Part III: A happy ending

This is part 3 of my correspondence with "Miss Debora Johnson" and her attorney "Barrister John Ali" of Senegal, despereately attempting to get me to wire $1,300.00 to them in Senegal.

You can read part 1 here.

You can read part 2 here.

When we last left off, the good Barrister was trying to have me wire him $1,300.00 in fees to arrange a power of attorney for the lovely refugee "Miss Debora" (who would ultimately give me $5.7 million) - which of course would have only been the start until they bled my bank account dry (had I fallen for this, the joke would have ultimately been on them as I am very poor).

However, I decided to string them along for a while. I had already given the barrister a fake Western Union receipt number. After his first trip to the local Western Union, the Barrister sent me this....(notice how his correspondence is in all caps now, as he is getting a bit more agitated with me)

---------
To: Phil
From: Barrister John Ali

HELLO MR PHIL
I JUST RECEIVE THE INFORMATION ON YOU USE TO SEND THE MONEY.I WENT TO WESTERN UNION OFFICE THIS EVENING TO RECEIVE THE MONEY.THEY SAID THAT THE NUMBER IS NOT CORRECT.I WANT YOU TO SCAN THE PAYMENT SLIP AND SEND IT TO ME IMMEDIATELY SO THAT I WILL BE ABLE TO RECEIVE THE MONEY.I WAIT FOR YOUR URGENT REPLY.
BAR JOHN ALI.


To: Barrister John Ali
From: Phil

I am very sorry - it's possible I wrote the wrong number but I will double check.

Right now I am BACK at the movie seeing "Puss & Boots" for the 3rd time (it is a ridiculously entertaining movie - I find myself catching new things in it even after 2 other viewings - highly recommended!).

I do not have a scanner, though? My guess is I just typed a wrong number so I'll check as soon as I get back to make sure.

Sorry again,
Phil

To: Phil
From: Barrister John Ali

HELLO MR PHIL.
I JUST WANT YOU TO TRY AND SCAN THE PAYMENT SLIP AND SEND IT TO ME.IF YOU DON'T HAVE SCANNING MACHINE TRY AND FINE A PLACE AND SCAN THE PAYMENT SLIP AND SEND IT TO ME.I WAIT FOR YOUR URGENT REPLY.BAR JOHN.

To: Barrister John Ali
From: Phil

If you want, I am 99% positive I wrote the wrong number - it is 7693626589 I had mistakenly wrote two "8"s at the end of the sequence.

To: Phil
From: Barrister John Ali

HELLO MR PHIL.I TOLD YOU TO SCAN THE PAYMENT SLIP AND SEND IT TO ME.WITHOUT THE PAYMENT SLIP I CANT RECEIVE THE MONEY HERE.TRY AND SEE WHERE TO SCAN THE PAYMENT SLIP AND SEND IT TO ME.BEACUSE I WENT TO WESTERN UNION THEY SAID THAT THE NUMBER IS WRONG.BAR JOHN.

(I've now gotten him to make 2 trips to the Western Union)

To: Barrister John Ali
From: Phil

The new number or the old (wrong) number? I will do as you ask if you insist - I am going to a movie first as I bought tickets already (guess which one?) and after that I will see where they will scan the Western Union receipt.

Phil

To: Phil
From: Barrister John Ali

HELLO MR PHIL.THE TWO NUMBERS IS NOT CORRECT.TRY AND SCAN THE PAYMENT SLIP AND IT TO ME

To: Barrister John Ali
From: Phil

I've been walking around all night trying to find a place to scan my slip. Where do I go????????

To: Phil
From: Barrister John Ali

DONT YOU EVER PLAY WITH ME.I AM NOT A KIDS TO YOU.STOP PLAYIN WITH ME OR ELSE YOU WILL REGREAT T.

To: Barrister John Ali
From: Phil

I am NOT playing with you!! I AM NOT GOOD WITH TECHNOLOGY! I AM SORRY. I just bought a computer a week ago!!!!!!!! It's not my fault I am not familiar with all of this. I am only thinking of helping Miss Debora!! Maybe if you stop thinking of yourself and your precious money!!!!!!!! Why can't I just mail you a check like normal people!?

At this point, Miss Debora decides to intercede in my little dispute with the good Barrister. I have decided "regreat" is much better than "regret"!

To: Phil
From: Debora Johnson

why you have not send the payment slip?what happen?are you sure you send the money or you are just playing with me.

To: Debora Johnson
From: Phil

Miss Debora,

I have become saddened by this "barrister" john ali. He is being a jerk, and frankly I do not think he is looking out for your best interests.

Just because I have never sent anything by Western Union, or own a "scanner", he is talking in all caps and being generally mean.

I want to help you but I question the barrister's handling of all this in such an unprofessional manner.

Phil

To: Phil
From: Debora Johnson

Dear why did you send wrong number to the lawyer?that is the reason why the lawyer is not happy with you.i talk you send the money through western union why can't you scan the payment slip and send it to the lawyer.or you send the correct information so that the lawyer will receive the money.i don't believe you can do this to me.Please if you are ready to help me just send the money to the lawyer.

To: Debora Johnson
From: Phil

There are many numbers on the slip and I read it wrong, and am not certain he even tried the corrected number....I want to help but the Barrister is a "progress barrier", in my mind.

I must confess something to you Miss Debora - I am a lonely man. I am intrigued by your plight and desperately want to help you. I must ask you a very forward question and I hope you do not get offended. Will we ever make love? I would like to know that there is a future between us, and that it will involve passionate lovemaking that you so deserve.

I will do my best to get the payment scanned, which is not something I am familiar with but I know I am behind the times.

Fondly, Phil

To: Phil
From: Debora Johnson

Hello My Beloved Darling.Good morning to you. How was your sleep last night? I believe you have a wonderful sleep. It’s mine pleasure to know how you are doing over there. I believe God is at work in your life.

Darling I just read your mail this morning as I can understand what you mean. Darling i want to come and make love with you that is why i ask you to help me out from here so that i will join you over there. I am really hungry to see you in person.

What you have to do is to send the money you promise to send the so that the lawyer will prepare the document for me to join you over there.you are to send the MTCN________Amount___________Question________Answer_______and the name of the sender and the name of the receiver. try and send it immediately. just look well on the slip you will see those things.

