During the winter holiday season I find myself looking back fondly at the memories of my youth. The days between Halloween and Christmas were kind a bright spot during my teen years and looking back makes me long for simpler times, when winter nights seemed to last forever and future adult failings were just an invisible speck on the horizon.

I had an awkward childhood. My parents moved a couple of times and I never really found friends who were interesting or found me interesting. For a couple of years I was signed up to play little league football (Not that faggy soccer crap) but there was a rule that every kid needed to play at least 5 minutes per game. I was one of those kids that they would throw in at the last 5 minutes when we were losing big, or 5 minutes before halftime when we where winning. I sucked. I used to sit alone on the bench and make explosion sounds when there was a tackle.

My pre-teen years were not kind either. During 6th grade at East Middle, I had a full blown case of crater face acne and a little bit of a weight problem. I could hide my budding man breasts beneath a shrunken E.L.O concert jersey, but the pimples were out there like Christians at a Pride Rally. But the worst part of my pre-teens was my parents decision to schedule my circumcision. I know, most guys have had this done at birth. Hell, even my brothers had their crowns cut when they were born. My parents could never explain why they never had it done for me. I guess life just got in the way and they never got around to it.

So anyways, right around the start of November during the sixth grade, I was circumcised. God Damn it hurt. The first day back to school, I felt as if I was wearing underpants made from shards of glass. Every young girl wearing a short skirt or tight sweater brought throbbing fiery bolts of pain to my loins as my pubescent wang tried to stand erect. The physical pain soon subsided, but the real damage had been done. Sexuality and pain had become intertwined and to this day, I can't look at women in cheer leading outfits or Jordache Jeans without wincing.

Between my explosive acne and the idea that even the smallest erection would bring about searing pain, I found the better half sixth and seventh grade would be best spent as far away from girls as I could get. I think, for almost two years, I spent every lunch hour in the library reading old Life magazines.

Life moved slowly forward and my self imposed shell began to dissolve. High school allowed me to have a fresh start. Sure, there would be people (girls) who remembered me from middle school, but there would be MORE girls who didn't know me. Also, I looked different. The summer before tenth grade, I had taken on a strict exercise program that consisted of riding my twelve speed bike alone all day, up to 18 miles a day, for six days a week. My complete lack of friends had helped me slough off pounds of baby fat and postpone the full growth of my man boobs until my late thirties. Except for my acne, I thought I looked pretty good.

Tenth grade came and went. I was just so damn shy. I can't even remember speaking to a girl during that first year of high school. I did a lot of staring and dropping pencils during class so I could bend down and pick them up to see if I could look up any skirts. The nearest I came to speaking to a girl was the time in algebra class when out of the blue a girl I was looking at called me freak and demanded that I stop looking at her. I spent three months in the school library during lunch because of that episode. Tenth grade was a wash and eleventh grade, I felt, would be my break out year.

Indeed, with the influx of new tenth graders (girls who knew nothing of my awkward past), the new year was brimming with possibilities. Adding to the mix was my parent's gift to me of a $100 1971 Cadillac Sedan DeVille. I may have had disfiguring facial acne, but I had wheels and girls liked guys with cars, right? More importantly, girls liked guys who could drive them home in a snow storm from school in a car heated with a growling 472 horsepower V8 engine.

Even today, when cool autumn nights turn to chilly winter darkness, the warmth from my car's heater ignites dreams of my youth.

Happy Day..

On this day in 1814, the Pilgrims came together to celebrate the season's last harvest. In their small community, they set up several tents and prepared a dinner that included venison, onions, corn and lobsters.

While most people believe that the Pilgrims invited the local native Americans to their celebration, it is false. The 'Indians' actually were hired as the 'help'. Their instructions were to serve drinks and refill the butter dishes.

Ok, most of that is not true. They did not eat lobster on the first Thanksgiving. Regardless of what they ate, I thought the best way to honor their celebration was to drink an entire fifth of booze and go shopping at Wal*Mart. My shopping on this grand day would help those poor souls working to realize what a precious day with their families that they had missed.

I make it a strict habit to not drive while drunk, so my plan was to consume the entire fifth of Wild Turkey 101 while walking east on Sherman towards my local Wal*Mart. The weather was surprisingly warm for late November, the afternoon sun was bright when I started my trek and the Wild Turkey 101 booze had been transferred into an empty Arctic Blue Gator-aid bottle so as to not draw attention to my public imbibing.

Wild Turkey 101 is not one of your foo-foo booze brands, it is rough and burns like a mother fucker going down. My wife hates when I drink it because she says that it makes me 'shit house crazy'. But, I truly believed that if my bold Thanksgiving Wal*Mart event was to make a respectful impact with the day's hourly slaves, I would need the brain hammer that is Wild Turkey 101.

I passed the fenced country club and looked for real wild turkeys, but saw none. The hills reminded me that in a more inebriated state that the future return trip will be murder. I pressed on.

The final hill on Sherman was crowned with a McDonalds. At this point in my adventure, it was good time to remember that it was bad thing to forget to empty my bowels before drinking a fifth and venturing out on a long walk. My rules of life include no drinking and driving AND only paying customers get to use the restroom. I was turtle heading so the purchase would have to be made when I was done and my hands were washed.

Yea, I wrecked that joint. The evening before my wife had tried her hand at homemade Indian food and it really wanted to get out of my ass at that very moment. Surprisingly, it smelled the same coming out and I had new appreciation for the hard working men and women who took part in the Exxon Valdez clean up. Because, the poor schmuck who had to wipe the stall down as part of their minimum wage career will come very short in the work done and money made column. Shit was all over.

I cleaned myself up and left my soiled underpants in the restroom trash can. Maybe a selection from the dollar menu would soothe my bubbling nether regions. I got my McDouble to go. I did not want to be there eating when some guy came out of the men's room pointing fingers as to who did what and why there is profanity written in feces above the sink. No sir, my mission was to spend the day at Wal*Mart with Mr. Wild Turkey 101.

The dollar hamburger was tasty and coated my stomach with just enough fat to counteract the burning from the shrinking fifth that was my traveling companion. The Dominos Pizza I passed called out pretty fucking loudly. Nope, I have been dieting for over a year and pizza was a once a year treat that I only enjoyed sober and in New York. It hit me that I was getting hammered. Sloppy Hammered.

Maybe it was the combination of the booze, the walking and the afternoon chill in the air? The sun was beginning to slip behind the tree line and the temperature was dipping south. I thought that something warm in my belly may soak up the booze and make my journey easier, so I slipped passed the automatic doors at my local Plumb's Market.

I have written about Plumb's. They have great meat.

Meat was not on the menu this afternoon. A pack of six fresh baked cinnamon sticky buns from the bakery would do very nicely thank you! The cashier asked if I was 'ok', I said I was. But, I couldn't help but to think if she could tell I was a little tipsy. I knew she couldn't see my Gator-aid bottle half filled with Wild Turkey and I was not doing anything that a sober person would be doing. I was just buying a pack of sticky buns. It was when I had left the supermarket and was in the parking lot that I realized that my fly was open. No big thing except that I had left my soiled underpants in the trash can at the McDonalds. I was not only going commando, I was also trolling for queers with my fly wide open. The little man was out and getting some fresh air.

The mild embarrassment of having my twig and berries on public display was only relieved by the sweet warmth of cinnamon heaven and warm Wild Turkey. it was sheer luck that the cashier didn't call the cops on me.

The warmth only lasted to the parking lot of the bowling alley. The buns were done and I was beginning to sing every show tune from 'Chicago' that I knew. I thought it might be smart to go in and use the bowling alley as a warming station but they looked closed. They were. I guess pin monkeys get Thanksgiving off, go figure. So I continued east past the Wesco gas station.

I didn't make it past the Wesco.

The last thing I remember was trying to help a woman pump gas and then going inside to buy a lottery ticket. I must have passed out just after getting my Power Ball ticket because I woke up an hour ago in the passenger seat of my wife's car in the driveway of our house.

My wife is a fucking saint. She could have left me to freeze but she didn't  She brought me home. And even though I gotta sleep in the back bed room tonight, I love her. Love is what thanksgiving is all about. Love the ones who love you and fuck those idiots who had to work today.

Drunk and phoning it in with a quick cut and paste...

From: Ms Jincy Myers <catlady01nunnery@aol.com>
Subject: PLEASE WILL YOU BE OF HELP
To:
Date: Wednesday, February 23, 2011, 11:55 PM

My Dear Friend,

I am lady of 29years old; I was given birth in Tottenham London. Am mixed race, my dad is a British while my mom a native of America and am the only kid of my folks. My parents died 3years ago in a fire outbreak in my dad's factory in Enfield road in London. Have not been married but I’ve been into so many relationships, which seems hurt to me and in which I was cheated. The problem I am into now was caused by my last EX-date.

