Kankakee debt collection firm Credit Recovery Associates (CRASS) partnered with drugstore chain Wally Green’s to offer coffees to all collectors who doubled down on debt. Never settling for less, CRASS collectors ask creditors for twice they can afford. As a reward, drugstore owner, wacky inventor and wannabe ladies’ man Wally Green gave all collectors who made their Double-Down quota one cup of coffee Buy One Get One Half Off (But Never Free).
Isn’t Wally generous? He thinks so.
Credit Recovery Associates, LLC (CRASS) Bill Collector Dale Davis sits in the company break-room corner, all by his lonesome, wishing his boss / crush Sybil Kibble would come join him. He never asked her, just assumed.
He cut his hair and shaved his moustache just for her. Oh darn.
What a CRASS idea!
Some Moran (yes that is their name) thought it might be a good idea to make it legal for bill collectors like the fictional Sybil Kibble text your phones to beg for money. Even if the debt is not really owed; since medical bills are notoriously incorrectly billed, these morons think they can spam your phone.
Oh and people have been thrown in jail over medical debt.
Nobody should do time because they have medical debt.
Here is a better idea for all you who hire those CRASS, LLC wannabes: How about asking the customer if they have additional insurance? Or and here is another no-brainer: how about billing primary and secondary insurances in the order the patient specified? Don’t know which goes first? I dunno, maybe try asking the patient. They just might tell you. Duh.
For choosing greed over empathy, I award these bill collectors and those who hire them Moron of the Week.
Ennui has taken over narcissistic abuser and sociopath Damien Hurlbutt as he sits alone in his Bourbonnais neckbeard-nest. He wants to stir up trouble and call attention to himself because he is addicted to creating chaos. His last supplier of attention, Rachel Shelley, has run off with Kankakee smack addict Leon Peeonne. Sitting on his lone piece of bedroom furniture, a metal folding chair, he tries to email his former wife Lori Brown — who he calls “Grimace”:
To: “Lori T. Brown” [OhLorT16@fmail.cannes]
From: “Damien U. Hurlbutt” [connivingpimp@hautemail.con]
Wednesday, November 4, 2020
Subject: breakfast, lunch, smunch
Hi Honey Puddin’!
This week has been a keystone for an avalanche. I have a stitch in my side. I want to see you, make me feel better, puddin’. :-)
Moments later, he gets a message from Marty the Mailer-Daemon:
To: “Damien U. Hurlbutt” [connivingpimp@hautemail.con]
From: Mail Delivery Subsystem
Wednesday, November 4, 2020
Subject: Failure Notice
Sorry, we were unable to deliver your message to the following address.
Unable to deliver message after multiple retries. Giving up, not dying trying.
Yours,
Mailer-Daemon
“Come now!” Damien exclaims out of narcissistic rage. He then re-sends the email to Marty the Mailer-Daemon, only to get get blocked by him as well.
CRASS CEO Mack. E. Avelli holds a staff meeting to gather ideas to increase their bottom line.
“Maybe we can invest in having some CRASS masks printed up, and give them away in Wally Green’s drugstores to help advertise our business?” Art Director Dorian James suggests.
“That will cost us money. We take money here at CRASS, not give it away.”
Operation Director Mikey Philips’ hand goes up.
“Let us pray to the bill collector gods to make it rain.”
The room erupts in laughter.
Sybil Kibble raises her hand and waves it in excitement.
“How about we add random people on Fakebook? We can sell our services to the suckers who accept. And we might find some of the debtors who have been hanging up!”
“It’s a game-changer Sybil. Your idea will add CRASS synergy. We are CRASS, and so are you.”
Lead Debt Collector Sybil makes herself busy adding wealthy folks all over Fakebook, hoping some people will bite. Meanwhile Damien Hurlbutt is also up to no-good.
“I am going to look for a clump of people on cBay,” Damien thinks aloud. His frown turns upside down, becoming his trademark evil grin.
“Oh kids. Ohhhh kidssss.” Damien puts in a high bid for an item listed by Lori.
An hour later, Damien logs onto cBay to check on the item.
“My little and dainty ex blocked me. I know…hee hee. I will add her under a sock account on Fakebook.”
Damien strokes his orange, straggly beard, dons his black fedora and heads over to the apartment of petty-criminal Pat Splatt.
“La di da di da. Look at all the people who accepted my friend requests!” Sybil Kibble says to herself. She begins telling them all about CRASS and how they can “help you recover Accounts Receivables.”
She calls her mother, JoAnn, and invites her for a dog-food dinner.
“Can you take a raincheck? I need to rearrange my bus-parts collection.”
Sybil downs her dog food, and logs or her remote laptop to hopefully double down on debt.
“Why is my computer asking for money?” Sybil asks out loud, eyes glazing over as she glares at the ransomware screen featuring a slender, bespectacled, long-haired guy, his face covered in black stubble.
Damien pounds on Pat Splatt’s door, jiggles the knob a bunch of times and the bulbous neckbeard gets let in.
Damien peers over to 47-year old college student and gallery janitor Pat, kicked back in his office chair, feet plopped atop his computer desk. Heavy metal can be heard blaring from his massive sound system.
“Heck, Damien. I have been busy.”
“Oh really?”
“Do you see this screen?”
Pat swivels his desktop computer monitor ever-so-slightly over toward Damien.
“Ahhhh.”
“I did the deed. I infected her machine.”
“I know, I know. Now get me her details.”
“Oh, that will cost you a convenience fee. Go home, log on to your Fakebook. I will slide the deets into your box.”
Damien rushes home, driving like a maniac, despite his car’s gas gauge reading almost empty.
Damien enters his email, password and logs on. He immediately checks his instant message from Pat. Damien’s screen locks up, displaying a drawing of Pat dressed in a pirate costume with a black skull-and-bones flag composited into the background, along with a message asking for money to unlock his computer.
“Well doesn’t that put poop in my soup?”
Damien heads back to Pat’s house, his car running on fumes.
As Damien confronts Pat, sirens are heard, growing louder as the seconds drag by. “Sit down Damien.” A loud pound is heard on Pat’s door.
Sybil and the CRASS crew now are happy their computers are working again, despite their accounts having been banned from Fakebook. They create new accounts and start over. All is well in the Moroniverse.
“God is that you, I have some questions,” asks Kankakee debt-collection firm CRASS’ chief, Mack E. Avelli. “I am sorry IF I have ripped people off. I was just trying to help. I come from a broken home, and my heel spurs really have been hurting. I have a stitch in my side…”
“Mack, go back to bed! It’s just your phone!” exclaims his 22-year-old wife Judithann.
Mr. Avelli checks his mobile phone, despite his wife’s plea, putting it on speaker:
“We have pre-approved loans and you still may be eligible. Press one now to get a hassle-free decision…”
This Moron slid into Kankakee debt collector and dog-food enthusiast Sybil Kibble’s inbox and would not let go. Silly scammer, get a hobby.
MoronicArts 
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