They Lie #2 "Interest Free for 6 Years"

I'm no Warren Buffet. (See the photo. That's Warren Buffett. From his own Wikipedia page.) I have a tax guy and a retirement guy because I don't know enough about taxes and retirement portfolios to do them myself. (Or do I? Hmmm...) But at my age (Don't ask; I'm not telling), I do know a thing or two about saving money and not overspending, which is the same thing. And I know enough to know that people, businesses and organizations will lie to make themselves a buck. As House used to say, "Everybody lies." And as I say...Well, see the previous blog about lies by clicking here.

So here's how a local (and national, I think) furniture store lied in a mailing recently:

It sent me a red, white and blue (July 4th week, right? Plus I'll bet it works subliminally) offer that said I could get any mattress or piece of furniture I wanted, and I wouldn't have to pay any interest for over 6 years. That 6 year thing was shown twice, in giant multi-colored print, twice on the same one page of this thing.

So there's a lot wrong here.

First, I noticed right away that there was not one single photo of a mattress of piece of furniture. (See the photo below? Furniture, right? Not one single photo of something like that in this ad. The photo is from jordans.com/living-room, by the way.) So what's being sold here? Furniture and mattresses? Nope. The furniture store is selling its payment options. And the option here is to get whatever you want, interest-free, for 6 years. So that struck me as odd, that a furniture store was focusing on its payment and interest options. Why would it do that? Well, I'll bet that they make more money on the interest payments than they do on their own furniture. That's why car companies sell cars the same way in TV ads. You see the car on the road, but the guys babble about the interest payments, or the no-interest, or the leasing options. They make more money off the money than they do off the car. Same here with furniture. Good for them, bad for you. Why? Because if someone's making money off your money, you're paying too much money. If you weren't, there wouldn't be any surplus money for them to make money off of. You'd pay just the price for the furniture, for example, so the store, the supplier and the employees get paid, but that's it. They have to move on. If someone's making money off your money, which is what interest is, then you're paying too much money. You don't want to do that.

Secondly, and maybe more important, YOU NEVER WANT TO PAY INTEREST ON ANYTHING, EVER, FOR ANY REASON. That's so important that I put it in impolite and angry caps. But the word "interest" is a swear word, right up there with mother----er and the C-word. In fact, it's even worse, because like an STD, once you've got it, you're never going to be able to make it go away. Right? Do you owe interest payments on a credit card? How about your student loans? Look at your mortgage. How much are you paying in interest? Interest in mortgages are unavoidable if you want a house (I've got 2 mortgages, so I know), but in everything else it is very easily avoidable. (If I can't afford to pay the monthly credit card bill, I don't buy it. And come hell or high water, I WILL pay off that credit card bill in full, and I will not make monthly payments on it, ever, for any reason. I don't have a cent of credit card debt, and I had no life for a few years after I got my degree so that I could pay off my student loans all at once, so I don't own a cent of student loans, either. But I truthfully was lifeless for a few years as I saved to pay off that bad boy.) If it's not an emergency--and I'm talking someone is dying here, or your house is about to cave in--and if you don't have the money, you don't buy it. Period. This furniture ad in the mail was banking on the fact (See what I did there?) that people are so used to interest payments, that the real kicker of the ad was the interest-free option and not the furniture. That's crazy. Because, once again, if you're paying interest, you're paying too much for something. There's no second course. If you're trying to lose weight, there's no dessert after dinner. And if you're trying to stay out of debt, there's no interest after the one initial payment.

You might think that you've got 6 years to pay that thing off, so you won't have to pay any interest at all. Fine--if that's true. But is it? What do you have to do to get the 6 years of no interest? What do you have to sign for? I'll bet you'll have to get that furniture company's credit card, and you'll have to get an account with them, or with whomever runs their financial backing. So someone's already making money off of you, and they're betting that you won't pay it off in 6 years. I repeat, someone's making money off of you, and someone's betting against you. That's inherently negative and should scare you away.

Well, let's read the fine print. After every "6 Years" there's an *. An asterisk means there's a catch, a stipulation, and it means someone's trying to screw you. If they weren't, the information would be in as giant, multi-colored print as the "6 Years." There's another * after "No minimum purchase" and a tiny crucifix (Why hasn't someone harped on that blasphemy, using a tiny crucifix symbol to screw people out of their own money?) after "No money down." They're also betting you won't read the fine print. No one ever reads the fine print. You should always read the fine print. So let's read the fine print. And I'm looking for the answer to the question: How much would the interest be?

