Bad Jazz and Incompetent Customer Service Reps

That's the Wachovia Difference!

Hey, Wachovia, I hope you're reading this.

You Suck with a capital S.

No, better yet, you SUCK with all capitals.

Don't tell me I'm not signed up for online banking when I am. Don't tell me I can't transfer to non-Wachovia accounts when I do it every month. Don't tell me I can't set up a transfer to an account not in my name when it's already done. And for the love of God, would you please find some hold music that isn't labeled, "Jazz Fusion Puke," ?

And since I just "shared my Wachovia experience," why don't you drop $25 in my account right about now?

Rock On, Wachovia!

This is from the homepage of wachovia.com, where I bank. Acoustic-playing, Army-jacket, ripped- jean, Chuck Taylor-wearing Rockerman is EXCITED about Wachovia's fixed rate mortgage loans. In fact, he's so pumped, he might just write a song about how his old adjustable rate mortgage was taking food out of his baby's mouth while The Man was getting rich and fat keeping him down.

Which reminds me; if I read one more sycophantic review of Springsteen's latest upchucking of pseudo-Americana, I'm going to...I don't what I'm going to do. But Springsteen releasing another buttload of whiny working-man, stop-the-war, what-happened-to-my-country songs is not worthy of the Google News homepage for 2 weeks. You're not the Boss of me, Bruce.

Yes, I am aware that the Springsteen Army is vast and vehement. Bring it on. You can't make me worship him. And I'm no less an American if I don't. If we have to choose a preacher of the singer-songwriter variety to be the spokesperson for our Collective National Angst, I'll take Canadian Neil Young any day.