Optimism

OK, so my phone said it was "cloudy," and about 50 degrees. I talked myself out of not going for a run, and about 15 minutes into it, the clouds burst into a torrential downpour, which continued for the entire duration of my run (5 miles). I guess I can't really blame the phone. The phone did not make it rain, I presume, and I did not ask it what the weather was going to be like 15 minutes from now. Still, I think it bears some responsibility. I'll own up to not specifically asking what the weather's going to be like in the future, but I know that the phone is capable anticipating things like this. After all, there seems to be no limit to its ability to push advertising products at me. Why not weather information?

I was soaked to the bone when I got home (figuratively only; the rain does not actually penetrate to the bone, at least not while one is alive, and I thought, "well, wet bones are probably better than dry bones.") I'm such an optimist. A wet-boned optimist.

Being Human

It's been six days and still, whenever I read about the Boston Marathon or see one of those jarring photographs, it feels like I've just been socked in the chest. And I can't get the images out of my head, so every so often I find myself clutching at something for support before I realize that I've just been socked in the chest again.

I almost ran the Boston Marathon, qualifying four years ago, and again three years ago, each time injuring my knee in the final stages of training. But that is not why I feel such intense empathy with the runners whose legs were blown off in the explosions. It is not because I am a runner that these images make me cringe in horror. No, it's just because I'm human.

The Boston Marathon jacket I have never worn and never will.

You know who else is human? The bombers. Well, one of them, anyway. The other is a former-human, and mostly I don't care about that, until it occurs to me that I am just as much like them as I am like the victims. We are all humans. We can call the bombers "monsters" or "mentally deranged" or even "evil," but that doesn't change the fact that in virtually every respect, they are almost exactly like me. No, I've never killed anyone before, and am confident that I will continue to resist the impulse to do so for the rest of my life. And I'm just as confident that almost every one of us is able to exercise the same restraint. Most of us just don't go around killing people. But some of us do.

And a great many of us commit other (obviously far less extreme and violent and horrible) acts on a pretty much day to day basis, that, while not causing people to die, do cause other humans a great deal of suffering and misery. Take me, for instance.

I spent the last 15 years as a collections attorney, and I was good at it. During that 15 years, I filed thousands of lawsuits, which, frankly, I did not look at very closely. There was no time for that, because of the thousands of motions for default judgment, and the thousands of wage garnishments and bank garnishments and executions that I was also filing.

And every one of those documents was a part of a process that caused other people suffering and misery.  I've helped to ruin a lot of lives, in other words. The process, in its simplest sense, involved taking money away from poor people and giving it to rich people ("people" who's names generally ended in 'Inc.'). And there are thousands of other collections attorneys doing pretty much the same thing every day. And these attorneys have large support staffs, and the agencies and firms for whom they work employ thousands of people, and the clients for whom they are collecting employ thousands more, all working toward the same end -- to take money away from poor people and give it to rich people.

Rows and rows of cubicles, filling collections agencies all over the country, are staffed with "customer service representatives" (yes that is what they call them, but from now on I will call the "collectors," which is far more accurate), wearing headsets attached to phones that automatically dial the phones of  poor people all day long, and ask them for money, often not very politely, and often knowing quite well that these people have no money to pay. But it's their job. And it is a full-time job. They do it for eight hours a day, five days a week. And the more money they can collect for their clients, the more money they make, in the form of "commission" or "bonuses." They are highly motivated, and do not like taking no for an answer.

Computer professionals work diligently to improve software that will allow court documents to be filed more quickly and more efficiently, so that even more lawsuits and judgments and garnishments can be filed against even more people, with increasingly less human oversight, which, let's face it, is expensive.

It is all done legally, of course (well, mostly). The process is made easier by judges who spend no more time reviewing the documents than the lawyers did. Increasingly, the documents are not even signed, but filed electronically. It's possible for them to be filed with no human actually looking at them at all!

It can all be justified, of course. We humans can justify anything. "They do owe the money, after all." "They can always hire their own attorney and dispute the lawsuit." (While I cannot count the number of lawsuits I filed, I can count the number of trials I had: one.) "If only they'd exercised more personal responsibility, they wouldn't be in this situation." All true, in a way.