Please read the attachment file for more details
__________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder <tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
Subject: Re: PLEASE WILL YOU BE OF HELP
To: jincymyers@globomail.com
Date: Wednesday, February 23, 2011, 5:46 PM
Hello and welcom what updildo
Hello Miss Juicy Meyers..
I will be of help in any way that our lord jebus christ wills it to be. I read your mail but could not open the attaced file to read anymore. Please resend that part as i think jesus wants me to read it. I love the idea of being your sexual lover and would be happy to try and bring you to muskegon michigan. You could share my room in my mothers trailer.
Please i want to help you be mine for ever and i will love you to death

Love
Mr Topher WHATUP dldo Crowder
West Mi9chigan NAMBLA chapetr
_______________________________________
From: Jincy Myers <jincymyers@globomail.com>
Subject: Re: PLEASE WILL YOU BE OF HELP
To: "Topher Crowder" <tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
Date: Thursday, February 24, 2011, 6:48 AM

My Dear Topher,
I am lady of 29years old; I was given birth in Tottenham London. Am
mixed race, my dad is a British while my mom a native of America and
am the only kid of my folks. My parents died 3years ago in a fire
outbreak in my dad's factory in Enfield road in London. Have not been
married but I’ve been into so many relationships, which seems hurt to
me and in which I was cheated. The problem I am into now was caused by
my last EX-date.
I am out of the States now and I will like to discuss what brought me
here from the United States or your country. Before coming here, I
registered to search a date on a dating site www.match.com where I met
an African guy whom proved that he loves and he wants me. We talked
for 2 months and some weeks. The African guy convinced me to visit and
live with him pretending to Love me. Then I traveled down to Africa
and while I was coming, the African guy told me to come with enough
money for investment and I even went to the extent to sell my
inherited house just because I want to be with my spouse, I came in
here with a total sum of $4,500,000.00 with all the money I've gotten
from my Dad's business and sales of some properties, because the
African guy told me of an idea to investment in oil firms in his
country. When I got here, he made all possible means to get the money
from me; I refused because he has started acting funny with cruel
characters. Then when I noticed this, I took the money and my
traveling boxes and deposited it with a Security/Insurance Company
here in Africa in order to safe myself and my assets. I told them that
the two boxes are my traveling luggage, which I want to send forth to
U.S.A or your country because I’m returning home, then I paid them up
their custody and security fee, but I did not tell them that the boxes
contain money in order to make everything secure and safe.
Thereafter I left the guy's apartment to a hotel where I am in right
now and from which I am communicating with you now. Now, I'm in need
of your help, have gotten the enough money to run myself when I get to
the States or your country, I want to come over to your end and we can
start a new life together with all the money, I don't want to live
here anymore, you know I'm a foreigner here and it is absolutely
danger for me here, so that is why I need your gesture assistance. I
am hiding from him because he might kill me since I refuse him to have
access to my money after I discovered his interest is just to lay his
flirting hands on the money not love
How I want you to help me? I want the boxes sent to you while I catch
up with you as soon as it is been delivered to you while I come over
to meet you and we can start a business with the money or if you need
me to offer you percentage, then tell me. Every arrangement for the
delivery is kind a perfect, I have obtained customs papers for private
freight and there are seals on the boxes showing that it is a private
delivery and check performed, is free from customs checks, it will be
delivered at your door step by the diplomats of the security company,
you do not need to stress out to receive it. And the boxes have
security codes lock known to me only, only me can open the boxes,
except if I tell anyone the Code, so the Boxes cannot be opened on the
Way of delivery to you.
I am counting on you with trust and I will appreciate your trust
towards this and hoping to hear from you and to meet you in person.
Let me hear from you as soon as possible, so that I can give you the
deposit details and the contact of the security company to arrange the
shipment ASAP. And when the boxes get to you, you will send me some
money for my flight bill and hotel bills so that I can meet you over
there for sharing or to start a business relationship with the money.
I will wait for your response if you would be of help. Will you be of
help? This is not avenue to scheme or beg for arms but moment of been
real and transparent.
Please, contact me on this Email: jincymyers@globomail.com


Sincerely yours,
Jincy Myers
_________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder <tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
Subject: Re: PLEASE WILL YOU BE OF HELP
To: "Jincy Myers" <jincymyers@globomail.com>
Date: Thursday, February 24, 2011, 10:33 PM

Hello and what is updildo ms. juicy
Hello my girl friend ms juicey
I am glad you are writing me back. Sorry it took me a couple of day but one of our NAMBLA members brought a next door neighbor boy to the meeting last night and let me tell you I am so sore, plus we had to 'clean up'. Did you know it takes 3 briks to get a 10yo under the water?
OK OK my fun is over untill our next meeting.
I am so sorry to here that your parents died in a fire. I am sure they are with Jevus now, unless they were muslums. If they were muslums i bet they are in hellfire getting raped by pig men and broomsticks. I am hoping you are a good christian girl who believes jevus died for all of our sins. I am sorry to here you were swindled by match dot com. i too lost my membership money after signing up. seems that you have to be 'legal' and into face front genital entertainment (no dirt bike riding). They kicked me off and wont let me back in. One thing though...you say an african man swindled you. Are you a colored woman? I diodnt think english women were into dating coloreds, in fact i was told they shoot them at the border?
But i guess it doesnt mater wat color the man is that your love, the wang has no color in the dark..right? But i guess you could tell how big it was in the dark? Could love a man how is under normal in size? Not that i am, i can prove it with pictures if you want. I mean when i am next to a a very younger man (10), i look HUGE!!
OK OK i ramble, i am getting excited about helping your and meating you.
How can I help you?
Do you need me to send you anything?
Could you send me a photograph of you? I mean not for only me, but to show the guys at tthe meeting hall, they will not believe that i have a tender WHITE girl as a pen pal? Could you make the picture of you in a nice suntan sheer to the waste pantyhose? I love pantyhose and the thought of seeing you in them will make the dynomite go boom.

But write back at rell me wat exactly waht i need to do to get you out of trouble OK.

Waiting to hear from you soon.
Mr Topher whatup Dioldocrowder
Vice assoicate NAMBLE muskegon chapter
____________________________________
From: Ms Jincy Myers <msjincymyers29@globomail.com>
To: Tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net
Sent: Tue, March 1, 2011 6:29:32 AM
Subject: Re: RE,Pls Will you be of help

My Dear Topher Crowder,
How are you doing today? I just got your email. I will really
appreciate your help and rely on you to help me. All you have to do,
you will write to the security company as my Friend, you will inform
them to have my traveling boxes sent to you. Find attachment is my
photograph. While contacting them, you do not need to tell them that
the boxes contain money, because I told them the boxes are my
traveling luggage’s, which contain my clothes, jewelries and personal
apparels which am sending to my Friend and the boxes are locked with
keys, so, only me have access to the boxes. Only you and I knew about
the money in the boxes. So, it would be delivered safely to you.
When you are contacting them by email or telephone, give them the
deposit details below and let them know the delivery address as well.
Dear, ask them how much it will cost for the clearance and shipment
charge, and when the boxes get to you, i will let you know the
instruction to open the boxes, and you can send me some money for my
flight and hotel bills here so that I can leave here to meet you over
there and we could arrange everything together.I am counting on you,
do not disappoint me, Nigeria men are full of cheats, they are not
worth loving
Dear, please, you shall help me pay for the Clearance and Shipment of
the boxes, and when the boxes get to you, I will let you know how to
open the boxes, and send me money from the boxes for my flight and
hotel bills here, so that i can leave here to meet you and we can
setup things together. You will never regret the help you are
rendering to me. I don’t want you to labor any negative thinking ok
rather be transparent so that we conclude in good faith.


Below are the deposit details:
Deposit Number: FAC-O576-PLG45
Sort/Clearance Code: FAC/576-45/MP56 33
Deposit Certificate #: MPL-FAC-405576
Consignment Description: 2 Traveling Boxes
Depositor: Ms Jincy Myers
Contact of Security Company
Company: Global Fleet Security Company
Agent of United Nation Cargo Airline
Contact Person: Mr Rawlings Moore
Contact Email: glofscompany@ymail.com
Contact Tel: +234-8059390985 let me know when you write to the
security company. I hope all is well with you; I can't wait to meet
you. Waiting for your response.

Sincerely yours,

Ms Jincy Myers
__________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder <tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
To: Ms Jincy Myers <msjincymyers29@globomail.com>
Sent: Wed, March 2, 2011 5:23:37 PM
Subject: Re: RE,Pls Will you be of help
hello anf what up dildo my tender lady freind.

Hello Ms Juicy
I am so glad you are writing me back. I saw the photos you sent. I am so glad you are a white girl. My mother will be proud of me if we are to be come a couple. Although i didnt see any sheer to the waist pantyhose on your legs, if you could indulge me on that please on your next photos. There was mone photo that did cause a boom goest the dynomite moment that allowed me to ruin a whole drawer of athletic soxs. I kept it to a low moan because mother becomes mad when she catches me rubbing one out to either photographs or a well worn pair of sheer to waste pantyhose.
OK OK lets get down to the busines of getting you bent over and taking like a blind teenaged hore. I wll not tell ANYONE about you bags of money. That will be our tender secret that we share together. I cant wate for us to spread that money out on our bed so we can tenderly make love on it.
Do you want me to cantact the security company and ask them to release your money bags? Will i need to pay any deposits? If so i would be very happy to mail you a box of money that i have collected from east michigan NAMBLA dues. I was able to get reimbursed a little extra because of an problem we had last month when one of our members brought one of his next door neighbor boys. The little brat put up quite a fight but we were able to take care of himm with out much of a mess.
OKOK write me back if you want me to type a nice letter and send it to Mr. Rawlings Assmoore at the security company. I can write it very nice soand take care of any depostis to get our money back my sweety.
Also really try to send me a photo of you enjoying a pair of sheer to waste pantyhose....i wont show it to mother and it will be our little secret.
Again, let me know if i should contact the secrity company for our sweet sweet money you little slut hoor.

