The Cell and the Chain

It was dark, so dark. And then I realized why it was dark: my eyes were tightly shut.

I opened my eyes and let the light hit them.

I was inside a jail cell. It looked like, well, a regular jail cell. Bed, sink, toilet.

Wait. Bed, sink, toilet. Words written on the wall. This was the cell. This was the cell my dad took me to, the one my dad locked me in for a whole hour.

This was where I learned the words that ended the world.

How did I end up back here? This couldn't be the Singularity Cell. It couldn't be. I had been here before.

There was no one else in the cell. There should have been a chain and an anvil. And "Ferratus," whoever that was. And I was supposed to break the chain with...a metaphor?

But that was not happening here. Something must have gone wrong. I needed to find Jack again.

"Jack-in-Irons," a voice said. "Jack-in-Irons brought you here." I turned and there was a man sitting on the floor. He had a long, ragged beard and his face was pock-marked with scars. His hands were manacled to the wall.

"Yes," I said. "Jack led me here. But I was supposed to be in-"

"The prison," the man said. "The prison at the beginning and end of all things. Welcome, Jacob. Welcome to hell." The man began to laugh and I could see that there were lit matches in his beard and smoke rose from them.

I blinked and suddenly he wasn't an old man anymore - he was tall and terrible and covered in iron. And before him there was an anvil as big as I was tall. And his manacles had chains that were wrapped around his body and around the anvil.

His laughter echoed in my skull.

"Break the chain, Jacob," Ferratus said. "Break the chain and set me free. Break the chain and save the world, set me free and doom it. Break the chain, Jacob."

I could see what happened now. Jack had tricked me. He had led me here, he had told me to break the chain, but if I did, Ferratus would escape. And whatever Ferratus did might be worse than what I had done. Wouldn't it?

But I had to do something. I couldn't leave the world empty. I could save the world and break the chain.

Ferratus laughed at me again and raised up his chain to me and I suddenly remembered what Jack had said. How metaphors become that which they symbolized.

"Compassion can cut like a knife," I said. And there was a knife in my hand and I could see how sharp the blade was. "It can cut through the hardest iron."

And I swept the knife forward and cut the chain the bound Ferratus to the anvil.

He laughed again and looked at me. "I thank you for freeing me," he said, his voice a raging storm inside my head. "The fetters are now broken, the words no longer connect. The world has returned to its normal state of being. Ripe for the plucking."

"My father was a cop," I said. "And every Christmas, he read to us his favorite story. I remember him reading one part so vividly. It went like this: 'You are fettered,' said Scrooge, trembling. 'Tell me why?' 'I wear the chain I forged in life,' replied the Ghost. 'I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?'"

Chains materialized around me and I quickly wrapped them around Ferratus's manacled hands and then the anvil.

I had cut his chain and replaced it with my own.

I blinked again and the tall, iron-clad Ferratus was again the old man, with smoking matches in his beard. "You are a fool," the old man said, "for you are now chained with me. You will stay here until you die."

"I know," I said. The chains were heavy, but I could bear them.

I'm writing this message on the wall in the hope that someone - perhaps Jack - will find it and put it up. If you do, tell my family that I'm okay. Or maybe just tell them I'm dead. It doesn't matter.

I used to hate my dad for what he did to me. Even the name he gave me, for which I was tormented mercilessly at school. I blamed him when the bullies picked on me and when I got into that fight. But it was my burden.


My father told me that prisons were only for bad people, liars and killers and so on. That if you were bad, you belonged there. I don't believe that. I don't think I'm a bad person.

But I belong here.

Goodbye,
Jacob Marley

The City

Jack led me through the city to a door. "Does that lead to the prison?" I asked.

"No," he said. "This door leads to a city. A wonderful, terrible city. A city that never ends. And at the end of that city, at the very bottom, that is where you will find the prison."

I looked at him, saw his smiling face, and then looked away. "How can there be an end to an endless city?" I asked.

"Everything has an end," Jack said, "even something that is infinite."

"But-"

"Come on," Jack interrupted and opened the door. He gestured and I walked through it.

The other city looked much the same as the one we had come from, at first. Then, as we walked through it, it began to change, slowly and subtly. The buildings grew taller, the streets grew wider, everything became more...grand. When we stopped, I looked up and noticed that the buildings seemed to stretch higher and higher and there didn't seem an end to them.

"How far do they go?" I asked.

"All the way," Jack said. "Come on."