Whoa! If you don't pay the amount in time, you'll be hit with 29.99% interest! Holy crap! That means you'll owe in interest $30 for every $100 you haven't paid. That's crazy! That's $300 for every $1000. That's insane. Is that worth the risk? Hell no! If you don't have any credit card debt, your own credit card has a lower APR than that. And, furthermore, you're already thinking badly because if you can't afford to pay it on your very next month's credit card bill, you shouldn't buy it at all. You can't afford to think that you have 6 years to pay that off. I can't. I can only afford to think that I've got 1 MONTH to pay it off, and if I can't do that, I don't buy it. Period. And, yes, my furniture's older, but it's comfortable enough. And, yes, I do deserve better--but that doesn't mean that I'm going to get it, or that I'm entitled to it. I have to earn it, and if I don't have the money for it in 30 days, I haven't earned it. Don't start down that interest-free road, because you don't know where that road ends. And "interest-free" doesn't mean "free." And if you're playing games with interest, you'll lose.

Photo: An asterisk in an early Greek papyrus. It's possible people were getting screwed with it then, about 2,000 years ago. From the Wikipedia page for the word "asterisk."

And it says here: "For $X a month you could redecorate every room in your entire home." No. No you can't. It takes a few grand to do that, and if you're like me, you won't be able to pay back a few grand in 6 years. If you can, then wait those 6 years and save and pay cash for everything so nobody makes a dime off your money and you're not in debt. Redecorating my home with brand new furniture would cost over $10,000. There's no way in hell I'd be able to pay that off in 10 years, never mind 6. And that'll be $3,000 extra in interest. So instead of $10,000, I'd owe $13,000.

And it doesn't say here that you can pay more than your equal monthly payment. Because you want to pay that off before the 6 years, right? To do that, you have to pay more than the equal monthly payment, every single month. If you're not allowed to do that--if you have to pay just the equal monthly payment so that you're stuck with this contract for exactly 6 years, then you're screwed. Because crap happens, and you're going to fall behind on a payment, maybe even the very last one, 6 years later, and your now in debt, or at the very least your credit takes a big hit.

No thanks. I'm throwing it away. Actually, I'm throwing it in the firepit, so I don't have to buy kindling. I'll save money off of the money this furniture company paid to mail this to me. So help me, I'll make money off of them.

And so that's how they lie. Misdirection, in this case. This furniture company is selling money with this ad, not furniture. Always ask yourself, "What would they gain doing that?" If someone were to call them up and ask them if they made more money off its payment plans or its furniture, I'll bet they'll say the payment plans. And that's how they lie. Not as bad as the flat-out lies meant to actually fool me like the last blog. This isn't for a power trip or for political gain. And everyone's got to make a buck, so this doesn't make me angry like the last one, but still...Ain't nothing for free in this world, right? Not even 6 years of interest-free payments. If it sounds too good to be true, it is. Especially if there's money involved. (Some things, and some people, are actually as good as they sound. But not if there's money involved.)

Next time on "They Lie": A mortgage company insisting they're holding a really low interest payment percentage for me that's actually higher than the one I already have.

Merry Christmas

Photo: From a Xmas card given to me this year by a co-worker. (Sorta looks like another co-worker.)

Just a quick post to say Merry Christmas. Thanks to all my readers--We broke 100,000 pageviews today! I'm honored that so many wanted to click on something I wrote, even if it was my better half 100,000 times. (Just kidding. I started the blog long before I knew her.)

Thanks also to those who read yesterday's blog (Skip to the last sentence if you read about this yesterday) about helping a man who was hit, with his two dogs, by a speeding car. One dog just came back yesterday, after being missing a week! The other one is alive, but in need of an operation to either fix his leg or to amputate it. The operation will cost $7,500, and there's a GoFundMe page set up here:

https://www.gofundme.com/help-us-take-care-of-angus

I know it's a financially strapped time of year, but please do what you can for Angus, a really cute-looking dog. Here he is:

The one who returned yesterday is going to need a little TLC as well, so anything you can do for these local dogs would be appreciated. (Some have given $5, which is still great.) Out of the $7,500 needed, $2,490 has been raised. Every penny or dollar helps.

