Mitt Romney needs 50.1%. 50.1% of what?

In response to round #2 of Trump's imbecilic birther claims, Mitt Romney was just quoted as saying...

“You know, I don’t agree with all the people who support me and my guess is they don’t all agree with everything I believe in,” Romney said. “But I need to get 50.1% or more and I’m appreciative to have the help of a lot of good people.”

Now just what the fuck is that Mormon talkin' about?  I'd assume he was referring to 50.1% of the popular vote.  You would think in these days of gotcha politics and youtube snippets, the press would have had a field day with this one.  News flash Mitt... you need 270 electoral votes.  But astonishingly, nobody called him on it.  In 2000, Bush didn't get 50.1%.  Neither did Al Gore for that matter.

Candidate / Popular Vote Total / Percent of Popular Vote

Al Gore / 50,999,897 / 48.38%

George W. Bush / 50,456,002 / 47.87%

Ralph Nader / 2,882,955 / 2.74%

Yep... didn't do Gore much good, did it?  He ended up growing a beard and got a few university teaching gigs.  Didn't he admit to cheating on Tipper too?  Man, did that story get played down.  You'd think Fox news would have jumped all over it.  Preferably with animated cartoon reenactments of the sacred sex acts.  Personally, I'd enjoy watching a cartoon Gore having sex.  The monotone dirty talk would be exceptional... 

"We are now having sex."
"This feels rather good."
"I am preparing to finish."
"That orgasm was very satisfying."

Seriously though, I've been watching this Trump/Romney nonsense play itself out.  For the most part, Mitt is an exceptionally disciplined campaigner (except for the $10,000 bet with Rick Perry).  That's why it's so bizarre he'd be hanging with Donald the Douchebag.  Is a few million bucks from a fundraiser really worth allying yourself with the world's foremost media carnie?  My hunch is that Romney wants to get some of these associations out of the way as early as possible.  He feels obligated to nominally reach out to the dumbshit segment of the Republican party.  Better to do it on the early side and get it all out of the way.  It will likely be forgotten.  Mainstream America has an incredibly short attention span.  Come September 2012, they'll be to busy "Tebowing" in all the swing states.

Some say Trump's ego is larger that Anna Grubler, the famed German Olympic shot put artist.  Now that is a hefty intangible.  But what happens if Trump doesn't go quietly.  What if feels rejected when the spotlight has faded?  What if he decides he wants a starring role at the Republican National Convention and the Romney team doesn't want to bend.  If they don't allocate slots for Santorum, Cain, Palin or any of the other Republicons, why would they offer Trump a prime speaking role?  And trust me, he wouldn't eagerly accept the Wednesday 3 p.m. slot with Mike Huckabee's matronly wife.  Not his style.  He wants to tell that crowd in Tampa, "Barack Hussein Obama... you're fired!"

Just a friendly warning to Mitt - you reap what you sow.  And Trump's ego is far too massive to gently dissipate.  Because if Trump doesn't get his way...

36th annual Ogden Newspapers 2012 Half-Marathon Classic

While much braver souls ran the 13.1 mile half marathon this morning, I opted for the 5K run through glorious downtown Wheeling.  I finished at 27:02 (about a minute off my usual time).  It was a hot one.  Good sweat.  Nice beads (Elaine Benes - Seinfeld).

Check out this years shirt -

What an unusually poor choice of color.  I think Bob Nutting must have gotten a really good deal.  When he heard they had surplus stockpile of "burnt sienna" or "birch mahogany" dry fit shirts, it must have triggered something.  He likely thought - hey, we just unloaded a fortune on that free agent pitcher from the Yanks (AJ Burnett).  Our bottom line just got sodomized.  Maybe we can recoup some of our losses with the indiscriminate dispensation of these relatively putrid t-shirts.  Incidentally, they were made in Tanzania.  You rarely see a central African country serve as the origin for mass replicated garb.  I wonder if that famous African warlord "Kone" was involved. 

I saw several friends who ran the half marathon or relay (Scottie, Andy, Griff,  Dee - aka Deanna Lynn and a few others).  And some others who ran or walked the 5k (Shaunna, Heather, Justin, Kelly, Blake, etc.).  Right before the start, I looked for my buddy Jon but he was nowhere to be found.  After a rousing rendition of the national anthem and an incredibly lengthy prayer for all the participants which touched on strength, courage, endurance, inspiration, fluid intake, humidity, emergency responders, devotion, liability waivers, fatigue, leg cramps, all in the name of our collective lord and savior Jesus Christ... we heard the traditional gunshot.

And we're off.  Still, I was looking for Jon.  Just past the Green's Donut shop/video gambling parlor/future whorehouse, a guy yelled "Saf!"  Lo and behold, it was Jon but he was walking in the OPPOSITE direction.  He yelled to me, "I'm in the wrong race.  I started with the half marathon people."  I'm a little perplexed.  I'm thinking to myself... well, he got about half the race right.  He sufficiently trained and was satisfied with the "running" part, but he failed to accurately assess the "racing" part.  He eventually joined in behind me somewhere.  After we finished, I explained that he should have just kept going.  Who knows?  Maybe he could have won the 5K.  

Though all in all, other than the heat and some flu-like symptoms, it was a pleasant run.  I was a bit disappointed with my time, but I'll get over it.  These days I'm more concerned about the stampedes.

Some other random observations:

They had a slew of those Eat'n'Park smiley face cookies.  But they placed them adjacent to the plastic barrels filled with bottles of ice water.  When someone went to retrieve a water, it would drip all over the cookies resulting in a soggified Eat'n'Puke cookie.  Poor planning.  In the future, you'll need a separate table for cookies, inexpensive dry pastries and such.

There were boxes of oranges and bananas.  I didn't have any of them.

There was an extensive massage area which was pretty crowded.  Personally, I would never subject a massage therapist to my sweaty body after a race.  Even if I was in agony (which I would be if I ran the real race), I wouldn't do it.  Simply a matter of protocol.  However, I did have a chance encounter with the local FBI director whom I updated on my progress with the stampede concerns.  On a scale of 1-10, I'd rate his interest at about a 2.3.  Then again, it's a hardly a conversation one would wish to engage in after killing your body in a 13+ mile race.

On a lighter note, as Jon and I were walking back to our vehicles, a hostile woman in a Ford Fiesta-looking car cursed at both of us.  She stuck her head out the window and yelled "these fucking idiots don't know where they're going!"  Then, she purposely swerved around Jon and sped off into the distance.  Ironically, she was 100% correct.  Because indeed, my friend Jon honestly didn't know where he was going as was evidenced by the earlier racing confusion.  Good call.

Primus & Gogol Bordello, Stage AE, Pittsburgh, May 22, 2012

Ahh, my favorite Primus song.  Now that's a pit.  Unfortunately, I never went to Woodstock during the summer of 1994.  I know several who made the trek.  Most complained about the high cost of bottled water ($4.00) and the overflow of sewage.  Dubbed the excretory rivers, they bore a striking resemblance to the Pittsburgh topographical phenomenon.  Their combined majestic flows all heading in a common direction... a confluence of bodily chunks and fluids slowly amassing toward the much heralded Lake of Shit.

