Monday, February 21, 2011

Completely bizarre

I ran across this website

They have a copy of my recent blog about Brad Paisley. But it has been substantially altered. The phrasing and word selection have this crazy "broken English" feel. I'm certain this was accomplished by some kind of linguistic computer translation/substitution program, but I have no idea how or why this would occur. My best guess is that it was translated into a foreign language and then re-translated back into English.

Read the article for yourself. I've pasted their rendition below. Fascinating.


I just flipped on the annual Daytona 500 on Fox. Lo and behold, it’s my contingent Brad Paisley. You see, everyone in this God isolated locality has a Brad Paisley story. Ohh, you used to change Brad’s diapers. you used to go feeshun’ with Brad out the crick. his first partner Jenny Jeffers is my aunt Jenny. Yeah, you get it. Trust me, you get it.

But here’s the genuine truth. you was the authority who jump-started his deep career. and you almost consequence monetary arrangement but I’m willing to let it slide. When you was a girl during Linsly High School, we had this annual finally called the Linsly Extravaganza. and what a delightful festival it was. This “extravaganza” was reason every year during the elegant Capitol Music Hall in noble downtown Wheeling. a heated mob of parents, often lawyers and physicians, would fill the venue and go on this crap. When you contend “fill,” that’s a lavish exaggeration. I’d contend the place was about 63% full. That’s around 1,200 out of 2,000.

Anyway, this was the once a year finally where all the Linsly boys would get to “let it all adhere to out.” Probably not a scold choice of disproportion given 1/4 of the imagination is happy and about 15% of the students were trending homo. Linsly, which was always prying in harnessing everyone’s creativity (as enlarged as it was an try to lift supports for Reagan’s 1984 reelection discuss against Walter Mondale… almost a wash filled initiate vehicle wash would do the trick). once again, not a great feeling unless you’re a movie senior manager specializing in happy porn. my prove – this is was the eventuality for every juvenile masculine during Linsly to radiate (and sparkle, in a Liza Minellish kind of way).

There was all kinds of jubilee during the Extravaganza. usually there would be a humerous party skit. This would bleed a triumphant spattering of deferential applause. you examination one occasion. It was one of those thoughts analgesic “who’s on first, third base” routines. Cumbersome. Weak.

Then you’d have the tumblers. This was about fifteen guys who would do robust stunts. For the finale, one masculine would burst in the air and somersault over everyone. This was radically graceful impressive. At the time, you was bewildered nobody ever pennyless their neck. Not sure if you could get away with that try these days in WV, the self direct litigious heck-hole. What a appalling feeling in which to believe paralysis.
“How did you finish up in that wheelchair?
Poor thing. Hmmm, the Linsly Extravaganza. Hmmmm.
As you silently think, “Not many apply oneself there.”

Then there would be a organization of shirtless organization with faces detailed on their stomachs. In retrospect, this was graceful diverting given it was always the fat kids with exquisite guts. Speaking of guts, I’ve always been a critical proponent of trying to normalize the word “gunt” which is a mixed of stomach and cunt. In a matching vain, I’m trying to mainstream the word “gock.” Gock is simply the enlarged overdue materialisation of gunt: Gock being a mixed of stomach and cock.

Then there was almost a thirteen year elderly magician. Ohhh, how he would enfeeble the mob with tag tricks from an ridiculous distance. or how about the tiny dumbshit kid with a yo yo. honestly, it would have been cold to have the tiny “mild” in advance hecklers in the audience. This has always been a tip mental condition of mine. Sometimes on Maury, you attend to the bellow of the crowd. They have been booing with such ferocity. right during the finish when the receptive to recommendation dissipates, you intermittently attend to “SLUT” or “WHORE” often easeful as a cough. the all-time pleasure was when someone muttered “PEEPING TOM.” you indoctrinate this blog hadf sound, given the feeling in which it was said, the tonal infusion… well, it was in truth a work of art. An listened attainment of extensive intrepidity and unmixed cunning.

Participation in the Extravaganza was mandatory. so everyone had to get involved. the lamest were those who worked “behind the scenes” with the props or set-up. These were the self-admitted losers with definitely no focussed whatsoever. a tie runner-up was the certification choir. see, if you didn’t want to do shit for this shit, you’d hang on the chorus. you was a partial of of the chorus.

Finally, onto the republic aria sensation/Marshall County prime of unequaled proportions. He’d get up and sing that “Bye bye miss American Pie, Drove my Chevy to the levy, til the levy was dry, Spend all day jubilee whiskey and rye, sayin’ this will be the day that you die, this will be the day that you die” song. I’ve always hated this anthem. It just drones on way too long. and worse yet, it encourages a organization sing-a-long dynamic. It’s not that you do not identical to a great sing-a-long. Hell, you have very sexual memories of Jew sing-a-longs.

Draydel, Draydel, you finished it out of clay, Draydel, Draydel, so let’s go out and play.
Perhaps an fatiguing smoothness of Dayenu.
How about that Ha Va Na Gilah, Ha Va Na Gilah, Ha Va Na Gilah be’en Yisrael excrement?
The set-back one you stop is a passover recitation where you repeat this never ending Jewish account of the twelve days of Christmas. This one ends with an elderly masculine regaling us with the virtues of thriftiness. It closes with what he paid for for 10 “Assuzim” or “Messuzim” or something that ends in “uzim.”

Anyway, Brad would sing that Don McLean aria for twelve mins and the mob would immersion him with adulation. you must admit, the kid sounded good. you was a girl during the time, so you think he was almost in 8th grade. everyone would store unstinting courtesy upon Brad. but there was this one asshole who current to be the exception. you was that asshole.

A integrate of times when we spoke I’d say, and you quote, “Brad, you receptive to recommendation great out there, but you unquestionably need to work on letter your own material.” he would reply with, and you quote, “I know Eric, I’m user on it.” we had this design examination during least twice. Other than that, we didn’t have many interaction.

So it was me. you was the one who didn’t intonation his ego. you was the decaying manager who didn’t lift any punches. you was the one. so the successive time you attend to that “Mud on the Tires” change on the radio, think of me. or maybe think of Gil White’s mom who entertainment over my towering and then in to Fuckface’s pool. she got a tiny silt on her tires. but in all honesty, you always liked Brad. he was a great masculine with a appreciative demeanor. and as far as the bubbly beverage cunt-tree aria genre goes, he’s graceful damn good. way better than the Kenny Chesney douche baguette.

