Too big to fail, and too big, even, to pay attention...

We live in a marvelous age. From my computer, or even my phone, I can order almost anything, from almost anywhere, and have it on my doorstep in a moment. If I order from Amazon, and I'm willing to wait a couple of extra moments, Amazon will give me a digital credit besides.

Amazon has my credit card; I have my desires. I get stuff without having to leave the house; Amazon gets money.

Most of the time, it is a satisfactory relationship. Not healthy, necessarily, but satisfactory.

The picture above shows a Ninja Foodi Programmable 10-in-1 5-Quart Pressure Cooker and Air Fryer.

Amazon thinks I ordered one of these on August 21 of this year and directed that it be shipped to Vancouver, Washington, a place where I know no one and where I've never been.

I found what appeared to be an Amazon email in my inbox on the morning of August 22 advising me of this "purchase" and, of course, I completely lost my mind.

Mind you, as a sophisticated netizen, who knew damn good and well that I had not ordered this item, I did not click on any of the inviting links in said email. I fired up my computer, opened Amazon, and went to my recent orders page. And, of course, the order was not there. How could it be? I hadn't ordered it.

I found a "report a scam" address somewhere on the Amazon homepage and forwarded said email, advising of my suspicions that this must be some sort of phishing expedition.

Pretty good for an old guy, right?

But I am not just a good netizen, I am a cautious consumer. I went next to the webpage of the ginormous bank which issued the credit card I had linked to the Amazon account.

Ruh roh! Ginormous Bank showed a charge had been made for this item ($124.95, if you're comparison shopping).

Now we'd entered a different realm: Someone was trying to live in an even more marvelous age than thee or me. This person had found a way to order almost anything, from almost anywhere, and charge it to someone else's credit card. I had been hacked.

But I knew what to do. After fighting my way through not-at-all-helpful phone-menu Hell, I eventually got hold of a human at Ginormous Bank, advised of the fraudulent charge, and canceled the compromised card.

Meanwhile, later that same day, Amazon sent me an email proudly announcing that it had failed to cancel the fraudulent order but instead had shipped it.

In fairness, my initial email to Amazon (written before I knew that a charge had been made to my credit card) did not say outright that this order was fraudulent. When I forwarded that first email, advising that the order appeared to have been placed, I wrote, "This looked legitimate -- as well as fraudulent. I checked my account online to verify that no such product was ordered, but this is a definite phishing attempt."

So -- again -- good netizen and good customer that I am -- and within a few hours of receiving same -- I dutifully forwarded the shipping email to the Amazon "report a scam" address with a more carefully worded email, the pertinent portions of which are as follows:

I have received another email on this fraudulent transaction. I am forwarding this email herewith.

I reported this fraudulent transaction by email this morning.

I did not see this order show up on my Amazon Orders page. It is not there yet. However, the credit card that I have linked to Amazon was charged $124.95 in connection with this fraudulent purchase.

I have reached out to the card holder, disputed the transaction, and the card will be reissued.

I will change my Amazon password immediately.

Is there any other action I should take?

Thank you in advance for your anticipated prompt response.

Perhaps my communication skills are slipping... but I believe the above and foregoing was surely adquate to convey the fact that the order in question was fraudulent. This email was sent on the afternoon of August 22. Amazon said it planned to deliver the item in question -- to Vancouver, Washington -- on August 28. In other words, they had more than enough time to take the darned thing off the truck.

If they wanted to. If anyone was actually paying attention.

Amazon did not respond to this email specifically.

But that very night, in the wee small hours of the morning, Amazon sent me another email 'confirming' my order of a plant stand that I wanted sent to Barre, Vermont.

Another place I've never been.

And, of course, I had not ordered any plant stand. I fired off another email to Amazon "report a scam."

I must confess: Some ALL CAPS were involved....

But things seemed to settle down after that: Ginormous Bank issued me a new card. I linked said new card to my Amazon account and resumed ordering such gimcracks and gewgaws as I required. All seemed well with the world....

... Until last night. Why does Amazon send these things at night? (I fear I may know the answer: Our future AI-overlords have no need of sleep....)

Anyway, this latest email says, in essence, golly, your credit card issuer reversed the charge for this item... but we'd like our money anyway.

I've spent the morning trying to find a telephone number to call to complain. I did find a way to ask for Amazon to call me -- and someone did call -- and I related the facts as set forth here. Perhaps a bit more loudly. It didn't help that the "customer service" screens had no option for me to report (again) a fraudulent transaction. It also did not help that the call dropped twice. The poor lady who had to deal with me called back the first time; I guess she'd had enough after the second drop. I don't suppose, really, that I blame her.

Thereafter, after re-reading the latest Amazon email, I composed a terse, but rational, response (copying "report a scam" just in case they've never been introduced).

So far, I've received a generic reply to my response, mostly telling me to do all the things I did in August... when I first reported the situation. The interrupted phone call yielded this email:

I haven't responded, of course, because I don't know if the problem is resolved yet or not. Time will tell.

I am not entirely optimistic....

Thoughts on watching the oral argument in the Trump fraud case

When I post an article to FWIW, I generally put up a linking post on X (which you may still think of as Twitter). That's normal self-promotion, and not necessarily unhealthy.

