Ha...ha...ha... gotcha!

The imagined intimated response

linkedin to a swindler's

imagined thought bubble

silently spouting you ain't nothing

but a pluperfect sucker...

rendered penniless suffered

courtesy a financial blow

now left forced to eat crow

forfeiting every last red cent,

plus if applicable escrow

being analogous to an indentured servant

denied luxury and security of nest egg,

hence peace of mind to forego

pipe dreams given the heave-ho

resigned to dig up potatoes in Idaho

for peanuts and forced to panhandle

every now and again summon forth

plucking heartstrings of passersby

playing blues on the banjo

courtesy an anonymous Joe

such tramp winning

the PowerBall bajillion lotto

suddenly thrust into the spotlight

taking back the mean streets

the antithesis of Mister Rogers' neighborhood

videre licet aggressive manifesto,

and especially seeking vengeance

upon head(s) of miscreant swindlers,

who hoodwinked him now

said rags to riches antagonist

able, eager, ready and willing

to purchase quite a residence in Oswego

perched upon mountainous plateau

no longer forced to wander

aimlessly the streets of skid row

instrumental presenting slideshow

glorifying the upside of gentrification

to figuratively rescue

from urban blight undertow

of course with

the current Trump administration

such socially progressive programs

expected to be axed

no questions vis a vis veto.

"What in the name of Sam Hill"

(an early 19th-century American slang phrase,

a minced oath, meaning "What in the hell"

or expressing exasperation, surprise, or irritation)

blurted out time and again

when a heist (courtesy virtual den of thieves)

preys upon pitiful checking and savings accounts

not once, but countless times

necessitating me to change user name and password

(which measures seem minimally effective

to deter cyberpunks to ransack ala electronically

the scant money snatched

right under my figurative nose

not unlike taking candy from a baby

necessitating replacing Citizens Bank debit card,

but in record time unconscionable malfeasance

finds me in a lather

when for the umpteenth time

I experience monetary chicanery

and in a nutshell bemoan

these figurative bloodhounds

on a mission (not very impossible)

to hold a figurative gun to head, and rob me blind

lending heft to the maxim

a (this) fool and his money soon parted

seriously this fake Norwegian bachelor farmer

to end his life once and for all

during the spate of bitterly cold weather

jumping headlong into

the frigid waters of Lake Woebegone

which prompted me to flesh out the above scenario,

which hypothetical scenario I wrote

and posted countless poems and prose

excoriating the villainous misdeeds

perpetrated courtesy twenty first century

mean spirited unceasing continual predators,

whose net impact finds me

to sequester myself as a troglodyte

which nightmare scenario repeated time and again

whereby yours truly continuously targeted

at the unwelcome receiving end

while nonchalantly traversing the webbed wide world

unwittingly being tracked like some animal

oblivious to the cruel trickery

and before escaping the clutches of entrapment

fleeced and left to the fates

to succumb and grovel

amidst the emotional rubble

that formerly housed a coveted nest egg

that got stolen condemning me and the wife

to hand to mouth existence

barely able to maintain meeting the costs of living

though thankful to receive social security disability

as saving grace yet all eyes and ears

being hyper vigilant against depredations

vis a vis with malicious intent to defraud

any unlucky victim caught in the crosshairs

habitually yielding with passivity

versus blocking emails and telephone numbers

and/or simply ceasing to respond

to false promises of instant wealth

which always seems too good to be true

misled by false prophets whose aim

to dangle false profits.