Americans are about as popular around the world today as the president of your high school A.V. Club. Our nation's tireless exporting of bombs -- whether from the bellies of war planes or the film catalog of Jennifer Lopez -- has made us personae non gratae. That's Greek for "people who can name every character on 'Lost' but can't find South America on a map."

Given other nations' negative view of us, I was pleasantly surprised to receive word of a generous business opportunity the other day from Dr. Sultan Abdul of the auditing and accounting department of the Credit Bank Benin in the Cotonou Republic of Benin. This sounds like one of those countries your smart--aleck uncle would make up -- like when he claimed he served at a Navy base in the Republic of Wang Chung -- but is in fact a real place located in Africa.

"Dear ___," the doctor's e-mail message began. (I always appreciate the personal touch.) "I have decided to contact you on a business transaction that will be very beneficial to both of us."

Such an opportunity would come as great news to any American during this difficult economic time. A lot of people have lost jobs, and those who managed to remain employed haven't had raises in years. And nobody's making money on the stock market. That is, except for the corporate CEOs nestled in the comfort of their golden parachutes.

"During our investigation and auditing in this bank, my department discovered a very big sum of money belonging to a deceased person who died in a plane crash," Sultan continued, "and since his untimely death the funds has been dormant in his account with this bank without any claim."

What a unique opportunity: A chance to take part in an international fraud and money-laundering scheme! Now I know what being in the mob feels like.

"Although personally, I keep this information secret within myself and partner to enable the whole plans and idea be profitable and successful during the time of execution. The said amount was U.S. $21.4 million."

If this deal goes through, I'll insist that Sultan set aside $300 for "Hooked on Phonics." Still, he handles English better than I would Yoruba or Bariba, which are not herbal supplements, but prominent languages in the Cotonou Republic of Benin.

But back to the deal: Sultan asked me to claim the deceased's funds as the next of kin. Then the money would be transmitted into my bank account. After I give him my account number, of course.

"May I at this point emphasize that this transaction is 100 percent risk-free as I have made arrangements for a successful arrangement as an insider of the bank before contacting you," Sultan wrote, offering me a 30 percent cut of the take.

"Please, you have been advised to keep this a top secret as we are still in service and intend to retire from service after we conclude this deal with you," he continued. "I have worked hard for two years now trying to gather all the required information about this deceased customer after I found out that all his supposed next of kin are dead. I also got into his security file jacket in this bank and got all needed information about his account and all information his next of kin should know."

Let's review: My would--be business partner breached professional ethics -- not to mention a client's trust -- and plans to "retire" as soon as our deal is done. Nothing suspicious there!

It's reassuring to know that some foreigners are reaching out to us, rather than hopping aboard the anti-American bandwagon. Just think how popular I'll be in the Cotonou Republic of Benin after I send my new pal Sultan my account number. Maybe they'll nominate me for president of the A.V. Club.

Send columnist Ben Bromley scam offers at bbromley@capitalnewspapers.com.

(Nov. 20, 2008)