September 05, 2010
Iwas thinking, which I usually do when I have nothing better to do, and I was wondering about credit card fraud.
Years ago, the family’s credit card number was stolen online through software that downloaded keylogger software onto the computer. The usual non-hilarity ensued: $8,000 charged through the card (including several thousand-dollar charges to something called “Indonesia Airlines”), the password on my Earthlink e-mail account changed and blocked. The guy even had the audacity to send himself eight British pounds to himself, reasonable secure in the knowledge that I won’t spend several hundred dollars to fly over and punch him in the face.
I was fortunate that my thieves weren’t malicious, just greedy. The account was cancelled. I filed the paperwork to keep from paying the charges to “Indonesia Airlines.” I installed better security software.
But it still irked me that the credit card companies don’t seem to worry about the millions of dollars siphoned off this way, and the public’s generally low opinion of them. To them, it’s “just a part of doing business,” and if the customer takes it in the shorts, well, as someone once said:
So, here’s my modest proposal to the credit card companies: allow the owner to “deactivate” certain uses of their card.
For example, I’m reasonably certain that I would never, over the span of 10 minutes, transfer eight thousand dollars to any company, never mind a (presumable) company overseas. Call me unaware, but I can’t imagine anything short of a bizarre ransom demand by kidnappers that make me do that.
What I envision is this: Each cardholder has access to the account online that would allow him to turn off and on certain rules that the credit card company can easily detect.
They can be:
a. No overseas payments.
b. No cash payments.
c. No payments over a certain amount.
d. No repeat charges to the same account within a certain time period.
e. If you’re a woman with access to your husband’s account, no payments to any company with the words “Gentlemen’s Club,” “Entertainment,” or “Lap Dances” in the title.
For the ultimate in opt-out security, perhaps you could specify only the companies you would use the card for. For example, Amazon pretty much takes care of all my department store needs except for my local bookstore. I could have great fun with that. I would send my account number to a hundred Nigerian scammers just to imagine them all crowded at the Lagos equivalent of Wal-Mart, getting their purchases blocked. That would make my day.
Best of all from the credit card company’s point of view, they wouldn’t have to do much more than set up the rules. They already allow you access to your account. The card’s owner would be responsible for going into the account and flicking the switches off and on. If there’s a problem ─ say you wanted to buy a book from a British bookseller ─ it would be simple to go into your account, change the rule, make the payment, then change the rule back.
It wouldn’t eliminate all credit card abuse. The scammers could probably develop workarounds eventually. But they’d have to waste their time doing it, and those people who truly care about keeping their treasury secure would be given a lock that might help.
Can’t hurt.
August 20, 2010
I'll be dropping in later, but in the meantime, here's a reprint of what happened today in literary history.
On this day were two events dealing with the fall of man: one poetical, the other scientific:

* The Stationers' Register records on this day in 1667 an entry for "Paradise Lost," a poem in blank verse by John Milton, who was in a sad state at this time of life. He was 59 and had been blind for 15 years. He had buried his first wife 15 years ago and his second six years after that. His support for Oliver Cromwell and the Commonwealth nearly cost him his head. Instead, it cost him his published works, some of which were burned in his stead.
But there were bright spots. He had married the 24-year-old Betty Munshull, and with the help of her and paid assistants, had spent six years on "Paradise Lost," an epic poem of the Fall of Man into which he poured his religious and political beliefs, as well as encoded references to the principles of the Commonwealth.

* On this day in 1858, the Linnean Society of London published two papers in its magazine that had been presented at a meeting six weeks before. By most accounts, it had been a dull gathering on July 1. The members seemed more interested in honoring the death of the society's former president than to engage in scientific inquiry. Eight scientific papers were read from the podium, and during the socializing afterwards, one visitor noted that there was "no semblance of a discussion." In fact, the president of the society observed that the year observed that 1858 had not "been marked by any of those striking discoveries which at once revolutionize, so to speak, the department of science on which they bear."
It's understandable why the papers didn't make a splash. The titles were long: "Extract from an unpublished Work on Species, consisting of a portion of a Chapter entitled, ‘On the Variation of Organic Beings in a state of Nature; on the Natural Means of Selection; on the Comparison of Domestic Races and true Species' and "On the Tendency of Varieties to depart indefinitely from the Original Type." They took up five pages in the magazine, and were accompanied by a letter written in the long-winded style of letter writers with plenty of time on their hands. Sitting in the audience in an overstuffed hall listening to the drone of the speaker, one can understand why most of the people were not paying much attention. But they would, later.
Of course, the theory the two scientists — you probably recognize by now I'm talking about Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace — were proclaiming was evolution, and the idea that natural selection and not the hand of God determined what traits were passed from generation to generation, became the biggest bombshell that exploded in western civilization since Galileo and Copernicus rearranged the planets in their orbits.
Also from the Reader's Almanac:
Born: Edgar Guest, poet, humorist, Birmingham, Warwickshire, 1881;
Paul Tillich, theologian, philosopher, Starzeddel, Germany, 1886;
H.P. Lovecraft, horror author, Providence, R.I., 1890;
William Gresham, noir novelist, Baltimore, Md., 1909;
Jacqueline Susann, novelist, Philadelphia, 1921.
Died: Martin Opitz, poet, literary theorist, Bunzlau, Silesia, 1639;
Charles Sedley, poet, playwright, wit, London, 1701;
Friedrich von Schelling, philosopher, essayist, Bad Ragaz, Switzerland, 1854;
Dan Andersson, poet, Stockholm, Sweden, 1920;
Leon Trotsky, revolutionary, Coyoacán, Mexico, 1940;
A(braham) Moses Klein, poet, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, 1972.
August 12, 2010
The latest blogposts that’s aggravating by short-attention span:
* Edward Champions delivers one of his trademark long-form reviews,
this time of “The Expendables,” the Sylvester Stallone slugfest that’s true to its name. I had forgotten to mention that
his interview with Jennifer Weiner on “The Bat Segundo Show” is well worth listening, even if you’re not interested in her books. They share a great rapport, Jonathan Franzen gets slammed (and Richard Ford praised) and Weiner has a great observation about music mash-ups that made me reconsider some of my opinions about the form, and she has a truly dark idea for a novel that, with the growth of self-publishing, might actually come about.
Not nearly as interesting to me was
his interview with Ken Russell. Despite considerable prodding from Ed and Ken’s assistant (who at times answered questions on his behalf), there didn’t seem to be anything of interest to anyone who has more than a vague idea of who he is. You’re better off rescreening “Lisztomania” or (my favorite) “Crimes of Passion” (1984) with Kathleen Turner and Anthony Perkins.

* No thanks, Ken Levine. There’s nothing so dull going on in my life that would make
watching “The Girls Next Door: Bunny House” worth my time. I have a Ken Russell interview that I need to listen to again.
Don’t be too hard on me. At work, I caught a glimpse of the latest “Batchelor/Batchelorette” reality show and I’m having trouble sleeping from the flashbacks.
* Bookslut links to
a review of “The Slap” by Christos Tsiolkas at the London Review of Books. The publisher compares this Aussie novel to Jonathan Franzen and Don DeLillo. The reviewer prefers to compare it to porn loops. She also finds Time Magazines
“Top 10 Failed Celebrity Political Campaigns”, including, of course, Norman Mailer’s run for mayor.
* Did you know using The Club to protect your car actually increases the chance it would be stolen? So says
Freakonomics.