Coffee heat rising

Funny’s First Giveaway! The ULTIMATE FaM Product!

Okay, folks. This is it. I’ve found it! THE premier Funny about Money giveaway. A souvenir to remember. And Funny is offering it up to one lucky reader!

Are you ready for this? Well, brace yourself…

HERE IT IS!

Yes! A good 110 carats of genuine highest-quality rhinestones arranged in a superb designer setting of finest top-grade ebony plastic framing the world-class blue-gray smoked plastic sunglasses lenses. Perfect for your summer parties!

Does anything say FUNNY ABOUT MONEY better than this?

O.M.G., it practically shouts “Money”! Or maybe “Funny”… 😉

La Maya and I came across it on our latest estate sale adventure, at a wildly upscale house in Paradise Valley. Possibly “wild” was the operative term with this couple, who are divorcing and selling the marital furniture. The house was very elegant, and they had some lovely things. And…those. Since everything else was impeccably tasteful, we can only assume this artifact is itself impeccably tasteful.

So. Obviously, any self-respecting Funny about Money fan needs a unique pair of sunglasses adorned with solid rhinestone dollar signs. And one lucky person will have them, free! Here’s the plan:

Get your name entered in the giveaway with any or all of these strategies:

Subscribe to Funny about Money by RSS feed or by e-mail.

Tweet about Funny’s first giveaway.

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Click on any of the icons below to share this post.

Blog about Funny’s first giveaway on your site—link to this post, and feel free to copy and reproduce the extraordinary image above of the Official Funny about Money Rhinestone Shades.

Leave a comment to this post, below, explaining where you will wear the gorgeous Official Funny about Money Rhinestone Shades.

To claim your chances to score this outstanding prize, be sure to post a SEPARATE comment to report each of these maneuvers you accomplish.

Deadline is 11:59 p.m. Pacific Daylight Time, Monday, May 23, 2011.

Vote early and vote often!

 

 

Holding Pattern…

Our Hero

The mountain of student papers is finally graded and all the grades are in. Thinking grades were due at 5:00 p.m. yesterday—not 11:00 a.m., as was the fact—I was late because one student had special dispensation to turn in assignments late. But finally all that ess aitch eye got done and officially stamped and filed.

A record number of students failed, two for plagiarizing but most simply because they stopped turning in papers. It’s interesting, the number of community college students who don’t drop when they can’t keep up with a course. On the surface, it would seem better to have a W on your transcript than a D or an F. Apparently, though, there’s a financial incentive: it appears that if they pretend to stay in a course, they get to keep scholarship or loan money that evidently would be forfeited if they dropped. This little bit of fraud is abetted by the District’s policy of allowing them to repeat courses several times and counting only the highest score in the GPA. Thus if you got an F in math and later managed a B, your grade-point average would reflect only the B.

From an instructorly point of view, one shouldn’t complain: it’s that many fewer papers to have to read.

From a taxpayer point of view, though, it seems wasteful. In the comp courses alone, 13% of the classmates failed for this reason.

St. Isabelle

Oh, well… As soon as grades were filed, it was on to indexing this year’s issue of Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History. After plowing through that much student drivel, reading SMRH is actually refreshing! Yesterday I got through a well written piece on a recently discovered Vie of Isabelle of France, a thirteenth-century Franciscan réligieuse sainted because of the alleged miracles she could work. Medieval Europe was so strange that reading about it is like reading of the doings on another planet. It has a science-fictionlike character. To say life in Europe before the Renaissance was very, very different from our reality is to understate.

Meanwhile, I haven’t even begun the Arizona Book Publishing Association’s newsletter, which was due a week ago. And today I have to go to a meeting of our neighborhood group, for which I have agreed to work on a newsletter or write web content—don’t know which yet. And very soon now (like…today?) I need to start the course preps for the summer 101 and 102 classes. That’ll absorb another week of unpaid time. Ugh.