I have seen close-up the misery I helped cause. I have seen the faces of the people whose lives I helped to ruin. Some of them are angry, some are just very sad. Most are confused and have no idea what is happening to them. Many have simply given up and drift about like ghosts ("dead souls" Chekhov might call them).

How many lives I  have I helped to ruin? I have no idea. Too many to count. I am aware of one who committed suicide, but that can be justified too. My client wasn't her only creditor, after all. And besides, she must have really depressed, even before I sued her and garnished her bank account and the attorney for the mortgage company foreclosed on her house.

I am only picking on the collection industry because it's what I know, and I said at the beginning that I was going to start with me. There are other industries that are just as good or even better at ruining peoples lives: drug companies, insurance companies, mortgage companies, the auto industry, the gun industry,  for starters. Maybe the company you work for ruined a few lives today. I don't know.

We don't do it on purpose, necessarily, but we do it.Over and over and over again. Does this make us as bad as the bombers? Of course not, obviously. It's all just part of being human.

I Love the Talking Heads!

(Note: This was adapted from a comment I posted in a thread, which ranked the Talking Heads albums from "worst to first.")

First of all, when it comes to Talking Heads albums, they are ALL good. Very good. You cannot buy a "bad" Talking Heads album. So, why even talk about their "worst" albums? There aren't any. With that in mind, here are my favorite Talking Heads albums, in order from very best to least best:

1. Remain in Light. Terribly risky record, with the introduction of new musicians, new sounds, etc., but goddamn it, everything works here. There's not a soft spot on it. This is the Talking Heads at the absolute peak of their powers. (I dunno what Tina and Chris and Jerry may have felt about the addition of new musicians, and the apparent domination of their "sound" by Brian Eno and David Byrne, but I have to imagine that they were excited about being part of this new sound, this new feeling, that was simultaneously ancient and also brand fucking new.) This is a beautiful record, and, in my opinion one of the very best records ever made by anyone.

2. Fear of Music. See above. This record does not quite achieve the heights of Remain in Light, but it comes goddamn near close. And there's nothing anywhere that touches "Heaven," or "Life During Wartime." They were on such a creative roll at this time, that they could do no wrong. I swear to God, even when David Byrne is singing about animals living on "nuts and berries," you are riveted. This is great stuff. (And one of the best album covers ever, by the way.)

3. More Songs About Buildings and Food. (Are you sensing a trend here? Well, your sense will be confirmed with my number 4 pick.) These are brilliant, quirky songs, that I can only imagine were an absolute blast to play live, every damn one of them. Their cover of Al Green's "Take Me to the River" is spectacular, and at the same time, must bow to the closer, "The Big Country," as the best song on this record. There are no weak spots here. This record is solid from beginning to end. (I bought this at K-Mart, by the way; not sure why I remember this.)

4. '77. This is the blueprint. Everything is here, if sometimes in a slightly (only very slightly) messy form. The crazy rhythms, the quirky singing, the bizarre lyrics, the FUN. OMG, this record is so much fun! "Psycho Killer"! "Don't Worry About the Government!" I love it, love it, love it! And frequently reach for it first when I'm jonesin' for some Talking Heads.

I continue, even now, decades later, to listen to these first four records on a semi-regular basis, and I never regret putting one on. I truly love every minute of every one of them. These are their four "gold star" or "5 star" or whatever you want to call it, records. They are all beautiful, and if they were my children, I would have to tell each of them, almost daily, and always privately, that I love each of you just as much as I love your sisters, but I also love your sisters just as much as I love you. And after a while, they would just have to understand.

5. OK, so now the 80s come along, and things start to get a little shaky. They stop putting out a new album of new material every year. Instead, we get a live album (The Name of This Band is Talking Heads, which is fantastic, by the way. One of the best live albums I have ever heard. I love the way it is sequenced. It is, in a way, a re-telling of their story up until now, beginning with live performances of the early songs performed by the original four members, who absolutely nail these songs that they've been playing now for years. These guys are good. No doubt about it. Gradually, new elements are added, new musicians, new sounds, until by the end, we get a raucous Remain in Light orchestral conclusion. Brilliant and beautiful. No new material here, but so wonderfully performed, that it is almost a substitute for the first four records.

