ADVENTURES IN SCAM BAITING PART VII: 
PRICK SPRINGFIELD 

I had so much trouble posting the screenshots from this one. They were really disorganized in my phone, and I think I inadvertently deleted a few of them, while a few others seem to be out of order. I blame my post-COVID brain fog. Whatever. 

This wannabe scammer kept stalking me on Instagram using various accounts, all of them purporting to be the "private" account of Rick Springfield. I got several notifications that accounts with names like therealrickspringfield and rickspringfield456 were now following me, and I'd block and report them every time, but then a day later another new fake Rick Springfield account would pop up and follow me. I mean what the hell, and why me? Creepy fucker.   

Below: notice how he ignores my comment about Nigerian scumbag scammers. Heh.

Below: Okay, this is where I think I must have deleted a screenshot or two, because he's suddenly talking about his "identification card." I asked for proof that he was Rick Springfield, and he sent a shot of a (fake) driver's license, but then he'd quickly delete it from the chat a few seconds later before I had time to scrutinize it. 

But below you can see I was eventually able to take a screenshot before he deleted it again. I blacked out the info, because while I'm sure this is not Rick Springfield's ID, the Los Angeles address on the card no doubt belongs to someone, and I wanted to protect the privacy of whoever it is. I also noticed that the ID lists Rick Springfield as 5'8" tall, weighing in at 120 pounds. Riiiiiiiiight. 

Below: fake Rick Springfield thinks I'm foxy. Funny coincidence, because....

....it's actually a photo of Rick Springfield's wife! 

I think I put my finger on why these scammers irk me so much; they're a special blend 

of stupid and evil, kind of like Donald Trump and his terrible children. 

Above: while I think Rick Springfield looks amazing for being 70+ years old, I don't believe that hair is real. No septuagenarian has hair that lush. It's gotta be a hairpiece--at least in the front--hence my wig comment. Still, as hairpieces go, it's pretty convincing. 

Wouldn't you agree?

Below: after I decline to show him an ID card, the guy vamooses, expressing doubts about my realness. Well, BYE BITCH! Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya! Then I blocked and deleted, natch.

While we're on the subject, I'm posting my favorite Rick Springfield song. The video is a complete mess, but Rick looks smokin' hot and there's no denying his fabulosity here. The song is from the 1984 flick "Hard To Hold," which is a really stinky movie and it should come as no surprise to anyone that I own it on DVD. Can't help it, I love me some '80s cheese. In Rick's memoir Late, Late at Night he wrote about how he knew "Hard To Hold" was a piece of shit and was so disgusted by the script that he threw it across the room after he read it, but then his agent said, "Dude, they want to pay you a million dollars," and then he reconsidered his opinion right quick. By the way, I definitely recommend his book, it's one of the funniest and most honest memoirs I've read. 

FUCK, I'M DYING.

Well not literally, and hopefully not for a few more decades. But, Christ, I feel like I am. 

I really thought I could do it. I thought I could be one of the few lucky ones to dodge the COVID bullet, but all my hopes went straight down the crapper when I tested positive after a full day of trying to cough up both my lungs. My first test was negative and I thought, ha! Just a cold after all. People still get colds, right? Of course they do! That's why it's called the common cold---it's common! Then my symptoms got steadily worse; pounding head, fiery throat, muscle aches, my whole body was screaming. So I did another test and then.....BAM. Positive. 

I went to a mini family reunion last weekend in Tulsa, so no big mystery where I caught this crap. Everyone was vaccinated and boosted--there was much discussion about it beforehand, so we know this for sure---but I guess I have what could be called a breakthrough case. Apparently there's an Omicron offshoot called the BA.5 going around and it's the latest thing in viruses, so at least I'm au courant. 

So that's it, that's all, that's the post. If you need me, I'll be quarantining in the upstairs guestroom, trying not to infect the world. At least I have a furry little Siamese nurse to take care of me.    

Little Stevie Nicks. Her sister Sabrina is at the bird watching window.

ALSO, this seems apropos, because when I think back on what COVID was like, 

I'll remember this fucking headache.