Everything Wrong with Online Banking

Online banking is difficult for me. When I first saw my mentor Chief Justice’ secret headquarters I was most impressed with his hidden vault, which he’d bought second-hand, from Al Capone via Geraldo. A platoon of ninjas guarded the entrance. How did I know that these silent, almost invisible killers were there? A trained eye can always tell “ninja droppings” – which are metal shavings from their throwing stars that end up on the floor.

Anyone who afford to maintain ninjas – they eat only the best sushi, and they need a lot of room to exercise – must be wealthy indeed. Later I learned that the Chief’s ninjas were undocumented aliens – they weren’t even Japanese. These Vietnamese ninjas were just as silent and deadly – a ninja’s a ninja’s a ninja – whatever country they came from. I point that out because Chief Justice was a real innovator in non-traditional ninja employment.

In addition to the ninjas was a small dragon – defanged and deflamed – for show, obviously. Other security measures consisted of the usual locks and fingerprints and a small medical scale which would only activate and spring the vault entry’s hinges when it was occupied with a pint of fresh type O-negative blood.

That is my blood type. Chief Justice maintained that he he tried to get his bank to change it to O-positive, which is much more common, but their customer service left much to be desired. The amount of treasure in Chief Justice’ vault always amazed me but I realize I might have exaggerated the count of gold bars because of blood loss.

The home vault method of banking was infinitely superior to online banking.

Nowadays they ask me my login, my password, if I recognize the special image I provided earlier (it’s a group photo of me with all the friends I met in rehab), the highest prime number I recall off the top of my head, the Capital of Congo, plus the latitude and longitude of my high school (in decimal degrees). I feel much like I did in those early days: pale, drained of vital blood supply and nauseous. And that’s before I see my balance!

But you can’t get a good vault anymore. When my Realtor showed me the secret headquarters that I eventually bought, there wasn’t even a space for a vault. The closest possible space – deep underground, with steel reinforced walls and a single means of egress – was clearly to be the rumpus room, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice that for a vault, since I needed a room with walls that would withstand the force of ricocheted Ping Pong balls traveling at 900 MPH.

In the midst of the current economic crisis I advocate a return to vault-based banking. Home banking is much better for the economy, especially if you factor in the employment of your ninjas, and you will never need to remember your login again, as long as you have a supply of fresh blood.

Above photo is of a reclining ninja within a home bank vault.