The New York State attorney general is investigating Exxon Mobil, claiming the company defrauded investors by minimizing the dangers that climate change posed to the oil company's business. I am, of course, shocked--shocked!--that an oil company would minimize the dangers of climate change. I am, however, less than sympathetic to people who may have suffered financially because they took that oil company's word about the relative lack of dangers posed by climate change. It seems to me that if supposedly savvy investors are so willfully ignorant as to ignore overwhelming scientific evidence, they deserve whatever financial penalties befall them. That's just Darwinism. A concept these investors would presumably also deny.
*************
Ben Carson has released a rap song--guess he felt his campaign hadn't provided enough fodder for ridicule. In the song, he speaks about picking up the "baton of freedom." Presumably to fend off the pom-poms of tyranny.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Thursday, November 5, 2015
In Which We Offer Potentially Life-Saving Advice
We all know certain topics that are off-limits for civilized debate. If you ever want to start a fight with a friend, a loved one, or your legions of Facebook followers, all you need to do is offer up the mildest of critiques on their views on religion, politics, abortion, gun control... But another equally inflammatory topic is missing from this list, one that far too many people bumble heedlessly onto, not realizing the number of friendships, marriages, and international peace treaties destroyed by unwinnable arguments: Coffee.
People defend their coffee habits the way ISIS defends the Koran--with only slightly fewer beheadings. Some, for example, are if-the-coffee-was-made-more-than-nine-seconds-ago-it's-pig-slop types, while others occupy a position of this-coffee-was-made-during-the-first-Bush-administration-but-I-don't-feel-like-making-a-fresh-pot-so-hand-it-over. On one ninety-degree day, I overheard a Starbucks barista question a customer's "extra hot" order: Said customer took off one of her earrings and punctured the poor guy's larynx. Understandably, no charges were filed. Seriously, people, it's not worth it.
Tea, by the way, is a perfectly acceptable debate topic. Not that people don't feel strongly about tea, but, let's face it, they're tea drinkers. What are they going to do? Crochet you to death?
People defend their coffee habits the way ISIS defends the Koran--with only slightly fewer beheadings. Some, for example, are if-the-coffee-was-made-more-than-nine-seconds-ago-it's-pig-slop types, while others occupy a position of this-coffee-was-made-during-the-first-Bush-administration-but-I-don't-feel-like-making-a-fresh-pot-so-hand-it-over. On one ninety-degree day, I overheard a Starbucks barista question a customer's "extra hot" order: Said customer took off one of her earrings and punctured the poor guy's larynx. Understandably, no charges were filed. Seriously, people, it's not worth it.
Tea, by the way, is a perfectly acceptable debate topic. Not that people don't feel strongly about tea, but, let's face it, they're tea drinkers. What are they going to do? Crochet you to death?
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
In Which We Invite COS to Sharpen Her Scalpel
This morning, FOS sent me the following message:
"Watching a video on the NYTimes web site about the appeal of Ben Carson. Their first snippet of him? 'The ark was built by amateurs, the Titanic was built by professionals'."
Oy.
I assume the point (?) being made (?) is that, when you want a job done right, hire an amateur--which would make the amateur into a professional, but never mind that. Leaving aside for the moment the accuracy of this sentiment--we'll get to that in a moment--I'm trying to figure out what point Carson's trying to make. That he is an amateur politician and thus more trustworthy than professionals? That God trusts amateurs more than professionals and therefore amateurs are more favorable in the eyes of God?
Knowing Carson's penchant for fundamentalist rhetoric, I suspect the latter. But then, God himself kind of stacked the deck against the Titanic professionals by throwing that iceberg at them. If God plays hardball, I don't think it really matters whether you're a professional or an amateur--an engineering degree from MIT won't prevent a smiting, right?
For that matter, who says Noah was an amateur? All we know about his professional life is that after the flood, he became a vintner. We all know that operating wineries is the second career of choice for any number of accomplished professionals in other fields--look at Francis Ford Coppola! It's completely possible that in his first career, Noah was a highly paid carpenter or a skilled arkwright or even an award-winning member of the pre-Hellenic Nouvelle Vague cineaste community, any of which would invalidate Carson's "amateur" claim.