6. Speaking in Tongues. This is the first misstep, but only a slight one. "Burning Down the House," which opens the record, is magnificent. "This Must Be the Place," which closes it, is beautiful and sad and melancholy and makes you want to start the whole record over again. But, when you do, you run into things like "Making Flippy Floppy" and "Moonrocks" and other songs that just don't really work, and you start to worry. This is the first Talking Heads record I purchased on CD, and I admit, I made use of the skip feature.

7. Little Creatures, like "Speaking in Tongues," is inconsistent (still a new thing for the Talking Heads). It is softer than "SIT" and maybe easier on the ears. (It could as easily be 6 rather than 7; these two albums, to me, are basically tied.) And, once again, as with SIT, the best songs are the opener ("And She Was," a crazy, fun song about a flying woman that somehow manages to make you sympathize with crazy flying women), and the closer, "Road to Nowhere," which is like no Talking Heads song I'd ever heard before, but is still unmistakably a "Talking Heads" song.

8. Naked. OK, now we're getting to the end of the road. But don't knock this record. It is probably the least best Talking Heads record ever (#9, below, hardly counts as a proper "Talking Heads" record), but it's not that bad. The song "Flowers," for example, is beautiful, a paean to the good old days before the earth took over again, reducing our Pizza Huts to fields of daisies and cornfields. Clever and pretty and just plain sweet. Unfortunately, there just wasn't much else here, and this was obviously the end of the line for them. But not a bad farewell. And if you haven't listened to it in a while, listen to it again. There is plenty of good stuff here. Really. I know it's hard though, because when you want to hear the Talking Heads, this is not really what you want to hear.

9. True Stories. From what I understand, this barely counts as a Talking Heads record at all. More of a David Byrne vanity project. But that's okay. "Love For Sale" and "Wild Wild Life" are great. But there's also quite a bit of filler. And the movie was lame. (Sorry! But, yeah, you know I'm right.) Still, If I had made nine albums in my career, and this was the "worst" of them, or the "least best" of them (according to some dope in Lincoln, Nebraska), I'd feel still be pretty damned proud.

So, yeah. No fucking shit. The Talking Heads were great. Their first four albums were as good as any first four albums that anyone has ever made. I would stack them against Roxy Music and Elvis Costello and the Ramones and Bruce Springsteen and the Clash and . . . one or two others that escape my mind. Maybe they (or at least their "leader") got a little too ambitious, and then maybe they tried to scale back again to recapture their original innocence, and maybe that didn't quite work out, but what the hell. These guys were goddamned good. No, I take that back. They were really fucking great.

Just a Couple of Idiots

From today's Lincoln Journal-Star:

Number 1.  Oscar Wilde Shad Chandler, convicted of having sex with a 14-year old girl, told the court at his sentencing hearing that "I have regrets over this whole thing." 

This was Shad's second sentencing hearing, the first having been continued after Shad ate a kleenex in court. As a precaution, the kleenex box was moved out of Shad's reach for the duration of the hearing

After hearing his client speak out loud, one can only imagine Shad's attorney (perhaps resting a gentle hand on Shad's shoulder, but  then again, maybe not, but definitely leaning in close), and whispering, "Hey, Shad, you really don't have to say anything. You can remain mute." But poor, dumb, sad Shad doesn't know what "mute" means, and anyways, he really just gots to get this thing off his chest. It's important, dammit. 

He shrugs his attorney's hand away defiantly and continues, clearing his throat and saying: "I just feel real bad about everything." The courtroom, despite the solemnity of the proceedings, erupts into howls of laughter, and Shad is led away in chains.

"I just feel real bad about everything."

BTW, "Shad"? Really? Did his parents want this to happen?

Number 2.  Carlene Schrag wrote the following in a letter to the editor:

"Stabbings on a college campus. Bombs in Boston. They are reminders that PEOPLE kill people."

