Nigerian scammers are sort of like restaurants that serve Hungarian Goulash - they're never around when you need one. But I am now prepared should the need arise, in this "kill 'em with kindness" reply:
Dear Nigerian Scammer,
Greetings my new-found Republic of Burundi friend, and thank you for the email dated September xx, 2003. Back in the late '70s I had a foreign penpal from Norway, just outside Stavanger, which is about a hundred miles from Oslo. I'm sure you know where Oslo is - just go to fjord in the road and take it, tee-hee!
Anyhow, my correspondent was a very prolific writer despite the time it took to receive mail. You mightn't believe this unless you're of a certain age, but back then we had to write letters by hand and then pay seventy cents for an airmail stamp, which would take upwards of 4-6 weeks to arrive by carrier pigeon.
But you're probably not interested in my old penpal (although do let me know if you are, because there are many stories I could tell like the time she casually mentioned "bottle parties" and I had no idea what that meant because I'm not Norwegian nor could I easily read her writing and I thought she wrote "battle parties" and asked her what battle parties were and she said something about drinking, which, I'll be honest, was not even on my radar since KoolAid was the strongest stuff I drank and to this day I'm not sure what bottle parties were because she was vague about it, as if if I didn't know she wasn't going to tell me just like you'd get with kids who know about the birds and bees but don't want to discuss it with you unless you already know, but if everyone did that how would anybody know anything, ya know what I mean? You don't happen to know what bottle parties are, do you?).
As I said, you're probably not interested in those days before email, this amazing electronic invention. I greeted your note with gladness and surprise, since I share your interest in free market initiatives such as the one you are proposing, as long as they be of a legal nature. The situation you describe reminds me of a clogged drain - if I spring for the Drano, you'll have water galore with which to share with me.
But one thing still bothers me though. Bottle parties....just what the heck are they?