It’s that special time of year again! 18-year-olds think they’re adults, free from their parents (until they run out of money or clean laundry). Twenty-two (or 25)-year-olds are amazed that the time went by so quickly. 34-year olds either (1) can’t believe they haven’t finished the dissertation they started working on 8 years ago; or (2) can’t F*CK*NG believe they’re now FACULTY!!!
I’m pretty sure the 22-y-o’s have it best.
I am fortunate enough to have good friends in each of the life stages described above. And I congratulate each of them heartily.
I skipped my master’s and law school gradjiations. I think that by the time I turned in my thesis, or finished my last exam, or whatever, I was just DONE. I knew I’d earned the degree. I didn’t need to dress up in funny hats to realized what I’d accomplished. Now that it seems like everyone but me gets a funny hat, I think I might have missed out...
But I’m kind of a butthole. I find myself envying my friends for whom graduation means something big. Apparently being “hooded” means something different in academia than in the Klan… Nice.
My comments now are mostly addressed to the new faculty, who were once my classmates, my beer pong opponents, my truly valued friends: Congratulations to each of you! I hope you enjoy the ceremony and party well afterward. Some of you are now leaders at institutions I’ve left, some at institutions I’ve loved – all finding your own directions as some of the Smartest Nerds In America! I respect and envy you all!
CAC loves you, and wishes each of you the very best. I am jealous of your regalia. Nice threads, my friends.
Friday, May 15, 2009
An Open Letter to Nicholas Provetti
First and foremost, how on earth did you, Mr. Provetti, Sr. get those seats? (Nicholas, is your dad single? He may be an a_ _ wipe, but I could accept that in exchange for floor seats next to the bench!) I would KILL – probably literally – to get floor seats next to the bench at a playoff game. Any playoff game. But especially a hotly contested matchup between two Eastern Conference powerhouses brawling it out for the chance to take on King James’s Cavs and maybe, just maybe, fleebin Kobe’s _______________ __________’in __________ Lakers. (Unless of course the Rockets have their way…)
Nicholas – may I call you Nick? – you are an extraordinarily lucky kid. I hope you deserve those floor seats. And you should probably deeply appreciate the fact that your father got you those tix.
Nick, you should know that Big Baby Davis put on a clinic in What Hard Work Means To Me. Seriously, your middle school counselor should take down that worn “Hang In There” poster of the kitty and put up a poster of Big Baby Davis freaking out after winning the game. Because he won the game through pure, old fashioned, hard work.
I know you’re a Magic fan. (We can talk about the wisdom of that choice later. For now, I’ll take the situation as it is.) So I truly understand the heartbreak of the buzzer beater loss. I’ve loved the Celtics since 1984, so – believe me – I understand heartbreaking loss. But this “teachable moment” is bigger than one game. It’s about Saving America. America truly believes in the idea of pulling oneself up by ye olde bootstraps. And even if that’s a myth, it’s a damn useful myth, kiddo!
When Baby was playing at LSU,[1] he was often compared to Shaq. I think that means the media and the analysts mostly thought he was big and slow, but capable of blocking up the lane without getting a 3-sec violation and catching the occasional rebound. And hitting 50% or more of his free throws.
Doc Rivers (an absolute ______in’ genius at developing talent[2]) told Glen to do nothing all summer but practice his jump shot. And so he did. I still remember the first time I saw Big Baby knock down a 13-foot jumper. When he did it again, I started calling people trumpeting the fact that the Celts had this new weapon. And when he started hitting them consistently, from 15 to 17 feet, I sat back, shut up, and let his game speak for itself.
And then, the unbelievable buzzer beater. Orlando actually defended that play pretty well. Of course they covered Ray Allen.[3] Of course they double-teamed Paul Pierce. No one thought Glen Davis would take the final shot – no one except Glen Davis and Doc Rivers. Because they knew how hard he’d worked and how this team would need it.
And right after the Payoff Shot – the payoff for all his hard work – he completely lost it!!! Can you imagine hitting the buzzer beating, playoff game winning jump shot? And we all saw how Davis tried to avoid running into a ref, and as a result, he bumped you. Holy crap, man!!! The guy who won the game TOUCHED YOU! I BET HE’D SIGN THAT CAP YOU WERE WEARING!!! If you have no reason to believe in anything else, you could sell the damn hat on Ebay and start saving for your college education.
I’m sorry your dad made a giant stink. His team lost. (I read somewhere that he “used to be” a Celtics fan. Here’s another life lesson: LOYALTY COUNTS. Ask your dad to explain exactly when he stopped being a Celts fan. If it was during the very long lean years, you can ask him what it means to be a fair weather friend.)
