Thursday, March 29, 2007
Big Trouble For Moose And Squirrel
My ancesters were from a little town near Kiev and fled the Cossacks like every other Jew from that region, but I don't speak or read a word of Russian. Still, for some reason I'm getting a boatload of Russian spam.
Maybe they know that my last name is really an "Ellis Island Special." Or maybe they know that both my mother and my grandmother always had a gallon of nasty-looking borscht fermenting in the refrigerator. And my grandmother was born in Russia, but we had to practically bribe the rabbi to keep that on the down low at the funeral. She didn't want anyone to know, and made us promise to let her take it to her grave.
So, I hate to tell you, Boris and Natasha, but you're two generations too late. Your cryptic Russian messages don't mean a thing to me, and I can't imagine that your erectile dysfunction drugs are any better than the ones I hear about in English eight million times a day. Now maybe if you offered them in Yiddish. . .
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2 comments:
I've had only two Russian spams both lovely ladies wanting marriage but I really worried about the Polish gentleman with his entire fortune tied up some vague European location and I wished I could have helped him by sending my bank details over there.
LOL Jahteh! Between that offer and all the similar ones I've received from African royalty, we could both quit our day jobs.
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