First I’d like to apologize to any follower who got spammed by a Google bot recently. I’m not sure how/why it happened, but I am investigating furiously so that it does not happen again. Evil must not be tolerated!
The U.S. government recently announced a new cell phone alert system in which people could get critical alerts from government officials, including the President. I’m not so sure this will work the way they intended.
Let’s imagine possible text message alerts about a tornado forming in Austin and how a Mr. R. Perry of Austin might react:
Obama: Attention Texans, this is your President speaking. Tornadoes are forming across Texas. Seek shelter immediately!
R. Perry: (answering cell phone) Hello? Hello? Who is this? Is anyone there?
Obama: It’s a text message. Use your keyboard to text me back.
R. Perry: 118547770321889
Obama: No, not the number pad. Use the keyboard that slides out.
R. Perry: Weren’t you recently clubbed to death by a team of seals?
Obama: That was OSAMA! This is President Obama!
R. Perry: I believe weather and tornadoes are a local matter. We don’t need Washington telling us when to carry an umbrella.
Obama: An F-5 tornado is bearing down on Austin. Get to the cellar!
R. Perry: Maybe that’s a tornado for you Eastern elites but where I’m from in west Texas, that’s just a summer breeze.
Obama: You will die if you don’t seek shelter.
R. Perry: Ha! A Washington death panel. I knew it!
Obama: The tornado will kill you! Look out your window. Can’t you see the dark noon sky?
R. Perry: Looking east towards that Washington swamp, it’s always dark.
Obama: What’s it going to take to drive you to safety? What if I said there’s two gay illegal immigrants trying to get married on your front porch while trying to vote without a valid I.D.?
R. Perry: Yikes! I’m battening down the hatches. Gotta go. Oh wait! I forgot. How about you going ahead and getting the ball rolling on some federal disaster relief?
Obama: Bwahahahahahahahahaha! OMG! LMAO!
For a fair and balanced blog, let’s travel back in time and pretend we had this system during the George W. Bush presidency. Same setting, different players: a tornado heads toward Austin, and a Mr. Lemony Alfalfa receives the texts:
Dick Cheney: Texans, get yer ass in a shelter, pronto!
Lemony Alfalfa: Hey, what happened to W?
Cheney: Don’t know. He’s walking Barney or something. I’m in charge.
Alfalfa: After not finding weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, why should we believe a tornado is coming?
Cheney: That’s what Osama Bin Laden would like you to think. I’m pretty sure he conjured up this F-5 tornado.
Alfalfa: That’s possible. But wouldn’t he target New York or D.C.?
Cheney: Uh, the President’s ranch is in Texas. Duh.
Alfalfa: I’d like a second opinion.
Cheney: I’ll have Colin Powell text you. But you’ll probably be dead by then. Get to a shelter now!
Alfalfa: I’ll wait for the general’s text.
Cheney: What if I told you illegal immigrants were seen coming into your neighborhood?
Alfalfa: They’d probably improve the restaurant scene.
Cheney: These are Eskimo immigrants. I hope you like herring. And what if I said they had concealed handgun permits and they had grounded a ship leaking oil in the Amazon and now they were seeking work as union-busting goons?
Alfalfa: I haven’t finished building my shelter yet. I’m trying to make it green.
Cheney: Go #@*%$ yourself!
Showing posts with label government. Show all posts
Showing posts with label government. Show all posts
Friday, May 13, 2011
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Let Your Fingers Do the Taking
Today’s blog begins with a quick quiz:
Upon starting a new small business:
A. Your mood swings will go from optimism to depression to joy to sheer terror on an hourly basis
B. You will get great satisfaction out of being self-employed and providing valuable goods/services to the community
C. You will become rich
D. You will become destitute
E. Both C & D within a few months time
F. Knowing that you have financing by either investors or a bank, people will try to get that money as quickly as possible from you—sometimes legally, sometimes dubiously, and many times through chicanery
The correct answer is F (partial credit if you answered A or E). I have many stories to tell but this one just came up again so now I will provide this knowledge to others. This scam has less to do with knowing that you have money and more to do with hoping you won’t notice that they are stealing your money.
