Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Greg Brady Died for Yinz Sinz

Whether we're willing to admit it or not, all of us remember the Brady Bunch sitcom.  Sometimes with stunning accuracy you might recall Marsha's broken nose, Jan's nearsightedness resulting in a horrific bicycling accident or Cindy's poignant battle with tattling.  Maybe you recall the hot and cold romance of Alice the Maid with Sam the Butcher (not to be confused with 500 lb. pro wrestler Abdullah the Butcher).  Or perhaps in the final season, you sympathized with the nerdish plight of the mysterious cousin Oliver.  Ahhh Oliver... you disconnected, amusing anomaly.  You never truly belonged. 

The boys from the father's side of the family also had their share of tales.  Bobby became friends with Broadway Joe Namath.  Peter's voice changed during an ill-timed, epic battle with puberty.   The Brady Six were in deep shit, but somehow miraculously managed to incorporate his tumultuous vocal dilemma.  Fuck it!  They turned a negative into a positive.  Verifiable proof that "when it's time to change, one must in fact... rearrange."  Indeed.

But it is the oldest Brady son that served as the inspiration for my latest home decor project.   Not sure what season this aired, but Greg was experiencing a tidal wave of independence.  He moved out of the tri-bedroom quad and took up residence in the attic.  He suddenly became friends with a new group of older hippies (judging by their behavior, some speculate these counter-culture freaks may have smoked grass).  And Greg started using words like "groovy" and phrases such as "far out, man!"  He wore bell-bottoms and rose-tinted glasses.  To top it off, he even had the audacity to address his mom and dad as "Carol" and "Mike."  Not kewl.

On the cusp of a family vacation, Greg decided he'd rather hang out with his friends instead of his family.  He chose his friends over family.  30 years later on facebook, some might call this "not lovin' the fam."  Regardless, Greg's friendship with the hippies suddenly came crashing down.  His father tried to persuade him to join the family for a fun-filled trip to the beach.  His father made one last ditch effort, encouraging him to come with the fam in that monster vacation-station wagon.  Hell, even Tiger the dog was going on the trip (I think).

Anyway, as father Mike entered the attic he had to fight his way through vast columns of stringed beads hanging in the doorway.   He even got all tangled up in 'dat shit as the studio audience howled in delight.  Surely you remember this debacle.  Mike was an architect by trade, so I imagine he had a vested interest in home decor.  On some twisted, fundamental level, I think we share this trait. 

Fast forward to the year 2011.  Now is the time.  Let us "pay this shit forward."  As we await the Patriots/Giants Superbowl AND on the heels of a debilitating Steelers playoff loss to the Denver Broncos exacted by the Christian savior and overlord, Tim Tebow, I concocted a new project.  With roughly 1,200 wine corks and some fishing line (not to mention, plenty of hooks and 2 dowel rods supplied by Gig), I began to string up the corks in what some have termed a "manger scene equivalent" reenactment at the Jewish Ski Lodge.  It's a real-time, real-world crucifixion/circumcision.  We call it... circumfixion.  From here on out, if you wish to enter my living room, you must pass through the hanging wall of corks.  Technically speaking, this masterpiece is referred to as "Greg Brady died for Yinz Sinz."

Take heed of the perfectly centered yellow cross with the black cork outline.  Reflect back on the sins of the Steelers, the alleged model franchise.  Sure I'm a fan, but I cannot dismiss some of their indiscretions.  Remember Bam Morris?  Wasn't he caught smuggling 200 lbs. of dope along the Texas border?  Remember when Greg Lloyd candidly spoke on national tv after an AFC Championship win against the Colts... "We're gonna take it all the fucking way to the fucking Superbowl."   Remember Big Ben's extra-curricular activity in a rural Georgia bar bathroom stall.  The ugly transformation from "Roethslisberger the Sandwich" into "Raping Burger" the sexual conquistador.  And now Jerry Sandusky has stolen the spotlight?  I can't believe that sodomizer is petitioning the court so he can see his grandchildren.  What the fuck is up with that???  Shouldn't his ass be the one "that receives regular, unsupervised visits?" But I digress...

So here's the point.  If you voluntarily enter my living room, I consider it to be an admission, or at the very least, an endorsement of sinful activity.  As one struggles to pass through the corks, we are to be reminded of Christ's eternal struggle.  For it was not just Art Rooney.  For it was not only Neil O'Donnell.  For it was neither Bill Cowher nor his secretary.  It was, in essence, all of us who've been impacted by the crucifixion.  Even Uncle Saffy, I suppose.  That seems to be the consensus on about 14 channels on my Directv.  One channel is hardly sufficient to convey a message from God.  You need at least a baker's dozen or so.