I wait for your mail. your in love Debora.

Now for a classy response...

To: Debora Johnson
From: Phil

I can't wait to 'meat' you. I am breaking the record right now thinking about you. When I am finished pleasuring myself 13 times to the thought of your chocolate sweetness, I will go get the information.

Phil

To: Phil
From: Debora Johnson

Dear i am waiting for you to send the information so that the lawyer will go and receive the money.i wait for your mail.

To: Debora Johnson
From: Phil

Miss Debora, I am embarrassed to say that pleasured myself 13 times at the promise of your love making and now the Western Union receipt is covered with semen (and unreadable).

I am sorry.

Phil

To: Phil
From: Debora Johnson

you bastard don't you ever contact me again. f*ck you and your mother.

To: Debora Johnson
From: Phil

I love it when you talk dirty.

God I Love Wal-Mart

This past Friday afternoon I was traveling through Alabaster, Alabama on my way to visit and hunt with my Dad. 

I stopped at the local Wal-Mart to pick up some fixins for the weekend and witnessed a short encounter between an Auburn and Alabama fan. 

Now, if you are a part of either of these two fan bases, you are quite aware that "War Eagle" and "Roll Tide" are exchanged on a frequent basis...especially during football season - and for ANY reason. 

I had made my way to the register and a woman in her mid fifties was almost through checking out.  A man in his mid thirties was behind her, and then me. 

As I waited my turn I overheard the gentleman in front of me exclaim "Roll Tide Roll!"  I looked up to see the reason for his fanhood and noticed that the woman in front of him was purchasing an Auburn towel. 

I knew immediately that the woman was going to have her rebuttal heard.  She turned to the man behind her, stared him down for what seemed like 30 seconds, gathered her thoughts and then spoke out. 

"I think it's about time you grew up."

Add this to the ever growing list of why I love Wal-mart

Correspondence with a Refugee (continued)

To pick up where we left off, the Sweet Miss Debora was having a terrible time in her refugee camp (in between visiting the beach and the zoo), and needed my help. In exchange, I will be the recipient of her late father's 5.7 million dollars.

The other shoe (or 'sandal'? What do they wear in refugee camps?) was about to drop, I sensed....

--------
From: Royal Bank
To: Phil
Subject: TRANSFER DEPARTMENT

The Royal Bank of Scotland plc, Registered In Scot Land No 45551.Office In UK No ..3 6 St. Andrew Square Edinburgh H22YB.

Sir.
I have been directed by the director of Foreign Operation/Wire Transfer to write you in respect of your partner mail we received in our bank here in Scotland. Actually, we have earlier been told about you by the young lady Miss Debora Johnson that she wishes you to be her trustee/representative for the claim of her late father's funds deposit with our bank. Late Dr. Philip Johnson is our late customer with account no. AJ745008901546/CB/91/A Substantial amount (US$5,700,000.00) of deposit with us. Hence you have been really appointed as a trustee to represent the next of Kin. However before our bank will transact any business concerning the transfer of the fund with you; we will like you to send the followings: 1. A notarized Power of Attorney from a Senegalese resident lawyer permitting you to claim the said fund on her behalf.

2. The death certificate of late Dr.Philip Johnson her deceased father confirming the death.

3. Affidavit of Support from Senegal High court of Justice where she is residing, to prove the authentication of the power of attorney.

4. A copy of the Deposit Certificate of Dr. Philip Johnson given by our bank (ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND ). London.

Note: The above mentioned documents are compulsory and are needed to protect our Interest, yours, the next of kin after the claims. When you get all these documents both from high court and the power of attorney, Then, The original copies of the four required documents should be submitted to our office. These shall also ensure that a smooth, quick and successful transfer of the fund is made. Processing and transferring of Funds to your nominated locations/accounts shall commence as soon as we receive the above mentioned documents. We promise to give our customers the best of our services. Should you have any questions, contact the Funds Transfer Department Director, for more directives/clarifications.

Note: The attachment is the original copy of the Acknowledgment/Procedure.

Yours FaithfullyMrs Aileen Taylor(Foreign/Wire Transfer Officer),(For payment Dept.) Regards.0044703183102, 00447031830406 . Royal bank of Scotland Groups Plc. 6/12/2010 ( RBS ) Registered in Scotland Number SC327000 Registered office: The Mound, Edinburgh EH1 1YZ. Authorized and regulated by Financial Services Authority.

From: Phil
To: Royal Ban

How the f---k am I supposed to get all that?

Thankfully, my sweet princess has stepped in to save the day with the contact of an attorney, "Barrister John Ali"....

From: Debora Johnson

To: Phil

My Dearest one,
How are you doing this lovely evening?

I believe you are doing well.God will bless and reward you for effort you are makingto see me out from this situation I found myself due to the death of my parents.I just received an email from the bank which was equally copied to you about the requirements of transferring my money to your position.
My dear from the demands of the bank I have the death certificate and statement of account of my late father with me.The only problem we have now is the power of attorney which the bank said that it must be prepared by a Senegal lawyer. I discussed this problem with Rev and he gave me the contact of this lawyer Barrister John Ali He is a lawyer working here with the united nations and I will like you to send him an email immediately about preparing a power of attorney on your name so that the bank will transfer my money to your position for a better life.His contact are as follows,Barrister John Ali Email address (baristerjohnalilaw@hotmail.com)Tel 00221-768481433

Please make sure you send an email to him today.

Your Debora.

I didn't respond for a few days - Miss Debora emails back:

My Dearest one,
How are you today?. I believe you are fine.

My Dear I am doing well with all hopes to join you for a better life immediately after the transfer of my money to your account for a better life with you.God will bless and reward you for every effort you are making to help me come out from this prison called refugee camp..

My dear I went to the lawyer’s office to know if the power of attorney is ready so that I can sign it for the bank to transfer my money to your position. He maintained that a sum total of 1300 US Dollars must be paid as his charges before he will prepare the power of attorney for us. My dear please I know that this money is very big but I am pleading that youshould help me to pay the lawyer this money as you will get your money immediately after transfer plus 20% of the total sum for your wonderful assistance.
As you are aware that it is just this power of attorney that is delaying the transfer of my money to your position. As soon as this is prepared the bank will transfer my money to your position for me to come over to meet with you for the rest of my life. God bless you as you help me out from this situation.

