Courier Life’s

Carmine’s had it with fishing!

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I’m madder than an Interweb troll trolling this column and demanding a nickel to cross this bridge only to learn that nobody carries cash anymore — let alone nickels — and now he has to set up some kind of PalPay account that’s going to skim off the top and cut into his profits over how this here electronic free-mail is making my life a living hell.

Look, I’ve told you a thousand times before that the ol’Screecher has the shortest arms and deepest pockets in Brooklyn, making it extremely difficult for me to fork over any money for things like shampoo and towels and toilet paper when I know full well I can stock up on those supplies for nothin’ the next time a stay in a fancy hotel.

But that doesn’t mean that I’m not willing to pay for something when there is absolutely, positively no way I can become a satisfied customer when I get it for free.

Now, I know exactly what you’re thinking: “Carmine, what in the heck are you talking about? E-mail?”

No, smarty pants! I’m not talking about … oh, wait a minute. Yes. E-mail.

I remember a time when a postman much like myself gave out hope as if it were candy in his pocket. And he did it all with nothing but the sweat on his back and the gas in his little Jeep that apparently was built in England because it had its steering wheel on the wrong side.

But nowadays people have been fooled into thinking that the Post Office isn’t necessary because for the low cost of a high-speed connection every month (a price that keeps going up, mind you) you can get all your junk mail delivered to your computer screen for free — and never have to recycle any paper.

So you can understand how I now think me and everybody else out there were sold a pig in a poke with this whole e-mail thing, especially since I learned that there are some evil, vile people out there that only want to make me look bad by hacking into my account and sending all my pals messages telling them — nay demanding them — to check out some website that I never set eyes on in my life, and probably contains some R-rated material or worse, some product that I do not use or endorse, or requests money to save my life.

That’s what happened to me this week when the telephone on the kitchen wall was ringing off the hook with calls from friends, relatives, and countrymen who demanded to know why I was sending them a message demanding they send $2,000 to get yours truly (and, I’m guessing, my lovely wife Sharon) home safe from a disastrous trip to some place where the first lady used to like to collect shoes.

But mostly they were worried that I was safe, which, in fact, I was, except for the fact that I was getting a headache from the phone ringing and the other fact that I lost about a day of my precious life reassuring people that I was happy in Brooklyn and had never had any plans to travel so far away without first mentioning it right here — even with the promise of free toiletries always hanging over my head.

And I also pointed out that if, in fact, I was stuck in the Phillipeans, I wouldn’t be asking for $2,000, I instead would demand at least $5,000 so I could fly first class!

Thankfully, not everyone was fooled by this silly scam, with one pal telling me that he knew the letter couldn’t be mine, because I was a much better writer than the letter showed, because I instinctively use spelledcheck.

Even Channel 7 Eyewitness News called me about it, and was surprised at the different reactions because they constantly do stories on such scams.

And the calls and e-mails went on and on, and on and on. My Tech swimming teammates sent one to Argentina and one to me to advise that someone hacked my mail. Well, outside of reporting this to my readers and to Yahoo officials, I’ll let you know what they said I in another column. But meanwhile, thank you all for your well wished and concerns.

And and I’d like to point out that none of this would have happened if we didn’t switch from the tried-and-true method of communicating by putting quill to paper, sealing it in an envelope using glue made from a horse, and then licking a stamp that we paid hard-earned money for and sticking that on to the envelope (again, with horse glue), putting it in a blue box on the corner and letting the government do its job: keeping the public informed!

Screech at you next week!

Read Carmine's screech every Saturday on E-mail him at

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