I cant wate till you write again. I am sure the scabs wuill have fallen off and i will beable to enjoy myself quite handily on the next set of photos (sheer to waste)

My love and your little scabby dirtbike rider
Mr. Topher whatup Dildo crowder
vice president east muskegon NAMBLA chapter

A blast from the past...My "Best Of" emails!

FREE AFRICAN GOLD!!!


From: Habib .a.Nurudine [mailto:habianudin@hotmail.com]
Sent: Thursday, December 23, 2010 10:47 AM
To: undisclosed recipients:
Subject: [Bulk] LETTER FROM MR. HABIB .A. NURUDINE.

My name is Mr. Habib Nurudine., This message might meet you in utmost surprise, However, Its just my urgent need for a foreign partner that made me to contact you for this transaction, I am a banker by profession from Africa Development Bank, Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso/ WESTERN PART OF AFRICA.

I am currently holding the post of a director auditing and accounting section of the bank, Permit my intention to solicit for your mutual support / cooperation to claim and transfer some huge amount of cash from a domiciliary account with my profession.

Full details regarding all modalities for the smooth claim and transfer of the total cash successfully shall be furnished to you upon the receipt of your reply mail and information’s below.

If you are interested, kindly forward your personal information’s as follows.-


Address.-
 Telephone / Fax number.-
Marital Status.-
 Copy of your picture.-
Profession.-
Age.-
Sex.-
Country.-


Your" urgent respond needed as soon as possible.


Sincerely yours,
Mr. Habib Nurudine

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

From: Topher Crowder [mailto:tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net]
 Sent: Thursday, December 23, 2010 9:25 PM
To: 'habianudin@hotmail.com'
Subject: RE: [Bulk] LETTER FROM MR. HABIB .A. NURUDINE.

Oh prase jebus and toot the horn of money.
Hello Mr habib ass nurudine and what up dildo?
I want to tell you how happy I am to here that I am about to receive a large sum of money. Let me tell you that I am in great need of some money for this holiday season. Do the chocolate men in Africa have Christmas to celebrate the birth of our tender white lord and savior? If my choa choa man friend does have Christmas in remberence of the baby jesus then I welcome you and will pray with you. Oh man do I need jesus money today. Mother and I have had some hard times due to me forcing mother to quit her telephone entertainment job. I felt that she was enjoying her job to much and I was having to do too much laundry from her over use of the dish towls. She is a large woman and would tend to get overly excited duing work hours. I started to refuse to give her her sponge baths as she was overly excited and would begin touching my adult areas. With out her working amd me being layd of from my job as head commishioner at the east Muskegon NAMBLA library and recruitment center, we are very close to getting kicked out of our trailer.
OK OK enough about me and my sweet mother.
How much money am I expected to get? Is it more than a thousand dollars?
What do I need to do to get tyhis money?
Can I get this money without mother knowing about it (I could kill her if need be)
I will be sending you my payplal password so you can put the money in my bank.
If this does fall through, would you be interested in being pen pals?
Do you want a membership in NAMBLA?
Would you want to purchase some spicy photographs?

Well let me know what I need to send you and I will look forward to hearing from my chocolate man friend. Does my chocolate man friend come with nuts? (joke)

Love and friendhip in jesus
Mr. Topher Whatup DildoCrowder
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

From: Habib .A. Nurudine [mailto:habianudin1@blumail.org]
Sent: Friday, December 24, 2010 8:51 AM
To: tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net
Subject: I will need your cooperation if you are ready to please this transaction, merry Xmas Mr. Topher

Actually, i which i was to be told to act as the next of kin so that kind of huge money-LIKE INHERITAGE would be transferred into me, it looks good and interesting to me.

Good day., Mr. Topher.

I received you return email,

Lets ahead forward,

1** We are subjected to share out from the money-----60% for me, 40% for you!

2** Actually this fund is not just a fund but lots of Us dollars meaning we both should be swimming on top of too much money only if you will come in as the only remain next of kin that survived from the Atlanta air craft accident.

3** The bank is going to bring you into three conditions and if you are able to comfort the bank by producing all of this needs then the fund will be approved before transferred to you; on this condition.- you should know that you are working for me! so you as for order and take instructions from me before responding to the bank in regard to this claim.

4** Yes ofcause, Do not hunt mother for she is responsible for your good health up till this moment! you are not subjected to pass any kind of human this information because if the world knows about it when the fund is yet not transferred to you i.e i will entirely jail in prison for the rest of my life by my country, so you must know that it's one of your personal TOP SECRET.

5** Get this right, i don't have any business with your bank, but as soon as you apply to my bank you shall be told to forward every of your receivers information to the management; OK?

6** lets be of good courage so that we archive our goals!

7** Mr. Topher, you have my needs with you, look over the letter i sent you earlier my request is wildly written there.

I will need your cooperation if you are ready to please this transaction, merry Xmas Mr. Topher

Your urgent response needed as soon as possible

Warm regard,
Mr. Habib Ali Nurudine.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder [mailto:tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net]
Sent: Saturday, December 25, 2010 12:17 AM
To: 'Habib .A. Nurudine'
Subject: RE: I will need your cooperation if you are ready to please this transaction, merry Xmas Mr. Topher

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND PRAY FOR THE WELCOME OF OUR WHITE LORD BABY JESUS
I can not believe you replied and am looking forward to hearing from my African chocolate money man with nuts (I hope)
Whatup dildo Mr habib ass nurudine?
What kind of name is Habib nurudine? Are you of true African heritage? Is it true what they say about African men…do you really have large adult areas? I have never seen a chocolate mans areas, being the commishioner of the east Muskegon NAMBLA recroutment center, I have only seen unripened boy-fruit. Talking about the fruit of loins is making me hungery if you know what I mean. If mother was asleep I would probably be rubbing one out on the couch right now. I think I can hold it though and will enjoy some warm egg man nog later after we get done with our business.
1: how much money are we talking about hear and I will need more that %40…I will need %50. The Allen Ginsberg memorial what up dildo NAMBLA recruitment and massage center will not be built on hope and change.
2: You speak of next of kin, are they my next of kin and are the white or chocolate? I only ask because me and my mother are white…she has her share of the sweet sweet chocolate man syrup but the man chowder that made me was from a white man. Im sure it doesn’t matter, I just don’t want you to be disappointed when you see my adult area. It is not huge, but looks bigger than most small men that I have seen.
3: I AM WORKING FOR YOU…I like that ring of those words. I will be your little white slave and will do anything you ask. I will not tell the bank or even my mother.
4: I WILL NOT KILL MY MOTHER YET..i am prepared if you ask though. I haven’t told her yet and am hoping to surprise her with the money. Speaking of money, can I get my money before January 23? We are to be kicked out of our trailer home on the 23rd if we cant pay our rent. Mothger isn’t working and my spicy NAMBLA photos are not selling as well as they should (unless you want to buy some). So I NEED THE MONEY BUY THE JANUARY 23.
5: send me the infor mation to apply with your bank, what do you needs from me.
6: YES LETS BE GOOD OF COURAGE
7: WHAT DO YOU NEED FROM ME TO GET THIS MONEY FOR MY WHAT UPDILDO nambla LIBRARY?

Merry Christmas my chocolate man with tender nuts. Do you have a photograph of you that you can use for the NAMBLA membership card. Please send me a photograph!!
It doesn’t have to be below the waste or of your chocolate loin fruit, (that would be nce though)
Things I will need:
1: %50 of the money (to cover you NAMBLA membership)
2: a photograph of you for the membership newsletter
3: How many spicy photographs do you want to buy?
4: The bank address to send the spicy photos and the NAMBLA newsletter
5: all the mony by January 23.

I look forward to a loving tender relations ship with my chocolate African man friend (with nuts)
If you are a Christian, merry Christmas and celebrate the birth of our tender white lord. If you are not a Christian well then you should get back to raping small animals then.

MERY CHRISTMAS
MR. Topher Whatup DildoCrowder.
Vice President and Head Recruiter for the East Muskegon NAMBLA chapter

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Habib .A. Nurudine [mailto:habianudin1@blumail.org]
Sent: Monday, December 27, 2010 5:34 AM
To: Topher Crowder
Subject: Re: I will need your cooperation if you are ready to please this transaction, merry Xmas Mr. Topher

Merry Christmas and New year in advance Mr Topher.

I have head you, by your serious active move this fund should be transferred to you in tow weeks time starting from the day the bank respond to you submitted application as the next of kin.

Gentleman i can only advice you to little bet slow down by your request, you see i still yet have not received your information's; because of this i can't feed you with every details! until i receive your information's that is where i can now bring every necessary details to you so that you know how to follow-up with the bank.

I am sorry my dear partner, for further request you my have to send your information's before any automatic response.

These are your personal information's needed

I repeat if you are interested, kindly forward your personal information’s as follows.-

Full name.-
Address.-
Telephone / Fax number.-
Marital Status.-
Copy of your picture
Profession.-
Age.-
Sex.-
Country.-
Anticipating your response Mr. Topher.

Thanks,
Mr. Habib Nurudine.

