Frenchy's Rant

Got another financial spam/scam today. Here it is:

Attn: F-Recipient

Following the recovering of the omitted files, we wish to apologize for the delay in your payment and your involvement with the wrong people.

Finally, the funds US$10,500,000.00 (ten Million, Five Hundred Thousand US Dollars) have been approved. The Insurance Code is [RVE-8077/09]. Send this code with your information (full names, current address, Fax and telephone #, Age and occupation) to the payment office to update your file and for instant payment.

Contact Person: Dr. Kennedy Erez

Director, Unity B-kline Finance Plc

EMAIL: contacthome@ubukplc.org

Tel: +234-(0)-7026043310)

Enclose your identification copy while sending your information for updte of your details in the central system.

Congratulations!!!

Yours sincerely,

MRS. FARIDA WAZIRI.

Executive Chairman, Economic and Financial Crimes Commission. (E.F.C.C).

And here, as usual, is my response:

Hello F-Sender!

Congratulations to you for finding me! This is the email I have been waiting for! I’ve been contacted by Mr. James Nunu, The Honorable James Brown, Esther Prakash, Mariam Hennesey (Mrs.) and Mr Adekunle, You are absolutely right, these people have all turned out to be the wrong people, because even though I always reply with all the information they request – All my various Full Names, false Social Security Numbers, other people’s Bank Account Numbers, completely invented PIN numbers, and everything, the one thing I never got in return is a nice, fat check.

Until now, that is. I see that you are the Executive Chairman of the very prestigious Economic and Financial Crimes Commission. Those other scams must have been some kind of crime or something! I mean seriously, why would someone I don’t even know send me millions of dollars, just like that? I always knew there had to be something illegal to it!

This is why I am so excited about your email! Those other bastards got my hopes up for nothing. Totaling up the amounts of all the other scams that I have responded to equals just about ten million dollars, an amount I think is fair for all the fraudulent hope-raising, and pointless email responding.

Get that check in the mail ASAP! Don’t let me down, Farida!

Congratulations!

Snickerdoodle F. Rumplemintz

I started getting interested in photography a few years ago, and that interest followed the same path that most of my interests do, whether it’s motorcycles, drums or even audio. First, I spend waaay too much money getting involved, then I realize that even though I have a lot of great stuff, I really have no idea how to use it. Then, I spend more money on books and DVD’s, trying to absorb every detail I can about my new found passion. Because of the addictive personality that I’m blessed with, when I am interested in something, I want to know everything there is to know about it, and I won’t stop until I do (or a newer, more expensive hobby comes along.)

One thing I didn’t know about photography when I started is that it’s a worse habit than crack. Everything involved with photography costs. A lot. But, just like crack, you justify and convince yourself of anything… I’ll just buy one more flash, then I am done, I swear! Whenever I pull out my camera crack pipe, family and friends run away screaming.

After buying every book there is on photography and lighting and taking literally thousands of terrible pictures, many of those terrible pictures posted on my other blog Weekly Photos, I realized I pretty much suck at my little hobby. It was in this moment of clarity I saw that I had basically two options. One: Have a yard sale. Two: Take a class.

The day after this realization struck, one of the many photography blogs I read religiously announced a one day lighting workshop that, through a miracle of scheduling, I could actually attend. The workshop happened to fall on the day before my birthday, making it a no-brainer to justify the cost. The fact that the instructor, Joe McNally, is one of my favorite photographers sealed the deal. I immediately signed up.

I couldn’t sleep the night before the workshop, alternating between excitement at learning some new things, and nervousness about being the dumb guy with the dumb questions. I left my house an hour early to allow for traffic or any other kind of disaster.

The traffic on the way was heavy, but not too bad. I arrived at the workshop about an hour early, so I decided to get a cup of coffee, figuring the caffeine jolt would definitely help my nerves. The only coffee shop in town was closed, which was probably for the best. I decided to head back to the building and just wait. And then, disaster struck.