I will take the high road and not draw any conclusions about whether your dad is a racist. Most people who compare black men – even professional basketball players! – to “raging animals” in this millennium are called racists. (To be fair, ESPN has gotten away with it. I’ve heard their commentators state that certain black Southern football players “know the difference between sic and get ‘em.” Apparently it’s okay in Los Angeles studios to compare Southern black athletes to animals.[4])
According to the Orlando Sentinel, your dad has since apologized – to Davis and to Danny Ainge. And that’s great. I think it’s great that Davis apologized to (you and) your dad. But has your dad apologized to you? He claimed in front of the entire nation that you were “embarrassed” by Big Baby’s actions. Really?? Or was it more embarrassing for your dad to be a giant A- - Wipe in the worldwide media? No offense to you, Nick, but your dad pretty much gave you a swirly that will be remembered by EVERYONE WHO WATCHES THE NBA PLAYOFFS.
That sucks, kiddo. But there is a silver lining for you and for every 12-year-old who has a dumb, publicity- (and probably lawsuit-) hungry loser as a parent: this will be AWESOME ammunition in a few years when you have a really good reason to rebel! Dad tries to give you sh*t about anything at all, telling you that whatever you are upset about isn’t a big deal, remind dad about how he made WORLDWIDE NEWS about how much it sucks to have floor seats at a playoff game with his kid.
Then remind him how he walked uphill through the snow to school when he was your age. Then steal his car and flip him off as you drive away.
Nick, best of luck to you. And I hope you enjoy the rest of the playoffs. If you know where to get floor seats next to the bench at the Garden for Game 7, please let me know RIGHT NOW!!!
[1] I was in Vegas for the Final Four that year. Nick, I strongly recommend experiencing that brand of March Madness.
[2] Rest assured, Dear Reader, there will be more posts dissecting the genius of Doc Rivers, and about the priceless skill of developing talent.
[3] Please give generously to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation on behalf of Ray and his family.
[4] I draw a distinction for allegedly racist “comments” like Vogue’s LeBron and Gisele cover. That supposedly compared LeBron to King Kong and Gisele to Fay Wray. For anyone who misses the reference, I assure you that Gisele could’ve kicked Fay’s ass, and after hangin’ with Tom Brady, she can probably hold her own with LeBron.
Nicholas – may I call you Nick? – you are an extraordinarily lucky kid. I hope you deserve those floor seats. And you should probably deeply appreciate the fact that your father got you those tix.
Nick, you should know that Big Baby Davis put on a clinic in What Hard Work Means To Me. Seriously, your middle school counselor should take down that worn “Hang In There” poster of the kitty and put up a poster of Big Baby Davis freaking out after winning the game. Because he won the game through pure, old fashioned, hard work.
I know you’re a Magic fan. (We can talk about the wisdom of that choice later. For now, I’ll take the situation as it is.) So I truly understand the heartbreak of the buzzer beater loss. I’ve loved the Celtics since 1984, so – believe me – I understand heartbreaking loss. But this “teachable moment” is bigger than one game. It’s about Saving America. America truly believes in the idea of pulling oneself up by ye olde bootstraps. And even if that’s a myth, it’s a damn useful myth, kiddo!
When Baby was playing at LSU,[1] he was often compared to Shaq. I think that means the media and the analysts mostly thought he was big and slow, but capable of blocking up the lane without getting a 3-sec violation and catching the occasional rebound. And hitting 50% or more of his free throws.
Doc Rivers (an absolute ______in’ genius at developing talent[2]) told Glen to do nothing all summer but practice his jump shot. And so he did. I still remember the first time I saw Big Baby knock down a 13-foot jumper. When he did it again, I started calling people trumpeting the fact that the Celts had this new weapon. And when he started hitting them consistently, from 15 to 17 feet, I sat back, shut up, and let his game speak for itself.
And then, the unbelievable buzzer beater. Orlando actually defended that play pretty well. Of course they covered Ray Allen.[3] Of course they double-teamed Paul Pierce. No one thought Glen Davis would take the final shot – no one except Glen Davis and Doc Rivers. Because they knew how hard he’d worked and how this team would need it.
And right after the Payoff Shot – the payoff for all his hard work – he completely lost it!!! Can you imagine hitting the buzzer beating, playoff game winning jump shot? And we all saw how Davis tried to avoid running into a ref, and as a result, he bumped you. Holy crap, man!!! The guy who won the game TOUCHED YOU! I BET HE’D SIGN THAT CAP YOU WERE WEARING!!! If you have no reason to believe in anything else, you could sell the damn hat on Ebay and start saving for your college education.
I’m sorry your dad made a giant stink. His team lost. (I read somewhere that he “used to be” a Celtics fan. Here’s another life lesson: LOYALTY COUNTS. Ask your dad to explain exactly when he stopped being a Celts fan. If it was during the very long lean years, you can ask him what it means to be a fair weather friend.)
