by Mark Perez
FOSTER A CHILD
Notice I didn’t say adopt. When you try to adopt a kid under pretense (and believe me, I’ve tried), they make you fill out a bunch of useless paperwork and then do a ton of tedious interviews about why you have a burning desire to raise somebody else’s mistake. But conversely, when you want to take in a foster, they check you for a pulse, make sure you’re not a registered member of NAMBLA (The North American Man/Boy Love Association—yes, it really exists), and then they deliver the little inbreed right to your door. Like you had just ordered an extra-large pizza with all the toppings. And if there is one thing that endears you to a community more than becoming a stepdad, it’s becoming a foster dad. Most people don’t want their own kids, let alone a stranger’s. So kudos to you, friend!
Once the foster kid has arrived, you immediately need to parade him around town like he was a three-legged dog on fire. Oh, and make sure to get a kid with some color to him. White kids will always get you less sympathy, unless it’s a white kid with a disability. Those are guaranteed money in the bank, too. The point being: the less socially desirable the child, the more advantageous it is as a cover. Again, be creative here!
HAVE AN ACTUAL BABY
Don’t do this one. My own father disappeared on me constantly (as I’ve already stated numerous times). But as hard as he tried to unload me, he always ended up coming back. I mean, look where he ended up in this story so far. Back with me! I guess it’s biological or something. Also, having your own kid just takes too long. Like nine months, from what I understand. So instead, you can just do what I did in Honest, Indiana…
PAY A JUVENILE DELINQUENT TO BE YOUR SON
The sidewalks are littered with people’s forgotten dreams. They’re also littered with homeless teens who’ll do just about anything you could imagine for five hundred bucks. When you first pitch him (the street kid, I mean) that all he needs to do is move to some picturesque town, where he’ll sleep in a warm bed, eat three square meals, and not get molested every night, he will be inherently skeptical. But after some convincing, and half the cash upfront, he’ll be more than psyched.
Looking back on things, Tommy (not his real name) and I bonded almost immediately. He was a lot like me, when I thought about it. He had an “uncommon” upbringing. He faked his way through school. His dad was never around, and when he was, he was fucking horrible to him. Oh, and he had my eyes. Note: When you can choose between casting somebody as a rube or a roper (that means making somebody a teammate rather than an opponent), always go with the roper. Instead of trying to trick the kid, I got him on my side. Which, as it turns out, is way easier to do with somebody as street smart as a child hobo. Look, it’s just human nature. If somebody has a monetary stake in a scam, then they’re going to go above and beyond to make sure it goes off without a hitch. And that’s exactly what little Gabe Jr. did (not his name).
Now, with my proverbial guns loaded, I was on my way. I had built a reputation as a sensational guy and a respectable family man. I hit all the boxes that are important to most of these simpleton types. I embodied all the nonsense that people believe actually matters in this world, like “character” and “loyalty” and “trust.” Snoooooze. You see, to any accomplished con man, these aren’t qualities. They are weaknesses. Vulnerabilities that need to be exploited, not celebrated. It’s the American Way. If you recall, the Indians were an honorable and virtuous people, too. And look what good it did them.
That’s why you want to be the Pilgrim in this life, and not the Indian. Everybody knows those gangster-ass Pilgrims were the real savages.
And if you really want to hold some sway over vast swaths of people, there’s something else you need to do…
GET ELECTED TO SOMETHING AND ABUSE YOUR POWER
In every facet of civilization, if you make the rules, then you’re in the best position to break the rules. They say the most effective thieves in the world are the ones donning suits, not masks. This is also true for military uniforms, judges’ robes, reverends’ collars, and—don’t delude yourself—the craven charlatans we elect every other November. You know, the ones who are supposed to protect us from all the supposed bad in society? My question is this: who the hell can we vote for to protect us from them? No. Body. I tell you this because if you ever start to feel guilty about following the guidance of this book, don’t. Because for every scheme and deceit you’ve got running out in the world, the powers that be have got some ten thousand or more running back on you. Karma, my nuts.
Below I’ve listed a few ways to help get you into a power position in Small Town, USA. (Remember, the town can work as a placeholder for anything. You can swap it with a company, charity, social group, etc.)
GET ELECTED TO SOMETHING
Sorry to repeat myself, but among the least trustworthy people on earth, politician places at number two, right in front of professional con man and right behind religious leader. And in an arena this size, while the prestige may seem less, the access to the town’s assets are greater (and dare I say more important). You see, being named constable, superintendent, or councilman is a big deal in one of these shitkicker whistle stops. And that’s because most dimwits want to be told what to do and how to live. Shit, we claim to be the “land of the free,” but really we’re the home of the “tell us what to think.” From jewelry commercials to appointed officials. From unsubstantiated retweets to your racist uncle’s email forwards. We Americans love to be instructed as to what their opinions should be. So if you can achieve a level of power where you can use these inherent public weaknesses to your advantage, then you can steal everything from their Apple stocks to their knee socks.
