BG

By all accounts, Brittney Griner is a gentle soul. Quite a feat, considering the challenges being a six-foot nine-inch female who weighs two-hundred five pounds and is openly gay present. (Not to mention that unless your name is Giannis Antetokounmpo or Joel Embiid, she can probably kick your ass to the dark side of the moon in a game of basketball.)

As players in the WNBA often do, she had traveled to Europe to play a second season following her 2021 WNBA Finals appearance with the Phoenix Mercury. It is unknown if she had successfully smuggled cannabis into Russia previously, but this time her attempt was unsuccessful.

I don't pretend to know Russia's drug laws or precisely what is meant by “a small amount” of cannabis, but I'm guessing that even in Vladimir Putin's Russia, this is not the equivalent of a first-degree felony. And yet Griner has been treated nearly like a serial killer.

Detained in February and tried in August, she was sentenced to nine-years in prison. Her legal team filed for an appeal and were denied in October. Now comes word that she has been sent to a penal colony, an extraordinarily harsh punishment in light of her crime.

At first glance, it's hard not to wonder if she is being treated more severely owing to her status as a celebrity. After all, this is Putin-land, where cases like this proceed in whatever fashion will guarantee maximum exposure.

A commonly held belief is that Griner is a political pawn, kept in storage until such a point she can be used as a bargaining chip in the aftermath of the war in Ukraine. And if this is the case, does it make sense to let a valuable prisoner languish in such deprived conditions?

This is supposition, of course. For all I know, Putin lost a butt-load on the Mercury in the 2021 WNBA Finals and this is his preferred manner of extracting revenge. But given the dire reality of Putin's twisted autocracy, the probability remains that this woman has become a pawn in his latest political drama.

All that is left is for the U.S. and Russia to determine her worth before the inevitable negotiations begin.

Another chapter in the book of human cruelty.

Inflation

Two-thirds of the U.S. population is under fifty years-old. Which means that the inflation currently gripping the country is something they have never experienced. Never felt. Never lived through.

For them, it is an especially unnerving thing. At least until Tuesday, when they can vote Democrats out of office. With Democrats gone, inflation will disappear and the economy will magically repair itself.

Right?

As someone who came of age in the inflation-happy seventies and early-eighties, I can and will laugh at them.

Contrary to their politically-motivated feelings, our parties rarely have much to do with inflation. In 2022, the pandemic, the ensuing lockdowns, supply and labor shortages and overwhelming consumer demand have a bit more to do with inflation than whatever Democrat(s) you choose to blame.

Take gasoline. I don't know the person who hasn't carped about fuel prices. But climb into your car and hit the road. Is the amount of traffic not markedly higher than in any of the past five years? I, myself, routinely sit through multiple traffic light cycles where I never did before.

If Americans can't afford gas, we are doing one hell of a job at hiding it.

Fact: inflation is the byproduct of a market where demand outstrips supply. That's why automobile dealerships, despite their often bare lots, are making two to three times the income than they ever have before. That's why the price of gasoline and airline tickets leap like a twenty-four year-old Michael Jordan.

And when the product itself isn't undergoing material or labor shortages, the cost of getting it to market has—as you know—exploded.

So. How do we beat inflation?

I propose a radical idea: consume less.

Don't run to Target for a fresh jar of moisturizer. Don't go to the grocery store for a carton of ice cream or a bag of chips. Consolidate your trips. You'll use less gas, save time and hopefully wean yourself from the illness known as instant gratification.

It is us, you see, who are at the root of inflation. Ask yourself: what are we telling Exxon Mobil and British Petroleum and Royal Dutch Shell when we mindlessly lap up the latest increase they have gifted us with?

We don't care! Price isn't important! Raise it again—we can afford it!

Until supply outstrips demand, companies have no incentive to drop prices. Their purpose is to make as much money as possible, and under current conditions they are doing a fabulous job.

Some have even resorted to price-gouging just because the current climate allows it.

I'll say it again: the more we consume merely because that's how we've always consumed, the more we will pay for our purchases. With the mid-term elections happening tomorrow, it's a great time to ask of ourselves that which polls indicate we most want to ask of our candidates:

Do something about inflation.

We can make it happen. Reigning in our thirst for instant gratification would help.