I will take the high road and not draw any conclusions about whether your dad is a racist. Most people who compare black men – even professional basketball players! – to “raging animals” in this millennium are called racists. (To be fair, ESPN has gotten away with it. I’ve heard their commentators state that certain black Southern football players “know the difference between sic and get ‘em.” Apparently it’s okay in Los Angeles studios to compare Southern black athletes to animals.[4])
According to the Orlando Sentinel, your dad has since apologized – to Davis and to Danny Ainge. And that’s great. I think it’s great that Davis apologized to (you and) your dad. But has your dad apologized to you? He claimed in front of the entire nation that you were “embarrassed” by Big Baby’s actions. Really?? Or was it more embarrassing for your dad to be a giant A- - Wipe in the worldwide media? No offense to you, Nick, but your dad pretty much gave you a swirly that will be remembered by EVERYONE WHO WATCHES THE NBA PLAYOFFS.
That sucks, kiddo. But there is a silver lining for you and for every 12-year-old who has a dumb, publicity- (and probably lawsuit-) hungry loser as a parent: this will be AWESOME ammunition in a few years when you have a really good reason to rebel! Dad tries to give you sh*t about anything at all, telling you that whatever you are upset about isn’t a big deal, remind dad about how he made WORLDWIDE NEWS about how much it sucks to have floor seats at a playoff game with his kid.
Then remind him how he walked uphill through the snow to school when he was your age. Then steal his car and flip him off as you drive away.
Nick, best of luck to you. And I hope you enjoy the rest of the playoffs. If you know where to get floor seats next to the bench at the Garden for Game 7, please let me know RIGHT NOW!!!
[1] I was in Vegas for the Final Four that year. Nick, I strongly recommend experiencing that brand of March Madness.
[2] Rest assured, Dear Reader, there will be more posts dissecting the genius of Doc Rivers, and about the priceless skill of developing talent.
[3] Please give generously to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation on behalf of Ray and his family.
[4] I draw a distinction for allegedly racist “comments” like Vogue’s LeBron and Gisele cover. That supposedly compared LeBron to King Kong and Gisele to Fay Wray. For anyone who misses the reference, I assure you that Gisele could’ve kicked Fay’s ass, and after hangin’ with Tom Brady, she can probably hold her own with LeBron.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Total Confidence Will Not Save the Day
If you’ve ever read (or had the even cooler experience of being physically present for) any of my previous rants, you probably know that I have big problems with the government bailouts. I’m somewhat ambivalent about the bailouts to the Big Three automakers. I hate the idea of any industry that in so many ways symbolizes America going the way of the dodo bird. I hate even more the idea of 2.5 or 3 million (more) workers being tossed out of their jobs.
I don’t have any real solutions for making the American auto industry viable again. As bad as it is for any of the Big Three to fail, I think they’ve been asking for it. (On that note, I should point out that when Michael Moore and I agree on something, you KNOW that we’re right.) I think that after decades of mismanagement and producing mostly inferior products,* the Big Three deserve very little sympathy. I’m no social Darwinist when it comes to events in individuals’ lives. But when we’re talking about some of the (formerly) richest and most successful companies in the history of the freakin’ world, well, if they can’t keep their sh*t together, then – at this point – let ‘em fail. Get ‘em outta the way so that someone with some fresh ideas can ascend.
In December 2008, GM and Chrysler scored $17.4 BILLION in government “loans.” (Our government explained to us all the it will actually make a profit on the deal when GM and Chrysler – ahem – repays the loans. Hold your breath waiting for that. Then, when you pass out, fall over, and hit your head on the corner of your desk, you can sue Tim Geithner and Lawrence Summers** – and CASH IN!! YAY!) Now GM and Chrysler want another $22 billion to keep them alive. But the sick part is that the NEXT MASSIVE INFUSION OF CASH will not do the trick. The ship is sinking.
In a desperate and kind of pathetic attempt to induce the public to buy, GM now offers its ridiculous Total Confidence Program. The part of this program that bothers me most is the Payment Protection aspect. Under this deal, you can buy a car, wait a few weeks – then get fired, and have GM (aka the United States Government, aka ME AND EVERY OTHER TAX PAYER) cover your car payments for 9 months. Sweet!
What the [Bleeeeeeeeeeeeep]??
Okay, if you want to go buy a Chevy, go right ahead. But don’t expect me to carry your a**. (I’m already making your mortgage payment for you man! Cut me a break already!)
To me completely accurate, the Payment Protection program is basically an insurance policy GM purchased from CynoSure Financial. So it’s not exactly like GM, the federal government, and I are directly paying the car payments of anyone who gets fired after buying a Hummer. But somehow, GM has to pay the premiums for its snazzy new insurance policy. Either it’s doing so with its generous government “loans” – or it’s building the cost of the premiums into the purchase price of the new car. (If it’s the latter, God help us all. Paying for the “payment protection” with the purchase price on the new car that the soon-to-be-fired buyer can’t actually afford… Bernie Madoff tips his hat.)
