Megan McArdle, illuminating a very real issue:
Very old debts are very difficult to collect, because they disappear from credit reports after seven years, and after a state’s statute of limitation on debt collections expires, the collector can’t even sue. So these wily collectors either hope that the debtor feels bad about being a deadbeat and wants to clear his good name . . . or that he doesn’t know the law. And when hope fails, collectors frequently resort to less savory tactics such as threatening to sue (legal), threatening to have you arrested (it may be legal to make the threat, but they can’t actually make good on it) or impersonating a law enforcement officer who is going to come arrest you (very, very, very illegal).
I had this happen to me about seven years ago: some clown with a very suspicious accent demanding that I pay a debt they claimed I owed the phone company at my last apartment in Pennsylvania. I knew it was preposterous, because when I moved from Pennsylvania I made a determined effort to clear all debts that I had compiled, and even put a note in my Quicken of the “last phone bill” I paid. These fools cared not one wit: They had bought debt that had my name attached to it, they didn’t know any more about it than that, and they were going to call me and harass me over the phone until I gave in.
They did not know who they were dealing with. I told them to go ahead and sue me countless times. They called back. I dealt with them politely. They called back. I told them to perform acts physically impossible and morally heinous. They called back. What they refused to do was provide one solitary piece of evidence that I owed anybody anything.
Finally, I contacted my local Federal Trade Commission office. The gentleman there pointed me in the direction of a piece of legal boiler plate demanding validation of the debt and cessation of contact until debt was validated. I sent it via certified mail so they could not deny they had received it. The next time they called I told them I had sent that letter and would not say anything further on the phone.
A few days later I received a note from them claiming they had passed the imaginary debt on to some other set of sharpies who never contacted me.
Don’t let the bastards bully you.
So Matt Walsh made the mistake of tacking against the wind during the Internet’s mourning of a beloved celebrity’s demise. This means, of course, that he is a horrible person and a religious nut. It also means we have to pretend that we didn’t spend the last few years of that beloved celebrity’s life making fun of him; WE’RE LOOKING AT YOU SETH MCFARLANE!
Matt has chosen to respond by saying “Hey, you know, suicide is not a thing we should be honoring.”
And he’s right. And we hate that he’s right. So we’ll kill the messenger. It’s what we do.
Archbishop Tomasi also complained that a “certain indifference” to Christian suffering in Iraq existed in the international community.
“It is difficult to convince—because of false modesty, I would say—the Western powers to take a strong stance in defense of the Christians,” Tomasi said.
That’s the polite way of putting it.
Good lord, but the bots are targeting me of late. Every comment for the past week reads something like:
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At Medium.com, a brief scene in which Kaiser Wilhelm II interrogates his generals.
View story at Medium.com
Sometimes it’s hard to know when an idea is so crazy that someone advocating it is pulling your leg.
I’ll admit it: when I read this paragraph…
The fact of the matter is, if it weren’t natural, I wouldn’t still produce milk, and it wouldn’t feel good to breast feed my son. Because of the sexual repression of women, there’s little information on the sexual nerve receptors in the nipple and the rest of the titty, but when a baby sucks on a woman’s breast she experiences a bit of sexual pleasure. When a man does it, she receives even more pleasure because the breast is sensitive to facial hair, and now that my son Mason is old enough to grow facial hair, our breastfeeding sessions have become even more pleasurable for me.
…my immediate response was literally this:
And when I say “literally”, I mean I held my phone, on which I initially read it, an arm’s length away, saying “what even the f—-!”
But the last line (thankfully) gives the game away…
I’m going to keep breast feeding my son until my body decides that it’s time to stop, and I get the feeling that my body isn’t producing milk because Mason needs it, it’s producing milk because my body knows that we live in a problematic society that discourages women from letting their children suck on their boobs in public. That and I have a hormonal imbalance.
Now, I’m not entirely certain what the target of the satire is. Crunchy Uber-Breastfeedery Anti-Vaccer types, most likely, with perhaps a last snook cocked at Third Wave Feminism. But in any case, at least half the commenters don’t get it. Which is either the sign of good satire, or more evidenced that mass media and irony don’t mix.
Which is to say, the dearth of posting at this blog will be entirely blamed on the arrival of my youngest daughter, who blessed us earlier this month.
All babies come out with the “Duuuude…” expression.
When normal blogging will resume, I cannot say. Babies are attention machines, and it’s summer.