Kyrie Irving's Entitlement

Dear Kyrie Irving,

Please tell me how you would feel if a prominent white basketball player linked a movie that was hostile to Blacks to his various social media accounts.

My guess is you'd be pounding on Adam Silver's door demanding the player in question be removed from the NBA. You'd be crying to every TV camera in sight about the relentless slandering of Blacks.

Finally, you'd be filling any and all available social media space with accusations that the NBA is a racist enterprise and needs to be held accountable.

But that didn't happen, did it?

You linked a movie damaging to Jews to your accounts and because you are an obnoxiously-paid, high-profile athlete, the rest of us are supposed to either forgive, excuse or (gulp) understand.

Got it. 

That go for Kanye, too?

Sincerely,

La Piazza Gancio

 

I Tried American Express for a Year. Here's What Happened.

In the midst of the COVID-19 lockdown, I was presented with an appealing offer from American Express. Desperate to break the monotony of sheltering in place, I signed up. It was a shiny, new thing. I gave in.

Sadly, that was the peak of my Amex experience.

I should admit I don't lead what would be called an American Express lifestyle. I don't stay in thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suites. I don't wear tailored suits as I jet off to London or Dubai on business. I don't drive a German luxury sedan or an Italian sports car.

An internationally-known chef has never prepared my dinner. 

Am I painting a picture here?

Yes, the card featured free balance transfers and a zero-percent APR for the first year, but as someone who rarely carries a balance this was only a minor perk. The cashback bonuses were nice, but since I didn't use the card that much, they were also negligible.

Following a post-holiday review of my finances, I realized I didn't need another credit card and called American Express to cancel. This was as painless as you'd expect it to be and was confirmed by American Express in a follow-up e-mail:

“Dear La Piazza Gancio,

This message is to confirm that American Express has processed your recent request to cancel the following Card (sic) account(s):

Blue Cash Preferred ending in XXXXXX.

If you have other Card accounts registered for Manage Your Card Account online they will still be available online at americanexpress.com.

Sincerely,

American Express Customer Service”

 

It paralleled the language of the agent who had handled my request over the phone. But as I was soon to learn, American Express and I have very different definitions of 'cancelled'.

Even after cancelling the card I continued to get bills for the $95.00 annual membership fee, which I found quite strange being that I was no longer a cardholder. $95.00 for a card I no longer have? Wow. Seriously?

Assuming it was another error by a short-handed and over-worked staff, I ignored them. I mean, this was as cut-and-dried as consumer stuff gets, right? I had the card and now I don't. Why would I pay a membership fee?

Things were peachy until I was hospitalized in July. During my hospitalization a relative graciously stepped-in to take care of my bills, and when the American Express notice arrived she processed it as if it were a bill for purchases.

Only it wasn't.

I cringed. I immediately called American Express to request a refund.

The agent told me a fanciful story. One that said since the card wasn't cancelled within twenty-eight days of my last purchase, they were within their rights to apply the membership fee. Neither the agent with whom I made the initial request or the follow-up e-mail made any mention of a fee.

Nor did the small print on their monthly statements.

Even more interestingly, the following notation appears on their bills: “We have billed your annual membership fee. However if we do not receive your payment we will need to close your account due to inactivity.”

So. Let's see. I cancelled the card in January and did not pay the membership fee that month. Or in February, March, April, May and June. That's six months. It begs the question when, exactly, is an American Express account rendered inactive?

It's a cash grab—nothing more, nothing less.

I filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau September 7^th. Having heard nothing from either party regarding a resolution, I e-mailed the BBB. I was told American Express had contacted me by mail.

If by that they mean there was written correspondence on American Express' corporate letterhead within an American Express envelope sitting in my mailbox, then no. Nothing.

(I filed a second complaint via the BBB. I'll let you know what happens.)

If you enjoy doing business with corporations who issue shady and nebulous fees without explanation, then please. Apply for an American Express card today. But as gambling sites caution their customers, never bet more than you can afford to lose.

Charging a membership fee for a card that no longer exists is beyond the pale. Furthermore, I don't understand how they are able to. Why isn't this illegal?

Until I find out, do business with American Express with extreme caution. (If you're a football fan, imagine being the quarterback for the Miami Dolphins.) Who knows how many more unspoken fees lurk behind their shiny corporate exterior? 

I'm hoping the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau will be able to tell me.

