David Cross, 2-18-16, Pittsburgh

Gigi and I made a relatively last minute decision to go see David Cross.  Probably the funniest comedian who reminds me of myself.  Strangely ironic that I have NEVER seen an episode of Arrested Development, eh?  My only knowledge of the man comes from a single CD he released in 2002 entitled "Shut Up You Fucking Baby."  It came out right on the heels of 9/11 so the material gets pretty contentious.  I'm not much of a "comedic connoisseur," but this is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard.  Definitely in my Top 5. 

The show sold-out a while ago, but knowing our penchant for unorthodox ticket acquisition, we made the trek over to stunning Munhall (inner Homestead right on the cusp of Matzoh Ball Soup territory a/k/a Squirrel Hill). 

Although I do not know the man, we do share a common ancestry --- that being Atheist Assholic Jew Fuck.  Kind of a warped lineage I suppose.  Like I said, we don't know Cross personally , but I imagine he'd appreciate our increasingly "lighthearted, passive aggressive" panhandling style.  However, on this occasion, we paid the 40 bucks.  Oddly enough, they turned out to be "his" tickets.  Likely ones he had reserved for family and friends.  10 rows back, dead center. 

Unfortunately, the guy sitting next to Gigi had this rampant, mutant B.O.  Yep, right outta Seinfeld.  He was one of those hipster dufii, bearded lumberjacks that defiantly reject the conceptual nature of deodorant.  Who knows, probably had a beef with Proctor and Gamble testing their products on defenseless bunny rabbits.  The scented, arm-pitted wrath wafted upon those all around us.  It was the kind of olfactory stench that gives you this dulled, boorish headache.  Pure and belligerent.  Unrelenting.  Permeating deep into the cerebellum.  So you try to breathe exclusively through your mouth.  Then it becomes, inhale through your mouth and exhale through your nose.  Then, you just give up and realize that you're attending the Pixburgh equivalent of a religious pilgrimage in Southern India.

Cross came out on stage with a local tribute to Primanti's.  I've always thought this makes for decent fodder.  What's up with the sacred yearning to throw a heap of coleslaw and some relatively burnt fries directly onto the sammich?  As if the act itself inspires culinary heroism.  And why do the yinzers celebrate accordingly?  As if it was the combined resurrection of Myron Cope and the adult circumcision of Bill Peduto.  Cue the towel waving.

Just an aside, David Cross looks (and even sounds) like my buddy Paul Clune.  They both have similarly resonating vocal chords.  Even their speech pattern and inflection.  Strange indeed.  Here's a pic of him and Jessarooni.  Judge for yourself.

I admire Cross because of his real-world, storytelling delivery.  It's one thing to tell jokes and one-liners.  It's entirely another to relay poignant stories.  He knows the difference.  Sadly, half the population doesn't get it.  All they like is knock knock, priest-rabbi-Chewbacca walk into a bar, or kick to the groin action sequence.  Yeah, those are funny too.  In an urban Hee-Haw setting I suppose.  Just ain't my thang.

The opening piece was pretty strong.  A tattoo parlor in California whose motto was "you get what you get."  Probably not the best slogan for memorializing the tragic death of your 6 year old daughter who fell prey to a senseless act of gun violence.  Well, it is what it is.  You get what you get.  As far as tattoos go, I've noticed how the general population has grown increasingly serpentine and amphibious.  After all, twas was the great Maury Povich who once asked a guest, "You're a lizard, aren't you?"  I've often toyed with the idea of getting the first ever inverted cross, male tramp stamp.  Hey, if there's room on this planet for all those disturbing depictions of the cruxifiction.  Well then, Saffy should be allowed to sport some sexy demonic ink of his own.  What's right is right! 

A much better bit --- his harangue about the "culture of hero worship" surrounding the Founding Fathers.  Cross went off on the current Republican brand --- the incessant, mindless repetition of constitutional infallibility.  The judgement of the Founding Fathers will NOT be questioned.  Never!  Ever!  Despite the fact that many owned slaves and held archaic views about women's rights, civil rights, really any rights.  But if you like freedom... and most of us do, how fucking dare you besmirch the prevailing integrity of our country's forefathers!  Seriously, I'd like to see Ted Cruz dawn one of those creepy wigs.  If they truly wish to inspire the faithful clods at the Republican National Convention in Cleveland this summer (we'll be there on the protesting periphery), then put yer fuckin' wig on and git 'er dun.