He led me through alleyways and down side streets that I swore changed directions. We passed shops and stores and theaters, all with signs written in incomprehensible letters. They hurt my eyes to just look at, so I looked down at my feet and followed Jack.

Finally, we reached a dock on a lake. There was a ferry. We both got on and Jack pushed us off.

"Where does this lead?" I asked. I had so many questions, but I knew he wouldn't answer them.

"The ferry leads down," Jack said. "Today, I play the part of ferryman and you the part of the dead. But we go farther than the underworld, my friend. In the middle of the lake is a hole, made from a piece of nothing at all. And this hole leads to the bottom of everything. The Singularity Cell."

"A hole?" I asked. "If it's in the lake, wouldn't it create-"

And then I saw it. The water swirling around, turning us in circles. The whirlpool.

We were caught in Charybdis.

"This is where I leave you," Jack said. "Good luck."

"Wait!" I shouted. "How do I break the chain?"

"Remember what I said," Jack smiled. "Metaphors tend to become the thing they represent. It's a real chain, Jacob." Then he snapped his finger and faded away like a ghost.

The whirlpool pulled the ferry faster and faster until it tipped over and I fell

down

down

down.

Breaking the Chain

I sat down on the front steps of my apartment and Jack stepped closer, as if to comfort me.

"There there," he said, "it could have been anyone, really. Well, no, actually, it couldn't. It had to have been someone in the cell who read those words with the mind of a child. It was quite a coincidence that it happened to you, really. Cheer up!"

"Cheer up?" I said. "I caused the end of the fucking world, how am I supposed to cheer up?"

"It's not the end of the world," Jack said. "The world will keep turning. Man will be quite extinct, but the world will keep going. For a little while at least."

"How do I stop it?" I asked. "Can I...break the chain or something?"

"You can't," Jack said. "The chain is self-repairing. Freshly forged, you might say. The only way is to, I don't know, find the place where the idea came from and break it there."

"That'll work?" I asked.

"Oh yes," Jack said. "If you break the chain where it meets the anvil, well, no more meme. Everyone goes back to normal. It'll be like none of this ever happened."

"How do I break it though?" I asked. "You said it was a metaphorical chain. A chain of thought. So...what, do I just disrupt the thought? Upload a virus to the mothership or something?"

"Ha!" Jack laughed. "Someone's been watching too many movies. No, I said the chain was metaphorical here. Over there, well, metaphors tend to become the thing they represent. Thoughts become things. The chain is an actual chain, is what I'm saying."

"Over...where?" I asked.

His smile seemed to grow wider. "His prison," he said. "The prison. The prison at the bottom of the universe. Some call it the Planck Level. I call it the Singularity Cell." He extended his hand and said, "I can take you there."

"Getting back, however, that's your concern."

Jack

I met another man today. This man was, thankfully, not foaming at the mouth and could form coherent sentences. He said his name was Jack. He wore a three-piece suit with one red glove. He was standing outside my apartment when I ventured outside.

"I can explain everything that's happened," Jack said.

"Thank God," I said.

"Just Jack, if you don't mind," Jack said. "You see, it's a chain."

"What?" I stepped back.

Jack smiled. "Not a real chain. No, this is more of a metaphorical chain. A chain of thought. Do you know what a meme is?"

The sudden question startled me. "Um, yes," I said. "It's like an internet joke that goes viral-"

"No, no," Jack said. "It's an idea. It's an idea that spreads like a virus. An image, a song, a phrase." He emphasized the last word. "A phrase like, say, 'Ferratus, his fetters freshly forged.'"

I looked at him confused. "That's a meme?" I asked. "It doesn't even make sense."

"Ideas rarely have to make sense," Jack said. "But it is an idea. One that digs into your mind, burrows into your thoughts, and spreads its little maggot ideas outwards from there. One that implants an urge in your head, an urge to fight, to kill." Jack smiled again and I felt sick. "And like a virus, it spread from person to person, creating a chain."

"Where did it come from?" I asked.

"It was written on the wall of a cell," Jack said. "And a little boy read it one day and it become etched in his mind, locked away until one day it surfaced. Don't you remember, Jacob?"

"What?" I said. "How do you know my name?"

"Didn't you wonder how you keep getting all those emails when nobody knew your email address?" Jack said. "Didn't you check where they were all coming from? Go on then. Look."