I’m about to slip the bonds of Evil Blackboard, creating new sites on WordPress.com for all three of my courses. The one for the 102s is already up and running—this semester’s bunch tested it for peer-reviewing drafts of their final endless paper, and it worked pretty well. For the purpose, it’s much easier than using Blackboard’s half-baked blog function, because in its clumsiness BB effectively “hides” responses to posts, forcing you to search twice in two different functions for every single student. In WP, all you have to do is run your eye down the page, or sign in as the admin and simply go to manage > comments to find their most recent work. That’s only one of several functions I think will be much simpler.

The other new strategy will be to establish Gmail accounts for each section and tell the students they have to use them to e-mail me and to submit their papers. This will organize all incoming student correspondence by section number, and it also will get it off my personal e-mail, which is swamped with trash forwarded from the college’s and the District’s wayyy tooo many departments.

Not only do these entities emit reams of irrelevant messages to everyone with a maricopa.edu address, employees are in the habit of hitting reply-all to every little self-congratulatory message, every announcement that someone’s spouse died, every invite to a retirement party, and on and on. The largest community college system in the country (vaster even than the Great Desert University, with over 70,000 students the largest pretend-university in the land), the Maricopa County Community College District has a lot of employees, all of them yakking to each other irrelevantly over the e-mail system. The result is that student correspondence (and other important matters) gets lost in the shuffle.

I’d like to unforward the college’s e-mail, once I get the students established in Gmail, and then give my real-world address to the division chair, the division secretary, and the few friends I’ve made over there. However, occasional important messages do come through, and having to visit the college’s system every day in search of those would still require me to sift through all that trash, while adding an extra layer of sign-in hassle.

Meanwhile, several efforts by the magazine-writing students are good enough to press into service as guest posts, and so in the next week or so, while I deal with the mass of urgent work that didn’t get done while I was grading papers, I’ll be running some of those here.

Welp, the sun is up and so I’d better get going. Later!

Images:

Bust of Aristotle. Copy of a bronze by Lysippus. Photo by Jastrow. Public domain.
Sainte Isabelle de France par Louis Desprez (1841), statue refaite d’après un original gothique. Porche de Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, Paris. Photo by Jastrow. Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license.

 

 

What Price Gasoline?

Like everyone else in town, I’ve been putting off buying gas until the last possible minute. Wednesday evening, the Dog Chariot had what looked like a quarter of a tank left. Figured I could get to my Scottsdale breakfast meeting and back to the in-town Costco (cheapest known source of fuel in the city), and so at 6:30 headed east. Interminably east.

By the time I got to lovely mid-town Scottsdale, the gas gauge registered 1/8 of a tank. But the road was slightly inclined, and sometimes (I hoped) the unlevel miniscus in the tank would warp the reading. As I turned onto Scottsdale Road, I noticed a Sinclair station in the AJ’s shopping center at Lincoln and Scottsdale.

Once sprung from the breakfast meeting, I stopped in to pick up a gallon (worth 18 miles), which I knew would carry me into town, where I could fill up at the ghetto Costco.

Pulled up to the pump behind some rich guy who wasn’t even paying attention to how much gas was blasting into his tank, viewed the amazing prices (in Scottsdale gas station owners are not allowed to flaunt their prices with gigantamous roadside signs), backed out, and drove away.

I should’ve known. Sinclair????? There are no Sinclair stations in Arizona. This is some sort of artifact. And what do artifacts cost?

$4.50 a gallon, that’s what artifacts cost.

{gulp!} Could I be reading that right? Surely not. But I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

Drove west, drove west, drove west, drove…until the red idiot light came on, along about 36th street. Spotted a Chevron station at 16th street. Darted in and pumped 1.5 gallons of $3.79 gas. This would suffice to reach the pore folks’ neighborhood.

Drove south drove south drove south drove west some more.

At last I reach familiar territory and whip into the Costco gas station off 19th Avenue and Bethany Home, the lot nearly empty because the store isn’t open at this hour. Usually the line is halfway out to the road.

Hot dang: $3.67!

So it was that, compared to what I would’ve paid if I’d lived in lovely uptown Scottsdale, I saved $12.03 on 14.5 gallons of red-blooded Arabian gasoline.