Mail Box Adventure

I'm a guy who routinely returns his shopping cart to the corral in the grocery store parking lot. I take pains to avoid exposing volatile household cleaners to direct sunlight or extreme temperatures. I unfailingly refrigerate after opening.

And if it even needs to be said, I consistently acknowledge those gracious-enough to allow me into traffic—especially during rush hour.

So how is it a mindful and conscientious soul like myself received the following in his mailbox?

Outwardly, they didn't appear particularly threatening. One envelope contained an invitation to one of those we'll-buy-you-dinner-if-you-listen-to-our-sales-pitch, while the other was a notice from my car manufacturer.

No biggie, right?

And taken separately, I'd agree with you. But together they served to impart nagging doubts about my life and the karma I am putting out there.

The invitation was just that, only there wasn't a free dinner included. But it did extend to me the opportunity to explore questions one should ask before one “needs” to ask them. And by that I mean our (ahem) 'final expenses'.

Having just recovered from a bout with head trauma for which I sacrificed two-thirds of the summer, I wasn't particularly eager to ponder—much less plan—my funeral.

I set it down and opened the envelope from the car-maker.

It was yet-another notice informing me of a recall on my seat belt pretensioners. It (again) explained that if deployed incorrectly, the unit's micro gas generator could explode, exposing all within the passenger compartment to jagged pieces of metal hurtling through the car at skin-piercing velocities.

More importantly, four months after the recall was initially announced, there are still no non-explosive pretensioners available. Just paper reminders of the death trap I must ride in daily. If nothing else, the notice lent an eerie sense of portent to the 'final expenses' invitation.

If my body is to be shredded to the point of cessation by what is reportedly a safety device, does the car manufacture's customer care package at least guarantee a ride to the nearest medical facility, where my death can be properly confirmed and recorded?

And if not, is it the comprehensive customer care package the manufacturer states it is? Can my estate sue for misrepresentation?

And looking to the cause-and-effect side of things, is it possible to draw a line between the organization offering the 'final expenses' presentation and any and all explosions caused by the faulty micro gas generators?

Sigh. Life is complicated.

I sidestep the Q&A and visit an attorney. There, I declare my preferences as to how memorial events following my death should unfold. From there, it's off to a firm specializing in body armor. The head-to-toe protection isn't cheap but, this firm excepted, can you really put a price on human life?

It renders driving very difficult and places an undue burden on my car's air conditioning unit. Owing to the proportions of the head protection, I'm thankful for the sunroof. Ignoring heartless comments about resembling a certain seventies cartoon character, I relish my newfound sense of protection.

And to think some people refer to this as junk mail.

We'll Always Have Paris

Amid a grey and soggy spring featuring two distinctly uninspired Major League Baseball teams, the Chicago Sky began their defense of the franchise's first WNBA championship. But it wasn't as pretty as their eventual league-best won-lost record would indicate.

An opening night defeat to the Los Angeles Sparks bordered on ugly, with repeated turnovers (especially on the offensive end) short-circuiting possessions. The Sky appeared unfocused and distracted. But six games in, the Sky stood at 4 -2.

It continued, with the Sky winning twenty-one of their next twenty-seven games. To that point, they never lost two in a row. Need more? How about their 3-0 record versus the Connecticut Sun, a team that had presented a major hurdle in last year's playoffs.

With just three games left in the season, a pair of sloppy losses to the Seattle Storm and Las Vegas Aces gave the Sky their first two-game losing streak. A lifetime spent as a Cubs fan was not required to wonder if perhaps the Sky might have gotten a bit too comfortable.

Thankfully, they finished the season strong with a decisive win against last year's Finals opponent, the Phoenix Mercury.

Bring on the playoffs!

They started as ignobly as had the regular season. The seventh-seed New York Liberty exploded out of the gate and beat the Sky in Chicago, outscoring them by eight in the fourth quarter. This was not good.

The Sky were able to refocus and take games two and three.

Next up was the Sun. After seven straight losses to the Sky, I don't imagine motivation was an issue in Connecticut. Nor do I imagine a lack of confidence was an issue for the Sky. With home court advantage in the five-game semis, Chicagoans had every right to feel optimistic.

