The Wide World of Rich, Paralyzed Iraqis, Part III

This is where things get stupid and wildly inappropriate. As if we weren't there already.

Here is Mrs. Fareeza's reply, with one of her pictures included:

Dear Jonny,
I really enjoy jokes,I just hope we can be serious in this matter. When some of us who have opportunity decide to move money overseas through unknown agents,we are not fools,Its just that we can rely on fellow Iraqis because they are the ones that will probe you tomorrow when things don't get good again.

I am sending to you my picture in the hopital now and another pic of my husband and I, 7 years ago.

Please my good friend,I want to beg here that you do not take undue advantage of me in this circumstance, I am a widow and paralysed too, I am supposed to be in London now as doctor says I shall undergo a surgical operation he calls spinal decompression. If you show good example in this business, I will introduce you to many other business, here in Iraq. Please I shall also sent to you the information your require to contact the company so that they can deliver the consignment to you.
Get back to me.

Mrs Fareeza

I started to have my doubts at this point. Clearly there did exist, somewhere in the universe, an Iraqi woman with a husband (dead or alive? who knows?) who at one time was in the hospital, possibly paralyzed but maybe not. I was feeling pretty rotten about myself and was about to stop messing with this scammer, who him/herself could have been a poor Iraqi just trying to make a buck, when I got this email:

Dear Jonny,
I send these documents to allay your fears and understand the seriuosness of this issue.
The deposit certificate was issued to my husband in Iran last year,just before his death.
The picture of the money was also taken in Iran before repackaging the money.
The small box has already been taken care of,so my concern is the big box now in Europe.

Download the documents for better viewing.
in Iraq.

She then included some gibberish numbers and the name of a director that I could contact in Iraq after she stole my money.

Included, for my pleasure, were two obvsiously authentic documents: a terrribly fake money transfer agreement something-or-other, and a picture of a box of money. If you look closely to the Deposit Certificate, you'll notice some rather awesome details, including a line that reads "Security Check Report: Okay" (whew! Good thing the Security Check went through!) and a signature that was obviously done in Microsoft Paint or some other high-tech image doctoring program.


Having been previously racked with guilt over the prospect of sticking my own salt-covered fingers into the festering, US-created open wound that is Iraq, I was newly inspired to continue being a complete jackass. So I did.


Hi Fareeza

I'm sorry if you don't like the jokes, but it is my feeling that I really need to feel like I can connect with you before making this transfer. I am a chef by day and a comedian by night, and I have always found that those who appreciate my humor are the ones that I can trust most. So, if you want this to happen, we have to spend some time getting to know each other. I really want to help, but I have to be sure.

That said, how about this one?

A freedom fighter walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says, "Hey, I think I know you. Where are you from, how did you get here?" The guy looks up from his beer and says "Iran and tanks." The bartender replies, "You're welcome, but you didn't tell me where you were from!"

So, did you like it? My audiences always like that joke.

Anyway, "tanks" for the picture (trying to stifle a chuckle there, sorry, I just can't concentrate sometimes). I have attached a picture of myself so you can get to know me. In a supreme coincidence that I totally forgot to mention, I am paralyzed, too. It sucks. This is a picture of me before my accident. I hope that you think that I'm attractive.

Don't worry, we will do this transfer soon. I hope that you understand that I just need to be completely sure about it. I understand that you want to move fast, but the moment needs to be just right for me.

How do they say goodbye in your language? Teach me.

Johnny

At this point, the discussion was getting pretty absurd, and I thought that Mrs. Fareeza would eventually leave me alone or try to send me a computer virus or something. Little did I know how far greed could drive a person. And little did I know how far some random crook's abject stupidity could push me. This is going to have like eight parts. I don't think I'll have enough Roman numerals for it. Stay tuned.