Memorable Quote to LIVE by:

"If you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it, or else you're going to be locked up." Dr. Hunter S. Thompson

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

An Oldie But a Goodie

Greetings my Fellow and Fae Psychopaths!  Thew I.R. here with one that dates back to August 2007... when I was still in Kuwait, Dead Dad was Live-but-Cancer-Infested-Dad, and shit was dry as a bone.  I present for the studio viewing audience a blast from the past:  Enjoy and feel free to tip the waiter!

The IR here and boy… what news I have.  I’m retiring.  Yep… no more financial troubles for me.  Screw the world, I’m Rich.  How is this possible you say?  Well, according to my latest and greatest, (seeings this’s about the majority of my email these days)  I have the following “hotspots” going for me:

“When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of $9.Million (Nine Million U.S. Dollars)in a security company here in Abidjan Recently, my Doctor told me that I have serious sickness which is related to cancer . The one that disturbs me most is my stroke sickness... On Knowing my condition I decided to donate this fund to a church or
individual that will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein.”

“He died after a brief illness that lasted for only four days. Before his death we were both born again Christians and we lived happily in the Lord. Since his death, I decided not to re-marry or get a child outside my matrimonial home which the Bible is really against.
When my late husband was alive he secured $15Million (Fifteen Million 
U.S.Dollars) in financial institution here in Cote D'Ivoire.  Presently, this money is still with the financial institution.  Recently, my Doctor told me that from all the test conducted on my health, I am not going to last long, especially, due to my cancer and 
stroke. But what disturbs me most now is stroke.”

“My late husband was the prince of Buake, a town in Ivory Coast where I lived with him until his death in February 13th 2006.My late husband was a carefree, open-minded and considerate person which  I believed contributed largely to his death. He never withheld these qualities from his subjects. The people he ruled. This is why it was easy for him to be poisoned. His death was suspected to have been carried out by one of his subjects.  My husband called me in his palace one faithful Friday afternoon.  He told me of the money ( 9. 5 million us dollars) he deposited in a security company here in  Abidjan. The capital city of Ivory Coast West Africa. He told me this exactly 3 months before his death.”

OK… so you get the idea… But wait… there’s more!!!  (To keep it simple, I’ll just relate the sums…)

$92.5 Million USD”
“$8.5million dollars”
“U.S $ 5.500.000.00”

Now, according to ALL the emails I’ve received (8 in less than 2 weeks) this means I have sitting in a Bank (or three) in Abidjad, in the Ivory Coast, Africa the grand sum of $975,000,000 dollars awaiting my “immediate access!”
This means I have over one eighth of that ENTIRE GNP of that country at my disposal… (The GNP being $8,416,000,000)

Drinks are on me when I get home.

Anyways… besides the reality of the stupidity of the Nigerian Email scams… Man I wonder how the FUCK I got pegged into that whole spam-a-rific line of bullshit.  Poor grammar, even worse spelling… I couldn’t even do shit with this fucking letter until I corrected the spelling in the ‘outtakes’ as the spellchecker in the New version of Office 2007 is rather insistent to say the least…   I half expected the little dog that popped up to jump off the screen and threaten me if the grammatical errors weren’t corrected…. “Fix it NOW motherfucker!!!!  Do it NOW or I’ll delete your entire star dot doc file directory!!!!!”  (pardon the geekspeak fro those of you who have no clue… that’s a really BAD thing to have happen if you ain’t aware of it!)

But yeah… The only one of the Nigerian-Email scams I’ve even remotely thought of responding to was the one simpleton who sent me the email claiming to be in refugee status here in Kuwait.  I’ve been thinking of making it a “oh yeah?  I just happen to be in Kuwait myself, and am willing to meet with you to discuss the particulars of the money exchange.”  I’d be curious to see how the reaction would be to that…   I’m sure they’d attempt to beg off or something… after all… it would be fun to show up and meet one of these freakish scumbags who have ruined so many people back in the states and all over the world.  Granted, most of the pinheads who fall for this scam deserve what they get, (too much money, not enough common sense), but still…   it might be a balm for me to get a good workout beating them against a dumpster or two, and allow me to vent a bit of frustration at my current dealio.  

After all… the ole Intrepid Reporter has had a few rough weeks, and what without booze, broads or drugs to mellow me, I’ve been a bit on “EDGE” lately, and it’s coming to a head. 
If I don’t get some time off in the near future, I’m thinking I might volunteer back with Blackwater to go up North again, if only to have the ability to kill some motherfuckers again without the worries of certain legal aspects of said maimings and mutilations.