A car turned on to the street, and it seemed to be too close to the middle of the road. That was the only thought I had time for, because two seconds later, this car in the middle of the road proved that it really was too close to the middle of the road by crashing into my Jeep.

Great.

I checked for newly protruding bone splinters, visible internal organs, or a giant pool of blood. Finding none, I decided I was OK. The car that hit me had a nice, deep dent in the fender, and a flat tire. The parked car that I slid into after being hit had a broken tail light. The Jeep fared much better, suffering only a very minor little dent. The girl that was driving apologized profusely, saying the sun was in her eyes. I was happy nobody was hurt. Cars are just pieces of metal and plastic, and can easily be fixed or replaced.

I also learned a few things from this little accident. One, I’ll never be a good photographer, because it never occurred to me to grab my camera and document the crash scene. Two: Jeeps can take a hell of a shot. Three: Leaving extra time to get somewhere important is always a good idea.

The police came, statements were made, and I made it to the class, shaken and stirred, battered and bruised, but on time. I don’t think I conveyed the great first impression that I wanted to on Joe, but he was very cool anyway.

Though I was distracted through a lot of the class, I picked up a lot of great information, and took a few decent pictures as well.

It’s been said I have an addictive personality, especially when it comes to two-wheeled transport. This is by far not the worse thing that’s been said about me. It’s also very true.

Finding Azusa Canyon road – which is now my own private racetrack – less than fifteen minutes from my adopted home was one of those life changing moments for me. Something great, right under my completely oblivious nose. I don’t think I’ve ever been called smart. It’d be like suddenly realizing the neighbors you’ve lived next to for years is actually Angelina Jolie, sunbathing topless in her back yard.

Better than that even!

So, having the aforementioned addictive personality, I’ve been up Azusa Canyon road every day for the past three days, a practice I plan to continue every day that I can. I went up there for a third time this morning. Here is my last set of pictures from my newfound paradise:

I now call Azusa Canyon road ‘The Milk Run.’

And, my last little shred of good news… Today, I finally remembered to pick up some milk!

Number twenty five on the WWE’s top twenty five managers of all time is none other than:

Way to go Frenchy! Personally, I think Frenchy should have ranked much closer to the top, but I’m probably biased. From one Frenchy to another, congrats!

The entire top twenty-five manager list can be found here, if you – like my good friend and Faithful Fifteen reader Keith (of The Great Nova Scotia Expedition fame) who brought this to my attention – have nothing else better to do with your time.

I don’t know about everywhere else, but the weather in the Kingdom of Rhode Island right now can only be described one way: shitty.

Rhode Island – January 12, 2009

Thank goodness I’m about as far from the Kingdom as I can be, with Sleeping Beauty in my adopted home of California.

California – January 12, 2009

I’m an early riser, while Sleeping Beauty, well, let’s just say she has that nickname for a reason. So, it’s early morning, I’m wide awake, the sun is shining bright and it’s already 68 degrees, and there are three motorcycles in the garage – Rain Cloud Follows, Abi’s bike Snowball, and Little Red Riding Hood, Fiona’s brand new Ninja 250.

I know what I’m going to do next, it’s pretty obvious. I just need to sneak out without waking Sleeping Beauty. I started gearing up as silently as I could. She stirred, then said, “Uhh… hmmmph… where’re… where are you goin’?” She turned to me, half awake.

Busted. Damn.

“Just going to get some milk, honey. I’ll be back soon, OK?”

“Hrrm… ok.” She rolled back over and fell back asleep.

That was close. I opened the garage, and an involuntary smile appeared. A chorus of angels sang sweetly as the door rose. Then, the three still-functioning synapses in my tiny brain linked up, and a thought formed. ‘Take the Coucours.’

I called Abi, wondering if I could get away with it or not. “Hey buddy, I’m standing in front of your bike, and it looks sad and lonely. It’s been sitting here, basically neglected for a few months.”