____________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder [mailto:tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net]
Sent: Thursday, December 30, 2010 12:50 AM
To: 'Habib .A. Nurudine'
Subject: RE: I will need your cooperation if you are ready to please this transaction, merry Xmas Mr. Topher

Whatup dildo and merry Christmas. I hope you will have avery happy new year.
Hello, mr Habid assnurudine
How did you celebrate the birth of tender white baby jesus? Did you get all that you had wished for? I hope my chocolate man friend with big nuts got everything he wished for. I wish I had been under your tree Christmas morning. Maybe after I get my %50 we could run away together to some warn sunny sandy beach? Wouldn’t that be fun. Would you enjoy having me on a warm sandy beach all to yourself.  Man, I have to stop that talk because I am getting tingly down there and I don’t want to wake mother.
I did as you instructed and have NOT killed mother YET. I will wait until you say so. I fear she may want some of my money and I don’t want to share. I will be happy to pay off the rent on our trailer house but that is it. She can go back to being a telephone entertainer and taking the neighbor men for rides in her bedroom, but I want to be with you on that sandy beach tasting your chocolate loin fruit.
What did you get for Christmas? Mother got me a bag of new sweat soxs, the ones that are smooth and don’t burn my adult areas when I pleasure myself. I also got a new library pass, I don’t know how mother did it. I thought I was banned for life. (They didn’t like me Xeroxing the NAMBLA newsletter there). You still haveint sent me you photograph for the NAMBLA newsletter and your membership card, I will need to have that soon.
OK OK lets get down to buisines before mother wakes up to relieve her self. She ate an entire canned ham and has the winds something fierce. I mean I had to open the windows because it smells so bad and its so cold out. I hope she hasn’t messed herself in bed, I am too frightened to check and I don’t want to wake her. I hope she hasent pooed on my side of the bed, that would be bad.
OK OK business time.
1: Full name: Mr. Topher Whatup Dildo Crowder
2: Full Address: 3162 Boltwood Trailer Number 12 by the water treatment pond
3: Phone number (I DON’T HAVE A FAX): 1-586-770-8536 ask for George
4: Marital Status: I am swinging single and ready for loving buy my new chocolate man friend
5: Copy of you picture: I have included one from the NAMBLA newsletter
6: Profesion: I am Vice President of the east Muskegon NAMBLA recruitement and massage center
6: Age: I am a boyish 48 years old (I hope you like older menz)
7: Sex: ALL MAN
8: country: united states of America and home to the tender president obama (did you know his father?)

NOW I WILL NEED SOME THINGS FROM YOU
1: YOUR PHOTOGRAPH FOR THE NAMBLA NEWS LETTER
2: YOUR ADDRESS SO I CAN MAIL YOU YOUR NAMBLA MEMBERSHIP CARD.

THANK YOU and tender kisses to me chocolate man friend.
Here is wishing you a happy new year and whatup dildo.
Mr Topher whatup dildo crowder
Vice president of the east Muskegon NAMBLA recruitment and massage center

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Habib .A. Nurudine [mailto:habianudin1@blumail.org]
Sent: Thursday, December 30, 2010 4:35 AM
To: Topher Crowder
Subject: SEE ATTACH

Good day Topher.

I received your mail. this is very interesting, now convinced to be of trust with you.

SEE ATTACHED fillin the text of application and submit it to the bank by using the below E-mail address to contact the bank!

Note; from the moment you contact the bank whatever mail you receive as return from the bank forward to me so that i can advice you of how you are to respond in other for you not to make mistakes, also if you receive any invitation mail or litter similar to my please do not respond!!!! because the bank is going to put you on test to know if you were been told of this inheritance.
Thanks,
Mr. Habib Ali Nurudine.


Below is the bank contact.-

adbfrd_net@yahoo.fr

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder [mailto:tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net]
Sent: Tuesday, January 04, 2011 3:05 PM
To: 'Habib .A. Nurudine'
Cc: 'adbfrd_net@yahoo.fr'
Subject: RE: SEE ATTACH

Hello and whatup dildo
Heloo and merry new year my chocolate man friend with huge salty nuts that probably taste like candy from sweet baby jesus.
OK OK, I got the attached letter. And I am trying my best to fill out all the needed info in a chance to get all my money before January 23 and mother and I are kicked out of our trailer.
But I have ran into a problem. I was getting some photos developed at our local market (spicy photos) and the girl printing my photos didn’t like wat I was doing (she is not a big art fan). She called the police and I had to spend my new years weekend in jail. Mother had to make a few appointments with some of the men at the trailer park to gain the money to get me out of jail. Mother says her jaw will be sore for weeks and I need to move out unless I get a job or find some money to pay her back. So I had to sell some of my NAMBLA magazine collection and sell my computer printer to pay some of her money back.  Man, I hope this money you have promised me gets here soon…she is being mean to me. She wont let me sleep in our bed and is making me give her 3 sponge baths EVER DAY!!! You give me the word and I will KILL HER!!!! Please tell me it is all right to kill her!!
MR. HABIB I want to run away with you and away from all my toubles. Tell me you love me and want to be with me. I want to have tender man sex with you on a warm beach or in a sleeping bag. Tell me you want me inside of you.
I will do my best to fill out all the paperwork and send it as soon as possib;le. Please tell me you love me.
I love you and want to taste your loin fruit.
Happy new year my chocolate man love
Mr. Topher Whatup Dildo Crowder
Assistant vice president of the east Muskegon NAMBLA chapter

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Habib .A. Nurudine [mailto:habianudin1@blumail.org]
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2011 5:08 AM
To: Topher Crowder
Subject: Re: SEE ATTACH

You idiot!!! you email the bank that i employed you to come reach out to the bank as the next of kin

now i am in big trouble right here in my country, i can only say weldone for the idiotic attitude of yours

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder [mailto:tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net]
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2011 8:17 PM
To: 'Habib .A. Nurudine'
Subject: RE: SEE ATTACH

Oh my and whatup dildo?
OH OH OH I AM SO SORRY. PLEASE DO NOT BE MAD AT ME. I was only trying to help. I am so sorry. What can I do to fix the problem. Can I send another letter to the bank saying that it is not about the money? I could say that we are lovers and that we were fightimng. Please I want to help because I really need the money. Mother has made me sell all my NAMBLA magazines and my computer printer and my Atari game. She says I still owe her A LOT of money for getting me out of jail on new years weekend. Please, my chocolate man, let me help and get this money. Don’t leave me alone and cold. I want you inside me.
Please mr. chocolate man with tasty nuts…let me help.
If it means killing my mother I WILL so we can be together. Just say the word I will do ANYTHING.

Also, could you send another bank form to fill out? I lost my copy somewhere in the trailer?  I think mother stole it!!!!!

Please don’t shut me out…
Mr topher whatup dildpo crowder

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder [mailto:tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net]
Sent: Thursday, January 06, 2011 8:25 PM
To: 'adbfrd_net@yahoo.fr'
Cc: 'Habib .A. Nurudine'
Subject: RE: SEE ATTACH

Hell and whatup dildo?

Hello Mr. Bank man.
Mr. Habib Ass Nurudine asked me to contact you in regards to a letter I sent to you in error. I beg you to believe that it was a BIG mistake. You see Mr. Habib and myself have know each other since childhood and we are lovers. He and I love each other and I love him. He is like a brother to me…a loving chocolate brother with salty nuts. Please help us!!! Please work with him and allow him into my heart again. I fear he is mad at me and that I have lost his love. I can not live with out his moist throbbing love.

Please help me and my chocolate lover

Mr. Topher whatup dildo crowder

Got an Email the other day:


From: prisca kipkalya
<priscakipkalya03@gmail.com>
Sent: Sat, July 23, 2011 6:10:26

Subject: I AM INTERESTED IN YOU
Hello My Dearest
     I am writing this mail to you With due
respect trust and humanity, i appeal to you to exercise a little patience and
read through my letter i feel quite safe dealing with you in this important
business having gone through your remarkable profile, honestly i am writing this
email to you with pains, tears and sorrow from my heart, i will really like to
have a good relationship with you and i have a special reason why i decided to
contact you, i decided to contact you due to the urgency of my situation, My
name is Miss Prisca Kipkalya, 24yrs old female and I’m from Kenya in  East
Africa. My father was the former Kenyan road Minister. He and Assistant Minister
of Home Affairs Lorna Laboso had been on board the Cessna 210, which was headed
to Kericho and crashed in a remote area called Kajong'a, in western Kenya. The
plane crashed on the Tuesday 10th, June, 2008.

You can read more about
the crash through the below site:

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/africa/06/10/kenya.crash/index.html
After
the burial of my father, my step-Mother and uncle conspired and sold my father's
property to an Italian Expertrate which the shared the money among themselves
and live nothing for me. One faithful morning, I opened my father's briefcase
and found out the documents which he have deposited huge amount of money in one
bank in Burkina Faso with my name as the next of kin. I travelled to Burkina
Faso to withdraw the money for a better life so that I can take care of myself
and start a new life, on my arrival, the Bank Director whom I met in person told
me that my father's instruction in his will to the bank was that the money would
only be release to me when I present a trustee who will help me and invest the
money overseas. I am in search of an honest and reliable person who will help me
and stand as my trustee so that I will present him to the Bank for transfer of
the money to his/her bank account overseas.