One final prove per the Passover Seder. I’m often asked, “Saf, out of all 10 plagues, which one is your favorite.” the answer, “#2 – Plague of Frogs.” Here have been all the 10 fatal plagues. Readers, feel giveaway to name your favorite!

1. Plague of Blood (?ָ?): ex. 7:14–25
2. Plague of Frogs (?ְּ?ַ?ְ?ֵּ?ַ): ex. 7:25–8:11
3. Plague of Gnats (?ִּ?ִּ??): ex. 8:12–15
4. Plague of Wild Beasts (?ָ??ֹ?): ex. 8:20–32
5. Plague of Pestilence (?ֶּ?ֶ?): ex. 9:1–7
6. Plague of Boils (?ְׁ?ִ??): ex. 9:8–12
7. Plague of Hail (?ָּ?ָ?): ex. 9:13–35
8. Plague of Locusts (?ַ?ְ?ֶּ?): ex. 10:1–20
9. Plague of Darkness (??ֹ?ֶ?): ex. 10:21–29
10. Death of the Firstborn (?ַ?ַּ? ?ְּ??ֹ??ֹ?): ex. 11:1–12:36

F’in plagues.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Brad Paisley - the truth

I just flipped on the annual Daytona 500 on Fox. Lo and behold, it's my protege Brad Paisley. You see, everyone in this god forsaken town has a Brad Paisley story. Ohh, I used to change Brad's diapers. I used to go feeshun' with Brad out the crick. His first girlfriend Jenny Jeffers is my aunt Jenny. Yeah, I get it. Trust me, I get it.

But here's the real truth. I was the person who jump-started his musical career. And I probably deserve monetary compensation but I'm willing to let it slide. When I was a junior at Linsly High School, we had this annual event called The Linsly Extravaganza. And what a festive celebration it was. This "extravaganza" was held every year at the venerable Capitol Music Hall in glorious downtown Wheeling. A glowing crowd of parents, mostly lawyers and physicians, would fill the venue and endure this crap. When I say "fill," that's a generous exaggeration. I'd say the place was about 63% full. That's around 1,200 out of 2,000.

Anyway, this was the once a year event where all the Linsly boys would get to "let it all hang out." Probably not a wise choice of words since 1/4 of the faculty is gay and about 15% of the students were trending homo. Linsly was always interested in harnessing everyone's creativity (as long as it was an attempt to raise funds for Reagan's 1984 reelection campaign against Walter Mondale... probably a suds filled student car wash would do the trick). Once again, not a good omen unless you're a movie director specializing in gay porn. My point - this is was the opportunity for every young man at Linsly to shine (and sparkle, in a Liza Minellish kind of way).

There was all kinds of entertainment at the Extravaganza. Usually there would be a comedy skit. This would evoke a triumphant spattering of polite applause. I remember one occasion. It was one of those mind numbing "who's on first, third base" routines. Cumbersome. Weak.

Then you'd have the tumblers. This was about 15 guys who would do athletic stunts. For the finale, one guy would leap in the air and somersault over everyone. This was actually pretty impressive. At the time, I was surprised nobody ever broke their neck. Not sure if you could get away with that stunt these days in WV, the self professed litigious heck-hole. What a horrible manner in which to experience paralysis.
"How did you end up in that wheelchair?
Poor thing. Hmmm, the Linsly Extravaganza. Hmmmm.
As you silently think, "Not much honor there."

Then there would be a group of shirtless men with faces painted on their stomachs. In retrospect, this was pretty comical because it was always the fat kids with larger guts. Speaking of guts, I've always been a major proponent of trying to normalize the word "gunt" which is a combination of gut and cunt. In a similar vain, I'm trying to mainstream the word "gock." Gock is simply the long overdue manifestation of gunt: Gock being a combination of gut and cock.

Then there was probably a 13 year old magician. Ohhh, how he would dazzle the crowd with card tricks from an absurd distance. Or how about some dumbshit kid with a yo yo. Honestly, it would have been cool to have some "mild" renegade hecklers in the audience. This has always been a secret dream of mine. Sometimes on Maury, you hear the roar of the crowd. They are booing with such ferocity. Right at the end when the noise dissipates, you sometimes hear "SLUT" or "WHORE" often disguised as a cough. The all-time triumph was when someone muttered "PEEPING TOM." I wish this blog had sound, because the manner in which it was said, the tonal infusion... well, it was truly a work of art. An auditory achievement of absolute mastery and perfect cunning.

Participation in the Extravaganza was mandatory. So everyone had to get involved. The lamest were those who worked "behind the scenes" with the props or set-up. These were the self-admitted losers with absolutely no talent whatsoever. A close runner-up was the background choir. See, if you didn't want to do shit for this shit, you'd join the chorus. I was a member of the chorus.

Finally, onto the country music sensation/Marshall County hero of unparalleled proportions. He'd get up and sing that "Bye bye Miss American Pie, Drove my Chevy to the levy, til the levy was dry, Spend all day drinking whiskey and rye, sayin' this will be the day that I die, this will be the day that I die" song. I've always hated this anthem. It just drones on way too long. And worse yet, it encourages a group sing-a-long dynamic. It's not that I don't like a good sing-a-long. Hell, I have very fond memories of Jew sing-a-longs.

Draydel, Draydel, I made it out of clay, Draydel, Draydel, so let's go out and play.
Perhaps an exhausting rendition of Dayenu.
How about that Ha Va Na Gilah, Ha Va Na Gilah, Ha Va Na Gilah be'en Yisrael excrement?
The worst one I recall is a passover recitation where you repeat this never ending Jewish version of the 12 days of Christmas. This one ends with an old man regaling us with the virtues of thriftiness. It closes with what he bought for 10 "Assuzim" or "Messuzim" or something that ends in "uzim."

Anyway, Brad would sing that Don McLean song for 12 minutes and the crowd would shower him with adulation. I must admit, the kid sounded good. I was a junior at the time, so I think he was probably in 8th grade. Everyone would heap lavish praise upon Brad. But there was this one asshole who proved to be the exception. I was that asshole.