So replace the blessed wine with a cold I.C. Light.  Instead of taking communion, feast on the bread of Primanti's.  Get off your hands and knees. Stop kneeling and repenting.  Stand up and SHHHOOOOUUUTTTT (Donnie Wahlberg in that movie Rock Star).  For all this time, it was Greg Williams aka tv personality Greg Brady, that died for his love of the Black'n'Gold.  Who would have thunk it?

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

The WBC protest at Joe Paterno's funeral

Anyone who knows me, knows one thing.  I'm fascinated by those assholes from Topeka, Kansas.  The Westboro Baptist Church moniker is a bit misleading.  I refer to them as "the clan of Fred Phelps."  Although they are an abhorrent organization endlessly engaging in the most contemptuous, despicable behavior, I would never seek to limit their collective First Amendment rights.  As long as the United States supposedly has freedom of speech, you have to be willing to accept the bad with the good.  Despite their being the LCD (lowest common denominator) of society, I am completely committed to defending their right to "protest" anything or anyone they desire.  

For those that don't know, the WBC has a long history of taking their younger children (all ages) to these protests.  The kids are actually used as physical "shields." This logically keeps things from getting out of hand.  It's also perhaps the most blatant, routine act of cowardice in modern history.  It just keeps going on and on, again and again.

So I just heard they are protesting yet another funeral.  But this one's a little different.  The Kansidiots are going after Joe Paterno.  The surrounding high profile Sandusky pedophile scandal provides an unusual backdrop.  This put the entire university on the defensive.  That's a lot of people.  And their entire athletic department has been adorned with scorn.  The controversy was so great that even Graham Spanier was forced to resign.  I wouldn't normally know the name of Penn State's president, but that's a whole nuther story.  Incidentally, the new interim president is Rodney A. Erickson.  I plan on mailing him a letter in the near future.  Please forgive the tangent.

When a collective body of people are injured, they often seek mass retribution.  When an animal is injured and feeling defenseless, there is a greater probability that it will lash out.  Now multiply that one animal by 50,000.  And don't forget the earlier Penn State vandalistic rampage from November when the whole story broke.  That's what I'd call a convincing precedent.

So what's my point?  Saf, don't you always have a point.  Well... I think the WBC might really regret showing up in Unhappy Valley.  The WBC fucks might have finally bitten off more than they can chew.  When a giant mass of people are mourning the loss of a perceived loved one (especially a grandfather figure), they're all on a collective emotional roller coaster.  Add to the mix a ton of college age kids and there's a greater degree of unpredictability.  Now there's always potential for violence when the Phelps crew shows up to stir the shit, but this one seems like more of a powder keg.

All this is just a hunch.  The WBC often use the name of the deceased individual on their signs.  They did it with Michael Jackson and Steve Jobs, so I suspect they'll do it with Paterno.  IF one of their signs directly accused Joe Paterno of being a pedophile, I think that could be the match that lights the fuse.  The WBC has a certain amount of "imbecilic, repetitive hubris" that's hard to define.  Simply put, they take a licking and keep on ticking.  There have been several incidents of violence.  Some weirdo from Wheeling, West Virginia even had the chutzpah to promote something he termed "Soakapalooza."  

Here's a highly viewed youtube incident. Their minivan windshield gets smashed by an angry mob as they're trying to get the hell out of dodge.


Just something to think about.  Never discount the power of the mob.  Sometime soon, you might hear the phrase "in like a Nittany lion, out like a lamb."

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

What I would do if I was Willard "Mitt" Romney

I'm fascinated by the Republican primary cries from Newt Gingrichbread and Rick Sandusky-Tarantulum and the Tex-Mex-Gov.  They just keep on clamoring, "Mitt, release your taxes.  Show us your paperwork."  Truth be told, they're spot on.  They should be denouncing him for being secretive about his investments.  It's certainly fair game.  Hell, isn't his current net worth around 270 million or so?  News alert - it's likely more than that.  And he probably has stashed some money into trust funds to avoid prying eyes.  After all, Mitt and his lovely wife have five sons... their nicknames are Zit, Nitwit, Clit, Shit and Tit (his friends call him teet).  It makes you wonder how many $,$$$,$$$'s he actually gives to the Mormonathons.  Aren't they obligated to heavily tithe and promote that shit?

So anyway, I'm guessing Mitt is thinking along these lines.  Even if I release my income taxes and commit to full financial disclosure, the left-wing media and my enemies are going to turn it into a huge, scandalous production.  Even if it isn't the story, it will immediately BECOME the story.  So the best choice of action is to "wait it out" for as long as possible.  At least until I get the nomination later this year.  Maybe the whole thing could be dissipated during the convention in Tampa when you roll out the veep, but I doubt it. 

Honestly, I doubt there's any bombshells in the paperwork.  Think about it.  Mitt's been running for president since probably 1986 (in his head) , 1994 (realistically), 2008 (technically).  What a long... strange trip it's been.  That's a declarative statement, not an inquiry.  He's likely someone who would carefully plan every financial aspect of the presidential journey.