Let’s say you and I went to grade school together. Sometime during 4th grade, you borrowed $5 from me. I asked to be paid back several times until you finally said, “You want your five dollars? Here’s five for you!” You pull your fingers into a fist and punch me in the face.
Now let’s say for some reason, 44-year-old me just remembered this morning that you owed me that money. Somehow I get my hands on your telephone number. But instead of calling you, I call your phone company and tell them to bill you and to please send it to me.
Amazingly, the phone company says, “Sure.”
So you’re thinking, “Big deal. You got your $5 back.” However, you and I both know that we didn’t go to school together and that you really don’t owe me anything (although donations are always welcome). And to make it more fun, the $5 charge ends up on your bill by coincidence only because I’m going through a phone book, picking out numbers and telling the phone company that these phone numbers owe me money. And the phone company—because they can’t afford to hire humans—has a computer voice respond, “You betcha.”
Let’s assume I managed to bill 10,000 phone numbers $5 a month which comes to $50,000 a month. How many people will actually notice this charge on their 5-page phone bill? For fun, let’s assume that 50% (probably way too high) of the people complain and get it taken off their bill. I still get $25,000 a month! See you in Aruba! (Hmmm, wait maybe I should be making an infomercial…)
Of course, I would be too easy to track down this way. So let’s say there’s a company out there that we’ll call just for fun, JME Services, that specializes in what they call third party billing. Now I simply tell JME that you owe me money for what I call Special Directory Services, and they contact the phone company to have it added to your bill.
Your phone bill now lists a charge for Special Directory Services from JME Services but only provides a number for the phone company. You call the phone company which tells you there’s nothing they can do because JME told them to do it, but they give you JME’s phone number. JME will tell you there’s nothing they can do because I told them to do it, and they give you my phone number. Depending on how crooked I am, I may try to convince you that you really did order my services but more likely I’ll apologize and remove you from future billing because I’m already making a killing in this business. But the best part is that with three companies involved, they can all blame someone else! Plus I think you’d really enjoy my Special Directory Services if you knew what they were.
Every month I get charged $30 to $50 on my bill from some third party. Every month I call the phone company who then tells me to call JME who then tells me to call this mysterious third party who never answers. Eventually JME puts a stop on the billing and the phone company drops the charge from my bill. However, the phone company cannot put a stop on third party billing because the government requires them to allow it. Fantastic! Another example of the government working hard for the people.
The charges will stop for a few months then a new mysterious company will pop up with its hand in my back pocket. And so I go through the whole painful process again. The scammers have figured out for the bargain price of $35 a month, you’ll eventually tire of dealing with all these companies and just keep paying them.
As good as it feels to get that off my chest and take satisfaction in alerting others to read your phone bill with a magnifying glass, I realized I probably also inspired 6000 people to set up their own billing companies. Why not? It’s easy; just call the phone company where the answer is always, “You betcha!”
Upon starting a new small business:
A. Your mood swings will go from optimism to depression to joy to sheer terror on an hourly basis
B. You will get great satisfaction out of being self-employed and providing valuable goods/services to the community
C. You will become rich
D. You will become destitute
E. Both C & D within a few months time
F. Knowing that you have financing by either investors or a bank, people will try to get that money as quickly as possible from you—sometimes legally, sometimes dubiously, and many times through chicanery
The correct answer is F (partial credit if you answered A or E). I have many stories to tell but this one just came up again so now I will provide this knowledge to others. This scam has less to do with knowing that you have money and more to do with hoping you won’t notice that they are stealing your money.
Let’s say you and I went to grade school together. Sometime during 4th grade, you borrowed $5 from me. I asked to be paid back several times until you finally said, “You want your five dollars? Here’s five for you!” You pull your fingers into a fist and punch me in the face.
Now let’s say for some reason, 44-year-old me just remembered this morning that you owed me that money. Somehow I get my hands on your telephone number. But instead of calling you, I call your phone company and tell them to bill you and to please send it to me.
Amazingly, the phone company says, “Sure.”
So you’re thinking, “Big deal. You got your $5 back.” However, you and I both know that we didn’t go to school together and that you really don’t owe me anything (although donations are always welcome). And to make it more fun, the $5 charge ends up on your bill by coincidence only because I’m going through a phone book, picking out numbers and telling the phone company that these phone numbers owe me money. And the phone company—because they can’t afford to hire humans—has a computer voice respond, “You betcha.”