A few times when we spoke I'd say, and I quote, "Brad, you sound great out there, but you really need to work on writing your own material." He would respond with, and I quote, "I know Eric, I'm working on it." We had this exact conversation at least twice. Other than that, we didn't have much interaction.

So it was me. I was the one who didn't stroke his ego. I was the abrasive mentor who didn't pull any punches. I was the one. So the next time you hear that "Mud on the Tires" tune on the radio, think of me. Or maybe think of Gil White's mom who drove over my hill and then into Fuckface's pool. She got a little mud on her tires. But in all honesty, I always liked Brad. He was a nice guy with a pleasant demeanor. And as far as the pop cunt-tree music genre goes, he's pretty damn good. Way better than the Kenny Chesney douche baguette.

One final point regarding the Passover Seder. I'm often asked, "Saf, out of all 10 plagues, which one is your favorite." The answer, "#2 - Plague of Frogs." Here are all the 10 deadly plagues. Readers, feel free to choose your favorite!

1. Plague of Blood (דָם): Ex. 7:14–25
2. Plague of Frogs (צְּפַרְדֵּעַ): Ex. 7:25–8:11
3. Plague of Gnats (כִּנִּים): Ex. 8:12–15
4. Plague of Wild Beasts (עָרוֹב): Ex. 8:20–32
5. Plague of Pestilence (דֶּבֶר): Ex. 9:1–7
6. Plague of Boils (שְׁחִין): Ex. 9:8–12
7. Plague of Hail (בָּרָד): Ex. 9:13–35
8. Plague of Locusts (אַרְבֶּה): Ex. 10:1–20
9. Plague of Darkness (חוֹשֶך): Ex. 10:21–29
10. Death of the Firstborn (מַכַּת בְּכוֹרוֹת): Ex. 11:1–12:36

F'in plagues.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Tasmanian Devil

Knowing my passion for license plates, my friend Ken generously offered to send me his old plate from Strahan, Tasmania. I was trying to conceive of an informational, artistic project for the house and came up with the following...

People often tell me, "Saf, I wish I could get as far away from you as possible." From now on I'll quickly fire back,
"Well, your destination is Tasmania! That's as far away as you can get. (brief pause)
I'm willing to cover 10% of your airfare."

Then I'll point to the wall in the hallway downstairs...
I'll have both license plates on display and charts directly below.
It will have a top 10 list of the differences between Wheeling and Tasmania so the male/female who voiced their contempt is better equipped to handle the life-altering transition.

For example, diners in Tasmania enjoy crayfish, salmon and orange roughy.
In Wheeling, well there's Coleman's, Long Johns and Filet-o-Fish.

In Tasmania, rafting the Franklin River will challenge even the most experienced adventurer.
Goin' down Big Wheeling Crick could fuck you up!

Tasmania boasts 17 exquisite, pristine beaches.
We got Barkcamp.

Charles Darwin visited Tasmania in 1839.
If Darwin were still alive today, he would have voted for Obama.

The Cataract Gorge is an impressive site near Launceston.
The Anwar Eye Center is located in Moundsville.

Tasmania's motto is "Ubertas et Fidelitas" meaning "Fertility and Faithfulness."
Wheeling's motto originated from the 19th Ho... "Ranch or Bleu"

A cool anagram for Tasmania is "I AM SATAN"
A weak anagram for Wheeling is "WHEEL GIN"

In Tasmania, popular beer brands include Boags & Cascade
In Wheeling, popular beer brands include Bud & Bud Light

The national mascot of Tasmania is the Tasmanian Devil.
The local mascot of Wheeling is Moondog.

The annual food and wine festival is called the "Taste of Tasmania."
We gots the annual Wheeling Chili Cook Off.

You can travel by water on the "Spirit of Tasmania"
Up until it sunk in 1995, you could get drunk at Captain Ed's Floating lounge.

I really need the precise year for the demise of Captain Ed's. Any help would be appreciated. Also, I need to eliminate one of the selections from the Top 10. Any responsible input is welcome.

Foundation For A Better Life

There's a commercial which regularly airs on Fox. It involves the kid who gets "lost" at the symphony. His parents briefly panic but as the curtain opens, little Tommy is on the main stage playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." Anyhoo, the pianist enters and encourages him to continue playing. He chimes in as the crowd relishes in the spontaneity. At the end, they both take a bow.

I'm not kidding or trying to be facetious. This commercial evokes some pretty powerful emotions. If it had an inspirational effect on me, I can't even imagine what it might do to others.

It got me to thinking though - just exactly what is this "Foundation for a Better Life?" Their spots on Fox run virtually non-stop. They have others too.

There's a white emo-kid hanging at the bus stop with an older black lady. As she gets on board the bus, he runs off with her purse. He cuts through back alleys, leaping over puddles, dodging dumpsters... His final destination: he makes it to the next bus stop. When she gets off, he hands her the purse. She's mildly appreciative. Then some cops say "Good work, kid!" and offer him a doughnut. Also, a pretty good commercial. Although, I do wonder why the woman needed to get on the bus just to travel a couple blocks. And why wasn't she concerned about her lost purse? I would have been yelling at the driver, "Let me off! Let me off!" Hypothetically, let's say she was unaware the she had left her purse behind (highly unlikely). She said, "You don't know how worried I was." But look at her expression as she exits the bus. She doesn't appear even remotely phased. And she didn't appear that appreciative either. I remember one time my mother left her purse at a gas station. We were gone about 10 minutes and she started freaking out. We returned to the original location and they had the purse at the register. My mom thanked them profusely and tipped them as well (it was either a 20,50 or a 100 - I don't know for sure, I was only 10 yrs. old or so at the time). The woman in this commercial didn't even offer a reward. At the end, all the kid gets is a doughnut from some cops (kind of peculiar - "Nice move kid, wanna doughnut?")

These commercials all seem to promote universal themes - honesty, compassion, teamwork, trustworthiness, etc. It got me to wondering. Who's spending all this money on this incessant commercial onslaught? Well, it's a guy named Philip Anshcutz. He's a behind-the-scenes industrialist worth about 7 billion. Forbes ranks him as the 34th wealthiest American. He has an incredibly diverse power base. He started in the oil industry but quickly expanded into telecommunications (Qwest), sports franchises (Lakers & several soccer teams), entertainment venues and a plethora of media outlets. He's also a major player in our very own Pennsylvania Marcellus Shale business.

