I love the way people are publishing their correspondences with Nigerian scammers. This one, by a woman named Savannah, is a classic.
It's so difficult living here in Estado Libre de Nuevo Mexico. We're such a small country. And so much strife. Just last night, a gun battle at the El
Nido saloon took the life of a dear friend (and, I think, the father of my
3rd and 5th children). He was a good man and didn't deserve to die. All
because of a disputed high-stakes darts game. It's madness, sheer madness! I can so totally relate to what you're going through down there. My first
husband was killed when he intervened in a bitch-slapping fight during a
Mary Kay party gone bad. My second husband, Cousin Bubba, died when his 69 Camaro fell down off the jack stands while he was putting muffler tape on
the tail pipe. And it's extremely dangerous to walk down main street because
after Father Gonzales de Smith gets into the sacramental wine at lunch, he
likes to crawl onto the church roof with a BB gun and take potshots at the
Presbyterians while shouting, "Repent, ye infidels!" If my country weren't
so poor, we could afford better police protection or even a navy. But when
the primary occupation consists of nighttime raids into the U.S. to shoplift
boxes of Cheez-Its from 7-11s along the border, it's difficult to establish
a tax base to fund such luxuries.