As you can see in the video, I sense a little pent up rage.  Hard to understand why the kids torched the venue as the weekend came to a close.  "Those Damn Blue Collar Tweekers" was the opener in the Burgh, albeit a slightly more muted version.  I'll start from the beginning.

Gig and I hit the Primus show Tuesday night.  We parked up North and hoofed it on down.  You could hear this booming, echoing noise coming from Stage AE.  It was a band called the "Dead Kenny G's."  And the sound literally seemed to bounce off Heinz Field (when I say "field" I'm referring to the stadium's concrete and steel).  Although they were difficult to make sense of, I'm assuming they performed inspired thrash/punk versions of Kenny G songs.  "There's good and there's not good...  this is not good." (Hesh from the Sopranos)

So while everyone was heading in to the show, we made a loop around the parking lot.  We were accosted by a random, rocking dolt that screamed "Let's Go Bucs."  The older I get, the more concert attendees seem to assume I'm going to the Pirates game.  A fair assumption because we were planning to hit both.  We took a seat on the Honus Wagner statue and tried to acquire a couple freebies.  No such luck.  The only person who seemed willing to engage in conversation was a bum that pestered me a few times.

We gave up after about 10 minutes and continued our loop around PNC.  Walking along the river, we witnessed a shirtless yinzer arguing with an overprotective goose shielding her youngins.  This freckled, nipple-pierced dufus physically nudged the goose into the river as some of his gang applauded.  The others remained "heroin-indifferent."  Further down, we stopped to watch a family of 4 mini-ducklings and their parents along a makeshift ramp.  2 other ducks ventured onto the scene and tried to basically abduct the kids.  It was like watching a real-world, breaking news Fox update.  But the duck baby momma and duck baby daddy took to the air and chased them off.  Honestly, it was reminiscent from a scene outta Top Gun circa 1985.  After the 2 minute air show, the duck family was successfully reunited.  Huzzah.

From outside Stage AE, we could hear the continuous din of a band called Gogol Bordello.  Apparently this band has been around for a decade.  They're termed a bunch of Eastern European gypsies from Manhattan, New York.  Loosely translated, their name implies a dramatic whorehouse.  And that's kind of what they sounded like.  Actually, if you've ever been to an orthodox Bar Mitzvah on acid...  I think that's a more apt description.  Better yet, how about a set of Jew-twins (J-twins) having multiple Bar Mitzvahs.  For speculation sake, let's call them "Moil" and "Turmoil."  Their nauseating sound just never seemed to conclude.  Just when you think a song was over, they would bust out another joyous refrain.  L'Chaim!  Better yet, oy vey.   They reminded me of one of those atrocious emo/ska concoctions.  I cannot, in good conscience, call this thing a rock band.  Honestly, who the fuck listens to this shit?  And more seriously, why would Les Claypool have them open up?  I do not have the answers.  All I can say is... thank god we stayed outside where the noise was still patently offensive and borderline intolerable.  They should use Gogol Bordello as a musically invasive weapon at Guantanamo.  Cast aside the stress positions and sleep denial.  Just crank up the Yiddush nonsense.

We made our way in and Primus hit the stage.  Of course it was bad ass.  I don't have a ticket from the last time I saw them.  Back in the late 90's, me, Jess and AJ ventured to the "Beaverdome" at the Beaver County Community College about 20 minutes north of Pittsburgh.  While those two bought tickets at the entrance, I just walked on in.  That left them both a little pissed off.  Great show though in a highly unusual setting (a mammoth spherical gymnasium).  Seriously, where else can you hear Wynona's Big Brown Beaver, other than an actual Beaverdome.  AJ drove the famed Passport that night and I'll never forget us driving down National Road.  As we made it back to Wheeling, an idiot busted out of the TJ's parking lot.  AJ successfully swerved out of the way in a Bristol split second.  This was back in their pre-stop light days.  Nowadays, things have markedly changed.  TJ's has a stop light and really bad food.  Kudos.

Thankfully, he played Wynona's Big Brown Beaver Tuesday night.  All in all, I really liked the brief set list.

• 1. Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweekers
  2. Moron TV
  3. American Life
  4. Over the Falls
     (Les and Ler talked to the crowd)
  5. Lee Van Cleef
  6. Mr. Krinkle
  7. Jilly's on Smack (killer version from Bonnaroo 2011) 
  8. Wynona's Big Brown Beaver
  9. Eyes of the Squirrel
  10. Bob
  11. My Name Is Mud
  12. Jerry Was a Race Car Driver
  13. Encore:
  13. Too Many Puppies

Gigi made an attempt to secure a hard copy of the set list but was quickly rejected.  One of their newer tunes "Jilly's on Smack" is some good shit.  She won't be coming back... for the HOLIDAYYYYY.   Now that's some damn fine lyrical content.  Last chance to click on it.

It's hard to find fault with 48 year old Les Claypool.  He has cemented his position in rock'n'roll.  A total original.  How could anyone even muster an attempt to rip him off?  They'd surely be viewed as a joke.  

We bolted right before the encore.  As the crowd chanted "Primus Sucks" everything seemed to come full circle.  I know it's a term of endearment, but I think this rallying cry would be better suited for the Gogular Bordellish fans.

Meat... A Tale of Two Loafs

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.  Who knew the epoch Charles Dickens novel would serve as a "meatloaf microcosm" in 2012.  When anyone goes to a restaurant and purposely orders the meat loaf, I'm left bewildered and perplexed.  Why would anyone purposely choose such lackluster cuisine?  Spaghetti is another fine example.  The same conundrum exists when people go through all the trouble to fire up the grill.  What are you gonna make?  Hot dogs!  Ohhh, I see.  What a quaint way to reward the masses.

I've always had difficulty with meatloaf (the lowercase product), and even more so, Meat Loaf (the uppercase human).  But let's start with the food.  Growing up, meatloaf was something I rarely got excited about.  My mom would make it about twice a year.  I vaguely recall her dumping large quantities of corn flakes into a mixing bowl.  She claimed it would "stretch" the value of the meal.  As a 6 year old kid, I had trouble comprehending the merging of breakfast cereal and hamburger meat.  To this day, it still leaves me flustered.

But last night, I had a meaty reawakening.  My golf partner J-Rec presented me with a plastic "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" container.  I took a brief glimpse and then stashed it in the frig.  Then, we set out on our golfing expedition.

So we're driving down National Road.  All of a sudden, we hear this rumbling, thunderous sound barreling toward us.  A man in his late 20's with a dark crew-cut weaves past us and then slams on his brakes at the Washington Avenue intersection.  The idiot's entire muffler is dragging all over the place, whooping up all kinds of hella-noise.  I look over at Justin, "Why the fuck was that necessary?  Did he really need to shave off those precious 3 seconds.  And what the fuck is up with that muffler?"  It sounded like a bunch of Bell-Dirty & Shady Hole Cracker Town motorcycle gangs hitting up "The Lube" for bike night.  You know... it's Quaker Steak and Lube in the Highlands.  Where you order the steak salad and the waitress cheerfully inquires, "And what kind of lube would you like as a dressing?"  I cringe as she methodically runs down the list... "Italian, Ranch, Vaginal, French, Raspberry Vinaigrette (disgusting), Thousand Island..."  Did she really just throw in the word "vaginal?"  Lamentably, the answer is yes.

