Rambling Rhodes

Pope-Watch

'Last Rites' Not Always Sign of Death

Maybe not, but they're considerably less encouraging than "First Rites."

Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker. Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker. Dark Knight. Heath Ledger. Batman. The Joker.

Pat Bukkake

Via.

A History of Credit Cards

I've never been in debt. Okay, that's not entirely true. Yes, I've been in the kind of debt where I had to make car payments, and I'm currently in the kind of debt that says I have to make house payments.

I've never been in credit card debt, however. Truth be told, I've never even owned a credit card. I don't trust them. I've been conditioned not to trust them thanks to many years of living with college roommates.

Most of my college roommates had this weird outlook on credit cards. Basically, they thought credit cards were magical pieces of plastic that just magically paid for things and that they were somehow immune from the the ensuing debt that came about due to excessive credit card spending.

I'll admit it: I was sort of jealous of my roommates and their magical credit cards. After all, they always seemed to have money and, if they didn't, they just whipped out their credit cards. Books? Put them on the credit card. Food? Put it on the credit card. Night out at a strip club? credit card.

And yet there I was writing checks and budgeting like a fool. I remember thinking that I was doing everything all wrong. I mean, there I would sit, meticulously lording over my finances, while my roommates went waltzing all over town swiping their credit cards with the careless glee of a six-year-old with a loaded pistol.

Then, one year, I was a roommate with a guy named Chad. Chad was actually a former high school classmate of mine. He was, and is, a tech-head. He's one of those guys who was born to know technology. Way back in elementary school, he taught me how to write simple programs for the Apple IIc, and he always just seemed to know everything about computers.

But he didn't know shit about personal finances. He whipped out any one of his many credit cards with the swiftness and ease of a Old West gunslinger. By the time we became roommates, he had already accrued over $10,000 in credit card debt.

I remember thinking what an incredibly large amount of money that seemed to be, especially when I factored in the understanding that he also received financial aid, and that he also worked. Granted, he worked at the local Brach's candy factory on the Gummi Bear line, which paid about as well as you might imagine, but it was still money, so I came to the conclusion that old Chad was a pretty carefree spender.

Well, one day, I popped into Chad's outrageously messy room where I noticed, tucked between two huge bags of pilfered defective Gummi Bears, a credit card notice that was slugged "Urgent!" and another that was slugged "Immediate Payment Required" and still another that read "We Break Fingers And Toes."

Then the calls started coming in, usually two or three a day. "Is Mr. Haugen available? We really need to speak with him." No, he's not here. "Are you sure you're not really Mr. Haugen?" Yes, I'm sure. "Well, when he comes in, have him call Mike at Discover immediately." *sound of shotgun cocking* Will do.

Chad was masterful when it came to avoiding creditors. He always seemed to leave the apartment just two or three minutes before a creditor called. It was like he had some sort of sixth sense. Which was all fine and dandy, except that I ended up being the intermediary between Chad and the creditors, so I got to absorb all the impatient anger and suspicion of basically every credit card company on the planet.

It was the day a creditor appeared, in person, at our doorstep that I realized Chad's debt situation was probably more dire than Chad cared to admit. There was a knock at the door, I answered, and a gentleman in a suit that looked both impressive and threatening stood before me. He asked to see a Mr. Chad Haugen, at which point I heard a little scuffling emanating from Chad's room as Chad scurried out the back entrance which, conveniently, was located at the far end of his bedroom.

We chatted together, the ominous creditor and me, for about an hour, waiting for Chad to get home, even though, of course, there was no way in holy hell Chad was going to make an appearance while that guy was in our apartment. I even had to produce my ID, so the creditor was satisfied that I wasn't, in fact, Chad Haugen.

After that, I believe, Chad ended up getting a loan from his parents, or somebody, so he could pay off his credit card debt at least enough to keep the creditors at bay. He eventually got a job working at IBM, which was a long-assed commute from Winona to Rochester, but paid a whole lot more than the Gummi Bear line.

As for me, Chad's experience with credit cards pretty much scared me away from plastic for good.

Beware, College People, Beware

So, I couldn't decide whether this guy was being an amazingly mean jerk, or whether the little plagiarist sort of had it coming. Whatever the case, this just shows the amazing, and kinda creepy, power of the Internet to totally destroy someone's life, whether they had it coming or not.

The aftermath can be read here, which is kind of anti-climactic, but you do reach the conclusion the girl probably got expelled.

I'm Too Lazy To Write Something Interesting

So, I'll let someone else do it.

Attention Spans

Ryan says: Terri Schiavo. RIP.

Caroline says: who?

Ryan says: Heh.

Ryan says: The funny thing is, three months from now, that will be a legitimate question.

Caroline says: yeah.

I'm a double dipper

How about you?

Schiavo Living Will Discovered

Shocking New Document Reveals Desire To Be Political Football

PINELLAS PARK, Fla. (Rhodes Media Services) -- In an earth shattering announcement, lawyers in the Terri Schiavo case today announced they had discovered, in a previously unknown bank safety deposit box, a living will apparently penned by Terri Schiavo herself before the onset of her severe brain damage.

The newly-discovered will, although it doesn't state explicitly whether Schiavo desired the removal of artificial life-supporting measures in the event she could not make her wishes known, does state that, no matter what, she wanted to be thrust into the national spotlight and become a political football, at the expense of all dignity and privacy.

"I, Terri Schiavo, being of strong mind and body," begins the will. "Do hereby declare that I want the entire nation to be transfixed on my plight, whatever that plight may be, and to have that plight played over and over on the 24/7 cable news channels, while also prompting officials in the U.S. government to make Constitutionally-questionable decisions on my behalf. I hereby authorize the videotaping of my unresponsive body to be circulated to every major news outlet. Oh, and also, if you could demonize my husband and make him out to be an abusive wretch and basically destroy his reputation, that would be pretty funny, too. I'm sure he'd get a good laugh out of that. It would also be cool if protesters could make asses of themselves by putting tape over their mouths and stuff like that. That would be a nice touch."

lawyers on both sides of the issue, though disappointed that the living will does nothing to quell the debate, were deeply pleased that Schiavo's wishes had been so thoroughly carried out, without even realizing those were her exact wishes.

"Hey, sometimes you just get lucky like that," said one Schiavo attorney, speaking on condition of annonymity.

Now THAT'S how it's done

In today's Star-Tribune Letters To The Editor:

An opportunity to learn

Jen Sandbo, Bloomington.

Is there such a thing as an eating disorder gone right?

Hot Pants

*snort*

Having Just Argued With My Girlfriend Yesterday

I tend to endorse this.