So I'm checking out at the Safeway. I've swiped my Safeway Club card and the cashier is ringing things up. I swipe my credit card, and the display asks me if I want to make a donation to fight prostate cancer.
I hit "No." Ten seconds later, the cashier asks me if I'd like to make a donation to fight prostate cancer. "Not today, thanks," I reply, and cleave her skull in twain with the meat cleaver I got free for buying $25 worth of premium Angus beef today. Yeah, I know, she has to ask, it's part of her job, and she probably hates it as much as I do, but still.
Yes, I hate prostate cancer. And breast cancer. And homelessness. And the fact that some people can't afford to pay their utility bills. That's why Cunegonde and I make charitable contributions to the Salvation Army and other charities and at least two churches (Cunegonde writes out checks to both a Southern Baptist church and a Unitarian one, which always makes me smile). And on April 15, we add them up and put them on our tax return, and get a tax deduction so the federal deficit increases by a few bucks. And we don't have to scrounge up a bunch of Safeway receipts that show we donated a dollar to end world hunger - if the receipts even show the donation.