Terrible Analogies

Well, that title might be stretching the truth just a little bit, but as I write this post we’re smack dab in the middle of three major storms.  The worst of the lot is expected to plow into southern California sometime Thursday morning.  And as the stereotype goes, Californians simply can not drive in the rain.  Some of us can’t figure out that when it’s raining you should slow down, turn on your headlights, and increase the buffer zone between you and the car in front.  Otherwise, this is bound to happen:

This was one of five accident scenes I passed by going home yesterday after work.  Geniuses are at play on the freeway, my friends.  The older I get the less sympathy I have impatient, discourteous drivers darting in and out of traffic when conditions take a turn for the worse.

For all of you loons out there who can’t seem to be able to get a grip and go with the flow during times of inclement weather, here…I made you a sweater vest.  Now, will you calm down already?

Some People Are Jerks Some People Are Jerks

Having been flipped the bird in recent days, I’ve been thinking about the various ways in which the iconic “finger” is used.  It occurs to me that there are two major styles to the “one finger salute” that everyone uses, and like it or not your hand unconsciously favors one over the other.

Finger #1: “The Traditional”: Favored by hard-drinking bikers, lumberjacks, and brutes of varying intelligence levels, this style is much like a closed fist with one angry digit doing its mightest to poke conformity in the eye.  It’s used as a blunt tool in an equally blunt world.  With no instruction or previous experience this universal symbol can easily be thrown in the heat of any argument.

Finger #2: “The Cosmopolitan”: This twist on “The Traditional” requires a bit more dexterity and forethought, and lends an air of hipster dissatisfaction with a prudish bent.  Preferred by drunk sorority girls, supermarket cashiers, and published authors this finger tells the world to eff-off with a sophisticated flair missing from “The Traditional”.

Personally, I favor “The Traditional” over “The Cosmopolitan”. The Cosmo seems to send more of a pretentious message that tends to escalate tense situations quicker than the Traditional does. The Cosmopolitan conveys more of a flippant “screw you”, which makes one more of a target for a sucker punch. With the Traditional, words tend to get exchanged and combatants size each other up before the dancing commences.

Oh, BTW, the finger that was thrown to me a few days ago…Traditional!

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I’ve railed against bad drivers in the past, and even when I’m actively berating the behavior of my fellow cagers I find the whole activity of pointing out bad driving habits clichéd and redundant. But…two things happened to me on the road today that I’m at a loss to understand.

Incident #1: Driving into work this morning I’m coasting down the road going 45 when a car pulls out in front of me from a side street and guns it, his straining engine spitting grey smoke from its trembling tailpipe.  Okay, whatever.  No big deal.  I tap the brakes a bit to avoid getting too close, and proceed to follow him for several miles, never getting within two seconds of him.  He eventually pulls over into a right turning lane, then sticks his arm out of his open window and flips me off.  I’m still trying to understand why he did this.  Did I offend him in another life or something?

Incident #2: I’m backing out of my parking stall at work, and am two-thirds out when a car squeezes past me from behind, narrowly missing hitting my car by inches, then honks his horn at me.  WTF?  I’m inching my way out in my S2000, trying to see around the Ford F150 that’s blocking my view, and this brain stem decides to blow past me?  How could he have not seen that I was slowly inching out from a blind spot?  I wasn’t moving like a bunny, and couldn’t have possibly have surprised him with my creeping speed.

Now, I know that this is a blanket statement, but I still have to ask, “What the frak is wrong with drivers nowadays?“  Why the lack of basic courtesy?  The give and take and the Share The Road mentality?  Are people so mentally removed and insulated from others while driving in their cars that they fail to understand the simple fact that there are other human beings on the road with them?  Where’s the common sense?  Where’s the humanity?

Lets take these situations and place them into different circumstances;  would you flip someone off at the “10 Items Or Less” checkout line at the grocery store if they had 11 items?  Would you scream at a blind man for crossing your path, even though you saw him slowly inch his way down the sidewalk from 100 feet away?

I’m at a loss to describe this sort of behavior, and wonder if these people replay these fleeting moments in time in their heads and ask themselves, “Why did I do that?”

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Karin and I were happily enjoying Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade last night when it occurred to us how easily and without regret Indiana Jones seems to break the law.  I used to think that Indiana Jones was a nigh noble figure, a cause of light and all that is good, but after careful examination I now find him to be a highly compulsive, obsessive figure with self-absorbed tendencies and a lack of moral fiber.

Leaving the other two movies out of the equation (I don’t consider the fourth movie to be worthy of inclusion of accepted Indiana Jones canon), The Last Crusade clearly documents the many faults and atrocities of Dr. Jones.

Trespassing and Destruction of Private Property: Young Indy, on the run after having stolen a valuable artifact from an outlaw band of “archeologists”, takes refuge on a train in an attempt to outrun his pursuers, and in doing so destroys an obviously customized walkway meant for the care and feeding of a cadre of circus animals.

Animal Abuse: Young Indy, making good his escape from a pit of snakes, discovers one of the innocent creatures has secreted itself in his shirt.  Indy violently pulls this frightened and confused animal from the folds of his clothing, shakes it roughly in the air, then hurls it off the speeding train and on to the unforgiving hard ground below.

