It occurred to me recently that I've pretty much mastered the art of dealing with collection agencies. To be fair, I'm not referring to overdue credit card balances, or anything else that potentially would harm you long term. I'm talking about instances where you haven't been actually charged by your bank and had a credit deposit, I'm talking about instances where you basically owe money in theory. To use an old example, the now defunct Columbia House Record Club and their "12 CDs for a penny" deal. You signed an agreement to buy CDs later at full price, but you hadn't actually been charged anything. So here now are Pete's tips for beating a collection agency: Tip #1: You don't owe the Collection Agency fucking shit Collection agencies are hired by the company you owe money to. Those inflated bills that they mail you/call you about includes their fee they've added in, because that's the amount they are charging the company for their services, and so it follows that the company that hired them wants you to foot the bill. If you choose to pay the company anything, pay them directly and ignore the collection agency notices. Once that happens, the notices will stop coming, because you personally don't owe the collection agencies fucking shit. Tip #2: You can wait out the calls, and they'll eventually stop It used to be that a collection agency could call you at home 15 times a day to collect, which would result in more bills being paid to avoid nervous breakdowns. Nowadays with cell phones being the norm, you can see who's calling you and choose to not pick up the phone. Oh, they'll still call you 15 times a day, and on top of it they'll call using different phone numbers. I found a relatively simple solution: Label all the unknown numbers you get, so they're easier to ignore. I had a list of "Jerks #1-#7" on my phone, many of which who have been trying to collect for several years now. Instead of furrowing my brow at an unrecognized number, I got the satisfaction of seeing the word "Jerks" show up on my caller ID every time one of those jerks called. So hang tight on that $400 bill from 2004 that you owe the Ohio State Medical Center, they'll eventually wear themselves out and stop calling. Tip #3: Read this article I found, which sums some things up nicely: http://www.debt.org/credit/collection-agencies/secrets/ Tip #4: Check this Love in An Escalator outtake, from 2010. (The song eventually became what is known as "Reagan's Got the Bomb." Collection Agency <---- Click here Lyriques: I won’t pay, kiss my ass I’ll just sit at home and laugh You’ll just have to take a bath On what you say I owe I won’t pay a bit For this made up shit Get your records straight And get the fuck off of my phone Tip #5: Fuck the collection agencies, they're a bunch of wimps, stay strong, you can do it
This teacher I had in middle school used to call me "Fogsville," because I always looked spaced out. What an awful person she was.
This is the story of how Madonna went from being a dishwasher in Brooklyn to arguably the biggest star in the world. It all started with a dream, a dream that was realized when her manager saw her perform at a talent show. The message is to never give up, because Madonna was once just like you. Your dreams won't chase themselves. Download now!-->>Madonna Was Once Just Like You
Here's a demo of a new song called The Bodyguard. It's from the perspective of the woman, who is trying to come to terms with letting the Bodyguard go. She knows that they are not good for each other, and that the Bodyguard has acted far too selflessly towards her, and that the Bodyguard needs to put himself first for once. Also, she notes that "I won't run to you anyway," indicating that any effort on his part would be in vain. Download now! ----->>>> The Bodyguard
As many of you know, I was raised in a Baptist family. From the time I was born until I was about 16, I went to church with my family every Sunday. We went to three different churches during that time; A church in Cleveland, a second church in Twinsburg, and a third church in my hometown of Aurora, Ohio. During this time, I saw and heard some crazy things. Electric Grandmother Inc., in cooperation with Sitcom-Core Co., is proud to present TALES FROM CHURCH. CLEVELAND: 1978-1984(?) This is obviously the foggiest era with the least amount of available detail. - Believe it or not, one of my most vivid memories of going to church in Cleveland was looking into the church nursery and seeing this little boy sticking his poop covered butt in the air while some woman wiped it. His name was Alex, and the poop smelled horribly. It was probably the most revolting thing I had ever seen up to that point. Later that day, I saw the boy running around while his dad chased and called out to him, "Alex...Alex..." It looked like he still had poop in his pants. - Once we were at the church for a night gathering, and this teenage boy was whirling around this paper cut-out of a bee attached to a string. It made a bee-buzzing sound while he whirled it, and it was outstanding. I asked him to keep doing it over and over, and he kept saying "Mmm-K!" - My favorite hymn was Holy, Holy, Holy, because I thought it was really loud and intense.
If I ever again see a bigger kid bullying a smaller kid, I'm going to intervene and convince the bully that I'm the little kid from the future, and that I came back to kick the crap out of him. I haven't seen a kid being bullied as of late, it was just a thought I had.
