Everyone below this comment has nothing futher to add to this argument.

I ordered a garage door and installation from Home Depot (I know, big mistake) a few years back. When I got home from work on the day it was installed, everything looked hunky-dory. Except there were no windows in the door (I paid extra for them). After a few weeks of "we'll get back to you to schedule a re-installation," I initiated a chargeback. The problem was fixed within a couple of days.

As the writer of that original "olde-tyme" post referenced above, I obviously have great affinity for credit unions (and I'm not affiliated with one, although I used to write ads for one, which is why I love them so). I also have zero sympathy for banks. Yes, executives at many credit unions get paid well--just like CEOs at most charity non-profits. But it's peanuts compared to bank executives.

Banks screw customers. Credit unions, by and large, don't. If you want fewer fees and better interest rates, join a credit union. If you want to line the pockets of bankers and their investors in the name of capitalisim, stick with your bank.

Isn't this akin to asking for no baked potato with your steak, then expecting a bigger steak in return?

According to Wikipedia (and apparently, the US Patent Office), calling someone a "dyke" is totally OK:

Increasing acceptance

In the late 20th and early 21st century, the term was reclaimed by many lesbians (to a far greater extent than, for example, "fag" for gay men). Examples in the culture include the comic strip "Dykes to Watch out For" and the traditional Dykes on Bikes that lead pride parades.

Matters came to a head when the United States Patent and Trademark Office denied lesbian motorcycle group Dykes on Bikes a trademark for its name, on the grounds that "dyke" was an offensive word. In 2005, after a prolonged court battle involving testimony on the word's changing role in the lesbian community, the Trademark Trial and Appeal Board permitted the group to register its name. (365gay.com)

"Dyke Marches" have become a popular Pride event nationwide. They are generally non-commercial, often in sharp contrast to corporate-sponsored pride events, and are usually inclusive of lesbian, bi, and trans women."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dyke_%28lesbian%29

Ah, this is one of my favorite party topics. Here goes:

#1: There are some Burger Kings that'll still serve you a Bull's-Eye BBQ Burger (an early 90s staple). It's basically two burger patties on a chicken sandwich roll, topped with BBQ sauce, onions, and--if memory serves me--a couple of pickles.

#2: Many Arby's offer the French Dip, a roast beef sandwich on a long roll, served with a li'l gravy dish of au jus. Sure to please.

#3: My favorite: The Taco Bell Encharito. A combination of an enchilada and a burrito, this tasty treat comes on a plate with red sauce and two (no more, no less) olive slices. A can't miss.

Consumerist breaks down when submitters write 500-word screeds about a how a $7/hr. salesperson in a mall store has some trouble processing a $5 discount correctly.

I'm just sayin'.

I, too, have used the Internet, and have found it to be CHOCK FULL of porn. Who do I talk to about a refund?

My wife took our Honda CR-V to John O'Donnell Auto Repair in Sharon Hill, PA last week for new brakes. My wife was quoted a price over the phone before the repairs were made (about $300), but when she went in to pick up the car, John told her the price was actually less: a little over $200. Now, John could have just kept the price right where it was, and we would have been none the wiser. But an honest mechanic like this just gained a customer for life.

When I walked into the ColdStone in Stone Harbor, NJ, they started to sing, and I got out of line and walked out of the store.

Then I wised up.

Now, I go in with a fistfull of dollar bills. Hundreds. And boy howdy do I tip. One dollar after another. For hours upon end. Until the entire staff is bleary eyed and bleeding from their entrails. Then I vault the counter and feast on their frozen delights until I pass out or the assistant manager turns me away with a shotgun, whichever comes first.