Friday, November 30, 2007

Benson Hunter Modalities

I woke up naked

my ass hurt and it leaks now

don't tell anyone

The above haiku is in honor of Smeagol breaking his record previously held in 2002 for "most times sent to jail in a year", although it is not an official count, he has been to jail 14 times this year for random things in different jurisdicitons, most of them overnight stays and I am sure that broke a record or something since he usually only goes to jail once a month.

Benson Hunter Time!

So the last time we left Benson Hunter he sent this short email to remind me to pay him the scam money he wanted:

Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2007 10:14:26 +0000


Subject: To Mr. Gerbiler Bob

Attn:Mr.Bukkake Bob

How was your weekend with your family?This is to kindly inform you that the courier company are still awaiting the confirmation of the payment today are advised to send down the scan copy of the payment information via email attachment so that our accounting department can have proper record of the money paid by you the beneficiary of the parcel to be delivered to you.

As soon we received the payment today the courier company will commence with the delivering of your parcel without any further delay.

We are looking forwared to hear from you very soon.

Bukkake Bob

My response, I really did try to find out how many numbers are in a Western union transfer number, and could not so I just guessed:

RE: To Mr. Gerbiler Bob‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Mon 11/26/07 10:12 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

Dear Bukkake Bob,

I do not have a family, except for my gerbil Mr Sphincter, and he is a little smelly after his latest adventure, so I am giving him a little gerbil bath! Hot Karl came by, and after some wrestling around on the garage floor I finally tickled the answer out of his prostate, here are the details:

Mr. Thompson Cox

12 West Park Lane, Leicester This is a city about 100 miles North of London, I hope he drove there! Tee hee!

Mtc. number: 86518984

Secret question: Who wears short shorts?

Secret question answer: Bukkake Bob wears short shorts

amount sent: 1450.00

I did not have the other 50 dollars, is it possible to take the other out of my winnings? Please let me know. I want my package, why can you not just use Western Union to pay my money to me like I did for the document processing? Please let me know. Why am I paying this when you sent me an earlier email asking for 500 pounds as tax? I am a little worried, and Hot Karl says I should start to wonder if you are not a scammer. You aren't are you Bukkake Bob? If I still need to pay another 500 pounds as tax I will but assure me that you are not a scammer. Send me a picture with yourself holding up a sign with your name on it. You have given me some very shaky answers to some of my questions, Bukkake Bob, this is the least you can do.

Til I see your face,

Gerbiler Bob

It turns out I was wrong but he was so sure that I sent along the money his greed clouds over any thought that I might be onto him... observe:

Dear Bukkake Bob We need a Scan copy of the western union payment slip via email attachment‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Tue 11/27/07 6:50 AM
To: Philip McKraken (
Dear Bukkake Bob,

Thanks for your prompt response to our email the courier compay will want you to resend the mtcn numbers the mtcn numbers you sent to us is incorrent.

You are to send the 10 digit of the western union mtcn numbers immediately so that we can have a proper records of it even scan a copy of the western union payment slip for verification.

Bukkake Bob

Twice this asshat cals ME Bukkake Bob, but I did not catch it until now. I don't answer right away, so...

Attn:Gerbiler Bob Fill in The form‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Tue 11/27/07 8:03 AM
To: Philip McKraken (
Attn:Gerbiler Bob

Your email was received in our accounting/shipping department of onthedot delivering company,this is to confirm that we are in receipt of your email and it content.

You should be very cleared by now that your parcel have been arraged and ready to be delivered to you,our delivering officials will want you to be at home for them to deliver it to you because we dont release this kind of parcel to some one else due to the content of the parcel and due to security reason we want you to be at home for our delivering officer to release the parcel to you right hand and you will need to sign some document as envident that you received your parcel personaly this will help the courie service.

The courier company will want you to realy comfirm the payment informations so that we can verify it and record it.

Receiver Names:
Senders Full Name:
Senders Contact Address:
MTCN Numbers:(10 Digit Numbers)
Amount Sent:
Qustion:() Anwers()
A scan Copy of Payment Slip via email attachment.

We are awaiting to comfirm the payment so that we can commence with the delivering of your parcel to you immediately.

Mr.Bukkake Bob

Whatever, douche...

RE: Dear Bukkake Bob We need a Scan copy of the western union payment slip via email attachment‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Tue 11/27/07 11:14 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

Bukkake Bob,

I went and told Hot Karl that you and I are very angry with him for giving me the wrong number (that was his social security number). He told me he did not care and then tickled my Chicken McNuggets with a feather. I countered with a candy corn to the sphincter and he went down. I stood over him and did the macarena, the electric slide and the running man until he submitted himself to me, and while I was poking that candy corn further down inside his ass, I found the number.

I saw another email from you, so I will put the information in there. Have you thought about my proposal? Hot Karl and I would really like a picture of you if you could spare one, maybe one with you holding up a sign with your name on it... in fact, I will not send along the transfer numbers until I get a picture of you, Benson Hunter, holding up a sign with your code name written on it. I have sent the money, I am sure if you do not give Mr. Thompson Cox this information that the money will be sent back, send me a picture of yourself holding a sign saying "I am Bukkake Bob", and I will send along the information.

The balls are in your hands, Bukkake Bob

Gerbiler Bob

Does anyone here think I went a little too far with this one? Monday, the shocking conclusion. I am thinking about sending Bukkake Bob a link to this site as well to ebolamonkeyman, which I plan to post this to as well...I also need character names and parts to play. I would like it if one of you would step up and take over my semorebutts email so we can have another person sending emails, maybe be Philip_mckraken's lawyer or something, my altar boy. Tell me your thoughts!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Foolish Man.... Part I

A road less travelled,
Shutters sway in the warm sun
My dad smokes crack rocks

Picture this...

So the year was 1996. It was right before Christmas, Dad had been fired, and had just performed the Toboggan Boy maneuver down the front steps. There was no food in the house, and the tree had 0 gifts under it, all in all a normal Christmas season. Dad and Janet were smoking crack up in their room, Billy Bill was also there, I guess sitting on the edge of the bed watching them smoke up all his product, and Dad had just given him all of his paycheck but about 40 dollars that he planned on living off of for the next 2 weeks or until he could find another job.

We were all downstairs, trying to find a channel that worked, huddled around the fireplace since the gas was off, just 6 young souls trying to survive. We had feasted on Doritos and a hamburger-cheese mixture, Janet said that's all she ever made for her kids and they loved it, and from the tiny ass portion I had gotten I believed it. Billy Bill, sated with all of Dad's paycheck, came downstairs and went out the front door, Janet in tow for some reason. She informed her kids that it was too cold and that since my dad had no money they were going to sleep at her parents house until the gas got cut back on. Yet again, a usual day.

Dad moseys on downstairs, cracked out of his fucking mind, and I can tell by his eyes wide open vacant stare and his hair that looked like he had tried to get it to stand straight up on purpose that he is in a rare retard mode, though not mystical in nature, just as annoying. I decide to go up to my room to jerk off to Boy George posters or something, and JJ is left to the mercy of my dad's crack induced philosophical meanderings.

He sat there for a few minutes, simply staring at my little brother, a frown on his face and his eyes were red. Was it from sadness? Or had all the smoke he had generated caused a chemical reaction to his eyes? I will leave that to the philosophers.

He sat in the only armchair in the room, and called over to my brother:

"Come here, son. I need to tell you something.'- picture the family time music from Full House playing in the background, you know, the acoustic guitar wimpy ass solo that always plays -', something you might not know. Yerdaddy is a foolish, foolish man, son. I've done some things I'm not proud of, and made some bad decisions. I know it hurts you and your brother, and I know you both look up to me and love me and want to see us do better, well, I'm trying son. I may do some drugs sometimes' - at this point I would assume JJ snickered or snorted -', but I always make sure there is something to eat in the house before I do. I never smoked cigarettes, and I never will, I just know with the love and support from the family I can beat this thing and we can all live happy, with the utilities on and everyone getting together! Wouldn't that be nice? I just need you and your brother to give me a hug and tell me you love me, and how what I am doing is hurting you guys, and I will try to stop it..."

Later on that day Dad got kidnapped again, almost missing Christmas. Smeagol was still wearing his thong.

