Serial jackpots
Serial jackpots
Updated 11:23pm (Mla time) Nov 29, 2004
By Juan Mercado
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the November 30, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.
OVER the last two weeks, I have won the lottery thrice. And that excludes the seven times I hit the jackpot earlier. So, how come I still can't toss Eduardo Cojuangco a "name-your-price" offer for those coco-levy-mancled San Miguel Corp. shares?
My e-mail box is crammed with felicitation letters for striking a gold lode. "Your e-mail address won US$500,000," Luckday International wrote. At today's roller-coaster rates, that's P26.5 million. So, how did I squeeze into the ranks of the chosen few?
Over 300,000 e-mail addresses were churned through a computer ballot system, writes Josephine Van Daal, lottery coordinator. Or was it Norris Carret? I forget now.
But that's nothing compared to Summerset International Lottery. They process more addresses, insists Comfort Jose, and bingo! "You have therefore been approved (sic) for a lump sum pay out of one million euro."
"I don't like millionaires," Mark Twain once said. "But it'd be dangerous to offer me the position."
Me too. But from Belgium to Nigeria, Iraq and Spain, they're elbowing each other aside to offer me the job. They all slobber over this instant millionaire. Is it because they're psychic? How else could they figure that I secretly felt kinship with Teyve who, in Broadway's "Fiddler On The Roof," sang my own question: "Would it spoil some vast eternal plan / If I were a wealthy man?"
But you're a rich man, insists Sarah Hoofman of the Euro-Foundation. I am? From Geneva, she reveals that I won 1.5 million euros. And Leonteen Garrnett of Belgium's Lottery Software e-mails to announce: "You've been approved for a lump sum pay out of US$ 1000,000.00." I'm to collect the "dough" not later than Dec. 23, she adds.
Spain's biggest lottery is named "El Gordo" (The Fat One). It compares with the Irish Sweepstakes. Did Gary Smith of Amersfoortsestraagwet in Amsterdam swipe that Iberian trademark? "You are therefore (sic) been approve (sic) for the lump sum pay out of euros 1.25 million," he announces.
At this rate, I deserve a lifestyle check, I tell our neighbor-ombudsman. "Are you nuts?" he snaps.
Maybe. Blame those serial jackpot images dancing through my head. Why, I'd give Joseph Estrada's studentless Muslim Youth Foundation and Ferdinand Marcos' shell philanthropies in Lichtenstein a run for their money.
"No one would have remembered the Good Samaritan if all he had were good intentions," former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher once said. "He had money as well."
By the time Loteria de la Primitiva in Madrid and Holland's Paragon Promo tell of sums waiting for my go-signal, I'm wary. What's the catch? "A fool and his money are soon parted."
All the letters are phrased identically, down to the grammatical errors. Only the amounts vary. Keep it confidential, they ask. But contact a financial agent whose name is given. To dip into the till, first give the chap your private numbers.
"All that's required is provide your full names (sic), address, private phone, bank account and fax numbers," writes Dr. Omar Ali, who claims to be the Credit Bank of Iraq's auditor. Then, he'd transfer $14.2 million, which "no one will ever claim." When "transferred to your bank account," we'll share: "65% for me, 30% for you and 5% for any expenses incured (sic)."
That's better than Mauritius "Member of Parliament" Rajesh Anand Bhagwan's offer which is only 25 percent. Dennis Kingibe at the Security and Investment Bank in Lagos claims access to an idle $20.5 million. Give your bank account numbers, and he'll transfer the loot and split 50-50.
Dubai merchant Khalid Suleman has a sob story: he's dying of esophageal cancer. Before facing God's judgment for a dissolute life, could you help him distribute $28 million to the needy? "I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul," he says. Does bribing the Almighty balance the books in the hereafter? "If you help dispatched (sic) it to charity organizations. I have set aside 20% for your time." And by the way, send your bank account numbers soonest.
Such letters titillate avarice. Their appeals are hitched to officials suspected of hoarding ill-gotten wealth. Letters claim access to the wealth of Muboto Seseke, Papa Doc Duvalier, Suharto -- even Jinggoy Estrada.
"Greed is a tree that grows on arid soil," an Ilocano proverb says.
How many have been conned? But if e-mail traffic is any indication, there are suckers out there willing to be fleeced. Who said there was one "born every minute"?
Fed up, a son trolled his own bait of "half a million dollar investments." Someone bit hard. Detailed exchanges resulted in an elaborate meeting timetable at a Bangkok hotel. On D-Day, my son didn't show up. In reply to long distance inquiries, he replied: "On the way to the airport, I had a flat tire."
Over coffee, this boy explained to me: Charles de Gaulle summed it well: "Revenge is a dish best eaten cold."
