I plan retiring soon as strangers promise putting $85.5 M in my account

More frequently lately my e-mails have been filled with letters seeking assistance transferring money from overseas' bank accounts. The letters all offer great wealth for simply helping transfer their money.

Just this morning I received this one:

"Hello. I am aircraft engineer and a senior member of the tenders committee for the purchase of parts in my ministry, The Federal Ministry of Aviation.

"After the consultation with other members of the committee I am specifically mandated to arrange with you for the transfer of some funds being an over cost resulting from various contracts executed by foreign firms to the Federal Ministry of Aviation in 1999."

The letter then lists the contracts worth millions and billions of dollars.

It continues "The original value of these contracts was purposefully over-inflated by the committee by $85.5 million, which we want to transfer into your account."

I read in growing excitement that complete strangers - living in an unidentified country - trust me enough to give me millions of dollars. I feel very honored and wonder how they knew I was so deserving.

The letter continues, "We have unanimously agreed that if you will act as the beneficiary for the funds you can keep 30 percent."

Heck. I thought they were giving me all the money. Oh well, they must really trust me to offer 30 percent of $85.5 million. I quickly do the calculation, realize I can retire earlier then planned. I can live quite well on $25.6 million. There will even be enough left over after taxes to share with my church, community and children.

However, the letter now lowers my expectations. It continues, "We are not allowed to have large sums of money in our local accounts, considering our salary base. We have put many years in the civil service and would not like to forfeit our pensions, gratuities or dent our reputable image. So handle this arrangement with the utmost secrecy and maturity considering the confidentiality reposed on this business."

In other words they are stealing this money, wanting to include me in their crooked scheme. Or, maybe I'm really the intended victim. They don't want me telling anyone until they clean out my life savings. They'd be disappointed: there's enough in the accounts for, maybe, a couple burgers and a shake.

For "security reasons" the letter asks for a phone number. At this stage social security and bank account numbers were not requested... that, of course, comes later.

Last year a friend decided to play along with one of these wonderful opportunities.

He responded by sending a return e-mail identifying himself as Taco Enchilada-Burrito, along with a phone number, which happened to be the Federal Bureau of Investigation's. My friend received an e-mailed thank you, addressed to Taco Enchilada-Burrito, along with the promise he'd be contacted soon.

Wonder how the caller reacted when the FBI's switchboard operator answered?

Operator: Good morning, this is the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Heavily-accented caller: I need Taco Enchilada-Burrito, please.

Operator: This is the FBI. You need to call Taco Bell.

Frankly, we'd be better off unplugging our computers, burning them to ashes, and fertilizing the garden, instead of using valuable time on too-good-to-be-true offers from strangers.