Monday, July 30, 2012
So, Mrs. B. gets a call from a plausible American lady wondering about acquiring a small amount of stock she held from where she worked 15 years ago. A second call raises suspicions. And then they tried calling me, hoping that hubby would pursuade the little woman if a large enough number was dangled in front of him.
Could I fetch a pen and paper, the chap identifying himself as John Boston asked. Now in this day and age, that means fire up [text editor of choice] on the laptop currently in use for casual surfing.
The patter moves on to there having been an implausibly large forward stock split. So let's have a look at the historical price -- and feel some regret that we didn't cash out 4 years ago when the stock was worth 20 times what it is today. But importantly, explcitly stated as having no splits. Ask for the dates of the splits, and this is clearly off patter as the bullshit comes out.
Point out that this would be public knowledge, or else the company directors would be getting their collars felt by the filth for trying cute stock manipulation shit like that. Get dates, and there are clearly no steps in the historical price -- so, if as is custom, there had been splits, and the pre-split prices are recorded at the appropriate fraction, that would have meant a peak price of over $1000, which you don't get because it hits the liquidity of your stock.
He then suggests an offer price in the 10-20 times current market rate per share. Now 500-1000 times face value goes so far beyond being too good to be true that it comes out the other side and breaks through into absolutely fucking batshit insane. While he's going into the spiel about having to post an insurance advance on the deal, I'm looking up his outfit.
Unremarkable corporatese web-site, but no links-to on the first page of Google, until we get to a list of previous aliases for the same bunch of boiler-room clowns.
So, I tell him he can eat shit and die, and hang up. Remarkably, he calls straight back, so I have to ask what part of the injunction that he should consume excrement and thereby perish he did not understand. The next time, I pick up, hear his voice and just leave the handset on the table until he gives up, which seems to have gotten the point through.
Unsurprisingly, there seems to be no evidence for the existence of this outfit outside of its web-site, especially not in the Lehman Building where they claim a street address.
So, if you happen to be Col. Gaddhafi's widow with some Swiss accounts to shift, or are selling penis extension supplements, I think you should let the dickless wonders at firstname.lastname@example.org, and domain name registrant email@example.com know, because they are sure to be interested in your business.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Although I can't be bothered with his writings, watching the Mohammedans being unable to get over themselves at the award is a perverse sort of pleasure.
They must know how deeply unpleasant their cult is, to be so touchy about people telling how their mythical prophet has no clothes (in the imperial sense). But then what do you expect for the handbook on how to run a tribal/agrarian Mafia?
Sunday, March 25, 2007
So, the Archibishop of York thinks we should give a full apology for our role in the slave trade, eh? Well, with all the politically correct bullshit flying recently, you'd never guess that we were the ones to GIVE IT THE FUCK UP, first -- you'd think we actually started it.
I'm beginning to regret our part too -- we could have shipped his sorry ass off to the plantations if we hadn't.
Meanwhile -- Benedict!! -- Where are my reparations for the Roman Empire (who I'm sure enslaved some of my ancestors)?
Friday, January 12, 2007
Some raghead has noticed that “that Muslims are about twice as likely to self report poor health and disability as the general population.” and “are predominantly congregated in the inner city slums, have the lowest household income, poorest educational attainment, and highest unemployment and experience more poverty than any other faith community.”.
It couldn't be to do with the fact that they cling to their pre-civic culture run by a manual on how to organize an arab bandit league, now, could it?
Why don't they just fuck off and die, if they're not willing to grow up and sideline their imaginary friend like the general run of other pie-in-the-sky types?
And then they have the gall to whine when asked to use alcohol based hand-cleansers when visiting hospitals, even though their mythical paedophile prophet only forbade getting lit up on date wine. Al-cohol, fuckers, the relatively far more enlightened Mohammedans of the 12th century CE discovered it, don't you know.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Fucking useless pillock John Reid is dummy-spitting because the judges won't bend the law against a bunch of guys who used their initiative to escape the Taliban. You'd think he wanted them to have to be dole-bludgers, rather than actually contribute to the economy.
That's the same sort of economic illiteracy that fuels resentment against immigrants which runs through all our pols. But then they are too used to sucking at the public teat themselves.
I'm a binge drinker, it appears — because I might drink 3 pints in a sitting.
Heck, that's just a fun lunchtime's session, and I've gone on to do real work on afternoons like that. Indeed, I'm binge drinking now, being on my second tinnie of the evening!
Supposedly it might take as much as a year off my life — but like all of these things, you may not actually live any longer, just feel that way.
Honestly, what planet are these people on. Puking in the street, swearing at passers-by or getting into a bit of aggro from the drink, that's binge drinking. Dragging moderate social drinking into the same bracket just robs them of any little credibility they had left, and leaves their Stalinist puritanism naked to the eye.
Friday, June 30, 2006
The local council office is on the business park where I work. Newly built, out of town, thus forcing a lot of employees who used to walk to work to get cars. How green can you get.
Tuesdays, the marketing rep for the consortium (“Please rent some space so it isn't so embarassing that we have only built half the plots and even those buildings are half empty.”) does a “healthy walk”. I go along because it gets me out of the office one lunchtime a week, and there is a small chance there might be some approachable totty.
This week, one of the council women is telling about a publicity film she's been making, about fly-tipping. Synopsis: chap abandons car. Kid breaks in, finds nowt of interest, so starts playing with a lighter. Sets fire to upholstery. Takes pictures on his mobile. Gets overcome by fumes. Moral: it's costs less than a life to pay to get a car broken for scrap.
Notwithstanding the fact that the rampant growth of the Chinese economy now makes a car worth enough that you could sell it, rather than pay for it to be towed; if some pathetic little wankstain uses an abandoned car to autodarwinate, it should be regarded as a mitigating circumstance on the part of the owner against the charge of not recycling responsibly, that he made up for aforesaid wankstain's daddy not having pulled out in time.