CSotD: Scams, earworms and other annoyances
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Mother Goose & Grimm with a pretty good analysis of how it works.
The dog and I walk past a "wealth management" company each day and I always shudder a bit, because, my experience is that, when they talk about "wealth," they don't mean yours.
I liked them better when they called themselves "financial planners," probably for the same reason it's more polite to ask someone up for a cup of coffee than to be more direct. And the same unspoken verb applies in both cases, albeit in different senses.
When my grandfather died, I came into enough money that I went to a financial planner who charged me several hundred dollars to work up a plan, which turned out to be that she sorted my papers into plastic folders with the name of her firm on them, and then ran what was left of my holdings through a computer that "analyzed" it on roughly the same level of sophistication as the old computerized horoscope programs.
According to the expensive dot-matrix printout, what I, and my wife N/A, needed to do was to churn the entire portfolio and put it into funds that paid her a kickback commission.
Which provided a pretty good reflection of my financial acumen: I was stupid enough to give her the up-front fee, but not stupid enough to let her destroy everything else.
A few years later, she abruptly closed shop and disappeared, but I was off the business beat by then and all I ever found out was that, if you mentioned her name, business people would start laughing.
Ah well. As they say in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, "We grow too soon old, and too late smart."
Musical Juxtaposition of the Day
(Retail)
I'm told that, after awhile, you don't even hear it any more.
Maybe. I remember when then-wife (before she changed her name to N/A) and I rented a house on a busy highway on a low grade to a stoplight, which meant that 18-wheelers were continually either downshifting (with air brakes) or upshifting (and accelerating) as they passed our house.
It was also on the main flight path of the airport.
After a few weeks, we adjusted, but people who came to visit were really disconcerted by how casually and automatically we simply raised and lowered our voices as required.
However, I also worked for a time at a store and I never ever stopped hearing the goddam Muzak or stopped taking home the insipid earworms it provided, and, if I had to choose, would take the trucks and planes over that in a heartbeat.
And, speaking of earworms …
Maria Scrivan's Half Full provides a serendipitous excuse to pass along an earworm that happens to be on my mind at the moment and so might as well be on yours.
This morning, Dave Stephens posted this extensive coverage of the 30th anniversary of the collapse of Rajneeshpuram, the bizarre Oregon commune set up by the followers of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, on his Facebook page.
Ah, the memories!
The Rajneeshees, as they were known, moved to Antelope, Oregon, in 1981, created their ashram/commune and basically took the place over, which included bringing in 200 2,000 (updated) homeless people and registering them to vote so the Rajneeshees could overwhelm the locals and become the town's government.
The purpose of the community was (A) spiritual enlightenment and (B) purchasing expensive cars, watches and other trappings of wealth for the Bhagwan and making sure his life was as pleasant as earthly existence could be.
It became a media sensation, particularly on Nightline, where the best part was the Bhagwan's personal assistant, Sheela.
Rather than responding to specific criticisms, Sheela would repeatedly declare them all, in an accent thick enough that apparently the network censors didn't recognize the term, "Boolsheet!"
Later, after things had collapsed, it turned out that sweet little Sheela wasn't so funny after all, which you'll see in the Peabody-winning documentary included in that first link, but which the Wikipedia entry on the commune summarizes thusly:
The subsequent criminal investigation, the largest in Oregon history, confirmed that a secretive group had, unbeknownst to both government officials and nearly all Rajneeshpuram residents, engaged in a variety of criminal activities, including the attempted murder of Rajneesh's physician, wiretapping and bugging within the commune and within Rajneesh's home, poisonings of two public officials, and arson.
However, before things got to that point, it was all pretty funny, at least unless you happened to be a resident of Antelope, Oregon, and I began to feature occasional appearances on my talk show by "Baba Duronron," who urged listeners to come build him a commune in Rush, Colorado, which he would then change to "Relax, Colorado."
His plan was that his followers would work hard so that he could spend his time fishing and drinking Genesee beer.
And I'm sorry I don't have a recording of the Baba's theme song, but those of a certain age will walk away with the earworm anyway. (You should imagine it slowed down and played on ill-tuned dulcimers)
The Song of the Bagman:
I met him at the ashram and my heart stood still
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
He said I'd live forever if I fit the bill
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
Yes, my heart stood still!
Yes, I fit the bill!
Yes, and when he chanted "Om,"
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
Bedsheet and some sandals and a red third eye
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
I took one look it was a-my-oh-my
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
Yes, a red third eye!
Yes, it was my-oh-my!
Yes, and when he chanted "Om,"
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
He taught me how to meditate, it felt so fine!
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
I've given him the earthly goods that once were mine
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
Yes, it felt so fine!
Yes, his things were mine!
Yes, and when he chanted "Om,"
Da do ron ron ron Da do ron ron
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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