Scam time tomorrow... I finally got a picture of Bukkake Bob!

The videos

Since the entries for the video contest were so sporadic, I have decided I will take both contestants out... just let me know where you want to go, and if I need to pick you up. I don't care who you are, if you order the steak or lobster you are putting out. I am looking at Monday or Tuesday of next week, but whenever you are free to it's good with me.

Smeagol, we love thee (finale)

A tight leather skirt
How could that be disgusting?
When it leaks mayo

The Date

Well the day finally comes, and I am fresh and dressed like a million bucks. I knock on the door to Smeagol's Cavern of Failure, and he walks out, the smell of unwashed ass barely covered by cheap cologne, his signature Christmas sweater on over his super sexy stone washed jeans, and I briefly wonder if he knows it's August, and think better of it, since the more Smeagol is covered, the better life is.

I notice Mystery is in the bathroon, walking on clothes in the tub, which is how they washed clothes, by putting them in the tub, filling it with water and pouring either dish soap or detergent on them and walking all over them until the water is appropriately gray, then rinsing them off anf hanging them over the tub until they are nice and crusty. Great success!

I ask if she is going to get ready any time soon, and Smeagol informs me he is going to pick up some lucky lady at the theatre, and for a fleeting moment I am disgusted with him, how could you do that to your own wife? Then I realize how ugly Mystery is and how her breath and cooch stench would have messed up the moviegoing experience and was instantly greateful to the Smeags.

We go to pick Kim up, and as soon as Smeagol sees her, he starts in:

"MMMmmmmmm guuuuuurrrrllll, I'd lick your tuna taco until all the salsa was gone!"
That's the only thing he said that I actually remember, but he was saying stuff like that throughout the night, regaling her with information like he didn't mind eating period, he liked getting a face full of fart, he just loved munching away on twat. I probably could have stopped him, but at this point other than throwing herself out of the car she had no escape so why bother?

We get to Ward Parkway, and head in to see the flick, which was Cruel Intentions. Great movie if it was just me and Kim, not so great with Smeagol raptoring up the popcorn I gave him, his legs up on the chair like he had no sense, at least he had pants on and was not thonging it up. He also lied about his date that was going to meet him there, saying nothing about it the rest of the way to the theater, and sat on the other side of Kim, presumably to hit on her while I wasn't looking. She must have really liked me because she beared with him for the entire date, not once pushing him away in disgust or informing him he looked like a raptor with a bad perm.

We get through the movie, and are going to go eat at Perkins. We get into the car, and Smeagol, exhausted from sitting up in the theater that whole time, curls up in the back seat, telling us to try to keep it down and to wake him up whan it's time for him to eat, which he informs me I will be paying for because he forgot his wallet. Then he starts snoring in the back seat, little moans of either pleasure or pain emenating from the dense fog he ass was creating in the tiny compartment of the car, causing us to turn the ac off and roll down the windows even though it was 90 fucking degrees outside.

We get to Perkins, and I spend about 15 seconds trying to shake Smeagol awake without gagging, and we go in. Of course Smeagol sit's by Kim, forcing me to sit across from her, which is awesome. His hair looks absolutely horrible, even for him. Think Don King only with a raptor face, or Falsa Doom from Conan when he started turning into a snake, but not as handsome and with a Don King hairdo on his head. His breath is so bad my eyes are starting to water, and he is doind that annoyed grunt thing he does because I dared wake him up from his 45 minute slumber... poor baby! Of course since it is on Stevester's tab he orders a steak and shrimp plate, changing my menu order to a water and bread, and spends almost a full minute telling the waitress exactly how he wants his steak cooked... I give Kim a look that tells her unlike Smeagol if she orders that she is putting out in the car and at home, so she orders like a salad or something.

So we sit there, disgusted, as Smeagol grunts and slurps his food down, completely oblivious to the rest of society sitting in close proximity, telling us how he has not eaten for a few days, how many asses he has to wipe and various stories about festering bed sores and different colored diarrheas in people's diapers, not stopping until I get Kim home, and then sleeping in my car on the way back to our house. I fucking leave him asleep in the car, hoping someone will try to steal the car but realizing with a raptor in the front seat no one will.

Tomorrow: Either the first "Foolish Man" story, or a scam, not sure which.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Smeagol, we love thee (pt. I)

Who wears the short shorts?

Bukkake Bob wears short shorts

I love those scammers

And lo came the day that the Stevester foolishly invited Smeagol along on a double date. One of my friends had told me this girl had a huge crush on me and wanted to go out to the movies or something, maybe it would turn into more, and I was feeling gracious so I asked Smeagol if he would like to double date. Let me set the stage here: I was in the chair, playing Guardian Heroes on the Sega Saturn (That friggin game rocked), my trusty bag of flaming hot Cheetos and Diet Pepsi that I purchased from the dirty ass corner store, the one with all the dirty ass negros hanging out in front with varying malt liquors, swaying drunkenly in the early morning breezes, the sun gently warming their unwashed faces, still half hung over from the festivities that had started the night before. I like how the Pepsi was almost always 2 days before the expiration date, yet the hot Cheetos were always fresh.

Anyway, I was playing the game, when the phone rings. Smeagol is over on the couch, wearing only his thong, he also had really bad gas because all we had to eat in the house besides whatever I brought home from Burger King was Kim Chi, which is fermented cabbage, and Smeagol had made a home in that and in some Taco Bell that he had purchased almost 2 weeks prior to that and insanely enough had hidden in his room from me, like I was going to steal it. Later on Smeagol and Mystery would hide a lot of food from me, or when they thought I was going to purchase dinner.

So the phone rings, and it is this gorl, I think her name was Kim. I didn't know, Smeagol picks up and instantly starts hitting on her, with Mystery sitting right next to him staring off into space, trying to perfect her headlock on the kitten she always carried.

"Oooh girl I would lick your tuna roll sloppy sideways until you creamed all over my faishshsh (I think he meant face but the teeth...) Smeagol was saying, gently rubbing his gnarly sack that was splayed out onto the couch that in all the time I lived there I never sat on unless I absolutely had to... he was getting nastier and nastier and Mystery never washed either so you could smell the spoiled milk scent of her unwashed anus all over the couch too.

After about 3 minutes of Smeagol telling this unknown caller all the things he could do with his claw and tongue, he reluctantly handed the phone to me. WTF?! I ask who it is and it's Kim, the girl I am speaking to for the first friggin time ever outside of those little high school notes she passed me through my friend. "Who was that, they are nasty!" She exclaimed. I wanted to tell her she did not know the half of it, but Smeagol was right behind me, the smell of BO, mad mudbutt, his sweaty balls and failure clouding my nostrils, his thong dangling in a most obscene way, just barely covering his sack, and it's hilarious, while I saw his balls quite often, I never saw the man pole, in all the time he let the nads flop... I know it sounds incredible, but I never (thank God) had to try to therapy out the sight of his mandingo.

I tell her I have Saturday off, and ask if she wants to go see a movie then. She agrees, we set a time and I hang up. Smeagol is standing there, clawing his own ass, probably looking for mites, he was always scratching his ass, I saw him do it at Burger King then make some hamburgers, luckily ones he later stole because they had been on the heat chute for too long. In all honesty, though I am glad I am with who I am with (I liked her more but she was taken at the time of this story) I could have seen myself with Kim, if not for that first date. I will get down to what happened tomorrow, but I wanted to get this started and post an update to the Benson Hunter Saga, which I am sure we all have come to know and love. Scammer's emails in black, mine in red, thoughts in blue. Let's get to it!

When we last left Benson Hunter (known from now on as Bukkake Bob), he had "a littel delay due to delinverng of parcel", whatever that means, here is my response to him:

RE: , Gerbiler Bob,‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Mon 11/12/07 10:27 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

OK, that sounds good, I will go to Western Union on Thursday and send a money order for... how much was it again? It's kind of funny, I must go in disguise since I told my neighbor, Kraven Moorehead, that I am rich now he has been waiting for me to leave my trailer so he can rub Chicken McNuggets all over me, most exhilirating and yet the pleasures to be derived from this are somehow wrong. Thank you for using my code name, by the way. My boss suspects nothing, as I tell him it is a wrong address and therefore do not have to share the money (from here on known as "Funyons") with him like I had to share my sphincter pops.

