Doobie Brothers 3-26-14: Wheeling, WV - Wesbanco Arena

Yesterday, I got the call.  "Metalmale here.  What do you think about this Doobie Brothers concert?  You going?"

"Yeah sure, let's meet up at Nail City around 6:25 p.m. and we'll survey the scene."

We both snagged some side-by-side parking spots in the Intelligencer lot.  I call this particular move the "DND."  Technically, it's referred to as the billion dollar "Dueling-Nutting-Dumpster" park job.

Not much luck in the early going.  One woman mocked us by eating her ticket.  Not exactly like this Florida crimestopper dude, but you get the drift.

Anyway, we pleaded our case to the legions of faithful 1970's holdouts.  "We need a free Doobie," I beckoned.  "Just one doobie.  Can anybody help us score a doobie?"  I was a tiny bit worried the Wheeling PD might pull up and see my sign.

What if I had to eat the sign?  What if I had to consume the evidence?  This thing was made of turgid cardboard.  It's not like eating a memo or a parking ticket.  I loathe the taste of cardboard, especially when it's pre-doobie on a Wednesday.

Eventually, a kindred soul gave us an extra.  Then, this woman gave us two more.  Sweet.  So now we actually had three doobies even though we only needed two doobies.  I tried to sell off the third but had no success.

There was a man standing on the corner with a backpack of high-end lighters.  Promotional giveaways for his store "Almost Heaven Hydroponics" --- a new gardening store next to the Big Lots in Bridgeport, Ohio.  He assured us that the business had nothing to do with marijuana.  Many questioned his veracity, but he held firm in the face of multiple grassy accusations.

So we skipped the opening act and had a beer at Nail City.  I watched in envy as a large man with a tremendous stomach sampled from the private buffet.  It was roughly the size of the American Dream Dusty Rhodes' midsection.

A thick layer of creamy white skin with a reddish hue emanated from under his t-shirt.  At one point, his gock lightly grazed a chicken finger.  A bowl of ranch dressing was dangerously close.  What if the gock had been dipped in ranch?  Would I call the health department on Nail City?  No.  Such activity is the norm at this place.  Nail City blows.

We finished our beers and headed over.  We ran into a few familiar faces, but for the most part, these people looked unfamiliar.  As expected, the place was pretty much deserted.  Out of a max crowd of around 8,500, I'd estimate the attendance around 1,800.  Maybe 2,000 tops.  Giant chunks of orange seats and missing swiss cheese-like holes on the floor.  I felt kinda bad for the Doobies.  The embarrassment wasn't  a shocker.  It was kinda anticipated.  They should have played the Capitol. 

Nonetheless, the Doobies strolled onto stage.  Oddly enough, for a band with that many players, you'd think they get rid of one of the drummers.  Still not sure why their band necessitated two drummers.  Maybe they were mimicking the Dead.  I do not know.

One highlight for me was a coagulation of miscellaneous coat hangers near the Nailers/Swing Club VIP club.

I demand a greater level of conformity and quality control from the Wheeling Civic Center staff in future coat hanging endeavors.  There's a reason nobody's willing to use this rack.  Just look at this amateurish display of filth.  Further evidence...

The pictures don't do it justice.

I toyed with the idea of turning it into a spectacle.  You know, coat hangers all fuckin' tangled up in dat shit.  All up in dat Wesbanco hizzy.  But just couldn't find the enthusiasm.  Probably would have gotten arrested because of some obscure statute - malicious, wanton rearrangement of tinny objects.

If you're a doobie fanatic, I'm pretty sure this was the set list.  I did a search.  I couldn't find the one from Wheeling, but they all look pretty much the same.

1. Jesus Is Just Alright
   (The Art Reynolds Singers cover)
2. Rockin' Down the Highway
3. Take Me in Your Arms (Rock Me a Little While)
   (Kim Weston cover)
4. Dependin' On You
5. Clear as the Driven Snow
6. A Brighter Day
7. World Gone Crazy
8. Neal's Fandango
9. Slat Key Soquel Rag
10. South City Midnight Lady
11. Eyes of Silver
    (With Guy Allison Keyboard Solo)
12. Takin' It to the Streets
13. Don't Start Me Talkin'
    (Sonny Boy Williamson cover)
14. Black Water
15. Long Train Runnin'
16. Encore:
16. China Grove
17. Road Angel
18. Listen to the Music

I'll be honest.  They sounded pretty damn good.  Perfect volume, which is rare these days.  Most bands try to compensate their suckiness by shattering everyone's tympanic membranes.  And they had the right amount of energy.  Not too subdued and not too over-the-top.

And since I'm being honest, I should confess one important fact.  I really can't stand this band.  Maybe it was the "Jesus Is Just All Right" opener.  Maybe the fact that I've been forcibly fed their music on Eagle 107.5 for most of my adult life, much like the tubes stuck down the throats of Gitmo detainees.  I'm sure some of these terrorists still have actionable intelligence on the whereabouts of Bin Laden 13 years later (didn't our govt. claim he's dead?).  Maybe I've just grown tired of the swooning classic rock.

Foghat, Steppenwolf, Bad Company... who the fuck actually enjoys listening to this shit.  It's exhaustive.  Sometimes I literally jump out of a hot, pulsating shower and turn off my little clock radio.  I'm not joking.  This musical genre is that bad.

So we bolted about the 6th song in.  While walking to our cars, some hulking weirdo emerged from the darkness.  "Hey, Big Dog!  Big Dog, wait a minute!"  For the love of fucking christ, some downtown douchebag was trying to bum money from us.  We purposely kept our back to him.  Additional chants of "Big Dog."  I finally spoke up, "We do not wish to participate.  We do not want to talk to you."  He mumbled a final lamenting "Big Dog" and turned back.