He interrupted me, “What are you getting at?”

“Well, I was thinking I would take Snowball out for a little spin. Get the blood moving and all that.”

“Fine. Just remember, the tires are brand new.”

Oh, don’t worry, I remember…

Those three synapses worked together to remember something I’d been told a few months ago. “Azusa Canyon is a great ride, and it’s just five miles from the house.”

Perfect. Let’s go! Evidently, I wasn’t the only one on a milk run. Two sport bikes passed me, obviously with CA Route 39 in mind. I waved as they passed, mentally assigning them the names ‘Tom and Dave’.

As soon as we were away from the busy streets, which only took about five minutes, I noticed my involuntary smile magically reappeared.

‘Tom and Dave’ took full advantage of the traffic free two lane roller coaster, while I took a more leisurely pace; stopping to take in the sights, and relishing the fact that I was riding in January, on a deserted two lane mountain road. It really doesn’t get better than this. (I don’t say that to rub it in to the subjects of the Kingdom of Rhode Island. Honestly.)

Snowball loved being out almost as much as I did.

There was hardly any traffic on the road, and after a while I started to give Snowball a bit of a workout, testing the new tires, the new brakes, and the lean angle limits. The involuntary smile is more of less a permanent fixture. My completely uneducated assessment of the Concours? Kawasaki definitely got this one right. I have to say that while I love Rain Cloud Follows… Naah, I won’t say it.

The only traffic I saw was LA County fire vehicles, about seven of them, heading the other direction. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, so while I wondered what they were all doing up there, I didn’t worry about it. A few hundred curves later, I found out what all the fire trucks were doing.

Fire camp. That sounds like fun. I want to go to fire camp when I grow up. If I ever grow up. While I was snapping this picture, ‘Tom and Dave’ passed me. Again. Those guys seemed to be doing laps. I waved again as they went by.

Very nice of the state of California to build us our very own racetrack out here in the San Gabriel mountains. Thanks, guys!

What a great day! I stopped when the spirit moved me to stop, and enjoyed the scents, the sounds, and the bright sun and warm feeling on my face’s pasty fluorescent-light-bleached pallor. (OK, I’ll admit, I put that in to rub it in just a bit…)

Mount Baldy has some snow on the top. I bet it’s cold up there. See? I feel for Rhode Islanders enjoying the day’s high temperature of twelve. I really do.

.

I also felt for this guy. It seems the motor fell right out of his motorcycle! I asked if he was OK. He nodded and he dismissed me with a friendly wave. While I was stopped making sure this fellow motor-less cyclist was OK, I heard a beautiful sound from down in the valley. None other than ‘Tom and Dave’ appeared for a third time.

This time I set off after them, catching them in mere seconds. They quickly signaled to turn off, and pulled into one of the thousand scenic stops on this excellent road. The conversation started as pretty much any conversation between motorcyclists does. “Hi!” the taller one said. “That’s a nice bike you’re riding there.” We talked about the Concours, the roads, and riding in general. I asked their names. The shorter of the two was named, I shit you not, Dave. The taller guy was Gary. Oh well. One outta two ain’t bad. Gary asked me what brought me to Azusa Canyon. “Oh, I’m supposed to be getting some milk.” I replied, remembering my reason. “It’s been over an hour, I’m probably in trouble by now.” They laughed. As I was leaving, Gary said, “Be careful. I just read in the paper the other day that this road is the most-crashed-on road in all of Southern California.” Great.

Gary and Dave – Two New Friends

That’s why I don’t read newspapers.  The descent from Azusa Canyon back to reality was a bit hairy in spots. Off camber, decreasing radius curves would sneak up out of nowhere. The mighty Concours handled it all without a thought.

Smog Factory in the Distance

A few more enthusiasts were headed up as I headed back. We passed with a wave. I made it all the way back home before Sleeping Beauty got out of bed. My plan would have been perfect except for one thing.

I forgot to get the milk.