I have chosen to contact you
after my prayers and I believe that you will not betray my trust. But rather
take me as your own sister. Though you may wonder why I am so soon revealing
myself to you without knowing you, well I will say that my mind convinced me
that you may be the true person to help me. Moreover, I will like to disclose
much to you if you can help me to relocate to your country because my
step-Mothers have threatened to assassinate me. The amount is($5.8USD) Million
United State Dollars, and I have confirmed from the bank in Burkina Faso on my
arrival, You will also help me to place the money in a more profitable business
venture in your Country. However, you will help by recommending a nice
University in your country so that I can complete my studies. It is my intention
to compensate you with 30% of the total money for your services and the balance
shall be my capital in your establishment.

As soon as I receive your
positive response showing your interest I will put things into action
immediately. In the light of the above, I shall appreciate an urgent message
indicating your ability and willingness to handle this transaction sincerely.
Awaiting your urgent and positive response. Please do keep this only to your
self for now until the bank will transfer the fund. I beg you not to disclose it
until i come over because I am afraid of my wicked step-mother who has
threatened to kill me and have the money alone ,I thank God Today that am out
from my country (Kenya) but now In (Burkina Faso) where my father deposited
these money with my name as the next of Kin. I have the documents for the
claim.

Thanks
God bless you
Prisca kipkalya
________________________________________________________________________________

From: Topher Crowder
<tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
To: priscakipkalya03@gmail.com
Sent: Mon, July 25, 2011 2:09:52 PM
Subject: Re: I AM INTERESTED IN YOU

Hello and what up dildo
Hello my beutiful dearest woman prisca.
Thank you for writing me, you words may make my entrails tingle like a
christmas tree angel. I was able to read most of your letter before i had to
stop and rub one out, but from what i understand you need the help of a white
american man like myself. I am assuming that you are chocolate flavored because
you are from kenya (do they have white people there?) I WANT TO HELP YOU!!

 ok ok, mother will be waking up soon and she doesnt like it when i use her
computer (i make messes) so i will only ask that you write me back and say what
you need me to do.

Also, could you send photographs of yourself in sheer to waste suntan
pantyhose?

I cant wate to hear from you again my african chocolate little intercourse
machine....oh and i just mad a mess. gotta clean this up before mom wakes
up.
I will talk to you later my sweet sweet cholate dream.

Mr. Topher what up dildo crowder
assisatnt to the vice president, muskegon alan ginsberg massage center and
NAMBA outreavch center
_________________________________________________________________________
From: Prisca kipkalya
<priscakipkalya@gmail.com>
To: tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net
Sent: Mon, July 25, 2011 3:35:37 PM
Subject: I AM FULL OF HAPPY TO RECEIVE YOUR MAIL?

Hello My Dearest, I have just received your email with lot's of excitement, when i sent the
letter to you, my heart has been over occupied with thoughts and fear if my situation will
touch your heart to come for my rescue, i am glad and more than happy now i
saw your mail. How was your day?, Mine is a little bit hot
over here in
Ouagadougou Burkina Faso.

                            *More About
Me*
 Like I told you in my first email, I am Prisca Kipkalya Kones from Nairobi
Kenya in East Africa,  24 yrs old, never married, the only child of
my late Mother. who died at her second child birth after I was born. I could
not recognized her face as I didn’t received motherly care because I  was little when she died but from her picture I saw,
I can describe her a little, also from the brief story my late father told
me about her, I can tell you the life style and how she behaves when she was
alive. I do have international passport and other travelling papers, but my
evil wicked step-mother sized all my traveling papers when she knew that I
was about moving down to Burkina Faso for the money, she confiscatorily hide
away all my traveling papers because she thought she could stop me from
going enable her achieve her evil plan and sit on my money. I am hoping to secure a new
passport after the transfer of my money . I ran away from my
late father home
because of my evil step-mother (Beatrice Kipkalya ), she is a great
politician. Following the death of my father, by-elections at
Bomet Constituency were held on September 25, 2008. The seat was won by
Beatrice
kipkalya, my wicked step-Mother took over my late's political seat , who
doesn’t need my progress and want me death because she wants to sit on
my right. I’m afraid of her. I stopped in my first year in university
in medicine when my father died, I could not
further because I was only after my life. I need to continue my studies once
I come over and meet you. We need to discuss much one in one and I have a
lot to tell you when I join you overthere.
                                    *About Rev. Father
Benjamin/Camp
Authority*
Firstly i am emailing you from the office of the
Reverend Benjamin in
EVANGELICAL LURTHRAN CHURCH OF GOD, I told the Reverend Benjamin about my
communication with you and he permitted me to access my email in his office
computer twice a day, Please you can call me with the office number of the
rev father +226 75 27 97 95 here in the Mission camp and ask of Prisca
Kipkalya  that stays in the female hostel room 12, block C when
you will call me. As a refugee here i don't have any right or privilege to
any thing
be it money or whatever because it is against the law of this country. I
want to go back to my studies because i only attended my first year before
the tragic incident that lead to my being in this situation then
took place. In the Refugee camp hostel where i am  leaving now we are only allowed to go
out only on Mondays and Fridays of the weeks. Its just like one staying in
the prison and i hope by God's grace i will come out here
soon.
                                          *My
feelings*
 Despites the money, I really want someone who will care and
love me, I need someone who will always tell me the truth from his heart, I
need someone who will be my Brother, my best Friend, even though you take me
like your blood
Sister or part of your family I will not mind but as long as we got along
together with real love I will definitely be satisfied. I want you to think
very well and understand in your heart if you really you want to
help me, If yes’ I will live the rest of my live to appreciate it, But if no
I suggest you make it open to me before you will break my heart, Because I
don't want
to under go torture any more. I need a God fearing person that
will not cheat on me when the money has been transferred, i keep on praying
to God
that he should give me a person that is honest and faithful so that he
will be nice and faithful to me when the money is transferred.
                                               *After the transfer*
 After
transfer of this money to your account, you will help me withdraw some
money from the account where the money was transferred, and from it you can
send some money to me to get my traveling documents and air ticket to come
over to meet with you in order to further my studies .You will send a letter
of invitation to me so that they will give me a VISA urgently to travel and
join you over, to enable me continue my education.  It is my intention
to compensate you with 30% of the total money for your services,
please understand my condition and do not abandon me without help. Therefore
my condition here is very bad, to eat is very hard for me but with God
all things will be good just a day.
 I WOULD  LIKE  TO
KNOW MORE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR EXPERINCE IN BUSINESS KNOWING
THAT YOU WILL BE
THE ONE TO INVEST THE MONEY. WE NEED TO KNOW EACH OTHER
BETTER FOR MORE TRUST
AND UNDERSTAND IN BETWEEN US.SECONDLY, I WILL
APPRECIATE IT BETTER ONCE I
RECIEVE THE BELOW INFORMATION OF YOURS . 1.Your
Full
Name.....................?, 2.Your Nationality / home Address
.............?,
3.

Occupation.............?, 4. Your Age..............?, 5. Mobile
phone
number.............  6. Your personal picture
.................


Once i hear from you with the above details of
yours, i will give you my
late father's account details and bank
contact/information to apply to bank
for the transfer. Remember i 'll be
giving you all this information due to
the trust i deposed on
you.

Please Note:  I have only one personal picture attached. For more
Trust, I
will like you to call me with Reverend Father's office telephone
number +226
75 27 97 95 I like someone being  honest, understandable,
truthful and of
vision, truth and hardworking. My favorite language is
English and i speak
it very fluently.

Meanwhile, i will like
you to call me on Rev Father office telephone +226 75
27 97 95  like i said
earlier before now that  i have alot to tell you. Have
a nice day and God
bless you. Please i am waiting for your call.

Awaiting to hear from you
soonest


Yours in love

Prisca Kipkalya
___________________________________________________________________________
From: Topher Crowder
<tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
To: Prisca kipkalya
<priscakipkalya@gmail.com>
Sent: Tue, July 26, 2011 2:02:57
PM
Subject: Re: I AM FULL OF
HAPPY TO RECEIVE YOUR MAIL?

Hello and welcome what up dildo

Hello my african chocolate queen prisca..

Hello and i love your photograph you sent me. Boy you are a dark woman, i
didnt think you would be that dark. And your nose is kind of wide. but thats
cool. i could deal with that. Maybe in your next photo you could not take a
picture of your face, maybe just your lower half wearing sheer towaste
pantyhose. Why didnt you do as i asked and show yourself wearing sheer to waist
pantyhose. my god is it that hard? i mean i am trying to help you and your
backward country with my rich american ways. the least you could do is help me
obtain a happy ending with a handfull of hand lotion and your photo. Next photo
promise you will be wearing pantyhose.

my my, i'm sorry i sound so mad. my mother is not feeling well and she isnt
shareing her checks with me. She gets a check every moth because she has gained
some waight due to a gland issue. her goddam boyfriend is taking all of the
money i would be getting. but oh well, i cant complane, we had 3 new members at
the east muskegion NAMBLA chapter and one of them promised me some money if i
did a job for him. Im supposed to meet him this saturday. pray for me sweet
black prisca my african big nosed queen.