And that's it! Have a great and safe holiday! May Santa be good to you, every single year.

Missing Local Dog Goes Home on Christmas Eve. GoFundMe Link Below.

A heartwarming holiday story:

A week ago, a local guy is out walking his dogs when a kid, driving with a suspended license and without insurance, and who is speeding down the road, loses control of his car and hits the guy and his two dogs. The guy is injured, but one of his dogs is hurt badly in one leg. It needs surgery to either repair the leg, or amputate it. Cost: $7,500.  Please go to the doggie's GoFundMe page here.

Here's a pic of that poor guy, named Angus:

The other dog panics and runs off, and a week later is still missing. (Read the original news story here.) But the dog was returned to the guy today, on Christmas Eve. Cynic that I am, I told someone it wasn't a coincidence that the dog was returned once a reward was offered. Turns out, it was. A little girl living close by saw the dog on her porch, all wet, but alive. Soon the dog was reunited with its owner, limping slightly, but happy. (Read that news story here.) Here's a pic of Kacy:

Both doggie pics are from their GoFundMe page. If you'd like to donate (every penny or dollar helps), please go to this address, which is linked above and here: https://www.gofundme.com/help-us-take-care-of-angus 

And so what better way to say Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and, ummm...Blissful Days Regardless of Your Religion? Have a good one, folks, and, as always, thanks for reading.

[Please post the GoFundMe address to your Facebook, Twitter, Blog, etc. and pass the story along so others can help. As of this writing, $1,795 has been raised. I know it's a financially challenging time of year, but please do what you can, even if it's just spreading the word along. Thanks!] 

And, oh yeah, as a tip of the hat to the boss around here, a pic of my better half's peanut butter pie, with whip cream, Reese's chunks, and Oreo crust, that she made for Xmas Eve. Though I'm allergic to peanuts, I had a bite, because you cannot live your life in fear. Plus, look at it. How can't you have one?

Finders Keepers by Stephen King

Photo: from the book's Goodreads page.  (Yes, I review there as well.  Feel free them up.)

After finishing this book, which was essentially a good book and an okay way to pass the reading time of three days (in my case, anyway), I am nonetheless compelled to write the following:

Things That Have Annoyed Me in Stephen King's Latest Novels:

--His tendency to focus almost exclusively, at least for the first half, on the character normally considered to be the antagonist.  In this case, Morris Bellamy, who kills John Rothstein (a thinly-disguised combination of J.D. Salinger and John Updike) and steals his money and notebooks.  This is not ruining anything, by the way, because the inside flap tells you this faster than I just did.

Anyway, there are problems with doing this.  As I've mentioned in other recent reviews of King's work, the tendency to do this insinuates to the reader (again, at least this one) that King finds his antagonists more interesting than his protagonists.  (Or, at least, that he feels his readers will.)  This reminds me of actors who say they prefer playing the bad guy because he's usually more interesting than the bland good guy.  If this is the case, the answer here is to simply make the protagonist more convincing, or less bland, or whatever.  Often, an interesting protagonist will come to mirror the antagonist, thereby creating some depth.  (Hopefully this is what happens in my with-beta-readers-WIP).  King has done this focus-on-the-character-who's-normally-the-antagonist thing so frequently lately that it has to be by design.

The other problem with this is that it creates a cartoonish novel.  This novel will be compulsively-readable--which this one certainly is, as I finished it in a few days--but that doesn't mean it's satisfying.  I mentioned in a recent King review that his books have satisfied me less and less even though I'm reading them as quickly--if not more quickly--than ever.  I don't mean this as a snotty criticism, but I do mean it with seriousness.  By starting off with the antagonist, and by staying with him for so long, it creates the mirage (or, not, if you're strict about this sort of semantic thing) that the antagonist is actually the protagonist, and the protagonist, who's out to stop the bad-guy protagonist from doing bad things, is actually the antagonist, by definition.  This is how the old Tom & Jerry cartoons worked.

And it sucks, because it feels fake.  Because, really, it's backstory made into story, and you compulsively read it because it's there and that's all there is, but...it's not satisfying.  There's something wrong.  I'm not critical because it's not literature (somebody hit me upside the head if I ever get that snotty); I'm critical because it's not story.  Though story is what happens, and maybe why it happens, there's something more that story's supposed to be.  Something more real.  More weighty, perhaps, but that's entering Elitist Land, maybe.  But really it's just like watching a Tom & Jerry cartoon, which I tired of in my teens.  And I've tired of it here.