He's known as an "Evangelical Christian" who prefers to maintain a VERY low profile. He was a major campaign donor to the Bush campaigns. So I began to wonder, what other politicians has he bankrolled and will actively promote in the future. Bingo! You guessed it - Mitt Romney. Truth be told, he probably donates to all of them. But Mitt is probably the best bet for the Republican party since they always go with the establishment candidate. The problem with Mitt - if it's a crowded field, he won't fare too well in Iowa (too many flip flops and the rural mid-westerners won't trust a Bostonian). And most Republican primary voters in South Carolina fear the Mormonathon angle. He'll probably take New Hampshire.

My point though - Phillip Anschutz IS the Fox propaganda machine. The Fox network IS the base of the Republican party. If you want to know who the Republicans will nominate in 2012, find out who Phillip Anschutz is backing. He might have a change of heart, but Anschutz will be the determining factor in who gets the nomination. And you locals thought it would be Bob Nutting who had the final say.

Monday, February 14, 2011

the heart symbol

I ♥ Gigi

Happy Valentine's Day! I have ventured into uncharted territory and learned how to make those heart symbols which others find very popular. This is truly unprecedented.

I ♥ you,

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Department of Homeland Spelling




Much appreciation goes out to the Department of Homeland Security. I too am concerned about the accidential exposure of mayonaise at the concessation stands.


Here's your taxpayer dollars at work. This trillion dollar government agency publishes a 73 page report on the ins and outs of evacuating a stadium. Apparently their spell-check doesn't function adequately in these worthless charts. But at the very least, you'd assume that someone would bother to proof read the documents before uploading them to a government website. Perhaps my expectations are over-inflated. Seriously though, what the fuck is this? This level of incompetence makes me think they should bring back the color coded terror alert. After all, that bad mayonnaise could raise the threat level from "elevated" to "severe."

Aside from the spelling errors, to quote my friend Jacinta from St. Andrews Beach, Australia, this entire document is PURE RUBBISH. The whole thing is about bureaucratic ass-covering. So when a stadium panic eventually happens, Janet Napolitano can come out and say, "Well, we have spent considerable time and resources addressing this issue, but regrettably no one could have adequately foreseen the ensuing tragedy."

Seriously though, I read the entire document. Trust me, it's borderline ludicrous. They basically outline every conceivable reason a stadium might need to be evacuated. Well... except for the most likely one. The report sifts through potential weather related issues, chemical weapons dispersal, snipers, truck bombs, even the bad mayonnaise. Haven't they shifted to those indestructible packets in every stadium? Maybe the Dept. of Homeland Security should issue the following alert - "In the interest of national security, the government will immediately begin enforcing a ban on mayonnaise dispensers in all recreational venues nationwide. All mayonnaise dispensation can only occur via packet form. It is our sincere desire to "bring out the best" in all future mayonnaise related endeavors.*

* The Obama administration has no vested financial interest in Hellman's mayonnaise or other Unilever related products.

For some reason I always thought Hellman's was a Kraft product. Enough.

Back to my point, all this report does is outline any potential calamitous event. Then, in their infinite wisdom, they call for increased cooperation between the municipality and first responders. Brilliant! There is no mention whatsoever of what would actually transpire in the case of a sudden emergency evacuation. I say fuck the mayonnaise dilemma, in a mass panic I'd be swiping a handful of jalapeno juice from the concessation stand and rubbing it some old lady's face. Hey, anything to gain additional leverage. But if you want a real joke, check out this emergency stadium evacuation simulation from Dusseldorf, Germany. Who the fuck commissioned this reenactment? What the fuck is this? You must click on this link.

I think they must have collaborated with the U.S. government. What other organization is capable of wasting everyone's time and money? I love how all the color-coded artificial humans march single file out the exit. They should have used blue colored androids. Maybe even have Blue Man Group performing in the background. Just a hint of realism. Is that too much to ask? But honestly, this simulation takes crowd control to a new level of absurdity. Just a couple nights ago, I was climbing over chairs at the crappy Bon Jovi concert at Consol. And there was no panic whatsoever. I just didn't feel like waiting the additional 50 seconds.

Anyway, if you need a good chuckle, go to the Dept. of Homeland of Security's website and search on "stadium evacuation." In good conscience and as a matter of principle, I cannot waste the precious bandwidth on copying and pasting their shit.

I think I'm going to start referring to them as the Department of Homeland Insecurity. Weren't these the same morons who caused a run on duct tape well into 2002? I'll admit though, the shit does come in handy. I will wholeheartedly endorse anything that could be used to muzzle Sarah Palin.

Our beloved Dept. of Homeland Insecurity. Preserving our freedoms, protecting America. What a fucking colossal joke. I only wish I was laughing.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Bon Jehovah / Anchovy

Last night, me and Gig checked out the Consol Energy Center website. We were curious to see what time Bon Jovi went on stage and if there was any opening act. Well, the show started at 7:30 and local rocker Norman Nardini would be the opening act (do not care). In fact, I really don't care much for Bon Jovi either. Never have. I do respect their strong commitment to aggressive touring, but I just don't really enjoy the over-the-hill pop/pseudo hard rock genre. In my mind, Ratt and Dokken blow them away. Still though, these guys are always one of the top 5 concert grossing acts year in and year out. Hats off to Richie Sambuco. If I could turn back time, I would fuck Cher too.

So just out of curiosity, I skimmed through the ticket prices. What a range. They start at a low of $19.50 and peaked at $500 + 47.85 service charge. The latter seemed like a good deal. Not only do you get a ticket in the pit, you also get to keep your commemorative edition folding chair. See, where you sit your ass is a scrumptious picture of all the Bon Jovites. Not a bad deal... Unfortunately though, Gig and I were committed to paying a grand total of $0.00. So we made a total of 4 signs. I came up with all of them.

(this one was the best)

(doesn't really convey the desire for a free ticket, but it does have ramifications for the after-life/inevitable spiritual journey - I think the Bon Jehovites are likely bound for the celestial heaven with the 144,000 chosen ones or whatever the fuck that's all about).