But ok ok, boy you do wright alot.  you tell a good story. but lets gett to
the meet of what i can do to help you my queen.

name: Topher whatupdildo crowder
address: 3162 boltwood east muskegon heights, usa 48125 trailer #3 in the
back by the sewage dump
 AGE: a young boyish 43

occuation: assistant to the director of the alan ginsberg adult library and
east muskegon NAMBLA outreach center

phone : 586-770-8536 ask for mike...he will come get me

attached you will find my picture. i was having a bad hair day but i look
good, damn good. wait till you see my root!

please write back my african queen and remember those pantyhose

i love you

topher whatupdildo crowder


assitant to the director of the alen ginsberg adult library and Muskegon
NAMBLA outreach center
______________________________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________

From: Prisca kipkalya
<priscakipkalya@gmail.com>
To: Topher Crowder
<tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
Sent: Wed, July 27, 2011 3:34:49
AM
Subject: CONTACT THE
BANK


Hello My Dearest,

Thanks a lot for your mail, picture and
information, I have seen your tender zealous heart to help me out from this
country. Like I told you, I have discussed with the bank and they informed me
that my late father placed an instruction in his will which he left a copy to
bank that the money can not be release without a reliable and a God fearing
person ( A Foreign Trustee)   who can not in any way intend to
cheat on me when the money is transfer red. I believe with you the transfer will
be done successfully, all I need from you is to take this transfer serious and
make  time for it.

The bank told me that you need to contact them for the
transfer, so that they will give you the transfer procedure. The bank managing
Director told me that they can only approve you my Trustee when they see that
you are honest, sincere and capable to obey instruction and able to provide any
information requested from you in the course of the transfer. They said that
during the transfer , they will contact your bank in your country to inform them
that such money is coming into your bank account.

Apart the instruction
placed in my late father’s will, I don’t have access of the money due to my
refugee status here in this country, Please my dearest, you have to try very
well and help me out from this prison called Refugee camp, life in this camp is
very hard and full of suffer ness which I’m praying for God’s help. If not the
help of Rev Father Benjamin who allow me to access my mail box and communicate
with you in his office computer twice in a day i would have find it so hard to
contact you. I have no business experience remember that you will be the one to
invest the money as i want to continue my studies once i come over there. Now
the bank is waiting for you to get in contact with them.
Please after reading this mail, make sure you contact the
Bank through this email Address  boainformation@financier.com
Go through the below mail very well and copy it and send it to the bank
for the transfer. Do not forget to get back to me once you contact the bank
today.
CONTACT THE BANK WITH THE BELOW
LETTER

THE DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS  FOREIGN REMITTANCE DEPARTMENT
BANK
OF AFRICA (BOA) OUAGADOUGOU BURKINA-FASO
TEL/(00226 ) 75 79 47 68 ,FAX/(00226) 50 32 02
07
Email 1:      boainformation@financier.com

Contact The Managing Director: Dr. Michel F. Kahn

Director of Foreign Operation Department English Section


I wish to apply as a Trustee to Miss Prisca Kipkalya
Kones the next
of kin to Kipkalya Kones from Kenya , who died
on plane crash in the
year 2008. I am putting claim over his balance of
($5.800, 000, 00
million dollars) from his ACCOUNT NUMBER 0036101101 and
ROUTING NO:
91002211.
Please let me know the legal procedure for transferring
the said fund into my bank account.

Your kind assistance in providing urgent
consideration and reply my application will be appreciated.

THE ACCOUNT INFORMATION ARE AS
FOLLOWS:
Account Holder: Mr Kipkalya Kones
Atif
Account Number: 0036101101
Routing Number: 91002211
Amount:
$5.800.000.00 USD
Next Of Kin: Miss Prisca Kipkalya  Kones
Atif

My Name ……………
_____________________________________________________________________________

From: Topher Crowder  <tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>To: Prisca kipkalya  <priscakipkalya@gmail.com>Sent: Wed, July 27, 2011 11:42:48  PMSubject: Re: CONTACT THE  BANK Hello and whatsupdildo   Hello and welcome my lovely african choclate queen and seman  dumpster.   I printed a copy of that photo you sent me and have been taking care of  myself (twice yesterday). But i do have to tell you that i am angry that you did  not send another photo of yourself. I dont realy care about your face, your nose  is wide and it doesnt do anything for me. I WANT A PHOTO OF YOU WEARING SHEER TO  WASTE PANTYHOSE!!. pLEASE, if you send me this i will help you as much as you  want.   OK, enough about pantyhose. Mother would be angry if she knew i was asking  you to send me a photo of you wearing SHEER TO WASTE PANTYOSE. Mother used to  have quite a collection of pantyhose until she found out what i was using them  for. i would always wash them and return them to her pantyhose drawer, but she  couldnt get over that i had enjoyed myself with them.  but i wont tell  mothet.   Would you like me to contact the bank? Or should i let you handle the bank?  The last time i tried this the bank ended up calling mother and the cat was  killed. I really dont want mother to find out i am helping you. She may ask for  a share of the money. Right now how much money are you oing to send when you get  it?   Tell you what, as soon as i finish here i will send a nice letter to the  bank for you. if mother finds out, i'll deal with her myself.    anyways, the library is closing and they will be kicking me out soon. so  i'll let you go. promise me you will send me a photo of you wearing PANTYHOSE.  not one of your face, to be honest your face looks like it was punched and its  hard for me to finish.   i will send the bank letter tonight. please tell me you love me.   Topher whatupdildo crowder assistant to the manager of the alan ginsberg adult libray and NAMBLA  outreach center
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From: Topher Crowder
<tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
To:
boainformation@financier.com
Sent: Thu, July 28, 2011 12:05:32
AM
Subject: Miss Prisca
Kipkalya


hello and what up dildo...

Hello Mr. African Bank Manager.
My name is Mr. Topher what up dildo Crowder. A couple of days ago a nice
collered girl, Miss Prisca Kipkalya. wrote me asking me for help. We have been
writing back and forth and she has promised me her flower if i help her. Let me
tell you, i bet her flower is smells like bacon and old trout becaue her face
looks like someone mashed it in a vice. anyways. Her bottom half doest seem to
bad and i bet i could really go to town of her. But anyways, she gave me your
email so i could send you my information or something.

Anyways, what do you need me to send you? Will you need a check or money
order? how about PAYPAL?

anyways. write me back as soon as you get this and tell me what i
need.

thank you

______________________________________________________________________
From: Prisca kipkalya
<priscakipkalya@gmail.com>
To: Topher Crowder
<tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
Sent: Thu, July 28, 2011 2:32:37
AM
Subject: i need to see yours
again.

Hello My Dearest,

I do not understand what you mean by pantyhose, mean while i have no scan
photo in my mailfolder now but will send one to you later.
Have you contacted the bank as you promised to email them. let me know as
soon as possible.while waiting for my photo, i need to see yours again.

Thanks
Prisca
mr. topher what updildo crowder
_________________________________________________________________________

From: Topher Crowder
<tophercrowder@sbcglobal.net>
To: Prisca kipkalya
<priscakipkalya@gmail.com>
Sent: Thu, July 28, 2011 1:52:12
PM
Subject: Re: i need to see yours again.
 Hello and whatup dildo..

Hello miss prisca my african pleasure hole
 Yes yes yes i contacted the bank. they havent written me back yet. i told
them about us and what we are planning and how we will celebrate with both hands
and maybe a foot. OK OK...what do you mean you dont know what pantyhose are.
They are fantastic and were created buy our lord and Jesus Christ for the
betterment of men and women.these wonderful inventions allow men who would
normaly be aroused but the touch of a teen aged boy to become rock hard by the
feel of lycra and nylon.
 Pantyhose are worn on your legs. Do they not have them in africa? I have
seen african pantyhose at the partystore "Big Mama" and "brown sugar" brands..of
course those nude types are a dark shade of brown, not the creamy white like
normal women.
 doesnt anyone in africa have a cell phone camera? i mean come on. you guys
must be like living in west virginia.
 I want to help you real bad. I contacted the bank. My mother has not found
out about any of this and you dont know what pantyhose are.
 Come on. You are the first woman who as ever promised her flower to me and
you dont know what pantyhose are. Jesus is playing a cruel joke on my and my
engorged man root. please ask some one. please buy a pair.
 Send me that photo of you and your PANTYHOSE.
 I have attached a photo of the money that i have been saving to help
you.
 I NEED YOU IN PANTYHOSE
 i love you

mr. topher whatu8pdildo crowder
assistant to the directore of the east muskegon NAMBLA outreach center and
adult book store

I think my outdoor painting club is done for the season. Things had been slowing down for the past few weeks and people had begun to skip out on me. This week was the end I think. On Friday I had left phone messages for everyone but I never received any call backs. Regardless, I went down to Mr. Quicks and waited for three hours for people to show up. No one did. Oh well. It was a grey and rainy day, maybe people did not want to paint in the rain.

I found a spot to paint all by myself but did not stay long. My heart was not into painting today. This time of year, my clinical depression takes hold and colors begin to lose their vibrancy. The entire world begins to look like a faded charcoal drawing that even my daily Prozac can't bring to life.

So I drove home and put away my oils for the winter. I don't use oil paint in the house because of my wife's aversion to the smell of turpentine. Winter is a time to curl up in my favorite chair by the fire and contemplate new beginnings.

