Like most people, I receive unsolicited credit card offers, on occasion.
Whether we like them nor not, credit cards have become a modern-day necessity. So, I try to maximize their purchasing power by using them to accumulate free airline mileage or bonus cash.
Just about every major retailer now offers either a Visa or MasterCard. I even received an offer from PetSmart, recently. PetSmart! I declined their generous offer. Sorry kitties, I’m not paying a 23 percent annual interest rate so you can stockpile a cabinet full of Pounce and Whiskas.
The most insulting credit card offers I’ve received are usually by the bottom feeders, which are banks that prey upon the financially insolvent. These are nothing more than seedy loan sharks masquerading as a major financial institutions. A typical offer includes a low credit line (sometimes as low as $500), a ridiculous interest rate (typically 29 percent), a preposterous number of penalties if you dare miss a payment or exceed the credit line, and a whopping annual fee. These dope dealers essentially prey upon the vulnerability of millions of desperate people — including millions of unemployed or under-employed Americans — taking advantage of those who are least able to afford bondage to the banking industry.
When I get these offers in the mail, I have a ritual. Here’s what I do.
Why’s it so goddamned difficult to get a decent margarita? I mean, what the fuck!
The recipe is simple. Simple! The act of mixing the cocktail isn’t difficult. But for some reason, which I fail to contemplate, most bars and restaurants — even highly-rated Mexican restaurants — serve shitty-ass margaritas made with no love nor care. It’s time to start sending these abominations back. A major education campaign must be launched, and I’m here to do it.
I’ve had it. I’m livid!
Where’s the pride? How can an owner, a manager, or a server put out such lackluster product, when a margarita should be the centerpiece attraction? How does a restaurant keep its doors open using cheap tequila and rock-gut triple sec poured out of pathetic plastic bottles combined with disgusting powder-based mixers and have the audacity to call that a “margarita?” It’s like putting lipstick on a pig and calling that Anne Hathaway.
Case in point: Whoever created the margarita pictured in the photo below should never be able to set foot behind a bar again. Ever! The criminal should be digging a ditch or serving on a chain gag. Bitch slap his ass! I mean, look at this travesty! And study carefully. Drop what you are doing and pay attention!
We’re having a field day with this. It’s a Liberal’s laugh-a-thon. A three-ring binder circus.
Mitt Romney’s “Women in binders” comment is quite possibly the most memorable tagline of the 2012 Presidential Election. It’s right up there with golden gems of the past. Recall — “Extremism in defense of liberty is no vice….” “You’re no Jack Kennedy,” and “Are you better off now than you were four years ago?”
Apparently, Mitt Romney’s management style pretty much comes down to two things — balance sheets and binders. If it’s profitable, go for it. If it’s unprofitable, eliminate it. But there’s a lot more to what I will term “Bindergate.”
In a scene right out of Mad Max, some places are now charging $5.90 a gallon for unleaded. The premium fuel has actually hit six bucks.
SIX DOLLARS! A GALLON!
Where is this? Some remote whaling village in Norway? No, it’s right here in the USA.
Here’s a snapshot of the sign out in front of the Chevron station in Shoshone, California — which is located close to Death Valley. Admittedly, this is a tough place to reach. So, gas is going to cost a little more in out-of-the-way places where it simply costs more money to transport fuel from the producer to the consumer.
But a 50 percent markup from the national average of just under $4 a gallon? (Note: This sign and price was not unusual — other stations in the area had similar prices per gallon).
Might this be a conspiracy?
Let’s agree that it costs significantly more to truck gasoline to remote parts of the country, such as Death Valley. I’m not sure precisely how much more it takes to drive a tanker from a fuel hub such as Los Angeles, which is 200 miles west. But let’s concede that it costs more.
I wonder — does it cost any more to transport fuel out to the desert than, let’s say, to a small town in the hills of Tennessee, where the same gallon of unleaded gas now costs $3,89 a gallon?
Someone please explain this to me. $5.90 a gallon in Shoshone….$3.89 a gallon in Gatlinburg.
Roughly the same geography from refineries and tankers, and the same reliance on overland transport. Shouldn’t the high dessert in California and the Smokey Mountains in Tennessee have roughly the same gas prices?
Again, please educate me.
Moreover, Id like to know that if indeed it’s more difficult to move goods to the consumer to a place like Shoshone, then why aren’t the other products also marked up significantly? A coke that costs $1 in Los Angeles is not priced at $1.50 in Shoshone. In fact, it’s the same $1. A candy bar that costs 60 cents elsewhere is also 60 cents here. Same with just about everything — except gasoline.
When people in one part of the country are forced to pay a 50 percent markup on a product that is widely available in similar regions at a substantially lower cost, something is very wrong.
I have a solution: I hope the day comes when this nation nationalizes the oil industry. Seize them all. Acquire all their assets. Take them over in the public interest and damn all the greedy shareholders who are caught holding an empty bag.
But all this pales in comparison to my final inquiry. Alas, I’ve saved the biggest question for last. Take a close look at that sign again. Look carefully.
I wonder — can’t the idiot who runs the Chevron gas station afford some legitimate signage, rather than using black electrician’s tape? I mean, the criminal oil company and the service station are raping consumers to the tune of $6 a gallon. And the sign looks like a fucking lemonade stand?