So anyway, we're sitting at the light.  He looks back at us with this coked-up, methed-out, evil glare.  This guy is just pissed off.  Then he starts violently hitting the accelerator and slamming the brake, as if he was aggressively masturbating his cock with this deranged look of acrimony.  3 separate times for what possible purpose I have no idea.  This guy was just begging for a confrontation.  I thought it would be best to simply keep our distance.  What if the asshole slams it in reverse and plows into us?  Well, the light turns green and the fuckhead illegally overtakes a white Jeep Liberty.  The clanging muffler noise did little to arouse the suspicion of the cops.  Yep, two cops were nearby.  One on some kind of tri-scooter moped.  The other was in an unmarked, but obvious Ford Crown Victoria with more antennas than a Vulcan transport vessel.  Maybe they ended up pulling him over.  Or maybe they got sidetracked, investigating an overturned garbage can in Woodsdale.  I do not know.    

After getting absolutely pummeled at Crispin, I returned to the homestead.  I summoned all my courage and removed the lid.  Inside its confines was a bountiful rhombus-shaped serving of homemade meatloaf.   

I carefully sliced it into 3 separate slabs and zapped it in the microwave.  There was still some leftover oven-baked "beer bread" from Sunday night.  You might ask, what kind of beer was used - the answer... Busch can.  Tonight's dinner would consist of meat and bread.  Didn't sound too appetizing.  How mistaken I would be.

Texture - Perfectly encrusted on the outside, warm and moist on the inside.  Not entirely unlike a youthful Eoff Street hooker prepping for a "Wednesday hump-night-throw-down" in center Wheeling.

Format and Taste - One normally conjures up an image of something termed "meat pile."  I usually think of meatloaf in terms of heaping chunks, or quadrants, if you will.  The seasoning for each slab was spot on.  Was there a hint of tarragon?  Perhaps.

Bonus -  A paper-thin layer of pepperoni on the inside!  When properly warmed, the natural oil from the pepperoni leaked out.  Reminiscent of the earlier "lube" imagery.  And lest ye forget, an ample swatch of cream cheese sent me into culinary nirvana.

So yeah, that was some might damn fine meat loaf.

But alas, there is another Meat Loaf.  It is this particular "loaf" that leaves me both sickened and enraged.

His besties call him "Meat."  He was a contender on last year's Celebrity Apprentice.  But he seemed to lose his mind.  Overcome with the passion for his charity (it probably wasn't the VCFC - vegans for cage-free chickens), I recall him uncontrollably weeping.  He launched into this bizarre, sobbing ritual.  Maybe it's just me, but I hate it when they televise a blubbery fatso.

On another occasion, he goes psycho on Gary Busey.  This is some good shit.  Definitely worth hitting the arrow button.  I think this verbal altercation is about some misplaced art supplies.  Embrace Meat's hostility... for he is truly a raging Meat.

 I like it when the country music dude cries out, "DON'T DO IT, MEAT!"  Now that's entertainment.  Personally though, I preferred it when he collapsed on stage last year in the Burgh at Station Square.  If I were in the audience when Meat went down... as the crowd is left speechless and aghast...  I would have yelled, "PLAY SOME SLAYER YOU FUCKING PUSSY!"  Afterwards, Meat was quoted saying, "It's only rock'n'roll.  It's just rock'n'roll."  Uhhh, no dude.  You are not rock'n'roll.  I am rock'n'roll.  The deranged meth-freak in the Ford Taurus was rock'n'roll.  You on the other hand, were born Marvin Lee Aday in Dallas, Texas.  And you, sir douchebag, wrote the all-time, worst "rock" song in the history of mankind - "Paradise by the Dashboard Light."

I will not provide a song link.  I just can't do it.  I'm experiencing a flash back to Mac's Club circa 1992.  A slew of Wheeling Jesuit girls all named "Mary" hooping it up in the tiny corner dance floor.  Rugby and lacrosse studs gaze longingly as they drink $1.00 plastic Hardees mugs of watered down Blatz.  They seek a brawl with arch-rival West Liberty punks.  All the while, an annoying grandpappy figure behind the bar yells, "50 cent tequila shots!  Get on this you dickheads!"  Meanwhile, I'm in the background thinking, "DON'T DO IT!"  Just like the country music cowboy dude on Celebrity Apprentice.

I'll be watching the finale on Sunday.  If Arsenio wins, I will take my own life in a most unusual fashion.  I will journey to the Hajj in the holiest of lands - Mecca, Saudi Arabia.  I will seek out a stampede of sweaty adult, pious male Muslims and attempt to die via crush asphyxiation.  If Clay Aiken wins it all, I'll shoot for the less traumatic option... merely being trampled to death.   Anyone but Arsenio.  I can't stand that fuck.  I guess it all comes down to one question - whom do you despise more... Meat Loaf or Arsenio Hall?   Now there's a question that truly makes you go hmmmm.

Granted, it's a tough call, but when the going gets tough... I'll take Arsenio.

Benny Hinn cancels his June Pittsurgh appearance... coward

So... the billionaire televangelist cancelled his "miracle crusade" in the Burgh.  That's 3 shows down the toilet.  But do not fret, he substituted the dates with appearances in Louisville and Milwaukee.  Praise the lord (of your choice)!  Maybe he thinks Midwesterners are more susceptible to his brand of hucksterism.  Or it could have been a simple logistical matter.  Then again, is it conceivable that he found out about my plans to stage a modern day "tar and feathering?"  After all, my blog ranks pretty high on google searches dealing with Benny Hinn and words like "fraud, con-artist, deception, scam, etc."  DARE TO DREAM.

I normally don't post videos without adding some ludicrous commentary.  Since the fundamental basis for the creation of this video is based entirely upon absurdity and intrinsically wrapped in everything irrational, I'll let it speak for itself.  I will say one thing though... it should be mandatory viewing for impressionable kids at Sunday school across the country.  It would be interesting to see just how many religious leaders have the guts to let it be shown in their house of worship and then have a serious, participatory discussion afterwards.  I'm guessing that number would be in the 10%-20% range.  I normally do not seek guidance or companionship from men and/or women "of the cloth."  However, these individuals would provide an exception to the rule.

Without further adieu... the best (and only) youtube video I've seen all day -

Mr. T says, "Happy Mother's Day... FOOL"

I just saw this bizarro Mr. T video on facebook.  A friend posted it in honor of Mother's Day.

Where to begin?  If this video from the early 80's doesn't leave you mesmerized, you have no soul.  I actually blogged about Mr. T back in 2009.  He left a vivid impression on me with his Flavor Wave Turbo infomercial.  So I feel uniquely qualified to offer my thoughts.

Let's dissect some of the finer points from the opening scene.  This kind of back and forth hate speech probably laid the groundwork for the widespread bullying crisis currently sweeping the nation.


"Well, you couldn't be more than 5." - How old is this boy anyway?  Maybe 7?  I honestly don't know if I would have taken such offense.  Maybe it constitutes anti-age discrimination. Hard to say.

