Warning about the Possible Identity Theft of Daniel Allyn

This is not the article I would like to have written as my first article of the year, but I really think I should share so that anyone lucky enough to read this can be alerted to a possible identity theft of a fairly important man in the world of military politics. If the man who was in contact with me is actually General Allyn, and I have posted classified information, please have someone in command contact me through official channels.

On Thanksgiving Day of 2015, I received an invitation to become a contact of a man who claimed to be Daniel Allyn. His profile photo was of a man in military clothing. When I saw the request, I said, “Who are you?” he replied, “Daniel Allyn”. I thought well, duh, that I can read on my own. I said, “Yes, that’s obvious, but WHO are you? Why should I accept?” He informed me that he was a 56 year-old man from New Hampshire and that he was, at that time, in Afghanistan.

All right, so I’m very leery of people, especially men, who I don’t know. I told him I wasn’t interested in amorous relationships (this usually stops them for a moment or three; some drop out of the conversation, while others accept this idea and keep on going. This guy was one of the latter).

The following is a copy of our conversation that day; please take note of Allyn’s grammar (not typos or possible typos—we all make typos; it’s Skype’s fault ;) ):

 

[11/26/2015 11:04:34 AM] *** Hi mary.mac ., I'd like to add you as a contact. ***

[11/26/2015 11:09:15 AM] mary.mac .: who are you?

[11/26/2015 11:10:21 AM] Daniel Allyn: I am Daniel Allyn from United  States

[11/26/2015 11:10:51 AM] mary.mac .: but why do you want me as a contact?

[11/26/2015 11:11:28 AM] Daniel Allyn: I was searching for friends then I found you

[11/26/2015 11:12:00 AM] Daniel Allyn: i just love the smile on your profile picture

[11/26/2015 11:13:59 AM] mary.mac .: Oh, I'm not accepting people I don't know. Thank you for the compliment, though--even if you don't know which of the two I am. I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving and hope you find some good friends around your age.

[11/26/2015 11:14:22 AM] Daniel Allyn: How old are you?

[11/26/2015 11:14:37 AM] mary.mac .: XX

[11/26/2015 11:14:40 AM] Daniel Allyn: I am XX years old

[11/26/2015 11:15:00 AM] Daniel Allyn: But that does not stop us from been friends

[11/26/2015 11:15:26 AM] Daniel Allyn: These are opportunities that comes once in a life time

[11/26/2015 11:15:55 AM] Daniel Allyn: Why don't you try me you wont regret been my friend

[11/26/2015 11:16:43 AM] mary.mac .: Where are you?

[11/26/2015 11:16:55 AM] mary.mac .: in the U.S., I mean

[11/26/2015 11:17:53 AM] Daniel Allyn: Why don't you add me so we can know more about ourselves

[11/26/2015 11:22:02 AM] mary.mac .: I'm not really interested in romantic friendships if that is what you are looking for. I've found the love of my life and I just don't need another.

[11/26/2015 11:22:18 AM] Daniel Allyn: I am not looking for that

[11/26/2015 11:22:36 AM] Daniel Allyn: Is any thing wrong in ask9ng for friendship

[11/26/2015 11:23:08 AM] mary.mac .: I don't know; I'll need to think about it. Right now, I'm on my way out the door.

[11/26/2015 11:23:59 AM] Daniel Allyn: okay when you come back just let me know

[11/26/2015 11:24:31 AM] mary.mac .: all right.

[11/26/2015 11:24:48 AM] Daniel Allyn: Safe Journey.

 

I really was on my way out, but, being a curious person, I looked up the name Daniel Allyn on internet when I arrived home. I was amazed, to say the least, at what I found. His Linked-in status states that he is a brigadier general while Wikipedia and Google both add that he is the 35^th Vice Chief of Staff of the U.S. Army. Other information included was correct, but that stirred up another set of questions: other than my smile (even though there was no way of him knowing which of the two people in my profile picture was me, since we are both women) Why me? Why was he looking for new friends in the first place? Here is the next section of conversation between the two of us (mostly invites from him and questions from me):

 

[11/27/2015 10:42:30 PM] mary.mac .: I have another question: Why would a Major General in the US Army, with a family, need to find  friends by looking through Skype? I'm sure you have a bevy of friends in D.C. and New Hampshire without having to look for a woman with a smile you like (even if you don't know which of the two women in my avatar is me) Please forgive me for being suspicious, but despite the goofy look on my face, I'm an intelligent person who looks very carefully before jumping.