We hit the Grindhouse for open mic night and were regaled with the most haunting rendition of Neil Diamond's Cracklin Rosie.  "Play it now, play it now, play it now."  I actually liked it.  Metalmale didn't care for the guy's voice.  In culinary terms, I'd describe it as crushed ice on a bed of plain white rice.  The most stoic, straightforward, bland expressionless voice I've ever heard in my life.  But that in itself, is cause for some degree of merit. 

Suffice to say, here's how I ranked the evening in descending order.

1) Play it now.  
2) Coat hangers (hopefully none were used to perform Eoff Street, back alley abortions)
3) Doobie Brothers
4) Big Dog


All in all, not bad for a Wheeling Wednseday.  I've had worse.

Dayton - Michigan State - Wisconsin - Mercer

I'm making my picks for the final four.  Albeit, a tad late.

In the South, I'm going with streaking Dayton.  Mostly for sentimental reasons, if they go the distance I could envision a quick road trip.

In the East, gotta go with Michigan State.  Not only did Obama pick 'em, but the future President of the NCAA will be Lou Anna K. Simon (the would-be first ever female NCAA President - my pick to succeed Mark Emmert).  She's the current leader of Michigan State University (the one with the nerve to author an official response to my concerns about outdated emergency evacuation protocol, AFTER HAVING DELETED a portion of the initial email I sent her).  So yeah, gotta root for the Spartans.  Maybe if they win the championship, it will cast a light upon her egregious behavior.

And if you believe in the nobility of Lou Anna Simon, I'd like to sell you the Wheeling Suspension Bridge.  I don't have the actual deed... but back in 1991 I was walking across the bridge around 2am and some kid stuck his head out of the moon roof of a Honda Accord and threw a full can of Busch Light Draft at me.  It hit me in the shoulder leaving a slight bruise.  He yelled, "Fuck youuuu!"  So even though I don't have the necessary paperwork, there is a sentimental attachment, the validity of which shalt not be questioned.

In the West, I'll take Wisconsin.  I've always been a big Badgers fan, particularly of their football team.  Camp Randall Stadium was home to a minor human stampede.  In 1993, fans stormed the field after a 13-10 upset over Michigan leaving about 70 people injured, 6 of them critically, no fatalities.  Google it - my shit comes up.

In the "Midwest" region, I'll take the Mercer Bears from the deep South --- Macon, Georgia to be precise.  I like Macon purely because it rhymes with bacon.  Few cities rhyme with non-kosher meat.  Although the little town of Piney Fork, Ohio loosely rhymes with briny pork.  I once asked for directions out that way.  A toothless, puzzled yokel stared me down, "Youz in the foothills of Piney Fork."

After Mercer put the beatdown on Duke, you just have to pull for 'em.  I'll even overlook the explicit religious fervor of their born-again head coach. 

So my Final Four is Dayton vs. Michigan State and Wisconsin vs. Mercer.

Now I'll venture back into a dimension of quasi-realism and take Michigan State vs. Wisconsin in the final.

And I'm gonna go with MSU, strictly on the basis that it could expose the evil-doings of their Janet Napolitano-resembling President, Lou Anna K. Simon.  May she rot in hell.

Alright, one more meme since UConn advanced yesterday over Villanova.

A fitting tribute to Warren Buffett's extremely generous billion dollar bracket challenge.  There's no need to worry.  Even if he had lost, he had taken out an insurance policy through his shell company - Berkshire Hathaway.  What a businessman!  I saw the last odds of a perfect bracket at 1 in 9.2 quantillion.

That's the equivalent of getting struck by lightning twice in your lifetime, in the exact same spot, while having an orgy with the cast members of the Golden Girls on both occasions.  And yes, that includes the corpse of Estelle Getty (Sophia) thus implying multiple incidents of illegal grave extraction and necrophilia.

Go Spartans.  Woot!  Woot!
  

March Madness Memes

Alright, here's a couple NCAA opening round memes.  One from Thursday and one from Friday.

I used to go to University of Dayton.  I recall when they went to the Elite 8 back in 1989.  The student housing section went ballistic.  I'll never forget the Phi Beta Alpha frat guys on Kiefaber Avenue hauling a couch into the middle of the road.  There were a ton of fires that night all throughout the ghetto (that's the "term of endearment" used to describe the miscellaneous homes of the miscreants).

Best news of all, Duke has been eliminated by Mercer.  No... not Mercer County, PA.  Gigi and I were wondering where the hell the Mercer Bears are from.  We probably should have been able to figure it out by the tone and tenor of their head coach.  "Our prayers have been answered!"  "Thank the Lord, praise his name!"  Ugghhh.

The Bears hail from Macon, Georgia.  Go figure.

But I don't mind, the Blue Devils have been relocated back to hell.  Their demise reminds me of this clip from Braveheart.  It's when the whole crowd starts chanting MERCY.  Then of course, the executioner dude chops up Mel Gibson into more pieces than the jigsaw puzzle currently scattered throughout my kitchen table.

I like this meme better --- superior viral potential.  The other one has too much info.  Or go with this one.  Tough choice.

 

or

This third one is decent too.  As someone who doesn't care much for college hoops, I say FUCK IT.  I'm jumping on the Mercer bandwagon.

This one's predictably low brow.

