LUDIC LOG

Dear Mrs. Kabila,

It was with joy and, I must admit, some degree of surprise that I received your letter of the 4th entitled "RE save our soul". The joy, as you might imagine, stemmed from your generous though slightly bewildering offer to remit to me the kingly sum of USD$11,600,000 in exchange for my aid in helping you relocate to America; the surprise stemmed from my having, to my knowledge, no connection whatsoever to you, to your family, and indeed to your entire nation of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. I am not sure -- I hope not! -- if you have mistaken me for someone else, or if you simply have read with pleasure my humble writings here on the Ludic Log and have decided that my ability to make jokes about robots is somehow indicative of my strength of character and financial acumen.

If it is the latter, I must in good conscience assure you that, while I am more than happy to aid you in any way you can, it might be in your best interests to find another partner in your endeavor. You might have surmised, based on my sophisticated way of expressing myself and my publication in a number of small-circulation magazines, that I am a person of great weath and refinement. Unfortunately, this is not the case. I work a menial, low-paying office job at a company that does metal-stamping for the automotive industry, and I do not have a bank account, let alone a valid credit card. Also, I am a high school dropout. Thus, I would be unable to provide much assistance in helping you find a "viable business", as you request. I could be of some assistance in letting you know that here in America, if you have fifty-eight million dollars, there are trained professionals -- many of them, unlike me, possessed of not only an education but also financial expertise and a checkbook -- who are more than willing to provide the aid you require, and for a much smaller fee than the eleven million you have offered me. For a mere one hundred thousand dollars, I would be happy to give you the phone number of my local branch of Smith-Barney.

However, should you be determined to use me as your partner, I am sure I could turn you on to some low-overhead, high-profit enterprises. Laundromats, for example, are a cash-rich business with very little initial investment; also, operating a parking garage is, I understand, highly profitable. Be warned, thought, that you should not follow in the footsteps of your late husband -- not only in terms of not becoming an African dictator who is ultimately gunned down by the rebel armies of neighboring nations, but also in the sense of operating a general store, which is a business that operates on razor-thin margins and requires a tremendous amount of volume buying in order to be profitable. (Allow me to interject at this point that my moral qualms about doing business with you -- the $58 million , after all, having at least in some part been the result of your President Kabila's rather unsavory mismanagement of the nation's resources -- were in some way calmed when I considered that much of that cash probably came from American aid, which in turn came from taxpayer money, which in turn was at one point at least partially mine in the first place. Some people might call this a rationalization, but those people aren't looking down the barrel of a sweet, sweet eleven and a half million smackers.)

Anent your further request that I aid you in finding a house to buy upon arrival in the United States, let me assure you that this will be no problem. Someone with thirty million dollars will have no trouble finding quality housing, even in a high-end market such as my home town of Chicago. I understand that the house next to that of Cardinal George is currently available, having been vacated by Minister Louis Farrakhan, although his tendency to wear hats similar to that of your late husband's nemisis Mobutu Sese Seko might be a deal-breaker. At any rate, chase from your mind any thoughts of not being able to find adequate housing; if there's one thing America knows how to do, it's take care of its millionaires.

Finally, while I appreciate your delicate situation as regards your husband's oldest son Joseph (try not to be too hard on him; second marriages are often difficult for the children), I am a tad perplexed at your inability to open a bank account in your own name. Though I understand he is monitoring you -- and kudos on having the foresight to use a free, web-based e-mail service that must no doubt be difficult for him to trace -- I would imagine that the securities company in Togo where your massive deposits of cash are stored would be able to set up a shell account, perhaps in the name of one of your children. Alas, I will be unable to help you in this regard (draconian banking laws and my own rather tetchy credit history make a bank account of my own a very distant dream), and in fact will have to ask you to "front" me, as we say here in America, the cost of a plane ticket to Togo, unless you're talking about the sandwich shop. Ha ha! Just a little American-style humor there. I find it helps get me through the day.

Looking forward to sharing your first American beers with you (you're buying), I remain,

Your humble servant,

Leonard A. Pierce, Jr.