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John Boston: How to repair your pets & credit

Posted: December 11, 2008 10:08 p.m.
Updated: December 12, 2008 4:59 a.m.
"Modern man drives a mortgaged car over a bond-financed highway on credit-card gas."
- Earl Wilson

It's only fitting that I announce in my hometown paper that I'm doing my part to help the sagging economy. I'm opening a new business in downtown Newhall.

You know. That area where the city, acting as Mexico, declared DN the Alamo, effectively cutting it off from the outside world?

Dear Mr. Boston,
We did NOT! Gail Ortiz just happened to accidentally over-order 11,714,064 municipal STOP, WRONG WAY, DO NOT ENTER and GET OUT, DAMN YOU signs and had no place to put them. Like there's anyone left in downtown Newhall with juice enough to complain.
Merry Xmas,
Frank Ferry, Mayor
Whose New Motto Is: "Live, Work & Shop in La Cañada!"

Thank you, Fwank.
I'm leasing some serious ghetto storefront on Main Street and opening - blare of cracked trumpets - John Boston's Ace Credit and Damaged Pet Repair Service. Couple of decades behind on the mortgage? Late as in ‘Cripes I Missed That Time Of The Month And I Think We're Pregnant' on your VISA?' Owe the Russian Mafia cash? Your dog doesn't work quite right?
I can help.

Let's say you owe a king's ransom to the Canyon Country First Fiduciary & Roasted Garlic Duck Bank, which, as we now know, is the Communist Party and a Chinese restaurant with offices in Honby and Guangzhou.
For the nominal fee of 10 percent of your outstanding balance - and aren't balances always just simply outstanding - I will wipe your debt from the books. Here's how it works.

For argument's sake, you owe $10,000. With spiraling and compound interest rates, that $10,000 is mutating at a rate of $16 every 40 seconds. By the end of the next billing cycle, you now owe more money than actually exists in the world.
You send me $1,000.
I write your credit card company the following letter:

Dear John Reardon @ CCFF&RGDB,
Please excuse Steve Arklin from paying his bill. He is sick and may not participate in Mastercard or P.E.
Dr. Seymour Butts
Voted SCV's Best Proctologist With A Van

Now with some of the more clever banks, like B.O. Santa Clarita, this ploy may not always work. Sidebar: Do you think, after six months being open, a director's eyebrows hit the ceiling and he screamed: "Painted Whores of Babylon! Our initials stand for Body Odor!"

Long, Hitchcockian pause. Someone yells: "You said ‘Body Odor!'" Then, like kindergarteners, the board of directors tumbles from their seats, giggling hysterically. Bank poobah James D. Hicken claps his hands furiously, then makes them sit facing the wall until naptime.

Despite the outburst, your credit card holder may not buy the doctor's note excuse and will probably send you a form letter ending with the sentence: "Deadbeat."

No problem. You are now eligible for The John Boston Silver Credit Repair Program.

That's where I come to your home with a camera and actor friend Eric Muhl dressed like a cop. We lay you on the ground, draw a homicide chalk line around you with Eric kneeling next to the body. We send the photos to your creditors with the following note:

Are you happy now?
Your incessant pestering killed him. He was such a good man (woman). So round. So firm. So fully packed. Well. You can't get blood, or in this case, the balance from Account No. 0001 38A 614 666 666 pi r squared from a corpse.

Best wishes for the impending Armageddon,
Barack ‘My Middle Name Actually IS Bin Laden' Obama.

You'll forgive another sidebar, but the more I think about it, the more I like the idea of having all The Signal's Letters to the Editor start with the salutation:

Instead of the predictable:
Dear Editor: (yawn implied).
I also feel we'd get more readership having everyone sign their name Barack Obama. Or, as my 86-year-old father calls him, "Bob O-Boom-Boom." Cracks up me and the 5-year-old. Anyway. Credit repair.

Be forewarned. The credit industry isn't a Bunch of Dummies (another great salutation replacement for "Dear Editor.") When you play the old Death Card Ploy, creditors may require some sort of proof, like your severed head mailed overnight in a 254-ounce Kraft Miracle Whip jar.

If you don't travel in those kinds of grave-robbing circles, try Toys"R"Us. Hasbro makes a great life-sized human head.

If the Silver Package doesn't cut the mustard, please consider The John Boston Gold Credit Protection Plan.

For 20 percent of your balance, we customize your phone to automatically transfer problem credit calls to one of our crack CPAs (Credit Performance Artists). Again, using our legions of out-of-work local actors, we have the industry's most unique and effective method of dealing with pesky hounds o' hell bill collectors.

Our trained associates not only keep the callers on the phone as long as possible, thereby eating into the collection agency's entire work day, they venture the extra mile, calling the collection agents at home while breathing heavy and making sexual innuendos at odd hours of the day and night, weekends, holidays. Exhausted, teary, hopeless, the credit card suppliers have only one choice: capitulation.

Or do they?

If all else fails, you may qualify for The John Boston Platinum Program.

That's where we visit the credit card headquarters disguised as federal auditors. Once we access their mainframe, we don't just wipe your balance off the books, we transfer it to the CEO's account while issuing you another $175,000 in unsecured credit.

Oh. If you're credit's hunky-dory, but your hound has misplaced his smile, bring him by John Boston's Ace Credit and Damaged Pet Repair Service in Downtown Newhall.

We'll duct-tape his doggie grin back up again, good as new.

John Boston, if that's his real name, has 117 major national, regional and California awards for writing excellence. His column appears in The Mighty Signal on Fridays and Sundays.



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