So Saf, what should Mitt Romney do?  What I'm about to suggest would take an unusual display of temerity.  A mission of impudence that I doubt he is capable of executing, let alone fathoming.

Immediately after Mitt secures the nomination, perhaps at the convention, but even better - during a debate with Obama, he should say the following line.  "If elected President of the United States, I will give 100% of my ENTIRE net worth to charity.  This would instantly become the biggest news on the planet earth.  It would be an utter bombshelluva statement and it would steal the entire debate.  It would be the new talking point in the entire United States, from the giant moose of Maine to the fake boobs of San Diego.  And it would provide incredible fodder for Fox News - bashing the Kerry/Rockefellor liberal elitists.  Even MSNBC and CNN would have to admit that it's one helluva grand gesture.  And all of a sudden, Warren Buffett is yesterday's newspaper.

So here's what this proclamation gets you.

A. In a likely narrow election, I think it easily puts you over the top.  Any Barack-uh-tempt to match the philanthropy would appear as a copycat, phony gesture. 

B. You get to be the noble politician.  In fact, it instantly transforms you into an outsider.  Not one who is beholden to the system.  The one who set a new standard and changed the overall notion, "that not all politicians are evil and greedy."

C. Hell, he'd still have a few million not to mention his salary (400K per year), pension and all the perks.  If he's truly on a mission to become the most powerful person in the world, one would assume that the prospect of becoming President would trump your personal fortune.   Then again, we're talking about Mitt Romney.  He's not very likely to think outside the box on this one...

D.  ... and that's pretty much the point here!  He would immediately be regarded as someone who was willing to take the ultimate chance.  He embraced the unknown and was unafraid to shed that big business stereotype.  Mitt was willing to discard that "bean counter Bain Capital, I was born and bred to be the P.O.T.U.S." image.  This is what really haunts him.  Not some shady investment or off-shore account.  The flip-flops are a pain but they can be managed by a good team.  This is about turning Mitt into a "riverboat gambler."  It's the factual proof that Mitt is willing to go all the way.  His mere presence would evoke images of the "Let's Go All The Way" guy.  I think his name was Sly Fox.  All of a sudden Mitt's not the Republican zombified version of a robotic Al Gore.  There's a new sheriff on the beltway and his name is Mittens Romney.

E. You still keep all the 12 houses.  So you still have some equity.  Speaking fees have netted him a paltry $374,000 or so.  He can always write his stirring memoirs.  There are plenty of douchebags out there who would pay $19.99 for an auto-Romnography.  Feel free to compare and contrast with the Sonofsaf odd, oh biography

Now the downside.

A. Critics will say it's a ploy.  He wants to guilt people into voting for him.  He thinks he can bribe me for my vote.  Why didn't he just come out and say... "I'm going to give away my entire fortune because it's the right thing to do!"  And still, the media would invariably ask, "Why won't you just give it all away regardless, win or lose the election?"  AND HERE IS HOW YOU ANSWER THIS QUESTION (because it is a tricky one).

"Well, we can't honestly expect every politician who runs for office to demonstrate this level of magnanimity.  But this is the Presidency of the United States!  The president sets the standard.  Mike Tomlin once said, "The standard is the standard."  But I'd like to set a new trend in this great country where nobody can ever infer that the President's decision making process is guided by aspirations of greater fortune.  This is what our political system desperately is in need of... a new direction based on generosity and philanthropy, not greed and cronyism.  It's all starts with setting an example and someone stepping up to the plate!"  If others are willing to follow my lead, then from this time on, the office of the presidency will be held beyond reproach as a glistening spectrum of a thousand points of light, a beacon for humanity, etc., blah."  (I could write a better tagline but it would take me an hour and I don't feel like zoning in at the moment).  Then, you immediately pivot the conversation into a discussion of the problem with excessive money in politics, including but not limited to, denouncing the existence of SuperPacs, manipulative multi-millionaires, foreign influences, etc.  

B. Oh yeah, and the other downside - if you win it all, you give away a boatload of cash (about 20% of the value of that Italian cruise ship).  Yep, this one hurts.  Mitt would be wise to get the 10 million dollar renovations to that La Jolla residence done asap.  Hell, you gotta have that guest room ready for all those famous celebrities.  Now there's a funny prospect.  Who the fuck wants to hang out with Mitt Romney?  I'd rather hang with Rutherford B. Hayes or Richard Nixon.  Nixon was likely a complete bad ass.  Kind of a political Bill Belichick.  But Rutherford B. Hayes?  His wife's nickname was Lemonade Lucy.  Her disdain for demon alcohol was known far and wide.  