"You're so fat, they have to jack you up to take off your shoes." - To ridicule a teen girl about her weight problem is a little excessive.  It's just an over-the-top comeback.  Especially with the raging epidemics of obesity and bulimia.  I would have taken a distinctively measured approach and insulted her crinkly perm.  Maybe finish it off with the word "FACE" or "FACIAL" (with a pro-wrestling hand raking gesture - very popular back in 1982)

"You're so skinny, your eyes are in single file." - I've read this several times.  I'm still not sure what it means.  But what you do notice is the intensity and rage.  She seems genuinely pissed off.

"You're so ugly, you're ears stick out to get away from your face." - A bizarre thing to say because the girl's caucasian afro visually obstructs her ears.  And from what I can tell, they don't seem unusually prodigious. 

"Well your mom is..."

Enter Mr. T - he emerges from nowhere.  Just in time to save the day!  Back in the Bears Against Drugs days, we used to call this "emerging from carpet."  Whenever a youthful, aspiring telemarketer got hired to sell the West Virginia Troopers Association gift box assortments... well that's what we'd call it. 

Me (talking to my coworker Sam):  "Who the hell is that?  Where did she come from?"

Sam (perplexed, scratching his head): "Uhhh, I dunno.  I think she emerged from the carpet."

Mr. T comes in to mediate what surely would have escalated into some vicious UFC ground and pound.   But I do like the instant resolution.  His observation that when "you put down one mother, you put down mother's all over the world" is specious reasoning at best.  But I think it works well here.  I liked how the chubby teen girl assuredly nods her approval as this future interracial couple leave the stage in a dual embrace.  Could this one loving moment have foreshadowed the Maury Povich paternity craze 2 decades later?  I'll tell you what... at the very least, it laid a foundation.

Another oddity.  It sounds like Mr. T uses the mere absence of "mom" as a justification for not hurling insults.  If you were to take him at his word, he seems to imply... "Well, if mom were hear to defend herself, then you could continue unabated with the belligerent disparagement.  But she ain't here.  So until she shows up, keep your trap shut!"

And how about the Pointer Sister knock-off background dancers?  That choreographer must be spinning in his/her grave.  I do like their stilted, disjointed, incongruous dance moves.  Their garb seems a bit muted.  Screw the Solid Gold dancers.  These are the professional-insurance-secretary dancers.  The one on the far left seems to have this "adult Dana Plato thing" going on - you know, Mr. Drummond's daughter from the sitcom Different Strokes.  Didn't she rob a video store or something.  Ohh, how the might have fallen.  I think she might be dead.

So here's the chorus...

Mother
    There is no other
    Like Mother
    So treat Her right
    Mother
    I always Love Her
    My Mother
    So treat Her right, treat Her right

Not much insight there.  Seems pretty straightforward. I can dig it.

M     is for the moan, and the miserable groan
    from the pain that She felt when I was born

- alright, who came up with these lyris?  And why must it be a "miserable" groan.  Plus, "groan" doesn't rhyme with "born."  I would have gone with the "womb from which I was torn" and segue into "pain she felt when I was born"


O    is for the oven with it's burnin' heat
    where She stood makin' sure I had something to eat

- I would have substituted "burnin" with the word "fiery."  Makes for better lyrical progression and continuity.

T    is for the time that She stayed up at night
    and took my temperature when I wasn't feelin' right

- Maybe Mr. T. could have relived a rectal thermometer experience instead of going with "night and right."  Check out this interpretation... 

T is for the temperature, I'll you what
She stuck that thermometer, straight up my butt

H    is for the hard earned money She spent
    to keep clothes on my back and try to pay da' rent

- this would seem to arbitrarily denote a single parent household.  I'm not sure this song represents the time or the place to rehash the harsh economic conditions that pervade the ghetto.  In the ghetto (Cartman).


E    is every wrinkle I put on Her face
    and every worry that I caused when I stayed out late

- Yet again.  A horribly ineffective rhyme (face and late???)  E stands for "Every?" Weak. Lame.  (additional Cartman).

The last letter R is that She taught me Respect
    and for the room up in Heaven that I know She'll get

- Not sure why Mr. T needs to invoke the tired, duality of good vs. evil, heaven vs. hell.  As an atheist Jew, it's a bit cumbersome.  But not as bad as that song "Cumbersome."
Now that song was truly fucking cumbersome.

Onto the lyrics of the background singers...

She's a Queen
    Second to none
    Take care of Mother
    You only get one

- What about stepmothers and moms who take on an adoptive role?  What about lesbian couples with kids?  You certainly get another mother there.  Isn't that what Herman Cain was yapping about on the campaign trail?  Wasn't he the "Koch brother from another mother?"  Well, maybe not.  But with Barack Obama finally coming out in support of same-sex marriage, I think we can unequivocally say it's feasible to acquire additional mothers.

Let's take a scene-by-scene look at these ingratiating glimpses of motherhood.

A Connie Chung imposter mom gets a cheek full of lipstick.  Why in god's name would a girl under the age of 10 be wearing that much lipstick?  I can only surmise that she's spiraling toward a life of prostitution, or hopefully, a career in the clown business.

In the following scene, a mother with an odd purple hat gets a lackluster hug.  At first glance, this woman looks like Todd Bridges (yet another Different Strokes coincidence).

Next up are these two moms co-pedaling through the park.  I don't have the foggiest idea why that fits in.

This merges back into another Mr. T refrain, or T-frain if you will.

In the next scene, there's a  woman who bears a sharp resemblance to Phylicia Rashad of the Cosby Show.  Her presumed daughter opens the car door for her.  I've never seen a car like this.  The vomit infused color makes it even stranger.  What's with those mammoth plastic headrest restraints?  Seriously, what is the make and/or model of this vehicle?

Next up is a seemingly androgynous child giving his/her mom a neck rub.  If you notice, the kid's wearing some kind of creepy massage gloves.  It seems a bit young for driving gloves.

Then we have this young lad helping mom carrying in the groceries.  I can't find anything objectionable here.  Maybe throw in a "paper or plastic" reference.

In the final shot, a young boy with feathered plumage in an excessively triangulated shirt surprises mom with one of those exploding pop-out snake boxes.  I thought those things came in a Pringles-like container, not a box.  Anyhoo, after the shock and awe subsides (in less than 1/3 of a second), he presents her with a box of chocolates, Forrest Gump style.  Nice!

Let's "close the lights" (Sopranos reference) with another Dana Plato lookalike aerobic instructor telling you to "be somebody."  What the fuck is that about? 

Happy Mother's Day indeed.

Why is Saddam Hussein a physicist for Chevron?

Back in March I became thoroughly disgusted with Bank of America's "Pink's Hot Dog" commercial.  Their self-portrayal as this noble, financial ambassador of goodwill left me in a complete rage.  Are people really that stupid?  Lamentably, the answer is... of course they are.  Well, imbecilism (not a real word) goes hand in hand with indifference these days.  As you might expect, I wrote about it.

