Monday, July 23, 2007


How Good a Reader are You?

I received this heartbreaking email from Ajide Duaka, a deaf deaf boy in an African refuge camp. Following the email is a reading comprehension test. [It goes without saying that I immediately contacted Mr. Duaka to see how I could help him. It appears from our conversations that he mostly needs credit information and bank numbers!]


My name is Ajide Duaka,the only son of Mr and Mrs Danda Duaka. It's my pleasure to contact you for a business venture, which I intend to establish with you and in your country.I'm a deaf deaf boy for your information.

Though I have not met with you before but I believe, one has to risk confiding in someone to succeed sometimes in life. I am the son of the Late Danda Duaka, from Nshili District of Gikomgoro Province in the Republic of Rwanda. My father before his death was a successful Gold marchant. Barely a week my Father returned from his usual Europe business trips, on Wednesday 14th March 2006, he was attacked and killed by some unknown assassins.

The Police could not trace the killers till today, and because i do not know those behind his brutal killing and their reasons i decide to run for my life, I felt out of fear that my safety is not guaranteed, that is the reason why I decided to relocate to the Refugees Camp here in Zaire D.R.Congo.

My mother died immidiately after given my birth according to my late father, before the untimely death of my father, we were very close to each other, which made him to give me informations on a very huge amount of US$8.6,000,000.00 (Eigth Point Six Million United States Dollars only), which he kept for me in a Bank in another Country (full informations to be disclosed later to you on confirmation of your acceptance to assist me).

I have decided to invest this money in your country or anywhere safe enough outside Africa for security purposes. I want you to help me to invest the money after transferrin the money from the Bank to your account or anywhere trusted account as you may advise, as I cannot be able to do the transaction alone here in another Country and in Refugees Camp that is why I contact you for helping me contact the Bank and submitt to them your Banking information that they may needs for the transfer.


1) What was Ajide Duaka's father's job?
a) He was an unknown assassin
b) He was Governor of Nshili District
c) He was a successful gold marchent
d) He worked for a Bank in Another Country

2) How much money does Ajide Duaka have (only)?
a) No money
b) $8,600,000
c) $8.60
d) -$8.60

3) Why does Ajide Duaka live in the Refugees Camp in Eastern Part of Zaire D.R. Congo?
a) He is scared of unknown assassins
b) He is scared of his father
c) Top-flight internet service is available there
d) Good place to be if you are deaf deaf

Clearly, the secret to winning friends and influencing people is to begin business correspondence with "Dearest."
A gold marchant? Sounds like a situation for Tradelawguy to sort out.

Maybe he can convince this fellow in Zaire to contribute some funds to rebuilding Tyd's house.
Never fear, TLG to the rescue...Don't be suckered by this appeal to your sloth and greed - there is no gold, no deaf boy, and no dead parents in Rwanda. I know, I know, you are crushed and find it hard to believe that this could actually be a scam designed to take advantage of the generosity of law professors in Texas. IPLG - I will have the misfortune of traveling to the birthplace of these impressive missives, Nigeria, in the next few months and assure you that if I find any gold or other such "found money" I will donate it ALL to the Tyd Foundation (pun intended).
Is 2/3 passing?
Maybe I should send out a letter like this to cyberspace or Craig's list hahahah I see letters like this on there all the time.......

Dearest sirs.

I come from poor village Canby OR. There are no jobs here at all I know because I have gone on 1700 interviews in the past four months I finally had to get a job to support my family peddling lightbulbs from a cart in the street at the side of the freeway. I am being blackmailed by an artisan tile installer named habib. He blew up my house and made my family homeless just so that he could retile my bathroom And ktchen backsplash./

I am the daughter of a very sarcastic oncologist and an eccentric 1955 Delta Zeta who worked as a Social worker by day and lived in a noel coward play by night. My husband sings the blues all day and night and my son is so starved for affection that he leaves his popsicles all over this rental hut. I live in a village in France currently full of evil anal people who really quiet and like their Italian greyhounds more than their children.

One night whiskers and plaid guys came thru our town looting and pillaging and they ripped all of the flooring out of our house. They replaced it all with floor that looked like a Moose Lodge and this made my dog cry. Later other men came and took away all of the countertops and reaplaced them with hard hard stone and Habib laughed and said HA I will charge you so much for your tile you will have to use these hard stones for your bed.,

My dog was sold to a blueberry farmer in rural Molalla and we will never see him again. We had to get a new dog that has a poisonous evil licking tongue. I have dream to have new house built, because one day the sky opened up and rained fire and guitar parts and my 2500 square foot hut was destroyed. I need helps of generous people with lots of time to kill I need people to go through my house and catalogue everything I own so that the insurance co will give me back my house.

There are evildoers that have caused me much pain and I have to pay the magistrate $300 a minute to gain my freedom and my house back. Please help me kind sir I am a humble person with an eveil tongued dog. I must eat only seedless watermelon all day and night.

Please help me gain my freedom and from the oppressive habib and the horribleness of likfe on the blueberry farm.

Thank You

Wait-- didn't the DOG have to go live on a blueberry farm?? Why are you there, too?
Initially the dog the first dog, was sold into dog slavery by an evil blueberry farmer. MUSH!!! You will pick the berries! We will sell them at a premium at farmstands all over town until everyone is so freaking sick of blueberries they want to barf. Just like we do with Asparagus in the spring!'

We were all okay here in Fake France. The name of our village is really Fake France but it was callously renamed by some evil developers allwith Marketing Degrees and called ARBOR VILLEBOIS. I hear when Phase Four is completed there will be a charming little group of shops below very cosmopolitan Fake French lofts. No national chain stores, either just local crafts people selling overprice pottery and batik clothing.... but then the plan changed and Starbucks is set to open any day... which is the coffee equivalent of McDonalds.

Well we were somewhat happy living here in McFrance even though we ate only rutabagas and rhubarb and other root plants that begin with R

but then the evil toddler Donut found our hide out. We beggeed him not to turn us in to the bad blueberry farmer... we tried bribing him with Goldfish, juiceboxes, string cheese ... but nothing worked. SO here we are on the farm working thru pickling cucumber season and dreading mushy tomato season. We will work our fingers til they ache only to face pumpkin/ Hayride/ Cider season.

I am gonna get that Donut if its the last thing I do. If I EVER get my hands on him I am going to tie him to his Little Tikes chair with his jumprope and a sippy cup full of Pepto, and sit him in front of the TV that plays ONLY MacNeil Lehrer, QVC, Rachel Ray and "Who's the Boss?" re runs.
Why couldn't The Police handle it? They were too busy singing "Message in a Bottle".
Rachel Ray?! Surely you go too far Tyd! Just make him read her cookbooks, isn't that enough?

But where in France can we send donations and/or seedless watermelon?
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