I am sad that I cannot come to your orfice to receive my funyons, my Chicken McNuggets are getting blue from the waiting to fill the holes of some London ladies. How hard is it to send out winnings all the time and yet never take any yourself, Bukkake Bob? (If you remember, that is the code name we decided on for you). Do you ever get tempted to pocket the money? Let me know.

Pimps up, Hoes Dizzown

Philip McKraken, aka Gerbiler Bob

At this point, I am pretty sure I can say whatever I like, this guy is a moron, I can tell he is reading it but he never seems to catch on. His response:

Re: Gerbiler Bob‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Fri 11/23/07 12:15 PM
To: Philip McKraken (
Attn:Gerbiler Bob,

Thanks for your kindly responce,please you have to be very cleared that you are delaying the deliveeing of your parcel.

As soo you made the payment you are to forwared the courier the following payment information via email attachment.

1,A scan copy of the western union payment slip
2,Western Union Mtcn Numbers:
3,Sender Full Name:
4,Amount Sent:

As soon we received the comfirmation of the payment your winnings will be delivered to you without any further delay.

We are looking forwared to received the payment from you today.

Bukkake Bob

OK so I got him to use the code name. You would think any moron with an internet connection would look up the word Bukkake, apparently the internet cafe charges by the correctly spelled word or something... anyway:

RE: Gerbiler Bob‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Fri 11/23/07 7:39 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

Bukkake Bob.

Perhaps you did not read my earlier email, when I said I would not be able to get the information you requested until Monday, as Hot Karl is out visiting his family. I made the payment days ago, I forgot to get the control number. I will get the information from him on Monday when he gets back from the swamps where his family lives, and not a silly second sooner!

Look, Bukkake Bob, I like you. A lot. Before he left for the swamps, Hot Karl made a few requests of me: one, to shave my sack because his chin was getting rugburn, and two to get a picture of our new friend Bukkake Bob. I think it is only fair since we are paying all of this money for a lottery we did not enter that the least you can do is to send along a little picture of yourself. How about it, Bukkake? Maybe get a picture with your name on it, it would be worth another Western Union transfer of a 10 spot or something to you personally. If you get a picture taken holding a sign saying "I am Bukkake Bob" I will send you 15 dollars. Let me know if this is acceptable. I will get the transfer numbers for the 1500 dollars to you Monday, American time.

Gerbiler Bob

I think since this has gone on for a month that a picture for a 10 spot is totally reasonable, though I do not intend to ever pay it. I will post his response, and then in tomorrow's I will update the Arita Jack story and a few other choice tidbits I have gotten from scammers:

To Mr. Gerbiler Bob‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Mon 11/26/07 5:14 AM
To: Philip McKraken (
Attn: Mr.Bukkake Bob

How was your weekend with your family?This is to kindly inform you that the courier company are still awaiting the confirmation of the payment today are advised to send down the scan copy of the payment information via email attachment so that our accounting department can have proper record of the money paid by you the beneficiary of the parcel to be delivered to you.

As soon we received the payment today the courier company will commence with the delivering of your parcel without any further delay.

We are looking forwared to hear from you very soon.

Bukkake Bob

I think I love Bukkake Bob, he is so stupid, but I do not want to scare him away... tell me have any of you checked out ? Do you think this is a good enough tale to post on there? I want to share this with the world, ya'll...

More tomorrow

Monday, November 26, 2007


Why kid myself? This is the new face of Iceman...

I'm Callin' the fuckin' cops!

A door I've stepped through
In my subconscious mind's eye
I fear I'm watching

Weird ass dream

Alright I think this is significant, I will get to the heading of the post in a second. I have been having a recurring dream for almost 10 years now, not every night of course but probably once or twice a month, but I have had the same one or a version of it every night for the last 3 days, so I am wondering if there is a couch psychic who can tell me what this means:

In my dream I am in a familiar house. I am always alone, and incredibly afraid. I go to the same closet, in every house (the house is never the same it is always a familiar house but the layout changes), one that is always on the second floor and on the second room to the right, and the door is always the same. I open the door and see what I always perceive as myself hanging from the ceiling by a rope. I usually have a black bag over my head but not always. I then start running down the stairs, my own body in close pursuit, and I wake up right as I catch myself.

Last night, I had a dream where I knew that was going to happen, and in my dream I was trying to put up mental blocks to stop myself from getting in there. It's hard to explain, but in my dream I was imagining what was on the other side of each door before I went through it, and then opening the door. I was in an office, not a house, and I went through the first door after calming myself and telling myself that it was not my house, and when I went through, it was not. It was like a huge warehouse, like I was somehow behind my dream, with thousands of different doors on many levels. I went up to a door, and opened it after calming myself and was in some really crappy apartment, loke it had been bombed out. There were a bunch of little kids under the floorboards crawling around, and once outside I realized the apartment was in a warehouse and on top of a huge mountain of glass bottles. there was some guy sitting in a car off to the side, smoking and checking his watch like he was waiting for something. I started throwing baseballs through some of the windows, and some guy in a suit came up from the apartment and told me how well I threw. From here the dream sped up, and I walked backwards through each door I had come through, imagining what was behind it when I walked through it. I went back to the warehouse, back to the empty office building, and back into the office, all walking backwards. I turned around and then jumped on the desk and hung myself.

Anyway, on to some happy times!

So when we lived in North Kansas City, I was not what you would call a "devil with the ladies". I was more "fat", and "disgusting", but I digress. I had a friend that was a girl named Keela, and I am not sure how we became friends but I do know I had the biggest crush on her after she beat the living shit out of me, so I hung out at her house a lot. She had this neighbor, "Roberto", who was a little younger than us and a little....weird. He was in complete and total love with Keela, and strangely enough, with me as well. Whenever I was at her house playing SNES or just trying to outfart her, he would be over there saying vastly more and more inappropriate stuff, like "Dang Steve you got a big dick! Can I touch it?" (no joke, this was verbatim), and once, when we were just sitting on the front stoop, "I got fucked up the ass by a guy once." No one had been talking for like 5 minutes up to that point.

So time passed, Dad got more and more into the crack cocaine, my retarded neighbor tried to molest me once (she cornered me and tried to kiss me, it was really tough to push her away without touching her smelly body), we beat Roberto with foam bats once a week, and then it happened.

I was playing Madden 95 against Long John, and I was winning. We were pretty happy, since the power was supposed to get shut off that day but they had apparently forgotten to, and Dad and Janet were smoking up his check in the other room to celebrate. All of a sudden JJ and Fatso run in and tell us Roberto had beat them up. I was unbelieving, since we had beaten him up so many times with those foam bats, wiffle bats, teddy bears and other assorted items it seemed impossible that he could ever defeat anyone (except Smeagol, but that does not count as human) in physical or mental combat. We set out to find him, me following Long John, and found him standing in the middle of the street like a moron.

Before I go on, my intent was to scare him and then laugh as he wallowed like a loser. Long John had other ideas. We stood there, I was behind Long John, and I let him do the talking. He seemed pretty angry, and I assumed he was acting but as the talking turned to yelling my alarmometer, which went off every time Dad bought crack rocks on credit, started going crazy.

"Why you messin' with my little brothers, man?" Long John was yelling, and getting into what I realized was a fighting stance. Roberto was still blissfully unaware, and was just telling him to drop the tough guy act, when Long John punched him right in the top of the head. Roberto fell back, grabbing his head, and started babbling "The cops, I'm callin' the fuckin' cops" over and over again like a mantra, and ran home.

Later JJ and Fatso informed us they had lied, they just wanted to see him get beat up. I went over to apologize, and his dad informed me he was in his room.

