Saturday, March 18, 2017

Explaining My Life Away

Yeah, I’m a little late in getting this piece to those of you who read it. I apologize.
Truth is, I haven’t much felt like writing.  Perhaps if I explain, you’ll understand.
I have several health problems that I’m dealing with. Usually, only one manifests itself at a given time. It might be the diabetic neuropathy, which can cause your feet to burn – there are no flames but it sure feels like there are. Often, the afflicted endures an especially exhilarating  experience, when your feet feel as if there are ulcers, or perhaps boils, on the bottom of the feet. There are no real sores , but it sure feels like there are. Or it might be the arthritic knee that starts throbbing , not allowing too much use. Or perhaps the worst of all  - spinal stenosis – shows up and raises hell for a few days. Stenosis is a strangling of the spinal column, which pulls the walls of the column into the nerves. Yes, there are real nerves there, and it sure feels like it.
There are medicines, palliatives really, that help … sometimes, but not particularly. Lyrica helps the feet. It really does take the pain away … but one of the side effects – Oh, those side effects! – is that it makes the user gain weight. I quit Lyrica for awhile and lost thirty pounds. When the feet started to hurt again I got back on Lyrica for a couple of weeks and gained ten pounds back! Meanwhile, Dan McManus, the realty guy, told me about Amitriptiline, which helps. I haven’t noticed any upward movement on bathroom scales, as yet. Wait and see.
When the knee is throbbing, there isn’t much that can be done. Just sit still and watch whatever ballgame comes on. Same with the stenosis. These two problems are only, sort of, fixable. The knee will keep getting worse until replacement becomes the only option. I dread the day. Unfortunately, the back is a different story. The last neurosurgeon I saw, Dr. CW Kung of Elmira, said he couldn’t fix what was wrong there.  Same with the Laser Spine Institute. They and Dr. Kung both said there is too much to fix. Ouch. That hurts. The last thing you want your doctor to say is, “I can’t help you.” My questions were all answered months later when yet another neurosurgeon, while holding  my MRI up to examine it, said, “Wow! I’ve never seen so much arthritis in one back, that’s for sure!” This was the guy who shot me down for getting one of those spine stimulators. He said there was so much arthritis, there was no room for the stimulator! Tired of getting bad news from neurosurgeons, I stopped going to doctors … except for the optician, the dermatologist, and the cardiologist I saw last week, I’m doing well.
I know what some of you are thinking: You’re thinking, aren’t you, that all the stuff that caused me to ail did not stop me from walking? You see? I know what you are thinking. Let me see if I can change your mind. It is true, is it not, that when you ail in a hurting way, you look for a comfortable place to sit. Once found, you thoughtlessly throw the family cat from that place and fall in to it. It feels so good to you, this comfy spot, that you swear you’ll never move from it.
Suddenly, you remember there is a term paper due tomorrow. You put it off all semester, but your time is up, and you have not even researched it. Not only that, Mrs. Battles, (or as you usually call your senior class teacher, Old Battleax)told the whole class that if the term paper was, for some godly or ungodly reason not turned in, or if it were not of senior class quality, that person would not receive his or her diploma.
“Oh, my God,” you say, “That woman, the Battleax, is ruining my sick days – hell, my whole sick weekend.”
You hatch a plan. You call your best friend, a very smart girl, and putting on your very best sick voice, you ask her to research the Battle of Fredericksburg, a Civil War battle.  And could she do it tonight, and you yourself will write the paper tomorrow when you’re feeling better.

And you think you won’t forgive me for turning in this late paper? Of course you will. You been here before, haven’t you. By the way, is your paper ready to hand in? I’d bet you are all in the library tonight. Whadya bet?

Wednesday, March 8, 2017

Thieves and Democrats think alike.