Petty Theft: Dr. Jones, having just met the beautiful Dr. Elsa Schneider, steals a flower from a poor street merchant (whose back is turned) with the intention of wooing said doctor with said flower.  It’s abundantly clear that Indiana Jones doesn’t care who he hurts, as long as he gets the object of his unquenchable, uncontrollable desires.  This is a sure sign of a man who has no moral compass.

Destruction of Public Property & Desecration of a Religious Site: In his single-minded pursuit of ancient treasures, Indiana Jones finds himself in the heart of a church-cum-library.  Following a “hunch” that something must be hidden underneath the centuries-old hand-chiseled granite stone floor, Dr. Jones proceeds to pummel the church floor with a misappropriated metal post…

…and succeeds is destroying the finely crafted stonework.  The resulting hole leads down into a crypt, where Dr. Jones proceeds to upturn corpse and casket in a frenzied search for anything of value.

Theft and Destruction of Private Property: On the run yet again (what a surprise!), Indiana Jones absconds with some poor soul’s watercraft.  Without any concern for the ramifications of this theft from a private owner, Indy and Elsa recklessly pilot this boat in open waters, endangering the public in general with their foolish antics until…

…eventually cornered, they turn on their pursuers, causing the destruction of their stolen speedboat.  Way to respect private property there, Indy.

Arson: Tied up by the Nazis, Indiana makes the suggestion that they should burn their way through their bindings, thus making a clean escape.  What he didn’t plan for was his lighter falling to the ground, igniting the ages-old castle and it’s innumerable priceless artifacts in an uncontrollable inferno, putting his life and the lives of the castle’s inhabitants in mortal danger.  I take it Indiana Jones never saw Backdraft.

In one single viewing, what was once an iconic, heroic figure of the big screen has quite surprisingly revealed himself to be nothing more than an obsessive compulsive criminal who doesn’t care who he hurts in his hunt for glory and treasure.

For one movie goer, this fall from grace has not gone unnoticed…

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…and it belongs to Bank Of America.

A few weeks ago the wife and I took a trip to Wisconsin to visit her folks.   We made all the necessary preparations, thinking that everything had been accounted for, but little did I know that there had been a large late payment made on a check I wrote long ago which dipped my checking account down to depths not typically seen.

While on holiday I was making charges to my debit card, and all seemed fine until I got home and checked my account balance.

Bank Of America, in their infinite wisdom, hit me with an overdraft charge 15 times over the course of a week. At $35 a pop, the damage added up to $525 is fees.  That’s fifteen times they charged me, the vast amount of the purchases were for less than $20 each (many were in the $6-$12 for food on the go).

Needless to say, seeing that figure was like taking a series of rabbit punches to the kidneys. One would think that BofA would stop accepting payment on a debit card after a few overdraft charges, but talking to one of the soulless drones working behind the counter this afternoon I was told that Bank Of America will allow up to 10 overdraft charges per day without blinking an eye, then start the whole process over the very next day.

Now, I know that it’s up to me to keep track of my money, but you would think that Bank Of America would be intelligent enough to say, “Hey, something’s up here. We’re concerned about this customer, so let’s put a stop on payments until we can sort this out.” But unfortunately Bank Of America simply does not care about anything other than making money (surprise!).  In fact, US banks made over $38 billion dollars in overdraft fees last year alone. These banks no longer see or care about the human element in their equations, and that became abundantly obvious as I sat behind the desk at my La Jolla, California, BofA trying to explain my situation to Cynthia who stared at me expressionless and unmoved. When I asked Cynthia if she thought that this string of overdraft fees was reasonable, she didn’t bat an eye, but instead ran back to her “supervisor” much like a used car salesman who, while making a deal, skulks into the back office to discuss with the “mystery man” every counter offer you give.  Like a patient in a hospital bed being fed a steady drip of propofol, she sat emotionless to my plight, staring at me as if I were wearing the uniform of the enemy, and I could detect the very palpable sense that she wished that I would just shut up and die.

I don’t see how she sleeps well at night.

These overdraft fees, coupled with Cynthia’s lack of empathy, really brought home the stark realization that Bank Of America could give two flips about me, and by extension, any of its customers.  What makes me sick is the fact that the bank I’ve chosen to protect my money winds up robbing me blind, and for how Cynthia treated me, making me feel like a ten dollar whore.

Now, I did manage to get back a portion of my money, but I’m afraid that I’ll be moving my account over to a credit union in the very near future. This was a harsh lesson in Bank Of America’s business model, and one I hope none of you ever have to experience. Again, I didn’t keep track of my checking account, so the fault on this is mine, but the way in which Bank Of America treated me was a ruthless wakeup call, and it really forces me to reexamine my attitude towards big business (it’s funny how that happens when the shoe is on the other hand, no?).

If you bank with BofA, I’d suggest that you opt out of their overdraft protection plan. It entails a simple phone call that could possibly save you hundreds of dollars in the future.  Trust me, it’s worth opting out.

Oh, and if you think that you’re immune from the ravages of these bloodsucking leeches, you’re not.  Even if you have perfect credit, they’ll still stick it to you.

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