You know on Law & Order: SVU, when they break into the boarded up apartment the child molester has been using as his hideout, and it's all dark and you are instantly afraid they will turn on the blacklight and see all the semen all over the place? This was like that, but I didn't need a blacklight to see most of the jizz. I will explain:

He had an olive green army blanket on his bed, and there were 4 or 5 nice sized protein stains on there, along with jizz tracks all over the rest of his blanket, like he had started spraying and simply could not stop. He had an Ultimate Warrior wrestling poster on one wall, and (I kid you not) a New Kids on the Block poster next to a Cure poster on the other wall. He asked me to sit on the bed to talk to him, and I declined, pointing out the jizz. "Everyone has some on their beds, it's not that big of a deal." I hurriedly apologized then broke out of there. I would not feel that disgusted until I saw Mystery naked a few years into the future.

Friday, November 23, 2007


My new mascot... revel in his awesomeness, it's funny, he looks kind of like Iceman. You will see much more of him in the future:

Das ist Eine Scam Time

Wesley Willis, man!

He Rocks Saddam Hussein's Ass!

His mom smokes crack rocks

Sorry, Dudes (and dudettes), Smeagol did not show up yesterday, but the reason is he still owes me money, as well as my mom and everyone else in the family. I should have known since he owes me money he would simply disappear until he assumed I forgot about it... oh well, we shared some great stories about him anyway. My aunt regaled us all with the tale of my uncle shitting her couch, and went even further than I knew by stating he had actually used one of her t-shirts to wipe his ass, and left it on the floor, great times.

My mom said Smeagol has been getting on a high horse at work recently, threatening some of the weaker residents and generally "showing his ass", which I did not ask her to elaborate on. Smeagol is not a smart man. He once took his pet doberman to the nursing home and let her run free, where she bit several residents before being curtailed by an employee with a brain. Smeagol was summarily fired after that, though he was rehired about a month later because "No one works the booty ass overtime like me, niggie!"

I also informed everyone in the family to refer to him as Smeagol from now on, which is awesome.

Anyway, I figured I would toss a scam in, since it is the heading of today's post, just wanted to update everyone. So last time we spoke with Benson Hunter, he had this grand looking Word 97 table, and after reading my response, sent the exact same table again to me, but with the weight of the package and stuff like that in it. I ignored him for a few days, and get this final email before I guess he was gonna cut his losses and move on:

, Gerbiler Bob,‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Wed 11/07/07 5:44 PM
To: Philip McKraken (
Dear Customer,

Your email has been recieved today,please you are to pay the sum of 500 pounds as tax

I felt a little sad reading this, because it is plain to see he put absolutely no effort into this. It's like he just phoned this scam message in. Oh well, I won't let his lack of commitment to our relationship ruin my fun:

RE: , Gerbiler Bob,‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Wed 11/07/07 11:47 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

Tax? I thought it was a delivery fee for document processing! What are you trying to pull here! I want to fly out to London and pick my check up. You said to bring 1500 pounds for that purpose. I ask when you want me to get there and which airport to fly into and you tell me to send you 500 dollars for tax? In America, we take the taxes out of the winnings; I have given you this same option.

Tell me what is going on or I shall fly out there and engage in a spirited bout of fisticuffs with you! That's my check you smelly foreigner! Reply back so that I will know your mind. I have 1500 pounds, and I want my winnings, but I will not give it to you until you give me some clarification as to what this is going for! You think that because I have Hot Karl on my side that I have nothing to worry about,

well you're wrong! I don't know about there but here Cleveland Steamers cost money!. Fine, fine, I accept your apology... who do I make this money order out to? Is Western Union alright? Let me know.

Philip McKraken

I forgot to use my code name. Naughty naughty! He does not write back, and I really do not expect him to, so I come clean:

RE: , Gerbiler Bob,‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Sun 11/11/07 12:11 AM
To: Benson Hunter (

Dear bottom feeding scum sucking scammer:

You are retarded. I am only sad I did not waste more of your time. I like how you are probably so busy scamming so many people you do not have the time to personalize each scam and need to send these one line explosions of literal diarrhea out with the hopes we are as stupid as you are. I hope you liked that picture I sent you, if you even looked at it.

There is a place on the underside of my balls, the part right by the taint that I rub all over your mother's face, that I will allow you to sign if you can ever make it to the United States. In conclusion, get AIDS and die while being raped by your little mugu buddies, shitface.


Philip McKraken, AKA Yerdaddy

Mugu is a horrible insult in Africa, you will hear it a lot. Apparently, they also do not like being called small or little, as they all have very intricate delusions of grandeur. You will see more of this as time goes on, so keep it in your mind, along with African scammers being the only ones who use the term "modalities".

Amazingly, this retard writes back!

RE: , Gerbiler Bob,‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Mon 11/12/07 9:55 PM
To: Philip McKraken (
Deqr Customer,

We are very sorry for the littel delay,we where making some other delivering of parcel and we have a enought cleint to atten to this very week that is the more reason we did not get back to you,please you have to bear with us.

Your email has been acknoweleged in our delivering department and it was well noted today,you should understand that you should paying for the cost of delivering so that we can deliver you the parcel we dont accept customer to come over in our office due to some security reason of the united kingdom and due to money laudering that is going on in united kingdom which make in impossible for us to invict you to come to our office.

You are to pay the cost of delivering charges via western union to our delivering officer name started below are sent us the payment slip for verification.

Name:Mr.Thompson Cox
Contact address:12 West lane park london

Do try and make the payment as soon you received this email so that we can deliver the parcel to you on time and we have your parcel to be amoung the first group of parcel we are delivering to your location this very week.

We are looking forwared to hear from you soon.


Absolutely.... amazing.

More Monday.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The stage is set...

Orange petticoat

My Guitar Hero band name

Flippin' sweet ass, right?

Thanksgiving Showdown

So this Thanksgiving it turning out to be a whopper of epic proportions. In the first corner, we have My parents, not much going on there, JJ and his troupe, and Smeagol, who though he stole a bunch of food, told my mom over the phone he was going to come up this week if I would go pick him up. Awesome...

In the next corner, my sister and her family, which is funny because the entire reason I was the only representative from my family allowed at her wedding is because she was afraid Smeagol would find out and start a fistfight with her like he did at her last wedding... no I did not tell her Smeagol was going to be there.

Next my aunt and my cousin are going to be there, my aunt is cool but my cousin is the one who caught the Metro over to my house to beat the crap out of Mystery, and no I did not tell her but Mystery will be there also, and Smeagol hits on her all the time, and no I did not tell her Smeagol was going to be there.

That's just my family, there are quite a few rumblings going on on her side as well...

So here is what I think will happen: My parents will show up first, because my dad wants to make sure he gets to Civilization 4 before anyone else can come up and hog the computer. Smeagol will show up, and him and my dad will have it out, but it will be funny because they both know they cannot fight in my house or I will step in, and both fear me. Smeagol will retire to the back room we set up a tv in with his favorite game on it for just this purpose, and probably strip down to his thong like he did the last time we gave him a room to himself, falling asleep in the middle of the floor and stinking the entire room up.

My aunt will show up, and Smeagol will start telling our FIRST cousin how he would like to "drink the cream from your stinky sex hole" as JJ puts it, I think I told you all about how he says this "I'd lick you slip slop Sally sassafras suckin Sunday" whatever, but because he only has 2 teeth we have to guess at what he's really saying. My cousin will see Mystery, and either attempt a bout of fisticuffs as soon as I leave the room or promise her as soon as she walks outside she's got a whoopin comin, which will cause Mystery to do that little snort huff she does that we all know and hate. My youngest son will step on Smeagol's foot again, causing him to cry out in agony like he always does, and giggle.

My sister will show up and there WILL be a fistfight, because my sister does not fear me whatsoever and will hate me for awhile for not telling her Smeagol will be there.

It's funny that pretty much the whole family is in solidarity on only one thing, and that thing is hating Smeagol. We fight, curse, ignore and refuse to help one another, but when it comes to banding together against that thong wearing raptor with a perm, we throw away our differences and come together.

Anyway, real quick I had to tell you about my aunt throwing my uncle out of her house. I may have told you before, but it's funny so I will do it again. You may remember my mom kicked my uncle out because he was shitting in Walmart bags and hangign them from a tree in the back yard. He aimed to build on this success by moving in with my aunt and sleeping on the couch, and was caught shitting in various places at her house, very few places being the toilet.