So Saf, if this is such a great idea, what do you think are the odds Mitt will do it?  In essence, "Is Mitt Too Legit Too Quit?"  That doesn't make sense, but sounds really amusing.  In fact, you could bury him with an MC Hammer backsplash.  Killer idea for Stephen Colbert.  Obama and the DNC, not so much.    

So will MITT DO IT?  I'd say the odds are about 2.3%.  But I wouldn't completely rule it out.  And he might be able to do a modified version of what I'm suggesting.  But I think you either do it or you don't.  If you don't go all in, it makes you look weak and calculating.

On a larger note, I still think the entire news media is missing the point.  They all think Obama is going to eek out a close victory as the entire election is determined in the usual swing states.  Fuck that!  It's a whole year off and there could easily be a bunch of game-changers.  What about a nuclear incident?  What about gas going above $5 per gallon?  What about the Middle East (Iran, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, take your pick)?  What about an oddball like Kim-Jong UNderwear?  What about another Hurricane Katrina or natural disaster?  And what about the potential for a domestic incident (maybe the scenario I've been yapping about for the past year)?  My point > for all these pundits to assume that everything remains static until the end of 2012 is a pretty naive view of the U.S., and the planet earth for that matter.

I will make this one prediction.  Assuming it's Obama vs. Romney (with no significant third party entrant), IF Romney wins, I think he'll win ALL 50 states.  If Romney takes it, I envision the repeat of a Carter vs. Reagan scenario where Reagan swept pretty much everything (except West Virginia - isn't it crazy that Carter won WV in the 1980 election?).  But if Obama wins it again, he'll likely crunch out a narrow electoral victory with a surprisingly substantial popular vote margin.  Because the 2012 election won't really be about money and fundraising.  Everyone has already made up their minds. One more ad along the Florida I-4 corridor ain't gonna matter.  Both parties will flood the air with positive and negative ads.  Most voters will tune the shit out as irrelevant.  Obama and Romney will likely channel much of their fundraising endeavors to the DNC and RNC.  But that's another blog...

Saturday, January 14, 2012

that smell (Lynyrd Skynyrd)

Back in my impetuous blogging days, I was more straightforward with my assessments.  For example, the food at TJ's is horrible.  Down on Main is a box of noise.  The Wheeling Tunnel is fucked up.  Basically, I'd just come out and say what was on my mind.  Nowadays, I'm going for a more subdued approach.  Yeah, sure.

So Saf, what's the problem this time?  Well, there is a local tavern that I frequent periodically.  Hard to say how many times I've been there.  But the time frame extends from 1991 > 2011.  Suffice to say, I've been there more times than George Bush, Jr. has said the word "Nuke-u-ler."  That's a bad example.  Let me put it like this.  If every strand of dual-Chrisagii chest hair represented one visit to this place... then, there you go, that's a visit (George Costanza).  Hmmm, yet another poor analogy.  Fuck it!  I've been in there about 1,000 times, okay?  So I have a pretty good idea of what the fuck I'm talking about.  Now brace yourself for the incoming rant.

For well over a year, this place has smelled like a belligerent sewage treatment plant.  Actually, I take that back. It's much worse.  The second you enter the place, it hits you like a ton of bricks.  To merely use the Jeff RDSVCH term, "This place is ass!" is woefully insufficient.  To say this place "smells like ass" is also inadequate.   I'd characterize the smell as more of a "tunneling anal sewer."  It just has this "wafting vengeance" which is really difficult to quantify.  Try ranking it on a scale of 1-100.  It's a futile endeavor because this smell falls so far outside the boundaries of what general society considers to be a "bad smell."

There's incinerated human bodies.  They don't smell good.  There's burning hair at the local beauty salon.  That doesn't smell too swell.  There's asparagus piss.  That's relatively objectionable.  But then comes this harsh abuse way out in left field.  It reminds me of that trademark Anderson Silva clench, followed by a crushing knee to the head.   Much like the octagon, one enters the establishment and tries to size up the opponent.  You walk through the first door and immediately feel a slight sense of unease.  You get the feeling that something has gone wrong.  Then, someone exits the side men's restroom.  Ka-Pow!   It smacks you directly in the face.  There's no time to fight back.  Breathe only through your mouth?  That ain't gonna help for shit because the scent is on some kind of seek and destroy mission.  The fear and trepidation continue as you make your way along the bar.  Suddenly, you're in that congested area at the end of the bar.  Ker-Blam!  You're in what I refer to as the confluence zone.  Just like Pixburgh has the Monongahela, Allegheny and Ohio rivers... there's the bar, the restaurant and the smoking/billiards area.  This is the most heavily trafficked region and where the stench takes on "superhuman" characteristics.  Here's the analogy for the SAT's...

local huffer : paint
confluence zone : acrid stench of incest

You might be thinking... well, I'll sacrifice the desire to be social and just hang out on the restaurant side.  And as you head over, an employee pushes open the swinging door.  Cha-Dong!  The scent has taken on a new directive.  You know how that one company's called "Bed, Bath and Beyond."  Well, this one is "Ass, Shit and Above."  The devastation continues unabated with no concern for historical precedent.  There's no fucking escape.  You have been assimilated much like the victims of the Borg.