I'm sure King has done this purposely lately because it also falsely creates momentary cliffhangers at the end of every section.  And that's not done with realness, either.  It works like this: Protagonist, who's doing bad things that you want to read because we all want to see the dead body under the sheet at the car accident (King's frequently-used comparison, not mine), does bad things but comes upon some roadblock that stops him and allows the writer to introduce the protagonist--who's actually the antagonist here, by definition, because he's trying to stop the main character.  (Morris Bellamy, book advertising aside, is the main character here.  The cop from Mr. Mercedes, who's advertised as the main character and the star of this trilogy, does not appear in this one until literally half-way through.  And he's got remarkably little to do.  He really could be any retired cop from anywhere, from any novel from any writer.)  In this case, that roadblock is jail time.  Bellamy gets out and the game's afoot.  He does something.  Bill Hodges, the retired cop, does something, and catches up a little with the program.  In the meantime, other characters become more important and do more important things than Hodges does, and do so right until the end.  In this case, Pete Saubers is the other main character here.  Hodges is maybe third or fourth in line.  Anyway, the sections get shorter (yet another fake way to create tension: James Patterson-like short chapters or sections--and lots of them) and the back-and-forth gets more frequent and creates tension even when the story itself doesn't.

Fakery, I tell you.

If you've read King's books before, especially the recent ones, there's never any doubt about what's going to happen.  If you've read Misery, there's never any doubt about how it's going to happen.  And the little ironic twist in the last 5% of the book, that part about where the notebooks were after all--well, it made me roll my eyes.  Let me know if it did the same for you.

Bleh.  Compulsively readable bleh, but bleh nonetheless.

You expect something more.  And maybe that's part of the problem.  Maybe we shouldn't be expecting more from him anymore.  Can I say that out loud?

The other thing that needs to be said out loud: His stuff isn't scary anymore.  It's not even chilly.  (The ending of Revival is a blessed exception here.)  The only part of the novel that does that is the very, very end--an ending with a character that was in this book for .01% of it--and never in a relevant to this story kind of way.  That part--smack!--is the only even closely resembling creepy part of this whole thing.

That's what we want from King, right?  If I'm not going to get the real-life creeps and genius of "Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption," "The Body" or even Misery, than I want the creepiness of The Shining and IT.  The stuff he's giving us lately is nothing more than bad Dean Koontz.  This was especially true of Mr. Sleep, which was so bad I literally got angry.  (And was reminded of Dorothy Parker's quip, about another bad book, that it wasn't something to be put aside--but should instead be thrown with great force.)  But I don't want the back-and-forth of guns and robbers and that stuff.  I want little boys crawling underneath the snow, being chased by an unseen something that sticks its hand out of the snow, very suddenly.  I want he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts.  This is TV show crap we're getting now, since Under the Dome did so well (in the ratings, during the summer, anyway), and I don't want it.  (Under the Dome is a classic example of King focusing almost-exclusively on the character who normally would be the antagonist, but isn't because of King's POV focus on him.  And the "protagonist" of Under the Dome was surely a bore--Steven Seagall in Under Seige.  A special-op hiding out, in retirement or not, as a cook.)

Anyway, this wasn't scary.  It wasn't intense.  It wasn't creepy.  It wasn't memorable.  It was compulsively readable--but I could say the same about my journal entries and even my shopping list.

And I'm still optimistic enough to want more out of Stephen King than this.  But maybe I shouldn't be.

Revival by Stephen King

Photo: The book's cover art, from its Wikipedia page

Another compulsively-readable book by Stephen King, Revival is one of his recent best.  A mish-mash of Frankenstein (thematically) and Lovecraft (in plot, Otherness, and The Angry Ones, as well as some fairly fearsome Gods) and Hieronymus Bosch, it reads like a first-person confessional (which is a well King has tapped for some time now) and it ends with one of the more horrifying things that King--or anyone I've read--has ever written.
 
Especially if it's true, if that's really what's waiting for us Afterwards.  If you've ever seen Bosch's Seven Deadly Sins or his Garden of Earthly Delights, you'll know what I mean.  Nasty, disturbing and memorable stuff.  This book's ending--and the potential ending for us all, good or bad--are just that: nasty, disturbing and memorable.  Frightening, because the "good" or "bad" doesn't matter.  The ending depicted here isn't the ending of the bad.  It's the ending of all of us.