She finally decided to confront him, and stood over him while he was laying on the couch, a mean look in his eye. She told him he would have to leave because he was not trying to do anything with his life. I like to imagine he growled first, but my aunt said he just started shitting all over her couch, rolling around in it in anger before getting up and running out of the house. I never found out whether he had clothes on when he did that, and though it sounds incredible you have to remember when my mom was in mystical retard mode she once ran out of her house butt naked screaming at the top of her lungs for no reason once, so it is not only entirely possible, but frankly probable.

I have more scams, and I will have to finish one of these up so I can start a new thread, but I figured I would update on Arita Jack today, when we left her she was going to kill herself because she was poor, sleeping in a gutter outside her school:

RE: OMG how can I help!‏
Sent: Sun 11/04/07 6:39 AM
To: Semore Butts (

Thank you for your email.Please i will do all you said.Help me.

Short, sweet, to the point. I got a half mast thinking about her offering herself to Mr. Butts, but it quickly dissipated when I realized it has to be a dude in some internet cafe in Lagos...

Semore Butts wrote:

If you could find enough monies to send me a picture, I will send you the money. To prove it is a real and not fake picture, I would like you to hold a sign saying "I want you to Phil McKraken", that way I will know you are sincere.
Shit I realized too late I am supposed to be Semore Butts!

A cardboard sign should be free to make, and a picture is only a dollar or two, please send this picture to me so I will know your lovely face and can send this money with a clear conscience. If you can get a picture taken naked that would be even better but I will take any picture of you holding the sign I can get, oh Arita how you would love coming to America, drinking my world famous Bukkake Brew, tossing a salad or two every day, riding down the freeway asses to the wind slappin monkey skins with your gumflaps, or filming me and Hot Karl in our newest movie.

Anyway, I anxiously await your picture. Do you want me to come pick you up? I would love to get this relationship started right, and what better way than to give you a bit of Bukkake Brew right there at the airport to start our courtship? That's how I started my courtship of my first wife, Oxsana, who met with an unfortunate plowing accident. Never run a plow nude during Bison mating season, that's a rule!

Phil McKraken

But apparently she did not read the emails, because...

RE: OMG how can I help!‏
Sent: Mon 11/05/07 10:40 AM
To: Semore Butts (

All i need now is urgent help from you.Please send any thing to
Pastor John.O.Nwajagu
Addis Bible Center

God bless you. Arita

More scams and stuff tomorrow...

Monday, November 19, 2007


Come on steveshaikus
work your therapeutic charm
Brown bear's not happy

Assorted shit.

So I got my second stripe on my black belt Saturday, I am now a Nidan, which is I guess pretty cool. The test was different, Instead of the traditional go through all of the katas one by one and do the bunkais (practical applications) for each, I think I personally did 3 katas, no bunkais, and then Hanshi (our grand master) had each of us turn our back, and gave the other two testing students instructions on a variety of ways to attack me, to see what I would do in an unscripted situation. I really liked that part, because I was able to completely clear my head, stop thinking, and just let my hands and feet do the talking. It is one of the first times I felt like karate would help out in a real situation, though I still felt kind of cheated because I practice all of my katas, had I known I would only do like 3 I would have not bothered practicing.

My sister's wedding was yesterday, and it was a medieval affair, man there were a lot of unleashed sweater puppies, some on the ladies too. I found out when I go there I was supposed to walk her down the aisle, which is great because I had not rehearsed it yet. After the service, she asks me how it could be that the two of us made it out alive. I just smiled and looked away, but then it got me thinking... how is it that we were all raised in the same house, yet turned out so different? How did Smeagol become a complete and total failure, taking joy in ekeing out a life on the fringes of civilization, shunning a world so cruel? How did JJ turn to gangbanging, in all senses of the word, and dealing drugs across the hallway to my dad?

Anyway, I figured since I have been so busy I would roll out some scams, but I think those will keep until tomorrow, like the haiku says I am not in the best of moods this morning. Smeagol left in the dead of the night, after stopping my parents toilet up one last time and taking about a weeks' worth of groceries with him. What an asswipe. I kinda thought he might do that, since he was apparently talking a lot of smack in the days leading up to the showdown, but no one guessed he would raptor all their food on his way back to his cave.

More tomorrow.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Some Smeags, some scam

Flock of Seagulls Rawk!
"I ran, ran so far away!"
It beats Culture Club

Smeagol Vs. Dad, pt. I

So the year was 1989, we were living on 4114 Holmes, which was literally 3 blocks from where that same year Robert Berdella was torturing and murdering his gay lovers at his home on 3926 Campbell. The showdown was imminent: Smeagol, who was young and fast and had the same attitude that would later in life get him knocked out by an old man, and my dad, who had not been ravaged by the crack pipe yet and was 300 pounds of hair and anger.

No one remembers what the argument was over, but we all remember how the spirited bout of fisticuffs began, gather round, listen up.

Dad had just told Smeagol that "he was the boss, and if you don't like it you can kiss my ass", and had settled on the couch to think about how he was going to be so much of a failure later in life. All of a sudden Smeagol comes running out of the kitchen, and, not missing a beat, drives his fist right into my dad's face. The fight was on, Dad picked SMeagol up and smashed him against the fireplace, Smeagol punched my dad in the balls, they rolled around on the floor for a few seconds, and Smeagol moved out that day. First fight, Dad 1, Smeagol 0. I will tell parts 2 and 3 in this series Monday.

Scam Time!

So the last time we spoke with Benson Hunter, AKA Bukkake Bob, he told me to fly out to London and bring 1500 dollars with me to get my check after my completely ridiculous email. As always, scammer's emails will be in black, my replies in red, my thoughts in blue:

From Onthedot Delivering Company To Mr.Gerbiler Bob‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Thu 11/01/07 5:18 AM
To: Philip McKraken (

Att. Philip McKraken,

Your email has been recieved today in our Shipping/Logistics department of onthedot courier service,this is to comfirm that we are in receipt of your prompt responce to our email and it was well noted in the courier department.

In regard to the options sent to us the courier department would advised you to come over to london your self and claim your parcel from us, but it would be better for you to pay for the cost of delivering because it would cost you more money for you to arrival london to claim your parcel moreover you are to come with the sum of 1,500 pounds because we are brocasting you live on two televion channel. Why the fuck would I pay to be put on TV?

Please you are to pick from the parcel delivering invoic so that we can see how to help you deliver your consignment without any further delay because your parcel are due for delivering.

Note:That you are to proved the courier the exate time you will be at home so that we can make the delivering at that time because we dont give are parcel to a family members or freind due to the content of the parcel hence you are to signed a document.

Please save this document as it contains important information about your parcel at ON THE DOT COURIER/FREIGHT SERVICE LTD.

Your Reg. Order No: SH231282. Parcel description and delivery information.We assume all responsibilities in case of eventuality. Oh, well THAT'S good...

All orders not delivered within seven (7) working days from this communication will be returned. Please ensure that you confirm your delivery address.
Do note, that your check has been signed and parcelled ready for delivery.
Once you confirm your acceptance of the conditions aforementioned! The Modalities and how to make your payment will be sent to you.

With Best Regards
Mr.Benson Hunter
(Delivering Officer)

I like how once I mentioned modalities and consignments and shit he started calling it the same thing, what an unimaginative retard. Let's have some fun, shall we? By the way, he resent this email the next day with the heading: Last email from courier service", like I had better hurry up or something...

From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Sat 11/03/07 7:32 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

I believe I will come to London, I have som vacation time coming up soon... I am sorry it took so long to write back, I did a show at this bar called Buddies with Hot Karl, and we had to use Vaseline, bananas, a donkey, duct tape, a car battery, nipple cream (to prevent lactating) and a toilet brush, although I made a lot of money I am completely exhausted. I plan on bringin 5000 dollars with me, as well as the thong I wore at the show last evening. Is there anything else I need to bring? Let me know.

Your bud, Philip McKraken, Duke of Chutney, OBGYN, DDS, MD

PS - Hot Karl wanted me to send along his picture, would it be possible for you to send your picture? I will be making arrangements for my flight Monday, where should I come to? Heathrow? Can you set up hotel accomodations for me so we can work out the modalities? Also please set up some hot ladies for our... entertainment. I await your urgent response.