Ukraine crisis... through the eyes of Seinfeld

Gigi asked me yesterday, "Eric, what's really going on in the Ukraine?"

Well, it's kind of complex.  The country has entered into a volatile, unstable period.  Most of the western region feels the economic tug of the European Union.  But the political power structure and Eastern territories are closely allied with Russia.  So you obviously have the elements for a protracted conflict.  Factor in the economic interests (gas and oil) and foreseeable inflationary issues.  Uprisings and civil war might seem inevitable.

The Ukranian prime minister, "Arseniy Yatsenyuk " whom most Americans probably know as the "Artist Formerly Known as Beet Borscht," has either fled the country or is in hiding.

Echoes of the cold war, but think of it as a new Food Network TV show --- SOUP WARS.  Hot vs. Cold.  Salty vs. Spicy.  Creamy cum-like vs. Brothy urinary.

Think of Arseniy as Arsenio Hall, But let's call him Arsenio Hell, in soup-Nazi form.  A cold, red-blooded Eastern European dictator but he's white (signified by the tasty dollop of sour cream).  And although he might be a ruthless bastard, Arseniy (with a "y") is vastly less annoying than this resurgent, over-hyped douchebag.

Now I can die.

Formerly imprisoned female Prime Minister, Yulia Tymoshenko, is rallying the protesters but doesn't want to assume the leadership vacuum.  When it comes to War and Peace, she could take some advice from Elaine Benes.

"War, what is it good for?  Absolutely Nuthin!  Say it Again!"

Naturally, Putin is sending in military forces to "stabilize" the situation in the Crimean region.  So Obama has issued a stern warning.  But it's hard to take Obama seriously since he was responsible for the surge of troops in Afghanistan.  Think of it like this --- what if Russia decided to invade and occupy Uruguay?  How would that make us feel?  Would it make you go hmmm?  Hey, at least Russia and Ukraine are neighbors.

Here's the deal.  Putin can do basically anything he wants.  And he knows it.  He doesn't have to worry about achieving a grand consensus, political bargaining or external coalition building.  If I had to place a bet on it, my hunch is that Ukraine will be splintered and carved up in the near future --- with the Eastern part aligning themselves with Russia.  But I don't think it will be an all-out war.  I think Putin will accomplish his mission without wide scale bloodshed.  All that KGB training will pay off.  He's more of a tactical, behind-the-scenes, bloodless coup kinda guy.  Instead of Bush who was kind of an in-your-face, wild'n'crazy guy (Steve Martin - no video necessary).

There is one thing we take great comfort in.  And that's knowing how the average American is staying abreast of the unfolding turmoil.  I can prove it - here's the pecking order in level of importance.

1) The potential for a full-blown civil war in the Ukraine.
2) Who wins best supporting male actor at the Oscars (gotta be Jared Leto, transvestite guy in Dallas Buyer's Club)
3) The Flying Tomato Shaun White - Freckled Ginger Hipster Doobie Disappoints in Olympic Snowboarding.

Sensing the undying thirst for knowledge regarding the rich history the Ukraine, we must truly embrace their culture and tumultuous traditions.  And as Americans, here's our best path forward!  A brief 1 minute video tutorial followed by 2 summary memes.  That should be sufficient.

Onto the memes.  They're originals but feel free to steal them if the yearning doth arise.

Now you know all you need to know.  On second thought... oh, what the hell?  How about an obligatory shout-out?

USA! USA! 

There you go.  That feels much better.

Billy Joel concert review - Pittsburgh, Consol Energy Center, 2-21-14

I WANT A 

FREE

CUP OF JOEL

That's what the sign said.  I didn't bother to snap a picture.  We didn't even use it.  Ended up leaving it in a tree by the upper entrance.

Before heading to the show, we feasted on lukewarm homemade chicken pot pie.  The crust was exceptional.  Carrots... check.  The quantity of chicken was relatively minimal.  Potatoes were slightly undercooked, but that was a good thing.  The peas.  Ahh yes, the peas were omnipresent and bursting with country fresh flavor (Seinfeld).  But the consistency is what it's all about.  Do you hear what I am saying (South Park - Butters)?  And it was near perfect.

When I normally think of pot pies, my mind harkens back to those 50 cent Banquet pot pies.  My mother abhorred frozen dinners.  But for some reason I'll never be able to adequately comprehend or codify, she would let us eat those spherical Banquet concoctions.  These days I actually look at the nutritional information.  Yes - 48g of fat.  Hmmm, the sodium content disclaimer is labeled as "unrestricted."  I don't even know what the fuck that means.

So we ventured down to the arena in lightning-like fashion.  There's always a huge line of cars, but somehow, Gigi manages to bypass everything like a vehicular version of dodgeball.

Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, Dodge!  Son, you're about as useful as a cock flavored lollipop!

Free parking as usual at the Church of Black Jesus.  If I ever renounce my skepticism, this will become my church.  And I will tithe the living shit out of it.

We scanned the crowd for extra tickets, but there was nothing.  And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.  Zip.  Nada.  Zilch.  We ran into Scalper Tim and he agreed - the general assessment was very bleak.  But he did end the conversation on a high note.  "You guys will probably get in.  You guys always find a way in."  I humbly nodded in agreement.  But Consol was totally sold-out and there was zero action on the street.

30 seconds later, I spotted an older couple standing against the wall.  I engaged them.  They were a little hesitant, but then Gigi entered the fray and told the man he looked like Tom Bosley.  I shot her the sideways constipated owl look, wondering why on earth would she demean him with this Howie Cunningham fuddie-duddie-father-of-the-year innuendo?  But he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.  After some light banter, he admitted that he might have two extra tickets.  I knew it from the start (scalper's intuition).  Turns out they were from Irwin, PA and his son used to be the production manager for Bruce Springsteen.  Anyway, he had originally purchased tickets for the concert but was also gifted 2 by his daughter.  The alleged extra tickets were at will-call.

