Frenchy's Rant

Here’s a new twist on an old favorite spam scam that I received today. My reply is below the message. The funny thing about these spam emails is I never hear back from the person, and I never seem to get the money either.

Mrs Esther Prakash

P.O.Box: 20581, Safat

13066 Safat Kuwait

Dearest in Christ,

Greetings in the Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, I am Mrs Esther Prakash. I am married to Mr Prakash Anderson who worked with Kuwait embassy in Ivory Coast for many years before he died in the year 2006.We were married without a child. He died after a brief illness that lasted for only four days.

When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of (($2.600.000.00) Two million six hundred thousand Dollars in a Bank in Ivory Coast. Recently, my Doctor told me that I would not last for the next Eight months due to cancer problem.

I Have decided to donate this fund to you so that you will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct you.

I want you to use this fund for orphanages, school and, widows, and to endeavour that the house of God is maintained. I took this decision because I don’t have any child that will inherit this money and my husband relatives are not Christians.

I don’t want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly way. This is why I am taking this decision.

I don’t need any telephone communication in this regard because of my health and hence the presence of my husband抯 relatives is around me always. I don’t want them to know about this development.

As soon as I receive your reply I shall give you the contact of the Bank in Ivory Coast. I await your soonest response with your full information, example.

Your full name…………………..

Address………………………………..

Age……………………………………..

A copy of your int’l passport or ID card………….

I will use the above information to obtain an authority letter that will prove you the new beneficiary of this fund from Royal Court of Kuwait.

Any delay in your reply will give me room searching another church or individual for this same purpose. Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I Stated herein. Hoping to receive your reply with the above information.

Take care,

Your Sister in Christ,

Mrs Esther Prakash.

My Response:

Dear Esther,

Wow. What else can I say but WOW?!? Just the other day I decided to test out ‘the power of prayer’ and ask God for a huge pile of money. And then I receive your email this morning. Hallelujah! An email from a perfect stranger in a pretend place called Kuwait that wants to give me two million bucks! The Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways, now I can add spam email to that list of mysteries.

Aside from the obvious illegality of this spam scam, one other thing you said in your message bothers me. You said want me to use this money to make sure the house of God is maintained. Will it be good enough if I take the money and build myself a huge mansion with two swimming pools and a tennis court and then call my new palace The House of God? Personally, this idea seems a bit blasphemous, even to me, but still, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play tennis.

If this does not suit you, I could always install one of those statues that cries blood or something. People love that stuff. I could then charge them a lot of money to come see my fake bleeding statue. You know, Esther, we could really be on to something here! Send me that money!

So, you need my full name and all this stuff that all the other spammers want? OK Here it is:

Snickerdoodle F. Rumplemintz (The F. stands for Frangelico, in case you were wondering)

555 Mary Jane Lane

Fartbag, ND

My age? Old enough to know better

I do not have a passport, because as a proud resident of Fartbag, I do not believe that any other countries or places actually exist.

Please hurry up and send me the money before you join the late great Prakash Anderson in the Spammer Hall of Shame in the sky.

Sincerely,

Snickerdoodle

PS: I just noticed that your LAST name is also your husband抯 FIRST name… care to explain that one to me?

This is my first official fan mail, from the Great State of Tennessee.

Click on the letter for a larger, more legible version.

Thank you, Tennessee, but I only claim islands and pseudo-islands for the Kingdom. Besides, you were already claimed by the North way back on May 10th, 1865.

Love ya, mean it!

Hangover or not, the day’s plan was to ride to Fire Island, about two hundred miles in the wrong direction, and for what? To get some pictures of the Fire Island Lighthouse of course! The weather was unusually nice, a rarity when Rain Cloud Follows is on the road. After some trouble getting up from the previous night’s excesses, and a few choice promises to a few choice deities to never again do whatever caused all that morning’s pain ever again, MiniAbi and I were headed to Long Island.

Long Island is confusing. Even with a GPS, a paper map and a divining rod, hell, even if I had Magellan in my tankbag instead of a stupid little plastic guy, I still would get lost like a little baby squirrel in that maze of a place.

So I backtracked, U-turned and otherwise floundered and stumbled my way to Fire Island. When I got there, the access road to the lighthouse was closed, of course. The lighthouse looked to be about a half mile away, so I decided to park at the beach and walk. This decision would have definitely been different had I not been riding alone. But wait, I wasn’t really alone. What about MiniAbi?

MiniAbi decided to stay and hang out at the beach. Frustrating. If only there was something I could do, some way to get through to this guy that by constantly vetoing everything, he’s constantly missing out.

The half mile walk ended up being closer to two miles, and I was tired and hungry when I reached the lighthouse. A ranger was standing outside the building grilling hamburgers. I walked up to him and offered him twenty bucks for one, I was so hungry. No vegetarians in this party! He looked at me like I was nuts, but changed his tune when I pulled out the money.

That was the best, most expensive hamburger I’ve ever eaten!

Fire Island Lighthouse

And the lighthouse wasn’t too shabby either. They offered a tour to the top, which normally I would take. But it was about twenty million stairs to the top, so, since nobody was there to call me a pussy, I passed and checked out the gift shop instead.