Let’s assume I managed to bill 10,000 phone numbers $5 a month which comes to $50,000 a month. How many people will actually notice this charge on their 5-page phone bill? For fun, let’s assume that 50% (probably way too high) of the people complain and get it taken off their bill. I still get $25,000 a month! See you in Aruba! (Hmmm, wait maybe I should be making an infomercial…)
Of course, I would be too easy to track down this way. So let’s say there’s a company out there that we’ll call just for fun, JME Services, that specializes in what they call third party billing. Now I simply tell JME that you owe me money for what I call Special Directory Services, and they contact the phone company to have it added to your bill.
Your phone bill now lists a charge for Special Directory Services from JME Services but only provides a number for the phone company. You call the phone company which tells you there’s nothing they can do because JME told them to do it, but they give you JME’s phone number. JME will tell you there’s nothing they can do because I told them to do it, and they give you my phone number. Depending on how crooked I am, I may try to convince you that you really did order my services but more likely I’ll apologize and remove you from future billing because I’m already making a killing in this business. But the best part is that with three companies involved, they can all blame someone else! Plus I think you’d really enjoy my Special Directory Services if you knew what they were.
Every month I get charged $30 to $50 on my bill from some third party. Every month I call the phone company who then tells me to call JME who then tells me to call this mysterious third party who never answers. Eventually JME puts a stop on the billing and the phone company drops the charge from my bill. However, the phone company cannot put a stop on third party billing because the government requires them to allow it. Fantastic! Another example of the government working hard for the people.
The charges will stop for a few months then a new mysterious company will pop up with its hand in my back pocket. And so I go through the whole painful process again. The scammers have figured out for the bargain price of $35 a month, you’ll eventually tire of dealing with all these companies and just keep paying them.
As good as it feels to get that off my chest and take satisfaction in alerting others to read your phone bill with a magnifying glass, I realized I probably also inspired 6000 people to set up their own billing companies. Why not? It’s easy; just call the phone company where the answer is always, “You betcha!”
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Your Money's No Good Here
Several years ago, St. Pauli Girl and I chose our bank based on its thousands of world-wide locations since we considered ourselves sophisticated frequent travelers. And St. Pauli Girl happened to have an account there already. Moving half-way across the Great Republic wouldn’t be a problem except we chose the one town that didn’t have a branch for our bank. This is not a big deal anymore with direct deposits and online banking. In fact, I overdrew our account while I typed this.
But rare occasions call for us to make the twenty-mile drive to the bank. Turns out I had to get a cashier’s check to pay a certain sheriff of a certain parish in Louisiana. That parish had a nice welcome center consisting of two police cars parked on the interstate in an area where you had about thirty feet to slow down from 70 to 55. Downhill. Some people would call this a speed trap, but I prefer to think of it more like a telethon. I’m happy to pledge some money so this parish can make its budget.
So I took my pledge card (plus a check from another bank to cover the funds) to the bank where I actually got to deal with a real live teller:
Me: I need to deposit this check.
Teller: Certainly. (her fingers fly across her keyboard then she hands me a receipt). There you go.
Me: Great. Now I need to get a cashier’s check.
Teller: From the same account?
Me: Yes. Assuming that I have access to the check I just deposited.
Teller: No, you don’t. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning.
Me: (Sigh)
Teller: But if you’d like, I can cash that check, deposit the cash and then you can get a cashier’s check.
Me: Great. Anything to save me another trip. (I hand back the receipt and as she works on the keyboard again, the wheels in my mind begin to turn.) How come I don’t have access to that deposit right now?
Teller: Standard policy. Funds aren’t available until the next day.
Me: But you cashed the check.
Teller: You’re a loyal customer. We can do that for you.
Me: How is your ability to cash the check different than my having access to a deposit?
Teller: Because you deposited cash. You always have immediate access to deposited cash because cash is cash.
Me: But it worked the same way. I gave you a check, and you gave me access.
