND DISCUSS WITH YOU VERBALLY REGARDING THIS TRANSACTION SO THAT YOU CAN ASK ANY QUESTION THAT YOU FEEL LIKE ASKING REGARDING THIS TRANSACTION.
This leads me to wonder many, many things if it were legit by some stretch of the imagination. Like, what in the Hell kind of research did you do to find my name to handle your money?! You’se a gotdamn fool if you think you can give me $12 million dollars and expect me to just hold it for you. I’ll give a Nigerian hit man $200, and a pair of size 12 Timberlands to have him take you and your son out, then keep the rest of the cash for myself. I will pull a Charles Taylor and go into exile while still spending YOUR money. I mean for Christ’s sake, have you not read the blog? Obviously not, because if so, you’d know that I would take advantage of your dumb ass, then write about it on here.
Secondly, since you’re getting your son to contact me, why can’t you just give the money to him?! What? Is his credit bad? If that’s the case, you might not want to trust me with your dough, either. I got a “Don’t let me catch your ass in the street” notice from a bill collector just yesterday. I might not be the financial whiz you need handling the late General’s fortune.
Third, you really don’t want my sell phone number or my bank account. You will be a pissed off Nigerian widow if you expect to get any money out of my account. That’s like trying to squeeze water out of a rock. Not happening, hoe. I should kick your ass for getting my hopes up and gettting me to thinking about what it would be like if I actually had some cash right now for you to steal.
Besides, I don’t answer international calls, either. Hell, I rarely answer calls from the states when I don’t recognize the number. You think I’m going to answer some shit with more than 7 digits plus an area code? Bitch please! The Taliban could kidnap my family, but I wouldn’t know about that shit until it hit the news. That ransom call would be greeted by “You’ve reached the mailbox of ListentoLeon. Please leave your name, number and a brief message.” Bin Laden and the rest of them would just have to give my people back and find some white folks to kidnap for ransom. Hopefully, they’ll have a better phone plan than mine.Tweet