My friends can’t believe it. All they ever get is junk e-mail—baldness cures, coupons from Internet casinos, scams from online stockbrokers. They say, “How come nobody ever wants my help? I’d do it. I could receive the thirty million.” I say, “Look, don’t take it personally.” The thing is, people trust me. They know that for me, it’s not about the money. I just feel good about myself whenever I help a widow get her hands on the nest egg her late husband squirreled away, when a smile crinkles the face of an elderly generalissimo who learns that his life’s savings have been converted to bullion that is stashed where class-action lawsuits won’t ever find it.