(I'll probably use this 2 or 3 more times before it gets old)

& last but not least...


The final sign epitomizes my zest for a life filled with canned humor. Hypothetically, Gig would play the role of Jon Bon Jovi's aunt if it came to it. Unfortunately, we would have to spoon feed people the "anchovy" punchline. People just can't seem to think outside the box these days. At next month's Elton John show, I already have my sign ready...


So we parked on the cusp of the hood in a church parking lot a couple blocks up from the arena. KILLER spot for all future shows. Safe and well lit with zero risk of towing. So we hit the lower box office and milled around for a few minutes. It was brisk and cold but hardly unbearable. I spotted a man with a ticket. He wanted money but we cornered him and executed a high pressure pitch. After going through each sign one by one, I think he was finally sold when Gig told him we wouldn't be sitting next to him. At that moment, I saw a glimmer in his eye. And he forked over to the freebie to a pleasant round of applause and a token "Michelle Obama jubilant celebratory fist pump."

Gig snagged the next ticket (a print out) from some guy who just came rambling through. He wasn't interested in any acknowledgment whatsoever. He gave neither two shits nor a fuck. So we guzzled our wine and zipped on in. We tried to hook up with some friends on the box level. But we couldn't get to the box level without arousing suspicion. So we walked down this stairwell and ended up in one of several utility/electrical corridors. I think we were directly underneath the upper level - definitely a restricted area. We really could have used a flashlight but I didn't have my car keys and the illumination from our cell phones wasn't going to cut it. So we took an access elevator out of there. When we boarded the elevator, the girl looked at us and said, "How did you get here? No one's allowed to be on this floor" We just responded, "We have no idea. I think we got lost. I was looking for an overpriced draft beer. Next thing you know, we're here talking to you."

She dumped us off on the box level but neither of our "friends" answered my phone calls. Oddly enough, the attendant said we didn't need tickets, just an escort who had valid tickets. Would have been somewhat fun but I guess it wasn't meant to be. I know. I know. I call people all the time. Way too often. I'm such a nuisance/pest/texting maniac. So we meandered off to some really good loge seats just above the 100 level. We were in a great spot, but Gig needed to invade the railing next to probably the most important Consol executive in the entire arena. She was immediately accosted by an usher. So we moved on down the road a little bit. After two more different seating arrangements, we finally walked down to the front row on the side of the stage. There were a couple of rows that were completely empty. We probably should have hit these up from the git-go.

So we're listening to the encores and Jon Bon Jehovah is waiving a terrible towel and the crowd is on its collective feet and the women are all blowing kisses and a sea of bald men are playing air guitar... But amid everything is a 54 year old woman in the back of the pit. She has a bleach blond mane that is perfectly feathered. Her cascading hair has this incomprehensible ebullience. I think the term "effervescent plumage" is an apt description. For me, this woman was head and shoulders above the rest. I have a hunch she was one of the $547.85 fans who went home with a Bon-folding chair. Kudos!

After the Jovites strutted through their encores, Gig and me scrounged around for some extra tickets for the downstairs bathroom wall. We ended up with a grand total of 6 extra tickets. Rock! But what was very cool is we ran into her friend who works at the arena. He snagged us a copy of the set list. One of these days, I'll get a scanner and the plug/thingamajig to upload pictures. Then, you'd able to see the unique signage, the free parking spot in the hood, the crumpled plastic bottles of wine, the authentic set list, all the good shit. Oh yeah, and the $45 Bon Jovi t-shirt I bought from the official merchandise concessionaires. Yeah, right! That too.

Monday, February 07, 2011

Jerry Jones - giant douche or turd sandwich?

I've always despised Jerry Jones, the Cowboys franchise and pretty much the entire state of Texas. Everything's Bigger in Texas... I know a female bartender who always wears a t-shirt with that slogan. Of course, it has a generous cut down the center in order to display her ample, ginormous fake boobs. Well done. You have really captured our inspiration and imagination. Just as all women with fake tits. You really add something special to the national discourse!

But it's really about Jerry Jones, that arrogant botoxed piece of shit. I just can't stand him. So despite the pain I endured with a tough Steelers loss, I can at least take comfort and solace knowing that Jerry Jones will always be viewed as an abject failure and an abysmal arrogant asinine asshole. Say that 10 times fast.

So is Jerry Jones a giant douche or a turd sandwich? The fiery debate has just begun. Let's start from the beginning. The most pressing issue seemed to be his attempt to break the 1980 Super Bowl attendance record (103,985) from the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. So I did a little research.

88,060 people purchased actual tickets to the game. But Jerry needed to break that record so he could brag to all his closest friends. Hmmm, what to do. Where to begin?
Well, let's start by counting an additional 12,159 people inside the stadium. The vast majority of which are paid workers. Yep that would include the media, the writers and all the video technicians. And don't forget the concession people. That guy basting the beef brisket, the mullet-dude selling $10.00 warm Bud Lights and the dim-witted 300 lb. woman with the cotton candy stand. Let's count them too. What about Slash and all those futuristic half time dancers? Yep you guessed it... they count as well.

But wait, my name is Jerry Jones and I played a bit part on last season's Entourage. I still need more bodies. Hey, I have a bold, innovative idea. I'll sell tickets to another 3,000 people at $200 a pop. These wannabe fans will have the privilege to sit outside in the cold and watch the game on an outdoor monitor. After they pay $100 to park, that's a great deal. They'll be grateful just knowing they are standing on hallowed, sacred ground - in this case, a 1/2 acre slab of cement surrounded by a barbed wire steel fence that would by the envy of Dusty Rhodes, the mammoth-titted pro wrestling icon. His forehead resembles a topographical map of central West Virginia.

Then it all came crashing down. 1,250 people had tickets. But the seats did not exist. Well, that's not entirely true. You could see the empty section of seats in peanut heaven. Still though, Jerry needed to break that attendance record but alas, the seats weren't properly bolted down. So the fire marshall had to close off the entire section. You can't really fault Jerry on this one. I seriously doubt he has ventured up into the rafters to hang with the commoners. That would technically be both above him and beneath him. Think about it. So 400 people were forcibly ejected from the stadium and sent to outdoor "hospitality" tents. Wow, what an honor! I get to hang out where the B-grade celebrities were just kickin' it a few hours ago. The bass player from the Bangles, Oprah's newly discovered half-sister, Hosni Mubarak's third wife... this will surely make up for it. I'll get to watch the Super Bowl on a partially obstructed internet feed. Thanks JJ. Now for you other 850 ticket holders without seats, do not fret. We'll let you freely wander the concourses. Hell, maybe some could sit on some over sized Texas laps.