[12/1/2015 5:56:47 PM] *** Daniel Allyn would like to add you on Skype

 

Hi mary.mac ., I'd like to add you as a contact. ***

[12/2/2015 12:07:43 AM] mary.mac .: Again?

[12/2/2015 2:33:30 PM] *** Daniel Allyn would like to add you on Skype

Hi mary.mac ., I'd like to add you as a contact. ***

[12/2/2015 2:48:55 PM] mary.mac .: Go away

[12/2/2015 2:50:47 PM] Daniel Allyn: Why do you want me to go away

[12/2/2015 2:52:18 PM] mary.mac .: Because I don't believe you are really BG Daniel Allyn. Too many grammatical errors.

 

I must admit that he took a bit of unwarranted offense at my answer. Below is a slightly watered-down version of his response which, in my mind, is not a very politically diplomatic answer…

 

[12/2/2015 2:53:13 PM] Daniel Allyn: What sort of nonsense is that

[12/2/2015 2:53:23 PM] Daniel Allyn: f*** off

[12/2/2015 8:22:56 PM] mary.mac .: Excuse me? As I recall you invited me, not the other way around. And not once, but three times. At the end of the first time I asked you a question which you didn't answer. And, also in the first conversation, there are at least 5 grammatical errors, which do not include typos. Even I make typos, mostly because skype eats letters while posting comments.

And really, there's no need to use foul language. I never used it with you.

Had that been the end of it, I probably wouldn’t have minded so much, but then, my real problems began. Fortunately for me I have an excellent Anti-Malware program on my computer. About that time, I began receiving messages that my program had blocked an inbound malicious site that originated from Skype. The port was always the same; although the IP changed from time to time, this was the most common:

 

 

If you should happen to receive an invite from said Daniel Allyn, his skype name being daniel03935 and having the above IP, block him immediately. I’ve had no more problems with the malicious website since I blocked him, so it should be sufficient.

I WOULD LIKE TO UNDERLINE THAT THIS ARTICLE IS MEANT TO BE A WARNING, BOTH FOR THE GENERAL PUBLIC AND FOR THE REAL GENERAL ALLYN. IDENTITY THEFT IS BAD FOR BOTH GROUPS, AND I MEANT NO OFFENSE FOR THE REAL GENERAL.

 

All Rights Reserved, including the reproduction in whole or in part in any form Copyright © Mary E. Purpari. January 6, 2016

‘Twas the night before Christmas—A sneak preview of Christmas in the Old McDonald’s Funny Farm

