Monday, March 31, 2008

The Hannaford's Savings Plan

Is when you do your grocery shopping at Hannaford's because it is a little cheaper than Shaws
But at some point Hannaford's security is breached

So In March you discover hackers have been stealing shoppers' credit card numbers

For the past 3 months

So you call the bank where the (slightly cranky) customer service rep tells you that your atm/debit card number has been compromised

Sadly she can't describe what that means

So you cancel your atm/debit card and commit to looking at your account statements with a fine tooth comb*

Then you call the credit card company

A (polite) customer service rep tells you that your number may have been taken

But you have zero liability for fraudulent purchases and their computers are monitoring the situation extra closely

At this point you are skeptical of computers

Or at least the people who interpret their data

After all it took Hannaford's 3 months to detect the hackers in the system

So on a paranoid whim you cancel your credit card too

Which leaves you with no atm/debit card and no credit card for 5-7 business days

And of course no cash in your pocket

An effective way to limit impulse purchases

The only disadvantage is that this savings plan is short-term

As you imagine your savings account growing due to decreased spending

You may fantasize that this frugalness will continue

When it is no longer forced

In the end though

The second the plastic returns, your Hannaford's savings plan will evaporate.

*mixed metaphors are a symptom of flusteredness, and by golly you are flustered right now.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Doctor Knows Best?

I certainly trust my doctor. In fact, it would never occur to me that she might withhold treatment from ME because it runs counter to HER beliefs.

My guess is that if George W. feels about the same way: He expects his doctors’ actions are guided by his health, not their ideology. If he gets sick, he surely counts on getting every medically indicated treatment necessary.

Maybe not though. His public actions certainly indicate otherwise. His administration has come out against an American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) policy that requires docs to at least let their patients know about evidence based standards of care, even if they won’t perform specific procedures. Duh.

Not surprisingly, abortion, emergency contraception, and birth control are what Bush is fine with doctors denying their patients. I find that unacceptable, both because women should be able to access those procedures, and because withholding treatment based on counter-factual ideology sets a scary precedent.

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Why Aren't You Blogging?

My excuse tonight is reading Stone Butch Blues for the 3rd time (at least).

The first few times, unable to concentrate on anything but what would happen to Jess, I read for the plot. The action part of the plot. Would Jess survive? What does survival mean? Now I am savoring the emotion. Feinberg’s writing isn’t the most eloquent, or original, but it gets me every time.

Sometimes it even gets me to smile unexpectedly:

“Scabs,” we all screamed as the cops tried to help them cross our lines and take our jobs away. Hundreds of us strained at the barricades, and the cops held the scabs back.

“Faggots!” some of our guys yelled at the strikebreakers. All the butches pulled back from the police barricades. The word seared like burning metal.

“Duffy,” I pulled his arm. “What’s this faggot shit.”

Duffy appeared torn in ten directions. “Alright,” he said. “Listen up you guys. Stop with the faggot stuff. They’re scabs.” The men looked confused.

A light bulb lit up over Walter’s head. “Aw, shit.” He extended his hand to me. “We didn’t mean you guys.”

I shook his hand. “Listen,” I said, “call them whatever you want, but don’t call them faggots.”

Walter nodded. “Agreed.”

“You cocksuckers! You motherfuckers!” they shouted instead.

I pushed forward at the barricade. “You fucking scabs,” I yelled. “You have sex with other men.”

The guys looked baffled. What’s she talking about?” Sammy wanted to know.

“You have intercourse with your own mother,” I screamed.

“That’s disgusting,” Walter said.