I went back to my apartment and got my laptop, then opened up my email. I had tons of new "Ferratus" - I stopped deleting them when I stopped checking my email. I looked at the sender on one. And then the next one. And the next. I looked at the sender for all of them.

They were all me. I sent them to myself.

I rushed back outside. Jack was still there, still smiling.

"You caused it," Jack said. "You spread it. That's why you're still here, still unaffected. You're an asymptomatic carrier of the idea. Like Typhoid Mary."

"Why?" I asked, almost unable to form words. "Why me?"

Jack said two words, just two words and I held my hand over my mouth, for fear that I might scream.

"Why not?"

Someone

I saw someone today. A man.

I've been taking walks around the city. Just looking for anyone, anything, any sign of human beings, or where people went. A goddamn note that said Croatoan would work. It would at least be a sign of something.

And then today I saw a man.

He was standing, facing the brick wall of a building. He had his hands on the wall like it was holding him up or something.

I called out to him. I called out hello.

He started shaking, like he had the jitters. Then he turned to look at me.

He had a tattoo on his face. A double fork, like that man from KFC. He was...foaming at the mouth. His eyes were bloodshot. "Ferratus," he said, "his fetters freshly forged."

I ran. I ran so fast that I quickly ran out of breath and just kept running, trying to breathe as I did.

I must have been miles away when I realized I wasn't being chased anymore.

I'm scared. I'm tired and scared and don't know what the fuck is going on.

Someone help me please.

Work

I walked to work today. I hadn't heard anything outside for a while, so I thought it might be safe.

It was weird. There was nobody around. I mean nobody. Just...empty streets, empty buildings, no one anywhere.

Work was locked. So were the local stores. I walked back to my apartment in silence.

What happened to everybody?

Emergency Broadcast

There was an emergency broadcast on the news. It's the first time they've reported anything on what's happened.

They said to stay indoors and wait for local authorities. They never said why. They never said what the riots were about or who started them or how many there are. They just said to "stay indoors" and wait for "local authorities." Wait for them to do what?

...seriously, what the hell is going on?

Riots

What's going on? I woke up to a riot happening outside my apartment.

I haven't ventured outside, just took short glances, but I've been hearing police sirens all day long. Every time I looked outside, there were more people just...fighting. They looked angry and...I don't know what's happening. I don't know how I'm getting to work on Monday if this is still going on.

The television isn't reporting anything and there's nothing on the internet. What the hell is going on?

INTERMISSION IV

By the way, I'm not a hacker or alternate personality or anything of that sort. Though you may be wondering how I know the things I know, if that isn't the case.




I'm what you might call an agent provocateur. I like to instigate things.




And my name? My name is Jack.


Jack-in-Irons.

INTERMISSION III

Now, wasn't that interesting? A little flashback into the childhood of our dear narrator.




And now comes the good part. The part where all is revealed to the narrator, where he decides to run or stay or go insane. Isn't that how it always goes? Death or insanity or a life on the run. Quite limiting, isn't it?




Oh, well, if that's how things must be, that's how things must be.




So let's begin again.




Wake up, Jacob.

INTERMISSION II

Interior. An empty jail cell. The cell door opens slowly and a man and a small boy look inside.




MAN: See, Jacob? This is where bad people go. You don't want to be bad or else you'll end up here.


BOY: I told you, I didn't do it.


MAN: Now, I thought I taught you not to tell lies. This is where liars go, Jacob.


BOY: I'm not lying, Dad. Please, believe me.


MAN: I can tell you're lying. Do you know why? Because I've been a cop for a long time, Jacob. I can just tell when people are lying.


BOY: But I'm not!


MAN: It doesn't matter. Even if you're telling the truth, you need to know this. This is where liars and killers and bad people end up. You don't want to end up here, Jacob. I'll show you why.


The man leads Jacob inside the empty cell and then leaves and closes the door.


BOY: Dad! Lemme out!


MAN: No, Jacob. I'll let you out in one hour, you understand? One hour. That'll teach you how horrible this place is. Do you understand?


BOY: No!


MAN: You will. One hour, Jacob. Just one hour.




The man's footsteps fade away and the boy is left alone. He starts crying. He wipes away a trail of snot on his sleeve and takes a look around the cell. There is one bed, one sink without a mirror, one toilet.




On the concrete wall, something is written. The boy slowly goes over and reads it:




FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED,
FINDS OUT THAT HE CAN ONLY BE GORGED
ON THE FEAR AND BLOOD AND TERRIBLE PAIN
OF THOSE WHO ARE CAUGHT IN HIS SEARING CHAIN.