Well, just when you think the big banks have a monopoly on being aggressively deceitful and manipulative, along comes big oil.  I swear to god, next up will probably be the defense contractors.  Lockheed and Northrop hailing the virtue and precision of land mines and cluster bombs.  You know, the bright, shiny bombs that accidentally resemble children's toys.  As if the children of Afghanistan didn't have enough agonizing shit to contend with.

So lately the philanthropic arm of Chevron has been under attack from the greedy citizens of Ecuador.  Apparently, a few gallons of oil have inadvertently spilled.  You know... it's like when a tanker rig overturns near St. Clairsville and they have to shut down I-70 and call in the EPA clean-up crew.  I actually visited Ecuador (back in 1999) although I don't think this gives me any unique insight.  Anyway, there's a massive, ongoing 20 billion dollar class action lawsuit.  This oily disaster is even worse than the flooded Greek wings at the Alpha.  And don't even get me started on Chevron's destructive impact on Nigeria.  I think the African country should be renamed "Chevron."  Maybe refer to the Niger Delta as "the Texacanic Strip."  Rename the capital city Lagos... Latex.  I'm pretty sure they use oil when manufacturing condoms.  I could be wrong.

Brief aside - did you know that the population of Nigeria will soon exceed the United States?  I think in 2050 or so (as if humanity will last that long... talk about wishful thinking).

Anyhoo, the Chevron execs have fought back with a "We Agree" marketing campaign.  It reminds me of those Fox Network commercials hailing the virtues of sportsmanship and not being judgmental.  You know... the one where the high school basketball player touches the ball before it goes out of bounds (C'mon Alex!  The ref didn't call that.  It's the championship game!).  Don't worry he admitted his transgression to the ref who then miraculously came to his senses and overturned the bad call.  Brilliant!  Or how about the teen, skater punk that "snatched" the black lady's purse.  (Ma'am you left your purse!)  He was rewarded with a doughnut from a congratulatory pig.  I wonder if it had sprinkles. 

So rather than try to fix or alleviate the mess, they're doing what the United States does best - saturate the airwaves with a massive public relations initiative.  That'll help!

Okay.  I get it.  Chevron and all their related subsidiaries are on the cutting edge of technology, and it would appear to a lesser extent, grooming (their physicist spokesperson is in bad need of a haircut and a shave).  Is it me or does "Barney" bear a striking resemblance to the deceased Iraqi tyrant Saddam Hussein?

Doesn't anyone bother doing simple market research with these multi-million dollar ad blitzes?   I'm not talking about sophisticated facial recognition software.  I'm just asking them to pick any bum off the street and ask them, "Does our unkempt scientist remind you of anyone famous?  Maybe, just maybe, a Middle Eastern strongman who detonated a bunch of oil wells in Kuwait and Southern Iraq?  Ask any West Virginian and he'll tell you "that's the sum bitch who tried to kill W's daddy."

I remember shortly after 9/11 they asked a local from Wheeling his thoughts on Osama Bin Laden.  He replied, "That guy's a real asshole!"  They had to bleep out "asshole," but you get the picture.  I really enjoyed the local news portrayal of the man responsible for the most diabolical act in the history of mankind - yep, the late Bin Laden was indeed an "asshole."

Maybe I'm getting too emotionally attached.  You see, I've had my share of identity issues over the years.  In high school, this kid said I looked like actor Jeff Goldblum (when he played the role of The Fly). I believe there's a kernel of truth here...

I've also been told I bear a striking resemblance to a local guy who's roughly my age.  His name is Ty Rodman (no relation to NBA superstar/transvestite Dennis Rodman).  For about a decade (1990-2000), every once in a blue moon, I'd be accosted by some dickhead who thought I was Ty Rodman.  And these guys wanted to kick the living shit out of me.  One time I actually had to show some steroid-fuck my ID.  I think these were my exact words, "I'm not the asshole you think I am! No... I'm an entirely different asshole!"

And just a week ago my friend Melinda in Elkins, WV texted me.   She demanded I turn the channel to this chef on the Food TV Network show "Chopped."  She claimed there was an aspiring Indian chef that bore a striking resemblance.  I went to the Food Network website but couldn't track down a pic.  She claimed it was an "Indian Saf," a "curried version of me, but 20 years older."  Not exactly sure what that means.  Truth be told, there was a resemblance.  I've never been a big fan of Indian cuisine (curry, or cumin for that matter).  Although I am very hip on the Tandoori movement (not the bowel aspect).  Enough of this shit.  I was just trying to relate to the issue of mistaken identity.  Seriously though, why would anyone want to be me?  Especially with this inevitable stampede shit.

One final thought.  I'll leave you with this fantastic parody of the Chevron nonsense.

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/b306db1443/chevron-thinks-we-re-stupid?rel=player

Fonzie dance moves on Maury Povich?

There has been a wide array of dances performed by jubilant men and women after Maury Povich reads paternity test results.  It's almost a rite of passage.  Personally, I think the producers offer them money if they do a little jig of some sort.  It's much like Jerry Springer offering cash as an added incentives to engage in fisticuffs.  For such an overwhelming majority of guests to spontaneously respond in gyration celebration - well it's just ain't credible.   One minute, some douchebag is yelling and blathering in defiance.  Seconds later, they're tearing up the backstage like El DeBarge (Dance to the Beat of the Rhythm of the Night)."

Well... I think the time is ripe for some guy to execute "the signature Fonzie retro dance contest move" when he hears those magic words "you are NOT the father."  I think it would bring the house down!  You may recall this stellar moment in Happy Days history.

Alright... some brief analysis.

First off, I think the little blond girl competitor who passes out from exhaustion may have been Charlene Tilton.  You know... Lucy Ewing - the spoiled, rich girl on Dallas.  She played the role of Jock and Ellie's granddaughter.  Her thespian skills were pretty weak.  Hence, they never gave her any substantive parts.  I vaguely remember her fucking the ranch-hand Ray Krebbs (who turned out to be Jock's illegitimate son).  But that's about it. 

I find it odd that Fonzie's crescendo dance move, his "de nu mont" if you will, is performed to the background music of the old Jewish Bar Mitzvah/wedding song Hava Nagila.  What a zany choice.  I don't recall any Ukrainian Jews on Happy Days.  Unless Ralph Malph was some kind of Milwaukee-infused ginger Jew.  Literally translated, Hava Nagila means "Let us Rejoice."   Hey, what better choice of song to exemplify a negative paternity outcome.  "Celebration" by Kool and the Gang could be a close second.

An interesting tidbit about the Fonzie character.  Did you know that the producers originally intended for Anson Williams (Potsie Weber) to play the role of The Fonz?  If you think about it, it makes a ton of sense.  He was far better looking and had great stage presence along with a tremendous singing voice.  Thus, Henry Winkler's gang role was at most, a bit part in the early years.  I just always found that intriguing.  Potsie was supposed to be Fonzie.

And how about Weezer incorporating the old-school Fonzie footage in their "Buddy Holly" video?

I thought this was one of the cooler musical moments in the mid 1990's (a really weak time for rock'n'roll, unless you actually liked Collective Soul, Georgia Satellites, Spin Doctors and all those other shitty bands).