There certainly seems to be a lot of vermin around willing to crap on other people’s lives. They loot, tell lies, run fake protests, but I guess that’s Democrats for you.
Many people have emailed me to ask if there wasn’t something that could be done to remedy the situation. A few answers presented themselves but I thought the first thing to do would be to interview a Democrat and see what he thought.
“Tell me why people like you loot,” I asked a guy named Ratty Lowlife.
“Aw, go ahead, blame me, why don’t ya?”
“Hey, wait I wasn’t blaming you personally …”
“Yeah, but you were gonna. I know your type, Newshawk. You’re just like all the rest …”
“The rest of who?”
“You know. Cops. News reporters. Soc …social, people who study other people. Victims are always complaining and blaming people like me when lies are being told, and there are protests happening.”
“But you’re a Democrat. What do you think - there’s someone else to blame those things on? Certainly, you wouldn’t blame a Republican. It’s not our style. Republicans have more class than Democrats ever had. “
“Oh, pooh. Republicans have some nerve, blaming Democrats for all the nasty stuff that goes on. If there’s a riot, Republicans blame Democrats. Worse, they claim that wealthy Democrats are paying us to stage riots.”
“Well, it’s true!”
“Is not!”
“Is so!”
“Uh, uh!”
“I’ll bet you’re one of them that hates President Trump.”
“Oh, god, I thought I was gonna faint when he got elected.”
“Did you huddle in a doorway clutching your teddy bear tightly to your chest? You look the type!” I said with a big smile.
“Yeah, screw you, Newshawk. I was upset!”
“Oh, so you and all the other sissies were cringing somewhere, tightly holding your teddy bears?”
“Mine was a fuzzy lamb.”
“One you just stole from the toy department of some store, after smashing in the window?
“Well, yeah, I guess.”
“See what I mean? Did it have a pink bow around its neck?” trying to sound sympathetic.
“Naw, not when I got it. I had to …er … find one. Put it around her neck.”
“A bow you just stole from the toy department of some store, after smashing out the window?”
“Yeah, but, did you know these store owners have insurance on their stuff, in case it get stole?”
“Sure, they have to recover their losses somehow.”
Lowlife looked as if he were about to pop. “If shop keepers can get money back when their stuff gets stole, then I think we thieves should get paid for stealing it, in the first place.”
“Well, I … er … don’t doubt that you think that way.“
“But does anybody pay us for stealing the stuff in the first place … or breaking the window? N-A-A-A-W.”
“What do you think should be done to ease the plight of the hapless thief?” I asked.
“You’re saying that instead of being punished for being a thief, you should be paid for being one?”
“Yepper. You got it, Champ. Say I’m walking along and I see a car I like with the keys left in it. Now, you gotta know, man, it’s my duty to steal that car. I mean, it’s only right. Right?”
“Yeah, sure … I guess.”
“Say I don’ take the car and turn in a voucher and collect a couple of grand from an insurance company or a bank or someplace.  Everyone would be better off, ain’t that the truth?”

“Or you could go into left-wing politics – you think just like a Democrat!”

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Cowboy Don Takes on Lefty Rodeo

Several readers have asked why it is that I haven’t been writing anything about politics. Well, it’s like this: For the past eight years (or so) I’ve been picking up a lot of good material on a presidential type who is, was and always will be a liberal Democrat. And liberal Democrats are oh-h-h-h so much more interesting to write about than just about anything else I can think of to write.
Let’s face it, there’s a lot of shit wrong with liberal Democrats, especially this latest batch.
All this crap about riots and mobs and beating up people … who the hell do these people think they are, anyway? Shitheads having a hissy fit.
All of the turmoil, almost entirely aimed at President Trump, comes via the Democrats – we all know that. These riots are all bought and paid for by wealthy Democrats – George Soros, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama (and many others – Chucky Schumer, Nancy Pelosi, Dingy Harry Reid, Moonbeam Jerry Brown, and so on, to name just a few). These people are seething because they lost the election. Never mind they had a poor, unlikeable candidate, who fully expected to win in a landslide, and the Left never once doubted her ability to pull it off. They thought they had a super female running for the most powerful job in the world, who couldn’t possibly lose to an outsider with no (or little) political experience. Donald Trump was not supposed to win that election, and nobody knows it better than the Democrats. And, man, oh, man, they are pissed. And man, oh, man, am I glad they’re pissed because I would hate to wake up every morning with the thought of dealings with Hillary Clinton as president. The right person won the election, no doubt about it, but it will be impossible to convince very many Democrats that that’s the case.
Democrats never admit they are wrong, just as they never allow a fellow Democrat to be successfully accused of anything. When that happens the entire party circles the wagons, to protect the accused. When a Republican is accused of something (doesn’t matter what it is), all Republicans run for the hills, so as not to attract any “taint” to themselves. In the current vernacular, they are thrown under the bus. Not so Democrats. Prime example: Hillary Clinton.  Everybody knew the woman was guilty of all that business with the emails and the shaking down of world leaders for very large sums of money as down payments for favors when she became president. Anybody else is in jail; Not Hillary. Why? The Left simply couldn’t afford to have its presidential candidate locked up for treason. Instead of habitating a jail cell, HRC is sitting home financing riots in America’s streets and doing whatever she can to disrupt the legitimate presidency of Donald Trump.
Meanwhile, the president is going about causing his campaign promises to come to fruition. He said he would build a wall between us and Mexico. He’s already proposed that legislation. He said he wanted to keep people whose backgrounds were unknowable out of the country; the Left blocked that move but it ain’t over yet. He wants to Repeal and Replace BOcare, and plans are in the mix. He wants to overhaul the nation’s infrastructure: he’s just asked Congress for a trillion dollars to do it. And there’s more, plenty more. All stuff he said he would do while on the campaign trail. There’s no B.S. in the Oval Office now, friends and neighbors. We got us a real action figure in Donald J. Trump.
Y’all kin call me names and all; Hell, I don’t care what you say. I’m just gonna sit back and enjoy the rodeo. I’m gonna sit back and watch as Cowboy Don ropes and ties them lefty heifers and bulls with any balls (if he can a lefty bull with any). Yessiree, and a fine show it will be – watching as Cowboy Don makes America Great Again. Yah, Ho-o-o-o!