By the way, yes that is a dude, and no I did not remove the little web tag at the bottom (I'm lazy). Jesus I am getting sick just looking at this. He does, however, write back after this picture...Fuck.

Anyway. more on Monday.

Thursday, November 15, 2007


Today's My birthday!
But I'm still going to work
I guess I'm old

Essay Time

OK so I am getting my bachelor's degree in criminal justice from Kaplan University Online (Goooo Klansmen!), and I am currently enrolled in a critical thinking course. Our Unit 2 project was to write an essay that gives an argument we had taken a stance over. I would like to share with you my essay, although it only took me 10 minutes to come up with and write out, this is the kind of stuff that has in the past gotten A's from even the most stingy professors, and this is no exception:

We Should Kill Kittens
Picture this: you are at home, dozing comfortably in your favorite chair, a warm fire crackling happily while the television drones on in the background for the new fad ab-strengthening tool, the smells of the hearty dinner you finished earlier still lingering like an old friend. You’re in your socks, the ones your wife keeps trying to throw away but fit every contour of your feet like a mother holding a baby in her soft embrace, nurturing every curve and crevasse of your slightly misshapen appendage. A large mug of cocoa, the marshmallows just starting to melt, steams fragrantly at your side.

Boom! You hear it, the feral growl of a vicious kitten, intent on clawing your pant leg up and getting into your cocoa, it’s razor-plated tongue showing between the white blades of it’s teeth, innocent eyes hiding the turmoil and hellish intent of this evil beast. You try to ignore it, cringing inside as the little furry ball of Hades sharpens it’s talons of death on your Ethan Allen for the millionth time, trying to find the serenity of peaceful slumber, but you know it’s not to be. Too late you realize you are wearing the death robe, the one with all of the lingering pieces of yarn hanging off of it, and you try to hold completely still, hoping the foul beast will walk by without the attack you know is going to come; it has every since your wife let this wolf in sheep’s clothing into the house a month ago. How can she not see the terror this being is capable of? Why does she nurture it and allow it to take up your side of the bed, almost grinning at you as you try to lay on your side and not fall off the edge into the terrible, cold abyss that is the wooden floor, a chasm some 3 feet straight down?

You try to hold still, but a twitch from an old football injury gives it all away, it happens much too fast: the kitten, noticing the tassels waving teasingly in front of it, lunges like a lion protecting his pride, yet again completely missing and clawing into the soft flesh of your calf yet again, impossibly getting the same spot that was healing from the last time you dared walk past your bed, and at that moment, the white hot pain of it sinking both it’s claws and it’s strangely little mouth filled with hypodermic needles of Painicin© into your leg, you finally come to the conclusion any rational person would come to: all kittens must be killed.

How long are we going to stand by while this scourge of the living room lays siege to our quiet evenings, attacking our peace and quiet like an unstoppable rebel force, conquering all that is ours starting with our spot in the closet and moving into the bed, taking over our couches, chairs, computer keyboards and the like, before we realize we have a problem?

In conclusion, there is only one way to rid ourselves of this scourge: we must kill them before they kill us; it’s a matter of life and death. How would you respond?
For the record, I do not advocate killing kittens, I just thought it would be fun to take a completely indefensible position and argue for it. I would like to know what you all think of this, your opinions mean more to me than some silly teacher's.
OK that's done, on to business. I am a little late with the vote on McCool's and the Tylester's videos, I will get those out Monday, the winner will get lunch that Friday, possibly with a ride in the Escort (on my stick shift of love!) thrown in to be able to tell your grand kids you rode in the Escort and lived to tell the tale.
More tomorrow, my scams are filling up so I need to offload some more of them on you, and Monday I will relay Smeagol vs. Dad pt. III: Armageddon It (Def Leppard Roolz!)

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

"I'd suck a dick..."

Lo and behold, ye!
Hath thine eyes cloud black this day?
Chiefs will get better!

Fuck, Dude!

So my girl was over, we had been together about 2 months, and she was meeting my dad for the first time. I was a little nervous because I had met her dad, who was a huge black man who made it a point to be as menacing as possible with me, though later in life she told me that he actually liked me, as was evidenced by his frequent talking to me about his hernia he suffered on the railroad that I was too polite to tell him I cared nothing about, because my dad had told all my friends how badly he needed pussy and frequently would ask if they had a single mother or an older sister who was over 18 and single, thus losing any chance of me having any normal friends.

Anyway, we were talking in the living room, which was cool, and my dad was for most intents and purposes pretty cool about it, though I could see him frequently taking glances as her chest (she had done some modeling, which was strange because she was with me, a fat ass with bad skin and a gap tooth, I will put up a poll as to your theories on why she was with me soon) and I was sure she noticed as well.

That's when the Cool Dad 1.0 short circuited.

"You know, Carmel (not her real name, but close enough), all of this furniture you are sitting on came out of other people's garbages, you'd be amazed at what people throw away!"

The slightly interested "hmm!" that she emitted told me to try to steer the subject away, lest he start embarrassing me more by asking her if she had an older sister or a friend who was of age. I tried to talk about something else, anything else, but it was too late.

"You know, I love my boys. I would do anything for them, I would suck someone off on the streets in order to buy food for them." I was trying to sink into the couch, desperately trying to avoid the proud smile Dad was giving me that he was willing to make such a sacrifice. Carmel was stunned, sitting there looking like she would rather be any place but there. No that is not the exact verbage my dad used, but I do remember him tellin her he would give another man oral pleasures to feed us, I just cannot remember the exact way he said it.

He then started talking about why my mom was not there, telling this poor girl that my mom was a godless whore who took numerous penises (penii?) every night at whatever bar it is she works at, further assuring that unless I could lick my own ear I had little to no chance of keeping this one. Thankfully he excuses himself to go take a dump and we sit there, the television off, listening to him fart loudly in the bathroom that is less than 10 feet from where we are. I decide to wait until her parents get there to pick her up waiting awkwardly outside with her. She chatted on about random other things, carefully avoiding my dad's admission that he would suck another man's penis, and when her parents showed up, she popped a kiss on my cheek, probably sucking in some of the delicious lard that I am known for sweating, and at that moment I was in love, and strangely, even with the smell of my dad's shit wafting out from the front window, hungry for some hearty beef stew. Yum!

Come on, People!

So it looks like McCool and the Tylester are going to vie for the pleasures a free lunch come with... I must say I am a bit saddened by the lack of response, but then again I am assuming most of you have just finished laughing at the first Smeagol post, so...

I will throw the vote up as soon as this one is over, and we will go from there.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Scam Time (ongata memorilius)

Damn it Huard sucks!

Why's this place smell like Mayo?

I can hear the fat

Scam time!

Alright so I had some fun with a couple of scammers, and I would like to share 2 such scams with you gentle readers today. But first, an observation:

I went to the Chief's game Sunday. First time ever out there. Holy fucking hell they sucked. It did not help that the majority of the people around me smelled of beer or old curdled mayonnaise either. I may write on this in the future, but fuck is it too much to ask someone to bathe before going out in public?

Anyway, on to the scams of the day. When we last left our friend Benson Hunter, he was still trying to get me to send him like 1200 dollars for the courier to release documents, completely ignoring my email that UPS would deliver it for like 4 dollars. As always, Scammer's emails will be in black, mine in red, and from now on my thoughts will be in blue. Read on, yo:

RE: ‰ñ•¢F RE: ‰ñ•¢F RE: ‰ñ•¢F UK.NATAIONAL‏
From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Tue 10/30/07 7:01 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

Hurry up and get my check out here yo!


Date: Mon, 29 Oct 2007 10:39:23 +0000

Subject: Re: FW: ‰ñ•¢F RE: ‰ñ•¢F RE: ‰ñ•¢F UK.NATAIONAL

Attn: Welcome to On The Dot Couriers Head Office

5 Shipston

Industrial Estate

Darlingscott Road



CV36 4PR

Your email was recieved in our office today,This email is to inform you that and International Certified Cashiers Cheque Made Out In Your name in the amount of £850,000.00{Eight hundred and fifty thousand Great Britain Pounds}and some other vital document was sent to us by a lottery company here in United kingdom. Right now your check is in our possesion ready to me delivered to you without any delay,but before we can commence on the delivering you are therefor to send us the following requirements.for us to commence with the delivering of your check.