So I sent Gigimatic off to seal the deal.  He ended up handing over 2 print-out tickets.  Entirely free of course.  We looked at the receipt total:

Tickets:         2 x $156.00

Service Fee:  2 x $31.20

Delivery:             $15.00

Total:                   $389.40  

I normally say something like Blam! or Ka-Pow! or Sha-Zam! 

To make a long story short, I need to come up some new terminology.  Maybe Fig-Newton! or some kind of Wonder Twin slang (Wonder Jew Powers Activate) or maybe the Danno equivalent "Scotchy Scotch!"  For something of this magnitude, I just need to come up with new shit.

I've always liked Billy Joel.  Seriously, how can you not?  There's a few of his songs I could do without.  I never cared for his mid 80's acapella phase (Uptown Girl, For the Longest Time, that annoying jungle boogie song - In the Middle of the Night, blah, etc.).  But the majority of his stuff evokes much emotion.

Who among us has not heard the repeated jukebox version of "Piano Man" at the Alpha?  Over and over, again and again.  All the Wheeling Jesuit kids crooning in drunken unison, "making love to his tonic and gin."  Again and again, until you die or spontaneously vomit in the hallway restroom amid the acrid stench of incest.

So we went inside and hooked up with our friends Doug and Bridgette.  For some reason, I have this really peculiar eccentricity.  I always call girls named "Ingrid" by the wrong name.  I call them "Bridgette."  And the exact opposite is true.  I mistakenly think girls named "Bridgette" are actually named "Ingrid."  Fortunately, there's only 2 women where this problem surfaces (Josh's wife and Doug's wife).  But for the life of me, I just can't get a handle on the situation. 

So we went to the seats.  Upper Level 205 Row N.  Let me be blunt, I am not a fan of sitting in the properly assigned seats.  Seriously, it's a fucking rock concert.  Not the State of the Union.

Little did we know there was an opening act.  Some kind of American Idolesque, country boy.  Whoopity Doo fuckin dah.  His name was Gavin McGraw or something.  We looked at each other and decided our time was better spent in the concourse watching the concert-pigeons buy $42 t-shirts.  And to top it off, the t-shirts looked really ghetto.  Some kind of Picasso cubist crapulence.  I'll take the extra-medium, please.  Here's my Discover card.  

During the intermission, we headed over to our usual stomping grounds - the best standing room in the house, the overhang of the Captain Morgan Club.  And of course we ran into Franco Harris' son Dok.  Needless to say, there was a healthy dose of stampede talk.  He gets it better than most.  He totally gets the catch-22 and uses all the right words (mitigation, asymmetric, discernible inevitability, malicious intent, etc.).

And if you're wondering what's going on in stampede world,  I'm writing an article for the Risk Assessment Management Society (rims.org - 1,500 words).  But here's the bigger news, yesterday I woke up and checked my email.  There was a brief note from Seth Stone (Oliver Stone's son - yep, the director.  That's the one).   He has a program called lip.tv.  Streams on the internet - mostly conspiracy stuff.  Anyway, he asked what particular aspects of the artificially generated stampede I would be willing to discuss IF they chose to pursue it.  Let's just say I chose to respond.

And I'm going to churn out 2 more articles for the site.  One is an issue I have with the Event Safety Alliance and the other deals with the Paul Ryan response.  That's right.  Mitt Romney's 2012 VP running mate sent me a letter - he thinks I should take up the stampede issue with Wisconsin Governor Rick Walker.  So I did.  I'm still a little surprised he responded.  I'll give him credit - he has more guts than I thought.  I also got a response from another political heavyweight.  Retiring Congressman Henry Waxman (D-CA) who has been around since Watergate --- he thinks I should take my concerns to the California State Health Dept.  Hmmm, I suppose getting trampled to death is a relevant health issue.  After all, I could see how being crush asphyxiated is bad for one's health.  Worse than smoking I suppose.

Alright, the reason you're probably reading this is because you want to hear how the concert was.  I'll sum it up with a word that doesn't exist... ANTHEMIC.  Billy Joel is truly the consummate entertainer.

The highlight for me was the second song outta the gate - "Pressure."  This is one of the best number two songs in the history of live rock concerts.  It's up there with Iron Maiden's "Two Minutes 2 Midnight."  Everyone loves a great opener, but I'm always lit up by the second song.  For me, that's the one that defines the evening.

Definitely one of my favs.  Other highlights for me were "Allentown" and the theme to Bosom Buddies...

Pretty much the whole show.  Even the slower, mushified stuff was spectacular.  Ironically, I'm not a fan of his closing tune "Only the Good Die Young."  I prefer the Iron Maiden version.

And check it out... Gigi scored a copy of the setlist while me and Doc were jammering back and forth about the inevitable trajectory of humanity and technology.

He encored with "Big Shot" too.  But for some reason, it's not on the list.  But I will not stand in judgement.  For he is THE ENTERTAINER.  Well... let's just say he entertained the living fuck out of us last night.

And as for the couple from Irwin, you'll be getting a thank you note and some personalized hemp key chains in the mail.