So, given that it’s too late to save GM, what do we do now?
I’ll tell you what we do:
We start repo’ing cars!!!***
That’s what GM would do if the Buyer couldn’t make his or her payments – back in the good old days before the government started “helping” us by nationalizing entire industries. So now that I own GM, the way I see it, Buyer gets behind on his payments, and HIS CAR IS MINE!
Would you, my overtaxed Reader, like a brand new car? Then take matters into your own hands and TAKE ONE BACK! It’ll feel sooooo good…
Would you, my overtaxed Reader, like a brand new car? Then take matters into your own hands and TAKE ONE BACK! It’ll feel sooooo good…
With any luck, it’ll have some cherry leather and some kickin’ speakers.
* The only cars I have ever owned (except those driven primarily by my husband) have been Pontiacs. I absolutely adore my current set of wheels, a tricked out 2001 Pontiac Grand Prix. It is a testament to the wisdom of the good folks running GM that they think they will save the company by discontinuing one of their few makes that is actually worth driving. Well done, boys!
**I have many thoughts about Mr. Summers and his views. I encourage you to learn more about him!
* The only cars I have ever owned (except those driven primarily by my husband) have been Pontiacs. I absolutely adore my current set of wheels, a tricked out 2001 Pontiac Grand Prix. It is a testament to the wisdom of the good folks running GM that they think they will save the company by discontinuing one of their few makes that is actually worth driving. Well done, boys!
**I have many thoughts about Mr. Summers and his views. I encourage you to learn more about him!
*** SATIRE ALERT!!!! Please be smart enough and/or sober enough to realize I’m not actually encouraging you to commit any felonies. Make your mom proud, and stick to misdemeanors. †
†DISCLAIMER: I am not inciting anyone to commit crimes or infractions of
any kind. Geez, can’t you take a joke?
Identity Crises at Institutions of Higher Learning
I am a proud graduate of Boalt Hall School of Law. (A proud graduate who made it through the seemingly interminable three-year slog to find herself well over $100,000 in debt…) For those of you who do not know, Boalt Hall is – was – among the finest law schools in the country. It produced a truly impressive list of academics, writers, attorneys, and judges, including no less than former United States Chief Justice Earl Warren. (Let’s not forget notable faculty members, as well, such as William Prosser and the always controversial John Yoo.)
In April 2008, Boalt officially changed its name to “UC Berkeley School of Law” – apparently so that the uninformed masses would associate the Law School with the prestigious University of California at Berkeley. I personally disliked the changes. In my view, anyone whose opinion mattered knew exactly what Boalt Hall was, and what a degree from Boalt Hall meant. (Rude, I know. But you read this blog because you know I’m going to give it to you straight without worrying about whether I'm polite, or whether I hurt your feelings.)
Boalt’s decision, however, has become a disturbing trend. I have recently learned from a very reliable source that my beloved undergraduate institution, Southwestern University – a truly excellent, small, liberal arts school in Georgetown, Texas – is considering a name change. Apparently, the powers that be think “Southwestern” sounds too regional… (Um, DUH!)
The schools that I attended simply must stop changing their names! Are they trying to distance themselves from me? Make potential future employers think my credentials are fake??? Do my diplomas still count?
Listen up, Southwestern University: There is only one way to make this right. (And remember, I donate like $200 a year, and I’m going to be paying off my student loans for the next several decades…) If you’re going to change your name, you have to name the school after me. CaC Polytechnic… the CaC Institute for Intellectual Awesomeness... or maybe just CaC University…
OK, how about at least slapping my name on a building?
In April 2008, Boalt officially changed its name to “UC Berkeley School of Law” – apparently so that the uninformed masses would associate the Law School with the prestigious University of California at Berkeley. I personally disliked the changes. In my view, anyone whose opinion mattered knew exactly what Boalt Hall was, and what a degree from Boalt Hall meant. (Rude, I know. But you read this blog because you know I’m going to give it to you straight without worrying about whether I'm polite, or whether I hurt your feelings.)
Boalt’s decision, however, has become a disturbing trend. I have recently learned from a very reliable source that my beloved undergraduate institution, Southwestern University – a truly excellent, small, liberal arts school in Georgetown, Texas – is considering a name change. Apparently, the powers that be think “Southwestern” sounds too regional… (Um, DUH!)
The schools that I attended simply must stop changing their names! Are they trying to distance themselves from me? Make potential future employers think my credentials are fake??? Do my diplomas still count?
Listen up, Southwestern University: There is only one way to make this right. (And remember, I donate like $200 a year, and I’m going to be paying off my student loans for the next several decades…) If you’re going to change your name, you have to name the school after me. CaC Polytechnic… the CaC Institute for Intellectual Awesomeness... or maybe just CaC University…
OK, how about at least slapping my name on a building?