Gig and I saw the outdoor Weezer concert at Stage AE last summer.  Definitely one of the better shows I saw in 2011.  One of the few bands I've always wanted to see that had eluded me.  And check this out - it's a copy of their set list (signed) from that night.

So yeah, that's my idea.  Have some asswipe perform the Fonzie "Hava Nagila/Buddy Holly" on the Maury Povich show.   I'm receptive to other established dance moves (the robot and running man), but I'm pretty passionate about this one.  How can you not be?  Props to Gigi - she was the one who theorized of the concept this afternoon. 

Marilyn Manson - Stage AE / Pittsburgh, PA (5-7-12)

Lots of stuff in the Burgh this weekend.  I zipped up to Gigi's around 4pm.  We gathered our wits, filled our plastic bottles with the best, ultra-cheap wine ($2.99 - Bay Bridge Cabernet) and headed down to the North Shore.  It would be an evening of contrasts.

The weather was perfect but the traffic was horrendous.  Likely a combination of the Pittsburgh Marathon prep, the usual casino vidiots, Bucco fans and Manson fanatics.  Fortunately, we squirmed around the madness with a Gold Lot 1/backdoor approach.  In the future, I highly recommend entering from the Heinz Field North End Zone.  It saved us about 45 minutes.  But the "potential frustration endured" could have lasted well into 2016.

Gig brought some salsa, chips and spring rolls from Nikki's Thai (always recommended) and her friend Shelley had a Tupperware container of "boiled boneless chicken fragmented nuggets" and pasta salad.  The "boiling of meats" is a proud tradition dating back to the OMP (Old Man Prettyman) days of 2002.  Some will boast of their journeys to Pampalona, Spain where they witnessed the "running of the bulls."  I would rather brag about the "boiling of the meats" in the restricted picnicking confines of North Puke.  But I digress...

Contrary to popular belief, I was never a big Marilyn Manson fan.  During his heyday in the late 90's, he really didn't register on my musical radar.  Back then, I had abandoned my high school/early college thrash metal roots.  I was still transitioning from my years with the Dead (ironic... considering Manson invokes so many images of death and imbalance).  At the time, I was ensconced in Phish and mostly DMB related jam band stuff.  I had listened to some of the Manson releases and they all struck me as "a couple of killer tunes, and then the rest of it was really annoying, morbid filler/screeching/techno crap.  But around 2009, I heard the single "We're from America."  That pretty much changed everything.

We're from America, we're from America, where we eat our young
We're from America, we're from America, it's where Jesus was born

We're from America, we're from America, where they let you cum on their faces
We're from America, we're from America, we speak American

We don't believe in credibility, because we know that we're fucking incredible (x2)

Now if that doesn't sum it up, I don't what possibly could. 

So we all scored freebies and customarily skipped the opening act "Pretty Reckless."  The tailgating scene was unusual but consistent.  Manson fans actually have a lot in common with the Pirates.  Both embrace unusual makeup, piercings, tattoos and wear bizarre garb.  I'm talking about actual, mythical Pirates, not the diehard goatee yutzes from Monroeville.  However, Bucco fans are among the most beaten, downtrodden, victimized and misunderstood members of society.  Manson fans too.  Add some layered nose rings strands, an inverted swastika on your forehead and walk around carrying a plastic lunch box filled with Purina dog biscuits... and presto bingo... you're now a Marilyn Manson fan! 

So what did you think of the concert?  Ahhh, the million dollar question.  Well, I just happen to be a huge fan of androgynous satanists.  How would anyone have guessed my proclivity for this fringe milieu?  Considering the shortage of qualified performers that carry this ignominious distinction... yes, I thought it was a strong show.  But I did have some misgivings about the set list (Gig snagged me one from the stage after the show ended - supercool).

I could have done w/o the 2 overplayed covers (Sweet Dreams and Personal Jesus).  Personal favs were Disposable Teens, Mobscene and Dope Show.  And I liked two of his new songs - Pistol Whipped and Slo-Mo-Motion.  Here's a decent version of "Pistol Whipped" from last weekend in Rhode Island.  Sometimes, I enjoy a reflective, subdued Manson.  You just can't gutter-scream your brains out for over an hour straight.  Even though he usually does...

I normally don't post bootleg links, but I did come across this website specifically devoted to Manson and a few others.

http://www.seven1963.org

The Download Festival concerts from England are really strong (old school rock stars like myself call these "Castle Donington" shows - if you're from Ohio or West Virginia, it's the equivalent of referring to The Buckeye Lake Music Center as "Legend Valley").  I also like the 2007 Buenos Aries, Argentina concert.  All are fm broadcasts.  If you want some burned cd discs for your music machine, just lemme know.

So we made it back to the lot and I accused Gigi of locking her keys in the car.   But they were in my pocket the whole time.  The "whole time" lasted about 22 seconds.  Still though, my bad.

Gig got up early for work.  I joined her and Brandon filming the Pittsburgh marathon.  Downtown was a madhouse, so I parked on the North Side and hiked over.  People who run these marathons are a different breed.  The term "breed" meaning "absolute bad ass."  Here's something to think about.  Any douchebag can go out and buy stuff - a gun, a sports car, a mansion, a diamond necklace...  But it takes someone with real guts and courage to run one of these things.  So a shout out to my friends who are the epitome of true bad asses...

Scottie T. and Bobbie L. - both did the full 26+ miles.
Stacey C. and Sandy K. - 13.1 miles ain't for no slouches either.

I hung out for a while and then walked over to PNC and scored a ticket for the afternoon Pirates/Reds game.  I went for a complete laid-back, non-speaking approach this time.   I sat next to the Honus Wagner statue outside the entrance to home plate.  I carefully hoisted my finger and gave everyone entering the ballpark my patented "I'm not a bum, but I play one on tv.  Will you do your part in helping me obtain a free ticket" look.  Sure enough, some guy handed me a ticket along the 3rd base line.  I ended up sitting in the more comfortable shade around first base and consumed a non-enchanting Primanti's.  By the way, Nakama opened a stand in the ballpark this year.  But nobody was in line.  I love sushi, sashimi, all of it really.  But I just don't think the demand for "oriental cuisine" will ever consistently work at PNC Park.  Call it a hunch.

I left during the 6th inning.  I think they were down 4-0.  They would end up losing 5-0.  Incidentally, if you're one of "those" people... You know, the kind of people that bitch up a storm about losing a regular season baseball game.  The kind of people that make everyone's life miserable and awkwardly uncomfortable until the evening ends.  The kind of people who remain obsessed with every ball, every strike, every questionable call from the umpire... you may want to rethink the purpose of your existence.   I'd offer up some advice but I think it would fall on deaf ears.

You know something.  I will offer some advice after all.  At the concert, Gig and I were offered 2 freebie promo bottles of something called:

THE ULTIMATE HYDRATION BEVERAGE 
Cherry Pomegranate
OXY WATER 

On the label it reads

ALL GOOD STUFF.  NO BAD STUFF.
NO SUGAR.  NO CARBS
NO ARTIFICIAL SWEETENERS.
NO CAFFEINE.  NO CALORIES.

I just took a sip.  It was absolutely disgusting.  So here's my advice.  Don't buy this shit.

