There’s something very, very wrong with my extended family. They’re all from Windsor, Ontario, which is across the river from Detroit (strike one) and they’re all just completely fucked in the head. My Dad moved away when he was a kid and he turned out normal and successful, so maybe it’s something in the water, I don’t know.
Anyway, today I would like to aubmit, for the Doper’s consideration, my Uncle John. His name really is John, actually.
My Uncle John is a really nice guy but he’s such a sucker P.T. Barnum would have been shocked. I am not talking about your regular run-of-the-mill sucker here. He is not merely gullible. He is gullible to the point of it being a mental problem.
In the last five years my uncle has been involved in every pyramid scam, Ponzi scheme, get-rich-quick plan and Internet fad that has existed in the free world. You name it, he’s into it. A SHORT sample follows:
Amway. He’s been into Amway. We all know about Amway, I guess. Someday I’ll tell the story of the day I, Rickjay the Skeptic, went to an Amway meeting. You’ll all be on the floor, I guarantee it.
The People’s Network. The People’s Network, or TPN, was a pyramid scam that sold satellite dishes. Really. Now, I am sure you’re all wondering, “Hey, Rick, satellite dishes are cool and all but I can get them without going through a pyramid scam, though of course your Uncle John got the added beenefit of being a distributor' and making a fortune,’ ha ha ha ha.”
True - but this way you get an extra channel, The People’s Network. (Duh.) If there’s TV in hell, my friends, they show TPN and nothing else. TPN is - I swear to Christ Almighty I am not making this up - management consultants, pop therapists and motivational speakers twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year. And I’m not talking about technical experts of big CEOs like Jack Welch - I’m talking about guys who make Tony Robbins look like Albert Einstein. Holy moly.
I can prove the existence of TPN because I have several hours of videotaped programming. My family (this is true, I swear) sometimes takes them out and watches them for laughs, guffawing and insulting the idiots that lurch onscreen. If you want a copy, let me know. It’s funnier than anything else you can rent.
Herbal remedies were the next in line. He got into some kind of pyramid scam involving selling herbal remedies. Like most of these scams, of course, the money was in selling distributorships, no the products themselves. But the thing was he was apparently contractually obligated to not sell the products AT ALL, just distributorships. So when he ranted to my dad about how this new remedy would help him and my Dad finally said “Fine, send me a bottle of it,” he wasn’t allowed to. (My Dad, needless to say, declined to become a distributor.)
It’s somewhat unrelated, but I cannot help but notice that everyone who really seriously got into this herbal rememdy thing (we had other friends into this particular scam) was really, really obsessed with the bowels. Psychoanalyze that.
The Internet Scam of All Time Last year my uncle got into the most transparent internet scam of all time. The business was something called “PRSI” which I think stood for “Professional Resource Systems International.” This firm was selling distributorships in some sort of highly complex pyramid scam involving Web TV. My uncle asked me to do an “analysis” of this new business (developing new business lines is my job) and as God is my witness I couldn’t even understand the material. It was hilariously bad. The compensation system was indecipherable. The technology advertised was pure science fiction. He fell for it. The company’s literature was pathetic; I don’t know how it could fool anyone.
I explained to my uncle that PRSI was a scam of the most colossal and obvious nature, that the literature was utter nonsense, that the company’s owners were liars and weasels, and that any money he invested in it would be lost. He was furious at me. I was not a visionary, he said. I was “Just a kid” who didn’t understand. (He’s 52, I’m 28. He lives with his mother. I don’t.) I laughed at him.
Then, earlier this year, PRSI was raided by the cops and their ENTIRE ownership group was hauled off to jail. I never did ask my uncle if he sent them his money. I don’t really want to know.
Those phone machines. Remember that episode of “The Simpsons” where Homer buys a machine that phones numbers at random and gives a sales pitch, and he gets people to send two bucks to “Happy Guy” but gets busted or something? My uncle - actually, two of my uncles - were into those things years ago. They lost everything. Of course.
My uncle has held down a million jobs. He was a real estate broker, and failed. He managed stores and restaurants. He was into a fencing company. He quit them all, mostly because he doesn’t like working. Now he sponges off my aging grandmother, who has no money and is living off her CPP and my grandfather’s war pension.
Now he’s come back to me and asked about some other schemes. And now I learn he’s turned down some job offers! FUCK!
I sympathize with him, really. He’s 52 and divorced and his daughter is married and lives far away. But I mean, holy jumping shitbeans, how do people fall for these getrichquick schemes again and again and again? I can understand once if you don’t have a really solid command of economics and you’re a little too trusting. Maybe twice. But four, five, six, seven times? How many times do you have to get kicked in the head before you conclude that boots and skulls are not a good mix? How many times is he going to blow the few dollars he can scrouge up on brutally obvious scams? WTF? Does anyone else have people like this in their family or it is just me?
And what the fuck do I do? I patiently explain to him, again and again, “No, this is not good. Here are some fundamental business reasons why this is bad.” He doesn’t understand them, or doesn’t want to, I dunno. I have to have respect, he’s my uncle. I can’t say “Why don’t you fucking listen to me this time? Or your big brother (my Dad)? Didn’t we tell you about this the last seventy thousand times they took your money? Wake up, you goddamned nitwit! Get a fucking job!” I have to be patient. And I KNOW he’s draining my grandmother (with the assistance of his other Windsor-based ne’er-do-well siblings, who are all reprobates and gambling addicts) of all her money, and he keeps hitting my Dad up for more, and try as he might he cannot get power of attorney to prevent them from stealing everything. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!