Your Debora.

From: Phil

It is no problem! I was just at the movies (Puss & Boots - thumbs up!)

Question: How does Western Union know where to send the money? Does it work like Pony Express?

thanks, Phil

After a lengthy explanation of how Western Union works, it was on to the Good Barrister...

JOHN ALI & ASSOCIATE

Legal Practitioners.No 102 AIR PORT ROAD(second floor) . Republic Du Senegal
Tel: +221771059074 (mobile line)REF File; NO.: XX137GSCBK

For Your Attention Sir.

Sequel to the demand on how to prepare a power of attorney for you and your partner Miss Debora JohnsonYour partner Miss Debora was in my office with Rev to discuss about the issuing to you an authorization letter that will enable you stand on her behalf to transfer her money from ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND to your account in your country or elsewhere.

Prior to my enquirers from the bank and high court, I understand from the bank that there are three documents required by them before the transfer of the money to you. 1.A copy of Death certificate of Dr Johnson2.A copy of His Statement of account.(WHICH I HAVE SEND TO THE BANK IN SCOTLAND).and I have attach it to you.It is now remaining one document.Which is power of attorney which will enable the Bank to deal with you on behalf of your partner? From my enquirers, it will cost the sum of 500 US dollars for re authentication of the power of attorney at the high court before it becomes valid and 100 US dollars for notary stamping at the notary republic My legal processing fee of 200 US dollars and 500 US dollars for our consultation fee.total (1300 US dollars)

To speedy the process you are to send your full name and address as you want it to appear on the document and the 1300 US dollars to me paid today through western union money transfer system. (Which is the fastest way of sending money to enable my noble office prepare and validate the power of attorney here in the high court and notary republic respectively.You are to send the 1300 US dollars with my name Dr John Ali Name_____ John AliAddress______102 Airport Road Dakar SenegalSend or call me for the information as soon as you send the money to enable my chambers collect the money from western union local office here.

Yours sincerely in service,Barrister John Ali(Principal Partner).........................(ESQ)

Well I definitely want to "speedy the process" - he also attached a death certificate to the email.

From: Phil

To: Barrister John Ali

I defenitely want to speedy the process and am sending the money just as soon as I go see the new movie "Puss & Boots" and will then go to the Western Union immediately after.
Phil

The Barrister is getting a little more urgent now - an email in all caps

HELLO MR PHIL.HOW ARE YOU TODAY?IN RESPECT TO THE EMAIL WHICH I RECEIVE FROM YOU TODAY I UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU MEAN ABOUT THE MONEY I REQUESTED FOR THE DOCUMENT.I WANT YOU TO GO AND SEND THE MONEY THROUGH WESTERN UNION OR MONEY GRAM WITH THE NAME I GIVE YOU.REMEMBER TO SEND THE INFORMATION IMMEDIATELY YOU SEND THE MONEY.AND YOUR INFORMATION AS YOU WANT IT TO APPEAR ON THE POWER OF ATTORNEY.YOU ARE TO SEND YOUR NAME YOUR ADDRESS AND YOUR PHONE NUMBER.I WAIT FOR YOUR URGENT REPLY.BAR JOHN.

From: Phil

To: Barrister John Ali

Hello Barrister Ali - I am doing well. I understand now about the money and sorry for the delay but I was at the movies.

I have visited the Western Union and have wired the money. The claim number is 7693626588. Thank You.

Please put the Power of Attorney in my name:

Philemon P. Braun, 666 Croesus DriveCharleston, South Carolina 29401

I unfortunately do not have a working phone at the moment as I accidentally dropped it in the toilet at the movie theater, and am in the process of obtaining a new one.

Thanks, Phil

Naturally, I have given him a fake Western Union claim number - we'll see how patient he is, and how many trips to the Western Union he is willing to make.....

Pen Pals

Sorry for the lapse between posts, dear readers. Lots of really crappy family stuff going on, but we hope to be back on track soon.

In the meantime, one of my hobbies to correspond via email with people in need. Usually these people in need are in a foreign country and wish to give me millions of dollars that belonged to a recently deceased family member, if only I would help them by covering some of their "costs" in return.

Just recently, a lovely lady named "Debora Johnson" emailed me all the way from Africa. Here is how the exchange has gone so far:

-----Original Message-----
From: Miss.Debora Johnson [mailto:debojohns171@msn.com]
Sent: Wednesday, November 16, 2011 10:00 AM
Subject: Hello

Hi,My name is Miss.Debora Johnson i am a young girl from west Africa.I saw your email when i was browsing at internet and found out that we can make a good match and i will like you to contact me through this my email address (debojohn86@yahoo.com) so that i can tell you more about myself.please my dear i will like you to contact me at my mail box Waiting for your mail, Your

Miss.Debora

Of course, I replied that we would make a very good match. I did not find it curious at all that someone from West Africa would have the surname "Johnson". She responds back:

Subject: Hopping to hear from
From: debojohn86@yahoo.com to Phil show details Nov 17 (6 days ago)

Hello My Dearest one.Thanks for your immediate response to my e-mail, how are you doing today? Hope fine and you are perfectly doing well in health. My name is Debora Johnson I am from Ivory Coast in West Africa .I am 23 years old girl, 5ft 8inches tall, single never married, Black hair and brown eyes.

I am presently living in Senegal due to the Civil War fought in my country some years ago. My late father Dr Philip Johnson was the personal adviser to the former head of state before the rebels attacked our house one early morning killing my mother and my father. you can read about the story here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ivorian_Civil_War It was only me that is alive because I wasn't around when this happened, I was in the University where am schooling, am doing my first year in nursing, I then manage to abscond to following west African country ( SENEGAL ) where am residing now in '' REFUGEE CAMP''.

I would like to know more about you. Your likes and dislikes, your hobbies and what you are doing presently my hobbies are reading watching music videos going to beach with friends visiting a place like zoo and doing every other thing that gives joy and happiness.

I will tell more about myself in my next mail. Attached here is my picture.Hoping to hear from you soonest.

From: Phil
To: Debo Johnson

Hello to you too Miss Debora! I am glad you have written me back.

