Yesteryear's chocolate was a simple proposition: sickly-sweet candy bars in the checkout aisle beside your bubble gum and Tic Tacs. Milk chocolate, caramel, nougat, and peanuts were the building blocks of childhood fancies: your Snickers, your Baby Ruth, your Kit Kat. Yet, today, those items are strictly for the birds. Contemporary consumers have seen the advent of boutique chocolatiers, purveyors of artisan bonbons stuffed with ginger ganache, panko bread crumbs, and (natch) chipotle chile. Citing cacao percentiles, confectioners charge premiums for purism. But is one compelled to subscribe to chocolate chic? Or may one find comfort in kids' standbys? In this new milieu, I was all at sixes and sevens, not knowing which chocolate to eat. Naturally, I turned to bankruptcy for the answer.

About 5 years-ago, Congress drafted a bankruptcy reform act. Its title: The Bankruptcy Abuse Prevention and Consumer Protection Act of 2005. Skeptical eyes prone to veto would summarily glaze upon a glimpse of this mouthful; the Act had been shrewdly coined. In everyday usage, it is slightly abbreviated to BAPCPA and affectionately referred to by debtors attorneys as BARF, which apparently stands for the colloquialism... barf. While some etymologists trace the acronym to the Latin, Bankruptus Ad Res Fides, most contend the vomitus reference is implicitly censorious. Perhaps, we'll never know for sure.

Under the new law, it became incumbent upon bankruptcy filers to complete Online or telephonic Debtor Education. The first of two parts to "Debt Ed" is a pre-filing "Course" in Credit Counseling or "CCC." Of course, the word, "course" is generally defined as a series of lessons. Yet, the CCC is a single, 1-2 hour session. The titular misnomer, which suggests a daunting task (rather than a brief commitment) fits the simple rationale of Debt Ed: to discourage would-be bankruptcy filers... from becoming bankruptcy filers. The CCC requires that you list your income, expenses, and debts, with the purported purpose of precluding bankruptcy by drafting a debt repayment plan. In 99.99% of cases, repayment's unfeasible and one's CCC counselor does not draft a plan. In 0.01% of cases, repayment's unfeasible, and one's CCC counselor does draft a plan, for academic purposes.

(The second of two parts to Debt Ed is a post-filing course (well, class) in Personal Financial Management. We'll talk about that another time; it's relevant, but it might disrupt the flow.)

Courts will concede the CCC is a hollow exercise. Debt repayment is not a viable option for persons who have necessarily turned to bankruptcy. Yet, bankruptcy moves in mysterious ways; Debt Ed has still proven to be quite beneficial, as you shall see.

Now, fees vary significantly among the many Debt Ed companies. We took care to find an economical, yet high quality provider (we strive to partner with those of a like mind) to whom we'd refer our clients. I like our Debt Ed provider. They are responsive and care for our clients. I had the privilege of meeting their reps at a bankruptcy conference. For reference, bankruptcy conferences are like any other colloquium: you get a name tag, bag swag at the vendor booths, and tax-deduct your Starbucks tab. Bankruptcy conferences are also similar to the local, Comic-Con, San Diego's pop culture convention. Comic-Con patrons dress like favorite comic book heroes; at a bankruptcy conference, guests likewise depart from everyday attire: they wear jeans.

At bankruptcy conferences' vendor or sponsor halls, many Debt Ed companies gather to distribute pens. I think they also compete for lawyers' referrals, but mainly they bring a lot of pens. After passing myriad providers' tables, and rejecting their services, I end up with a lot of pens.

Promotional writing implements are like those "brand name" watches you buy on the street. They look pretty, but they don't last. But that's okay, because you get a lot of them. They feature comfort-grips, bold colors, and sometimes they have bulbs that flash when you tap a surface; others have those window-ads that rotate when you click to retract the point, and that's pretty addictive.

But a wide assortment of pens isn't the only gift of Debtor Education. Once yearly, our Debt Ed provider ships a token of winter-season chocolates. This year: a serendipitous 4 lb. box of See's. See, See's was the happy middle ground we'd been seeking, halfway between elitist Godiva and grass-roots Reese's. The sweet spot betwixt truffles and Twix. Thus, it was Debtor Education that cured my chocolate quandary.

Debt Ed did not effect its legislative purpose; the CCC has not particulary availed my clients. Yet, it has unequivocally benefited me. It has satisfied my sweet tooth and given me something to write with.

Postscript

In the fallout of the American chocolate renaissance, Halloween-pail stalwarts (your tired, your poor, your Hershey's and your Mars) assumed dark-chocolate airs with bittersweet twists on kiddy classics. In fact, intergalactic efforts were made to convert the skeptics. When a Star Wars movie was released, Darth Vader implored children to Join the Dark Side... of M&Ms. Well, you can comply with the Dark Lord for kicks. All I can say is his wares are not too good for Halloween.

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Note: for the primary source on Debt Ed, please be sure to visit the United States Code at Title 11, sections 109(h), 111, 521(b), and Federal Rule of Bankruptcy Procedure 1007(b)(7). Or not.