Girl Meets World made it's debut last night on the Disney Channel, and it sucked. First of all, I don't know who the heck those two little girls were. I hated them. Cory and Topanga weren't on the show enough, and there weren't enough jokes. Everything moved really fast, because that's how kids today think. I wanted to kill them. There was a boy who was supposed to be Minkus. I hated his guts. There was a hunky boy that was supposed to be Shaun, and I even hated him. You can't go home again, Martha. I wish they were dead. I don't know why they didn't try harder. Does it hurt to try? I don't know, maybe it does. Maybe this was their best try, and this was the best they could do. I don't why there is so much hate in the world. I'm not certain why there are wars, disease, and famine, it's just a part of life we have to accept. I don't know why some people seemingly have to suffer their whole lives, while others are tremendously fortunate. I think those of us who are fortunate should really appreciate what we have, because others aren't so lucky. We should also make a point to reach out to those who are suffering, and offer gentle compassion. Only when we offer compassion to others will we begin to offer compassion to ourselves, and therein my friends, lies the key.
So the other night, Mary Alice and I were watching the world famous special from 2003 called Living With Michael Jackson, starring Martin Bashir as the interviewer, and Jacko as the interviewee. It was even more strange than we remembered, and if you've never seen it, I pity you. This interview was infamous for implying that Michael Jackson was a dangerous pedo, which although was somewhat of a retread of 1993, refreshed the idea in everyone's mind. For the record, my purely speculative guess is that the guy probably didn't do it, which is totally and completely based on a hunch, and not at all based on any scientific research. Mary Alice and I were laughing at Michael Jackson's pain throughout the evening, and we specifically recalled the 1993 video statement from Neverland Valley (see above photo), and we were trying to approximate what he said in the video, and one of us (I think it was her?) offered "They photographed my penis," in a mocking, high-pitched Michael Jackson voice. The rest, of course, is history. Download/Stream Now! ----->>> They Photographed My Penis
What sucked about faking being sick to leave school early is that you had to keep the ruse up throughout the entire process. For example, you had to fake being sick to get out of class. Then, you had to put on a show for the nurse. Then, you had to sound sick when you called home. Then, you had to act sick while waiting to get picked up. Then, you had to act sick on the way home, and then for the rest of night. Hardly seems worth it in retrospect, unless part of your plan was to stay home the next day, too.
When you get home from church, don't just throw your dress clothes in a heap on the goddamn floor. Hang them up nicely so you can wear them next Sunday.
The one and only Dan Pantzig has just covered what is probably our best known song, "Miami is Nice." Dan is a true unsung talent, and an American hero who fought in the Korean War. He never fails to impress, check it out.
I see a lot of posts about our school system from both teachers and parents on my feed. A lot of finger pointing, one side blaming the other about shit getting fucked. As neither a parent nor teacher, here’s what I think: Neither side is really to blame, it’s mostly institutional. The idea that we ask 14-year old children to act in a manner that determines the course of the rest of their lives is astounding to me. Remember what you were like at 14? You’re a couple years removed from playing with toys, and now it’s up to you to decide whether or not you’re going to be weeded out, whether or not you’re going to choose to be an opportunist, to capitalize. At 14, I was more concerned about just surviving the suburban nightmare that was my hometown. I can’t imagine what it must be like for an impoverished child. So then, if the 14-year old child is unable to decide whether or not to capitalize, they’re given mind-altering drugs. Children. Children in classrooms of 300, in front of a 35-year old with two kids at home, and they’re drugged out of their minds. And they’re expected not only to survive, but to capitalize. Everyone should be ashamed of themselves, except for me. Now that I’ve solved that problem, let me move on to the fact that we allow 16-year old children to operate 2,000 pound weapons of mass destruction. Do you know how young 16 is? It’s young. That’s why teenagers get involved in the highest accident rate per capita, because they’re stupid and their minds are mushy and drugged up. Granted my opinion is biased, because I did not know how to operate a motor vehicle, and almost died as a result. But the numbers don’t lie. That’s why I propose that we push the driving license age up to 18, and have a taxi service for children under 18 called “KIDZ CAB,” with a ‘Z’ instead of an ‘S’, so it appeals more to today’s youth. Wanna go on a date with a foxy mama, but don’t want your mom to drive you? Call KIDZ CAB. The end, cased closed. But those communist-fascists would never go for it, because car accidents are too important to the economy because they drive up insurance rates. There is blood on your hands, Progressive. And we could paint KIDZ CAB funky colors, too. Let them know that we understand.
Here is Part One of the interview we did over the weekend with Pilot Waves, check out our blah blah yakkety yak!