The following is a sneak preview from my second Old McDonald’s Funny Farm series. Please keep in mind that it’s a first draft; I will post a continuation in the next couple of days. I hope you will enjoy it. Please leave your thoughts and comments down below; I would love to read your opinion.
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads…”
Clement Moore’s beautiful poem The Night before Christmas, could be applied to almost every home on S.W. Orchid St. The stockings were hung, in most cases, by the Christmas tree with care, since the inland southern California climate didn’t really require a fireplace, and visions of sugarplums were dancing in most children’s heads. And most homes could also claim that not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Melody couldn’t believe it wasn’t seven o’clock yet. She thought she had been awakened by a loud banging sound, but when she looked out all she could see was that it was still very dark outside; the moon wasn’t even shining through her window, so she couldn’t even use that as an excuse, this time. She jiggled her feet; the rattling sound at the bottom of her bed let her know that at least Santa Claus had been there, so maybe she had heard Santa Claus as he was leaving; but she was still completely disoriented both by the darkness outside and her excitement about what she would find under the Christmas tree this year. She didn’t want to wake up too early and finish all the goodies in her stocking and then have to wait hours doing nothing. She mulled over the question briefly and then snuggled back down under the blankets, nestling her head comfortably in the soft fragrant pillow, her right arm draped over a purring Butterscotch.
Those delightful visions of sugarplums had barely begun dancing in her head again when she heard the loud banging once more, but this time she knew it was coming from the living room. Convinced that thieves were in the living room, trying to steal the Christmas tree and everyone’s Christmas presents (including the ones the family members had bought for each other) she shifted slowly and quietly in her bed; taking care not to awaken Jan and Butterscotch or to knock her stocking to the floor, Melody tip-toed down the hallway to the living room door, guided by the feeble light shining from under the door and started to turn the knob.
It wouldn’t turn! Frustrated, she tried peeking through the keyhole, but right then, everything went dark and she couldn’t see a thing. Worried, she turned around to walk back down the hall to wake up Honey and Ross and let them know there was a thief in the house, when suddenly she heard what sounded like tap-dancing outside in the backyard. In her hurry to reach her bedroom so she could look out her window, she forgot her caution; soon, Jan, Mark and Kenny were running to join her looking out the boys’ window as the jingling sound of sleigh bells reached their ears.
Entranced, they stared out the window, looking in all directions, trying to discover the source when suddenly they heard someone shout “Merry Christmas!” And then, they saw it! They were sure they had seen a bright red light flying across the cloudy night. They jumped up and down in excitement – they had really seen Rudolph leading the other reindeer as they pulled Santa’s sleigh! And they knew – they had seen Santa wave to them as he flew out of sight!
Their loud euphoria lasted only a few moments before they were brusquely brought back down to earth as Honey stuck her head out of her bedroom door. “What are you four doing out of bed? Santa Claus is NOT going to come if you don’t go to sleep. It’s only midnight! Now go back to bed. It’s not time to get up yet.”
 “But Mommy, Santa Claus already came! He left our stockings on the bed and we just saw him flying across the sky, with Rudolph in the front, just like the song says! Man, his nose sure is bright red! And it blinks, too!”
Honey stared at them as they danced around, nonplussed by their unexpected statement. “You saw him? With a blinking red nose?”
“We saw Rudolph’s red nose as he led the sleigh. We heard Santa Claus shout out Merry Christmas as they took off flying. Oh man, Mommy! It was so neat! Wasn’t it, you guys?” The other three cohorts in crime nodded their heads vigorously in agreement. “We really did see them. And I bet the elves were with them, too, ‘cuz I heard someone hammering in the living room, and ev’ryone knows that Santa has elves that make all the Christmas presents.” 
“Because,” Honey said absent-mindedly. The children paid no attention to the correction, but they did take her next words to heart. “If you four do not go directly to bed, there will be NO Christmas presents for you. We will give them all to the poor children without even unwrapping them. One…two…” Even before she could say three, Melody, Jan, Mark and Kenny were already under their covers, their fake snores resounding through the house, punctuated by Melody’s giggles and Butterscotch’s contented purring. Somehow, Missy and Chas managed to sleep through all the excitement.
As the snores and giggles settled into a regular breathing pattern, Honey went to their bedsides and tucked them in. Shaking her head she realized that they should have known that the mistress of curiosity would have heard the hammering and gone to investigate. Next year, though, the stockings would be the last thing to be put in place… 
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Copyright © Mary Purpari December 27, 2015

Tracking—The USPS Tennis Derby

I’ve always been a staunch supporter of the USPS, favoring them over companies like FedEx and UPS, but after this experience, I’m not quite so sure if my loyalty is well-placed.

I received a package in the mail today that I had honestly thought would, at this point, never arrive. My sister, JoAnne, had taken the package to her local Post Office in Arizona, on June 23, 2015 and presented it for 2-Day Priority Mail to Brooklyn 11208 – with tracking number and insurance - with an expected delivery date of June 25. Yes, June 25, and this is July 31; go figure.

