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Tell me if you think this reasoning is dumb. I’m not going to pay my credit card bills anymore. I lost my house to the bank so my credit is already fux0red so that part doesn’t even matter. I owe between $3,000 and $4,000 in credit cards right now and I’ve been diligently paying them each month. I usually pay just slightly over the minimum. Sometimes I pay twice the minimum. And occasionally I’ll drop $100 on one. This year I’ve ridded myself of 2 or 3 credit cards forever by finally getting them paid. Occasionally I’m so broke that I don’t make the payments on time. This results in insane late fees. Like $30 or $35 per card. Plus, on the two cards that have high balances, the interest rates end up being $15 - $20 per month. So when I make the minimum payments, I’m actually only putting a few dollars towards paying them off. Only when I occasionally drop $100 on them am I really making a dent in them. And the occasional late fees screw that up. Seems like an endless battle. Anyway, back to my point. I quit paying them and after 3 or 4 months, they’ll send me to collection agencies. When the collection agencies start begging me for payments, that’s when I’ll resume paying the cards. Because collection agencies aren’t going to charge me $35 for being late and there won’t be any more interest rates. Right? Or am I missing something? None of the cards even have my phone number anymore. They all have my old Illinois number so I won’t have to deal with daily phone calls from them. Just letters. Maybe I’ll just stick it to The Man and never pay them! But nah, I’m sure I’ll pay them eventually. Besides losing the high interest rates and late fees, it sure would be nice to have a 3 or 4 month break in paying my credit cards. I came very close to dropping a bunch of credit card payments in the mail today but stopped myself in the nick of time. Anyone have any input/thoughts?
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This cracks me up. It’s from Jack, who is currently homeless somewhere in England… We opted to live, instead, a little closer in to town and chose a fine, four story privately-owned mansion which had been vacant for two years on Keats Grove in tony Hampstead Heath, located right across the road from Romantic poet John Keats old house. Though in a state of disrepair, the mansion suited our purposes and had electricity and water and we stayed there for about three weeks until a neighbour noticed two of our number leaving the house one day and phoned the building’s owners, a wealthy American couple. I was awoken that morning by shouts of “hullo, hullo” coming from the first floor kitchen and when I went downstairs to investigate, found two women and a man intruding in our squat! The man and I both shouted simultaneously, “Who the hell are you?!” “I’m the owner,” he replied, absolutely livid. “Well, I’m the squatter,” I countered, cool and level. “Get the hell out of my house,” he ordered. I asked if he’d seen the section six paperwork posted in the front window, a legal requirement for squatting, and told him to get the hell out of our squat! There’s a legal process, I informed him, to have squatters evicted and suggested that if he wanted us removed from the premises, he’d better begin that process.
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