My depression does do one thing well, it allows me to build grandiose dreams. I begin to think of wild new art projects such as public sculptures made of wood and in the shape of mounted animal heads, map-like drawings on large sheets of paper, and a large series of small framed drawings on paper documenting The Cocoanut Grove Fire in Boston. Of course none of these things will see the light of day because, while I am able to imagine them, I lack the motivation to do any of them. That is what makes depression sad.

Even an afternoon spent at Hooter's lacked the usual sexual excitement and left me flaccid. I mean, I ended up watching a football game for fuck's sake. A sea of large breasted young women with nylon encased legs and all I could think about was the lack of ice in my iced tea and the presidential election. The best I am hoping for is some type of delayed reaction. In about four hours I bet I will be sitting at my computer and a banner ad for American Apparel will pop up and there will be four more weeks of winter, if you get my drift.

Well, I have a half bottle of Maker's Mark that I gotta finish so that I can engrave my next Presidents and Pantyhose bottles. I think this week it will be Mr. Grover Cleveland. Remember, bidding for these prizes start at just a penny and shipping is free.

Post for the week.

I'm drunk, I'm not in Muskegon and I am celebrating my wedding anniversary with my wife. Life is good.

First things first!

I know I have a few loyal followers and that my lack of updates is a slap in the face to them. I am very sorry. It's just that the fall season is when my clinical depression sets in and everything looks grey and tastes like pennies.

The end of summer went out in a triumphant yelp and I turned a new page in the gilded book of my life as an artist. When I last left you, I spoke of entering the world of Art Fairs as a way to pay my bills. I am very glad I did as it has opened my eyes to wonderful opportunities.

During one of my guided landscape excursions, I brought up my idea of taking part in Muskegon's summer art fair to my fellow painters. I explained to them that my wish was to bring an authentic art experience to an average art fair. Our 'tent' could include a few of our landscapes and maybe a few other 'contemporary' works that some of us may have been working on.

Everyone liked my idea, but Kay would have to decline the invitation. Kay is a little bit of a shut in and doesn't enjoy going out in crowded public places. I told her that I understood.

Susan stated that she loved the idea but would also have to say 'no'. The Muskegon summer art fair takes place during the same weekend as the Unity Fest. The Unity Fest is an outdoor Christian music festival that draws thousands of practicing Christians from all around the mid-west. I was a little disheartened to hear Susan state that she was 'morally opposed' to 'those people' and it makes her sick to even be close to them. I did my best to try and convince Susan that if she participated, she may be able to 'convert' a few Christians with her art. It was an uphill battle that I lost.

JESUS ROCKS!!!

Bob, on the other hand became giddy at the idea of taking part. He stated that while his landscapes were becoming better, he had a few new things that he had been working out that may fit the bill as 'new experiences' for the viewing public. I was impressed with his excitement but a little worried that he wouldn't share these new things with me, he demanded that they will remain a secret until the day of the art fair. I agreed and did not push him to share.

While we continued to paint our landscapes, Bob and I discussed the financials of  renting a spot in the fair and acquiring a proper tent for our display. We both agreed that we would split the expenses evenly and we could iron out the rest of the details over lunch at Mr. Quick's this afternoon. I love it when a plan comes together over milkshakes and burgers.

We soon finished painting and I drove us all back to Mr. Quick. Waiting in the parking lot for Kay was her son Wayne. I had not thought Wayne would be interested in taking part in my little art fair endeavor and while I was unloading everyone's art supplies, Bob filled him in on what we were planning. "Hey, that's cool! I got some shit I would like to get rid of" he burped. I told him that his items should be 'art related' and it would cost him money to take part. I was hoping that the 'cost money' part would scare him away, but before he even flinched, his mother Kay announced that she would be happy to pay all of his share. God Damn It.

Well, at least there would be three of us taking part. A few days later, Bob, Wayne and I all met at the Subway on Harvey street to plan everything out. Bob stated that he would provide everything needed for his art surprise and Wayne let us know that he could bring a few card tables for what he was going to sell. I would provide a proper art fair tent that I was renting from a rental supply company. I had gotten a pretty good deal on the tent because it was an old canvas tent and not one of the newer snow white plastic tarp tents. I also was bringing a few eight foot by four foot free standing 'walls' to hang my work on and that they were more than welcome to share some space on the panels I was buildingt. As we chatted over our foot-long subs, it felt as if a bond was growing between the three of us even though we all seemed so different. It was a warm feeling and I felt as if it was good sign.

The weekend of the art fair quickly came upon us as we packed my van with all of our supplies. Bob and Wayne both said that their offerings would fit in their own cars and they would meet me there on Friday morning. Our lot number was 136, a good number if ever there was one.

I was the first to arrive and I was sober. I denied myself any liquor for almost three days so I would be as bright as possible. It sucked to be awake that early and be sober, but I was able to get alot done in a very short time. I was able to set up the tent and a few of my walls before Wayne and Bob arrived with their quarry. The canvas tent I had rented had a slight odor of mildew and looked a little more ragged than the tents neighboring me. But, was all about the art. It was not about some dandy white tent. The art must rule the day!

Bob arrived in a little while and he looked smashing. He was wearing a vintage tan suit and one of those classic thin black leather ties from the 80's. I was very surprised that a shorter man of his girth could pull that look together, but somehow he did. I greeted him at his car and helped him unload his wares. Everything was packed neatly into several plastic tubs. Before I could sneak a peak, he sharply reminded me that it must remain a secret until it is all installed. Laughingly, I agreed to follow his orders.

From one of the plastic tubs, Bob removed a number of midnight black shower curtains and began to install them in the far back corner of the tent. He worked with a razor sharp singularity and I did not disturb him as I began to install my own work.

I had just hung my second work went Wayne popped his grizzled head under the tent,  "Hey dudes, what's up?". He had a large Radio Flyer red wagon in tow with a number of stacked well aged cardboard boxes. "Can you watch my shit? I gotta go get my tables", he added. I said yes and he shuffled off. One of his boxes was half open and I took it upon myself to help it open up a little further. Within I saw a collection of NASCAR paraphernalia that had to be over twenty years old. I had once built an impressive toy collection and knew that the most important thing about collectible toys is that the boxes must be kept in pristine condition. From what I could see, Wayne's collection was far from being mint. The boxes looked as if they had spent the better half of the 90's packed under the stairs of a very wet basement at his mother's house.
Well, I kind of expected this small set back but was determined to not allow Wayne's dusty crap to ruin my day. Art would rule the day, REAL ART!

Bob never left the confines of his fortress of blackened shower curtains in the far corner of the tent while Wayne set up his two card tables of NASCAR collectibles and I hung a selection of my shoe paintings, two framed landscapes and organized two small pedestals. The pedestals would have upon them five of my newest creations, a limited series of empty liquor bottles that were engraved with images of past American Presidents and beautiful women wearing pantyhose. The bottles were going to be my money makers as the paintings were probably out of reach, financially, for your average art fair attendees. The paintings may have been priced out reach, but they were more for ambiance and acted like the gasoline for my hard driving REAL ART FAIR EXPERIENCE!

At about noon, I was finished. My work was hung and I thought it might be prudent to check behind the black curtains to see how Bob was doing. I had not even pulled them an inch apart when Bob poked his head out and demanded that I would be the first to see everything if I would stop trying to peak and give him about thirty more minutes. I apologized for interrupting his work and backed up and away. As I turned around I saw a small group of men standing around Wayne's table of withered treasures. Then I saw one of the men pick up a Jeff Gordon figurine and hand Wayne thirty dollars. I fully expected Wayne to return a handfull of bills as change but no change was given back. Wayne had made the first sale of the day. He had sold a Jeff Gordon NASCAR Christmas figurine for thirty American dollars. Well good for him.

I told Wayne that I was going to get a lemonade and to mind the tent for a little bit. He gave me a thumbs up and turned to tend to the small group of potential customers standing around his table. It was fun to be out among the public and I was not impressed by my tented competition. There was quite a collection of yarn and feather "Native American Dream Catchers" and two gentlemen had both set up competing tents selling homemade wooden toys. Children where already hungrily eyeing the rubber band guns on display under their tents. There were also quite a few 'photographers' who thought that their Photoshopped and inkjet printed pictures were going to make them millions. The only money to made off of their crap will be made by Hewlett Packard via hundreds of gallons of ink used to print such drivel. If I learned anything while getting my Master's Of Fine Art Degree it was that photography is not art. But, I will leave that fight for another day.

I found the lemonade stand and got in line. It was the kind of lemonade they made by tossing in a crap load of cut up lemons along with two pounds of sugar and mixed it into a glass of iced water. Life was good.

When life gives you lemons....

An hour had to have passed and I was sure Bob was finished with his installation back at the tent. So, I began to make my way back. The crowds were starting to grow and I saw quite a few Jesus t-shirts among the herd. The Unity Fest crowds were finding the art fair.

Wayne was sitting on a folding lawn chair behind his two tables. I noticed that there were a few empty spots when he announced "Looks like I got beer money!". Well good for him. My business was with Bob. I noticed Bob had set up a small lock box with a slot in the top and had posted a sign that stated "Entry $5, Adults ONLY!".  I stood outside his black curtains, "Bob? Are you done?" I asked.

"Topher? Come in, it's all done" he returned.

