Arkansas Pooh Bear

Thursday, January 20, 2005

The scammers strike again!

jemmylogan: hello
jemmylogan: Female here
jemmylogan: asl
BUZZ!!!
arkansas_pooh_bear : 36, male, arkansas
jemmylogan: 29 F west africa
BUZZ!!!
arkansas_pooh_bear : ok.
arkansas_pooh_bear : what use are you?
jemmylogan: what did you do for living
arkansas_pooh_bear : i'm a technomage
jemmylogan: nice
jemmylogan: that is my
jemmylogan: accountancy
arkansas_pooh_bear : so, what do you accountancy?
arkansas_pooh_bear : can we just skip this and get straight to the sex?
arkansas_pooh_bear : and the part where you want me to give you my bank account number?
jemmylogan: what they do accounting
arkansas_pooh_bear : because I don't have time to waste here... I've got crimes to commit
jemmylogan: wow
arkansas_pooh_bear : first I have to get real drunk and run over some children walking home from school with my car (and school gets out soon and I've not even begun to drink yet)
arkansas_pooh_bear : then I have to gun down the entire population of a wal-mart
jemmylogan: what did you mean by that
arkansas_pooh_bear : that I have to get my rifle loaded, drive to wal-mart and kill everyone in it
jemmylogan: ok
arkansas_pooh_bear : and bullets aren't cheap anymore.
jemmylogan: you funny
jemmylogan: you marry
arkansas_pooh_bear : this and my gay skinhead nazi lover is expecing deep fat fried human baby for dinner tonight. I've still not stolen one of those from the day care here at work yet
arkansas_pooh_bear : they are a mess to gut and clean
jemmylogan: ok
jemmylogan: you marry
jemmylogan: you have g/f
arkansas_pooh_bear : what? can't you read? I'm gay! I have a gay skinhead nazi for a lover. He's very tall, very big, and is highly abusive
arkansas_pooh_bear : but I love him once he puts the collar and leash on me
jemmylogan: wow
jemmylogan: you are a gay
jemmylogan: you have money then
arkansas_pooh_bear : nope... very poor. I give all my money to hookers
arkansas_pooh_bear : they need good shoes
jemmylogan: ok
jemmylogan: nice to here
jemmylogan: taht
jemmylogan: can you made so shoe for me
jemmylogan: an i will to come to USA
jemmylogan: but capital is that best
arkansas_pooh_bear : would you like for me to send you some shoes? What, are you going to walk to the USA?
arkansas_pooh_bear : I have to get my fat happy asshole on a bicycle with no seat and ride home now. Nice talking to you.
jemmylogan: i realy want to come
jemmylogan: bot my friend gave me cheque

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

BWAHHH HA HA HA HA

I AM 84% EVIL GENIUS!
84% EVIL GENIUS
I am pure evil. I lie awake at night devising schemes of world domination, and I will not rest until all living souls bend to my will.

Sunday, January 09, 2005

Letting Physics Do My Dirty Work.

The world is full of idiots. So much so that I have to count some of them among my friends. Sometimes I think that this blog should be re-titled. Give me some feedback; Here are a few to get you started "Tales from the Club", "Ravings of a Drunken Mad Man", "Hemmingway was a Wimp!"

Yet again, the story I weave for you today is set in the club. At least this one is set in the recent past (2003). My first houseboy in Little Rock (Houseboy 1.0) was a cute little thing. He was worthless, but cute. He never did end up having gainful employment for any length of time while living with me. He was always whining about how he couldn't find a boyfriend. I managed to tune that out.

One day, out at the bar, he meets a cute little cub named Ryan. They seem to hit it off pretty well for a couple of weeks, but then HB1.0 falls in love. The boy just picked the wrong ones to do that with. He ended up getting his heart broken.

Fast forward a few weeks and we're out at the club one night. I'm just chilling. It's crowded, there's a show, and I'm hanging out with my friend Liz. Houseboy is with me and is chatting up some guys. After a while Ryan comes in with his new fuckbuddy. Jason, ick. Same Jason from the "Mr. Strange Butt" story.

You have to realize that quite a period of time has passed between these two events.

Anyway, Jason is pretty much an annoying ass to everyone around. All he wants to do is get stoned, high, drunk, out of control, and annoying. I figure that anyone that screams "Anybody got any Coke? I wanna get high!" loud enough in the bar so that you can hear it in the lobby ought to be shot on sight.