#flipadistrict poem about David McKinley (R-WV) - 1st district

I wish to convey, some critical information
To all the citizens, of this once great nation

The mode of delivery, will be poetry and rhyme
About multiple disasters, transpiring in real time

Our First Amendment rights, offer excellent reach
For a writer and activist, with a commitment to preach

The subject is dangerous, but I cannot resist
It's all about a word, that doesn't currently exist

An act of pure evil, an incomprehensible deed
A cascade of terror, I've termed it... dominipede

Synthetic fear, minds of throngs sharply penetrated
Resulting in bodily crushes, that are artificially generated

Assaults relying heavily, on timing and information
coupled with herding instincts, and the risk of predation

A dependence on ignorance and a population adrift
New tactics of warfare, a generational shift

An untouchable issue, a test for humanity
designed to play off, our collective insanity

My representative knows all about it, but he's unwilling to share
He personally would not benefit, so why would he care?

I certainly have issues, with his lack of accountability
his moral standards, in the face of discernible inevitability

Our state has the politician, we surely must rid
His last name's McKinley, his first name's David

The first district of West Virginia, he currently rules
an ideal stomping ground, for his minions and fools

In all honesty, and with a certain merry candor
McKinley rose to power, largely through gerrymander

I really don't like him, or so it would seem
He's a hardcore conservative, a tea party wet dream

The only aspect, I'm unwilling to bash
Is his trademark distinction, that peculiar mustache

I applaud your contest, this whole "flip a district"
But outta the entire House, IT IS HIM WE MUST EVICT

And one last thought, upon which I'll delicately delve
The location was Pittsburgh, in two thousand and twelve

My girlfriend bought tickets, for our hero Bill Maher
With seats in the balcony, we watched from afar

It hurts me to say this, it takes all the courage I can muster
Bill... your stand-up that night, was really lackluster

#flipadistrict
http://agsaf.org

NFL related Sopranos memes

I made some minor improvements to the Chris Christie NFL meme.

It got me to thinking.  If there's one thing I know, it's the Sopranos.  With the unfortunate passing of James Gandolfini, I bet there would be ample interest in some Sopranos trivia as it relates to the National Football League.  So I made a bunch.  They're still a work in progress.  Disclaimer: if you don't know shit about the Sopranos, these won't make much sense.

The new stadium in Santa Clara is supposed to be bad ass.  I checked out the schematics.  It is.

I debated whether or not "lodge" should be replaced with "boxes of ziti," but it was just too much clutter and information.

Yep - the big shocker.  Vito's a fag.  His body was found at a hotel in Fort Lee, New Jersey.  Cops said that Vito had a pool stick shoved up his ass.  I wonder if it was chalked.

Heaviest player in the NFL?  Fughetaboutit.  Gotta go with the Andy Reid substitution for Ginny Sac.

One of my favorite Soprano moments.  Paulie finally gets a taste of Italy, but he didn't care for the cuisine, particularly the octopus. 

Right before Janice threateningly puts a bullet in his sternum.  Richie puts down a "New Jersey Bride" magazine and warns her, "I'm in no mood."

I tried to put a comma after "Any Way You Want It," but the meme thingie wouldn't cooperate.

Christopher is worried that his life isn't going as planned.   He asks Big Pussy, "Where's my arc?"  He looks at Christopher and says, "You know who had an arc?  Noah."

I might make some more of these.  They're very addicting.

and back, by lackluster demand

Four, count 'em 4 more pseudo-relevant Super Bowl memes... courtesy of sonofsaf.

I think this one has viral potential...

This one does not.

And neither does this one...

But I like it.  Jerome is truly a victim of circumstance.  Too many Steelers already in the greater Akron area.

I doubt most people, other than knowledgeable NFL fans, have ever heard of NFL punter Ray Guy or Cardinals defensive back Aeneas Williams.  To be honest, I think this guy (not Ray Guy) should have been the first punter inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame.

That's what time it is!  Well... time it was I suppose.  He passed away in 2005.

Super Bowl Memes

It has been a bad couple of days.  I had a gas line rupture outside my house.  Fortunately, it didn't happen during that polar vortex shit.  My neighbors, "Feed Me Clothe Me Bathe Me," came to my temporary rescue with gourmet chili and 2 space heaters.  And of course, there's Gigi - coming to my permanent rescue 24/7.  Heart symbol.

The whole incident gave me a better appreciation for hot water.  And that's in addition to the ongoing on/off City of Wheeling water pressure issues.  I'm beginning to wonder if this could be the inevitable result of stampede-enlightenment-karma-backfire.  Say that 10x fast.

You wanna know something?  While voluntarily trapped in the cold house with a cold cat, I watched an HBO documentary about the brilliant Washington Post political cartoonist Herb Block.

I strongly recommend checking this out.  Really well done.  Very introspective, calmly inspiring, but at the same time, mind-numbingly powerful and passionate.  

It made me reflect on how quickly the world changes and how the sheeple continue to remain oblivious.  They never see the bigger themes... the black swans, if you will.  Instead, it's all about saving money on car insurance.  It's all about the weather.  Or worse, the latest news in the ongoing Justin Beiber saga.  Did forensics extract fingerprint evidence from the busted eggshells?  Will he be overshadowed by the Bruno Mars halftime show?  Will the White House address the deportation petition?  Sad.

Herb Block was a true visionary.  Watch the documentary and you'll quickly discover that this ONE man did more to shape U.S. government policy than a hundred members of Congress.  Hell, you could make a credible argument that he alone was responsible for balancing the entire legislative, executive and judicial branches.  Not a joke.