I carefully parted the black curtains and entered Bob's domain. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but from what I could see, Bob had created a very unique collection of art. The blackness was cut by an overhead black light that made Bob's false tooth glow white and his glassy eyes turn a weird shade of baby blue.

"How do you like it?" he asked.

Hanging upon the four black walls was a collection of nicely framed black and white photographs. They all glowed in a strange way under the black florescent light. From what I could tell, the photographs looked like pictures of male body parts. Hairy male body parts. Rotund, hairy, male body parts. Bob had really created something that was, in it's own way, very beautiful.

Every photograph was different and after looking at quite a number of them, I raised my eyes to Bob's. In the small black space I could see a small tear rolling down his cheek. "Thank You", he said. I tried to ask why, but Bob interrupted me.

"The landscape painting has opened up my life in a wonderful way. I had spent my adult life in a closet and now I am free. These photographs are my artistic out-coming. These are for you", Bob sobbed.

It felt as if I was standing in a large bucket of ice water. My heart was beating so hard that I could feel every heartbeat from behind my eyes. Then it happened.

Bob put his arms around my waist and placed a dry kiss upon my lips. He was shaking underneath his vintage tan suit. His kiss was salted by his own tears and lasted for what felt like an eternity, but I did not 'kiss back'.

Every awkward sexual experience from my life flashed before my eyes. I relived every forgotten moment, from my prom night premature ejaculation to getting locked out of my own car naked while my date called her father.

Bob then released his embrace and took three steps back. His upper lip looked like a heavily tinseled Christmas tree from all the snot that was flowing from his nostrils. He sniffed and the moment had passed.

"Bob, you know I'm not gay. Right?" I asked.

Bob stood erect, "OH.....yea. I know. Neither am I. I was saying thanks....DUDE".

Without missing a beat, Bob turned and described the tale behind every one of his naked self portraits. I didn't hear a single word and thought that a shower and an an iced glass of Makers Mark would really hit the spot.

"Hey Topher, Some guy wants to know about your shoes.", Wayne announced from outside the blackened chamber of photographs. Wayne had become my savior.

The smell of decades old mildew from the canvas tent and the bright light of the mid day sun was a very welcome comfort. Standing in front of one of my shoe paintings was a elderly man. He asked a few questions regarding my paintings and I did my best to answer him. But, it would take a few hours and two more lemonades for me regain my composure.

All in all, the weekend had mixed results. Wayne made over $300 and sold almost all of his NASCAR collectibles. Bob didn't sell any of his photographs, but he did make over $60 charging people to see them behind the black curtains. Most of that money was from Wayne, who had become quite enamored over Bob's creations and enjoyed multiple visits.

I sold two of my engraved liquor bottles. Wayne bought both of them

After that first day of the art fair, Bob and I never discussed what had happened between us. None of us broke even that weekend, but we all promised that next year we would be happy to do it all over. I told my friends that I thought it might be fun to do the Grand Rapids Art Prize and they agreed. Hell, Wayne even thought we could win first place.

So if you visit a summer art fair next summer, look for our tent and buy some art. Bob, Wayne and I would be happy to sell you some for a fair price.

As an artist, the most frequent question asked of me is "So do you do art fairs?". Up until this summer I had always avoided what I believed to be the lowest form of art; the summer art fair.

I know I probably sound like a snob, an art snob. But, there is an unwritten code among artists that once you delve into the gutter of the summer art fair, there is no return. You are stained for life with the fecal smell of pandering to the lowest of the low.

Ok, it may not be a 'real' code and there really is no smell of poo. But in the art circles I frequent, there are certain categories that art may reside and these categories rarely intersect.

At the highest echelon of public display of art resides the 'By Appointment Only' for profit gallery. These galleries are the pick of litter and cater to the wealthiest of the wealthy. They are an artist's wet dream and well above my stage of art expertise. Unfortunately at my age, I doubt I will ever see any of my artwork displayed in a gallery that is only open by appointment only. Nope, keep dreaming fucktard.

Slightly below the 'By Appointment Only' galleries are the 'Open During The Weekend Only' galleries. These galleries are for profit and only open during the weekend because they MAKE SO MUCH FUCKING MONEY!! I know, it's crazy that an art gallery could make so much money that they would not need to stay open during normal business hours. But that's how they roll. Now, I have been in shows in galleries that were only open on the weekend. But, they were different. The galleries that I have shown in that only open during the weekend, were only open during the weekend because they were going out of business and had to make pizzas during the rest of the week. They are two different things and as before, I doubt I will ever see my work displayed in a (very profitable) gallery that is open only during the weekend. It won't happen.

Lower down the ladder are regular 'for profit' galleries. These places are open  during normal business hours  Wednesday though Sunday. These places bust ass to make a dollar and are probably as high as I will ever go when it comes to displaying my art. I have had a number of shows in these types of institutions and I am very grateful for every minute my work was on their walls.

But, these shows are few and far between and will never pay daddy's rent.

From here, we delve into the 'Non Profit' arena.

Non-profit galleries are a very wide ranging group of categories. The highest of these are run by city art commissions and promote the idea of bring art to the masses. These tax exempt venues serve a very noble cause and I have been honored to have been asked to take part in a few of their showings. In one such show, I made a huge sale of two of my best pieces and when asked, I always say "YES, I WOULD BE HAPPY TO TAKE PART".

Dropping down a notch are the tax exempt galleries that work very hard to bring art to regional urban centers. Run by Board Members and high profile donors, these galleries play a valuable part in bringing an affordable art experience to the great unwashed masses while at the same time bringing a small amount of much needed cash to a few unwashed local artists. These venues have been the most profitable for me and where I have had the most public showings of my work. Most every show I have been asked to take part of in these types of venues has been a fantastic experience. Almost each show has been a collection of great artists and great works. Ok, I'm brown nosing it a little. Ok, alot. Fuck you, I need the money and if I burn the bridges this low, I may never get any higher. So, if brown nosing gets me shows, then I will wear a badge of shit for my entire life.

A few more rungs down the art ladder is the tax exempt, non profit, some dude has a dream gallery. These are the lowest of the legitimate galleries. Usually in an abandoned urban space or in some city owned building bought at auction and usually without heat, insurance, or full time staff. These venues offer little in the way of sales or marketing. Never expect a sale at one of these galleries and if you do get a sale, many do not 'do the whole bank thing' and may only offer cash or postal money order as way of compensation for sold art. But, rule of thumb, don't expect to sell work here. Many of my first shows were at places like these. I have fond memories of artwork hung in cold poorly lit rooms and miss-spelled labels. Good times.

Slightly below the realm of 'some dude running an art gallery in the basement of an abandoned church', we have that local bar or restaurant that believes that they could be a serious gallery too. If they didn't serve food and booze. These places are the true wild west of public art venues. Art becomes secondary to the Reuben on rye with fries instead of chips. Personally, I have been proud to have always drawn the line in the sand at this spot when it came to displaying my work publicly. It's not bad, it's just different. Fried food and my art do not mix. 'nuff said.

Wait, somewhere just above the dude who runs a restaurant that has art on it's walls is the MFA studio show. Public confession, I have taken part in one of these things. A Mongolian Cluster Fuck has better planning than the single MFA studio show I took part of and it is not my fondest memory of grad school. The minute I was asked by a fellow student, "Could you move your work? It's making mine look too orange", I knew I was truly in hell. Look, I still have problems speaking of it today without losing control of my faculties. The entire night was not ranked among my proudest moments and let us leave it at that and move on.

Well below the art gallery wanna-be restaurants and the MFA studio shows are the Summer Art Fairs. I feel bad about ranking them here because the average art fair artist busts ass to make every buck. I just wish they would bust ass to make every work of art. That being said, this summer I came to the conclusion that dish washing at Hooter's, part time teaching at my local community college and selling my shrinking toy collection on E-bay was not going to pay my rent. I needed more money. What if I could bring a real art experience to your average summer art fair? What if I could do all that AND make a huge amount of fucking money? Well, this is the summer I tried make some real scratch.

When I started this little blog thing, I promised that I would never speak of my children. My wife and I have raised our children outside of the glaring spotlight of my art career and would never willingly submit them to its burning heat.

The anniversary of our marriage is coming up soon. My wife reminded me of this today as we were heading home, walking up a steep hill after enjoying a well earned afternoon of liquor at dog beach. With our 14 year old dog's leash in one hand and about 4 pounds of dog shit wrapped in a plastic Wal-Mart bag in the other, I asked "What day is that? September 13th?". She remained silent.

For about a third of a second, I thought that I was gonna catch hell for not remembering our wedding date. "September 18th?" I blurted out. She still remained silent.

"September 28th?", I asked. She remained silent and I knew the jig was up. She had no fucking idea when we were married. I had no idea either but that was not the point. "You don't know when we were married, do you?", I asked her.

"Well, it was at the end of September I think", she said.

Our wedding day is like my wedding ring. Lost in the sands of time. Yep, I have no fucking idea where I put my wedding ring. I used to leave it in the empty ashtray of my Chevy Caprice, but I haven't driven that car since 1999. I looked a couple of years ago and the ashtray is empty.

Oh well, I don't hate my wife for not remembering when our wedding anniversary is. Nope, not at all. Because it really doesn't matter, every night is still like our wedding night. She is usually found naked and throwing up in the bathroom while I still can't seem to maintain an erection. It's all good.