In recent interviews, King has said that the views expressed by the narrator are not necessarily his--a fact that any reader is well aware, in anyone's writing.  But he has also said recently that he thinks about Death and God a lot (which King fans have always known), and that he does believe in God.  Sometimes he says that there has to be a God, because otherwise he would not have survived his accident or his addictions.  (This begs the question: Since others have not survived being hit by a car, or concurrent alcohol and coke addictions, does that mean there isn't a God?  Or does God simply not want them to live?)  Lately, King's been using Pascal's Wager to express his views.
 
(Pascal's Wager has always seemed like a cop-out to me, but it's really not meant to be.  And as I get older, and I contemplate that slab of stone more and more, Pascal's Wager sounds infinitely more rational.  Though I don't know how one can live a life as if one believes in God, which is what the Wager advises, if one truly does not believe.  But I suppose an agnostic like myself could pull it off.)

This is actually not much of a digression, as a belief in Something is very much at the core of this novel.  Picture an agnostic who grew up with devout, religious parents, and throw in some family tragedies, a wasted life of coke and booze, and some Lovecraftian Cosmic Horror, with Bosch's view of a potential eternity in Hell and a Frankenstein theme, and some hellish chaos on Earth at the very un-Stephen King-like end (after all the Frankenstein / Lovecraft / Bosch stuff), and you've just about got the narrator and his story.

There are some other horrors until then as well, neatly tucked into this novel.  There's a car accident you won't soon forget, and a dream about dead family members that those of us with dead family members will all relate to--and not happily.  And his ending after the ending (a writing style I've pointed out in my last ten or so reviews of King's work) is even more unforgettable.  It's debatable, in fact, if the first or second ending is more horrible.  Since I don't believe in the existence of the first, and since I very much believe in the existence of the evil--or of, worse, the tragic inexplicable--portrayed in the second, I'm going with the latter.  You watch the news, you see this.

The writing is as compulsively-readable as always, but--finally!!!--here are some horrors, terrors and chills, too.  If forced to rate out of five stars, I'd say this is a four--only if compared to his truly great stuff, like IT and The Shining.  But compared to his most recent stuff--some of it quite terrible, and sometimes, at best, rather pedestrian--Revival would get five.  Though the title refers to the revival of the narrator and a few of its almost-dead characters, it could well refer to King's horror writing as well.

Read it, regardless.  And then Wikipedia Pascal's Wager, if you have to, and tell me whether it makes more pragmatic, rational sense than it may have in your youth.

You Know You're A Homeowner When...

Photo: A window in my house.  Notice the wooden shims holding up the second pane of glass so there's no open space between the plastic molding of the storm window and the top of the windowframe.

You know you're a homeowner (of an older house) when...


--you think wooden shims are the bomb.


--and you have hundreds of them throughout the house, in use (like in the pic above) and in storage.


--you've just spent $45 on steel wool, window insulation and caulking.


--you spent an hour walking through the house, studying the perimeters of your windows and doors to see where you need to use that stuff.


--and you've spent an hour or so stuffing steel wool into the gaps between the just-now-rotting wood of your shed and the cement of the shed floor. 


--and you've recently spent an hour or so stuffing steel wool into the gaps between your garage doors and the cement floor of your garage.


--and you've done that more to keep out the damn mice than to keep in the winter heat.


--you start saving money in the beginning of the fall to pay for the winter heating bills.


--you actually pay attention when someone prophecies how warm or cold the upcoming winter will be.


--you feel damn proud of yourself for cleaning out just enough garage space to get your car in there.


--you're happy to hear that two dead mice were found in your shed because last winter they ate your backyard work gloves to shreds and pooped all over the second and third shelves.


--you sing the praises of house spiders because they kill smaller bugs--but they also let you know where the unseen drafts are in your house.  (They'll build their webs there, and you'll see the webs shimmer slightly in the draft.)


--you have a handyman on speed-dial.


--and your landscaper, too.


--and the guy in charge of the water heater and pipes, too.


--and the guy in charge of the heating oil, too.