So now we live in a world where death by anything other than gunshot is a cause to celebrate our lack of gun control laws. And she didn't even use the word "gun." She didn't have to. The terrorists gun lobbyists have won a complete and total victory.

 (BTW, Carlene, I would suggest either substituting "knives" for "stabbings" in the first incomplete sentence, or "bombings" for "bombs" in the second. I know, I know -- too late now. Just keep it mind the next time Wayne LaPierre that voice in your head tells you to write a letter to the editor.)

Nebraska's Debtor's Prisons

Medieval British Debtor's Prison:

Modern American Debtor's Prison:

I imagine the conditions at the Lancaster County, Nebraska Detention Center are better than they were at St. Briavel's Castle in England (pictured above). The food is surely better (after all, St. Briavel's Castle is in England). There are surely fewer rats. And you don't generally have to stay very long in an American debtor's prison. Just until you can post bond or until the collections attorney who had you arrested gets around to conducting a debtor's exam. But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, a short primer on how this works.

Here's how to get sent to jail for owing money in Nebraska:

• Apply for, and receive, a credit card.
• Use the credit card, run it up to the limit, say $500.
• Lose your job. 
• The Credit Card company will start sending you letters, with an increasingly urgent tone and font-size, but will not take any legal action for at least 6 months, because that's about how long it takes for the "default interest rate" on the credit card (often more than 30% annually, compounded -- it's all in that tissue-thin piece of paper with the very tiny print that came with your card called "Cardmember Agreement" or the like, which of course you never read), to push the total dollar amount up to one that is worth suing over. 
• Once that $500 hits $1500 or $2000 (or whatever this particular credit card company's "guidelines" specify), they will sue you. You may be served by a sheriff's deputy or a "constable" (who will probably just leave a note on your door and ask you to come down to the station house to pick up some papers, which you may or may not ever get around to doing. Or, you may be served by certified mail, or, (and this is a fairly recent development), UPS or FedEx. 
• You blow it off. And don't tell me you won't, because I know you will. Okay, maybe not you, specifically. Maybe you're one of the one percent who files a written response to a credit card lawsuit, requiring them to get a summary judgment against you, rather than a judgment by default. But it really doesn't matter. They will beat you in the end.
• After 30 days, the credit card company's lawyer will sign a large stack of affidavits, requesting judgments in dollar amounts the credit card company says it is owed. One of them will have your name on it. The attorney won't notice your name, because she does not actually read these affidavits, except to check for obvious computer-generated errors. One of her assistants will notarize them later and a "runner" will take them to the courthouse and have them filed.
• A few days later, you'll get a postcard from the court. There won't be a picture on it, just a dollar-amount that will probably shock you.
• Now the credit card company can garnish your wages, if you have any. Or your bank account, if you have one. They can take ("non-exempt") property from you and sell it. 
• How do they know where you work, or where you bank? How do they find out what property you might have that they can take?
• They schedule a debtor's examination. 
• You are summoned by sheriff to appear in court on a certain date and at a certain time and to bring with you certain papers and be prepared to answer questions under oath. And if you fail to appear, a warrant will be issued for your arrest.
• They can't be serious, right? You toss this paperwork with the rest and forget about. (Don't do this, by the way. It's a very bad idea.)
• And a couple weeks later, you're driving home from a friend's house and you get pulled over for having a broken taillight. You'd been planning to get that fixed, just as soon as you got your next unemployment check, but that's not until Tuesday. You curse yourself silently, but figure, what the hell, you'll probably just get a warning, a "fix-it" ticket. And you'll definitely get that taillight fixed right away.
• Instead, you are immediately arrested and taken straight to jail, because there is a warrant out for your arrest, and yes, they were serious.
• So now you're in jail because you spent $500 on a credit card and couldn't pay it (and for being an idiot for not going to court when you were summoned to appear). Now you owe them over $2,000 and still can't pay it. And you're in jail. And you can't fucking believe this is happening. But it is. It is happening every single day to people just like you in Lincoln and Omaha (and elsewhere in the state, on a smaller scale).
• You can't bond out, because you have no money, so you sit in jail until the next scheduled debtor's exam. (In Lincoln, they are every Friday morning at 8:30 in courtroom 21; in Omaha, they are every morning, except Thursdays, at 9:00 in courtroom 20.) 
• So, depending on whether you were arrested in Lincoln or Omaha and on which day you were picked up, you will spend between one and six  nights in jail.
• When the day of the examination hearing arrives, you are led, with the other debtors, in orange jumpsuits, your shackles linked together by a chain, into the courtroom, where an attractive young attorney goes from one of you to the next asking where you work and where you bank and whether you own or rent your home, and the whole thing takes no more than five minutes, and then you are "processed" and released.

