Friday Fumings... #I

pO157.

Posted to Diary on Fri Sep 05, 2008 at 07:23:28 AM EST. RSS.

During my undergraduate experience I went with the University Chaplain, some medical personnel and the Holy Spirit to an unnamed 3rd World Presidential Republic. We did good work, delivering medical supplies, food, clothing and the Power of Christ to orphanages and hospitals that the evils of socialism, government interference and corruption had left behind in the dark ages. I returned home forever changed by these experiences.

That year I was embroiled in a few minor disputes with my University. None were of my making, nor were they too terrible. However it illustrated the striking lack of caring numerous members of the administration had for its "customers." I was saddened when this was contrasted with the excessive attention given to wealthy alumni. Sickeningly, the attention appeared to increase exponentially as the age of the potential donor increased to the point where folks on their 50th, 60th and 70th reunions were receiving hospitality probably just shy of oral copulation, along with instructions on how to remember the university in your will.

After hearing from a history major friend of mine about some dubious shenanigans the university had engaged in over its past* we decided to take decisive non-specific action. After brainstorming at a local bar that extended its hospitality in $9 pitchers of shots and sobering up at a local truck stop we came up with a plan: We weren't going to donate any money as alumni.

I, as usual, decided to go way over the top. I was going to be one of those alumni who drops completely off the radar, so they wouldn't get my address and send me that crappy junk mail. Plus it would cut down on paper waste, which was nice.

It worked for years. The university skip tracers sent mail to my parents and called them, looking for me. This was most humorous when my mom gave them my old cell phone number in the Gem State just after I had moved out, which apparently lead them to call some red neck 3 time zones into the Wrong Time. Repeatedly. This was kind of funny because my parents got a terse letter from the alma mater, addressed to me, saying they didn't need my verbal abuse and saying if I didn't want anymore contact all I had to do was ask. I kind of want to call whoever has my old number and ask what exactly he said, but I won't.

So it kind of went on like that for a while, until I saw an appeal from the old chaplain asking for money to help out the orphanage over in the 3rd world country. Apparently the bank was going to repossess it without a big mortgage payment or something. Actually in this case it would be more likely that some dude in a khaki shirt with slick hair wanted a bribe or else he would 'nationalize' the place. So, I donated money since I noticed the chaplains note that the funds would not go to the university and they had no part in that fundraising activity.

Well time went on. I donated more money. This year I got another note from the chaplain asking for some more funds. I gladly opened up my checkbook and sent some cash along, trusting in the postal service and attached forever stamp to help get it to the needy orphanage.

Then it happened. I opened my mailbox and noted a magazine with some guys magic hair capped face festooned across it. The glitzy, glossy, garrulous publication breathlessly extolled the virtues of a strikingly familiar college.

Shit. They'd found me. Apparently this past year the checks went through the university business office and they copied my address off it and added it to their distribution list. So now I'm getting "Thank You" cards from various vapid undergrads whose college educations I am now, apparently, funding.

So the moral of the story is, beware helping out the poor or third world impoverished children. You never know what collection agency (or worse, university development office) will assume you are flush with cash and try to pester you. Or in this case divert the money to send out vapid mass produced thank you cards from annoying undergrads. And then mail you magazines.

Related Ranting: Last night as I was returning from the supermarket after cashing in my $3.55 in used bottles I was almost involved in a traffic altercation. As you may or may not be aware I live next to the street with the second highest prostitution activity in the city. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I mean, I don't partake in that, and never will, but if somebody wants to exchange some money or pharmaceuticals for rental access to somebody's lovely lady lumps then who am I to judge? Unless I get put on a jury or elected to be town justice or something. But I digress. Anywho, the jackass ahead of me saw a "Street Entertainer" that apparently he wanted to "Take Home for Coffee," so he decided to immediately slam on his brakes and open the passenger side door so the chick could jump in. In the fast lane. Luckily I was adhering to my strict policy of following at least four seconds behind so we were cool. Jackass. Would it seriously kill some people to pull over to the rightmost lane (after properly signaling) and slow down 50-100ft in front of the hooker in question so as not to endanger everybody else? Just wondering.

Thank you for your time.

*I have to be honest. The stories weren't all bad. Supposedly my alma mater had been victimized by Frank William Abagnale, Jr. That was pretty funny.