Because Capitalism demands the creation of inefficient middle-man companies that thrive by charging “convenience” fees for services you never wanted in the first place because the old and preferable method worked just fine, and was ultimately cheaper. The “market” hasn’t spoken, it has been manipulated to the adjust the benefits to accrue in the direction of capital. Consumer choice is simply an ideological canard.
For-Profit Prison Bankers Prey On Inmates’ Families With Exorbitant Fees
Today was a rather nice day, after having spent most of the morning attending to some lawns that needed mowing. Took the dog out to the park, where we traversed a nice trail with some creeks for Marty to pitter around in. We also went over to the dog park where he did his usually being chased around by dogs before his diffidence kicked in and he went off to do his own thing. Though, I’ve come to the conclusion he doesn’t like water he can’t stand in.
That said, with the GRE over and the only real pressing matters at hand being applications to fill out, I’ve come to a point in this interregnum where I actually feel a sense of contentment, that things are actually headed in a positive direction. Alternatively, instead of dwindling stress, it could be that the past two weeks have been filled with a panoply of journeys into the wilderness with the trail dog at my side—Marty being almost easier to take on a hike when he’s off the leash. Either way, there’s something relaxing and enjoyable of air that lacks a noticeable temperature while listening to leaves rustle through one another as they tumble their way to the earth while a creek babbles gently nearby. Then there’s horse poop to avoid, but one must make small allowances.
After years of abject misery, of one chance after another passing by, and a cavalcade of rejection from even the ability to sustain oneself independently, it’s a bit weird to feel a feeling akin to happiness.
Certainly a boy of his age ought to go to the dance, Mrs. Talloway argued. He should start living up to his age, not his size she suggested to her husband, who for his part, would have liked to see his boy navigate his way into manhood with some success, but had his doubts that prodding and shoving him along would do much more than hinder the child.
Carlo Talloway was, except in one respect, much like any other child his age. He had a precocious intellect, a decent amount of looks about him, and a love for the sports. However, the defining quality for poor Carlo was his height. He lacked it, not in the sense of a medical anomaly, but rather he was simply short and a bit on the gangly side. For that reason alone, he’d never done up well with the other boys his age, who in their own love of sport, shunned him. To his dismay, Carlo found the boys’ success on the field translated to success with the other girls in his class. That he should be wrong about this point would elude him for some many years to come.