I also enjoyed his piece about random encounters with those who excessively curse out loud... for no apparent reason whatsoever.  Just walking down the street --- "You cunt mother fucker piece of shit cocksucking asshole."  Truth be told, for many, it's just a way of life.  I seem to attract these people... like flies to a pile of shit.  Me being the defecation destination of your dreams.  Here's an excerpt from my odd-oh biography circa the early 90's.

Bears Against Drugs

So the time seemed right to re-enroll in school (West Liberty State College) and finish my degree.  But I still needed a job.  Enter the famed West Virginia Troopers Association and their notorious Bears Against Drugs program.  This was nothing more than a glorified telemarketing organization which sold "holiday inspired gift assortments" manufactured by a company called Smoky Mountain Secrets based out of Knoxville, Tennessee.  When selecting which gift box, the options were plentiful.  The jellies and preserves were the most common choice.  Not a fan of gelatinous substances or even speaking the word "jelly," I would normally push the steak sauces and seasonings.  This seemed more conducive to the overall sales pitch.  Other options included overpriced mustard, costly salad dressings and the much heralded fruit syrups.  Despite all the exquisite culinary choices, the entire operation was barely legitimate.  I wouldn't call it a complete scam though.  At least you got some jars of jam.  I spent over 3 years calling residents throughout northern West Virginia and Eastern Ohio.  Between carrying a full class load, working about 30 hours a week and partying my ass off, it was a rough ride.  But observing employee behavior helped see me through.

Most of the employees had the ability to speak extemporaneously, but from time to time they'd hire someone who could neither read nor write.  Our boss had a simple hiring policy.  Keep all the phones manned and push the shit out.  One memorable employee was this guy Neck Tattoo.  Neck Tattoo was very passionate but incapable of reading the fallback script.  And his communicative abilities were noticeably subpar.  Occasionally customers would pose the question, "Where does the money go?"  This was an edgy question because the entire operation was always under legal scrutiny.  When confronted with "what do you do with the money" here was the preferred response... "Some of the proceeds are used to purchase small teddy bears.  We place them in all the troopers' cruisers so if they come upon a child who has been traumatized in an accident, we can give them a teddy bear.  Ma'am, just clutching that teddy bear helps calm and reassure the child until a professional can tend to their emotional needs."  Keep in mind, this response was for people with minimal communication skills.

Well, during his brief time with Bears Against Drugs, Neck Tattoo was on the receiving end of the infamous "where does the money go" question.  I was seated nearby.  Let me do my best to recreate the conversation.

Elderly Woman:  "I'm just curious.  What do you do with the proceeds?"

Neck Tattoo:  "Yes ma'am, the money goes to the troopers."

Elderly Woman:  "Could you please be more specific?"

Neck Tattoo starts to lightly perspire:  "Troopers give 'em Teddy Hug-A-Bear."

Elderly Woman (speaking in a frail tone): "I don't know what you mean."

An agitated but confident Neck Tattoo: "Yes ma'am, they give 'em Hug-A-Bear.  It makes 'em understand."

Elderly Woman: "Excuse me?"

Neck Tattoo (lurching into the phone):  "Hug-A-Bear!  They get Hug-a-Bear!"

Elderly Woman: "Huh?"

A suddenly irate and exasperated Neck Tattoo jumps to his feet.  He places the phone directly perpendicular to his mouth and screams at the top of his lungs, "Hug-A-Bear!  I said Hug-A-Bear!  It makes 'em understand ma'am.  Trooper give 'em Hug-A-Bear!  Makes 'em understand!" 

At this moment and utterly clueless, the frightened elderly woman chose to hang up.  A flabbergasted Neck Tattoo turns to me and says, "The bitch didn't want no jellies."

Another employee was the reclusive Whiskey Thermos.  Whiskey Thermos was an ill-tempered man.  He had an unusual demeanor.  Calm and reserved yet prone to excessive and disconnected cursing. 