One last bit of advice.  On a completely unrelated note, if you wish to name your infant daughter "Treasure," that's entirely up to you.  But when you choose to name the girl "Treasuria"... well, you just crossed that thin line.  You may not think this impacts others, but it actually does.  In one swift move, you have taken away a "chunk of normalcy" from the human conglomerate.   As a member of society, I have a moral obligation to vociferously state my objections.  I beg you to reconsider  "Treasuria."

national day of scare

So May 3 is the National Day of Prayer.   Just some brief thoughts...

How quaint that it would coincide with Mitt Romney's visit to the friendly city.  Trust me, if push came to shove - Romney would abandon his Mormon ideology and convert to Latvian Orthodoxy (George Costanza). 

Why is it that when people engage in health-related prayer, it's always the internal stuff?  It's always the stuff you can't see.  Cancer, arthritis, blood disorders... Why don't we see amputees praying for spontaneous limb regeneration?  Ahhh, the age old question regarding rational suspension of belief.   If this leaves you feeling flustered, just stick with the usual explanation... god works in mysterious ways. 

Why don't people have more difficulty rationalizing their religious "choice?"  Why won't people acknowledge that their faith and general system of beliefs is a product of family lineage and geography?   Why such intrinsic, passionate devotion?  Seriously, I'd be more committed when it comes to selecting a Samsung or Panasonic.

And why the persistent denial of evolution?  Or even worse, the pseudo-scientific embrace of intelligent design?   I think it's the ultimate human shortcoming - the utter failure of mankind to comprehend its trivial role in the universe.

It seems to me... the National Day of Prayer would be better termed, the National Day of Scare.

Important dates #3

On May 1, 2012, I sent out a consolidated version of the first two letters to representatives from Nascar, Indy Racing, NFL ownership and the NFL Commissioner.

The content of the letter sent to all 32 NFL owners:

In 1913, 73 people were crushed to death in the Italian Hall Disaster in Calumet, Michigan.  This event is generally regarded as the basis for placing reasonable limitations on the First Amendment.  Most refer to it as "falsely shouting fire in a crowded theater."  Roughly a century later, allow me to pose a similar question.  Is it conceivable to text "fire" in a crowded NFL stadium?  If a significant number of individuals received a text message conveying IMMINENT DANGER and/or the NEED TO IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE, the consequences could be catastrophic.  It would likely result in an artificially generated stampede.

Following the Virginia Tech massacre in 2007, companies offering mass text alerts became more commonplace.  Many of these companies offer SMS (short message service) systems to anyone willing to pay for them.  It's just a matter of time before someone with a pernicious agenda opts to utilize this platform.  Furthermore, a perpetrator would probably seek maximum impact as it would likely be a one-time occurrence.  

While security and safety measures have been greatly enhanced in the last decade, there has never been a credible plan to safely evacuate an NFL stadium in the event of a sudden panic.  Why?  Because it's simply not logistically feasible.  We have already witnessed the evolution of flash mobs and the recent spread of dangerous viral text hoaxes.  The prospect of hacking and manipulating a text alert system or cellular service provider represents the gravest concern.  But it's simply the mere existence and availability of lengthy lists of cell phone numbers corresponding to individuals in a confined location.  This, combined with the established level of trust placed in emergency SMS communication, represents the underlying problem.  

While I doubt that I am the first person to conceive of this potential threat, I do suspect this is the first time you've heard about an artificially generated stampede.  Other than virally spread text hoaxes, I've seen nothing about deliberately transmitting false texts in an attempt to create a sudden, mass panic.  There seems to be no discussion of this asymmetric security issue in the public domain.  And if you connect the dots between large crowds and the potential misuse of SMS technology, I think you'll agree that my concerns are justified.  Please consider the following:

    •     The potential for hacking or intentional misuse of any relevant text notification or fan alert system.  Due to their wider accessibility, socially driven media platforms such as Twitter represent another area of concern.   
   
    •      The acquisition of cloned cell phone lists linked to season ticket holders and employees.  A spoofed (disguised) message could easily be configured to appear as though it was sent from an opt-in notification system.

    •      A message originating from a wireless carrier.  You may recall the December 12, 2011 "Civil Emergency: Take Shelter Now" alert sent to Verizon customers in central New Jersey.  Termed a "malicious hoax" by Monmouth County Sheriff Shaun Golden, the event remains unexplained.  Although an apology was issued, there has been no admission of negligence or responsibility.

Being a whistle blower for a hypothetical national security threat is not something I relish, but I cannot in good conscience remain silent.  So in accordance with the Department of Homeland Security's "If You See Something, Say Something" campaign, I have made a moral determination to send you this letter.  I would encourage you to research this issue and take preventative action.  And while this problem is well beyond my area of expertise, I do have some suggestions.

    •    Acknowledge and prepare for an unpleasant reality.  In the event of an artificially generated stampede, any emergency evacuation protocol would most certainly be rendered useless.

    •    Understand that your incident commander may not have ultimate control over the content, timing and delivery of an evacuation order.  This represents a profoundly changed dynamic in stadium security.

    •    Assess the security of any cell phone lists associated with season ticket holders and employees.        
   
    •    Be cognizant of the timing and context of official social media updates.

    •     Employ a looped message via the public address system warning fans of the possibility of an artificially generated stampede.          
   
    •     Include an assumption of risk disclaimer on the ticket stub similar to a foul ball or broken bat warning: Cellular communication devices can be used to create artificially generated stampedes.  If you receive a message demanding an immediate evacuation, wait for official confirmation from the public address system.

    •     Conduct general awareness campaigns as a matter of policy.  A simple slogan such as "Think before you run" could prove very effective in thwarting a text-induced stampede.     

While you may have sufficient confidence in your own stadium emergency evacuation protocol, your security could be compromised by mere association with the wider NFL community.  We live in an era of breaking news and instant, personalized communication.  Because many NFL games overlap, revelations of a stampede at one or more stadiums could trigger additional stampedes, creating a domino or cascade effect.

An event of this nature would likely not be a hoax or accident.  It would be executed with malicious intent.  National Football League stadiums provide one of the most easily recognizable targets.  As the leaders of the organizations that put people into these crowded and therefore potentially dangerous environments, you have a moral obligation to warn people about the dangers of panic-laden text messages.  We need to raise awareness before a catastrophe transpires.  There will be no dress rehearsal.

I believe that the federal government will not address this issue until after a disaster has occurred.  Therefore, I would implore you to work with each other and exercise your considerable influence with state and local governments.  It is imperative to devise a time-sensitive game plan.  I am willing to meet with you personally to review this matter.  Please contact me if you have any questions or concerns.

"There are risks and costs to a program of action, but they are far less than the long-range risks and costs of comfortable inaction." - John F. Kennedy


Respectfully,

Eric Saferstein
contact information omitted


cc:   National Football League ownership
        Commissioner Roger Goodell, National Football League

Letters with similar content have been sent to the following individuals.
   
    Secretary Janet Napolitano, Department of Homeland Security
    Chairman Julius Genachowski, Federal Communications Commission
    Secretary Arne Duncan, Department of Education       
    NCAA Division I university presidents and chancellors   
    Representatives of Indy Racing League, Inc.
    Representatives of National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, Inc.


