Always Read The Fine Print

I received a credit card offer from Chase the other day: no annual fee, and 7.99% fixed^a APR. Not a bad deal, I thought, but then I noticed the tiny superscript "a". Hmmm....

If we were to look up the word on Dictionary.com, the relevant definition of the word "fixed" would be "not fluctuating or varying; definite."

However, when I follow the superscript "a", Chase redefines the word on its own terms:

a You understand that the terms of your account, including the APRs, are subject to change. This means that the APRs for this offer are not guaranteed; APRs may change to higher APRs, fixed APRs may change to variable APRs, or variable APRs may change to fixed APRs. We reserve the right to change the terms (including the APRs) at any time for any reason, in addition to APR increases that may occur for failure to comply with the terms of your account.

In other words, "fixed" is reduced to meaning.... well, ..... nothing.

Shake It Up....

As I've grown older, I find I'm increasingly living in the past when it comes to musical appreciation.

One reason is that the radio is no longer "the soundtrack of my life". These days I tend to listen to NPR rather than a music station.

Secondly.... Well, there's not getting around it: I'm turning into my parents. A lot of the music being turned out these days is just so much noise to me. You can keep your hip-hop and alternative, thank you. You can certainly keep your vulgar lyrics.

Nevertheless, I'm occasionally pleased to discover some fine new music.

The song-- "Fidelity". The artist-- Regina Spektor. The genre-- Anti-Folk.

The song can currently be heard in its entirety on the Regina Spektor website, if you're interested. And, as always, the album, Begin to Hope is available on Amazon, if you want to make me a buck or two while purchasing this fine music.

If you are interested in learning more about the artist, check out this segment from NPR's Pop Music.

The Fault, Dear Brutus, Is Not in Our Stars...

Caller ID: Bane of telemarketers, it is one of the greatest technological innovations ever created. However, I must confess that I am less than proud of another purpose for which I use it.

You shouldn't have to dodge a friend's calls. But I know it's going to be one more sad tale. "My landlord hates me." "I have the roommate from hell." "My co-workers play tricks on me." "My girlfriend is a conniving witch."

I was sympathetic at first. He's my friend; he's getting a bum deal. I've got to be supportive. It's the law. Well, okay, maybe not the law, but certainly it is somewhat of an obligation.

But it keeps on... time after time... call after call... crisis after dramatic crisis-- it's always something.

Sympathies wane, and are replaced by irritation; I mean come on-- Peter Parker doesn't have this much bad luck!

I'm thinking: "It's you, guy. I think I'm hearing a very edited version of the actual events. You are the target of all these unpleasantries for a reason-- one you either don't recognize or are too embarrassed to mention. In fact, if I knew the whole story, I would probably favor the other side."

But I don't say that. I probably should, but I don't. Odds are, in his mind, it would be a betrayal; I would be one more person who stabs him in the back for no reason.

So I don't tell him the truth. I do my friend a disservice instead.

I don't answer the phone.

Perhaps

I will begin weblogging again soon.