And shame to any assholes who stand in his way.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

Much Better Later Than Sooner

When ideas are tough to come by, the tough make up stuff - as you'll see.

Like most kids I had an imaginary friend. My friend’s name was Later, and the reason I got along so well with Later was that Later saw that I could put things off I didn’t want to do until sometime Later on. (Most of you will get what I mean.)
For instance, I wouldn’t have been able to buy so many things if Later hadn’t been there to inspire my purchasing. I’d have, say, 10 cents in my pocket and blow the whole wad on licorice twists. My ma would ask why I’d spent all my money on candy. “Fer Later,” I’d say. “I’ll eat a few of them now and save some fer Later.”
Being a typical grown-up, she didn’t understand, She didn’t realize I wanted to share my loot between Now and Later. It was, after all, when Later never came that I would eat all my candy Now.
“Now” was okay when it came to buying and eating licorice twists and Necco wafers, but I didn’t care much for Now when it came to picking up walnuts and pulling weeds. Now said chores had to be done Now and I always wanted to wait for Later.
What bothered me most about Now was his influence on Ma. She’ll tell me to go pick up walnuts. I’d say, “ah-h-h, Now? Can’t they wait fer Later. (Like Later was going to lend a hand!)
“Now!” she said, and sure enough Now got the job done. I don’t think Later minded much, lazy as he was and all; he’d rather put things off. That’s why he and I got along so well, you see.
If I was too slow picking up the nuts, Ma would stick her head out the window and say, kind of nasty like, “That oughta be done by Now.” That’s true I thought , I could use some help. But Now wouldn’t be coaxed into working any faster, especially if he could wait for Later.
Now stayed in Ma’s shirt pocket all the time – when she washed windows, scrubbed floors, ironed clothes, cooked dinner.  Being closer to her ear, Now kept Ma tuned into what I was doing all the time, kept her looking out the window to see what I was doing.
“Is he getting done, Now?” she’d want to know.
“Naw, not really. Seems he’d rather wait for Later,” the snitch would say. I came to dislike Now very much.
I didn’t like Again much either. Now and Again were very close with Ma, especially when it came to picking up walnuts and pulling weeds. I never could get my point across that if I didn’t want to do it Now, I couldn’t be expected to enjoy doing it Again. But no one seemed to care what I thought. None of my shenanigans worked. But I did manage to confuse Ma on several occasions.
She’d say, “It’s time to go pull the weeds in the garden Again. Go and do it Now, never mind Later.” (On second thought, maybe she hadn’t gotten them confused. They make perfect sense to me now that some time has passed.)
There were some other parts of speech around that I liked better than others. I liked Sooner okay, by not as much as Later, of course. “Go pull weeds Now,” she’d say. “Can’t it wait for Later?” I’d say. “It has to be done Sooner or Later, she’d say” mixing things up again. “How about after fishin’; will Then do?”  “Naw. It’s got to be Sooner than that! I’ve been where you fish.” I didn’t care for Now and Then any more than I cared for Now and Again. Both had the bothersome prospect of having to do something again sometime in the future.
Ma and I of course had our preferences. She liked Then only when it was closer to Sooner than Later, and I preferred Later when it was closer to Never. Ma despised Never. She was always saying things like, Better Late than Never, and Better Sooner than Later, and Never put off until Tomorrow(Later) what you could do Today (Now).
I liked There okay, but I didn’t care for Here and There together. “Here!” she’d say. “How about There?” I ask. “Okay, Here and There!” Ouch.
Not once did Ma ever suggest Now or Never, half of which I could have lived with. She liked making my choices difficult ones . For her, all that mattered was Here and Now or Now and Again (Soon) or the much preferred Here and Now. She would later take a shine to Right Here and Right Now.

