Overview:
Several years ago, on a rainy Saturday, boredom set in as I surfed the
Internet. An email popped up that caught my eye: "Dear Sir: I need your
help!" It was a request for financial assistance from a person in Africa
whose father had been assassinated, whose mother had died of cancer and whose
dog, Happy, had pink-eye (or whatever).
On a whim, I answered and offered help. The ensuing email back-and-forth
went on for a total of 61 emails before the spammer got tired of my high-jinks
and quit writing.
Over the next two years, more than 4,000 scam-type emails were received
... and the concept of a book was born. Working with my daughter Mattie Somer
Smith Cummins, we now have more than 160,000 words in email dialogue with more
than 200 of the Best of the Best Scamming Spammers. By the end of the year,
after culling a majority of second-rate exchanges, it will be a book titled:
Scamming the Internet Spamming Scammer.
Here's a snippet from the book. Exchanges with some memorable scammers
will be posted here in the future. (To whet your appetite further, one day's
mail brought a FedEx package from a scammer in Canada containing more than
$180,000 in money orders from three businesses, including Wal-Mart, plus
$30,000 in American Express gift "cheques." My local bank said
the "cheques" looked real enough to cash; the money orders were for
unusually large amounts and "might not" be cashed.
Learning to love spam – the email
variety, not the canned meat
Few computer users on the planet –
make that “no” computer users – have not received unsolicited emails offering
everything from quick stock tips, how to “Meet Singles in Your Area,” credit
card applications, a promise of a free laptop, free vacation, collection of CDs
for a penny, or free car insurance quotes.
The spam filter software phenomenon
is a multi-million-dollar industry and, for the most part, the software is well
worth the money. But those that spam, that make their living from blast
emailing millions of mail offers too good to pass up per year, routinely find a
way to get around virtually any spam filter. That is accomplished by inventive
subject lines that intentionally circumvent the litany of words that trigger
spam filters: Rich, deal, fortune, stock, quick . . . and myriad others.
It’s inconceivable that a large
number of computer users would invite spammers to infest a personal computer.
Those that do are either extremely lonely, desire to get mail – any type of mail
– fall into the category of cyperspace masochists, or are simply interested in
the verbal foreplay. Many computer users get dragged into Spammer Hell
unwittingly. It’s relatively simple to do: Fill out an online questionnaire for
something as innocuous as trying to win a free computer, DVD player, or free
dinners or movie tickets and a deluge of offers – real and surreal – will pop
up with the frequency of woodland mushrooms after a spring shower.
A half-completed, simple
questionnaire from a reputedly on-the-level research firm about personal
preferences in regard to reading material, soft drink, music preference, and
other common discussion-of-life topics resulted in hundreds of spam emails
flooding a single Google gmail address.
The first week after the spam
“hook” was dropped into the email ocean, 121 spammers dropped off invitations:
Try a new cookbook, get a new credit card with “no interest” for a year; try
out an online encyclopedia service; sign up for hot stock tips; “win” a free plasma
TV; and a link to a soft porn site based on the Scooby-Do character.
(Scooby-Do, not Shaggy.)
By Week 6, more than 2,100 spam
emails had made their way to the in-basket. Of that number, 427 were
answer-this-because-I-want-your-money scams. Five months after the initial spam
message, more than 20 spam emails were still coming in daily.
It is no secret to law enforcement
and bank officials, or dispirited victims who buy into scams, that sales tools
of the scammers include a variety of “hooks,” with greed being the largest and
most weighty of the instruments of your destruction. There are few people on
the planet that would not jump at the prospect for large sums of money for
relatively little effort. Look at the everyday examples: Those who religiously
play the lottery; gamblers of all levels and degree of professionalism;
televangelists; and, many professional athletes.
What turns a scammer on? The thrill
of the hunt and the imagined reward. Scammers look for “high signs,” words or
phrases that trigger a response to hit the victim on a certain level of
emotion. One scam message might be sent out to generate a small “courier fee”
for quick, down-and-dirty transfer of cash. But if the victim lets it slip he
or she is living off an “insurance settlement” trust fund, the scammer takes on
a different life and the monetary target is increased exponentially.
If you are religious and
pulpit-pound your chest in your contact with them, the next email usually
include phrases like “The Lord be With You” or “Praise Jesus” or “I am most
happy to be communicating with another person of faith. Praise God.”
If it is revealed the intended
victim has an illness or affliction, the words of sympathy and solace pour
forth like healing elixir from a computer fountain. The targeted victim will be
reassured the malady – regardless of what it is –will not in any way deter
their participation in the too-good-to-believe proposition. Information about a
deceased loved one from a victim brings forth words of support.
Often the scammer will one-up the
victim, relating horrible tales of personal tragedy and woe. That holds true
unless the original letter contained a story about a murdered relative, or one
who died in a plane crash, assassination, or is lying in a “cancerous
condition” on the brink of death. In that case, the intended victim will be
reminded – again and again – about the situation, striving for maximum
sympathy, digging the emotion-filled hook in ever deeper.
Some scammers, when all else fails, make
the ultimate sacrifice. They actually “die” during the email correspondence to
add a nice grief garnish to the pitch. It’s not unusual for the scammer to
claim to be fading fast, but still valiantly trying to leave his or her money
to a deserving and good person – you – before Death rides in, cloak flowing in
his wake, scythe swinging.
Relying as most scammers do on a prepared
script for the initial contact, any deviation from the patented spiel the
connivers expect to hear in return can cause immediate cessation of email
contact and dismissal of the victim. Goodbye. And on to the next mark. Or, the
confusion caused by a non-expected answer can trigger curiosity, and the
scammers themselves become the scammed.
If a foreign-based scammer runs head-long into a word or phrase they
don’t know, they take the action of
the intelligent ignorant: They ignore it. A
good example is the acronym sometimes
stuck in emails: ESAD! Only one
scammer every asked what it meant: Eat
Sh** and
Die!
Some working the con will go to great
lengths in an attempt to salvage a seemingly lost victim that fulfills certain
expected and sought-after qualities in an Internet scam victim: Sincerity,
gullibility, cultivated naiveté, a rare wanna-help attitude, and, most
importantly, ready cash. One con ended abruptly, then was resurrected two
months later like nothing had happened.
There is a core of scam pitches that
carry, more or less, the same central themes. While the location, product or
computered hook may vary slightly, for the most part, all have the same
objective . . . get money, get it fast, and disappear into the dark Internet
forest.
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