He and Ryan end up comming over to say hi, and I'm cordial. No sooner than this conversation should be over, Jason starts in with "Ryan is the best Fuck I've ever had... We come at the same time."

Houseboy is just livid and makes his way out of the bar into the lobby. I'm trying to ignore all this and just have a beer. But he won't shut up.

I have to go to the mens room. Now it's a customary that when you leave the bar to go to the mens room, your chair will still be there when you get back.

I come back and Jason is perched on my chair.

I politely ask him to move.

He launches into this slow drawl with a sweeping motion of his hand that there are plenty of other seats.

I ask him again, "Please move, you're in on my stool."

Again he tells me to find another one.

I lean into him, and as I do, I reach down and take firm grip on the leg of the barstool. Once again, I tell him, "This is my chair. Move. Now."

He starts to make another smartass comment, but that's as far as he gets as I surgically remove the barstool from under his ass.

It was interesting how he seemed to rise up some distance before falling back to the floor. Before he was able to recover, I managed to have the seat back, have my beer refilled, and was taking a drag on my cigarette before security came to haul him away.

It's good to be the King, and if at all possible let physics be your friend.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

A new Quiz

http://www.quizyourfriends.com/yourquiz_IM.php?quizname=050104180933-436853

http://www.quizyourfriends.com/scoreboard.php?quizname=050104180933-436853


Monday, January 03, 2005

Economic Terrorism

Some days, it just doesn't pay. I'm trying to get over a period of soul crushing depression and have not felt like writing for quite some time. But now it seems like the process might help me start feeling better. I've been spending quite a bit of time organizing a spreadsheet of my daily activities... excercise, diet, moon phase, biorhythms... any voodoo that I can think of to help explain why I'm always in such a foul mood.

But anyway, that's not what I'm here to scream about today.

Back in early November of 2004, I was helping a friend out at his job. He manages seasonal displays at several Home Depot stores in Arkansas. His regular help had spazed out on him, but that's another very long story that I'm not at the center of. It was manual grunt labor, but not having anything else to do and having bills to pay... I was willing to help out.

Easily enough, we head down to El Dorado and deal with the merchandise. It was some pretty heavy stuff, but we managed to get it all done and were back in Little Rock by 1am.

About a week later, my check arrives in the mail. And this is where things begin to seriously break down. I'm serious... for you Star Trek fans there was some sort of rip in the Space/Time continuum.

I was running short on cash, and was planning on meeting friends for happy hour at one of our local hangouts. Since I was on my bike getting some excercise that day, I decided to head to the Bank of America downtown main branch. My regular bank is an addional 6 blocks away from where I was going and since the check was drafted against the Illinois branch of BoA, this seemed like a logical thing. So I chained up my Schwinn and went inside.

I'm in line at the bank and there are several people there. I go to the first available teller droid, endorse the check, hand over my ID, put my thumbprint on the check, and am slightly annoyed when they ask for another form of ID. I dig through my wallet and find my Social Security card. The teller in the next line over happens to be the sister of a friend of mine. I wasn't aware that she had gone to work there, so I start up a quick conversation with her.

The inept teller droid trying to cash my payroll check, in the amount of one hundred dollars and no cents, mind you, can't seem to get the system to pull up the account. Next, the branch VP is called over..... I'm annoyed at this point. They ask some personal questions that are no business of their's. I'm really annoyed. The branch VP asks me to step over to his desk while they try to sort this out.

I'm sitting there..... he's making phone calls..... I'm annoyed.....

He finally tells me that the check is a forgery and that the police are on the way. I'm maintaining a calm, yet annoyed exterior; but on the inside I'm about to come unglued.

The police arrive and question me and make the comment "It's amazing what you can do with a computer these days." This is just about to push me over the edge. I'm dressed pretty sloppy - shorts, t-shirt, ball cap. I've been biking so I'm sweaty, and all I want to do is cash this puny $100 check so I can go buy a beer or two with friends. But at this point I'm beginning to suspect that somehow or another that I'm not going to cash this check today.

I ask the police "What are you going to do now? Arrest me?" and they reply "Yes. That's what happens to people who commit forgery and theft by deception." My astonished reply was "Why?!? I'm the VICTIM here!"

