Rod Miller: My imaginary rich friends are trying to steal my identity
By Rod Miller, columnist
One of my favorite morning rituals is sipping my coffee while I read my spam. Invariably, there are two or three tempting offers from people I don’t know in Burkina Faso or the Ivory Coast who want to make me a very rich man.
At the time, it was the former Nigerian Oil Minister who wanted to enlist me to smuggle millions of petrodollars out of his country. For my help, I would get a tasty share of the loot, and all he needed was my banking information to keep the wheels rolling.
This guy died or found another friend, because I don’t hear from him anymore. But he’s been deftly replaced by dozens of other enterprising people who must have watched him rake in money from naïve Americans and up his game with creative new ventures.
The emails all start with an intimate greeting like “Dear” or “My precious friend” and go on from there with a gory story about a deceased husband’s blood money that the grieving widow just wants to give to a God fearing person.
Or another cockamamie yarn like that.
But, they tell me, if I want to grow my bank account with their looting, I’m going to have to put some skin in the game. Like giving them all my banking information, my social security number and my passwords. pass. After all, nothing in this life is free, is it?
Some might call it identity theft, I call it opportunity.
That was my coffee-fueled epiphany this morning. Instead of going through all these gyrations to steal my identity, why don’t they just buy it from me?
My imaginary friends must have the money to buy my identity. After all, they’re describing pallets of Benjamins stashed in trunks in Lichtenstein or Cayman Islands that they’re trying to unload.
And this is America, where everything is for sale. are you with me?
If my identity is so valuable to these people, I’m sure we could come to an arm’s length, willing buyer, willing seller arrangement. Like most of you, I’m not ready to sell myself too cheap, but I’m sure I’m willing to DIY.
For the incredibly low price of forty or fifty thousand dollars, any desperate person could buy a lightly worn Wyoming ID. My character is debt free, with a clean driving record and no law enforcement background.
My identity would be a welcome asset to anyone experiencing financial difficulties offshore. Or it would make a great accessory for someone with a pesky legal problem that doesn’t respect borders.
The operators are ready, so call now! Due to this special offer, I will accept cash, bearer vouchers or vintage Indian motorcycles as payment.
Expect! There is more!!
If you act immediately, I’ll include a good dog, a Copenhagen half-box, and a PBR tallboy.
What are you waiting for? For only fifty thousand dollars, your peace of mind is assured!
You won’t need to write another spam because you’re not you anymore.
I will write my own email and send it to my imaginary friends, offering them this offer. The smarter among them will see the obvious wisdom in this capitalist approach to the sensitive subject of identity theft.
Wish me good luck! I’ll let you know how it goes, but I have a good feeling. The only downside would be that after selling my identity, I won’t be able to write as Rod Miller anymore.
So if you see this column under my new byline, Nicky Chiffon, then you’ll know my plan worked.