I reflect: If I had a car that made 35 mpg, such as the Hyundai Sonata, I’d only have to fill up once a month. That would save me $58.72 a month.

Maybe it’s time to trade in the Dog Chariot. Whiz-Bang Financial Manager, having calculated my Vanguard Funds’ cost basis according to my father’s date of death, says I should have to pay zero taxes on the short-term corporate bond fund that was my car-purchase savings while I had a job. He thinks it’s stupid to pay $350 for a new timing belt on an 11-year-old junker (he predicts + + + operating costs). Accountant thinks it’s a toss-up: buy, don’t buy, do what you want…probably doesn’t make much long-term difference.

Hmmm… $58.72 a month = $704.64 a year saved on gasoline.

Cost of new Sonata less trade-in on the junk = around $20,000; 4% of twenty grand (allowable drawdown from invested retirement savings) = $800. Not exactly a toss-up, unless you factor in the $350 for the timing belt plus God only knows how much for other repairs.

Cost of 2011 second-hand Sonata through the credit union’s car-buying service, 22,000 miles: $19,900 – $3,000 = $16,990; 4% of $16,990 = $680. Very probably a positive. It’s not the color I want. It doesn’t have the interior trim I covet. But…there it is.

Still thinking…

Images:

Sinclair Oil advertisement, Menard, Texas.Billy Hathorn. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

Hyundai Sonata. Shamelessly ripped off the Arizona State Credit Union‘s car-buying site. Click on this and a whole bouquet of pop-unders will populate your computer monitor.

Medicare Bills: OMG!

Anybody who thinks Medicare is some sort of a bargain and that all us old folks are sucking off the public teat either doesn’t know what he’s talking about or is just batshit crazy.

Just paid my annual Medigap premium: it rose by $277! That was after the Part D, which covers nothing because I don’t take any meds, went up by $60 a year. Part D is provided by a private insurer, but Medicare recipients are required to subscribe to it on pain of a penalty that amounts to a heavy, recurring fine. Part B also rose this year, but Social Security rises to cover Part B increases even in years when there’s no COLA increase (we’re now in the second year with no Social Security COLA, because after all there’s no inflation. :roll:).

Not anticipating such a large jack-up, I failed to self-escrow enough to cover the increase, so I had to raid my regular savings to pay the bill. Another two months with no clothes! Guess I’ll be wearing black Costco jeans all summer. Damn!

Medicare now costs some 15 times what I was paying for similar coverage at the Great Desert University. And of course it doesn’t cover everything. The Mayo keeps sending me incomprehensible bills, and the various Medicare providers keep sending me incomprehensible statements. Piles of paper are swelling my file folders, and I have no idea what any of it means…it’s just impossible to parse it out.

What this means is that I have no idea what I need to pay my doctors out of pocket. And that means I can’t really ever get out of debt to them, because I don’t know what to pay. Even if I could afford to do so, I can’t pay the full amount of each statement and then pocket the amounts coming in from Medicare/Medigap, because the clinic’s bills don’t reflect all the pending charges; if I spend the Medicare checks on groceries, I won’t have anything to cover the new little surprises that keep coming in the mail.

Complicating matters, Medicare will not pay the Mayo directly, advertisements to the contrary notwithstanding. The Part B coverage is supposed to direct-deposit payments to the Mayo, but for some reason because it’s the Mayo they won’t do that. Hell, no! Instead, they dribble out checks to me by snail-mail, which I have to deposit and then disburse to the Mayo myself.

Needless to say, the potential for snafu is huge. There’s always the chance that some check will be lost in the mail or in the piles of paper in my house—because a blizzard of trash paper is always coming in from these insurance companies, it’s easy to lose an envelope with an actual check in it.