You seem like a beautiful young woman. I enjoy hearing about your hobbies, and am glad you are able to visit places like the beach, zoo, etc while at Refugee Camp. I once attended camp during summers here in the United States, but we did not have such luxuries, and mostly made crafts.

I am a man of many pleasures. I run a large international company with my partners, but we are not all business and I like to relax and imbibe in those things that make me feel good. I enjoy watching TV like the Price is Right, and listening to Kenny Rogers albums. I hope to hear from you again,

best, Phil Braun

It's not long before she writes me back although I had kind of forgotten about her, so it took me a while to reply. Things seemed to have gotten worse for Miss Johnson in the Refugee Camp, and there is not as much frivolity and trips to the beach as she indicated in her first email...

fromDebo John debojohn86@yahoo.com toPhil <phil@playazball.com>
dateThu, Nov 17, 2011 at 12:42 PM
subject: i will be waiting for your email

My Dearest one,
How are you doing this lovely evening?

I believe you are doing well. But it would have been better with me on your side. My Dear I can understand what you mean. I thank you so much for your lovely mail God will bless you as you help me out from this refugee camp.

My Dear thing are very bad for me here in the refugee camp where I am living today. I was first year student in the university studding nursing before the ugly incident that killed my parents that put me in this horrible place I found myself today. This place is like a prison as we are only allowed to go out on Monday and Friday of the week as given by the United Nations camp rules and regulation here in Senegal. It's just like one staying in the prison and I hope by Gods grace 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.I thank God for the pastor of Christ the king church located in the camp where I send and receive emails and his name is Pastor David Ken and he just like a father to me as I became close to him during one of his visitation to the clinic when I was sick.

You can call me in his office with this number 00221773354567 so that I can speak with you, when you call please tell him that you want to speak with me so that he can send for me from the females hostel to speak with you.

My Dear I chosen you immediately I saw your email without delay, because they said that out of hundred, there must be a good Samaritan and I hope that it was by God's grace that I chosen you and during my praying, God reveal to me that you are a very kind person, that is capable to help me. And I have 100% trust and confidence in you and I am rest assured that you will surely help me out from this terrible place called refugee camp.

My dear I will like you to help me come over to meet with you in your country for a better life as my health is going down daily here due to the poor conduction of the camp where I am living. 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.

My dear please there is one other thing I will like you to do for me as I need some body who will assist me due to my refugee status here in Senegal.Before the death of my father , he deposited a sum of 5.7 million dollars in leading bank in Europe which my name appears as the next of kin.Already I have informed the bank about my plans to claim this money but the bank told me to look for a foreign partner who will assist me in the claim due to my refugee status here in Senegal. As a refugee I don’t have a direct claim over the money but can only have it through an appointed representative.

So I will like you to help me transfer this money to your account and from it you can send some money for me to get my traveling documents and air ticket to come over to meet with you. I kept this secret to people in the refugee here the only person that knows about it is the Reverend because he is like a father to me. So in the light of above I will like you to keep it to yourself and don't tell it to anyone for I am afraid of loosing my life and the money if people get to know about it. Remember I am giving you all this information due to the trust I deposed on you. I like honest and understanding people, truthful and people of vision, truth and hardworking.

My dear I will like to know your willingness to assist me in this claim so that I can give you the full contact of the bank in Europe for you to contact them for verification and confirmation.God bless you as you do it for me

Debora.

And there it is....refugees must be the richest people on earth, because they all seem to have millions stashed away in a bank, just waiting to give it to you!

From: Phil
To: Debora

Debora - It is so good to hear from you! I am sorry I have delayed in getting back to you - I have been extremely fascinated with a new American movie "Puss & Boots". Have you heard of it? I've seen it several times, but feel bad that I missed your correspondence.

I am sorry to hear of your conditions in Refugee Camp. Did they close the zoo? I'm guessing your access is very restricted there. I am fascinated by the wealth of your father and would very much like to help. I would want to call you but am confused by your phone number. It is not like that here in the United States.

I look forward to hearing from you, sweet Debora.

Phil

I once strung along a nigerian scammer by saying I went to see "Shrek 3" five times and couldn't get to a Western Union for several days. Needless to say he was no fan of Shrek by the end of our communication. I sense the same coming for Miss Debora.

from:Debo John debojohn86@yahoo.com toPhil <phil@playazball.com>
date: Wed, Nov 23, 2011 at 9:51 AM
subject: My Darling help me contact the bank for confirmation and possible transfer.

My Dearest One.

How are you today? I believe all is well with you there. As mine was bored here in the camp where I am living and I thank God that I will be meeting with you very soon for a better life. I am more than happy to hear from you again. I believe God will use you to help me out from this refugee camp.Dear call me with this number +221773354567.

My Dear I don't know where to start as my life has been so sad since the untimely death of my parents and I thank you for your willingness to help me out from here called refugee camp. And manage my 5.7 million US dollars deposited at Royal Bank of Scotland of which my name appears as the next of kin.

My dear, I really want to join you over there in your country as soon as possible but I lack the financial strength to make it a reality now, So I should advice you to help me and recover my late father's money with the bank in Scotland, Then from there you can send me some tangible amount of money for me to prepare my traveling documents to come over there. After that you can invest the rest of the money in any business of your choice. I will not discuss this matter with any other person because I believe that you will help me, so no need of looking for another person. I will like you to please keep this transfer as a secret to other people because since it is (MONEY) all eyes will be on it. Remember in trust, I prayed and fasted when I got your contact and God revealed you to me as the right person to help me in this transfer due to my refugee status here in the prison called refugee camp.

I have informed the bank in Scotland about my plans to claim this money and the only thing they told me is to look for a foreign partner who will stand on my behalf due to my refugee status and the laws of this country against a refugee like me.In this regard I will like you to contact the bank immediately with this information, tell them that you are my foreign partner and that you want to know the possibilities of assisting me in transferring the ($5.7 Million US Dollars) deposited by my late father of which I am the next of kin.