The boy reads this poem with curiosity, but he cannot forget where he is. He sits on the bed and cries until one hour has passed and his father returns for him.




Afterwards, he forgets the poem entirely.

INTERMISSION I

You think you know what's going to happen next, don't you? You've read it all before. You know what's going to happen. It's practically cliché.


So let's change that, shall we?


Our narrator has already been introduced to the idea of FERRATUS, the being otherwise known as the BRUTE, though he does not believe in its existence. Instead, he quite believes that it is some sort of cult. We know better, don't we? Why don't we strip away his illusions, tear away his reality, show him the truth?


Wouldn't that be fun?


But first, a short intermission.

An Explanation

Okay, I finally got an explanation about all these "Ferratus" emails. I almost deleted this email before I read the title: WHAT IS FERRATUS?

WHAT IS FERRATUS? 

FERRATUS is the GOD IN CHAINS. FERRATUS stole FIRE from the GODS long ago and gave it to MAN. In return for this rebellion, the GODS CHAINED FERRATUS to an ANVIL and made it so he could never ESCAPE. Every time he would BREAK his CHAINS, the ANVIL would FORGE NEW CHAINS and wrap them around FERRATUS. 

FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED. 

Though he is still CHAINED, FERRATUS has learned how to spread his CHAINS through the world. His FIRE-FORGED CHAINS can make you FREE. His IRON ANVIL can make you STRONG. 

FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED.

Okay, some some new religiousy cult that stealing it's origin from Prometheus. Nice.

Now, how do I get them to stop sending me emails?

More Spam

More of that fucking "Ferratus" spam. How the hell did it find my new email this quickly? I didn't sign up for anything, I didn't hand out my new email to anyone.

And what the fuck does this mean?

FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED. 

FERRATUS SPREADS HIS CHAINS. HIS FIRE-FORGED CHAINS WILL MAKE YOU FREE. HIS IRON ANVIL WILL MAKE YOU STRONG. 

FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED.

Bizarre Incident

This isn't a chain letter, but it just happened today and it was just so fucking bizarre that I have to write about it.

Okay, during my lunch break, I go to KFC. Sometimes I get something to eat, most of the time I just get a soda and each my lunch and read my book. I wish there was a wider variety of fast food places nearby, but nope, only KFC.

So I'm sitting at a table and a guy walks up to the counter. He's a big guy and he has some tattoos, including this weird double-forked thing on his neck. And when the server asks him what he wants, he says, "Ferratus, his fetters freshly forged."

Yeah, that's right. He's repeating that fucking spam email.

So the server asks him again and again this guy says, "Ferratus, his fetters freshly forged." And nobody knows what to say or do.

I mean, the server is completely bewildered and doesn't say anything and meanwhile the guy just looks like he's getting angrier and angrier. Maybe he had some sort of condition where he couldn't understand what he was saying, I don't know.

Finally, the guy yells, "Ferratus! His fetters freshly forged!" and then he slams his hand on the counter. And the counter cracks. The server freaks out and runs back and I think goes to call the cops, while the guy in front looks like steam is going to pour from his ears.

Finally, he looks around and sees everyone staring at him and then he just leaves.

What the fuck, right?

Change of Email

I've changed my email, because I kept getting those stupid "Ferratus" spam emails. I know it's stupid to change your email address just because of spam, but it was getting to be too much. I was getting twenty to thirty of them a day and no matter how many I marked as spam, they never went into my spam folder.

So I've changed my email address. And I'm going to be careful and not give it out to many people, so I won't be getting any spam, thank you very much.

Ferratus Again

Man, I keep getting these stupid "Ferratus" emails. I think I got six today. They are all slightly different, but basically say the same thing - "Ferratus is chained blah blah blah free him blah blah blah." Maybe it's part of a game or something?

Anyway, I found it interesting that this was also in one of the emails. Who knew the chain author liked William Blake?

What the HAMMER? what the CHAIN,
In what FURNACE was thy BRAIN?
What the ANVIL? what dread GRASP.
Dare its deadly terrors CLASP! 

When the stars threw down their SPEARS
And water'd heaven with their TEARS:
Did he SMILE his work to SEE?
Did he who made the LAMB make THEE?

Himmelsbrief

Okay, now let's look at what must be one of the oldest chain letters: the Himmelsbrief or "Letter from Heaven."