The unhealthy part comes when I start browsing... and re-Tweeting... and liking... and bookmarking... and going into and through a myriad of rabbit holes, some of them apparently sane and informative, others obviously anything but. The really crazy ones are sometimes the most entertaining... and addicting.

Way back in 1993 Peter Steiner came up with an iconic cartoon for The New Yorker (at left) that suggested (and not for the last time) that not every Internet "expert" was what they seemed to be. And now there's 'Legal Twitter.' I don't mean to suggest that any particular account is flea-bitten... but one can sometimes get suspicious.

Lately about a gazillion Tweets have been posted about the September 26 oral arguments in the case of People of the State of NY v. Trump, No. 2023-04925. That's a link to the video of the oral argument in the preceding sentence; the YouTube video of the argument is at the end of this post.

A great many of the posts on X about the argument, many of them with clips from the argument, suggested that the New York Attorney General was 'destroyed' (or similar terms) in the argument... some suggesting that, by the end, the State was begging not to have sanctions imposed.

Um.

Actually, part of the argument concerned an appeal from sanctions against Trump's lawyers.

I know this because I watched the argument today.

I watched it because I wanted to see for myself how well or badly Trump fared in the argument.

I don't claim to be an expert on 'Legal Twitter.'

I don't have a license to practice in New York. I've never practiced in New York. I have argued a fair number of appeals, however, though only in Illinois.

And, in the course of arguing cases before an appellate bench, I developed a sense of whether I was likely to prevail... or not. (It's one of the reasons I always... well, almost always... wanted oral argument on an appeal: When I filed my last brief, whether appellee's brief, or appellant's reply, I was always convinced I had crafted a winning argument. A decision issued without argument sometimes brought with it a cruel letdown.)

I'm not saying I could always walk out of a courtroom knowing I had won or lost... well, there was one time....

*** Shimmer *** Shimmer *** Shimmer ***

How's that for special effects?

I represented the family of an immigrant from the former Yugoslavia. He came to this country in August 1998, after the repeal of the Illinois Structural Work Act. He was dead 90 days later.

He was doing rough carpentry work on a new home in Hinsdale. They were just starting to put frame of the home up on the day of my client's fatal accident; there were no internal walls yet constructed. The subfloor was in place, but no basement stairs had been installed. Instead, two large pieces of plywood covered the opening.

The plywood was nailed in place; otherwise it would have opened into the basement like a trap door. The general contractor was going to handle the installation of the basement stairs himself. He removed all the nails which had protected the opening, but hadn't moved the plywood off the opening when he was interrupted by a page. The contractor also owned a tavern in Cicero... and some men wanted to see him about the video poker machines that he had installed there. The contractor immediately dropped everything and took off. It would not do to keep those good fellows waiting in Cicero... if you know what I mean.

Concerning the condition of the jobsite that he left behind, the contractor's deposition testimony was, essentially, (1) I removed all the nails, but didn't move the plywood so that the opening could be seen; (2) I knew I'd created a dangerous situation, but I had to leave; and (3) I'm sorry I created a dangerous situation.

It was lunchtime. My man started to walk through the house to join the other workers for lunch.

He never made it. He dropped through the plywood trap door that was created by the contractor's removal of the nails, tumbling over as he fell, hitting his head on the basement floor. He never regained consciousness.

I was brought in for the appeal from the summary judgment awarded to the defendants.

That result may seem absurd the way I've laid out the facts... I hope it does... but my guy was not available to explain what happened and, in the vernacular, nobody saw nothing. Even if they did have a clear line of sight. And they did. However, nearly everyone on the job also hailed from the former Yugoslavia... there was a language barrier... and a pronounced reluctance, quite common among immigrants from former Communist countries, to talk to the police. And appellate counsel can only work with the record made in the trial court.

Still... I thought I had a case... a good case.

I don't know why the man's family came to oral argument. His widow, a couple of grown sons, some other relations... they all crowded around me after the argument was concluded, telling me what a great job I'd done.

It tore my guts out.

They did not understand how badly the argument went. The panel was not hostile or rude or anything... but, when I got up for rebuttal, the justice presiding closed his folder and pushed his chair back. He was done. And so was I.

I remember trying to break the news to the family, trying to find a way to tamp down their enthusiasm. I also remember that the decision came down in nine days.

Nine days.

*** Shimmer *** Shimmer *** Shimmer ***

Anyway, while the outcome was never as certain as it was in that case, I would typically leave oral argument with a pretty fair sense of whether I had a shot... or whether I'd been shot down. I wasn't always right, but I was usually right.

I watched the Trump appeal video to see if I could develop a sense about where the panel was going. No, I hadn't read the briefs. No, I hadn't particularly followed the trial. I certainly had not studied the record.

But, if the argument had gone the way that so many were claiming on X, I was pretty sure I'd be able to tell.

And I could not tell.

It's never a good sign when you catch your first question just as you finish identifying yourself. That happened to the New York AG here. And there's clearly some judicial discomfort about the scope of the statute in question and the amount of the damages awarded. But both sides faced pointed questions....

I guess we'll have to let the court speak for itself. When it decides to speak.

But don't take my word for it.

At this point, in this climate, I pretty much don't believe anything about anybody unless I see it for myself. See for yourself, if you have 50 minutes, and see what you think.