 I would much prefer Left Now and Left Again – to go fishin’!

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Nothing Much New About New Cars

Shopping for a new car is no less mind-boggling then shopping for a bottle of shampoo – there is so much to choose from without having any real choice. There is a perplexing sameness to the myriad items in a particular category, but that hasn’t stopped the advertising claims that each is superior to the other, when the only real difference might be the color. Or in the case of cars, the shape of the taillight.
I found myself in a bit of a traffic jam the other day – a traffic jam in Steuben County is when  there are six other cars in view of your car all headed the same way on the highway – and I noticed how little difference there was among them. They weren’t all the same make, either – there were a couple of Chevys, and couple of Fords, and they all had the names of sports teams on them – Cougars, Broncos, Lynxes - no Donkeys or Mules, however.
I was snooping around on a new car lot one day, just kicking some tires as the saying goes, when I became mindful that some of the major parts seemed to be lacking. Some of the fixtures that used to come with a new set of wheels had, indeed, become options. And in many cases the only designation used to identify a car was a set of letters and numbers.
I was kicking the tires on an SUV when a guy walks up and wonders if he can help me.
“Nice looking car,” I noted.
“Yessir, That’s one of our QZRK22PKUs. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”
“What’s the name of this thing,” I asked.
“It’s a Water Buffalo, sir.”
“A QZ … What did you say this was?”
“A QZRK22PKU, sir ,,,”
“How do you know that? All it says here is Water Buffalo.”
“We are required to memorize the model numbers, sir.  This is just one of the models of this make of car. For instance, over there is a QRV …”
“I’d like to look at that one over there,” pointing in the opposite direction. “What’s that called?”
“That’s one of our newest models – the Mama Hippo, model GSPM7-ought-ought D. The slightly smaller one next to it is a Baby Hippo and the big sucker  is the Bull …”
“How’dya tell a Hippo from a Water Buffalo.”
“The biggest difference is the price. Hippos cost a little more.”
“You don’t say? Why is that? Where’s the difference,” I asked.
“Hippos come road-ready. You just hop in and drive away!”
“You can’t do that in a Water Buffalo …
“Or a River Rhino …”
“A what?”
“A River Rhino, sir. That’s one you’re leaning on.”
“What would I have to do to one of them in order to be able to drive it off the lot?”
“Put a carburetor on it.”
“There’s no carburetor on this 45,000 dollar car?”
“Nope, carburetors are extra. But it does come stock with a glove compartment, three cup holders, and windshield wipers. You have to pay a little more for seats, though; seats are extras.”
“Oh, yeah? How about a radio?”
“Radios are optional. We do have a wide range to choose from, though. You can get a standard AM/FM or one with multiband overseas capability, which is installed in the trunk.”
“If you can get one in there,” looking over a Water Buffalo Calf in the adjacent row. “I suppose all of your cars come equipped with a steering wheel and tires? I think you guys have been screwing up when putting spares in the newer models; they’re much too small; they look as though they belong on a wheelbarrow.”
“Yessir. We’re just trying to keep the price down. We’re very people minded – bullish on America, as it were.”
“Yeah, right. What else you got?”
“Well, let’s see. Over there’s an Armadillo; right next to it is a Platypus. If you like a four-wheel drive pickup, there’s a Pack-E-Derm – it’s the same one you see on TV sitting on a mountaintop with no roads going up it.”
“Yeah. Good ad for helicopters, and I don’t see one around here. Besides, if I’m going up a mountain that steep, I’d rather have a mountain goat. Say, you got a Mountain Goat around here? Ah, never mind, I don’t have much use for a truck that can climb over boulders and crush rows of cars. I don’t come up on many of them on the way to the “Y”.
“Say-y-y, what’s that sitting over there by the showroom? Looks like a Ford or a Chevy or maybe a Buick.”