But noooooo.... I end up in handcuffs. In the lobby. Full of people. The next question is "How did you get here today, sir?" I answer that my bike is chained up outside... I half expect them to impound it. I'm shoved in the back of a police cruiser, hauled across town, photographed, fingerprinted and detained for several hours in an interview room.

Repeatedly asked the same questions, and finally blurt out "I still have the check stub and envelope for christ's sake. It came in the mail as compensation for work that I did! If you don't have anything better to ask me either put me in jail or let me go damnit!" They tell me that if they can have the envelope and the stub they will let me go. Fortunately I know exactly where they are at my house. I turn over the stub and the envelope and and finally I am on my way.

Mad as hell, but at least I'm away from the police. I call Thomas and have him pick me up and take me to my bike. As I'm riding back to the bar for happy hour, I begin to wonder at what point this became so absurd.

Think about it for a second.

I'm a smart person. I understand check technology because I've had to write several applications that produce checks. Including account numbers and MICR ink and the whole bit. If I wanted to forge a check, it wouldn't be discovered by a lowly teller, or that idiot of a branch VP for that matter. And if I were to do it, I certainly wouldn't do it for a mere hundred bucks.

Futhermore, would I hand over my valid and correct ID with my current address on it? And hand over my Social Security card? And put my thumbprint on the check?

But I guess the part of this criminal master plan that just moves the story from the mildy absurd and somewhat strange to the realm of the incredibly surreal is the fact that I would have to use my bike as a getaway vehicle.

After a couple of days, this all finally gets cleared up at the police department and I go pick up the check. They warn me that I shouldn't try to cash it at BoA and that I should send it through my regular bank. BULLSHIT is what I say. I head straight from the PD to the bank and present the check. This is all starting over again, except this new teller is a little smarter than the first one.

I ask if the check went right through. He replies with "No, of course not. Our system here and the BoA in Illinois are not on the same system"

I hold my composure.

I'm not sure how.

It's a testament to my force of will.

I take my money and head to the bar.

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

The damned scammers

The Scammers are pissing me off.... I've set my filters on my email so I rarely see the messages anymore, but now they are attacking people on Yahoo Instant Messenger. Here was a conversation that I had early this morning.


nwa_lisa: hey u are cool
nwa_lisa: can we do a lil busnies?
nwa_lisa: u there?
arkansas_pooh_bear : no, I'm not cool, we cannot do business and I'm not here
nwa_lisa: lol
nwa_lisa: what do think?
arkansas_pooh_bear : I try not to think
nwa_lisa: anyway check out my profile
nwa_lisa: am looking for handsome guy like u
arkansas_pooh_bear : I'm a gay skinhead nazi
nwa_lisa: u are very pertty
arkansas_pooh_bear : who eats children
nwa_lisa: yeah i can see
nwa_lisa: am lisa a lawyer
arkansas_pooh_bear : I'm hannibal, the cannibal
nwa_lisa: i has been looking for a real and handsome guy like u
arkansas_pooh_bear : why, you have some children that need to be eaten?
nwa_lisa: to go in a very sexy and real deal
nwa_lisa: with
nwa_lisa: so what do u think?
nwa_lisa: :)
nwa_lisa: thats cool and not funny
nwa_lisa: i have a deal and u will be paid $2.5 million
arkansas_pooh_bear : are you having trouble constructing sentences? domo oregoto misto roboto?
nwa_lisa: what are talking about
arkansas_pooh_bear : it's time to make breakfast, gotta go hunting. thank god I live next door to the deaf and blind school
arkansas_pooh_bear : they are easier to trap... I don't have to worry about them seeing me comming
arkansas_pooh_bear : do you know any transvestite lesbians? I hear that they are great on the grill
arkansas_pooh_bear : damn... I'm starved... I've gotta get me one of those new George Foreman baby grills. I hear they are the best for cooking small children

Thursday, September 02, 2004

Maybe if some people can answer some of these questions it will cheer me up.

Quiz
http://www.quizyourfriends.com/yourquiz_IM.php?quizname=040902222038-Arkansas_Pooh_Bear

Scorecard
http://www.quizyourfriends.com/scoreboard.php?quizname=040902222038-Arkansas_Pooh_Bear