Here is the contact information of the bank in Scotland where the money was deposited by my late father is as follows,
ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND
NAME OF THE TRANSFER OFFICER IS MR PHILIP HAMPTON
TELEPHONE NUMBER IS 0044703183102, 00447031830406
FAX NUMBER +44 709-280-4176
Based on this information I will like you to send an email to the transferdepartment of the bank today with any of this email address

(royalbanklondons@aol.com)
(royalbank_ofscotland@cooltoad.com)

Attention Mr. Philip Hampton the foreign transfer officer of the bank telling him that you are my representative and that you want to assist metransfer my 5.7 million dollars deposited by late father of which aim thenext of kin.

THE ACCOUNT INFORMATION IS AS FOLLOWS.ACCOUNT NAME IS DR PHILIP JOHNSON AMOUNT 5.7 MILLION DOLLARS. NEXT OF KIN MISS DEBORA JOHNSON

God bless you as you do this today,
your Debora.

I love how the Bank of Scotland has an "aol.com" email address, and it is "royalbanklondons" with an extra "s" at the end.

From: Phil
To: Debora Johnson

Do not worry! I will come to your aid!

from: Phil phil@playazball.com via gmail.com
to: royalbanklondons@aol.com
date: Wed, Nov 23, 2011 at 10:44 AM
subject: Attention!

Mr. Philip Hamton I am Mr. Phil Braun, a representative of the lovely Miss Debora Johnson of West Africa and her father Dr. Philip Johnson who has 5.7 million (!!!) in your bank.

Please allow me to assist her in moving this money to me immediately!!!!!!!

best,Phil Braun

Now the true games begin. I will attempt to keep you posted with future correspondence. Let's hope the best for Miss Debora!

Bourbon Street Black-Out

I have never felt so terrible in my life.  What I had seen, could not be unseen. Bourbon Street had claimed another victim.

I picked myself off the bathroom floor after many hours of “Driving the porcelain bus” and entered into the hotel room that I was sharing with my wife, and my parents.

Once they had finally stopped laughing at my expense, I requested an answer to a question that every black-out drunk has…What the hell happened? – But I hadn’t forgotten…I had only hoped it was a bad dream.

We spent the day on Bourbon Street, eating oysters, and engaging in the finest alcohol induced tradtion of all time, Mardi Gras.  My wife and I, along with my parents, had been hopping from bar to bar in search of a joint with live music.

We all began dancing to the beat of a Bon Jovi tribute band when we noticed one of Mardi Gras finer traditions…Boobs. 

As my father and I stared uncontrollably, my mother and my wife were not amused but could understand the fascination, as this woman’s plastic surgeon had done a fine job, and she was his pro bono advertisement. 

We kept staring as she was handing out motor boat calling cards to all parties.  My Mom, still not amused by the situation says, “Why don’t you go get you a Motor Boating too?” 

Knowing that there was no way in hell that my wife would allow that, my sarcastic rebuttal was, “Why don’t YOU go get one?”

Never, in a million years, did I expect my mother to call my bluff. 

Off she went towards the motor boat saleswoman.

I had to close my eyes.  My father didn’t.  He was like one of those Garfield the Cat suction cup toys clinging for dear life on the rear window of a station wagon.

The deed had been done.  My attempt to extract the image from my brain by blacking out on Tropical Isle Hand Grenades was unsuccessful.  What I saw was now burned into my memory for eternity.

My Mom is a Motor Boater…What has your Mom done lately?

Halloween

I always hated the dentist who lived behind me growing up, if for no other reason than for the crap he'd give out at Halloween - an orange, a toothbrush and toothpaste. I don't know why I even bothered stopping there except that the orange provided a nice projectile to hurl at his house.

Now there's this news story.

This dentist needs to be kicked in the balls. Then the parents who force their kid to sell this mustachioed creep their candy need a swift kick to their genital region as well.

Among the obvious problems I have with this story:

• A "dollar per pound" of candy? A g--d d--mn hershey bar cost $1.69, and this asshole is giving some oppressed little bastard a five dollar bill for what must have taken hours of work to obtain?


• Read the last line: "Candy must be unopened." Why? SO YOU CAN EAT IT, YOU PIECE OF SH--???!!

/end of rant.

How to Tame a Cougar

It was a Friday afternoon and I stopped at the local Ace Hardware to pick up some woodchips for my planned weekend BBQ.  As I hopped out of my truck I noticed that quite a lovely “Cougar” was giving me the eye…and on this day, I couldn’t really blame her because I was suited up from an all day corporate meeting and looking good.

As I got to the entrance of the store, said Cougar was right behind me so I politely held the door open for her so she could enter the store – And to allow me give her an eye pat-down of my own.

I made my way to the outdoor section to grab a bag of woodchips and I noticed that my lady friend was still staring at me.  Now, I’m a married man, but it is nice to be stalked every once in a while just to confirm that you still got it.

She looked as if she was working up the courage to approach me for a conversation as we both made our way to the cashier.  Me, being the gentleman that I am, allowed her in front of me so that she could check out first.  Once she received her receipt she finally was revved up enough to strike up a conversation with me.

“Excuse me, but how can you live with yourself when you are polluting our environment everyday by driving that massive truck.”

Now this caught me completely off guard.  I was somewhat expecting a “Desperate Housewives” moment in my mind and all I got was my ego completely slashed and attacked for driving an anti-environment vehicle.

My feelings where hurt and the only rebuttal that I could think of was, “How would you feel about picking woodchips out of your ass for the rest of the weekend?”

She did an immediate about-face and strut her tree hugging stuff right out the door with no reply.

The cashier could barely contain his laughter as he completed my order.

At least his day was made.

Walk of Shame

This past Easter, my wife and I went to visit my parents in North Alabama.  It was an ordinary visit with no spectacular events to speak of - until Saturday morning.

My wife and I attempted to sleep in due to the fact that we were on vacation, but with our internal clocks set on Eastern Standard Time, we only made it until 7:30.  Instead of attempting to extend my slumber, I decided to go for a quick run.

Not knowing my parent’s neighborhood all that well, I decided just to go 1.5 miles down the main drag and return on the same path – this decision ended quite poorly for me.

I had worked up a decent sweat about halfway through my run and had begun to make my way back towards my starting point, and there it hit me.  I was going to be sick, and not vomit sick…the other end.

Being a mile and a half away from home, in a newer subdivision where the trees were so young they could barely shelter a squirrel, I began to panic.  There was NO place to hide.  I thought to myself, “Surely someone will let me use their bathroom.”