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Mom Saves America!!!!
Two take-home lessons for today: (1) Once in a while, I will write a post about someone or something that I will not criticize. It will be rare, and special. (I’m currently working on a post about Barney Frank. You don’t know me yet, but that’s shocking!)
(2) GREAT MOMS ARE THE BEST
Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
I have the greatest Mom in the world. I have been a feminist since approximately age 4. We were cruising – probably in the Chevy Citation http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chevrolet_Citation – and for some reason, the idea struck me that when I grew up, I would get married and end up living wherever I’d lived the longest before I met my husband. My mother wisely corrected me that I probably would live wherever my husband got a job. I thought about asking why my future husband wouldn’t decide to live where I got a job – and I kept that question to myself. I’m pretty sure that was the moment I became a feminist.
As a result, for many years I was way too critical of my mother. At times, I criticized her for not finishing college, or for not having a demanding career, or for keeping house too well – or whatever.
During those years, I was a foolish, immature, self-centered jerk. (Feel free to debate in the Comments section how much that has changed.) It took some time on my own in the real world to realize how incredibly fortunate I was – and still am.
My mother is a wonderful nurturer. To this day I still have to have ginger ale over ice when I’m sick because that’s one thing she did to take care of me when I was little. My mother makes delightful chocolate chip cookies. I learned recently that she’s wildly perfectionistic about the pans she uses to make cookies…
I used to think my mother was a pushover. But the truth is, in her own way, she was by far the toughest member of my family. She was calm in every storm. She taught me what it means to sacrifice for another person. (That SO doesn’t come naturally to me, but honest to God, done for the right reason and for the right person, it is life affirming and gratifying. And sometimes it’s simply the right thing to do.) She won’t believe it, but she’s probably the reason I’m a defense lawyer: she showed me how to stand by someone and defend that person all day, every day, whether “that person” deserved it or not.
My mother can take any piece of fabric, anywhere, and turn it into art. Or at least into curtains. About once I day, I wish I were a little more like her.
Her mother clearly did something right.
I love you, Mom.
Reader(s),* if you have a good Mom, make sure she knows that you appreciate her. If you had a good Mom, and she’s gone, cherish her memory. If you haven’t been blessed enough to have a good Mom, let me know. Mine has a big heart, and she’ll probably unofficially adopt you.
PS – I have many friends who are mothers. I hope each one of you has a Lovely weekend! Love, Aunt CaC
* I hope there is more than one.
(2) GREAT MOMS ARE THE BEST
Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
I have the greatest Mom in the world. I have been a feminist since approximately age 4. We were cruising – probably in the Chevy Citation http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chevrolet_Citation – and for some reason, the idea struck me that when I grew up, I would get married and end up living wherever I’d lived the longest before I met my husband. My mother wisely corrected me that I probably would live wherever my husband got a job. I thought about asking why my future husband wouldn’t decide to live where I got a job – and I kept that question to myself. I’m pretty sure that was the moment I became a feminist.
As a result, for many years I was way too critical of my mother. At times, I criticized her for not finishing college, or for not having a demanding career, or for keeping house too well – or whatever.
During those years, I was a foolish, immature, self-centered jerk. (Feel free to debate in the Comments section how much that has changed.) It took some time on my own in the real world to realize how incredibly fortunate I was – and still am.
My mother is a wonderful nurturer. To this day I still have to have ginger ale over ice when I’m sick because that’s one thing she did to take care of me when I was little. My mother makes delightful chocolate chip cookies. I learned recently that she’s wildly perfectionistic about the pans she uses to make cookies…
I used to think my mother was a pushover. But the truth is, in her own way, she was by far the toughest member of my family. She was calm in every storm. She taught me what it means to sacrifice for another person. (That SO doesn’t come naturally to me, but honest to God, done for the right reason and for the right person, it is life affirming and gratifying. And sometimes it’s simply the right thing to do.) She won’t believe it, but she’s probably the reason I’m a defense lawyer: she showed me how to stand by someone and defend that person all day, every day, whether “that person” deserved it or not.
My mother can take any piece of fabric, anywhere, and turn it into art. Or at least into curtains. About once I day, I wish I were a little more like her.
Her mother clearly did something right.
I love you, Mom.
Reader(s),* if you have a good Mom, make sure she knows that you appreciate her. If you had a good Mom, and she’s gone, cherish her memory. If you haven’t been blessed enough to have a good Mom, let me know. Mine has a big heart, and she’ll probably unofficially adopt you.
PS – I have many friends who are mothers. I hope each one of you has a Lovely weekend! Love, Aunt CaC
* I hope there is more than one.
We Are All Captains of Industry (and that’s a problem!)
