Got my annual info from the Social Security Administration today, telling me how much money I've earned every year since 1983 (when I apparently filed a tax return for having earned $365, probably at a summer job—I was one of those obnoxious 15-year-old kids who knocks on your door and says "Hi, I'm in a contest with ten other kids my age to win a college scholarship [or a bicycle, depending on whether the person who answers looks like the type to approve of college or not], how would you like to try a subscription to the San Francisco Chronicle or the San Francisco Examiner?If you don't like it, you can cancel at any time"). Where was I? Oh, right, Social Security. What I started out to say is that the best bit of the Social Security mailing is this line:
Your spouse or minor child may be eligible for a special one-time death benefit of $255.
Makes me wanna run right out and get married and procreate, just so someone can get that special one-time death benefit. Act now!
(I must be tired; I keep thinking that "death benefit" sounds like a star-studded rock concert, presumably to be called DeadAid.)