START A NONPROFIT
Another thing people like, aside from being told what to do, is being told that what they do is good. Like my dad always said, “Playing into a person’s pathetic self-worth is a great way to gain the upper hand with them, dipshit.” And humans tend to believe that anyone who feeds the hungry or accompanies some inner-city throwaways to some shitty baseball game is invariably ethical, moral, and noble. And when you donate your hard-earned money to them or entrust your children with them, you assume they will do right by you. So in turn, you get to feel altruistic in absentia.
But truth be told, there are no Good Samaritans in today’s world. And that’s because there never really were any to begin with. People always look to get something for themselves out of the deal. Famous organizations that broadcast telethons or local nonprofits that ring their bells outside your supermarket—they all spend less than a quarter of your well-intentioned donations on the actual causes they’re promoting. (And those are the good ones!) The rest of that money goes to “administrative costs,” also known as: vacation homes, luxury sports cars, and droves of Honduran nannies.
So really, a “fake charity” is an oxymoron because, to one degree or another, they’re all fake.
UNCOVER A MADE-UP CRISIS
One of my personal favorites. Outsider arrives in town to investigate a conspiracy and ends up miraculously saving the town, à la Erin Brockovich. This time you will need to say you’re working for either the New York Times or the Washington Post, and then chat up a few yokels. Inform them that you’re there to do some secret undercover research about fracking or carbon pollution or whatever currently en vogue environmental issue everyone’s feigning concern over. And before long, you’ll be speaking in front of their very own city council like it’s the second-to-last scene in Footloose.
Or you could do what I did when I weaseled my way into the hearty embrace of the town that I was about to screw over. In Honest, Indiana, I chose to…
BECOME THE TOWN SAVIOR
What does that mean exactly, town savior? Well, in these economically uncertain times, it means everything. If you do a little research on the Internet, you will quickly find that most small towns are financially insolvent, primarily because of two things: (1) There is no middle class in America anymore, and (2) these towns are generally run by a group of
idiots. The intelligent few that were unlucky enough to be born there either moved to a city of some distinction, or they shot themselves in the face with a pistol. And because of such events, these places are often left utterly vulnerable.
Which is how I was able to become a town savior in Honest. I established a nonprofit that purportedly raised a ton of money to help local farmers in similar small towns (it did not). I exposed a major discrepancy in the local government’s financial recordkeeping in respect to their farm subsidies (there was none). I formulated a plan to “resolve” the problem I had fucking made up in the first place! Then, I officially became the town savior when the mayor appointed me town comptroller. Because of my perceived business acumen and overtly honorable nature, Mayor Hamilton (not his name) decided to make me a person of authority in his precious little fiefdom. And voilà! I was in.
What is a comptroller, you ask? Well, while it sounds like the official title of your company’s nerdy IT guy, it’s a more powerful position than most people think. And those are precisely the gigs you want to be given. Low profile, high results. I want you to commit that last phrase to memory. LOW PROFILE, HIGH RESULTS. That one’s a biggie.
Another important lesson to recognize is that the most important man in the world is not the president. No. It’s the person who controls the president’s staff. While the commander in chief is out shaking hands with the prime minister of Canada and making speeches about the endlessly rising oceans and CO2 levels (neither of which he or she’s ever really going to address), the gentleman or lady behind the president is the one actually running the country. The same is true of any small town. Everybody may want to be the mayor, but usually that asshole’s biggest responsibility is cutting the ribbon at a new Target. Or judging the homemade marmalade contest at the county fair. Meanwhile, the seemingly less enviable position of town comptroller usually includes doing all of the bookkeeping. And by bookkeeping, I mean laundering. And by laundering, I don’t mean your fucking dress shirts.
HOW TO EMBEZZLE MONEY AS A TOWN COMPTROLLER
Start a city bank account for something vaguely innocuous called a “renewal project.”
Create a phony draft from the state paying for the project that you just made up.
Write a check out of that bank account to yourself, immediately “renewing” your lifestyle.
Disappear like a fart in the breeze before the inevitable citywide audit arrives.
If this all sounds simple, it’s because, well…it is. Municipalities just don’t have enough resources to support an effective checks-and-balances system. Which allows a person like me to write checks to himself and balance the difference on the ass of John Q. Taxpayer. Easy breezy. See, back when that mayor appointed me comptroller, (after the last one resigned in disgrace), he had no idea that he had just given me the combination to his safe. The key to his hope chest. The code to his little town’s fucking ATM. It had all worked so perfectly, it stunned even me. And after I gained access, the cash was just sitting there, waiting to be taken. And I was the perfect one to do it. So I quickly created a fake “Community Parks Fund.” The city council approved it without so much as taking a vote. And soon I was siphoning cash into the account, laundering it with no credible oversight, and filling my own personal till to my heart’s content. Like I said, this shit was just too easy! My plan was working to perfection. My dad was back in my life. I had a hot girl by my side, who I actually liked! And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged. And as cynical as I am, it felt pretty damn good, I must admit.
