Scraps

The "New Car" Scam

I write this a day before GM is expected to file for bankruptcy. This is not a good thing. Our economy will suffer, and unemployment will rise. Lots of finger-pointing and moaning in the media. One likely result being talked about is whether Americans will buy new cars as often as they have. Will the "new economy" support that habit, or kill it.

I say, if it dies, good riddance. It was built on a lie anyway. Somehow, it became a necessary part of "the American Dream" for people to trade in the car they bought just two or three years ago in order to have the thrill of having a fresh one, right off the line. And of course, the used model would be sold to those "second tier" consumers who couldn't afford a new car.

What was really driving this practice? The first owner was probably getting good service out of his car. Why shell out so many bucks for a new one? How much better was it going to be?

Somehow, one of the triumphs of Madison Avenue was that it could get so many "first tier" consumers to believe that continuing to drive their two or three year old car was a diminution of their lifestyle, but get multitudes of other people to think those same cars were a big improvement on theirs.

Username

What's the deal with usernames? I can understand why it's used in social websites like Facebook, but why require it for security purposes? I'm sure we've all had to request the password when going back to a website you haven't been to for a while, but I've also been asked to give my username. That means two annoying functions when only one should be necessary. If a site knows my email address, it should just request the password.

First Couple's Big Night

Oh, what a big story! Our president and his wife came to New York for a Broadway show and dinner out. Media saturation! Look how he keeps his campaign promise to Michelle. A sweet, sweet story.

Today is Sunday. So far, I haven't heard a peep out of the other side. How long do you think that's going to last? You wanna bet tomorrow, the latest, we get a computation - to the penny! - of how much it cost the taxpayers.

You can count on it.

Deadbeat Surcharge

Surcharge? Of what, you ask. I'll explain later, but first I want to introduce my friend, Mike Sucker. He told me this story and asked what I thought. I've asked him to tell it to you too.

"Hi, my name is Mike Sucker, but my friends call me Suck. About once a month, I like to treat myself to a nice, dry martini. I like a well-appointed bar for this, kinda place with no TV, relaxing music and sleek women to look at. My favorite has a friendly bartender named Stanton."

"So I get my usual the other day and, ahhh, it satisfies. Stanton knows, and he smiles in appreciation. Everything's hunky until I get the bill, and I see an extra two dollars for my libation. I ask Stanton if it's a mistake."

'No, Suck. It's just we've got a surcharge now.'

'Surcharge?'

'You see that guy over at the end of the bar?'

'Him?' I point to a man in a dark suit.

'No, behind him. Guy with the earring.'

'Yeah. What about him?'

'He can't pay today. Means we've got to surcharge the regulars.'

'Me? But I'm always good up front. I never leave with an open tab.

'Exactly. Who better to bleed?'

I register dismay. Stanton shrugs.

'Hey, c'mon, Suck. Our relationship should be worth something, right?'

So I pay up, we fist bump and I leave."

I hope you found Suck's tale as edifying as I did. We've known each other a long time, and he unburdened his dilemma to me. Did I think what Stanton did was right? It didn't seem fair somehow. But he really likes going to that bar. He wanted to know how to express his doubts about the new policy without offending Stanton.

I gave Suck my answer slowly, in measured cadence but in language I need not repeat here. In effect, I told him that I would never go back to that bar again.

What a coincidence, then, that the very next day, I read an article in the N.Y. Times (5/19/09) about how credit card companies intend to deal with the new regulatory environment in the industry. In fact, the new rules became law later this week. An industry spokesman quoted in the article said that it will be a different business in that those who manage their credit well will subsidize those with credit problems. Another commentator, a publisher this time, is quoted as saying that the dependable payment customers - and we know who we are - have been enjoying a "free ride" because we don't pay annual fees and we collect points for new purchases. He said that I - and the others like me - make out "like a bandit."

The article went on to explain that the "deadbeats" in the industry are not the ones whose debts keep piling up every month but, instead, are you and I, and the other 50 million creditworthy cardholders, who don't generate fee revenues because we - for shame! - pay on time.