--you make sure you can pay the mortgage before you think about the next food shopping bill.  (Because you know the old ladies across the street will give you enough bagels, crackers and cheese to hold you over.)


--you realize you're a wood hoarder.  (I have more wood than you'll find in many small forests.)


--you can write a long-ish blog entry about the idiosyncratic things you do when you own a house.

With All Due Respect--My JOYLAND Book Review, Out Now

Photo: Magazine cover of All Due Respect, where you'll find my review of Stephen King's Joyland.

The good people at With All Due Respect Magazine have published my review of Stephen King's Joyland.  It's available right now at this link, and soon in print as well.

126 pages of original hard-boiled crime noir, it's only $2.99 on Kindle.

From its Amazon page:

All Due Respect is back with thriller author Owen Laukkanen, whose latest book, Kill Fee, is due out in March. We've got some seriously dark stories from CS DeWildt, David Siddall, Joseph Rubas, Eric Beetner, Liam Sweeny, and Scott Adlerberg. And we continue our quest to review every Hard Case Crime book. If you like your fiction hardboiled/noir, this is your magazine.

Praise for All Due Respect:

"All Due Respect... is full of bars and beatings, guns and grifters, not necessarily the kind of crime to cozy up with by the fire, unless it's one of those burning cars on the side of the road." -- David James Keaton, author of Fish Bites Cop

"This is perhaps the best collection of noir and crime short stories I’ve come across." -- Big Al's Books and Pals.

So there you are.  This is good stuff.  For just $2.99, please give it a shot.  Leave a comment, let me know what you thought.   

Two Dreams

Photo: Freud's Vienna office, from forpilar.blogspot.com.

Despite being woken up more than six times by my car's alarm that inexplicably went off three times, and by my dog, who whined constantly through the night, I somehow managed to sleep deeply enough to have two very strange dreams.

Dream #1

I'm rooming with another guy, who seemed likeable and reasonable enough, but in the dream I become more and more concerned that he is not a good guy at all.  I ask questions and he doesn't answer them.  He gets that lean and hungry look, as Shakespeare's Caesar called it.  Somehow it becomes clear that he's a murderer, and I come upon a giant folder of files and documents, one of which seems to prove the issue when I pick it up and read it.  When I lower it from my eyes, there he is, looking dangerous, obviously about to do something nasty.  But before I have the chance to do something about it, either my car alarm goes off in the garage, or my dog whines and wakes me up.

The most surprising thing at all: the dream makes it very clear who this person is: It's Red Sox back-up thirdbaseman Will Middlebrooks.  Who, despite striking out way too often, I'm sure is a nice enough guy in real life.  That was just weird, man.

Dream #2

It's in the future, not too distant.  I work under a bridge that crosses a wide, beautiful river.  Things are so bleak in this existence that countless people jump off of this bridge in an attempt to kill themselves.  My job is to rescue them from the river, and resuscitate them.  I get a bird's-eye view of this bridge (of which I did remember the name, but some time in the last fifteen minutes, I've forgotten it; I hope to remember it by the time I finish typing this, and I can tell you it's a simple name, like the Point Bridge, or something.  It's not something famous, like the Golden Gate Bridge, or even something real).  It's a long suspension bridge; it's fall, because the leaves are turning color.  The river water is very smooth and clear.  There are no boats. Everything's serene and peaceful and beautiful.

Except it's not, because people are jumping.  I save quite a few people over a short period of time on this day.  Maybe a dozen, or more.  I don't have a boat to get them.  (Maybe there's a gasoline or engine shortage in this future.)  But the last person to jump, a tall, full brunette, is different.  I can't find her in the water at all.  This has never happened before.  Never has someone gotten away, or died.  But just when I'm about to give up, I see her, and soon she's on the riverbank and I'm trying to force the water out of her lungs.  This happens for a very long time, much longer than is useful.

I look at her.  I don't know her.  She's got a solid enough neck, a pretty face, and soaking wet black hair that trails on the damp ground.  Her eyes remain closed (though I know in real life, a dead person's eyes stay open) and, when I stop blowing in her mouth, trying to revive her, that, too, closes.

She's completely still.  She's dead.  I've lost her.  For the first time, I've lost one.

And then the dog's whine wakes me up.

And that's it.  Two strange dreams.  I never did remember the name of the bridge, but I'll go with the Point Bridge for now, until I remember.

Freudian analysis, anyone?