Maybe Jerry could have let some of the "undesirables from Wisconsin and Pennsylvania" into his spacious owners box. Well, he couldn't do that because of security concerns. He was partying down with some of his closest friends. Like Carlos Slim Helu - the wealthiest man on the planet. With a net worth of about 60 billion, Carlos is a telecommunications mogul from Mexico City. I'm sure he really knows how to party. Or what about the other billionaires in the box - die hard football fans Warren Buffett and Ross Perot. Ross Perot could have made one of those infamous charts to further explain the attendance discrepancies. I'm sure it's like a high school reunion in there. Don't forget about former President and my personal hero, George W. Bush. I wonder if Jerry felt overshadowed. After all, he's only worth a measly 2 billion.

So Jerry's masterpiece plan to break the attendance record came up 766 people short. What a bummer. He doesn't get to tell his grandchildren about the time their grandpappy broke the world's record. Jerry, here's what you should have done. It's simple. Sell and extra 50,000 tickets to the game. But in the fine print on the back, it will say, "This ticket is a fugazi. You are not a real playa, but you will be granted temporary access in order to help us achieve our rightful place in the record books. Consider yourself fortunate. Also, this ticket entitles you to a free medium sized coke at any participating Guzzle'n'Gulp in the greater metro Dallas and Fort Worth area. Some restrictions apply.

I'm surprised Jerry didn't administer pregnancy tests to all women that walked through the turn styles. He's just so full of nifty ideas... ya see, maybe if they're pregnant, that will count for two. Twins means it's a three-banger! Jerry just bought off some judge who ruled that every zygote is a human life in the great state of Texas. As if that question were ever up for debate.

As I'm writing this blog, there's a Maury Povich paternity test episode on in the background. A black woman named "Pancake" is trying to establish that her ex-pimp is her baby daddy. Maury is saying "Pancake" as many times is as humanly possible. Predictable fodder from another man who invokes the same question - Maury Povich? A giant douche or a turd sandwich?

But for me, it wasn't just about the attendance fiasco. I also enjoyed all the flight disruptions and cancellations. And I was titillated by all the restaurants with empty tables. I've seen this pain before w/ Artie Buco's restaurant Vesuvio. I'm perplexed it's never illustrated by our own fine dining establishment, T.J. Pukegarden. Why do people eat at TJ's? I know some who even embrace going there. It's fucking bizarre. The people from out of town who stay at the Hampton Inn - well... they just don't know any better. You can't really assess blame there. You just pity them and move on. But accusations of demonstrating horrific judgment aren't really applicable because it's all involuntary.

Anyway, how about the giant chunks of ice that fell from the stadium roof? Jerry can take comfort knowing that nobody important was hurt. None of his celebrity friends were affected. An outdoor beer tent was crushed and 6 people sustained injuries, 1 of them critical. I wonder if Jerry included these 6 outdoor workers in the attendance figures. What about the ambulance driver? Yep. What about all the illegal immigrant workers who spread rock salt everywhere?

And what about Christina Aguilera fucking up the national anthem? When they introduced her, I thought they said "Christina Applegate." I kept wondering why she looked so much different. I figured out who it was about 2/3 of the way through.

And that Black Eyed Peas halftime show was pretty weak. "Sweet Child O Mine" with special guest Slash caused a spontaneous bile ascension through my esophagus. At least Axl didn't check in for some of those robotic, synchronized moves. He could have gotten all 3 of the eyed peas to do that famous swaying move. Maybe he could even put a confederate bandanna on the black singer's head. I think his name is "Will I Am." I used to think that song was called "Bumblebee," but found out he's really saying "I'm a Be."

And how about all those zany Pre-Superbowl celebrity parties? All those celebs with visions of self-aggrandizement were shit out of luck. Tons of no shows all round town. Even Prince had a concert in Dallas the night before that got canceled. The promoters just fucked everything up and Prince never even made the flight.

And the commercials... nothing really stood out. It seemed like you were watching them from a distance. Almost like you were doing test market research but not paying attention. They all had this surreal, analytical feel.

And my own party was kind of sullen affair. The energy level just never picked up. I've seen more commotion at an orthodox bris (circumcision). For all these things, I lay the blame squarely at the feet (or in this case, cowboy boots) of Jerry Jones. Jerry Jones - everything about you sickens me. You know, everything really is bigger in Texas. Jerry Jones... you are both a bigger giant douche and a bigger turd sandwich.

At least I got to finally shave off this Steelers playoff beard. Took about 8-10 years off my appearance. This one started on December 20, 2010 the day after we lost to the Jets but sneaked into the playoffs anyway. Good riddance. I feel young again.

Sunday, February 06, 2011

canned humor

Canned jokes are the lowest the lowest form of humor. A rabbi, a priest and Chewbacca walk into a bar... Yeah, I get it. Listen asshole, you just stole 3 minutes of my existence and I'll never be able to get it back. Plus, we couldn't hear you because the music was blaring so we had to lurch forward and absorb your Camel cigarette breath. I fucking hate you. I didn't know when to laugh because I wasn't paying attention. None of us were. When the excruciating agony was complete, all of us politely chuckled solely for your benefit. And it's always the same uninspired douchebags that repeat their brand of humor at will. No amount of treachery will stop them. And after they're done, they all seem to wander toward the bartender... "Can I get a Bud Light and a Jagerbomb?" What the fuck is wrong with these people?

And people have an honest problem with Hosni Mubarak. He might be the wealthiest dictator on the planet, but I assure you, I doubt the guy tells knock-knock jokes.

Anyway, I just thought of a joke. Feel free to use it today. It's only good for February 6, Super Bowl Sunday.

"Did you hear the news? They just announced that Roethlisberger is out!"

Anyone will respond, "What??? What happened?"

