Monday, April 20, 2009

\\\another asian williamsburg hipster grifter?

So any of you who get bored at work and read blogs and stuff may have heard of a lady by the name of Kari Ferrell, a 22-year-old from Utah who scammed her way around Brooklyn. Shorty has 6 warrants out for owing 60 g's to the feds in Utah for check fraud. (Dope!). The headlines here are: fakes cancer, uses sexuality, clever puns on her azn-ness, general patho lying, and scamming and stealing. In Utah she told a dude she was a veterinary assistant who was the victim of racial prejudice that ended with her dog being killed by a co-worker. She also claimed to join the Peace Corps and go to Mozambique.

She did things like this:

"It was also around November that a guy named Troy was at Union Pool, the Williamsburg bar, when the bartender passed him a note from another customer. It read, 'I want to give you a hand job with my mouth,' and was signed 'Korean Abdul-Jabbar.' It was, according to Troy, from Ms. Ferrell. Another time, a patron at Fabiane's, the café on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg, said Ms. Ferrell passed him a note which read: 'I want you to throw a hot dog down my hall.'" (More color here: Gawker)

The internet has gone insane with chatter about Kari though I'd like to shed light on a different hipster grifter. This hipster swindler is a dude, not a broad, and a different kind of Asian. His name is Ashoke Bondabolu and his shenanigans have made fools out of people all over Bushwick and Williamsburg. Have you seen this scammer?

Don't be fooled by the sly demeanor. He's a total con man. A real defrauder.

I was sitting at the Levy at 2 AM drinking alone in a corner when the bartender passed a note to me that read: "I want to give you a blow job with my hand" and was signed "Dune Coon McGee". I was drunk and had been questioning my sexuality at the time so I said, "what the heck" and decided to have a chat with the gouger. We ended up at my place where the beguiler ordered shit loads of sushi with a credit card number he rattled off the top of his head and told me he could get me into the Clipse concert coming up because he wrote for Blender. I believed him. Then the slicker told me if I gave him 200 bucks he could score me the dopest Meth this side of Tallahassee. Obviously I coughed up the cash and then didn't hear from him for 2 weeks. The Clipse concert passed. Eventually the welcher - this trickster of a man - sent me a message on myspace making up a bogus lie about his cell phone being out of commission and having lost his wallet with my money in it. He claimed he also lost his dusty specs, a scarf, a chain that he gave away, his belt, two hats, both of which weren't his, and a Coogi jacket he recently bought.

I don't know why I trusted someone that looked like this in the first place. Maybe it was the wild and crazy hair or the exuberant hat game:

Here's a picture of me and the con man (left). This was taken at Public Assembly where the chiseler winked at the door man, gave him a cigarette, and got us in for free to see
the Harlem Shakes and Vampire Weekend and The Cool Kids and Talib Kweli. I really love all of those bands.

Last I heard he was getting kicked out of The Wreck Room and yelling "You sure you want to kick me out of this bar? I'm in little band called POPO." He was also recently seen getting kicked out of Charleston while yelling "You sure you want to kick me out of this bar? I wrote, directed, and acted in a little movie called SUPER TROOPERS. You asshole." He has a tattoo of a broken humpty dumpty crying on the inside of his right arm and a slurpy on the back of his left arm. Don't make the same mistake I did. Ask questions.

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