Owing to a brutal third quarter, game one went to the Sun. No big deal. A team that good was bound to win one sooner or later, right? Game two was a reassuring win for the Chicagoans. They were confident and dominated the game.

On Connecticut's floor, the Sky also took game three. I permitted a small smile to manifest itself upon my face—the Sky were back in control.

Game four was a chassis-shaking, tire-shredding disaster. The Sky were never in this one as the Sun took out their long-simmering frustration and punished them over four quarters of a WNBA playoff game.

Ouch.

Would a return to Chicago re-animate the Sky? Or had Big Mo shifted irreparably to the team from the East coast?

Connecticut took the quarter number-one 24-16. Chicago took the second quarter by the same score. They also took the third quarter 18-8. A certain Cubs fan was ready to let go.

But as the hoary old sports cliché goes, the Sky had been here before. They knew what they had to do.

Only they didn't.

They shot 2 for 15, snagged 3 rebounds and dished out 2 assists. They did not visit the free throw line. Not once.

The Sun? They shot 8 for 15, pulled down 14 rebounds and handed out 8 assists. They went 8 for 8 from the free throw line. They outscored the Sky 24-5.

I can't imagine a WNBA title contender ever played a worse quarter of basketball.

Under different circumstances, I would have called Candace Parker's early exit from the court a bad case of over-indulgence. The byproduct of a bloated sense of entitlement. But given the Sky's fourth-quarter meltdown, to come so close only to have it ripped from your hands had to have been excruciating.

And with the expected retirements of Parker, Courtney Vandersloot and Allie Quigley, the look of next year's Sky will be very different. They're still talented. But will they remain legitimate title contenders? Not so sure.

We are often told to appreciate the moment. To be in it. That a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. And sports is pretty good at imparting those lessons. The unexpected run to a title by last year's Sky team was as inspiring and as mind-blowing as it gets.

And I'm happy to say I wallowed in it.

But being in the moment and being vested and engaged ain't so hot when your team crashes. It eventually renders us as Humphrey Bogart in the movie Casablanca, when he ruefully tells Ingrid Bergman “We'll always have Paris.”

So it goes.

Priorities

In my previous post, I pondered the possibility of our relentless tuition hikes somehow ending up in the hands of Alabama football coach Nick Saban. This is what's known as a rhetorical question; a question one poses without really expecting an answer.

So it was interesting that a related story emerged shortly thereafter.

College football fans will recognize the University of Nebraska as a traditional gridiron powerhouse. But the gluttony of twelve-win seasons, high-profile bowl games and season-ending finishes among the collegiate top ten that used to constitute the diet of Cornhusker fans hasn't been a thing since Tom Osborne's retirement following the 1997 season.

Don't get me wrong. There have been plenty of fine seasons in the nearly quarter-century since. But the Nebraska Cornhuskers haven't provoked terror in the hearts of opponents since the Clinton administration. And if that weren't bad enough, the 'Huskers have enjoyed just one winning season in the last seven. Their five-straight losing seasons is something not seen in Lincoln since the late-fifties and early-sixties.

So yes. All things being relative, this is a program in need of a pick-me-up.

And Scott Frost was the coach entrusted to do that. But the thing is, only one Nebraska football coach has a worse won-lost percentage. And a chorus of impatient fans, nervous alumni and (I presume) a toxic media have been begging for his removal. Following a home loss to decided underdog Georgia Southern, this has come to pass.

None of this is much of a surprise, is it? Especially given the elevated expectations Nebraskans have for their football team.

But what is fascinating is that had the University waited until October first, the penalty for the early-termination of Frost would've been cut in half, from fifteen-million dollars to seven and-a-half. But what's $7.5 million-dollars to a humongous university?

A national championship is not at stake. Nor is a season that would find the 'Huskers winning as often as they lost. What's the big rush? 

There isn't one. At least, not one a sentient human being would understand. But I think we have a window into the kind of thing mad tuition money often fuels.

Thankfully, tomorrow's gifted electrical engineer or barrier-breaking medical researcher is being denied access to higher education for a good reason. Ditto a nurse, an urban planner or an accountant. And that reason is the restoration of a football program.

It's the pattern we see in many aspects of life these days. Self-serving ego, shortsightedness and display overriding the more understated virtues of purpose, long-term growth and commitment to the greater good. 

But that's so easy to do when the money you're spending isn't yours, isn't it?