But here's what's totally insane.  Everyone is just carrying on as usual.  They're all seemingly unfazed.  Smiling, laughing, eating, drinking, talking, gesticulating, etc.  There's this crazy "we have accepted the stench - it has defeated us - there's nothing we can do about it" vibe.  There's an eerie parallel to the Iraq war.  Think about it.  Okay, were heading in.  Followed by the celebratory mission accomplished.  But then everything goes to shit.  No WMD's, civil unrest, roadside bombs.  Nonetheless, we stay the course.  Everything's plodding along and then all of a sudden... Boo-Yah!  Abu Ghraib hits you in the face.  Remember the infamous pyramid picture.  I wasn't in the room, but as far as disgusting smells go, this has gotta be the Wheeling equivalent. 

Now the obvious question.  What can any of us do about this olfactory atrocity?  Considering the Denver at New England (-14) divisional playoff game is tonight, I suppose we could pray like Tim Tebow.   Maybe we could "pray the smell away."  But prayer always fails.  Do you honestly think that Belicheck will be "praying to Jesus" for a victory?  There you go.  There's your answer.  After all, I don't give two shits how omnipowerful the lord is.  For the "scent of agony" makes the crucifixion look like an enjoyable round of putt-putt golf.

So prayer is out.  How about we just "Man-Up" like they do in the Miller Lite commercials.  That's right.  It's time to Man-up.  In this case, we need to initiate the "airing of grievances" (Frank Costanza).  Just do something about it.  Tell a waitress, tell a bartender.  Talk to the owner.  Talk to your friends.  Hell, Senator Joe Manchin is having those "West Virginia common sense meetings."  Broach the subject at the next town hall.  Write your congressman.  Hang out on the corner by Tim Hortons and hold up a sign.  Stand up and shout (Ronnie James Dio)!  Just somebody please do something.  Anything.  I've done all I can and consider this matter closed.  Until we get it fixed, I'll be at the 19th Ho.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Maury Povich executive producer Paul Faulhaber

There's a sharp dressed man who slightly resembles a youthful Drew Carey except he's more physically fit and better looking.  He lurks in the backstage bowels of the Maury Povich set.   Located near the green room amidst the enticing influences of sexy decoys, he provides a calm sense of reassurance to wayward guests.  Jubilant men who have been proven not to be the baby daddy.  Hysterical women that just discovered their husband of 2 years has cheated with over 35 women, roughly 200 times.  Perhaps he's consoling twin sisters, Venetia and Croatia.  Neither was able to establish paternity for their two girls, aptly named Uneek and Booteek.  But rest assured, when the shit hits the fan, none of the other Maury staff members will truly step up.  When the going gets tough, we can only rely on the even-keeled temperament of Paul Faulhaber.  I hold this truth to be self-evident.  Think about it...

Conflict resolution artist Trisha Goddard?   Well, she only shows up a few times a year.  She's currently in England penning her memoirs, probably at a pub in Manchester. 

What about that absurdly muscular, crew-cutted, tattooed behemoth?   The secret investigative, special black-ops, inspector-detector Dave Vitalli?  This guy is clearly "the shit."  He came up with a devious plan to expose the trustworthiness of some 19 year old McDonald's employee from Toledo, Ohio.  It was actually him texting that guy all night long.  It was Dave doing the sexting.  It wasn't that lingerie super model begging "Chingy" for a kiss and playfully admitting to an unusually intense desire to catch a glimpse of his private parts.  What a cunning, brilliant mind at work.  Dave, you had us all fooled.

Or what about the host of that show Cheaters, our good friend Joey Greco?  Well, he ain't gonna sully his reputation chasing down some dumbshit overturning chairs and punching walls in the corridor.  That wasn't part of his job description.  He's only there for one reason - to ascertain the origin of the used condom and mysterious sex stains.  Maybe it was "melting makeup."  I do not know.

How about any of the seemingly endless parade of fictitious interns?  Regrettably, they don't really exist.  News flash - they never have and never will.  It's all part of a relatively cunning operation to redirect federal money from the Department of Education.  Hopefully, when Rick Perry becomes president he'll shut down the whole damn program.  Atta boy, Rick! 

So what's my point?  Well, I've got some advice for Maury Povich executive producer Paul Faulhaber.  When anyone graces the Maury set, you need to display the city they're from.  This is pure gold and long overdue.  Every once in a while, distinguished guests will blurt out where they're from.