In the gift shop, I found what I considered the perfect gift to make MiniAbi appreciate lighthouses. And when I found him sleeping on the beach, I gave it to him before he woke up.

A lighthouse tattoo on the back of his head. If that doesn’t make him appreciate lighthouses, nothing will.

I told him it was time to go, but he refused. He wanted to stay and enjoy the scenery.

Wow. A seagull on a sign. Thrilling.

No. Not THAT scenery… THIS scenery:

MiniAbi, you may have a point there…

But we had a schedule to keep, and a maze to re-navigate to get off Long Island, a feat that would probably take up the rest of the afternoon. I had to drag MiniAbi away from the beach. OK, truth be told, he had to drag ME away… but in any case we left the natural beauty of Fire Island for the coast of New Jersey.

Most of the remainder of the day was spent alternating between the Garden State Parkway and some fun little back roads.

It got late far too early. The fun roads, while fun, were left in order to get some distance in. We were racing the sunset to make it to Barnegat Light on Long Beach Island, the final lighthouse for the day. Hammering paid off, and the beautiful sunset was worth the boring slog.

Barnegat Light – Long Beach Island, NJ

It was getting dark, so I didn’t take the time to stage a ‘disaster’ for MiniAbi. But my little tattoo gift must have helped him appreciate lighthouses a bit, because he picked the most sanitationally questionable hotel for the night, most likely because of the sign.

Granted it was the only hotel on the whole island with a vacancy. The lesson to be learned here is when there is only one room available in a whole area, there’s probably a reason it’s not booked, right?

The bed wasn’t new in 1984, there was not one but TWO broken refrigerators strewn about the floor. The rats were too afraid of all the cockroaches to cause much of a disturbance. It wasn’t really that bad, but it was pretty close. MiniAbi and I flipped a coin to see who got to sleep in the tankbag.

I lost.

I’ve never been so happy for morning to come, and we were on the road early. I wanted to see two final lighthouses before boarding the Cape May ferry and hammering the rest of the way into Washington DC.

We stopped for breakfast, and I found out my little tattoo trick definitely worked. While I was enjoying my coffee, MiniAbi disappeared once again. I found him across the street, and I couldn’t believe what he was doing.

I should have bought another tattoo for MaxiAbi.

He sure could’ve used it in Nova Scotia.

Atlantic City has a lighthouse. I know, I couldn’t believe it either, but it does. Absecon Lighthouse, located blocks from the casinos is actually the tallest in New Jersey, at 171 feet. This lighthouse also has an amazing first order Fresnel lens, which is still completely intact.

Because I didn’t have to walk two miles to get there, I decided to climb all 228 stairs and see the lens. The interior of the lighthouse was beautiful.

The lens was amazing to see. Yes, at this point in the trip I am excited about a lighthouse lens. Thank God Fiona will be joining me next week!

From the top of Absecon, I could see thick, dark clouds massing in the distance. I hurried down the stairs two at a time to try and beat the oncoming storm, but it did no good. The rain clouds that were following Rain Cloud Follows caught up, and it started to rain. Hard.

Rain Cloud Follows under a bridge – it must be raining!

The storm was quick but thorough. Everything was drenched. I thought I was going to drown for a while at the lightning flashed and thunder boomed. A waterlogged MiniAbi even lost his smile, for a while. Then, just as suddenly as it started, the rain stopped. I stopped at a rest area to put some dry socks and underwear on.

My jacket forms a puddle.

The skies remained dark, but there was one final lighthouse on the way to the ferry that I wanted to see. Hopefully the clouds would hold off long enough for me to get my final pictures of this final lighthouse.

Right. Look at that sky. There is no chance the rain would hold off. That’s why the bike is called Rain Cloud Follows.

Cape May Lighthouse – Cape May, NJ

It didn’t. But you can’t get wetter than soaked, which I already was, so I was OK with it.

We made the ferry, and the last hundred miles to Washington slid by, uneventful and lighthouse free. At this point in the epic journey, MiniAbi went home – to make room for Fiona, who will be meeting me in Baltimore on Wednesday.

Thanks for a great trip, MiniAbi! I’m sure we’ll ride again!

When MiniAbi first appeared, I have to admit, I was a little nervous. I’m a firm believer in first impressions and going with my gut feeling, and my first impression and my gut were both telling me there was something just a bit… odd about this little fellow.

But he seemed nice enough, and sometimes first impressions can be wrong. Besides, it was this guy or nobody. We parked our bikes in front of my house for the traditional “start-of-ride’ picture.

Me and Rain Cloud Follows – MiniAbi and his mini-fjr

Immediately after snapping this photo, the first of countless disasters struck. Rosie, my neighbor’s dog ran over, grabbed MiniAbi’s mini-fjr in his mouth and proceeded to chew it to bits.

It was in the face of this incredible setback that I learned of MiniAbi’s resilience. Most people would be devastated by the tragic loss of their cherished motorcycle, but not this little guy. He just kept on smiling as he removed his turban and pulled on his riding helmet.

I suggested we salvage the ride and he ride ‘bitch’ in my tankbag, and he jumped right in.