I started to knock on doors.

A man in his mid fifties answered his door, gazes at me, a young man less than 30 years old, BEGGING him to allow me inside to use his facilities.

“No”

I explain to him that I will be forced to use his bushes as I will not be able to make it home.

“Try it, and I’ll call the cops.”

At that point, I knew I was done for. 

I ventured to 3 more homes, with “Mr. No-Entry” following my every move, and received similar answers… “No”.

By this time I was about a mile from home and decided that an all-out sprint was my last resort.  This, when you are seconds away from exploding, is about as fast as a human can waddle.   The whole time I was looking for ANY place I could hide and relieve myself.

I was on an island, and there was no escape.

With my parents house no more than 100 yards away, there was a breach in my defenses…and then at 50 yards – I surrendered.

I have never been so humiliated and relieved in my entire life.  As I slowly trod the final paces to my house, I look up and of course, my father was in the drive way.

In the Aston family, there are no secrets.  Therefore, my wife barged into the bathroom while I was filled to the brim with humiliation…among other things, and added insult to injury.

“If you wouldn’t have knocked on all those doors, you would have made it back home.”

Rocky Mountain Oysters

To piggyback on my brother-in-laws trouble on the mountains out west, I’d like to share another chronicle that occurred during that same trip.

My father-in-law enjoyed the finer things in life and could be heard frequently saying, “It only costs a little bit more to go first class.”

We all agreed whole-heartedly with this saying as he was footing the bill. 

From high-end lodging, top of the line ski goggles, gloves, boots, coats, etc, it could be said that he spared no expense – Except when purchasing thermal under garments.

As always, our wives father was the last one to return from skiing, as well as the first one out the door in the morning.  I’m still convinced that he was camped out at the bar the majority of the day, but he took joy in bragging about logging the most hours on the slopes, so we remained quiet.

When he returned from the slopes, the rest of the family had already showered, changed and downed the evening’s first cocktail.  We all were gathered around the kitchen table playing cards when he finally struts into the room.

Instead of heading upstairs to his bedroom to change, he decided that the family room was a sufficient disrobing area. There he stood, a man in his early 60’s, actually taking his pants off in front of his 3 adult daughters and 3 son-in-laws.

We did our best to ignore the impending disaster until he eliminated any chance of avoidance. He was all but naked when he propped his leg up on the kitchen table bench that my wife was sitting on.

“What ya‘ll playing?”

My wife turned beet red before shielding her eyes behind her playing cards.

Nobody answered.

There he stood, elbow on bent knee, wearing white thermal underwear that he may have used when he was a boy scout. They were so worn out, they might classify better as fishnet stockings.

My wife, still sitting in terror and disbelief, as her father, a 6’5, 300lb bear, had his meat hammock displayed proudly for all of us to see.

As it turns out, our father-in-law could brag on more than just hours spent on the slopes.

Rocky Mountain Low

My father-in-law was a man born of the mountains, in a small burg up West Virginia way, though his true passion lay west in the Rockies.

He was passionate about fishing, hunting, etc., and would often travel to the western part of our great country in order to do so. As a way of attempting to transfer his passion to become our passion, on several occassions he would take all of us skiing in Colorado.

I'm not sure there was a single one of us who necessarily looked forward to the actual "skiing" portion of the trip, nor did it make sense that a man of his age and hobbled knees desire to perform such an activity, but one thing I learned in my years married to his daughter, whatever he said, goes.

Being that all of us were primarily born and raised in the South, none of us were particularly adept skiers, myself especially. I never could figure why anyone would choose to voluntarily hoist themselves to the peak of a 2 mile-high mountain only to try not to die on the way back down. So in my case, making it from top to bottom was always dicey, at best.

It was during these dicey ventures that I began to understand my place in the heirarchy of my relatively new family.

On one particular spot on the mountain we reached a flat part of the slope with a wide swath of snow that allowed you to ski in several different directions to reach the same point. I opted, unwisely, to travel a different way from the rest of the family.

Casually coasting, I reached an upward grade and noticed myself slowing to a stop as I reached about midway up the slope. This is one of those "oh sh*t" moments where you realize there are no brakes on skis, nor a steering wheel. As I began to gradually slide in the opposite (read: wrong) direction, I found myself headed towards a cluster of pine trees. The speed was not of concern - it was the approximately 6 foot drop between the surface and the loose powdered snow surrounding the trees.

As it was described to me (from my own family who stood nearby to watch), it was as if I was there...and then suddenly....*poof*....I was gone.

So at this point I am down in a hole with skis pointed skyward, I figured about 3 to 4 feet in. It was at that point I heard "Don't help him!".

It was my father-in-law, instructing my wife and her siblings not to assist me "or you'll just fall in with him." I'm not sure how they heard this over their own laughter, but the message was clearly received as I had to figure my own way out of my snowy grave (which I did, eventually).

It was several years later when he invited us to go back. Have you ever heard the saying that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

Myself, my wife, and my father-in-law are riding the ski lift up to the mountain top. For some reason I am in the middle and he is on the right side. As he was the size of the mountain itself (about 6'5, 300 lbs.) our chair tilted precariously to his side, threatening to snap the cable.

As we reached the top, my wife stands easily and skis off toward the rest of our family already waiting. Mr. Senstitive to my right, bad knees and 300 lbs, opts to use me as his personal walker in order to stand up off the lift. With nothing for me to balance myself, I suddenly find myself trying to stand up on skis with the gravity of Jupiter pressing on my shoulders. Naturally, I fall face first underneath the revolving chair lift as he skis merrily off to the rest of the family.

Instead of a snow-crevasse, I am now faced with dodging ski lift chairs whipping around at my head and no way to stand up (or move out of the way, since I am still wearing those g** d**** skis).

A kindly stranger finally ran up and hit the emergency stop for me. Certainly not my father-in-law, nor any of the rest of my family who not surprisingly were standing there laughing at my misfortune (once again).

The stories of my misadventures would be recounted at virtually every dinner thereafter when we'd get together. Never once did my father-in-law accept any blame for pushing me off the chair lift, or saying "you know, we probably should have at least offered a ski pole to help you out of that hole you so hilariously fell into." At least, not until years later at the 2,143rd telling of the story, when he finally admitted, "you know, I might have pushed you a little on the lift".