"When we get back to Shy-town, I'm throwing your ass out on the curb.  DEUCES!"
"Maury, he ain't livin' with me.  He can go live with that skank ho in Kentucky.  She dirty."
"BOO BACK!  BOO BACK!  BOO BACK!  Brooklyn baby!  HOLLA!"

I hope that's sufficient.

So let me make my appeal.  Paul, you've already proven that you're the true genius behind all that is Maury Show.  Without you, Maury would only be known as Connie Chung's bitch.  Not the worst distinction if it's from a dominatrix perspective.  "Maury is a smarmy sniveling worm" - say that 10X fast.  But yeah, you need to flash the name of the city or town of a guest's origin.  It means so much more and helps the viewer better relate.  When I see a routine dumb ass... of course I vicariously embrace them.  But if it read "Zanesville, Ohio" or "Paden City, WV,"  I would go absolutely apeshit.  Hell, I'd enjoy it if it read "Spokane, Washington" and I've never even been there.

Using those city taglines or "hypertext screen scrollers" or whatever the fuck they're called.  This is what made Playboy channel's Naughty Amateur Home Videos such a hit.  No viewers care about exactly who these random weirdos are.  We just want to know where they're from.  That's what makes it.  If I'm living in Mesa and an interracial comes on the screen (preferably dark black man with albino redhead chick), I need to know the following... "Who the fuck are these people?  Where are they from?"  Then it comes on the screen... Tempe, AZ.  Now that's what we call hook, line and sinker.

Paul Faulhaber - get this done and I'll make you a personalized hemp key chain that reads...

Paul "Enthrall" Haber

In this case, my word is my bond.

Thursday, January 05, 2012

Occupy methodology

I've watched the slow demise of the Occupy (insert name of metropolitan city here) Movement.  If this movement suffers a renaissance or rebirth, I think you'll see two new innovative tactics come to fruition.  They'll be related to appearance and structure.  I'm really surprised we haven't seen the emergence of this stuff.  Perhaps it was because the protests were generally peaceful.  If things really go to shit (which at some point is inevitable), look for the following:

Identity seems to be a key issue when it comes to the Occupy protest movement, especially in this day and age of video cameras on every street corner imaginable.  If I were one of the more influential leaders, I would encourage my people to dress as similarly as possible.  This applies to both men and women.  Tennis shoes, jeans and same colored t-shirts and a ball cap.  Loose fitting, untucked t-shirts are a good idea because it makes it more difficult to determine gender.  This might not appeal to the clownish local stripper that drives around in that Hummer machine, but that's okay.  Other than the sky-rocketing cost of boob jobs and manicures, I doubt she's really concerned with oligarchies and financial corruption.   If I suspected trouble or encounters with the police, I would distribute surgical physician masks to everyone.  You know... the kind everyone wears on the subway when there's a flu epidemic or another Sars outbreak in Asia.  These masks are dirt cheap (you can get them at any dollar store).  Not only to help mitigate the effects of breathing in tear gas, but also, they help you blend in.  I'd also have a mammoth bag of charcoal at each protest.  Not only could this be helpful in building fires for warmth or destructive purposes, but you can also use a single briquet to smear your face and further conceal your identity.  Any long-haired hippies or dread-heads... tell those stank asses to tuck all that tic-infested hair into their ball cap.

Another option for mass identity concealment - it might be a good idea to encourage protesters to wear clothing representing the local sports team.  This area has enough extra Steelers jerseys to clothe the planet 4 times over.  And with the added touch of team loyalty, it becomes more emotionally difficult for law enforcement to advance on the group.  It would be akin to breaking up a celebratory tailgate in Gold Lot 1.  If the cops went after one of your fellow fans, people will likely grow irate (unless the douchebag is wearing a Bubby Brister jersey).  Hell, why not start up a "Here we go Steelers, here we go" chant?  Why are the pigs harassing those jubilant Steelers fans?  Why do they hate the Steelers so much?  Bastards.

By making everyone at the protest appear identical, you achieve two critical goals.  First, it gives off the appearance of tight-knit unity.  This resonates an "us against them" mentality if tension begins to escalate or the protest turns violent.  But more importantly, any effort by the authorities to identify specific vandals or instigators becomes an exercise in futility.  If everyone appears identical and you can't even distinguish simple facial characteristics, it will be difficult to prosecute specific alleged offenses down the road.  And most importantly, it's in keeping with the notion of decentralization.  The minute you establish a leader, the cause immediately falls under scrutiny and becomes identifiable.  And that's when the movement begins to break down.  I'm completely shocked you haven't seen this tactic employed in any of the Arab uprisings. 