P.S.--A very hearty thank ye to Ashley Cosgrove, who was kind enough to put a link to a recent Shakespeare entry (the one about how he did not play a part in the 1608-9 publication of his sonnets) on her Facebook page--and without me asking (or even being aware of it, at first); and to Gibson DelGuidice, who was nice enough to recently say very complimentary things about my blog (and to place a link to it) on his blog.  And I didn't even know about it, either, until recently.  You guys rule.   

Ebay and Letting Go

Photo--Former ebay logo in an office hallway.  From digitaltrends.com

I've discovered ebay lately, much to my happiness and my chagrin.  Happiness because I now own about 25 1908-1910 T206s, as well as a few 1935 Diamond Stars and a couple of more Goudeys.  (These are all popular, yet usually-expensive, baseball cards.)  I also now own 1 1887 N172 tobacco card in very good condition, and a great Pedro Martinez-autographed, bigger than 18 X 20 photo, in a walnut frame, with "2004 W.S. Champs" after his autograph.  It is one of the most beautiful things I've ever owned.

So why the chagrin?  Well, let me put it this way: I've shut down the account for now, and there are Post-It reminders on my laptop (which I usually type these on) to not bid on anything else for the foreseeable future.  I have become very good at winning bids.  I have a great system.  This is also a good and a bad thing.  The only specific I'll give is that the 1887 card cost $104 and change, and that's a steal for the card.

This was all well and good but for the hit-and-run driver who smashed into the back of my car as I was stopped in front of a side street that led to the parking lot of my job.  I got hit hard, and was dazed for a bit, and got some neck soreness and a fat lip--and just over $4,300 in damages.  The insurance covers most of that, thank God, but a $1,000 deductible still is what it is.  Considering what I spent on ebay, that was the absolute wrong thing at the wrong time.  (Though I admit that I could have been hurt much more than I was.)

So now the second part of the title of this blog entry: Letting Go.  I have to let go of the hopelessness that you feel that someone could smash into your car and drive away, and the woman who was a witness to it--who was, in fact, hogging the whole side street so that I had no choice but to stop to let her out--did not stay for the cop, or at least offer her name and number, or call 911, or anything.  She saw the car that hit me.  She must have seen it drive away, unless she was too busy driving away herself.  So I have to let go of the anger and bitterness of that whole situation.

But I also had to let go of a couple of things I've had for awhile.  I had to sell a couple of things because I needed the cash on hand.  I have some savings, but I have to leave it there in case something else like this happens.  I went through some of my many baseball things--which I don't usually do--and I had to sell a couple of my baseball things--which I never do.  After reviewing what I had, I set aside a second Dustin Pedroia autograph (this one on a baseball; I have a better one on a large autographed World Series photo of him) and about 50 to 75 baseball cards.

Letting go of the Pedroia ball hurt a little bit, but that's why you get duplicate autographs, right?  This one I got at a Picnic in the Park at Fenway a few years ago; the woman I was dating at the time paid for the expensive tickets and took me, and I had the time of my life--as well as many Sox autographs.  (One of my favorite memories was throwing a baseball against the Green Monster for a few hours on a perfect afternoon.  My spot was just to the left of the Jimmy Fund boy in the circle.)  Anyway, the ball (which had George Kottaras's autograph, too, and you can go to the front of the line if you remember him) reminded me of that day, and so I was sort of sorry to see it go.  I have other autographed baseballs from that day, but still.  I sold it for $50.  I would have asked for more, because it sells consistently on ebay for $85-$120.  I asked for $60 and settled for ten dollars less because I sold it to a co-worker, and he's a very nice guy.

Then I called a guy who had come to one of my yard sales this past summer.  We'd talked a bit and he'd mentioned that he liked older baseball cards, of which I have a plentiful supply.  It took me awhile to decide what to part with, and the way the sale went down, I had to part with a card I'd rather not have had to sell, a 1975 Topps George Brett Rookie Card.  This had been given to me when I was about 14, so I've had it for a very long time.  The book value on it was $40 to $80 in Near Mint condition, which my card maybe was, or maybe was just short.  I also sold 99 commons with it, and a 1975 Topps Steve Carlton, Phil Neikro, Hank Aaron, Dave Winfield (book value--$30 to $50), and Robin Yount rookie card (in faded condition).  I got $100 for all of that, which is a pretty fair deal for both the buyer and the seller.  You never get book value for cards.  It's impressive that I even came close.