“Naw. That’s just the boss’s Cadillac. Nothing special about that.”

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Putting DC's Best to Good Use

.
 I was happily at home tinkering in my garage. I had just finished nailing a couple of boards together when my pal Red-State Louie arrived with a six-pack of Red Dog.
“Hey, ‘Hawk, whatcha making?” Louie wanted to know, handing me a beer.
“Working on a prototype for a new green car,” says I.
“Prototype, huh? I see you’re making it out of wood. That’s pretty green. What’s it gonna run on, wood chips? That would be really green, eh, eh.”
“B.S. I figure to set up shop within an easy drive of the Crapitol. Fuel would be in endless supply. The only catch would be that the Socialists would soon find a way to tax it.”
“Yeah, it’s the only commodity they ever produced down there. You’d think they’d pay you to haul it out of there. Better watch it, they’ll be charging you to haul it away, then taxing you for using it. Whadya gonna call your green car?”
“The Fart. It’ll be manufactured with green materials, it might as well have a green name. Farts are a natural phenomenon. They’re part and parcel to b.s. Help me lift the hood into place, would ya?”
We put the hood on and, of course, it fit perfectly. Louie asked, “Where’s the fenders, I don’t see any?”
“Ah, it won’t need fenders. They’ll just get all dinged up when you’re in the Walmart parking lot. The insurance companies will love the Fart.”
“This thing have a roof?” Louie asked.
“Yeah, over there, that piece of blue tarp I got down at the hardware store. Help me stretch it across these upright pieces. There we go, now it looks like a real green prototype.”
“Looks like a piece of crap, to me, somethin’ right out of the Beverly Hillbillies.” opined Louie, taking a big slug of Red Dog.
“I could put a coat of paint on it, I s’pose.” I went into the garage and gathered several partial cans of paint. After prying the lids off, I poured them all together and mixed the colors. I came out with a lovely chartreuse and, grinning from ear to ear, began slapping the paint on with a stiff, old brush. “There,” I said at the end, “is a thing of beauty.”
“Yeah, right. Hey, who’s going to pay for the production of this, er, work of art.?”
“The Energy Department. Bureaucrats are always looking for green projects to throw money at. They’ve already blown about six and a half billion of our dollars on green projects that don’t work. The Fart is just the type of thing they’re looking for. You’re not only looking at a prototype, you’re looking at a proto-millionaire.”
“Is there an alternate fuel source? I mean, what if, heaven forbid, and I know it’s unlikely, you run out of b.s?”
I unlocked the trunk and threw up the lid to show him the solar panels. “The Energy Department will get all giddy and start writing a check as soon as they see these. Solar panels are hugely green. I thought about installing a mast and a big sail to use wind, which is another big green thing. But the Fart would really be ugly with a sail sticking up through the roof.”
“Yeah, well it’s obvious you have good taste, eh, eh.. You’re a real Michelangelo.”
“True. True. Maybe I’ll rename the Fart. Call it the Mikey!”
“Why not just call it the Fred. Hell, you invented this thing and built it from scratch. There were lots of early pioneers in the auto industry that named their first cars after themselves – Oldsmobile, Ford, Packard. Ford named one after his son Edsel. Naming your car the Fred would put you in some pretty tall company.”
“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just call it the BS Bus. Or maybe the Green Wienie. Ha, the Energy Department getting diddled by the Green Wienie! Ah, hell, there’s no use diddling somebody that don’t know they’re being diddled.”
“By the way, does this contraption really work?” he asked just as a tow truck backed into the driveway. The driver came back and began hooking up the Fart so as to pull it onto the bed of the truck.

“What? Surely you jest, my friend! If it actually worked, I’d never get any money from the government.”