1,NAME: You should be able to tell by my email address and the email sent to you from the lottery, my name is Philip McKraken, choad.

2,DELIVERING ADDRESS: 8238 North Oak Trafficway, Kansas City, Missouri 64118

3,COUNTRY/STATE: Unted States, Missouri (usually people want this the other way around, not like those African heathens)

4,TEL/FAX NUMBERS:816-436-2485 (my phone is out, you might try it next week, email is better)

You are to proved us with the details as soon as possible. For more information about On The Dot then please contact us and we will be more than happy to send out our parcel delivering invoice to you any other information you require. Please contact immediately.

Warm Regards

Mr.Steve Williams

The address and telephone number are to the Burger King on Barry Road up here, I am going to get the address and number to some gay bars and use those as well. I have no idea if this guy has any idea what a "choad" is, but it's a funny word and I think I am going to set up a new email address with some kind of play on said word. I wonder if this loser actually called Burger King or not, I am going to email him and see if he can make that call. Anyway:

So before I got a chance to respond, he sent along this authentic Word 97-created document asking for money, take a gander:

Pretty snazzy yo! So I finally get a chance to respond:

From: Philip McKraken (
Sent: Wed 10/31/07 11:13 PM
To: Benson Hunter (

I noticed the package is brown, would white be cheaper? For that price I could catch a flight over to London, conquer Britain and get the package myself! I will give you a counter-offer, that's what we do in America, we counter-offer, or "reacharound" to come to an agreement, especially in San Francisco. I have 3 choices as well, let's see if we can meet in the middle:

1. UPS, which delivers to and from London and Britain, will bring me the check for $3.76. Please beat that price.

2. I can actually buy a ticket, go to your office, and claim my check.

3. You can take the money out of my winnings, plus a little for yourself, I believe 5% to cover the modalities of this consignment.

Also, as I am using my work account to do this, please use the code name "Gerbiler Bob" in your correspondence.Let me know your mind so we can get my check to me with as little out of pocket expenses as possible.

Philip McKraken, Duke of Gant, MD., Bishop of the Pitched Tent

I am pretty sure since I am using scam-speak myself he will find out that I am bullshitting, nope!

From Onthedot Delivering Company To Mr.Gerbiler Bob‏
From: Benson Hunter (
Sent: Thu 11/01/07 5:18 AM
To: Philip McKraken (
Att. Philip McKraken,

Your email has been recieved today in our Shipping/Logistics department of onthedot courier service,this is to comfirm that we are in receipt of your prompt responce to our email and it was well noted in the courier department.

In regard to the options sent to us the courier department would advised you to come over to london your self and claim your parcel from us, but it would be better for you to pay for the cost of delivering because it would cost you more money for you to arrival london to claim your parcel moreover you are to come with the sum of 1,500 pounds because we are brocasting you live on two televion channel.

Please you are to pick from the parcel delivering invoic so that we can see how to help you deliver your consignment without any further delay because your parcel are due for delivering.

Note:That you are to proved the courier the exate time you will be at home so that we can make the delivering at that time because we dont give are parcel to a family members or freind due to the content of the parcel hence you are to signed a document.

Please save this document as it contains important information about your parcel at ON THE DOT COURIER/FREIGHT SERVICE LTD. Your Reg. Order No: SH231282. Parcel description and delivery information.We assume all responsibilities in case of eventuality.
All orders not delivered within seven (7) working days from this communication will be returned. Please ensure that you confirm your delivery address.
Do note, that your check has been signed and parcelled ready for delivery.
Once you confirm your acceptance of the conditions aforementioned! The Modalities and how to make your payment will be sent to you.

With Best Regards
Mr.Benson Hunter
(Delivering Officer)

By now I am pretty sure I can do whatever I want to this loser, so I let him sit and stew for a few days, and move on to mess with this little gem:








So she is dying from cild or cold and is sleeping outside the school and moved to Ethiopia and still has money to log onto a computer every day? It doesn't add up. Enter Mr. Butts, Semore Butts:

OMG how can I help!‏

From: Semore Butts (

Sent: Tue 10/16/07 9:44 PM


I read your story and it touched me, deep down inside. I feel on you for your great loss. It's terrible when an honest man is killied in front of a woman he loves, and even worse that you must beg on the streets of Ethiopia for monies to get online instead of eating. Tell me how I can help. Please do not think me forward, but I also noticed since your husband is dead you are single now. What do you look like?

Semore Butts, OBGYN, DDS, Esq.

More to come, man I am getting pretty good at this scambaiting, I just had to realize a few cardinal rules:

1. DO not go all gay on the first email, work your way up to it.

2. Start promising money right away, otherwise they will catch on.

3. Once you have established you want to help, go as gay as Freddy Mercury doing a benefit show at Fort Dix during a waterfight.

More later...

Friday, November 9, 2007

Dad and the 3 liter

a show I would watch daily
ah, those were good times

Spread Eagle

So soon after Janet had moved in, we were all sitting around, bored because Dad could no longer afford cable and her fat fucking human waste of a piece of fucking shit asshole fat ass jerk shithole of a son Fatso had taken up the Sega for the third day in a row, constantly playing video games and only taking breaks to attain more food or stink our bathroom up with his numerous Cartman-like bouts of hurried intense shitting.

Anyway, we heard Dad and Janet arguing over something, probably money or that sweet rock, and Janet stomps out and leaves. We start a game of Sock Fight: what this is is we all get together a bunch of socks and roll them up into balls, and put them in a big pile in the middle of the living room. We then assemble teams and turn all the lights out and grab about 4 socks a piece and hide, until someone tells us all to go and then we all sneak around, throwing balled up socks at one another. Hey it was either that or watch hardcore porn in a room full of dudes, which happened a lot also, and is very awkward when you have the 2nd smallest dick in the room.

Anyway I had decided to hide by my dad's room, and since it was cracked I opened it a little further to be able to see if someone was coming my way. I leaned in, and saw my dad, butt naked, spread eagle on his bed, gently jerking it while also whining like a bitch, presumably because Janet had just left. I also accidentally knocked over one of the 3 liters he kept by his bed and filled with urine, because he was too lazy to get up and make the LITERALLY 10 FOOT TRIP TO THE BATHROOM. Fucking gross, dude!

I tell ya, no amount of therapy can take away some of the stuff that happened there. Janet's nephew, who was 23, let's call him Mike, inexplicably moved in with us as well, and commandeered a bed and a healthy portion of our food. He had a pretty nice car, which I remarked on and wondered aloud since he did not have a job where one could get a car like that without, you know, cash.

He informed me that he took the car on a test drive and just never took it back. Alrighty then, nice. I wondered if he knew the police would be out looking for him, something he did not seem terribly worried about. He did pioneer a few things, though: he was the first person to call my dad Steve-o, outside of his dealers of course, and was the first person to crap on our living room floor when we moved out of the Duplex, which is a tradition of sorts with them.

Back to Fatso. Damn I hated him with a passion unmatched in later endeavors. He had asthma, almost never bathed, clogged the toilet up all the time and would get one of us to bring him food so he did not have to stop playing video games. I would frequently fantasize about him dying from asthma or from shitting his guts out, which was not that far out of the realm from the noise he made while deucing it up. Not to say I never acted on these impulses. I once set all the clocks 5 hours ahead and got him to go wait on the school bus at 3 in the morning, and let him stand out in the snow for almost a half hour before he came back in crying because he was cold.

I think I am going to hit up on some more Smeagol Monday...but maybe not since I have it off and I do not like to touch computers or put on clothes when I have an extra day off...

Thursday, November 8, 2007

The Return of the Iceman

I kick it old school

Run DMC not Ja Rule

6 in tha mornin'!

Iceman Iceman!

So after the damn sandwich-in-the-trash fiasco, Iceman kind of faded back in with the rest of the bums that frequented the Town Pavilion, urinating on everything, sleeping on the park benches, yelling at themselves and in general being complete nuisances.