What Not to Say to Your Pregnant Wife

On this weeks edition of “Closing the Door On…”, I will attempt to close the door on expelling verbal diarrhea towards my pregnant wife.

My wife and I have a great relationship are always clowning on each other. It is always back and forth and we typically enjoy the banter.

Once we found out that we are going to be first time parents this winter, I have done my best to ease up on the smartalec comments as the hormones are dripping off of the walls in every room of our home.

Well, the dam was sure to break sooner or later… and it did.  

I had a bad day at work and once I got home nothing was out of the norm.  Yes, my wife was a bit on the moody side, but nothing for me to complain about – that is, if I were having a good day.

Even though it wasn’t my best day, I still tried to control myself.  Instead of verbalizing my comment, I just bore a sly grin.  My wife caught the grin and knew I had something to say and demanded that I revealed it.  

So I did…

“Are you sure you’re pregnant? Because you’re acting more like you’re on your period”.

Not my best idea.

Cool racist grandma

My Grandma was born in Georgia in 1919 in a time where our country, and more specifically the South, was still feeling some of the ripple effects of the Civil War. Certainly, slavery had been abolished, the union preserved, but there were still the undercurrents of racism - not just in the South but everywhere. While blacks were now afforded certain "rights", all things were not equal.

I doubt I have to explain the dynamics between whites and blacks in those days. Generally speaking, southern whites who had the means could afford to hire someone black to handle practically all of the day-to-day chores and child care. This was the case with my grandparents. And naturally (albeit somewhat embarrassingly), that particular person was referred to as "Mammy" to my family in those days.

"Mammy" was beloved by my grandparents as well as my father, whom she primarily raised as a young boy - though realistically I surmise she did not revere my family in the same light. It seems as if those of that generation always assume their hired help loved them unconditionally, in spite of what I am sure were not the greatest of situations.

To fast-forward through time a bit, my Grandma had developed dementia by her late 80's and had started to become a bit of a handful. My father, by comparison, had just been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. Before my father got too bad and was still able to drive himself, he would often visit my grandma and offer to drive her around primarily as a distraction from her day-to-day issues with being alone in her house. A man with Alzheimer's driving around a woman with dementia is sort of like the blind leading the blind, and that recipe would come to a boil one particular day.

Driving aimlessly around town as they would often do, Dad and Grandma pulled into a convenience store to buy some coffee. As they parked, a young attractive black woman exited the store. My Grandma exclaimed to my father while still in the car, "I believe that's Mammy's granddaughter!" Never mind that my Grandmother had probably not seen "Mammy" in over 50 years or that she wouldn't know "Mammy's" granddaughter from Adam's house cat - she was convinced she had accurately spotted the offspring of "Mammy". She then convinced my father to inquire.

My father still had the presence of mind to recount the story to me, but obviously did not have the presence of mind to logically conclude what he was about to do probably warranted him being shot dead by this young woman. With conviction that my Grandma was right, but without the realization of what he had done, Dad told me "so I walked up to her and asked 'Are you "Mammy's" granddaughter?"

I asked him if he was summarily punched in the face immediately after the question. He paused for a moment, thought about what he had just said and with a hint of regret said, "Oh...".

But that story isn't what I'm ultimately getting to. That's a story of a woman who grew up in a time where those things were considered acceptable, and she no longer had the self-awareness to conscientiously stop herself from saying something in a time where it was no longer acceptable (nor did my father). In her mind, she loved "Mammy", and "Mammy" loved her. Why wouldn't her granddaughter be delighted to know she was still alive and thinking of Grandma Mammy?

Prior to that lowly time in her life, my uncle had bought my grandma as a birthday gift a trip to New York City, her first ever visit. First class plane tickets.

When the day came to depart, my uncle and grandma boarded the plane, only to find a woman was already sitting in her first class seat. My grandma informed the stewardess someone was in her seat.

"Oh, that's Coretta Scott King," the stewardess told my grandma in a hushed tone. "She flies with us often and she takes a seat wherever she wants."

Apparently, as it was explained to my grandma, Mrs. King never bought plane tickets. Whenever she wanted to fly, she'd just show up at the gate and walk aboard. And when she chose a seat, it was always in first class.

My grandma took all this in and said "I don't care who that is. She is sitting in my seat, which my son paid for. If you don't remove her I will."

The shocked stewardess had several discussions with the other attendants, and shortly another conversation with Mrs. King. Mrs. King chose another seat.

The fact was, Grandma didn't take crap from anyone.

The other fact was, growing up in the South prior to the civil rights, if you were white, probably meant you were a racist...at least in some form or fashion. And on the surface, that's what appears to be the case. Old, southern white lady, likely dressed to the nines (as my grandma always was) kicking Coretta Scott King out of her first class seat.

But the cool thing about my grandma was, it didn't matter that it was Coretta Scott King. It didn't matter that she was black. It mattered she was in her seat.

Nope, Grandma wouldn't take crap from anyone. When her 20 year old car needed a new bumper and it took 2 weeks to get one, she called and demanded to speak to Lee Iaccoaca (or whoever might be above him at the Chrysler Corporation). When I bought the wrong flavor of ice cream, she demanded I return it in spite of my protests (you can return food to a grocery store?). When her next door neighbor's dog was bothering her, she gave it away to the next passerby.....hm.

Maybe she was just a jerk.

"Be the Person Your Dog Thinks You Are"

I’m driving home from work and I see this bumper sticker on the back of an Eco Friendly hybrid:

“Be the person your dog thinks you are”

Now, I am going to assume that this sticker is written for those dog owners who carry their dogs around in purses and refuse to beat them even in the event that they have just crapped pieces of couch cushion into their $150 loafers. 

In that event, sure, the world could use more pushovers.

On the other hand, you have people like me who are quite the disciplinarians.  If my dogs could talk, I can bet you that they wouldn’t agree that treating the general public in the same manner would be acceptable.  Unless of course, if strapping a shock collar on my co-workers and shocking the piss out of them every time they do something that doesn’t please me is acceptable.

If that is the case, then the author of this bumper sticker is my new hero.

"Closing the Door on...."