This letter was sent to the following individuals:

alex spanos, san diego chargers *
arthur blank, atlanta falcons
bill bidwill, arizona cardinals
bob mcnair, houston texans
bud adams, tennessee titans *
clark hunt, kansas city chiefs
dan rooney, pittsburgh steelers *
daniel snyder, washington redskins *
denise york, san fransisco 49ers
james irsay, indianapolis colts
jeffrey lurie, philadelphia eagles
jerry jones, dallas cowboys
jerry richardson, carolina panthers
john mara, new york giants *
john york, san fransisco 49ers
malcolm glazer, tampa bay buccaneers
mark davis, oakland raiders *
mark murphy, green bay packers *
mike brown, cincinnati bengals
pat bowlen, denver broncos *
paul allen, seattle seahawks
ralph wilson, buffalo bills
randy lerner, cleveland browns
robert kraft, new england patriots
shahid khan, jacksonville jaguars
stan kroenke, st. louis rams
stephen ross, miami dolphins
steve bisciotti, baltimore ravens *
tom benson, new orleans saints
virginia halas mccaskey, chicago bears
william clay ford, detroit lions
woody johnson, New York Jets *
zygi wolf, minnesota vikings
roger goodell, NFL Commissioner

* - 2 letters were sent due to multiple addresses.


The following letter was sent to those who oversee the Nascar and Indy Racing circuits:

In 1913, 73 people were crushed to death in the Italian Hall Disaster in Calumet, Michigan.  This event is generally regarded as the basis for placing reasonable limitations on the First Amendment.  Most refer to it as "falsely shouting fire in a crowded theater."  Roughly a century later, allow me to pose a similar question.  Is it conceivable to text "fire" at a crowded racing venue?  If a significant number of individuals received a text message conveying IMMINENT DANGER and/or the NEED TO IMMEDIATELY EVACUATE, the consequences could be catastrophic.  It would likely result in an artificially generated stampede.

Following the Virginia Tech massacre in 2007, companies offering mass text alerts became more commonplace.  Many of these companies offer SMS (short message service) systems to anyone willing to pay for them.  It's just a matter of time before someone with a pernicious agenda opts to utilize this platform.  Furthermore, a perpetrator would probably seek maximum impact as it would likely be a one-time occurrence.  

While security and safety measures have been greatly enhanced in the last decade, there has never been a credible plan to safely evacuate an auto racing facility in the event of a sudden panic.  Why?  Because it's simply not logistically feasible.  We have already witnessed the evolution of flash mobs and the recent spread of dangerous viral text hoaxes.  The prospect of hacking and manipulating a text alert system or cellular service provider represents the gravest concern.  But it's simply the mere existence and availability of lengthy lists of cell phone numbers corresponding to individuals in a confined location.  This, combined with the established level of trust placed in emergency SMS communication, represents the underlying problem.  

While I doubt that I am the first person to conceive of this potential threat, I do suspect this is the first time you've heard about an artificially generated stampede.  Other than virally spread text hoaxes, I've seen nothing about deliberately transmitting false texts in an attempt to create a sudden, mass panic.  There seems to be no discussion of this asymmetric security issue in the public domain.  And if you connect the dots between large crowds and the potential misuse of SMS technology, I think you'll agree that my concerns are justified.  Please consider the following:

    •     The potential for hacking or intentional misuse of any relevant text notification system.  Due to their wider accessibility, socially driven media platforms such as Twitter represent another area of concern.   
   
    •      The acquisition of cloned cell phone lists linked to racing fans and speedway employees.  A spoofed (disguised) message could easily be configured to appear as though it was sent from an opt-in notification system.

    •      A message originating from a wireless carrier.  You may recall the December 12, 2011"Civil Emergency: Take Shelter Now" alert sent to Verizon customers in central New Jersey.  Termed a "malicious hoax" by Monmouth County Sheriff Shaun Golden, the event remains unexplained.  Although an apology was issued, there has been no admission of negligence or responsibility.

Being a whistle blower for a hypothetical national security threat is not something I relish, but I cannot in good conscience remain silent.  So in accordance with the Department of Homeland Security's "If You See Something, Say Something" campaign, I have made a moral determination to send you this letter.  I would encourage you to research this issue and take preventative action.  And while this problem is well beyond my area of expertise, I do have some suggestions.

    •    Acknowledge and prepare for an unpleasant reality.  In the event of an artificially generated stampede, any emergency evacuation protocol would most certainly be rendered useless.

    •    Understand that your incident commander may not have ultimate control over the content, timing and delivery of an evacuation order.  This represents a profoundly changed dynamic in stadium security.

    •    Assess the security of any cell phone lists associated with fans and speedway employees.        
   
    •    Be cognizant of the timing and context of official social media updates.

    •     Employ a looped message via the public address system warning fans of the possibility of an artificially generated stampede.          
   
    •     Include an assumption of risk disclaimer on the ticket stub similar to a foul ball or broken bat warning: Cellular communication devices can be used to create artificially generated stampedes.  If you receive a message demanding an immediate evacuation, wait for official confirmation from the public address system.

    •     Conduct general awareness campaigns as a matter of policy.  A simple slogan such as "Think before you run" could prove very effective in thwarting a text-induced stampede.     

An event of this nature would likely not be a hoax or accident.  It would be executed with malicious intent.  Crowded auto racing facilities provide one of the most easily recognizable targets.  As the leaders of the organizations that put people into these crowded and therefore potentially dangerous environments, you have a moral obligation to warn people about the dangers of panic-laden text messages.  We need to raise awareness before a catastrophe transpires.  There will be no dress rehearsal.

I believe that the federal government will not address this issue until after a disaster has occurred.  Therefore, I would implore you to work with each other and exercise your considerable influence with state and local governments.  It is imperative to devise a time-sensitive game plan.  I am willing to meet with you personally to review this matter.  Please contact me if you have any questions or concerns.

"There are risks and costs to a program of action, but they are far less than the long-range risks and costs of comfortable inaction." - John F. Kennedy


Respectfully,

Eric Saferstein
contact information omitted

This letter was sent to the following individuals:

brian barnhart, irl
brian z. france, nascar
charles burns, irl
gerry cavis, nascar
mike helton, nascar
randy bernard, irl

Mitt Romney official website screw-up

I wanted to see what time the Mitt Romney fundraising stop will hit the White Palace on Thursday.  So I went to the official website.  Anyone care to spot the error.  I'll betcha $10,000 you can find it.  It's an easy one.

http://www.politico.com/2012-election/calendar/mitt-romney/?date=2012-05-03

Hard to believe that a man worth 300 million can't hire someone to adequately proof his site.  At least there is a Wheeling, Illinois.  Our alter-ego town does exist.  So I guess the blunder isn't that bad.  And hey, it's not like Mitt has this Grateful Dead-like following who travel around the country grasping at every attempt to see their hero in action.  On second thought, allow me to retract that.  I've seen a few of his campaign rallies.  "Dead-like" is an adequate characterization of the crowd.   They have this entranced, catatonic gaze when he launches into that off-kilter rendition of America the Beautiful.