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On X, the name for what's left of Twitter, I got a direct message from someone I'll call Hank Halstik: "Greetings and G od Bless. I've checked out your profile and chosen you as one of the amazing people I'll be sending a $30,000 cash prize. This may appear dubious, but congratulations on being picked for my giveaway program."
Why would this appear dubious? What total stranger wouldn't want to send me a bunch of money? As noted, I'm an amazing person. I am, after all, the end result of over 3 billion years of evolution. Put that way, though, it seems like a hell of a lot of time and effort just to come up with the likes of me.
In any case, Hank found me amazing. According to his X profile, he was the winner of $386.4 million in the Powerball lottery. A quick search confirmed Hank Halstik was, in fact, the name of an actual Powerball winner. Obviously, this offer was completely, 100%, beyond a doubt, legitimate.
Then Hank asked my name. That was weird since my X profile gives my name — complete with the genuine, overpriced X blue checkmark confirming I was either me or willing to pay to pretend to be me. I reread my profile, and my amazingness (amazingosity?) wasn't as clear-cut as you might expect. Basically, it just said don't contact me hustling bitcoin, Illuminati membership or mythical affairs with hypothetical women. Fortunately, I hadn't included anything about not sending me $30,000.
God-blessed me again, for in Hank's next message, he wanted to make sure the money would be put to beneficial use. I wrote, "I have to be honest." (Since when?) "Every cent that doesn't go to drugs and pornography will be donated to underprivileged countries like North Korea and Afghanistan for their chemical weapons programs. In any case, I resent being checked up on. An Ohio Powerball winner on Bluesky just offered me $200,000. I think I'll go with her."
An immediate response. "She's a phony. Besides, my winners are now getting $300,000. But you've got to move immediately." He gave me the phone number for his FedEx shipping agent. I was to text the agent my address along with a secret code — XH-ADSA — to identify me as a lucky $30,000 — no, $300,000 — winner.
The shipping agent — who obviously was not Hank because Hank was on X and this guy was on the phone — sent me a return text with the FedEx logo, very official, and the message that CB-6***-GH*** had been approved for delivery. CB-6***-GH*** didn't seem to match up in any way with my code, XH-ADSA. Still, he said all I had to do now was select a shipping option. They ranged from $385 for 7-day delivery up to $745 for overnight. That seemed like a lot for sending me a single check. I offered to mail him a self-addressed envelope and a stamp. But he said he was required to send the money through FedEx.
"Just send it overnight then," I texted. "And charge it to my FedEx account." Helpfully, I provided an imaginary nine-digit number. "And I've changed my mind. Send all the money directly to Kim Jong Un, 1 Bipa Street, Pyongyang, People's Republic of Korea. I've given him your phone number to call if there's any problem. Just be sure you don't cross him. He can be quite testy."
My generosity must have created astonishing karma. Because that very afternoon, I was contacted on Bluesky again. This time, I'd won $1,000,000 and a new Chevy Silverado from Publishers Clearing House. And I'd never even entered. Then three days later on X, Official Elon Musk, @MuskElon30 — blue verification checkmark and all — awarded me $50,000 a month for the next year and a new Tesla.
It's almost unbelievable.
Previously:
• English and I -- or Maybe Me
• Groucho and I and the Race for 2028
• All Human Thought: Pre-AI Addition