Anyway, I felt kind of despondent about some of the latest memes I've been expelling into the internet machine.  Herb would spend 12 hour days in an office, toiling and perfecting all these messages of incredible significance and consequence.  And then there's me... thinking about all the Super Bowl silliness.  I get a concept in my head, do a google image search and then visit a meme generating website named after building a cheeseburger.  And then I spend about 25-30 seconds arranging the font and layout.  What say you?  Sound familiar?  Yep... I'm just one of the sheep being led to the slaughter.

So without further adieu, here are some pretty decent ones.  I'm going to post the Peyton Manning one on facebook!  Maybe it'll get 7 likes.  The thought of Herb Block deservedly vomiting on me from the orbital heavens... now that's my kind of inspiration.

How about a break from the Superbowl?  Here's one for the cruise industry.

I'll be rooting for the Seahawks tonight.  But I just have a hard time fathoming a scenario where the Omaha-Brouhaha-Rock the Casbah-Ayatollah-Assholla doesn't win the Bacardi-Hearty-Lombardi-Party.

All things being equal, I hope the NFL poster boy gets a concussion.  More good karma is definitely on the way.

Cathy Mitchell Takes a Dump

There's a dark secret I've been hiding all these years.  Back in the early 80's, Cathy Mitchell (the elderly infomercial foul temptress) and I had a torrid love affair.

I was tender, impressionable youngin.  God-damnit!  Those were my sticky buns!  But alas, she was only emboldened by my sexual naivete.  She had the finely tuned instincts of a sage grandmother and the gaseous estrogen of a stampeding wildebeest in heat.

She groomed me with a Bar Mitzvah gift.  That's right!  A vintage Ready-Set-Go skillet sealed the deal.  And the coup de gras --- I opened the present and discovered a mystery envelope: a $100 Krogers gift certificate accompanied with a note that cryptically read...

"I'm ready for you to set me off.  Let's go."

Love ya kid, Catheter

For the love of god, she was using food as a weapon.  Much like the Somali warlords in the movie Blackhawk Down.

Strange tangent: Last week I was having lunch with friends Mark and Ted.  I had just eaten breakfast, so TJ's Sportsgarden seemed like an ideal choice.  TJ's uses food as a weapon too.  I ended up just getting a side salad so I wasn't sitting there looking like a complete douchebag.  The salad was marginally acceptable if you're hip on a gulag of drenched iceberg.

Anyway, somehow we got on the subject of Bar Mitzvahs.  Ted asked me how much I pocketed off mine.  Normally, I'd exercise a little more discretion with content like this, but I think someone actually might find the precise dollar amount to be interest.  Safe to say, I've seen far more controversial content on the internet.

$3,400

Remember, this is a "Jewboychick" from Wheeling, West Virginia circa 1983.  Not too shabby.

I can't recollect the exact breakdown.  But if memory serves me correct...

$500 savings bond from my godfather (incredibly wealthy individual from Philly - Cadillac dealerships).  Roughly another $750 or so in other misc. savings bonds from about 10 different relatives.  And a slew of personal checks and cash ranging in amounts of $20 - $50 (mostly from congregation members and friends of my parents).

Ironically, the most prized gift was from my neighbors across the street.  They gave me a year's subscription to 2 different pro wrestling magazines (Inside Wrestling and The Wrestler).  Mere words cannot describe my joy.  I expound further on this in the prologue of my auto-biography.

One other anecdote and I'll drop the subject, or Torah, if you will.  Because if you drop a Torah I think you have to go without food and water for 40 days.  Just punishment for an acne-covered teen in the latter stages of puberty.

In addition to the $500 savings bond (an ungodly sum for a 13 year old in 1982), he also sent me an autographed football from the entire 1982 Philadelphia Eagles football team.  Ron Jaworski, Tony Franklin (the barefoot kicker), Wilbur Montgomery and my hero at the time (defensive lineman Frank LeMasters - only because I saw a highlight reel of him recovering a fumble and running it in for a game-winning touchdown).  Anyway, when I got the football, me and my neighbor friends Dave and Matt went outside and started punting and throwing it around.  While this was happening, my godfather called and asked my mother if I'd received the gift.  Glancing out the kitchen window, she was casually like... "Oh yeah, they're all in the backyard playing with it right now!"  Of course he shrieked, "Jesus Christ!  That's a collector's item!"  Two decades later, he passed.

I kept the football until shortly after 9/11.  Gave it to my buddy who's a big Eagles fan.  It's all beaten to hell, deflated and badly scuffed.  Sucked.  End of story.

Now onto more important matters.  And that's CATHY MITCHELL and her "DUMP CAKE" infomercial.

I love these guys.  Total real-world, dorm room infomercial pioneers w/ just a subtle touch of Beavis and Butthead.  I watch it three times.  I cried (which is rare).

Some background here is critical.  If you do a google search on "cathy mitchell," a blog I wrote back in 2009 appears on the MAIN PAGE.  Now keep in mind, this is GOOGLE we're talkin' about.  Not Lycos or some Alta Vista shit.  My blog shows up in the first 10 fucking entries!  In my opinion, that's kinda crazy!  After all, a search on the words "cathy mitchell" is pretty generic stuff.

The best part is the comment section.  I truly believe it's the real Cathy Mitchell who weighs in.  My best advice is to read actual blog and make your own determination.  In the past decade of personal blogging, this one easily stands out.  I normally don't plug my past writings (except the book), but this one's actually worth it.  Relatively harsh but kind of amusing.  The comment section is what makes it.

Four years later, Cathy Mitchell has baked her way back into my life.  Now if I was legitimately baked (stoned), it would be one thing.  But I assure you, I'm completely sober.  Hell... such a typed internet admission can get you fined and/or imprisoned in the current West Virginia police state.