It seems that "deadbeats" like us will now be surcharged for this. This might take the form of higher base interest rates, shorter grace periods and other "hidden" fees.

They'd better hide them well. I intend from now on to scrutinize my credit bills like they're Nancy Pelosi's subcommittee notes. And if I find a surcharge that is meant to offset the loss of revenue resulting from new government protection for the credit "unworthy" - yes, those whom we used to call "deadbeats" - then I'll find a company without those fees, and if I can't, then I'll pay in cash. I did that last week in a restaurant for the first time in years, and I survived.

And then, I'll take Mike Sucker out for a martini at a nice tavern I know, where they only charge you for your own drinks but still know how to make a decent profit in America.

Bravo Lucas and Dukakis!

Craig Lucas' The Singing Forest has been lambasted by a number of critics, and for some good reasons. It is overlong, confusing and dramatically unresolved. But with all that, the critics are wrong. This is exciting, original and propulsive theatre. The program notes said that Lucas has been working on the play for nearly a decade. I hope that he won't stop now because it is a potential masterwork.

Just when you thought there was nothing new anyone could say about the Holocaust, Lucas shows us that we haven't been looking in the right places. Describing the plot - which is of breathtaking scope - would be foolhardy, and could never convey the dazzling brilliance of the writing. Suffice to say that the play starts with the interplay of a few minor characters, and eventually leads to the repressed guilt of an old woman, a retired therapist who is a Holocaust survivor, and the secrets behind the birth of her twin son and daughter, from whom she is now estranged. The son, also a therapist, is homosexual and is facing a professional crisis that could lead to the loss of his license. The daughter, a woman who is in an almost constant state of hysteria, has a teenage son who is an emotional cripple, and barely functions. For reasons of dizzying complexity, numerous characters keep stealing each other's identities until the entire cast, most of whom play dual roles, converge on the woman's home in Staten Island, and the horrible secrets of the past are finally exposed.

What keeps us holding on to this "runaway horses" plot is the speed, wit and tantalizing nuance with which Lucas reveals new facets of these characters' lives. The shifts in tone are masterfully orchestrated, but the ultimite effect is of witnessing the implosion of a huge, multi-generational structure of lies collapsing into rubble. The play ends on a note of hope, and possible forgiveness and reconciliation.

Unfortunately, that note is sour, and sounds nothing like a dramatically satisfying conclusion. While it is always wonderful to hear Mahler, playing his music at the final curtain doesn't solve the play's problems. There just may be too many characters screaming at each other in that house in Staten Island, and the subplot involving the son's devious efforts to get another therapist to sleep with one of his patients - and I'm not sure I've got that right - is too convoluted for me. Also, a few of the scenes are too long or even superfluous.

And yet, the dramatic truth of the story emerges in the play's devastating flashback scenes in the last act, in which the theme of redemption is finally stated outright. Taking us to that point would not have been possible without the amazing Olympia Dukakis, who lends a tragic dimension to the old woman. The awful weight of her guilt is always present, even when she is telling lies to a stranger on a sex hotline. The character is required to shift in an instant from feeble exhaustion to vicious sarcasm to roaring vengeance, and she is commanding at every moment. And yet, with all this Freudian melodrama - did I mention that Freud himself has a speaking role? - she still gets all of her laughs on cue.

Some of those laughs are big, too. This is a funny, funny play about ideas that are not. We are never told what we are supposed to feel, and I know that makes some audiences uncomfortable. As for me, that's what I go to the theatre for. I hope to see this imperfect play again - it is closing this week - in a new production, but with Dukakis again in the lead.

A final note: this a time when a number of people are advocating the criminal prosecution of both the defenders and practitioners of torture in the Bush administration. But I don't think anyone makes the case as strongly as this play, which never even mentions the subject. We may argue the political and legal questions, but Craig Lucas reminds us here that the need for justice is basically a human one, and that its pursuit does not stop just because the case is officially closed. Under extreme circumstances, we are all capable of shameful acts. But does exoneration by the rest of the world really stop the process? Somehow our own unresolved guilt will inevitably poison our relationships with those we love, even to the point of ruining their lives. The truth may be ugly, he says, but never forget the costs of burying it.