But as Pops always used to tell me, “Stealing the money ain’t the hard part, dipshit. Hiding it—that’s the real pickle.”
REMEMBER NOT TO BE WHITE-TRASH RICH
Avery quick way to get others to dislike you is to flaunt your wealth in their faces (see any show on the Bravo network). If you’re swiping money from your boss, drive a beater to work. If you’ve squirreled away money from your ex-wife, certainly don’t wear your new gold Submariner to the arbitration hearing. And if you’re robbing every nickel from a place that’s already deep in the hole, be sure to play more downtrodden than the lowly townspeople you supposedly represent.
I’m sure you’re thinking, “A whole chapter on acting poor? 99 percent of the world acts poor every day—how hard can it be?”
Well, contrary to popular belief, it can be quite hard. These hustles can take a great deal of man-hours to fully perpetrate. During which time, after some of the green starts flowing in, you’ll inevitably find yourself going crazy hankering to spend your winnings but knowing you’ll get pinched if you do. (And you will eventually get pinched. Trust me on that one.) So here’s a list of critical dos and don’ts to help you touch the money you’ve pilfered from others and still remain in their good graces. Again, I would argue that spending the money wisely is as, or more, difficult than looting it is. So…
Don’t…
BUY A GIANT HOUSE
This is a total dickhead move that seems obvious to anybody with half a brain, but you’d be surprised how many idiots squander their first big score on an enormous abode they couldn’t normally afford. It’s this type of neophyte action that will get you busted a hundred out of a hundred times. We get it. You’ve lived in a dilapidated trailer your whole life and now you want to live it up. Well, you’ll be living it up in a five-by-nine cell if you buy the phatest crib on the block, P. Diddy.
Do…
PIMP OUT A DUMP
Remember when you were young and grownups would say, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts?” While this was usually said to appease the ugly kids, it’s especially true when it comes to enjoying a hustle. Find a sufficient place to squat. Then rent a U-Haul. Drive to a distant Costco. Fill the truck with the necessary amenities and accouterments that will make your stay in this toilet bowl of a town as comfortable as possible. Finally, pull into your new place of residence (or trailer park equivalent) and unload all of your goodies in the middle of the night.
Next, hire a couple of illegal aliens at a nearby Home Depot to wire, carry, or hang whatever you need wired, carried, or hung. (I specify “illegal aliens” here only because it’s best to employ people who don’t speak English in these types of situations; this allows you to hold la migra over their heads.)
Don’t…
BUY A JERKOFF CAR
What’s a jerkoff car? Simply put, anything with two seats, a price tag over $100,000, and/or ever owned by Jay Leno. The “Hey, look at me! I’m a total needle-dick!” rides. You know exactly what type of automobiles I’m talking about, so don’t make me explain it. People only buy these cars because (1) they want their neighbors to feel worse about themselves than they already do, or (2) they have what medical doctors call “microphalluses.” I’ve never really been a fan of the jerkoff car, per se. It’s impractical. No room for groceries. And who cares if your whip can do 220 mph? You live in America, genius. Seventy-five is as much as we do here. There’s no Autobahn to “open it up” on in Shithole, Missouri. But if you must have one of these ridiculous toys…
Do…
BUY A BEATER FOR THE WEEKDAYS
DRIVE A BENZ ON THE WEEKENDS
Being a total fraud in life takes supreme discipline. Most people aren’t aware of that fact. They get in The Game thinking it’s all VIP tables and bottles of Cristal. But you have to forever be thinking. Forever be on. Forever be on the lookout for something that might trip you up. And the one thing that will inevitably cause a misstep in your con man career (or as your average Regular Joe Fucktard on the street just trying to get by) is being yourself. Forget what your high school guidance counselor told you repeatedly during your senior year. Never, ever be yourself. It’s the absolute worst thing you could do. Remember: Honesty is NEVER the best policy. So…
Don’t…
UPGRADE YOUR LADY
This is a classic rookie move when a man ups his means (also the case when a woman tries to upgrade her fella, albeit less common because men
are notoriously worse in this department). As much as you might want to jettison the average-looking wife or 5½ girlfriend who doesn’t fit your current lifestyle, you must not do this. It’s a giant red flag to those around you. People see a gross dude walking around with a supermodel, they draw one of two conclusions: (1) They’re witnessing some sort of sanctioned kidnapping, or (2) the repugnant dude is stupid rich. So whatever you do, don’t be the wealthy, ugly guy.
Do…
UPGRADE YOUR VACATIONS
I’m sure you’ve heard ad nauseam the phrase What happens in Vegas stays in Vegaszzzzzz. Excluding STDs and Drunk and Disorderlies, this corny saying happens to be completely true. It also holds true for most far-off destinations. I always go by the following steadfast rule: if you are going to cheat on your wife or spend money that you’ve “borrowed” from others, without fail do it at least three thousand miles away from your current home. Could be Hawaii. Could be Europe. Doesn’t matter really. As long as you’re doing it outside the continental US.