Go figure is exactly what I did. Just out of curiosity, I went and looked up the tracking number, with the idea of seeing what cities it had been visiting during its longer than usual journey. What I found was absolutely mind-boggling, and I’m still shaking my head at the weirdness and idiocy of the entire story. Before going on, though I will admit that I have received mail that had taken a somewhat longer route than necessary: for instance, there was the time when I was living in Mistretta when we received a wedding invitation from a missionary who had served in the town; the invitation came a week after the wedding because it had come from Utah via American Samoa… We couldn’t have gone anyway, but it would have been nice to know about it so we could have been ready for them when they came to visit us during their honeymoon. But, that was International, and worse things have been known to happen. But I digress.

After JoAnne left the packet at the Post office in C.G. on the 23rd it was sent, same day, to Phoenix, which then sent it on to Bethpage, NY 11714. Forgive me for including all the New York zip codes, but you’ll see the reason why shortly. Now, packages received at Bethpage 11714 usually arrive the very same day, or the next day at the latest, at the Brooklyn 11208 P.O. and then on to my house. I have no idea what happened, but this time it arrived at the USPS facility in Lower Manhattan, 10007 (not even close to Brooklyn 11208). The next day, June 26, it arrived in New York, NY 10199 Origin Facility, about 8 blocks up the street—it was probably hand-carried. I guess it liked this particular office, or the workers were planning their next diabolical move with care, because it stayed there until July 2, when it was sent off to… Lower Manhattan 10007. I think they must have used a real snail to carry it, because it took 11 hours and 59 minutes to go those same 8 blocks.

Obviously, the package wasn’t happy there, and two days later it was back at the 10199 USPS Origin Facility. Poor thing, by this time the tennis match was in full-swing and the next day, July 6 (a little over 24 hours later) it was back in the court of the 10007 USPS facility. Lower Manhattan dropped it for a couple of days – it was the 4th of July five-day weekend, after all – but in the evening of July 8, it was back in the court of 10199.

Fast and furious, the 10007 was ready for 10199’s return serve and – a little slower than usual, for sure – it was back in 10199’s court the next evening. USPS Origin Facility 10199 was waiting for it and hit it hard and furious, a minute after it entered their court, but they hit too hard and it ended up outside the Manhattan boundaries, landing in the Brooklyn 11256 USPS Origin Facility. Close but no cigar. Outraged at their fumble, 10199 demanded that the ball…uh, I mean packet…be returned to their court: immediately! USPS Facility 11256 complied, sending it back four hours later; it arrived in 10199 just a few hours after that.

By then,  from all the heat of being served back and forth between facilities, and the ever-increasing temperatures in New York City, the packet had become more of a hot potato than a tennis ball and so, after arriving in 10199, they decided it needed time to cool off…It stayed in that facility until midnight last night, when it was finally sent to Brooklyn 11208; it arrived eight hours later—again I think it was carried by a marathon runner—and four hours after that it was on my front porch.

What kills me is that it says it was on time and that the Expected Delivery Date was Friday, July 31, 2015. Since when do the days from June 23 to July 31 add up to a 2-Day Priority? However, I have the original shipping label that says the Expected Delivery Date is June 25. I dislike tennis (I’m horrible at it) as much as I dislike time-active packets arriving 36 days late. Together, they make smoke come right out of my ears.

Have you ever had a similar experience? Do you want to tell us about it?

 

Tracking—the USPS Tennis Derby © July 31, 2015 Mary Purpari.  All Rights Reserved.

“Not my Will, but Thine be Done”

Even before we came to live on the earth, we lived on a different plane, and a great plan was unrolled before our very eyes—a plan that would help us return to live with God.

I’m not really a poet – that was Russ’ specialty – but about ten days ago a friend who teaches the adult Sunday school class in our branch asked me if I would write a brief poem about the Atonement of Jesus Christ, based on the Savior’s words during his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane. Although not quite up to par with Russ’ poems, I think it came out all right. And Beky liked it enough to ask for a copy; I told her I would publish it here, and here it is. I hope you like it:

                                                                                               

“Not my Will, but Thine be Done

 Long ago, before the Earth was born,

A council was called, and we were there.

