food

WTH? It’s A Scam!

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

The other day, my friend received these four pieces of plastic in the mail. No invoice, nor instructions were included. She and two of her neighbors tried to assemble the contraption and reached this conclusion.

WTH? They were clueless. “Look up the company listed on the return address. It’s Gathers Fottys.“

Hmm. Gathers Fottys or Geathers Fottys, 3646 S Wolcott Ave., Chicago, Illinois, 60609 is a scam.In fact, it is called brushing–short for brushing up. The scammer finds its customers by trolling the Dark Web for addresses, particularly online advertisers on social media, like Facebook and Instagram. Then he/she mails his/her target a cheap, useless what-not. The unsuspecting targets are clueless, unless they notice an unauthorized purchase on their credit card, Pay Pal, or Venmo. When they report this to their creditor, the scammer provides proof of delivery. Or in some cases, simply uses the target’s name to brag about the quality of their products online. The same tactic is used in bait and switch schemes, when one orders an electric scooter for the low price of $99 and receives six battery-operated tea lights instead. The scammer has proof of delivery, and the target has little recourse.

Of course, victims can report these incidents to the Postal Service, to the Better Business Bureau, and to law enforcement, which is informative, but offer little prospect of monetary compensation. Additionally, by Federal law, the victim does NOT have to return any unsolicited item. In fact, victims are advised NOT to return items because the scammer is now assured the address of his target is correct. Talk about a waste of intelligence! These perps who set up elaborate scams could make money if they used their talents in legitimate endeavors.

Now if you receive one of these packages with random crap, I repeat you can kept it, recycle it, regift it, or trash, but check your credit card or other methods of payment. You’re welcome.

Thimblerig, AKA the Shell Game

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

Most of us have this game; sometimes on a street corner, at a bar, or at a party. Using three cups with a coin, a bottle cap, or a pea, the con artist hides the object under a cup and quickly shuffles the three cups around. Your job is to bet which cup covers the object. Of course, the con snatches up your money, as you have chosen the wrong cup. You are mystified by this two-hundred-year-old trick–and out five bucks!

Me? I discovered this week I, too, was a victim several weeks ago at a garden center, where some sick, deranged fool switched the identifying stakes in the tomato plants. I thought I bought “Better Boy” and “Celebrity” tomato plants, but after five straight days of rain and three weeks of desert sun, the vines were a sea of green small balls. Damn! Cherry tomatoes! What good is a bushel of cherry tomatoes? Megamillions of seeds to lodge in my teeth and wreck havoc in my digestive track. I certainly was in no mood to grind them into salsa, nor cook them down and strain all the seeds.

My only choice was to remove the plants, go buy new ones, hope the weather cooperated, and I’d reap a crop. “Do you think it’s too late to plant these?”

“Not sure, ma’am,” said the guy in the garden center. “Depends on the weather.”

Duh. “The only reason I have to is I got snookered by Thimblerig!”

He looked at me quizzically. “Uh, what?”

“Thimblerig. The Shell Game. Someone switched out the stakes in your plants; I thought I was buying big tomatoes, not cherry tomatoes. I’m not wasting my time and my water bill on dumb little cherries.”

“Ha, I hear ya! I got gut problems, too. Let me tell you a story about my friend who bought his kid a pygmy pig and ended up with a 400-pound sow.”

By the end of his story, I was regaled in laughter. Yes, Suzanne, there’s a lot worse things than buying cherry tomato plants.

Don’t Dictate My Diet

/ skidaz / Leave a comment

On my return flight to Phoenix last week, I had a first class seat. Since it was an early flight, allegedly breakfast would be served. What I was handed was a cardboard box labeled: All Day Vegetarian Meal. When I opened the box, I was stunned.

Four grapes and two blueberries in a cup. A sliver of cheese, two crackers, a slice of Lemon Chia bread, a Chia energy bar, and Chia trail mix. (WTH is Chia anyway, and why is it good for me?) Since when did Americans become a nation of vegetarians? Of course, this event sent me on a search, and what I discovered is approximately 4% of Americans are vegetarians. The math is easy–96% of us eat some kind of meat.

I’ve a young friend who is so committed to her vegetarianism she won’t eat cheese if there’s also meat products on the charcuterie board. Another friend is overtly large, but a vegan. How is that possible? I’d starve to death! Now, I certainly don’t choose my friends based on their dietary habits. They can pick and choose what they eat when they’re at my house.

But the numbers speak for themselves. Why does the airline cater to 4% of the population? Why not, at least, provide a Slim Jim for the rest of us?