"He's injured. They're gonna start Byron Leftwich."

Then they'll say, "Yeah, but what the fuck happened?"

"Well, he's out with gonorrhea."

I actually do know one canned joke. It's the only one I'll tell. It's quick, to the point, you're in and you're out. So if people don't find it palatable, it's not as though a great deal of harm was done.

Question: "Do you know what Jon Bon Jovi's aunt's name is?"

Answer: "Anchovy."

See, neither offensive nor terribly annoying. The next time someone asks me if I want to hear one of their shitty laborious jokes, I'm going to respond, "No thanks. I'd rather shave my head with a cheese grater while sliding down a razor banister." *

* I stole that line from an old Cheers episode.

Saturday, February 05, 2011

random ideas/observations

Here's a few things I'm thinking about. Nothing too coherent.

I find the weather issues for the Super Bowl in Dallas, Texas to be a source of great amusement. I've always regarded the Super Bowl as generally the biggest "poser" attraction on the planet. For the most part, it's just a bunch of corporate bigshots with over sized wallets and massive egos. And the celebrities always make me nauseous. If it's a commoner who makes the trip, they're probably even worse. An individual with grand aspirations that spent their life savings whose main goal is to just tell everyone they went to the "big" game.

The weather makes it comical. Surely there's a ton of people who have rented limos. Have you ever tried to drive one of those things on ice or bad weather? Well I have and it's a nightmare. The distance with the wheelbase makes it truly terrifying. The back end just sways all over the place. I'd love to see tons of people get in wrecks on the way to the stadium. All their plans ruined.

And I love the fact that all those people bought $200 tickets to stand outside the stadium and watch it on the outdoor wide screens. It's going to be a long day for those outside. Weather calls for 40 degrees. And the staggered checkpoints will make for a long day. Also, no outdoor grilling is permitted for the Super Bowl because of Dept. of Homeland Security concerns. What a joke. Here's what I envision. A bunch of douchebags sitting in their rent-a-cars in a giant parking lot. They all will arrive early because of the potential for bad weather. Then, they'll just sit there with their cars running.

Jerry Jones is going to break the Pasadena Super Bowl attendance record with 105,000. But he'll need to count the idiots standing outside. Lame. I hope he claims that he broke the attendance record and then they call him on it. Thus further exposing his douchebaggery. I really despise dem Cowboys.

And the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport is having all kinds of weather related problems - very kewl.

To my 2 friends who went to Dallas - Do not take offense. This has nothing to do with either of you. In fact, I might check out the scene next year when they have it in Indy. But my goal would be to score a freebie. Considering the scalping ban on site and lack of others trying to score a ticket, I think I'd have a pretty good shot.


Recipe for the Drink of Excitement:

1 part Stolys, 1 part champagne (not the dry stuff), 1 part pomegranate IZZE, 1 part grapefruit IZZE and 1/2 part pineapple juice. Garnish with a lime.

This beverage is a pure girlie drink, but I've never heard any complaints. All the carbonation really gives it a kick. If you want to use cheap vodka, that's fine - stick with Popov. The IZZE drinks are a little overpriced, but essential. There are no acceptable substitutes.

The Drink of Excitement was formerly known as "Sonofbeverage"


If you know someone who owns a winery or spirits distribution company, feel free to use either of these ideas.

First, the bottle with the tie-dye shrink wrap design. Similar to the shrink wrap covering used by Georges Dubeuf. Their mid-priced wines feature colorful Picasso inspired pictures of chalets and scenery with diverse, contrasting geometric shapes. It's an attention getter. A bold move to help with product differentiation in the shelves of a very crowded marketplace. Smart.

My idea - use the same basic premise. But the shrink wrap is a variable tie-dye design depending on what type of wine you purchase. The cork is also tie-dyed and synthetic. Both the bottles and corks would be popular for arts and crafts types. Name the brand of wine "FOUR TWENTY" and charge $4.20 per bottle. All the college kids would go apeshit. "You brother, here's a five. Get me a bottle of Four Twenty."
And it takes the marketing angle (critical in the wine business) to a new level.

My other wine idea employs the same concept of using the shrink wrap covering. 2 types - one that is completely fire engine red and the other is colored milk white. On both bottles there is a black outlined picture of a table or fancy looking credenza. As little writing and product info as possible, preferably on the inside of the table picture. The concept here is - ohhhh, I get it RED (the color of the bottle), TABLE (a picture of a table) and the wine is self evident. Red table wine or white table wine. This is so strong because it has a generic appearance. And this way you can charge an outrageous amount because it approaches "novelty" status. If you're going to a dinner party, you hand it to the host and say, "Here you go, I brought some red table wine and white table wine." Great conversation starter. And the corks are also synthetic, respectively solid red and white. I like this idea even more than the Four Twenty brand. One is low end, the other is high end. I should really give the latter idea to Kathy Papidimitriou. Definitely the next time I see her.


Why do people use that gay-ass "check in" application on facebook? Ahhh super cool... I see you had lunch at Applebees and needed to share it. It's kind of like - not only am I proud of my lameness and poor decision making process, but I really need the world to know. Can't wait to check in at Red Lobster this Saturday night. I'm contemplating using my own check in information... but in the status update area.

Saf checked in at the Woodsdale Hampton Inn and is enjoying a fine continental breakfast.
Saf checked in at the Oglebay cabins and is stealing firewood.
Saf checked in at Wheeling Jesuit computer lab and is printing out 500 copies of his anti-religious propaganda. The printer is making unsettling, whirring noises - LOL!
Saf just checked in/snuck in to Consol Energy Center.
Saf hopes to check into Bristol Palin's vagina.
Two Jehovah Witnessii just checked in at my front door. How the fuck did you get all the way up this hill? Get the hell outta here! Didn't you see my neighbor Fuckface's joke of a "Private Drive" sign.


I might try a few more of these kinds of blogs. They're a little more pleasant than teaching people how to kill without using weapons or bashing The Metropolitan Grill (although their lunch salads are still the best).

Wednesday, February 02, 2011

how it will end in Egypt

I'm sitting here at 10:30pm watching the gun fire, molotov cocktails, Mubarek thugs on camelback, lynchings, car burnings, etc. I just can't look away. It's fascinating watching it unfold in real time.

