I\u2019m one of those rare individuals who actually likes reading ad spam. Really. And I say so without a hint of pretension. The pieces with colourful (read appalling) grammar or syntax don\u2019t do it for me. It\u2019s my delight, however, to read a particularly well-crafted piece of spam and discover an errant misspelt word that instantly collapses the whole deceit.<\/p>\n
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Judging from the morasse of scam spam doing the rounds, I can picture third world boiler rooms filled with dubious copywriters, whose maternal tongue might not be in sync with the target market\u2019s culture, churning out creative variations on, say, the 519 scam.<\/p>\n
In essence, the cash offer appeals to the receiver\u2019s greed and this inducement is usually sufficient to bait the unwitting email recipient to disclose their banking details. The confidential details are then used by the scam perpetrators to abscond with the duped individual\u2019s funds. Stung.<\/p>\n
The elemental psychology of the Nigerian scam occasionally becomes the art of high cunning. The most deceptive versions involve a deceit within a deceit or what amounts to a \u2018reverse double bluff\u2019. In a double bluff the individual aims to deceive by telling the truth and hoping the audience will think it\u2019s a lie. Classic reverse psychology. In 519 psychology you have what I label a \u2018reverse double bluff\u2019 \u2013 the perpetrator intends to deceive, so the initial communication premise is untrue. However, the follow through is true.<\/p>\n
Here\u2019s an example: You receive an email, ostensibly from your bank, on official letterhead, with all the usual legal riders in place such as \u2018We are a registered financial services provider, reg. no. xxxx etc.\u2019 and \u2018Please email or call us during office hours for further information\u2019. The communication is usually to inform you that an amount was erroneously debited from your account and that by \u2018logging in\u2019 you will be able to reverse the error. Not.<\/p>\n
The email usually arrives in your inbox between Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, local time, so it\u2019s impossible to reach the call centre. Alternatively the call centre numbers take you directly to the boiler room of the scamsters and the heart of the deceptive web.<\/p>\n
To lend greater \u2018credibility\u2019 to the con, the communication is closed with a warning, supposedly from your bank, to be wary of \u2018phishing\u2019 scams i.e. the very thing which is being perpetrated upon you. Mala fide. By spamming tens of millions, sufficient unsuspecting members of the public are filched of their funds to keep this practice alive and well, becoming increasingly refined over time.<\/p>\n
While unravelling spam psychology and hunting spelling clangers in unsolicited trade emails, I occasionally chance upon some remarkable neologisms. Today\u2019s was my best. The otherwise word perfect deluxe piece of spam ended with one arrestingly refreshing word: instead of \u2018unsubscribe\u2019, the ever-so-quirky: \u2018unsume\u2019.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I\u2019m one of those rare individuals who actually likes reading ad spam. Really. And I say so without a hint of pretension. The pieces with colourful (read appalling) grammar or syntax don\u2019t do it for me. It\u2019s my delight, however, … Continue reading