Teller: No, I cashed the check. I just didn’t show you the money. If it would make you feel better, I can give you the money, you can fill out a deposit slip, deposit the cash and then we can do the cashier’s check.
Me: No, by cashing this check, you are telling me this check is good right now. But if I just deposit it, someone somewhere will decide sometime tonight the check is good.
Teller: Yes, the computer.
Me: But you’re typing into a computer right now.
Teller: I’m entering the transaction. The computer will update your account tonight.
Me: So if I deposit a check for a million dollars, I can’t access it until tomorrow but you’d cash it for me today?
Teller: Let’s not get ridiculous.
Me: Well, what’s the threshold? $500? $1000? This could be important someday.
Teller: Do you want a cashier’s check or not?
Me: If I deposited the check instead of what you call cashing it, would you still give me the cashier’s check even though I don’t have enough money in my account?
Teller: Of course.
Me: But then I’d be overdrawn.
Teller: And the computer would charge you for it.
Me: Now I understand!
Teller: Okay, the fee for a cashier’s check is $7.
Me: Yeah, take it out of the account.
Teller: Do you need a cashier’s check? I can get you a money order for $4.
Me: What? Aren’t they the same thing?
Teller: No.
Me: Sure they are. When Sheriff Leroux gets either one, he knows it’s as good as cash. The difference is that a cashier’s check comes from a bank while a money order comes from a convenience store.
Teller: We sell money orders as well.
Me: What’s the difference?
Teller: $7 versus $4.
Later at another bank, I close down a business savings account:
Teller: May I ask why you are closing this account?
Me: Because of a monthly service charge of $5 and a 0.000001 interest rate. I’m better off keeping it under the mattress.
Teller: You only have $13 in the account. The $5 is a government regulation when you have less than $100 in the account.
Me: I see, but I also get charged for transfers from checking to savings and back again.
Teller: That’s also a government regulation if you do more than 6 in a month.
Me: Well that’s a drag because the account was a good place to store my sales tax so I wouldn’t spend it before I had to send it in to the state. At least I can blame it on Obama. So these fees go to the government?
Teller: No.
Me: I see. But it was the government’s idea?
Teller: Yes, exactly!
Me: And the banks fought it pretty hard because they value their customers?
Teller: Sir, it costs money to keep an account open.
Me: Really? I do online banking, get paperless statements, and you don’t pay any interest. I assume the bank president keeps it under his mattress.
Teller: You’re supposed to keep money in savings. Not move it back and forth. That’s why it’s called savings. The government wants to ensure that enough money stays in the bank.
Me: So if the government makes you do this, can’t you slip a little refund to your customers?
Teller: That would violate the spirit of the law. We can’t do that. We must do what the government tells us.
Me: So you don’t want to do it, but you’ll accept the fees anyway?
Teller: Yes.
A lot of people were against the recently passed financial legislation law because they were worried that banks would have to think of more creative ways to make money. Good news! I think they’re up to the challenge.
But rare occasions call for us to make the twenty-mile drive to the bank. Turns out I had to get a cashier’s check to pay a certain sheriff of a certain parish in Louisiana. That parish had a nice welcome center consisting of two police cars parked on the interstate in an area where you had about thirty feet to slow down from 70 to 55. Downhill. Some people would call this a speed trap, but I prefer to think of it more like a telethon. I’m happy to pledge some money so this parish can make its budget.
So I took my pledge card (plus a check from another bank to cover the funds) to the bank where I actually got to deal with a real live teller:
Me: I need to deposit this check.
Teller: Certainly. (her fingers fly across her keyboard then she hands me a receipt). There you go.
Me: Great. Now I need to get a cashier’s check.
Teller: From the same account?
Me: Yes. Assuming that I have access to the check I just deposited.
Teller: No, you don’t. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow morning.
Me: (Sigh)
Teller: But if you’d like, I can cash that check, deposit the cash and then you can get a cashier’s check.
Me: Great. Anything to save me another trip. (I hand back the receipt and as she works on the keyboard again, the wheels in my mind begin to turn.) How come I don’t have access to that deposit right now?
Teller: Standard policy. Funds aren’t available until the next day.
Me: But you cashed the check.
Teller: You’re a loyal customer. We can do that for you.
