I'm sorry Mr. Kone

So I got the following mail today (copied here as is),

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Dear friend,

My name is (MR Emmanuel Kone) i am the manager of auditing and accounting department Bank of African, I need your urgent assistance in transferring the sum of ($10.5m us dollars immediately to your acocunt.

upon your reply I will send you full details on how the business will be executed,send me your contact information.

1.Age.........................

(2)Residential adress......................

(3) occupation....................

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Now I'm not a stickler for formalities and I no longer get worked up over missed apostrophes and dropped letters but this! This, my friend, is completely unacceptable. It's unacceptable because while Mr. Emmanuel Kone seems to be making a business proposition to me, it seems that he is taking my business far too lightly. Maybe it's the effect of the yuppie generation with their demand for instant gratification, their short attention spans, and casual weekdays. Maybe it is a precipitate of a culture hopelessly addicted to the quick fixes of easy technology but to think that such an ill prepared mail with such glaring grammatical errors will secure my favors for Mr. Kone is nothing less than preposterous. And it's not just the grammatical errors which I find supremely disturbing. Here are my other objections regarding the mail,

1. I'm not your friend.

2. I'm generally suspicious of people who have round brackets in their name. They remind me of Charlie Brown. Not that Charlie Brown had curly brackets in his name or was suspicious. In fact being suspicious of people who have round brackets in their names and getting reminded of Charlie Brown are mutually exclusive events. But I thought I'll mention this while I'm at it.

3. I doubt if there is a Bank of Africa. I have graver doubts about Bank of African.

4) That your list is inconsistently numbered bothers me.

But more than being just a train wreck of a mail as far as consistency and grammar are concerned, it has deeper philosophical implications. The world as we find ourselves in today is getting increasingly less appreciative of individuals. As our population inches towards the 7 billion mark, every single one of us matters just a little lesser than what he used to. In times of such grave objectification, can we not  expect a slight indulgence even from those whose only source income is our own gullibility? I find it insulting that someone whose only job is to write purple proses, lace our clarity in sugar coated dreams, and appeal to our humanity and greed with rosy visions of dead people with irrational wills is not willing to spend the requisite effort at cooking up a decent story. Mutual respect, while long dead at the hands of the virtuous, has now lost its final haven in the debauched.

I have fond recollections of Burkina Faso where rich men died in plane crashes. How wonderful! Death has the notorious habit of being mainly superficial except when it happens to those who are completely unrelated to us - in which case it often generates sympathy. But in Burkina Faso, death was beautiful and benign. Rich men were getting killed in plane crashes and their money was being left to me. Millions of dollars were sitting at the doors of the Burkina Faso bank, palpitating, waiting impatiently to be transferred to my account if only I replied. I never did of course, mainly because I was not a dumbass but it was nice being pampered like that. That such selfless and inexplicable good could exist in the world was always a hypothetical notion but there was something good about its fake honesty. Mr. Kone, you disappoint me. That you expect me to be a retard and give you my bank account  number is insulting enough. The fact that you expect it all without putting in any effort from your side is just plain wrong.

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p.s. There is actually a Bank of Africa!