Previous installments of the Yesterday’s Salad Index: 0

Percentage of hits due to ibiteyoureyes’ posts about foot fetishists on Craigslist: %15

Average hits due to ibiteyoureyes’ “hottest cartoon redheads” post: 80

Average of these hits due to searches for “Jessica Rabbit”: 79

Comments asking for the return of L. P. Mandrake: 7

Typos featured in an average Yesterday’s Salad post: 4

Typos featured in an average L.P. Mandrake post: 0.2

Combined years of Yesterday’s Salad graduate school attendance: 6

Total letters contained in said graduate degrees: 11

Letters belonging to Rabbi Haverstam: 6

Barenaked Ladies albums listened to while composing last NWB post: 3

Years since listening to Barenaked Ladies was socially acceptable in the United States: 10

Diatribes written by the Ciceronian: 3

References to Cicero contained in the Ciceronian’s last posting: 67

Cumulative references to Catullus contained in the Ciceronian’s postings: 2

Unedited manuscripts written by Dash: 2

Total references to Portal in NWB postings thus far: 7

Letters of hate mail received after Yahtzee retrospective: 7

Letters of hate mail with correct punctuation, spelling, or coherence: 2

This is the story of how one poor man (me) was electronically stolen from, and then verified, transferred, and “yes sir”ed by his bank to the point where he was forced to question his own humanity.

Last week, I received my first paycheck for the month of December. A day after that, my health insurance payment (paid for entirely by myself) hit my account, and then half of my paycheck was gone. I had just enough money left to get me through the week without feeling like I couldn’t buy at least one sandwich or Mac-Donald’s value meal – or maybe that two dog and small ice-with-a-little-drink special at Gray’s Papaya – during the week, in addition to making a small contribution towards those monthly expenses necessary to life (rent, groceries and television). Then another day passed. At the end of this day, a visit to my online banking center showed me that this “just enough” amount of money had become a “negative number written in a red font because it’s not a real” amount of money. A Chinese thief had charged the entire amount left in my account (plus a little bit more!) to my check card.

Probably, plus another clause, the thief was not even Chinese. The charge was made to the PayPal account of a Chinese man, but I’m decently sure that the thief is really some pimply-faced, nerdy white kid from the suburbs who when I find him will have brittle bones and will not know karate. As of now, I haven’t found him, because I never will, because the beauty of the internet is also the beauty of internet crime: identity and location are mostly relative. As far as I will ever probably know, the thief is who he appears to be, a Chinese man with a PayPal account.

Needless to say, I called my Bank (of America!) immediately upon noticing the charge. Here’s how my customer service experience went down:

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NOTE: This is a blog post dedicated to ridiculing Heroes, particularly Season 2 of Heroes. If this sounds despicable to you, don’t read this blog post. If it seems despicable to you and you’re going to read it anyway, please note that there are a few mistakes in the post – something that the author has admitted in the comments section. If you came here looking for information on Season 3 of Heroes, it’s not here, and it never will be. When someone says that they are going to fix something that doesn’t yet exist – with a gun – it’s usually safe to assume that that person is joking in some way, shape, or form.

* * *

For a few episodes, it seemed as if Heroes might rescue itself from the slow stupid suckage that has been its second season. This past week’s episode, however, plus another clause, was probably the single worst of Heroes’s’s’s short history. Probably, this is because it dealt not with a handful of worsening characters with worsening storylines, but two handfuls of worsening characters with worsening storylines.

Moreover, the show creators have not followed the advice that I offered in this post. A-hem:

  1. Ali Larter is not dead. Kill her. I don’t like her. I’m not sure anyone else does either.
  2. Hiro might as well still be stuck in ancient Japan, for all you are doing with him.
  3. Peter Petrelli is back, thank you for that. But instead of kicking ass, he is just turning into a dummy.
  4. Sylar is back to being a baddie, but instead of rediscovering his power, he has discovered how to be Darth Sidius.

In regards to number three on that list, let me just say that Peter is not the only character getting dumber by the episode. Everyone is getting dumber, if not in what they say and do then in what THEY DO NOT DO WITH THEIR SUPERPOWERS!

Case(s of beer) in point:

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Ibiteyoureyes was sitting on the outdoor patio of a beach-side restaurant with a bikinied shepicksyournose. We were sipping on some Dos Equis. That’s Spanish for almost pornography. The beer and bikini, both, were good.

Then, from the table behind us, a shrieking child. Let it be known that shrieking children do not often annoy me, especially in public places, especially outdoors. I can forgive them for simply being children. But whining beyatch children…Ibitetheireyes.

“Gimme my camera!” he shrieked at someone. “Gimme my camera! Gimme my camera!” Later he made a noise like a comic book superheroine in explosive pain: “Aiieeiiiiiiiiii!” I missed what happened in between those two things, because I was busy stuffing napkins into my bleeding ears (and busy admiring the print of that bikini). Probably the little hooligan had received a light smack.

Fast forward only a few minutes later. The mother of said shrieking child was sending him away to play on the beach and/or to drown. But before he left…

“Gimme my camera! Gimme my camera! Gimme my camera!”

This was actually the mother, shrieking also, and setting a bright, shiny good example for her child.

I bite her camera, I bite her parenting, and I bite the harsh reality of that little boy’s future.