Things That Are Not A Hat

I came across of copy of Jon Klassen's children's book This Is Not My Hat a few days ago, which resulted in the creation of the following list.

Things That Are Not A Hat: 

A Fish

A fish would make a terrible hat, all flopping around, it would never stay still on your head long enough to be of any value as a headpiece.

Trees

Trees are immobile, heavy and cumbersome, and just downright hard and pointy. They would not be comfortable to wear on your head for any length of time, though they are especially good at keeping what is beneath them dry.

The War of 1812

While many cunning hats were obviously worn, a 32 month international conflict is not a hat. Moreover, a prominent American event in the War was the burning of the President's House in Washington, D.C., resulting in its rebuilding and renaming with a fresh coat of paint as the "White" House. Though pivotal, fire is generally not suitable head attire.

A Multi-National Bank

All the worst things about trees, and it's got ties to organized crime. And not the way fedoras did while still looking cool. No, this is Law & Order crime, not Tommy gun crime.

Socks

Very close. So very close. But it is hard to get socks to fit over your head securely, and in most cases where you do, they'll lose the stretch in their elastic rather quickly.

The 1974 Dallas Cowboys

This is a sports team. Was a sports team. It isn't even a team anymore. I mean the team is, but this team isn't. The point is they are not a hat, which was as true then as it is today. Though Roger Staubach could probably be a hat if he wanted to.

I Love My Bank

Like those few ads for I Don't Know Which Bank, But It Isn't Mine, I'm starting to actually love my bank.

Mostly, because they seem to think I'm a really interesting person. I went down today to conduct some "biniss" and the whole time I'm the only person in the lobby. The teller starts making smalltalk about the hot weather, and suddenly I'm having a discussion with the other teller and their supervisor about barometric pressure, migraines, epilepsy, self-medication, and Super Mario Galaxy.

So yeah, I like my bank because they give me a $7,000 credit limit without a job and the love Super Mario Galaxy. What's your bank done for you lately?

On Banks II

Still not about Elizabeth Banks. Sorry.

*A thematic sequel to "On Banks."*


My credit card number got stolen recently. I might have mentioned this.

Only two charges were made, even then only for $11.08 total and one do a shady LLC didn't even get processed because I canceled the card and changed my pin fast enough. How fast? The charges were made as I was balancing my checkbook online at 3:30 a.m.

I almost think it was all stolen by a friend or something, because the one charge that did go through was for an eco-friendly light bulb that was going to be shipped to me house. If not a joke, this was the worst credit fraud ever.


Anyway, I decided it was high time I jump ship on this old account anyway. There are no local branches, no ATMs and I'm getting tired of their crappy online policies. I went down to the Chase Bank in my local supermarket and opened up a checking account that actually has fraud protection where I say, "Stop this from happening," and their response is, "Okay," not, "We can't until it's already happened."

And do you know what they did for me? They told me the wrong way to make out my initial deposit, so they just let me have all that money early. Then they tried to get me to sign up for a credit card. I told them I'm a horrible credit risk with zero taxable income. They laughed. They put through my checking account and then decided that was enough to qualify me for every card they have. With low rates. And bonus points. And extra points. For no yearly. You know those commercials in black-and-white with the guy from the dog food commercials and the woman from Pam Anderson's old show V.I.P.? Of course you do. Well I have that card now. With a ridiculous limit. It's insane. I can literally charge something like seven times my actual net worth. I don't know what they smoke down at Chase, but whatever it is I hope they're dealing too because they would make a fortune.

I tried to close down the old evil bank for good the other day. You know what they said? A transaction I made Friday afternoon had yet to be processed by Monday afternoon. A full business day and you haven't approved $45? Really? Maybe if you stayed open past 3 p.m. you could get some shit done.

Speaking of shit, the closest branch I was able to go to (well, the closest branch I could go to without getting shot for driving through the area)? Massive shithole. The building is grubby. It's not even a bank. There's a bank across the street. There's an other Chase right next door. This bank? No, it's a shopfront in a mini-mall. It has some chairs and a couple lamps, with some bad paintings of sailboats on the wall next to large framed ads. There are to little kiosks. No bulletproof glass, no locked doors, just a fat, middle-aged white woman and a chubby, slightly younger Indian woman. They sit around in shabby store that looks like it was decorated in early-smoking-lounge chique and tell me I can't take my money away from their shit security because they haven't finished playing with some of it just yet.

I swear this bank would be better run by a couple of kindergartners and a Fisher Price cash register.

On Banks

Let me preface what I'm about to say with something else that I'm about to say:

I do not partake of illegal substances.

Now I fully support everyone's right to do whatever they want responsibly, I just don't do certain things because I think my mental state is suitably askew already.

That said, I know a drug dealer who closes up shop at 9 p.m.


Think about that. He sells drugs and he keeps normal business hours. Costco is open later than this guy. "Hey, what time is it?" "It's like 9:55, dude." "EFFFFFFF MEEEEEEE…."

Really? You're really going to stop selling drugs just because it's getting late and you want to go out with your friends? Or sleep? Dude. Those are prime drug trafficking hours.

Kid doesn't even start his day until two, anyway. What kind of respectable drug dealer is gonna stay open exclusively from two to ten? You really want to keep to an eight-hour day that badly? You're like my fucking bank.

I hate banks.

They're only open weekdays in the middle of the day. Everyone else is at work. How the fuck am I supposed to get my money into you if you close in the middle of the fucking day? Seriously.

I mean, yes, I understand that you don't make anything from my money, but from taking that money and–essentially–playing the stock market with it, but man … you could at least do me the courtesy of pretending like my business affects your business hours in the slightest.

Man, help me out, banks. I got drugs to buy and my guy closes at ten.