Ultimately, though, I have to agree with Carson's sentiment: For important jobs, amateurs can often be preferable to professionals. If, for example, I needed a tumor removed from my brain, and, to perform the operation, I had to select between, on the one hand, internationally renowned neurosurgeon and nutcase Ben Carson and, on the other, say, my cousin who likes to drink wine and jog, recent events would convince me to choose the amateur.
"Watching a video on the NYTimes web site about the appeal of Ben Carson. Their first snippet of him? 'The ark was built by amateurs, the Titanic was built by professionals'."
Oy.
I assume the point (?) being made (?) is that, when you want a job done right, hire an amateur--which would make the amateur into a professional, but never mind that. Leaving aside for the moment the accuracy of this sentiment--we'll get to that in a moment--I'm trying to figure out what point Carson's trying to make. That he is an amateur politician and thus more trustworthy than professionals? That God trusts amateurs more than professionals and therefore amateurs are more favorable in the eyes of God?
Knowing Carson's penchant for fundamentalist rhetoric, I suspect the latter. But then, God himself kind of stacked the deck against the Titanic professionals by throwing that iceberg at them. If God plays hardball, I don't think it really matters whether you're a professional or an amateur--an engineering degree from MIT won't prevent a smiting, right?
For that matter, who says Noah was an amateur? All we know about his professional life is that after the flood, he became a vintner. We all know that operating wineries is the second career of choice for any number of accomplished professionals in other fields--look at Francis Ford Coppola! It's completely possible that in his first career, Noah was a highly paid carpenter or a skilled arkwright or even an award-winning member of the pre-Hellenic Nouvelle Vague cineaste community, any of which would invalidate Carson's "amateur" claim.
Ultimately, though, I have to agree with Carson's sentiment: For important jobs, amateurs can often be preferable to professionals. If, for example, I needed a tumor removed from my brain, and, to perform the operation, I had to select between, on the one hand, internationally renowned neurosurgeon and nutcase Ben Carson and, on the other, say, my cousin who likes to drink wine and jog, recent events would convince me to choose the amateur.
Monday, November 2, 2015
In Which We Mark Our Calendars for Next Year
I really can't be too upset.
If someone had told me in March--or, heck, July--that the Mets would be in contention for a playoff spot in late September, I'd have been pretty happy. If someone had told me they would win the National League East outright, I'd have been thrilled. If someone had told me they would play in the World Series. . . well, I would have run as fast and as far as I could because I would clearly have been speaking with a dangerous lunatic, completely out of touch with reality.
Ultimately, the Mets overachieved this year. While no one can argue with the almost unfathomable excellence of their starting pitchers, the team overall didn't have much going for it: an unpredictable offense, a mediocre defense, and, aside from Jeurys Familia, a shaky bullpen. And yet the Mets got just hot enough at just the right time to make it all the way to the World Series. Where, yes, they were hopelessly overmatched.
I must congratulate the Kansas City Royals. I don't think I've ever seen a team that played so. . . right. They were relentless, and they made no mistakes. For Mets fans, watching these games was like the proverbial death by a thousand cuts. Royals hitters, for the most part, never hit the ball particularly hard, and yet they never seemed to make an out. It seemed every time I looked up Eric Hosmer was hitting another soft grounder just out of the reach of Wilmer Flores to drive in two more runs. I'll bet if I turned the TV on now I'd see Mike Moustakas hitting another check-swing liner just over the head of David Wright, somehow driving in six runners, all from first base.
The play last night that tied the game was emblematic of everything the Royals did well: Hosmer at third, one out. Familia gets Moustakas to do exactly what Familia wants him to do: hit a little nothing grounder that's easily fielded by David Wright. Wright grabs the ball, looks Hosmer back at third, and throws to first for the out--and as soon as he throws, Hosmer charges home. First baseman Lucas Duda throws home, wildly, the ball sails away from the catcher, and Hosmer slides in with the tying run. People blame Duda, but that's unfair: Even with an absolutely perfect throw, I'm not sure he gets Hosmer. It was an insane play. Hosmer should never have attempted it. And yet it worked.