Me: How is your ability to cash the check different than my having access to a deposit?
Teller: Because you deposited cash. You always have immediate access to deposited cash because cash is cash.
Me: But it worked the same way. I gave you a check, and you gave me access.
Teller: No, I cashed the check. I just didn’t show you the money. If it would make you feel better, I can give you the money, you can fill out a deposit slip, deposit the cash and then we can do the cashier’s check.
Me: No, by cashing this check, you are telling me this check is good right now. But if I just deposit it, someone somewhere will decide sometime tonight the check is good.
Teller: Yes, the computer.
Me: But you’re typing into a computer right now.
Teller: I’m entering the transaction. The computer will update your account tonight.
Me: So if I deposit a check for a million dollars, I can’t access it until tomorrow but you’d cash it for me today?
Teller: Let’s not get ridiculous.
Me: Well, what’s the threshold? $500? $1000? This could be important someday.
Teller: Do you want a cashier’s check or not?
Me: If I deposited the check instead of what you call cashing it, would you still give me the cashier’s check even though I don’t have enough money in my account?
Teller: Of course.
Me: But then I’d be overdrawn.
Teller: And the computer would charge you for it.
Me: Now I understand!
Teller: Okay, the fee for a cashier’s check is $7.
Me: Yeah, take it out of the account.
Teller: Do you need a cashier’s check? I can get you a money order for $4.
Me: What? Aren’t they the same thing?
Teller: No.
Me: Sure they are. When Sheriff Leroux gets either one, he knows it’s as good as cash. The difference is that a cashier’s check comes from a bank while a money order comes from a convenience store.
Teller: We sell money orders as well.
Me: What’s the difference?
Teller: $7 versus $4.
Later at another bank, I close down a business savings account:
Teller: May I ask why you are closing this account?
Me: Because of a monthly service charge of $5 and a 0.000001 interest rate. I’m better off keeping it under the mattress.
Teller: You only have $13 in the account. The $5 is a government regulation when you have less than $100 in the account.
Me: I see, but I also get charged for transfers from checking to savings and back again.
Teller: That’s also a government regulation if you do more than 6 in a month.
Me: Well that’s a drag because the account was a good place to store my sales tax so I wouldn’t spend it before I had to send it in to the state. At least I can blame it on Obama. So these fees go to the government?
Teller: No.
Me: I see. But it was the government’s idea?
Teller: Yes, exactly!
Me: And the banks fought it pretty hard because they value their customers?
Teller: Sir, it costs money to keep an account open.
Me: Really? I do online banking, get paperless statements, and you don’t pay any interest. I assume the bank president keeps it under his mattress.
Teller: You’re supposed to keep money in savings. Not move it back and forth. That’s why it’s called savings. The government wants to ensure that enough money stays in the bank.
Me: So if the government makes you do this, can’t you slip a little refund to your customers?
Teller: That would violate the spirit of the law. We can’t do that. We must do what the government tells us.
Me: So you don’t want to do it, but you’ll accept the fees anyway?
Teller: Yes.
A lot of people were against the recently passed financial legislation law because they were worried that banks would have to think of more creative ways to make money. Good news! I think they’re up to the challenge.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Count Me In
There’s been a lot of complaining about filling out the 2010 census form. Complaints range from anti-government rhetoric to concerns about checking an ethnicity box to people who think it should be online to people that think it’s just too hard. The only people that have a legitimate complaint are those with outstanding warrants for their arrest. But then again they’re assuming the government is remarkably efficient.
Regardless, they are missing the big picture. I couldn’t wait to fill out my form to reap the benefits of the census, specifically, my own congressional district. Luckily, the census form allows you to specify an unlimited number of people living at your address. I bought a few reams of paper to add as attachments to my form. I started out adding names of my, uh, sons, daughters, cousins and miscellaneous relatives like Joe, Ann, Steve, Ricky, Amber but that grew tiresome. It’s much easier to generate sequential names. Meet my family:
AAAA cousin
AAAB cousin’s cousin
AAAC son
AAAD son’s invisible friend
All the way to:
ZZZZ great, great, great, great, great, great aunt
Which means that over 439,000 people live at my address: 1313 Mockingbird Lane. It’s crowded but we manage. Call my crazy? Why no, you can call me the esteemed gentleman from Texas after I’m granted my own congressional district and I elect myself to congress. Plus I should also get my own Great Republic State Legislative District which means I can simultaneously defend state’s rights while being a part of the cesspool that is Washington D.C. I can imagine the great debates with myself:
Me: I’m proud to have provided a heated swimming pool for my district under the National Defense Spending Bill with my special earmark for “The Study of Heated Hydro Therapy for Mockingbird Lane Residents and bikini clad guests.”