I want to be on the Board of Directors of Bank of America! WSJ says they’re looking, and I want to know where to apply! I am officially throwing my hat in the ring. (My official hat has also been thrown into the nomination process of the New Supreme Court Justice To Replace Soon-To-Be-Retired Justice Souter. If I am nominated to that post, I will remove myself from the applicant pool at Good ol’ B of A, pending confirmation. If the Senate boots me, I’m right back in the running at B of A. Go Team!)
Anyway… Do you pay taxes? I do. And how! I’m certain this will be a topic of other posts, so I won’t dwell too much on this… but I’m exactly at the bottom of a bracket, which is a terrible place to be. I have absolutely crushing student loan debt (not to mention the “consumer” debt I ran up during my student years for frivolous things like “food” and “rent” and “birth control”). And yet – because I didn’t sleep for about 10 years and waited tables during law school – I got a job that pays $0.12 too much for me to be able to deduct the interest in my student loans. (Just to sweeten the pot, my dear husband – who tended bar the whole time I was in law school, then the whole time he was finishing his degree, then while the economy tanked and he got another job, then realized he made more $ tending bar, then the economy tanked FURTHER… - can’t get ANY of the Lifetime Learning Credit. Nor can he deduct any of the interest he paid on his student loans.)* Seriously, I paid more in taxes for 2008 THAN THE FREAKING CABINET DID. **
(Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had wonderful opportunities.)
Do you realize WE have given Citibank $50 BILLION? They own one of my student loans and two of my credit cards. They’re actually getting as much of my after-tax pay as I get. AND THEY GET MY TAX DOLLARS! Honestly, given the principle on my debt, if they have 4 other law students in hock, they can support one entire call center on our interest and fees alone.
So the way I see it, I own Citibank’s A**! AND BANK OF AMERICA’S !!!
And that brings me back to B of A, which actually spurred me into creating this blog. Because Bank of “America” needs a new name – OR AMERICA DOES
I bought a house recently. It’s a nice, modest house in a mostly blue collar neighborhood. I love it! Not surprisingly, the modest house in the blue collar neighborhood needed a bit of work, and things broke. I put in many sweaty hours working in the house without a refrigerator. Once I had a fridge, I put on a full court press toward moving in. So of course the dishwasher broke. And then Murphy’s Law kicked in to keep me from ever getting a dishwasher.
What the h*ll does this have to do with B of A, or taxes, or ANYTHING, you ask. Stay with me, gentle reader… T’was a long day.
The Day finally came! The Day When I Would Purchase Said Dishwasher I’d just been paid. I was flush with cash. I confidently handed over my debit card… and it was DECLINED.
I was momentarily perturbed until the ever-smooth appliance lady suggested I present a check. Of course! I knew there were ample funds in the account. What better way to show it than to confidently present a personally signed note, accompanied (of course) by a valid driver’s license?
The Smooth Appliance Lady’s face tightened as she explained that I should follow her to the customer service desk. At said desk, after it was used as a “teachable moment” for three trainees, it was explained to me that Bank of “America” had directed them to do no business with me unless I had cash. $
Lo and behold, there was a B of A branch conveniently located right across the parking lot. I walked in confidently, with a mostly pleasant attitude and demeanor. I waited in line for several minutes, admiring the several flat screen televisions they’d mounted to the walls and ceilings since the last time I’d been in. (They charge me for coming inside and talking to them. I suppose the TVs are for the employees.)
When it was my turn, I explained the situation and was told that a hold had been placed on my card for my protection. I had no idea that the dishwasher I wanted was so dangerous. I assured the “Customer Solutions” [I was going to put in a link, but you should just Google for yourself] representative that I could hold my own in the Home Depot, and she assured me I could walk back across the parking lot and complete my purchase.
Triumphantly, I strode through the lot. The dishwasher would be mine!
declined.
Crossing the parking lot agin! Ready for a fight. I live for the verbal joust. It’s what I do.
“No, your card is working now.”
"No, it isn’t."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I carrying a dishwasher?"
[Awkward silence]
[Angry look from Customer Solutions]
“It should be working.”
“Yes, it should be. It’s not.”
“It should be working now.”
“Yes. I know that. If it were working, I would not be standing here talking to you [Customer Solutions].”
“Your card should be working.”
“It’s not.”
“It should be.”
“Yes, it should be.”
That was the point at which I closed all my accounts with B of A. (By doing so, I spent about $800. It was a lot like a trailer park divorce. Totally worth it.)
Once I got over the fact that I was being p*ss*ed *n by Customer Solutions, I was no longer angry as a customer. I was PISSED as a TAXPAYER/MAJORITY SHAREHOLDER.
That’s right, I am a MAJORITY SHAREHOLDER. Not just in B of A. I own Citibank. I own Fifth Third, whatever the _________ that is. I am within Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon of owning every company that I owe money to.
