Quick Hits – July 16, 2024

You might want to avoid Fifth Third Bank!

Per last week’s teasing allusion, following in Wells Fargo’s “If you can’t cheat your customers then who can you cheat?” footsteps, our very local Fifth Third Bank managed to land themselves on the CNN homepage naughty list. That’s no small feat!

The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau said the Cincinnati based bank agreed to fork over $20 million in penalties for their unrepentantly fraudulent vehicle insurance practices tied to the bank’s penchant for creating fake customer accounts. Before they were caught red handed, the bank had illegally charged more than 35,000 customers for unnecessary and redundant coverage.

Per the CFPB:

Fifth Third Bank demanded borrowers pay for coverage they did not need or else face delinquency, additional fees and repossessions. Then Fifth Third Bank conducted repossessions of vehicles when the delinquency was caused by the bank charging unnecessary and duplicative coverage.

The CFPB added that it also filed a proposed court order requiring the bank to pay an additional $15 million in penalties for incentivizing employees to create artificial customer accounts. The order would also prohibit Fifth Third “from setting employee sales goals that incentivize fraudulently opening accounts.”

It’s a far cry from the $3.7 billion Wells Fargo was forced to pay to settle their fake account scandal, but given Fifth Third’s “we’re a community bank” claim, I think they’re even worse. More than 1,000 vehicles were repossessed based on the bogus insurance fees alone.

And $20 million? For a company worth $26 billion it doesn’t even rise to the level of a slap on the wrist. As soon as they’re convinced no one’s looking, they’ll reoffend just as swiftly as Wells Fargo did.

But the worst part of this sad scenario is, neither the Daily Herald nor the Kane County Chronicle reported on this blatant malfeasance. Why? Because Fifth-Third advertises in their newspapers. You have to love that level of hypocrisy, don’t you?

And disappointment abounds.

The Kane County Board is right!

Prior to the emergence of Agent Orange, any government body that had the temerity to as much as consider limiting public comment would’ve drawn The First Ward’s wrath. But I’ve gotten so sick of MAGA morons needlessly co-opting public meetings that I actually applauded the Kane County Board’s attempt to streamline the commentary process.

Instead of a 30-minute, five minutes per speaker, segment on current agenda items, followed by another 15-minute, three minutes per speaker, segment on non-agenda items, the board wanted to combine both into one 30-minue, 3 minute per speaker session.

But sadly, this more than reasonable initiative failed after ten people showed up to speak out against the speaking out limitation. Constituent Aaron White asked the board, “What would compel the board here to offer a proposal where we don’t want to hear from our citizens? The people elect officials, and officials are accountable to the people.”

Sorry Aaron, but nobody wants to hear from you or your fellow citizen ilk until you’ve mastered the art of stringing two sentences together and making a cogent point in public.

Years ago, I would have agreed with Mr. White, but with the Campton Hills Worriers and the Three-headed Beagle Alliance regularly hijacking meetings just to make asinine comments over long resolved issues, it’s time to say “basta!” We elected those board members to serve us, not to be held hostage by lunatics who insist on making the same stupid nonpoint over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

The truth is, those board members are FAR more likely to positively respond to a well-stated and BRIEF email, as opposed to a group of self-serving nitwits trying to top each other in the oratory regard.

And yes! This comes from the very same journalist who excoriated certain McConnaughay era board members for laughing and joking during public commentary. But those early 2000’s speakers were far more respectful, informed, and they rarely resorted to propaganda and proselytizing to make their point.

But now I’m fine with the board completely tuning out the same ad nauseum stupidity. So, keep on speaking Campton Hills Terriers and Three-Headed Sheeples! Because all it does is remove all doubt and get you absolutely nowhere.

And the French have the nerve to say Americans suck?

My loyal readers know the best part of July – bar none – is getting up early to watch the Tour de France every morning. Not only are these grand road bike races a true test of human endurance, but Phil Liggett and Bob Roll are the best sportscasters in the business. They somehow manage to make a typically boring bike race stage seem quite captivating.