A weekly staple of this blog will include short posts about things that I or my family have said, done, or been a part of that we will attempt, and I stress…ATTEMPT…not to repeat. Therefore we will take a stab at “Closing the Door On” certain slip-ups in judgment that we have been a part of.

In our first installment, ODP will Close the Door on “Status Hijacking”.

This past Labor Day, the phone belonging to a female friend of mine was left unattended – AND logged into Facebook.  At this point in the evening I had already exceeded my quota on the champagne of beers and posted this on her page

You know how I know were having sex tonight? I’m stronger than you are!

And if that wasn’t enough, an hour later, posted:

If I were that good at it, the only reason that I would keep my job is so I could afford the chap-stick.

She was slightly amused upon realizing what I had done – Until her mother called and assumed that it was her boyfriend that made the posts.

My bad…

Blue and Snapper

Some years back, my family and I were traveling to my birth place in Louisiana for my Papaw’s funeral.  Regardless of the occasion, the mandatory first stop upon arrival was to the drive thru daiquiri hut.  Not because we’re closet alcoholics, but for the mere fact that spending a weekend with our family requires a substantial bump in blood alcohol content...for a normal visit.  This being a funeral trip, we opted for the “High Octane” moonshine package.

As with most families, a funeral will gather family members from across the country at the drop of a hat.  Ours in no different, except for this boiling pot to assemble, some legal strings would have to be pulled…literally.

Life in the Jenkins family, my Mother’s side, went one of two ways.  A life dedicated to God, or a life dedicated to mischief.  Papaw Jenkins and the majority of his brothers decided on the latter, leading into quite an audience for the weekend services. 

The funeral parlor was near capacity and I looked to my Dad and asked him who the hell all these people were.  Based upon Papaw Jenkins reputation and dealings during his lifetime, my father’s response was flawless, “Son, I believe that 30 percent of these folks are family or friends paying their respects, the remainder are here to make sure that Papaw Jenkins is actually dead.”

Included in the 30% were the Jenkins boys. Of the four brothers, only 3 were in attendance, including Papaw Jenkins.  The oldest, Darrel, current resident at Louisiana State Penitentiary, attempted reprieve but was denied well before the ink dried on his request.

Dennis, the baby, was only present at the viewing after being granted temporary release from Acadia Parish Rehabilitation Center.

Donald, the sole brother without ties to crime, was also present – thankfully, as most of us had never met Darrel or Dennis…and yes, all the brother’s names begin with D.

Stories of past/current run-ins with the law and trouble they encountered littered the parlor with Donald narrating each story accurately, as he was usually the recipient of the sole phone call from the Sherriff’s office.

Once Donald introduced us to our long lost Uncle Dennis, we all began to warm up to him.  Not having seen Dennis since we were all young children, if ever, we asked the typical, non rehab questions - Kids, wife, pets, etc?

Dennis responded kindly, “Oh yes, I’ve been divorced for quiet a while, and was going to bring Blue and Snapper with me, but Blue is too damn big to fit in the car, and Snapper is so fat and lazy he never wants to get off the couch.”

My Mother responded, “Uncle Dennis, Good lord, what kind of dogs do you have.”

Dennis, although quite confused with the question, promptly answered my Mother, “Blue and Snapper aren’t my dogs, there your first cousins!”

Introduction

First off, let me say "welcome" to Open Door Policy.  While you've already been introduced with the story of my brother-in-law and the gas station, I wanted to offer a more formal explanation of what this blog will be about.

This blog was conceived by my brother-in-law some time back, with the idea of telling the stories of our family with no holding back, no-holds-barred, full disclosure.  Thus, "Open Door Policy". 

This philosophy fits my brother-in-law perfectly.  He talks sometimes when he shouldn't.  He says things that sometimes better judgement tells you you just shouldn't say.  This is clearly demonstrated in the previous post.  You'd expect this story to be something you might overhear at his funeral - "so, how did he die?"... "well, he was murdered by a gas station attendant".

What it means is you will hopefully be entertained by things that ordinarily one doesn't do or say, with a few other humorous encounters mixed in. 

While our family would appear perfectly normal by any casual observer, as you return to visit you will see it is anything but.  And if this blog goes the way I expect that it might, the ending will very likely read "and then, they were murdered."

Saturday in the South

This past Saturday morning, I was passing through Birmingham, Alabama on my way home from a brief road trip.  I ventured into Leeds, Alabama's finest truck stop to fill up on gas and wake up with some high quality coffee.

As an Auburn Alum, and it being football season in the south, I was sporting an Auburn University Polo. Being in the state of Alabama, my home state at that, I am very well aware of the incumbent trash talk to be endured by publicly endorsing your side of the Alabama/Auburn rivalry - BUT, this morning, it was a bit too much.

When entering the station, I was greeted with, "Oh hell, another Barner gracing our store this morning" - The first warning shot over the proverbial Auburn bow, by the cashier dressed in Wal-Mart's finest replica "Roll Tide Roll" Starter jersey.  With no response, I figured the firing would cease...I was wrong.  Alabama's finest fan decided to continue his onslaught with such well thought out insults as:

"Did Cam Newton's Dad buy your gas?"
"How early did you have to get up to milk those cow's down at your cow college"
"Will under armour take away your shirt too when the NCAA takes Auburn's National Championship"

I felt my neck start to swell, but still had no intention of responding to the elephant in the room. 

I made my way to the check out counter, passing a display of Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pies, with a hand written advertisement above them, "Nick Saban's Breakfast of Champions, 3 for $1", I had to laugh.  Not at the implicit humor of Alabama fans worshiping all that is Nick Saban, but the fact that "Breakfast" was spelled wrong the first time, without the E.  Therefore, when added in, it looked more like BR^eAKFAST.

As I was paying for my coffee, the cashier promptly began to throw out the insults -
"Why do you root for Auburn?"  - Well Sir, I went to college there.
"Did you study trailer park construction?"
"Could you not get into Alabama?"

Doing my best to ignore the brute, as he did substantially outweigh me, I kept quiet - But I had quite enough at this point.  As he gave me my change, he had one last parting blow, "Why in the hell would you ever go to college at Awwwwburn?"

As my blood finally began to boil, I obliged him with a concise, yet effective answer

"So I would never have to work at a gas station"