America, I promised you solutions. I promised you Salvation. Here’s the first few steps:
1. Take ownership. That used to be a touchy feely creepy therapist thing to say. Now it’s actual reality, endorsed by radicals like Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and ME. Understand that YOU OWN every freakin’ dollar your government spends.
2. Stop paying debts owed to and/or serviced by any entity (other than one that was already owned and operated by the federal government before 2008 – Freddie Mac, you know who you are!). Paying those guys would be just like taking cash out of your wallet and putting it into your pocket and letting the feds tax the transaction.
3. Find out when the stockholders’ meetings of EVERY corporation that the “government” now “owns” a voting share in. Go there. Stand in line at the door with your driver’s license, social security card, and W-4 in hand. (Sorry, undocumented friends – with your help, I’ll post another set of instructions for you to Save America.) Demand entrance. Demand a good FU*KING SEAT. Ask a lot of questions. Eat a lot of free food. You earned it.
If they call security, if they try to throw you out… explain exactly who they work for. (Is it whom? Somebody help me!) If that fails, pull out your camera phone, and shoot, shoot, shoot. Then call me.
Good night, My Fellow Americans. Best of luck to you. £
* I think I need to set up a hotline for People Who Suddenly Realize They Should Have Thanked Bill Clinton for Something He Did in 1997. I was an excellent college student who did not felalte anyone I interned for in 1998 (or any other year, just to make a clear record). But I will admit that in 1997 I had never filed income taxes, so I stupidly thought the Lifetime Learning Credit and Hope Credit had always existed and would forever be available for all except the Idle Rich).
**If you have Geithner’s CPA’s number, please pass it along. If you have Geithner’s CPA’s attorney’s number, please pass him my resume.
£ And best of luck to Barney Frank. (Keep reading.)
$ Wikipedia and I are still looking for an expert on the subject. (Call me!)
I want to be on the Board of Directors of Bank of America! WSJ says they’re looking, and I want to know where to apply! I am officially throwing my hat in the ring. (My official hat has also been thrown into the nomination process of the New Supreme Court Justice To Replace Soon-To-Be-Retired Justice Souter. If I am nominated to that post, I will remove myself from the applicant pool at Good ol’ B of A, pending confirmation. If the Senate boots me, I’m right back in the running at B of A. Go Team!)
Anyway… Do you pay taxes? I do. And how! I’m certain this will be a topic of other posts, so I won’t dwell too much on this… but I’m exactly at the bottom of a bracket, which is a terrible place to be. I have absolutely crushing student loan debt (not to mention the “consumer” debt I ran up during my student years for frivolous things like “food” and “rent” and “birth control”). And yet – because I didn’t sleep for about 10 years and waited tables during law school – I got a job that pays $0.12 too much for me to be able to deduct the interest in my student loans. (Just to sweeten the pot, my dear husband – who tended bar the whole time I was in law school, then the whole time he was finishing his degree, then while the economy tanked and he got another job, then realized he made more $ tending bar, then the economy tanked FURTHER… - can’t get ANY of the Lifetime Learning Credit. Nor can he deduct any of the interest he paid on his student loans.)* Seriously, I paid more in taxes for 2008 THAN THE FREAKING CABINET DID. **
(Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had wonderful opportunities.)
Do you realize WE have given Citibank $50 BILLION? They own one of my student loans and two of my credit cards. They’re actually getting as much of my after-tax pay as I get. AND THEY GET MY TAX DOLLARS! Honestly, given the principle on my debt, if they have 4 other law students in hock, they can support one entire call center on our interest and fees alone.
So the way I see it, I own Citibank’s A**! AND BANK OF AMERICA’S !!!
And that brings me back to B of A, which actually spurred me into creating this blog. Because Bank of “America” needs a new name – OR AMERICA DOES
I bought a house recently. It’s a nice, modest house in a mostly blue collar neighborhood. I love it! Not surprisingly, the modest house in the blue collar neighborhood needed a bit of work, and things broke. I put in many sweaty hours working in the house without a refrigerator. Once I had a fridge, I put on a full court press toward moving in. So of course the dishwasher broke. And then Murphy’s Law kicked in to keep me from ever getting a dishwasher.
What the h*ll does this have to do with B of A, or taxes, or ANYTHING, you ask. Stay with me, gentle reader… T’was a long day.
The Day finally came! The Day When I Would Purchase Said Dishwasher I’d just been paid. I was flush with cash. I confidently handed over my debit card… and it was DECLINED.
I was momentarily perturbed until the ever-smooth appliance lady suggested I present a check. Of course! I knew there were ample funds in the account. What better way to show it than to confidently present a personally signed note, accompanied (of course) by a valid driver’s license?