Another fascinating Occupy strategy was one that happened accidentally at the Portland, Oregon protest.  Local police formed a wall and began to advance on the crowd with the intention of clearing the city park.  One of the protesters galvanized the entire crowd to walk to city hall.  So all the occupiers formed a "snake" and joined hands.  As the police followed them about a half mile to the city-county building, the "snake" wove it's way through the streets.  But it was on a Sunday and the building was closed.  As the police prepared to disperse the crowd, the same Occupier suggested they walk down to the bar/club district.  Again, the police followed.  This happened as it began to grow dark (perfect timing).  But this time, the "snake" began to pick up additional appendages.  Naturally, all the bar-hoppers and drunks wanted to be a part of the action.  So they joined in.  Some juggled tennis balls, others blared music on boom boxes.  And there's always someone who feeld the need to bang on a trash can aka "the drum circle."  The whole protest took on this festive, traveling circus-like atmosphere.  But here's the bonus... the occupiers picked up additional protesters and it increased their numbers and mass.  This is the ultimate goal of an movement... recruitment.  But once again, the question popped up - "now where do we go?"  And another voice from the crowd beckoned, "Let's go back to the park!"

So after about 4-5 hours of gradually snaking through downtown Portland, they simply ended up exactly where they had started.  But here's the clincher... faced with the likely prospect of the entire event REPEATING itself, rather than forcefully clear the park, the police chief decided to just call it a night.   Brilliant!   You've got figure that at some point, eventually the cops will want to go home, grab a doughnut and get some sleep.  Plus, there would inevitably be negative feedback from the local population if the cops are getting paid overtime and not accomplishing anything.  Why is there a line of cops following these deadbeats?  They look like complete fools.  It's as if they're the "tail" of the "snake."  The point - rather than sitting still and hunkering down, keep the protest MOVING.  You can wind through fast food drive-thrus, bank lobbies, construction sites, wherever, picking up strays along the way.  And most importantly, it becomes vastly more difficult for the cops to use tear gas, rubber bullets, water or sound weapons, etc. for fear of innocents getting sprayed in the process. 

I think both of these Occupy strategies are so obvious.  Why aren't people trying them?  The reason... well, I suppose it's because things haven't gotten THAT bad.  Of course the system is gradually eroding your personal rights and financial security, but it just hasn't reached that critical mass.  When it does, look for this stuff I'm yapping about.

And in response to perfecting identity confusion and the snake, I suspect you'll eventually see countermeasures employing the use of "crowd dispersal drones."  It's already happening along the border and in some DEA matters.  That's when things will likely get ugly.  When there are no cops.  Instead, it'll be some MIT undergrad in northern Virgina operating a drone on a crowded city street in Manhattan (not the one in Kansas).  Yep, that's when people are really going to get pissed off.  When big brother doesn't send in the police or dispatch the National Guard.  Instead, they send in the tiny drones.  Remember that guy who used to release the hounds?  Well, his name was Mr. Burns.  I recall one time when he sicked a robotic Richard Simmons on Homer Simpson.  Yep.  That's when society will have gone to shit... when the android Deal-A-Meal shows up with a vengeance.  Give it another 7-8 years or so. 

Monday, January 02, 2012

Steelers will crucify Tebow

I should have learned.  Never put your faith in the Cincinnati Bengalis or the Buffalo "B-Dub" Bills.  Chan Gay's team is up 21-0 and they sacrifice 49 unanswered points.  That's gotta be a record somewhere.  And then, Cincy can't finish in da' house against the thuggish purple clowns.  My point - our destination point was Denver from the git go.  Why the fuck did I even go through the motions?

When I saw the Pitt at Denver line this morning, I surmised their must be demonic influences at work.  The line is Pittsburgh -8!  You gotta be kidding me.  I thought it would be Steelers (-3.5).  Isn't this a playoff game on the road?  And that's after the recent Mendanhall injury, a hobbled raping burger and the absence of Ryan Clark (the ol' high altitude does not mix with sickle cell anemia excuse).  You never see that one listed in the injury update.  I vaguely remember Thurman Thomas having a bruised liver back in the late 90's.  It left you with this queasy, hollow feeling.

But Pixburgh is going to have to overcome something of far greater magnitude, something far more vast, something above and beyond... and that would obviously be a Christian combolicious tri-deity.  But wait a minute.  Hold the cell phone for cryin' out loud.  It just so happens, Big Ben worships the same entity.  Now what the fuck should we do?  Well... I figured it out.  We should root for the guy that prays the loudest.  God likes it that way.  This came to me in a dream last night.  A dream whose manifestation was derived from a rare combination of Jameson Irish whiskey and a rosemary-laden sauerkraut-pierogi-kielbasa-pork crock-around-the-clock concoction.  Let me reiterate this vision... volume = holy bliss and eternal sanctity.  And not just in football. This applies to all walks of life.  People need to know that the louder they pray, the more rewards they shalt reap.  Ohhh, the blessings.  On the televangelist circuit, we call it "harvesting a 10,000 dollar miracle bounty."