At any rate, we can look back on an unexpectedly rewarding season with an admittedly disappointing ending. But with the group of young pitchers and with, hopefully, the addition of some offensive help, the future is bright. Just wait 'til next year. Let's go Mets!
If someone had told me in March--or, heck, July--that the Mets would be in contention for a playoff spot in late September, I'd have been pretty happy. If someone had told me they would win the National League East outright, I'd have been thrilled. If someone had told me they would play in the World Series. . . well, I would have run as fast and as far as I could because I would clearly have been speaking with a dangerous lunatic, completely out of touch with reality.
Ultimately, the Mets overachieved this year. While no one can argue with the almost unfathomable excellence of their starting pitchers, the team overall didn't have much going for it: an unpredictable offense, a mediocre defense, and, aside from Jeurys Familia, a shaky bullpen. And yet the Mets got just hot enough at just the right time to make it all the way to the World Series. Where, yes, they were hopelessly overmatched.
I must congratulate the Kansas City Royals. I don't think I've ever seen a team that played so. . . right. They were relentless, and they made no mistakes. For Mets fans, watching these games was like the proverbial death by a thousand cuts. Royals hitters, for the most part, never hit the ball particularly hard, and yet they never seemed to make an out. It seemed every time I looked up Eric Hosmer was hitting another soft grounder just out of the reach of Wilmer Flores to drive in two more runs. I'll bet if I turned the TV on now I'd see Mike Moustakas hitting another check-swing liner just over the head of David Wright, somehow driving in six runners, all from first base.
The play last night that tied the game was emblematic of everything the Royals did well: Hosmer at third, one out. Familia gets Moustakas to do exactly what Familia wants him to do: hit a little nothing grounder that's easily fielded by David Wright. Wright grabs the ball, looks Hosmer back at third, and throws to first for the out--and as soon as he throws, Hosmer charges home. First baseman Lucas Duda throws home, wildly, the ball sails away from the catcher, and Hosmer slides in with the tying run. People blame Duda, but that's unfair: Even with an absolutely perfect throw, I'm not sure he gets Hosmer. It was an insane play. Hosmer should never have attempted it. And yet it worked.
At any rate, we can look back on an unexpectedly rewarding season with an admittedly disappointing ending. But with the group of young pitchers and with, hopefully, the addition of some offensive help, the future is bright. Just wait 'til next year. Let's go Mets!
Sunday, November 1, 2015
In Which We Call Attention to the Fine Print
The other day, I received an unexpected check from Chase Bank for $6.70. The timing was perfect, since, as it happens, I was exactly $6.70 over my monthly budget. Were it not for this windfall, I would have lost everything--home, car, ability to buy food. . . . I would at the very least have had to forego my venti pumpkin spice until payday. I kissed the check on the lips and vowed never again to put myself in such a precarious situation.
And good thing, too, because the class action lawsuit--the source of the above-mentioned corporate largesse--is becoming a thing of the past. Today, more and more businesses, from banks and credit card companies to restaurants and adultery facilitation websites, slip disclaimers into the fine print of service contracts essentially barring consumers from filing class-action lawsuits. Instead, potential customers must agree to resolve any disputes through binding arbitration--a fact these customers often discover only after suffering injury and seeking legal redress.
In principle, there is nothing wrong with arbitration--it can be an efficient way to settle disputes. Problems arise, however, when the amounts at stake are too small to make it worthwhile for individuals to pursue arbitration on their own behalf. Take my check, for example. (Please don't literally take my check: Starvation! Pumpkin spice withdrawal!) I confess, I have no idea what this check was for: Presumably, Chase engaged in some shenanigans--shocking, I know!--and injured me and any number of other people to the tune of a few dollars each. Now, even if I knew what Chase had done to me, and even if the actual financial harm done me was several times greater than $6.70--$25, $50, heck, maybe even $100--would I really go to the time (potentially months) and expense (potentially thousands of dollars), to try to recoup the money? Not unless I was a fanatic or an idiot.
Yeah, shut up.
The point is, while class action suits result in relatively trivial victories for individual consumers, they also serve to punish and, ideally, deter corporate malfeasance. My tiny check is just a fraction of what must have been a multi-million dollar settlement against Chase. And maybe the memory of that settlement will dissuade Chase from. . . well, doing whatever they did to merit that punishment. We can hope.