My issue?  Well, let me relate a few things… The current name for my pain is the Penis-With-Lips or "Dickhead" as I affectionately call him. My new partner whom I've been joint in the unholy bond of being stuck with his most unpleasant ass.... I am stuck working with possibly the most unpleasant human being (if he can be realistically called that... I think he's not fucking human but the extension of some giant phallus from beyond) on the face of the planet. How he ever managed to spawn is beyond me, as he's so unpleasant that the concept of a female being willing to sit still long enough to become impregnated by this repulsive shitdick is beyond my ken. Needless to say I never want to see this reputed female as she has got to be vaguely reminiscent of Rosie O'Bloated on Crack, or at least to my twisted thought process she has to be. The worst part is I'm stuck with him because I'm widely known for my ability to get along with anyone. It's been said that I could find common ground with anyone and get along with them. Hell, I could possibly maybe find something partially redeemable in Adolph Hitler... I dunno... trade mustache grooming tips? (How the fuck should I know?) Yeah... but because of this ability to "get along with others" I'm stuck with someone I have YET to find a single redeeming thing about him. Possibly that he's a decent Oxygen-Carbon Dioxide Processing Carbon Based Lifeform? Possibly?
I fucking doubt it. 
He’s lucky to be alive in my book.
Hell, he’s lucky to be breathing still in ANYONES book.
So anyways, I’m stuck with this asshole at least for now, or until I kill him or the bosses get the idea that he’s going to die painfully. 
Whew… needed that.  This no booze shit is killing me. 
All Donations greatly appreciated:
Big Country
APO AE 09366
Just don’t leave any ‘real’ return addresses on it, and DON’T label the contents in the customs form.  My advice?  Vodka or other beverages put into plastic water bottles, sealed with duct tape and wrapped in bubble wrap.  These are just my suggestions.  All donations will be gratefully received and then returned with either a hajji-head wrap as the return gifty, or a neat boonie hat with a “My Friend was in Kuwait and all I got was this fucking hat” on it or some such consolation prize.
Yeah… Its not for a lack of trying.  I managed to connect with the Black Market and at which point I tried the Grey Market, and even the “Lighter Shade of White” market…  what I found was booze here is more expensive than some of the most expensive boozes in the States…   as in a Bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label runs $200 for a liter…  Granted, great scotch, and a great price that’s apropos for said boozage…

But when yer talking 35KD for a jug of “Might Be Jack” in a Jack bottle… we got problems…. 
To whit: 35KD is about $125 US Dollars…. For a fifth of what might or MIGHT not be Jack Daniels…  It’s a tough call as it might be a poor imitation that’ll leave you fucking blind (literally!) or sick as fuck if yer not careful…  either that or it’s a imitation Jack that tastes like Jack that’s been filtered through an NFL player’s dirty Jockstrap after a full game.  Yeah… Great Images huh?  Well just imagine the taste and that’s the kind of chance yer taking with these dirty bastid hajjis and their religious zeal to ban all that’s fun and liquor oriented.
Goddamned Killjoys is what they are.

So yeah, I’m now booze free, drug free, broad free, and ah yes… the latest news?  Smoke free.
Yep going on two solid months of cold turkey.  “Wow!” you say?  Yep…  two months of absolute cold smoke freeness.  “How?” you ask?  Well.  Let me tell ya… the four magic words that if spoken to you would GAR-RON-DAMN-TEE that you stop smoking.

Try:  Fathers. Terminal. Lung. Cancer.

Yeah…  not to be melodramatic but the Ole IR’s Dad is a dead man walking.  At least he is for like the 10th time in 20 years.  I won’t believe he’s done until he stops asking for Bourbon.  In all seriousness, this isn’t the first time he’s been told he’s dying, but in this particular instance, the Doc are pretty sure about the Cancer, but don’t know how long he has.  He’s supposed to do Chemo in the next few, so I took the liberty of buying him a Shisha (shee-sha correct pronouncement on that FYI) which is also more popularly known as a Hooka.  I figured what the hell right?  When I told him about it he asked me pointedly “What the hell am I going to do with a Hooka?” to which I told him that pretty much he’s too old to be hitting one of them little pot-pipes and he doesn’t have the dexterity to roll doobies, so why not smoke his weed with a little style?  I mean really… chemo is a bitch and he’s gonna need to do something… I mean hell, he may not be a dope smoker, but if he wants to make it thru chemo, it’s my recommendation.  Either that or drink heavily… but then again, that’s my recommendation for everything these days.

It would seem that the colon cancer was cured, but the rest of him is slowly going bad.  Go figure.  The funniest thing is that the docs can’t believe him when he tells them how much he used to drink.  His liver is, in fact, pristine, (which gives me great hope for MY future as the next Bukowski.)  Y’all have to understand… the Senior IR was/is a world class boozehound of international repute.  When asked his blood type in the past his answer was “86 Proof.”  In fact, the majority of his health problems began when he started to slow down (on doctors orders no less!) and NOT booze as much… Myself, I think there’s a Grade-A malpractice suit in there for that.  I think he should have asked my boy Bluto Blutarsky.

Bluto to Flounder: “My advice… is to start drinking.(hands Flounder a 12 pack) Heavily.”
Otter to Flounder:  “You’d better listen Flounder, Bluto’s Premed.”

Yeah… booze is definitely the way to go.  Me, I stopped smoking on news of the Old Man… lets face it… Cancer is definitely passed on in the family, and I’m better off NOT doing something that may or may NOT happen to contribute to the potential nastiness right?  So I’m smoke free.  At least for now.  If I go back to Iraq, all bets are off.

Yeah.  Been looking at going up north again.  A lot depends on lot though… salary, location and if the war in fact is going to continue.  I’ll leave that for the subject of my next email either way, as I have to get going right now.  Duty calls per usual.
Until the next mind-drooling-draining episode, I remain
The Intrepid Reporter
Big Country
August 30, 2007 In Kuwait

1 comment:

  1. I learned about Soju in Kuwait as a contractor and could get it from the Korean workers down by the mall. Before the kickoff of OIF when I was active duty I set the A-10 pilots up with DSN phones and NIPR net drops in their hooch's. A bottle of Pinch blended scotch somehow appeared under the steps of my trailer every three or four days. Like any good senior NCO I made that booze disappear.