These are letters that supposedly "fell from Heaven" or were handed to a person by an angel or historical personage long dead (usually Jesus Christ or Mary Magdalene). Some scholars claim that are, in fact, older than Christianity. One dates to at least the sixth century. Lots of them were printed in German in Pennysylvania. Some soldiers even took English versions with them into World War I and II.

Today, we will be looking at the "Count Philip Himmelsbrief," which supposedly gave protection to a person from all sorts of things:

The following curious and remarkable letter, which saved the life of a person condemned to death, as no instrument of murder was able to kill him, has already, in many cases in our own land, shown itself, particularly during our Revolutionary War, of great effect, to such who had it in their possession, during their greatest danger, and while to their right and left victims of death fell dead. But let each one read the letter itself and learn of what wonderful service and efficacy it is and how desirable it must be to obtain a copy. The Letter [After the Original.] Count Philip of Flanders had a servant who had committed a crime for which he was condemned to die, but no sword would execute him, no sword would punish and execute him right, upon which the Count was greatly astonished and said: "How shall I understand this thing? tell me how it is, and I will grant you your life, and will also do you good." The servant showed him the letter, and the Count was pleased with it and had it transcribed and given to his servants. 

Must you appear before the magistrate, court or judge, then take this letter with you, and whatever you may ask of the officer it will not be denied you; or have you an enemy who designs to quarrel with you, take this letter with you and keep it on the right side of your body, and he will not be able to overcome you. During the pains of child birth and if it cannot be born, hang the letter around the neck of the woman and the child will be born with but little difficulty. For bleeding of the nose, give the letter into the right hand of the person bleeding, and it will help immediately. Read or say: Lord Jesus Christ, thou who art the true man and son of God, protect thou me from the assaults of all kinds of weapons, spear, sword, sabre, cutlass, knife, tomahawk, rapier, helmet, burdon or any other weapon that pierces or cuts the skin, or from any and everything prohibited by holy writ, that is from all kinds of weapons, artillery, cannon, musket, rifle, gun or pistol. Lead keep thy rights and prove thyself, as did Mary in her virginity before and after the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ, and his holy raisen-colored blood which he spilt on the holy cross. Lord Jesus Christ, protect thou me. 

Against whoredom and breaking in, against murder and manslaughter, against burning and any calamity by fire, against thieves, against ropes, fetters and chains to bind, Lord Jesus Christ protect thou me and desert me not, and do not thou permit me to be damned, but be thou with me to the end and permit me not to die without receiving thy holy sacraments -- to this help thou me God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. The Holy Trinity be with me, on the land and on the water, in the wood, in fields, towns, cities, villages, groves and thickets. Lord Jesus Christ protect thou me against all enemies, seen and unseen, secret or open; keep me safe from all harm through the bitter sufferings and death of our Lord Jesus Christ, and his holy raisin- colored blood, which he shed at the foot of the cross. Jesus Christ was conceived at Nazareth, born at Bethlehem, and crucified, murdered and died at Jerusalem. These are words of truth written in this letter, that I may not be caught and bound by men or murderers. They must flee from me all arms and guns, and not take hold on me and loose all their power over me. Rifle hold thy load. The cross of Christ and his holy five wounds not bound with power must conquer all arms, like as the man who laid his hands on the Lord Jesus Christ to bind him, even so hold they charge, like as the Son was obedient in the Father till death. Rifle or deadly weapon hold thy charge by and through the almighty hand, and so must all deadly weapons be brought too nought, in the name of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost. Jesus crossed the red sea, he went into the holy land, thus must be broken all ropes and bands. Band break all power of canes and reeds, arms and weapons must cease their dazzling. Lord Jesus Christ protect thou me, that no rope may cause me to fall, no bow or gun may cause its fire to be cast at me, that no weapon may pierce or cut, be it of iron or steel, be it of metal or lead, that I may be blessed so much like as the cup and the wine, and the true bread of heaven which was given by the Lord Jesus Christ to his twelve disciples, in the name of God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Ghost; the blessing which God gave the first man he created, come and overshadow me. The blessing that God gave to Noah overshadow and protect me. The blessing that God gave to Mary and Joseph as they removed from their own country, go with and overshadow and protect me. The reed first in my right hand go through the enemy's land and hand, that no tree may fall upon me, that no water may deluge me, that no snake, adder or poisonous creature may bite, nor that the wolf may be able to tear me, protect thou me. My blood may if flow forever, Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews. Amen.