Anyway, letting go of that Brett card hurt more because I've had it for so very long.  When I looked at it, I remembered the me that I was at that age.  It was also one of the more valuable cards I've had in my collection since I started collecting at age 12 or so.  But I needed the money, and it was all profit, since I didn't pay for any of the 1975 cards.  And I was never particularly fond of the 1975 cards anyway.  They're really hard to get in decent condition because of the color patterns Topps made them with.  And I'm more into pre-1970 cards, anyway.  The 70s, with maybe the exception of the 78s or 79s, were an ugly time for Topps.

Ebay makes letting go a little easier.  If it gets too much for me, I can just buy another one, maybe in better condition, maybe for even less than I just sold it for.  Years ago, it would have been impossible to replace a 1975 Topps George Brett rookie card if you'd sold it.  Now, it's just a mouse click away.

And I feel that letting go, and adapting, is necessary for growth.  And I've never been particularly good at doing that.  Not that keeping that Brett card forever would have been a bad thing if I'd liked it, or if I'd wanted to wait for it to increase in value.  But it probably wouldn't have gone up that much more anytime soon (although all vintage cards increase in value over time, just because they're old), and I never really liked the card in of itself.  I much prefer '51-'53 Bowmans and '52 and '53 Topps, as well as the '44 and '45 cards, and the 1887 N172s and, of course, the T206s.

I'm moving on, and I needed the money, and I like other cards now (and they're more expensive because they're so much older).  I've changed, and not just in my baseball card preferences.  I would not have been able to sell the Brett card 10 years ago, and maybe not even in the last few years.  But that's what you do with free stuff you're not attached to by anything more than nostalgia, right?

It's possibly a short story in of itself: a card given to me for free when I was 14 was sold (with other cards, but the Brett rookie was the creme de la creme of my 75s, and of the 1975 set in general) for about $75 to $80, with all of the other cards selling for about $20 to $25.  It's going to a new home now, and I know that this is inappropriate personification, but I asked the guy to treat it well, and to display it well.  He said he would, though I have my doubts, as he said he has a billion other cards, including many T206s, just hanging out in bureau drawers or something.  (I asked him to call me about the T206s.)  It's fulfilled its purpose for me, as it turns out, and so I hope it's good to someone else, too.

And if it sounds like I have some separation anxiety about it, it's because I do.  But you have to let go, right?  You have to adapt and change.  That's what the hoarders can't do--and I see now that it's possible to be an emotion hoarder, too.

P.S.--If you're interested in buying any baseball cards, send me an email (the address is at the top of this blog page, with all of my other associations) or place a comment, and I'll get back.  Let me know what you need, and if I've got it, we can talk.  The T206s and the 1887 card are not for sale.

Spiderman

Photo: Wikipedia page for "Spiderman."  From The Amazing Spider-Man #547 (March 2008); Art by Steve McNiven and Dexter Vines


A very cool entry about a missing house spider on Michael Seidel's blog amused me to no end, as I thought I was the only one with an odd connection to a pet-like house spider that was smart enough to stay out of my way.

I realized, however, that I have some very specific spider rules:

1.  Don't fall on my face. This happened at 2 a.m. many years ago, right after an inner voice said, "Look up."  I was reading a book at the time, on a typical insomniac night, when I heard that voice, and looked up.  The spider, possibly more afraid than I was, scuttled beneath the sheets.  Yuck.

2.  Don't be hangin' in front of me so that I walk into you.  This happens more often than I would've thought possible.  Recently I guided a co-worker out of the way before one landed in her hair.

3.  Don't go into my slippers.  That wasn't fun, feeling a hairy, squirrely somethin' scurry between my toes and the top of my slipper.

4.  Don't make your way into my bathroom water cup so that I feel your hairy, spindly legs when I take my allergy pill, and spit you out, and already hate the day at 6 a.m.

5.  Don't create a spider nest in my car's vents and have so many babies that about eight of them crawled quickly out of those vents and onto my hands, which were on the wheel as I was driving.  This caused my car to swerve as I was grossed out.  I pulled into a Cumberland Farms, ran in, grabbed a box of Kleenex, smashed the spiders that were still on the wheel, and to this day the guy behind the counter calls me "Spiderman."