Monday, January 30, 2017

A Future Sales Pitch

For many years now, the banks have been sending credit cards in the mail. You’ve been preapproved for a loan, of course, or so they say in the beginning. You really haven’t, you see, until you respond and the bank has run a credit check on you, to see if you’re worthy of their trust. Then, you might receive a credit card with a ridiculously low credit limit on it, just enough to bait you into seeking a higher one.
It used to be, back when interest rates weren’t so low and the banks were making money, it was easier to get a loan. You’d get all gussied up in your best suit and, God forbid, shine your shoe before going to see a loan officer and do your best impressing him or her with your trustworthiness for using some of their money. How well a person presented himself , the pride he took in his appearance, clearly had a bearing on the officer’s decision.
Not anymore. Most people have forgotten how to dress properly; most couldn’t tie a knot in a tie for the life of them. Others couldn’t fathom the process of shining their shoes – after all, you really can’t shine a pair of sneakers.
This change in grooming habits of the average American hasn’t stopped the banks from devising ways to do business with you. Banks and companies with products to sell have lost sleep dreaming up ways to put those products right into your home, short of dropping them in your mailbox personally. What if the  credit industry should take the bull by the horns and, instead of sending the means to buy, just go ahead and send the merchandise.
Imagine coming home from work, or the unemployment line, wherever you spend your day these days, to find a brand new La-Z Boy recliner sitting right where your old La-Z Boy recliner used to sit.
“Say,” you say to your wife (or whomever you’re sharing space with these days), “where did the brand-spanking new La-Z Boy recliner come from, dear (or whomever).”
“The nice people at the furniture store dropped it off this afternoon,” dear says. “Isn’t is lovely?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s a beauty,” you say, “But who told the furniture store to deliver the lovely La-Z Boy recliner?”
“Nobody. They just figured it was time you had a new one.”
“They did, did they? And did they figure how we are going to pay for the lovely La-Z Boy recliner?”
“Oh, don’t worry about a thing, dear. The store said they have taken care of everything. They were so wonderful. They arranged to have the payments removed from your social security check every month Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” you say.
There are, as you know, many products that can be bought in such a way. I don’t think I’d want to be in the room when my wife opens a surprise package of women’s undergarments shipped from Frederick’s of Hollywood. That should not be considered a part of a successful marketing strategy.
But, what if you arrived home one day to find a brand new car sitting in your driveway, perhaps a real spiffy one like a 2017 BMW 1055 Gran Torino, msrp about $100,000. Or maybe a 2017 Cadillac CTS Sport Sedan, selling for circa 60,000 balloons. Lying in the front seat you discover an envelope addressed to CARSORT 2017 DQ – Occupant, which, sad to say, is you. You rip open the envelope to find a form letter that reads:
“An exhaustive  credit analysis conducted by our firm revealed to us that you do not owe enough money. We have, therefore, chosen you to become the proud owner of this incredibly aesthetic, totally ergonomic, richly designed automobile.
“To save you the hassle of acquiring ownership of this fine ride - and ain’t it a beauty, sir? – we have extracted a nominal down payment from your savings account. This extraction was an amount your exhaustively researched financial portfolio indicates you can easily afford, provided, of course, you are not planning a withdrawal anytime in the near future.
“As a further service to you, sir, we have taken the liberty of registering this great set of wheels  - and it truly is a beauty, isn’t it, sir? – in your name at the department of motor vehicles in your state of residence. You will find the registration fee on your credit card statement tagged DMV fee. On a personal note, please observe the personalized vanity plates already attached to the vehicle, which we are confident you will drive with pride. The cost of the plates and associated fees have been added to your water bill.
“Listen up! Should you choose to reject our kind offer, dial the above 900 number anytime between the hours of three and five a.m. on Saturday or Sunday morning; ask for the Phantom. Following the receipt of your call, we will initiate the necessary procedures to repossess this, the slickest automobile in the world today, from your premises. You have three days, including yesterday, to make this most important decision.
“Additionally, a refusal to take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to become the proud owner of this precision-built dandy, you will be liable for towing charges plus the cost of the totally over-priced vanity plates and, oh yeah, the smiley faces on the mirrors, which were added at our expense. Also, it will be your responsibility to notify the DMV and pay any transfer fees.
“Also, it will be your responsibility to contact our attorneys at your expense to arrange an equitable reimbursement to us for the inconvenience of wasting our time on you. If, however, we do not hear from you, your first interest payment is due the day after tomorrow.

“Sincerely, your good buddies at Movers and Shakers Merchandisers Inc. Somewhere Off Shore, USA!”

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