judith jarvis thompson

The whirr of the bank machine is my accountant. If I hear it, I’m solvent. If I don’t, I’m not.

Read the rest of this article here.

“The most likely explanation, I correctly surmised, was that the bank had simply made a mistake…”

I’d like to say that I agonised about what to do next. But that would be an utter lie. When a friend, over breakfast, suggested contacting my branch, I laughed so violently that a Rice Krispie and a trickle of milk exited my left nostril rather abruptly. Read the rest of this article here.