The Smooth Appliance Lady’s face tightened as she explained that I should follow her to the customer service desk. At said desk, after it was used as a “teachable moment” for three trainees, it was explained to me that Bank of “America” had directed them to do no business with me unless I had cash. $
Lo and behold, there was a B of A branch conveniently located right across the parking lot. I walked in confidently, with a mostly pleasant attitude and demeanor. I waited in line for several minutes, admiring the several flat screen televisions they’d mounted to the walls and ceilings since the last time I’d been in. (They charge me for coming inside and talking to them. I suppose the TVs are for the employees.)
When it was my turn, I explained the situation and was told that a hold had been placed on my card for my protection. I had no idea that the dishwasher I wanted was so dangerous. I assured the “Customer Solutions” [I was going to put in a link, but you should just Google for yourself] representative that I could hold my own in the Home Depot, and she assured me I could walk back across the parking lot and complete my purchase.
Triumphantly, I strode through the lot. The dishwasher would be mine!
declined.
Crossing the parking lot agin! Ready for a fight. I live for the verbal joust. It’s what I do.
“No, your card is working now.”
"No, it isn’t."
"Are you sure?"
"Am I carrying a dishwasher?"
[Awkward silence]
[Angry look from Customer Solutions]
“It should be working.”
“Yes, it should be. It’s not.”
“It should be working now.”
“Yes. I know that. If it were working, I would not be standing here talking to you [Customer Solutions].”
“Your card should be working.”
“It’s not.”
“It should be.”
“Yes, it should be.”
That was the point at which I closed all my accounts with B of A. (By doing so, I spent about $800. It was a lot like a trailer park divorce. Totally worth it.)
Once I got over the fact that I was being p*ss*ed *n by Customer Solutions, I was no longer angry as a customer. I was PISSED as a TAXPAYER/MAJORITY SHAREHOLDER.
That’s right, I am a MAJORITY SHAREHOLDER. Not just in B of A. I own Citibank. I own Fifth Third, whatever the _________ that is. I am within Six Degrees Of Kevin Bacon of owning every company that I owe money to.
America, I promised you solutions. I promised you Salvation. Here’s the first few steps:
1. Take ownership. That used to be a touchy feely creepy therapist thing to say. Now it’s actual reality, endorsed by radicals like Washington, Jefferson, Madison, and ME. Understand that YOU OWN every freakin’ dollar your government spends.
2. Stop paying debts owed to and/or serviced by any entity (other than one that was already owned and operated by the federal government before 2008 – Freddie Mac, you know who you are!). Paying those guys would be just like taking cash out of your wallet and putting it into your pocket and letting the feds tax the transaction.
3. Find out when the stockholders’ meetings of EVERY corporation that the “government” now “owns” a voting share in. Go there. Stand in line at the door with your driver’s license, social security card, and W-4 in hand. (Sorry, undocumented friends – with your help, I’ll post another set of instructions for you to Save America.) Demand entrance. Demand a good FU*KING SEAT. Ask a lot of questions. Eat a lot of free food. You earned it.
If they call security, if they try to throw you out… explain exactly who they work for. (Is it whom? Somebody help me!) If that fails, pull out your camera phone, and shoot, shoot, shoot. Then call me.
Good night, My Fellow Americans. Best of luck to you. £
* I think I need to set up a hotline for People Who Suddenly Realize They Should Have Thanked Bill Clinton for Something He Did in 1997. I was an excellent college student who did not felalte anyone I interned for in 1998 (or any other year, just to make a clear record). But I will admit that in 1997 I had never filed income taxes, so I stupidly thought the Lifetime Learning Credit and Hope Credit had always existed and would forever be available for all except the Idle Rich).
**If you have Geithner’s CPA’s number, please pass it along. If you have Geithner’s CPA’s attorney’s number, please pass him my resume.
£ And best of luck to Barney Frank. (Keep reading.)
$ Wikipedia and I are still looking for an expert on the subject. (Call me!)
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Welcome!
Welcome to the inaugural post to CaC Saves America! This is my new outlet for all my views on what is wrong with this country (OK, why not -- the entire world!) and how to fix it. I am writing because I truly believe I'm uniquely qualified to diagnose and treat all injustice. That's right, I've got the hubris to tell the whole world that I know more about everything than everyone else does.
Or at least I know more about my opinions than anyone else does...
I hold strong views about a wide variety of subjects. I am a practicing attorney, but this is emphatically NOT a blawg -- partly because I dislike the term "blawg," and because America cannot be saved by law alone! Actually, the reason is that I want to vent on whatever topic irritates me: sports, politics, junk food, whatever. I'm sure legal issues will come up from time to time, but keep in mind that I am not blogging as a lawyer -- just a concerned citizen who loves the sound of her own typing.
Feel free to suggests topics. I will explain how to Save whatever is wrong with America!
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