What is particularly noxious about these "pro-arbitration" (really just anti-class action) clauses is the arrogance of companies in thinking they could impose them in the first place. What these clauses say, in so many words, is "We reserve the right to do whatever we want--legal or not--and we further declare that you can't do anything about it." And the Supreme Court, because Scalia, somehow has no problem with this: "The antitrust laws do not guarantee an affordable procedural path to the vindication of every claim." Or, as Elena Kagan wrote in her dissent, when consumers feel they have been wronged by arbitration clauses, the judicial response is, "Too darn bad."
So what can consumers do? Not a whole lot. Many of these fine-print contracts allow consumers to opt out of the arbitration clause, but consumers usually have a limited time in which to assert this right--and, of course, finding that provision requires the consumer to read through the whole eye-straining document. Stories tell of one man--I think he lives somewhere in Minnesota--who managed to read through the entire Apple service agreement--but these tales are probably apocryphal. No such man could truly exist. Consumers can also, of course, opt not to patronize businesses that require arbitration, but with more and more companies employing this tactic, alternatives are limited, to say the least.
In the meantime, I'm debating whether to cash my check or just frame it. It may turn out to be a historical artifact of inordinate worth. A relic of a time when consumers had some small power against corporate overlords.
And good thing, too, because the class action lawsuit--the source of the above-mentioned corporate largesse--is becoming a thing of the past. Today, more and more businesses, from banks and credit card companies to restaurants and adultery facilitation websites, slip disclaimers into the fine print of service contracts essentially barring consumers from filing class-action lawsuits. Instead, potential customers must agree to resolve any disputes through binding arbitration--a fact these customers often discover only after suffering injury and seeking legal redress.
In principle, there is nothing wrong with arbitration--it can be an efficient way to settle disputes. Problems arise, however, when the amounts at stake are too small to make it worthwhile for individuals to pursue arbitration on their own behalf. Take my check, for example. (Please don't literally take my check: Starvation! Pumpkin spice withdrawal!) I confess, I have no idea what this check was for: Presumably, Chase engaged in some shenanigans--shocking, I know!--and injured me and any number of other people to the tune of a few dollars each. Now, even if I knew what Chase had done to me, and even if the actual financial harm done me was several times greater than $6.70--$25, $50, heck, maybe even $100--would I really go to the time (potentially months) and expense (potentially thousands of dollars), to try to recoup the money? Not unless I was a fanatic or an idiot.
Yeah, shut up.
The point is, while class action suits result in relatively trivial victories for individual consumers, they also serve to punish and, ideally, deter corporate malfeasance. My tiny check is just a fraction of what must have been a multi-million dollar settlement against Chase. And maybe the memory of that settlement will dissuade Chase from. . . well, doing whatever they did to merit that punishment. We can hope.
What is particularly noxious about these "pro-arbitration" (really just anti-class action) clauses is the arrogance of companies in thinking they could impose them in the first place. What these clauses say, in so many words, is "We reserve the right to do whatever we want--legal or not--and we further declare that you can't do anything about it." And the Supreme Court, because Scalia, somehow has no problem with this: "The antitrust laws do not guarantee an affordable procedural path to the vindication of every claim." Or, as Elena Kagan wrote in her dissent, when consumers feel they have been wronged by arbitration clauses, the judicial response is, "Too darn bad."
So what can consumers do? Not a whole lot. Many of these fine-print contracts allow consumers to opt out of the arbitration clause, but consumers usually have a limited time in which to assert this right--and, of course, finding that provision requires the consumer to read through the whole eye-straining document. Stories tell of one man--I think he lives somewhere in Minnesota--who managed to read through the entire Apple service agreement--but these tales are probably apocryphal. No such man could truly exist. Consumers can also, of course, opt not to patronize businesses that require arbitration, but with more and more companies employing this tactic, alternatives are limited, to say the least.
In the meantime, I'm debating whether to cash my check or just frame it. It may turn out to be a historical artifact of inordinate worth. A relic of a time when consumers had some small power against corporate overlords.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)