Updated 11:23pm (Mla time) Nov 29, 2004
By Juan Mercado
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the November 30, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.
OVER the last two weeks, I have won the lottery thrice. And that excludes the seven times I hit the jackpot earlier. So, how come I still can't toss Eduardo Cojuangco a "name-your-price" offer for those coco-levy-mancled San Miguel Corp. shares?
My e-mail box is crammed with felicitation letters for striking a gold lode. "Your e-mail address won US$500,000," Luckday International wrote. At today's roller-coaster rates, that's P26.5 million. So, how did I squeeze into the ranks of the chosen few?
Over 300,000 e-mail addresses were churned through a computer ballot system, writes Josephine Van Daal, lottery coordinator. Or was it Norris Carret? I forget now.
But that's nothing compared to Summerset International Lottery. They process more addresses, insists Comfort Jose, and bingo! "You have therefore been approved (sic) for a lump sum pay out of one million euro."
"I don't like millionaires," Mark Twain once said. "But it'd be dangerous to offer me the position."
Me too. But from Belgium to Nigeria, Iraq and Spain, they're elbowing each other aside to offer me the job. They all slobber over this instant millionaire. Is it because they're psychic? How else could they figure that I secretly felt kinship with Teyve who, in Broadway's "Fiddler On The Roof," sang my own question: "Would it spoil some vast eternal plan / If I were a wealthy man?"
But you're a rich man, insists Sarah Hoofman of the Euro-Foundation. I am? From Geneva, she reveals that I won 1.5 million euros. And Leonteen Garrnett of Belgium's Lottery Software e-mails to announce: "You've been approved for a lump sum pay out of US$ 1000,000.00." I'm to collect the "dough" not later than Dec. 23, she adds.
Spain's biggest lottery is named "El Gordo" (The Fat One). It compares with the Irish Sweepstakes. Did Gary Smith of Amersfoortsestraagwet in Amsterdam swipe that Iberian trademark? "You are therefore (sic) been approve (sic) for the lump sum pay out of euros 1.25 million," he announces.
At this rate, I deserve a lifestyle check, I tell our neighbor-ombudsman. "Are you nuts?" he snaps.
Maybe. Blame those serial jackpot images dancing through my head. Why, I'd give Joseph Estrada's studentless Muslim Youth Foundation and Ferdinand Marcos' shell philanthropies in Lichtenstein a run for their money.
"No one would have remembered the Good Samaritan if all he had were good intentions," former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher once said. "He had money as well."
By the time Loteria de la Primitiva in Madrid and Holland's Paragon Promo tell of sums waiting for my go-signal, I'm wary. What's the catch? "A fool and his money are soon parted."
All the letters are phrased identically, down to the grammatical errors. Only the amounts vary. Keep it confidential, they ask. But contact a financial agent whose name is given. To dip into the till, first give the chap your private numbers.
"All that's required is provide your full names (sic), address, private phone, bank account and fax numbers," writes Dr. Omar Ali, who claims to be the Credit Bank of Iraq's auditor. Then, he'd transfer $14.2 million, which "no one will ever claim." When "transferred to your bank account," we'll share: "65% for me, 30% for you and 5% for any expenses incured (sic)."
That's better than Mauritius "Member of Parliament" Rajesh Anand Bhagwan's offer which is only 25 percent. Dennis Kingibe at the Security and Investment Bank in Lagos claims access to an idle $20.5 million. Give your bank account numbers, and he'll transfer the loot and split 50-50.
Dubai merchant Khalid Suleman has a sob story: he's dying of esophageal cancer. Before facing God's judgment for a dissolute life, could you help him distribute $28 million to the needy? "I want God to be merciful to me and accept my soul," he says. Does bribing the Almighty balance the books in the hereafter? "If you help dispatched (sic) it to charity organizations. I have set aside 20% for your time." And by the way, send your bank account numbers soonest.
Such letters titillate avarice. Their appeals are hitched to officials suspected of hoarding ill-gotten wealth. Letters claim access to the wealth of Muboto Seseke, Papa Doc Duvalier, Suharto -- even Jinggoy Estrada.
"Greed is a tree that grows on arid soil," an Ilocano proverb says.
How many have been conned? But if e-mail traffic is any indication, there are suckers out there willing to be fleeced. Who said there was one "born every minute"?
Fed up, a son trolled his own bait of "half a million dollar investments." Someone bit hard. Detailed exchanges resulted in an elaborate meeting timetable at a Bangkok hotel. On D-Day, my son didn't show up. In reply to long distance inquiries, he replied: "On the way to the airport, I had a flat tire."
Over coffee, this boy explained to me: Charles de Gaulle summed it well: "Revenge is a dish best eaten cold."
posted by Dante at 4:50 PM
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