You sign the paperwork acknowledging that your personal belongings weren't stolen from you while you sat in jail, which you're not really sure of because you don't remember what was in your pockets that night, but it's not like you'd make a stink about that even if something were missing. You get dressed and step outside and squint in the noonday sun, and think to yourself, "Well, at least I've got my freedom."

Except, not really. Because you still owe that credit company more than $2,000, and that pretty attorney lady? She can do this all over again tomorrow, and she will if the credit card company tells her to. Next time, though, you'll probably show up in court the first time. 

And that's how a credit card company can put a person in jail in Nebraska in 2013.

"Willful Cultural Ignorance"

This is the title of an article in today's AV Club (http://www.avclub.com/articles) Basically, their writers weigh in on various cultural phenomena that they have intentionally ignored for one reason or other (e.g., Harry Potter, Twilight, Charlie Sheen, etc.). Anyway, it's a fun article. You should read it.

But there are a few things that they failed to ignore, and I feel compelled to add to the list.

1. E.T. You know, that movie where that kid who looks sort of like "Mikey" from those 1970s Life Cereal commercials, who befriends a magical space alien with a flying bicycle, who at some point "phones home"? (Haha.) Yeah, I hate it. Don't get me wrong -- I've never seen it, and I never will, unless someday I find myself strapped to a chair with my eyes pried open, Clockwork Orange-style, and am forced to watch it as some kind of nightmarish "therapy" session. (I won't rule that out entirely, but it seems unlikely.) The first word that pops into my head when I think about this movie is "sentimental." Which, to me, is practically a synonym for "terrible."

2. Justin Bieber. I can tell you, honestly, that I have never heard a single song by this child. Ever. Now, I am definitely not one of those people who go around spouting off about how "life is precious," etc. Because it isn't. Life is common and messy and gross, and ultimately not really worth a damn. But still, there is only so much time. We just plain don't live very long. Fifty, sixty, seventy years ("three score and ten", blah blah blah). For virtually the entire history of the universe, we don't even exist. We are dead, most of the time. So, why, oh my God why, would anyone spend three minutes of this tiny allotment of time listening to this silly little boy sing one of his songs? There is no reason. You could spend that three minutes staring off into space. Or shitting. Or strangling a chicken. Whatever.

3. "Family Guy." I have never watched an entire episode of this show, which, I am told, is intended to be funny. It is not funny. I know this because I have seen previews for it. (Seriously, most of the time, you really can judge a book by its cover.) It is low-grade, moronic, "frat boy" humor ("OMG! His chin looks like testicles! Ha! Ha! Ha!"), and the animation is lousy. Just thinking about this awful show and its awful creator makes me sad. There are people who like this. There shouldn't be.

4. Twitter. Okay, I admit to having a twitter account, and I have used it. And about once every six months, I log in again, and try, again, to figure out what the fucking point of it is. Which is a huge hassle, because I've forgotten my password, again, or my username, or both, and they have to email it to me, and by the time I finally get logged in, I'm already irritated and bored. But I poke around anyway, and read some "tweets" and wonder, yet again, what the hell? Why does this exist.

5. Larry the Cable Guy. Do I really need to add anything here?

I could go on. And on, and on. I really have ignored many, many things. And will ignore many more things. I could write a highly uninformative book about all the things I ignore, but I probably won't quite get around to it. At least not anytime soon.

"I have no stenographer!"

Owing to the lack of a stenographer, there will be no blog today or tomorrow probably goddamnit.