Once you’ve watched an entire Tour, you can only laugh at any portly Yankees outfielder who bitches about having to stand around watching the birds fly over the stadium for nine inning games. Even the fittest Major Leaguer wouldn’t make it through a single stage, much less the 21 required to finish the race

Though I’m not nearly fascinated by this phenomenon, to many fans, the most endearing facet of the sport is the lack of any barrier between the riders and spectators for the majority of the 120-mile-ish stages. That’s where, despite their proclamations to the contrary, the French go out of their way to prove they’re no better than your average redneck cousin-marrying American. And it gets worse every year.

As a Nederlander friend once described to me, “The fans head out early to get a prime spot alongside a mountain stage road. Then they drink for hours in the hot sun while waiting for the riders to arrive. By the time they do, those spectators are drunk off their asses.”

Last year an idiote Frenchwoman caused a massive peloton pileup by unfurling a cardboard banner acknowledging her grandparents. Considering a rider traveling at 30 mph could’ve died in that crash, the subsequent 1,200 euro fine wasn’t nearly enough.

Before the race even started in Florence, Italy, rider Jan Hirt was knocked off his bike by a backpack toting fan who inexplicably jumped a barrier as the group of riders moved towards the starting line. He lost three teeth in the “accident.”

Then it was a selfie-taking spectator, who thankfully got the worst of it, as the riders passed. The racer hit him in the arm and upper shoulder which really had to smart, but probably taught him nothing.

They set off smoke bombs on those perilously thin mountain roads obscuring riders’ visibility, and when they’re not doing that, they’re unfurling huge flags across those same narrow roads in another effort to cause another crash. Let’s not forget the sots who “race” the riders on foot up the mountainsides, screaming at the top of their lungs. That absurd display hasn’t caused an accident yet, but we both know it’s only a matter of time.

All this bullshit finally culminated in a “fan” throwing half a bag of chips at race leader Tadej Pogačar, saving the second half for second place rider Jonas Vingegaard. When the gendarmes caught up with him he was so drunk he couldn’t be questioned.

All that bullshit does is detract from an otherwise majestic sporting event and make the French look even worse than they already do. I didn’t think that was possible.

You’re so vain, you probably think this song…

Alright adoring throng! I need a ruling. Is this a case of “I’m so vain, I probably think this song is about me,” or is it reasonable to get a bit peeved at an old folks’ home that’s “recruiting” me with a terrifying alacrity?

To wit, I thought I was out of the woods after the great Medicare mailing deluge of early 2023. Like I didn’t know I was turning 65. But with that assault out of the way, now I’m being stalked by mail by Greenfields of Geneva, which for reference purposes, is neither in a green field, nor is it in Geneva.

Whoever their architect was clearly had too much to drink when he designed the absurd outside of the building.

It would seem those fine Greenfield folks firmly believe I’m on my last legs – literally – and I would greatly benefit from the glory of senior living. They even offered valet parking to attend their latest marketing event, clearly implying I can no longer walk the 40 yards from the parking lot to the dining hall.

Considering past history, if they were talking about 24/7 adult supervision, there might be some merit to their persistent attack, but I’m not ready for the walker and Depends quite yet. So, finally fed up with their insipid invitations, I called Greenfields today to – politely – ask to be taken off their mailing list. The nice lady swore she’d do just that.

C’mon! At 65 I can still do a 13 second 100-meter dash, outrunning the little shits in my neighborhood when they displeased me. On any given day, I can still head out and put in 30 to 50 miles on the road bike at 20 mph. And contrary to what my Republican readers say, unlike them, I haven’t lost a step in the brain regard, either.

Most of our errant mailers go directly into the recycling bag, but there’s something about this one that really frosts my flakes. So, is it vanity at work here, is it my penchant for aggravation, or is it reasonable to rebuke an overzealous old folks home?

When considering your response, please also consider that I can write about you and your family in my very next column. With that in mind, I can’t wait to hear your thoughts.