It was getting cooler outside, and football season was in full sway. I was working on a particular Sunday morning, which was always awesome because I pretty much slept until the Chiefs game came on and then turned the camera pointing towards the food courts on in order to catch the game. We had only one other guard, Ernest, who was as cool as they come, and he would usually bring in some under the radar movies or something like that and we would watch movies and the like instead of working. Good times.

It was on one of these days, whilst Ernest was "out in the field", which meant he was asleep in the company truck with the lights on or reading the paper on the can, both worthy endeavors that I myself had engaged in quite often, when I saw Iceman acting kind of strange across the street. He was kind of bopping up and down, like maybe he was dancing to some music. I left my post and moseyed on outside, and there was a new bunch of loft apartments going up across the street, and the construction that went along with that, and there was some kind of elevator music going on out there, to which Iceman was in fact dancing to. He also looked to be mumbling to himself, and both of his hands were in his pockets, so I assumed he was in a competitive game of pocket pool as well, and, becoming bored with him masturbating through his pants while looking at some of the pictures of the new loft (they did look kind of nice, but I am not sure that nice) I went back inside to catch the game.

Ernest calls me on the radio about 15 minutes later and tells me to look at the camera in our Main Street garage, which is odd because not much happens over there ever, it is a very quiet garage, that because it sits right by that huge Metro stop continuously smells of urine and is often during the colder months a kind of camping place for some of the city's homeless. I looked in the garage and saw nothing, and relayed this. Ernest told me to look in the stairwells, and there I saw him. The Iceman, apparently not content to jerk it in front of the lofts, had walked over to the garage and was in the act of taking a dump in the stairwell, his pants down and a strained look on his face. Company protocol dictated I call the police, but I am not sure if it is morbid curiosity or the fact that I would be annoyed to be bothered in the middle of a dump, but I decided to watch and then call when he was done.

So he's shitting, right, and all of a sudden some lady gets off of the elevator and starts walking down the stairs, and stops and appears to scream something at Iceman before calling - you guessed it - me. "Some bum is sitting out here naked!" She howls indignantly. I want to tell her that's not all he's doing, to take a closer look and then maybe she would understand and let it go, but decide better of it. I call the cops and make out an incident report. It was the closest I felt to Iceman ever, bringing me to the conclusion that shitting does bring the world together.

Iceman was a nasty motherfucker, but what was strange about his story is he was really schizoid, and was on medication; his sister was cashing his social security checks and the like and selling his drugs, and just kicked him out to live on the streets.

Another confrontation, which I may have talked about before but I don't care, did not end so well. There was a huge problem, since there was heat coming from the inside of the building, with homeless people sleeping in front of the doors, blocking them off. Now for the legitimately homeless, I would give them directions to the city union mission and sometimes even bus fare to make it out there, some people are just down on their luck and not sure where to turn. Some of them, however, are bums, who only want money for alcohol and urinate on the building and you too if you interrupt them.

I was on my lunch break when one such thing occurred. One of the female guards, Angela, was on tour walking around the building, and came upon one such bum. Now usually they would tell the bum to take a hike or just go ahead and call the cops, the bum would get up and saunter away, only to come back later so someone else could make them leave. We both knew our roles and played them out pretty well. This bum, however, was new to the game. Angela told him to get up, and he started calling her names: Bitch, cunt, whore, shitface, etc. Like a moron, she started arguing back with him instead of calling the cops! It escalated until the bum threw his bag at her, almost knocking her into Petticoat Lane, that little side street that connects Walnut to Main.

I was listening to the whole thing, and was pissed at this point. I slammed my radio down, grabbed the 14 inch Mag light, and stomped out there to teach that bum a lesson. He is still screaming at Angela, telling her he is going to whip her ass and how she is the reason he is homeless, yada yada yada, and then he turns and sees me. All of a sudden he is cringing against the side of the building, saying "I got epilepsy, I got epilepsy!" Whatever, bum. Apparently if he did it was not stopping him from assaulting Angela by throwing a bag apparently full of clothes and other assorted toiletries at her, so I persuaded him, with the help of my Mag light, to remove himself from the corner.

Apparently he did actually have epilepsy, and a bright flashing light intermingled with getting roughed up by a security guard dragging him away from the building is not conducive to those conditions. My bad, yo...

More tomorrow.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


I have one video from mmccool and one from the Tylester, but no more than that. Does no one want to eat lunch with me? :( I promise I will bathe and wear clothes! Or is it that no one believes if they win they will get the gift of a date with Smeagol and/ or Mystery, with the aforementioned butt pleasures? I am completley not kidding I will pay Smeagol or Mystery's way and have them go on a date with you...

Assorted Dementia

Smeagol's smelly thong
can the bacteria think?
Yes, better than Smeags


I got my guitar for Guitar Hero last night. I ordered the game and a guitar and an extra guitar and I got the guitar last night. Getting just the guitar is like what I would assume getting a blowjob from a blind hooker would be like: sure you know the end product is gonna be great, but all the teasing from the missed hookups leaves you feeling even more impatient. Plus, you owe 15 dollars for something that should have taken 10 minutes and ends up taking 20 because she's sucking the stick shift off, but I digress....

I spoke with JJ, he is going to have me pick him up and take him to my house this weekend so we can have a marathon session of the I'm a Foolish, Foolish man speeches by my dad and also the Throbbin' Rob Chronicles, which I will explain in further detail:

When I first got on the eBay, way back in 1999, I bought tons of crap before I realized I could be a little picky with my cash. One of the things I bought was a 386 laptop with a floppy and a grayscale screen. It had Windows for workgroups on it and with that came wordpad. I lucked on an idea one afternoon whilst waiting for a nudie picture to download, as during those times I had a lot of time to think (I had a 14.4 kbps modem): "Hey, I should start a book!"

And that, my friends, was when Throbbin Rob was born.

Throbbin' Rob is a man who for some reason drives a beat up Pinto, goes everywhere naked, sticks various things in his ass like money, condoms he plans on using, resumes, and the like. He has a retarded son, Sven, who is not actually retarded but is 23 and still in the 3rd grade, another son named funnily enough Daniel, who for some reason takes no end of delight sticking random fruits and vegetables up Rob's asshole while he sleeps, has horrid diarrhea and is as gay as the sky is blue, a wife who's only job appears to be cleaning the diarrhea off of the walls and getting food, and a constant flow of hot exchange students that he humps and then sends back. We had quite a few bit characters, as most of the writings were on whatever happened that day, and that was when Mom and Dad were in full on cracketry, and we had amassed maybe 50 pages of material, with liberal use of fart jokes and anal seepage. Good times.

Smeagol has, and has always had, no shame. When JJ would be humping some girl on the living room couch, the living room floor, the kitchen, twice on the toilet, and in his bedroom (which happened the least), Smeagol would stand there, less than 10 feet away, in his thong, and gently massage his own cock-n-ballz, probably in tune with JJ. That's fuckin' nasty. I know he used to stand at the bottom of the stairs and listen to the Stevester and whatever lady who was lucky enough to ride the Stevester Black Mamba rollercoaster that night, because he would tell me the next morning "man I heard some girl howling at the moon last night, you must have been pounding that pretty hard" giving me this very unsettling look, all that much more unsettling because except for his over sized thong and these stark white socks he was naked.

Smeagol would leave his bedroom door, which you had to walk toward down this hallway to get to the bathroom which was right by it (They shared the same doorjamb even), and try to get Mystery to howl at the moon while he dominated her anal cavity, and the sound of strained farts, Smeagol saying in his always exhausted sounding girly voice "take it bitch, take, take, take it alll" and Mystery kind of grunting softly and farting every few seconds ruined many a deuce I tried to drop in the next room, well that and the fact that in the 10 years I have known her Mystery has never, NEVER flushed the toilet.

So it should come as no surprise when I finally acquired a fine automobile, and kept a 20 in the visor for gas, that Smeagol would ask to borrow said car when his ran out of gas, and subsequently steal my money and blame it on my mom. He would also bring it back with no gas, and something was usually broken (my radio, the side mirror, the windows would not go down) and I did not realize until now that the issue was probably not anything Smeagol did, per se. It was probably his cloak of failure, breaking my side mirrors, taking the knobs off of the radio, and generally ruining everything Smeagol touches.

More tomorrow, I think more on the scam I am trying to nurture...