 

 Our Father chose one to come to Earth

And save mankind,

So that we, if willing, could return.

 “Thy will be done, the glory be thine,”

he said, “not mine.”

 

He came to the Earth

– the same he had made –

And lived a perfect life,

to show us the way.

 

He loved the Earth, its flowers and trees,

Walking and teaching of his Father’s love

to all who in Him believed.

 

And when the time came

for his mission on Earth,

He felt the pull of his mortal birth;

He wished not to go:

“Not my will,” He said,

“but thine be done.”

 

He hung from that wooden cross,

And bore our shame,

So that eternal life we might claim.

 

Now, with our Father and Jesus

We can be one,

If not our will, but His be done.

 

© Mary Purpari July 5, 2015. All Rights Reserved.

Painting by Derek Hegsted 

When the Forces of Nature Won’t Let You Sleep.

I haven’t written for quite some time, and this is disgraceful. It’s not that I didn’t have time or subjects to write about; in fact, there has been an abundance of both. However, last night gave me a very good reason to write (and to laugh), because a series of crazy things combined together to disrupt my already strange sleeping habits.

As I think I’ve mentioned before, there is a considerable amount of wildlife in my neighborhood. Maybe not; I was going to write an article, but I was distracted from my purpose. Anyway, a few of my non-human neighbors plotted together to see just what they could do to keep me awake; at least their efforts, instead of putting me in a foul mood, cheered me up, mainly because I was able to fall right back to sleep.

I always go to bed late: it doesn’t matter how much I attempt to get to bed no later than midnight—preferably around 11:30—I never make it until about 12:30 – 1:00. Last night I was on top of the sheets (it was a bit too warm for anything more) at about 12:30 and fell straight to sleep. I was roused from my slumbers at 2:45 by the dulcet tones of my Kitty and our newest feral cat neighbor, Raccoon Cat (the name says it all) quarreling. Kitty’s voice is not very loud, but when she uses that tone of voice, smarter cats than Raccoon Cat turn around and run the other way. He didn’t and so, in order to keep them from waking up the entire neighborhood, I got up to see what the problem was. When I opened the door, Raccoon took off, but when I invited Kitty to come in, she ignored me; she had other things on her mind, as I discovered when she started jumping from one side of the cat carrier to the other: she had “cornered” (more like trapped) a mouse behind the carrier and that’s what the two cats had been arguing about.

Five minutes after returning to bed, and as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard a loud pounce as she pushed the carrier out of the way and captured her prey. I knew the capture had been made because it was followed by a series of terrified squeaks as the torture began… She’s a very good hunter and an even better torturer. Poor little mouse… Fortunately, I fell asleep again before the real fun and games began. And again, thank goodness the results of her prowess disappeared before I got up.

One would think, after this experience, that the denizens of my forest would let me get my beauty sleep, but alas! this was not to be; a few houses down one of the dogs must have had puppies and they decided to have a rather vociferous free-for-all. I felt like tearing out my hair as I listened to magnified growls, yips, out-and-out barking, and tussles as they fought among themselves. Their mother gave a warning growl and peace and quiet returned to the neighborhood until around five o’clock.

The sun was just beginning to conquer the moon when I was once again awakened by the inhabitants of our “woods”; angry chk,chk, chk, chks came, as it seemed, from under my bed. It wasn’t really, but when I heard another sound that I recognized as Big Bird, our red-tailed hawk, menacing the chker, I decided to get up and check things out. And there, to my sand-filled eyes, appeared a big fat squirrel holding one of my next-door neighbors’ tomatoes and threatening Big Bird with his ear-wrecking chatter. I said, “get out of there you stinky old tree rat” and he took off running, the tomato still hanging from his mouth.

Fortunately, this was the last disturbance or, if there were any others, I was fast asleep for the next few hours.

Have any others of you had close encounters of this sort, or similar, when you would rather have been sleeping?

 

© July 9, 2015 by Mary Purpari. All Rights Reserved. All photos taken by Mary Purpari.