MiniAbi gives the thumbs up from my tankbag – hard to do with no thumb!

A few miles from my house we made our first stop. MiniAbi wanted his picture next to the ‘Welcome to Connecticut’ sign. That’s cool, we do that kind of thing too, so I stopped. I turned my back for one second to line up the shot, and before I even knew what happened, MiniAbi went ahead and claimed Connecticut for the Kingdom of Trinidad!Not only is putting a sticker on a street sign silly, juvenile and borderline vandalism, worst of all, it’s gimmick infringement! I made MiniAbi promise that he wouldn’t steal any more of my ideas on this trip. It was hard to convince him, as he is a very stubborn little piece of injection molded plastic, but in the end, he saw things my way.

I had a great coastal route planned, with stops at at least ten lighthouses on the way. Hopefully MiniAbi feels differently toward lighthouses than Abi does. Whenever I stop at a lighthouse for a photo op, Abi usually folds his arms across his chest and pouts until we leave. Sometimes he is such a joy, honestly.

Abi ‘enjoying’ the Wood Island Lighthouse on Prince Edward Island

Our first stop in Old Saybrook was a doubleheader, both the Lynde Point Light and the Saybrook Breakwater Lighthouse could be seen, if we could get to them. Both of these historic landmarks are surrounded by the exclusive town of Fenwick, a very exclusive golf resort ringed by exclusive and very expensive houses. I knew this town was full of douchebags the instant I saw this sign, posted on the road to Lynde Point Light.

Honest to God, if I had a dual sport, I would have let my Devil horns pop up and screamed over to chase Muffy and Buffy and Biff and Chad all over their stupid golf course. But I didn’t have a dual sport, so I refrained from doing something that desperately needed to be done.

On the way to Lynde Point, another asinine sign was posted. ‘No Trespassing. Private Road. Get the Fuck Outta Here Unless You are an Exclusive Fenwick Douchebag.’ I knew these rich, exclusive people would exclude a biker from their exclusive lands, in fact as I was getting my camera out to take a picture a black Escalade pulled up and the driver demanded to know what business I had there. His wife, mistress, maid or whatever was dialing her cell phone, most likely to the police. Oh no! Someone on a motorcycle wants to take a picture of a lighthouse! Call the FBI!!

Rather than have a confrontation with this blowhard, I left and circled around to the only public place in Fenwick with a view of the lighthouses.

Lynde Point Lighthouse

Saybrook Breakwater Light

While I snapped these less-than-compelling pictures, MiniAbi slept in the saddle of Rain Cloud Follows.

MiniAbi ‘enjoying’ the far off lighthouses.

A guy in a golf cart pulled up and suggested a better viewpoint, away from the snooty people of Fenwick. I thanked him for the tip and headed over to the place he suggested.

The view of these two lights, uncluttered by golfers and golf carts, was better, if a little further away.

Much better! While I was fooling around with the camera, MiniAbi was fooling around in the ocean.
After shooting some pictures of this unfolding drama, I saved him. This guy has some serious bad luck!

Our second stop of the day was another double header, Southwest Ledge Light and Five Mile Point Lighthouse in New Haven. I paid the ridiculous entrance fee, and set off to add two more lighthouses to my collection.

Five Mile Point Lighthouse

Southwest Ledge Light

Once again, MiniAbi stayed behind, and once again misfortune befell him. I really think that if he’d only learn to appreciate lighthouses a little bit, or at least learn to pretend to appreciate them, these awful things would stop happening to him. This time, while I was away, some kids decided it would be funny to bury MiniAbi in the sand, covering his head with a snail shell.

Poor guy. But he took it all in stride; that manic grin never left his face, no matter what happened to him.

I had one more stop planned for the first day, then it was off to find a hotel. Stratford Point Lighthouse is at the end of a residential street, but without any Private Road signs. I was able to get right up to the structure for some decent pictures.

Stratford Point Lighthouse

MiniAbi actually got into the spirit of things, and posed in front of this place. Even still, something bad happened. But this time it was my fault. While repacking Rain Cloud Follows, I left MiniAbi behind. I was about two miles away when I realized my tankbag contained one less little plastic guy than before! I turned around and got him, but he was pretty pissed. He refused to ride bitch in the tankbag, opting instead to ride on the back of my big red bag.

We’d both had about enough lighthouses for the day; it was time to find accommodations. My hotel requirements are pretty simple. A bed, and a bar within walking distance. A small, Mom and Pop place is more desirable than a chain, but a walking distance watering hole is most important. That’s enough for me. The Fairfield Inn satisfied both requirements.

I walked across the street for a coffee, and when I returned, I swear that MiniAbi was channeling the real Abi. There was a Red Sox game on, and MiniAbi was settled in for the night.

Great. Looks like I’ll be going over to the Tavern on 7 by myself, as usual. I hate baseball. But I love Guinness, and fortunately the Tavern on 7 had plenty on tap. I spent a few hours enjoying myself, but I wasn’t enjoying myself nearly as much as MiniAbi was enjoying the mini bar in the hotel room. After last call, I returned to the room to find this:

Great. Tomorrow could be a long day for MiniAbi……