I think we're going to witness some horrific blowback. For 30 some years, the U.S. has supported puppet regimes to the detriment of their populations. Sure, we give them "aid" albeit mostly military. And they still hate us. You might find out why on Friday. They're planning another march. This one is allegedly going to the home of Mubarak. I doubt it.

I have a hunch we're going to see the ugly nature of repression and the "way of things." Mubarak's initial plan was to restrain the military and send in the private thugs. His plan is obviously to create an overwhelming climate of fear. Make the general public fear for their safety, attack foreign reporters, engage in looting while simultaneously use the fighter jets to buzz the city - make people think the govt. is trying to protect them. Keep the military impartial, trying to preserve the peace. Then, if that doesn't succeed, he'll exterminate the masses. I think the military is going to plow down the people w/ tanks and artillery. Simply stated, I think it's inevitable.

I think this is why Obama hasn't been so resolute. He secretly knows that things will probably not go so well. And he can't do shit about it. This might be a major jab at him for 2 years - kill him on foreign policy. Kind of ironic since he has been such a hawk on Afghanistan. Think about some of the other Middle Eastern and North African rebellions. You know, central African rebellions haven't gone so well either. Idi Amin comes to mind in Ougadougou (pronounced Wah Guh Doo Goo). Egypt is unique though, but still has the same fundamental issues that plague its regional neighbors.

I think this is where we're going to witness the cruel "way of things." The United States, for all their pontifications about the spread of democracy and the Palinesque cries of freedom and liberty, has to face some harsh truths. We've been supporting these regimes for quite some time now. We're the ones who sell them weapons. We own them.

I know the general consensus is that Mubarak's out and a new era of democracy is about to overwhelm Egypt and most of the Middle East. I don't think so. Just don't see it happening. Instead I think metro-Egypt might turn into something that resembles the killing fields of Cambodia. I'm just not as optimistic. I think the military, aside from their supposedly non-intervention policy... well, eventually they'll get back in the action. Especially with the future of the country on the line. It's inevitable. While the people have superior numbers, they just don't have the weapons.

Perhaps I'm under the influence. This could be relatively true. I just think the outcome of this entire Egypt civil war ends in the status quo - with an abysmal, negative outcome. I'll even take a stab at the duration. I think it goes for another week or so. And I'll even hazard a guess at 10,000 dead, 100,000 wounded. Just throwing it out there. Remember what happened in Iran when Ahmedinijad won in the last election. Everyone PROTESTED and they all got SQUASHED. Of course, this one has better live coverage. I find all this truly mesmerizing. Good to know that some of my friends are watching American Idol.

the vision of Cheney?

I was always suspicious of George Bush Jr. when he claimed back in 2003, "we will plant the seed of democracy in Iraq, the heart of the Middle East, and democracy will spread throughout entire the region." This kind of grandiose statement struck me as terribly naive and simplistic. I was shocked that the mainstream press never really called him on it. Then again, our country was still on a complete war footing in the wake of 9/11.

I think the following statement is generally accepted across the political spectrum...

Dick Cheney, Paul Wolfowitz and Richard Pearle were the primary neocons who pushed for the war in Iraq. They cherry-picked the weak evidence (yellow cake uranium from Niger & the Iraqi diplomat meeting with Mohammed Atta in Hamburg) and pushed the big issues (weapons of mass destruction, war crimes against the Kurds, he's a tyrannical despot/warmonger who poses a threat to the stability of the entire region and has continually violated the Gulf War I treaty), packaged it and sold it to Bush. Bush then got Colin Powell to sell it to the United Nations. Then Bush sold it to congress and the rest of the U.S. Once the mainstream media fell in line, the war was a go.

I wonder if Cheney had the foresight to see the eventual chaos that could ensue throughout the region if there were democratic uprisings across the board. Let's be blunt. Not every country is well-suited for instant democracy. Most Middle Eastern countries suffer from staggering rates of unemployment and half the population lives on $2.00 a day. There is an enormous schism between the wealthy and the downtrodden. With the sole exception of Turkey, these countries don't really have a middle class. In fact, the concept of a middle class doesn't even exist. If you're born into poverty, you die in poverty. If you're born into wealth, you die wealthy. Simply stated, it's difficult for a stable democracy to instantly develop and flourish out of an overly-populated, impoverished nation.

Is it possible that Cheney knew a Democratic Iraq would result in other dictatorships (Tunisia, Libya, Algeria, Jordan, Syria, Yemen, Iran, etc.) eventually coming under intense scrutiny by their respective populations? You can only oppress people for so long. Especially when the average age is under 30 and extremely poor. Although the Islamic religion is very "fatalistic" (they always seem to put their faith in Allah - what will happen will happen - it's the will of god - the future is already written... god is great, etc. blah), somewhere underneath it all, people realize that their destiny is not predetermined. Hence the riots, looting and rebellion.

I think Cheney has this view of the world...

There will always be war and killing. I'd better do my patriotic duty and make sure as little of it as possible occurs on U.S. soil. We're the head honcho, so historically speaking, we will be the #1 target.

I think he knew that the sudden imposition of democracy in Iraq would eventually instigate future civil wars throughout the Middle East. The underlying premise being... hey, let's keep the war over there and off our shores. He got Bush to say, "We must fight them there so we don't fight them here." But maybe Cheney was really thinking "Let's let THEM fight THEM there." If I can get them to kill themselves, the overall threat level diminishes substantially.

It reminds me of my basic premise for 5th generation warfare - instead of actively killing your enemies, get them to kill themselves. Foment civil wars and they won't have time to focus their hatred on the U.S., and to a lesser extent Israel. The alliance with Saudi Arabia will always be safe because they'll crush any potential uprising faster than you can say "Allah Akbar." All the other countries, fuck 'em.

I've always thought that Dick Cheney is a brilliant individual. Regardless of whether or not I agree with him from a policy perspective (foreign and domestic), I'll be the first to admit, the man has an incredible grasp of the issues and speaks with tremendous clarity. Not an inspirational speaker (like Obama), but more of an effective behind the scenes manipulator. He reminds of Silvio Dante on the Sopranos. If I were going to choose a consiliere, I'd pick Dick. But I would decline the quail hunting invitation.