Mercifully, I can now scan checks and deposit them electronically. It’s almost as much of a nuisance as physically driving to the credit union, because my scanner is excruciatingly slow. And of course, it draws so much memory or power or whatever it’s doing, I can’t do anything else on my computer while I’m waiting for it to plod through the process. The CU’s system won’t accept color scans, but my scanner defaults to color. Sometimes even when I set it to scan greyscale, it defaults right back to color. So then I have to do the whole scan over again. One time it took over half an hour just to scan in one check so the system would take it—I could have traipsed to the credit union on the way home from campus in that time!

Dealing with this bureaucratic BS is a difficult nuisance now, while I have most of my marbles. I can’t even begin to imagine how the elderly frail cope with this tsunami of confusing, complicated, demanding crapola. If you don’t have someone in your life to help out with it, you’re SOL. And you can be sure you’re getting ripped off seven ways from Sunday.

There’s just no excuse for America’s healthcare system.

Blackboard: Always Leave ’Em Tearing Their Hair…

Un. Freaking. Believable.

But maybe not. Maybe I should’ve known I wasn’t gonna escape from Blackboard without one final pain in the butt.

One hundred thousand words of student writing was to cross my transom come Tuesday. A few eager beavers turned in their gigantic final papers over the weekend, so on Monday I read the early entrants in the course’s final steeplechase.

Blackboard, the bloatware that passes for the course management software favored by the local community college district, should add up each student’s points and then tell you what percentage of the semester’s total available points these figures represent. In the past, it has done so quietly and efficiently, much speeding the process of posting final grades.

So Monday I enter an A-minus (90 points) for a certain student.

Blackboard awards him a final score of 138.6 percent.

No kidding? This is a B-minus student at best. He’s racked up no extra-credit points, and he has missed 50-point assignments. How could he possibly have accumulated more than the total points available?

Whip out my calculator and discover that he in fact has captured 79 percent of the total available points.

Hm. This would explain why one of our brighter lightbulbs, one who indeed did perform a bunch of extra credit and who turned in his final paper even earlier, managed to rack up a score of 148 percent.

Manually recalculate his grade: 95 percent.

Enter a few theoretical final paper scores in other students’ rows. When we say all our children are above average, we’re not kidding!

Try to figure out what the problem is. I must have made some mistake, but I’ll be damned if I can find it. All the columns’ settings are the same, and as far as I can tell, they’re all correct.

Finally have to concede that the only way to figure their final scores without having to punch every number (that would be hundreds of numbers!) into a calculator is to build an Excel spreadsheet that works and import the data into that. Make it two spreadsheets—one for each of the composition sections.

This was not a difficult job, but it was tedious, made more so by the fact that the array of assignments differed slightly between the two sections, so I had to build two separate spreadsheets. Then I had to send out announcements and e-mails to all students in each section explaining why they couldn’t rely on their Blackboard “My Grades” function, how I would be figuring their grades, how to calculate their own grades. Of course this generated a flurry of e-mails from students in High Obsessive Gear. So I got to kill Monday evening farting around with still MORE unnecessary extra work generated by Blackboard.

This will be the last assignment I ever enter in a Blackboard spreadsheet. Starting with the summer term, my classes are moving over to sites created in WordPress.com. Communication will happen through that site and through G-mail accounts dedicated exclusively to specific courses, so that I don’t have to sift through all the junk mail that comes in from the district and two campuses to find messages from students. Grades will be kept in spreadsheets very like the ones I built Monday night. I may put them up on Google Docs, so I can access them from whatever computer I happen to be using. I’ll give students blank, formatted spreadsheets so they can enter their own grades and view their accumulating points and percentages.

Wouldn’t you know Blackboard would pull this stunt on the way out?

Small Frugalities, Small Chintzinesses?

Chintzinesses? How d’you like that word? I can’t think of a word parallel to “frugality” (n) that means “an act of cheapskatishness.” Nor can I think of a word meaning “the state of being a cheapskate.” Cheapskatitude?

At any rate, our subject is that perennial favorite: When does one cross the line from frugality to chintziness?