Anyhoo, I think this is Tebow's ultimate chance to die for the sins of the Broncos (and to a lesser extent, memorialize Jon Benet Ramsey - sorry).  Anytime the choir boy takes a snap from the shotgun formation, he must staunchly pose in the rarely seen "cross formation."  Imagine all those who would be touched by this unselfish act (see... God is using Tebow to communicate his will).  God requires meager human beings to vicariously express himself.  Our empty lives invariably touched for eternity.  In that same moment, here comes James Harrison fresh off suspension for the Colt McCoy concussion head shot.  Lo and behold, it's another blow to the head.  Months later, Tebow will sue him in a court of law.  His claim... the unethical helmet-to-helmet contact altered his perception of reality.  He actually began to toy with the dreaded prospect of non-belief in the almighty.  King James, you have been smited (past tense smote).  For this nation is smitten by Tebow.

But wait, it's not over.  Just as Tebow is about to announce his desire to "turn the other cheek," Casey Hampton (not to be confused with Casey Anthony - once again, sorry) smothers him with an abundance of gock.  For those unfamiliar with the term gock, it's merely a triumphant combination of gut and cock.  At the conclusion of this much-heralded gock-sack, Hampton sits on Timmy.  This evokes fond memories of a bad Happy Days episode featuring the funeral parlor Candyman villain.

Still, Tebow will absorb additional punishment.  For it is William Gay cuming on the corner blitz.  And just as he doth protest this relentless sodomization, a hostile pubic mass comes marching in.  Well metaphorically speaking, that's Troy Polamalu's Lloyd's of London, million dollar insured groin hair.   

I think you get the gist.  Still, the spread seems a bit high.  I do like the under at 35.5 though.  Vegas sharps must be thinking the same thing.  Hence...

Steelers 21 Broncos 3

Since I'm on that kick, here's my wildcard picks.

I'd take the Falcons (+3) at New York Giants.  Falcons are a decent road team and G-Men are coming off not one, but two, overly emotional games (Jets w/ the trash talking and Cowboys w/ the playoffs on the line).  I'd go Falcons 24  Giants 17.  Matt Ryan will win the game late.  And Eli won't be afforded the chance for a comeback.

The Cincy at Houston game's an interesting one.  Cincy has that nothing to lose, young punk attitude.  And their run defense is WAY better than it's looked the past few weeks.  I kind of like Cincy in another upset... say 21 to 20.  Think of it as payback for the 20-19 scoreline from a few weeks ago. 

Now the Saints are completely bad ass.  They are the ONLY team that stands a chance in Green Bay.  I just cannot fathom Detroit getting the upset here.  The spread is New Orleans -9.5.  I think Drew Brees will light it up early and have them playing catch up for the second half.  I could see the Lions doing a late back-door cover though.  Maybe Saints 51  Lions 45.  This could be the biggest total in playoff history.  Remember that Green Bay at Arizona playoff game from a few years ago.  Same premise.

So yeah, that's 3 road teams and 1 home team.  I just fed in the numbers and it's all 4 teams ($10 to win $68).  That's just picking winners, not spreads.  If you do the lines, it's $10 to win $123.  I'll do neither and just pray for a Pittsburgh victory.  But for the love of god, let me just say one thing god damn-it.   If we lose to this god-boy, I will renounce my faith in god.  But if there really is a god, and he happens to stumble across this blog (as he likely would the millisecond it autosaves through a time-honored policy of obsessive-compulsive omniscience), allow me to suggest that the time has come to... Crucify Tim Tebow.  Hey, they're playing on god's day of rest.  I wonder if the sacrilicious Timmy will be skipping church this Sunday.  Talk about measurable disdain for the Sabbath and keeping it holy.  Anyway, Steelers need to nail Tim Tebow to the cross.  That douchebag needs purified.  Think of it as modernizing the whole religious bit for sports junkies.  Kind of like what Fox News would do if Herman Cain played basketball. 

And call me crazy, but I just can't see Romney winning the Iowa caucuses tomorrow.  My hunch is the following order...

1) Ron "the nut" Paul
2) Mitt "the shit" Romney
3) Rick "the vest" Santorum
4) Newt "the wonk" Gingrich
5) Rick "the ass/dick" Perry
6) Michele "the clown" Bachmann

... and if Huntsman is even technically viable, he might get a few votes because Iowa-goers will enthusiastically get to say "yep, that Hunt... he can sure hunt."

But look for the whole process to KEEP GOING.  Nobody has a vested interest in dropping out.  They all know the same thing - I can parlay the exposure into a book tour, the lecture circuit or Fox News quasi-analyst route.  All I need to do is stay IN the news and be semi-relevant from time to time.  As uninspired and cumbersome as Pawlenty was, I just can't figure why he bailed so early.  Perhaps, Mitt threw him a VP bone.  I just don't see it though.  It's gotta be Romney/Rubio.