Ferratus

Okay, here's one I just got. It's new (to me at least), so I figured I would post it directly here (I have no idea what the random capitalization or bolding is about):

FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED. 

FERRATUS is CHAINED to the ANVIL. FERRATUS IS the ANVIL. FERRATUS IS the CHAIN. FERRATUS FREES YOU. FERRATUS IMPRISONS YOU. 

FERRATUS brought you FIRE. FERRATUS brought you SMOKE. FERRATUS brought you FREEDOM. YOU MUST FREE FERRATUS. 

Become CHAINED like FERRATUS. BRAND HIS FORK UPON YOU. SPREAD HIS GLORY UPON THE WORLD.

FERRATUS, HIS FETTERS FRESHLY FORGED.

Bonus points for using actual chains in a chain letter.

The Ghost Teen

Okay, this is a more modern chain letter that first started on MySpace in 2006. It's similar to the current "creepypasta" phenomena, although it still requests that it be spread, like a regular chain letter.

She was pushed. 

About 6 years ago in Indiana, Carmen Winstead was pushed down a sewer opening by 5 girls in her school, trying to embarrass her in front of her school during a fire drill. When she didn't emerge the police were called. They went down and brought up 17 year old Carmen Winstead's body, the neck broke hitting the ladder. T girls told every she fell... They believed her. 

FACT: 2 months ago, 16 year old David Gregory read this post and didn't rest it. When he went to take shower, he heard laughter from his shower, he started freaking out and ran to his computer to rrt it. He said goodnight o his  mom and went to sleep, 5 hours later his mom woke up in the middle of the night cause of a loud noise, David was gone, that morning a few hours later the police found him in the sewer, his neck broke and his face peeled off. If you don't repost this saying 

"She was pushed" 

or "They pushed her down a sewer" 

Then Carmen will get you, either from a sewer, the toilet, the shower, or when you go to sleep you'll wake up in the sewer, in the dark, then Carmen will come and kill you.

The Nigerian Scam

Also known as: the Nigerian 419 scam (which refers to the portion of the Nigerian Criminal Code relating to fraud).

Yes, it's probably the most well known chain letter / faxlore / spam email out there. Even if you've never received one, you've at least heard of it. And why? Because, unfortunately, it works. There are people, I don't want to say naive, but trusting enough to believe that this scam was real.

So take a look at one version of it, shall we?

ATTENTION: THE MANAGING DIRECTOR 

DEAR SIR, 

URGENT BUSINESS PROPOSAL 

WE HAVE THIRTY MILLION U.S. DOLLARS WHICH WE GOT FROM OVER INFLATED CONTRACT FROM CRUDE OIL CONTRACT AWARD TO FOREIGN CONTRACTORS IN THE NIGERIAN NATIONAL PETROLEUM CORPORATION (NNPC). WE ARE SEEKING YOUR ASSISANCE AND PERMISSION TO REMIT THIS AMOUNT INTO YOUR ACCOUNT. YOUR COMMISSION IS THIRTY PERCENT OF THE MONEY. 

PLEASE NOTIFY ME OF YOUR ACCEPTANCE TO DO THIS BUSINESS URGENTLY. THE MEN INVOLVED ARE MEN IN GOVERNMENT. MORE DETAILS WILL BE SENT TO YOU BY FAX AS SOON AS WE HEAR FROM YOU. FOR THE PURPOSE OF COMMUNICAITON IN THIS MATTER, MAY WE HAVE YOUR TELEFAX, TELEX AND TELEPHONE NUMBERS INCLUDING YOUR PRIVATE HOME TELEPHONE NUMBER. 

CONTACT ME URGENTLY THROUGH THE FAX NUMBERS ABOVE.
PLEASE TREAT AS MOST CONFIDENTIAL, ALL REPLIES STRICTLY BY DHL COURIER, OR THROUGH ABOVE FAX NUMBER. 

THANKS FOR YOUR CO-OPERATION. 

YOURS FAITHFULLY, 

PRINCE JONES DIMKA

Project CHAIN MAIL

I've always been fascinated by chain letters. From faxlore to those weird spam emails, but especially the ones that try to trick you into believing in things, from sick little girls (that have been sick and little for over twenty years) to figuring out your true love by copy-and-pasting a message around YouTube (which some inevitable bad thing happening to you if you don't).

So this blog is to record all the chain letters, spam emails, and weird comments I can find.

Welcome to Project CHAIN MAIL.