This weekend I happened to mention to M’hijito that when La Maya and I were out and about in pursuit of a distant estate sale, we stopped at a Starbucks, where I ordered a café Americano. He allowed as how the only way to get a decent cup of black coffee at that chain is to ask for the café Americano, as their ordinary drip coffee is battery acid, fit for nothing other than as a cheap medium for sugar, artificially flavored syrup, and milk or cream. Café Americano is dilute espresso. The reason it tastes better than Starbucks’s normal drip coffee is that espresso beans are higher quality than the schlock used to make the battery acid.

Then he remarked that he highly resented paying $4.30 for an iced coffee (the price being the same, whether you take your coffee hot or cold).

This remark caused me to reflect that yes, I had paid $4.30 for a medium-sized café Americano. Uhm…yes. Four dollars and thirty cents for a cup of coffee.

I mean, really. Four and a half bucks for 50 cents worth of ingredients and three minutes’ worth of a minimum-wage slave’s time? Does that make sense?

Well, it wasn’t the coffee we were buying so much as the moment to pause and socialize—and to get someone else to provide the social lubricant of a hot, caffeine-laced beverage. Could we have gone to one of our homes and fixed our own coffee, saving about $8 on the $8.60 the two of us spent at Starbucks? Of course. But it wouldn’t have been the same.

As a practical matter, once we got back to our neighborhood, we each would have figured it was time to go on about our daily business, and we probably wouldn’t have taken the time  to fix coffee. Or, if we had, we would have diddled away too much time in one living room or the other, and then we each would have felt put upon by the many tasks that awaited us in our respective days.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m not way too tight about things like this.

Take, for example, the cell phone issue. I’ve resisted getting a cell phone because I think I already spend too much on connectivity—$78 a month to keep my computer online and the landlines running is too darned much for phone service. More to the point, in my mind I can’t afford another $80 to $120 for an electronic tether.

Really?

My gross income, if you include the $1,025/month coming from savings, is $7,000 a year more than my son’s. If, rather than setting aside my entire teaching salary, I self-escrowed only enough to cover my share of the mortgage (and let the future take care of itself, even that means the future surely will include a foreclosure), what remains of my gross would only be about $1,525 less than my son earns.

And he can afford an iPhone. Keeping that thing online costs $120 a month!

So why couldn’t I afford, say, a Droid, at $80/month to Verizon?

Surely I could at least afford an iPad. That costs only $15 or $25 to connect. And despite the fact that the way-cool iPad isn’t designed as a phone, an easily accessible app will give you free phone service through the thing! With that, I could have my cake and eat it, too: get the coveted electronic gadget, use it as a cell, and not even have to cancel the landline.

M’hijito never has paid for a land line. He uses only his cell phone. IMHO, this is something of an inconvenience, because he’s always misplacing the thing and not answering calls when he can’t find the phone.

SDXB recently canceled his land line service. He also is now using a cell only. He claims he doesn’t lose it because he carries it around with him everywhere, and because he has a single place in the house to keep it when he’s not using it.

Right. I had a single place to keep the $725 pair of glasses I just lost.

Still. If I canceled the landline, all that would remain of the Cox bill would be $50 a month for the computer connection (SDXB says he’s only paying $30 a month, presumably because he has a slower service).

My S-corp could pay for the iPad connection to AT&T—it’s only about $25 a month. If I could use that with Google’s Talkatone to make free phone calls, the worry about calling for help when my car craps out on the freeway would go away. And that concern is the only real reason I want a cell phone. If the S-corp were footing the bill for the mobile phone connection, there would really be no reason to cancel the land line, which allows for a telephone in every room in the house—no chasing around every time the phone jangles.

Canceling the landlines and having the S-Corp pay for the iPad would cut my personal nondiscretionary budget by almost $30 a month.

Here’s the question: Am I frugal or am I cheap to keep resisting the mobile phone?

For that matter, is it frugal or is it cheap to consider adapting the reasonably priced iPad (reasonably priced considering what it is!) for use with Google’s free voice app and calling that a “cell phone”?

Is it frugal or is it cheap to consider canceling the land line if I could get the iPad to actually function as a telephone?

Is it frugal or is it cheap to think coffee should be purchased at Starbuck’s only on special occasions—or preferably, not at all?