So Saf, what the hell is your problem with her "Dump Cakes?"  You're probably thinking: I happen to enjoy a moist pound cake from time to time.  Well... not to be overly prudish, but don't most people equate the word "dump" with "taking a dump?"  Isn't it comparable to the vernacular of "taking a shit?"  I can't be the only one out there who thinks this.  Personally speaking, if I were to announce the movement of my bowels, here's my preference in descending order.

I'm going to...

1) Take a shit
2) Go poop
3) Take a crap
4) Take a dump
5) Pinch a loaf

Even worse (as if it can get any worse from a fecal marketing perspective), isn't a "dump" the slang term for the city landfill?  You know, the final depository for medical waste, used prophylactics and discarded mush from any Long John Silvers.

Cathy is so blatantly proud of her dump cakes.  Her repetitive use of the word "dump" throws the viewer into some kind of "scatlike-trance."  When she pours in the can of diet soda, for a second I thought she might say, "If you want, you can substitute pee-pee."

Furthermore, I really don't have a clear cut understanding of what she's actually selling.  Is it her kindergarten recipes?  Is it the no-stick skillet?  Is it the fucking cake batter mix?  Aside from the gross sexual imposition in 1983, why does this woman haunt me in my dreams?

Alright, I'm Cathy Mitchelled out.  So let's close it off with 2 Super Bowl predictions.

The first -
There will not be an artificially generated stampede.

The second -
It has been reported that the Red Hot Chili Peppers will be joining Bruno Mars (the secret love child of Erik Estrada and Penelope Cruz).  An aside --- Gigi's friend Carla wishes to fornicate with Bruno Mars.  Back to the prediction.  I'm going way out on a limb with this one.  Flea, the annoying RHCP bassist, has a penchant for going commando or occasionally wearing a diaper.  So without further adieu, here's the boldest prognostication in the history of Halftime Super Bowl entertainment.

Remember, it's going to be sub-zero temps.  So strutting around on stage naked seems appropriate.

Flea will be wearing a codpiece - similar to this.

(But don't confuse the two.  Flea isn't fit to wear Blackie Lawless' jock... let alone his codpiece).

So here it is --- When he takes the stage, Flea will have a bedazzled, sparkling jeweled butt plug pre-inserted into his ass.  At the conclusion of a rocking "Give it Away," Flea will rip out the marital aid and literally give it away by tossing it into the audience.  This move will instantly replace the Miley Cyrus perpendicular tongue "twerk jerk."  Flea will follow it up with a late night after party tweet.  He'll regale the world with photos of his cock and the aforementioned Doc Johnson device.

This historic moment and impending social media craze will be hailed from 2014 onward as  
"tweet your meat."  It will cement the Chili Peppers in the "anals" of halftime history.  And if you don't like it, you can suck on Janet Jackson's fake nipple.

Incidentally, I got a letter today from "congressional watchdog" Henry Waxman (D-CA).  He thinks I should take up my artificially generated stampede concerns with the California Department of Public Health.  Suffice to say, I was totally unprepared for that one.  Not joking.  I can see why the California population values his commitment to public service.

Okay.  We're done here.  Final Superbowl prediction.

Broncos  34
Seahawks  28 

But I'll be rooting for the Seahawks.  A friend of mine refers to Peyton Manning as "he-who-must-not-be-named."  I'm beginning to see the wisdom.  I don't want that pristine yokel uttering those celebratory words... "I'm going to Disneyland."  I'd prefer it if he said, "I'm going to watch Cathy Mitchell take a dump!"

Sochi Olympics meme

I think this one has serious viral potential.  I made it this morning when they issued a warning to all U.S. travelers attending the Sochi Olympics.

I swear to god --- I think this one's almost as good as the current Colorado-Washington "Super Bowl" meme floating around.

Final thoughts on the Elk River fiasco

Wheeling Nailers fans

It has come to my attention that the following meme might be too "confusing" or "cerebral."  I find this ironic.  As a Wheeling resident, and having attended a few Nailers games, I think it's blatantly obvious.  Sooooo, do you garner my inference?

Alright, I'll spell it out for you.  If you head to Wesbanco Arena for one of the minor league hockey games, it quickly becomes apparent that a significant percentage of the fans are "mentally challenged."  I guess here's where it could get a tiny bit confusing.

The question I should be asking --- is the general population aware of the fact that the employees of places like Russell Nesbitt, Northwood Health Systems, etc. are required to refer to their "patients" or "residents" as CLIENTS?  From what I understand, if you disobey this rule, you can actually be fired on the spot.  Even when you're not officially on the clock.  That's right.  Even if someone overhears you talking in a bar, it can be legitimate grounds for termination.

Sounds a bit harsh if you ask me.  I've always thought this kind of stuff had significant ramifications for freedom of speech.  But I guess the same rules could apply to corporate management referring to their employees as "worthless bags of shit."

Mr. Burns always did a fine job of disobeying this prime directive.

He had a penchant for assigning crass descriptions to his workers at the nuclear plant.  Lowly boobs, mindless drones, etc.  I looked for some youtube examples, but nothing was out there.

Gig and I were watching this comedian last night (Lewis C.K.).  Relatively funny stuff - he was exploring the issue of how people in vehicles have a higher degree of confidence in berating the traveling public.  "Fuck you, cocksucker!  I hope you die!"  Is that really necessary when someone high beams you or doesn't use a turn signal?  Amazing how much confidence people have when they're operating 2,000 lb. machinery.