Me: There you go again raising the debt ceiling so you carpetbaggers can ram legislation down our throats and violating state’s rights. I should be the one that decides who gets to build a pool.
Me: Interstate commerce, son. That’s what this pool is about, and that’s why us Feds have the right to do that.
Me: What interstate commerce, you people hatin’, tax lovin’, pork belly swine?
Me: I expect we’ll be flying a lot of hookers in to accommodate fat cat campaign contributions.
Me: Well, you can’t trample on me and state’s rights. I propose to build a pool at 1313 Mockingbird Lane as well.
Me: Now that’s a fine idea.
But that’s not all. It also means another electoral vote for the Great Republic in the Electoral College. And I always wanted to go back to college. I miss the keggers, football/basketball games, and well, let’s just say I’m not necessarily committed to any candidate my Republic may elect. I’m just saying. You know where to find me. In the pool at 1313 Mockingbird Lane of course!
The only possible wrench to this plan is what if St. Pauli Girl votes for herself? That would mean a possible run-off which may never end. I would have to get AAAA registered to vote and have her vote for me. But that’s just wrong; I couldn’t do it. Instead I’ll just buy St. Pauli Girl’s vote with the promise of a new heated swimming pool.
Regardless, they are missing the big picture. I couldn’t wait to fill out my form to reap the benefits of the census, specifically, my own congressional district. Luckily, the census form allows you to specify an unlimited number of people living at your address. I bought a few reams of paper to add as attachments to my form. I started out adding names of my, uh, sons, daughters, cousins and miscellaneous relatives like Joe, Ann, Steve, Ricky, Amber but that grew tiresome. It’s much easier to generate sequential names. Meet my family:
AAAA cousin
AAAB cousin’s cousin
AAAC son
AAAD son’s invisible friend
All the way to:
ZZZZ great, great, great, great, great, great aunt
Which means that over 439,000 people live at my address: 1313 Mockingbird Lane. It’s crowded but we manage. Call my crazy? Why no, you can call me the esteemed gentleman from Texas after I’m granted my own congressional district and I elect myself to congress. Plus I should also get my own Great Republic State Legislative District which means I can simultaneously defend state’s rights while being a part of the cesspool that is Washington D.C. I can imagine the great debates with myself:
Me: I’m proud to have provided a heated swimming pool for my district under the National Defense Spending Bill with my special earmark for “The Study of Heated Hydro Therapy for Mockingbird Lane Residents and bikini clad guests.”
Me: There you go again raising the debt ceiling so you carpetbaggers can ram legislation down our throats and violating state’s rights. I should be the one that decides who gets to build a pool.
Me: Interstate commerce, son. That’s what this pool is about, and that’s why us Feds have the right to do that.
Me: What interstate commerce, you people hatin’, tax lovin’, pork belly swine?
Me: I expect we’ll be flying a lot of hookers in to accommodate fat cat campaign contributions.
Me: Well, you can’t trample on me and state’s rights. I propose to build a pool at 1313 Mockingbird Lane as well.
Me: Now that’s a fine idea.
But that’s not all. It also means another electoral vote for the Great Republic in the Electoral College. And I always wanted to go back to college. I miss the keggers, football/basketball games, and well, let’s just say I’m not necessarily committed to any candidate my Republic may elect. I’m just saying. You know where to find me. In the pool at 1313 Mockingbird Lane of course!
The only possible wrench to this plan is what if St. Pauli Girl votes for herself? That would mean a possible run-off which may never end. I would have to get AAAA registered to vote and have her vote for me. But that’s just wrong; I couldn’t do it. Instead I’ll just buy St. Pauli Girl’s vote with the promise of a new heated swimming pool.
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