I'm not trying to make the political statement of the century.  Just something that crept into my head.

AFC/NFC Championship Games

An excerpt from my blog last week...

So here's my take ---

Wildcard round is for upsets.  Divisional round is for favorites.  Championship games are for drama.
And the Super Bowl... is for posers.

I'll even predict the lines for the AFC/NFC title games:

San Francisco at Seattle (-3.5)
New England at Denver (-7)


Totally nailed the NFC line.  I knew there'd be a half point hook.  And guess what, the AFC title game opened at Denver -6.5.  It has since dropped to -4.5.  Probably because Brady has historically owned Manning and the Denver defense is pretty banged up.


Both games should be decent.  I think the upset will be San Francisco.  They just seem to have the "destiny" tag this year

I think all those injuries finally expose the Patriots.  Belichick will have plenty of tricks up his sleeve, but at some point, you need those veteran players in the big game.  Especially when it's on the road.  Unless Manning has a complete collapse and throws 2 or more interceptions, I think Denver will outlast them.

Score Predictions:

49ers - 20
Seahawks - 17

Broncos - 31
Patriots - 23 



Anyhoo, I'm having people up for the games.  I haven't had a legitimate gathering of the mongrel hoard in over a year.  3 pm onward.  This year's theme - Takin' it to the streets, McDonald style.  Pink slimin', happy meal eatin', playground pissin', catsup spillin', mother fuckin', sayin' Thank You... For a real good time.

I was thinking about the ongoing Chris Christie debacle.  And now, they're investigating the misuse of Hurricane Sandy relief funds.  Moral of the story - I think Christie is fucked.  I have to wonder if this hatchet job has all been a carefully orchestrated by the Hillary Clinton team.  After all, he is one of the few viable candidates who could challenge her ascension to the presidency.  Hey... there's no law against decimating your opponent before he/she officially throws their hat in the ring.

 I was going to write a Chris Christie strategy for overcoming this whole mess, but I don't think it would do him any good.  My only piece of advice would be to make every effort to rename, or "rebrand" the current bridge scandal.  Rather than, Bridgegate or the New Jersey Bridge Scandal or the Chris Christie Bridge Scandal ---- you need to get the press (in this case, Fox News) to start calling it the "George Washington Bridge Scandal."

Most people have a favorable impression of George Washington.  They tend not to view our heroic first president in a negative light.  So by the time 2016 rolls around, there wouldn't be as bad a stigma.  Shit... American voters can't remember stuff that happened two years ago, let alone two weeks ago.  Despite his slave owning, hemp growing, wig wearing shenanigans, pretty much everyone loves George Washington.  His name combined with the perception of scandal just doesn't hold water.

But that's really all I got.  Well that... and you desperately need to change the narrative.  Your best hope is for a national disaster or some other crisis that alters the prevailing mission of the media.  Maybe you could somehow get a towering Dennis Rodman to spontaneously vomit on Kim Jong Un or get a jailhouse Jerry Sandusky to sodomize a younger inmate.  It's a tough one.  Christie needs a distraction.  Something will inevitably come along, but by then, it will probably be too little, too late.

And to be honest, Christie lacks the temperament and gravitas to be our next president.  He's just not "there."  Too bad - I was looking forward to see him fend off pro-life, anti-gay rhetoric in the primary debates.  Talk about free, high-end entertainment!

And how could you not love that Rand Paul comment?

 “I know how angry I am when I’m in traffic.  I wonder, who did this to me?"

Now there's a classic!  Who did this to me?  Well, of course!  Who among us, when stuck in traffic, does not seek out specific individuals to cast blame upon? 

Funny aside, I was in a traffic jam just a couple weeks ago.  I went to a party at Danno and Jean-Anne's and got stuck in that putrid Festival of Lights Oglebay Park Christmas bullshit.  So Saffy, who did you blame?  Naturally, I went straight to the source - I placed the blame squarely on baby Jesus.  Without his death or rebirth or reaffirmation or regurgitation or whatever, it would have been smooth sailing (or in this case, driving).

Central WV water contamination

This meme would be much better if Marco Rubio was currently in the spotlight.  His coinage has diminished with the Chris Christie bridge scandal and Rand Paul sniping.

Maybe it's a good thing for Rubio.  After all, it's a little too early in the 2016 presidential run.  I think you want to be on the sidelines for now.  Or at least until you get wind of an official Hillary announcement.  Then, you jump in.  You won't steal her thunder but it does offer the appearance (or illusion) that you're her primary opponent in the general.  At least that's how I'd play it.

I might do a meme about the Target credit card security breach.  But their logo makes it painfully obvious and shows a mesmerizing lack of creativity.

Alright, one additional meme with good 'ol boy, Governor Earl Ray Tomblin...

Chris Christie Bridge Controversy

Seems like the media, particularly MSNBC, is going after the Fort Lee bridge controversy.  It's amusing how this really isn't that big of a story, BUT... it will likely become one.

Looks like Christie has a case of "schizophrenic road rage."  The funny thing - he's not on I-95.  He's fuming from the palatial governor's mansion.

It's all kind of ironic.  After all, doesn't he travel exclusively by helicopter?

I actually like Chris Christie.  American politics could use an obnoxious loudmouth, especially during the presidential election cycle.  It's refreshing.  If you want some real comedy, just wait til he starts trying to appease the religious right during the Republican primary, especially in Iowa and Georgia --- he'll start loving on Jesus and become instantly reborn (Atlantic City style). 

Maybe he could go the self-deprecation route...