For example, as he strolled to the restroom he'd mutter, "I can't believe it's already fucking god damn dark outside.  Daylight savings shit."  Or when pouring a cup of coffee, he would say, "We're outta creamer again.  What the fuck am I supposed to do?  Cum in it?"  

But one shining moment really stood apart from the rest.  His daughter had come to pick him up at the end of the night.  "He looked at her and casually inquired, "Why you late you daughter clit bitch?"  Was the genitalia reference necessary?  Yes, for him, I believe it was.

The Bears Against Drugs operation folded the following year.  I got the impression that similar programs elsewhere came under attack from the attorneys general of neighboring states.  So I took all this acquired wisdom and experience and set out on my own.


The David Cross tour was aptly entitled "Making America Great Again."  I wish he'd more thoroughly explored this angle.  I have a hunch he will as the dates progress.  Obviously, his tour was designed to coincide with the Republican presidential primary and beyond.  Great timing!  The material is literally cuming to a theater near you.  Spewing itself forth, courtesy of Fox, MSNBC and CNN.  Like stained, unwelcome ejaculate on the comforter.

The show ended semi-abruptly.  Reminiscent of the Chris Christie presidential campaign.  Who could've possibly fathomed that he'd reemerge?  Lending his endorsement to Trump, of course.  Who woulda thunk it --- from one titanic loudmouth to another jag-off blowhard.

After the show ended, we could have talked to him outside and maybe gotten a photo.  But I don't normally do celeb pictures.  Except this one.  And when I do, it's usually not a good omen for those involved.  Poor Mr. Vedder.  I doubt he fathomed having to deal with my stampede shit.  Hey, we all gotta pay our dues.  Such is life.

So we bolted and snagged a few gyros on the Southside, zipped home and wolfed them down.  Yummo Goodo.  Not suitable for lent I suppose.  The Pittsburgh Catholic coalition should really resurrect that Dr. Demento song around this time of year --- Fish heads, fish heads, rolly poly fish heads, fish heads, fish heads, eat them up, yum.

Springsteen Review, 1-16-16, Pittsburgh

I've seen some sold-out concerts at Consol Energy Center.  Paul McCartney and Billy Joel come to mind.  But I don't think I've ever seen the place as jam-packed as it was last night.  Gave new meaning to the word rafter.  Hey, what better a city to open The River tour than Pixburgh?

You often hear the term "sold-out."  It's popular lingo for the scalpers.  Helps fetch that extra, much heralded zero off some Sewickley high school ginger kid.  Even when there are still tickets for sale at the box office.  Just say that magic word and every ounce of discretion and common sense goes flying out the window.  Not that it matters.  Most people don't care.  After all, it's only money.  Right?

Last night was one of those nights.  Me and G headed into the fray around 6pm.  Our libations for the evening --- 19 Crimes and Fetzer (both Cabs).  Just for the record, we're big fans of 19 Crimes.  If you see it, snag it.  Much like the refrain outside the arena.  If you see something, say something.  What a great motto!  Hey, I say something all the time, but nobody LISTENS.

Possibly the finest wine of the prestigious sub-$10 genre.  We also like Rex Goliath Free Range Red.  Just replace that delicate wine glass with an Aquafina water bottle.  I call it "de-cork, pour-in, un-screw, drink-up."   

Gigi scored a freebie immediately off some dude.  A little over an hour passed and we just couldn't snag another ticket.  Some woman emerged from the nearby church and handed a panhandler 2 print-outs.  I asked him where the tickets were located.  He had no idea.  He whipped out his lighter and took a closer look.  Section 119.  $142 plus service charge.  Not bad.  A retail value of just over $300.  I hope he got a good deal.  I imagine it was more profitable than his spare change routine.  At least I would hope.

On the cusp of showtime, I asked a curbside woman who emerged from an uber-car.  She had one extra.  The scalpers began to lurch in.  Sensing that my time-sensitive, freebie routine might be annoying and probably get rejected, I offered her $20.  She shrugged with semi-indifference and we made the exchange.  Aside from the free parking, it was likely my smartest move of the night.

Now you're probably thinking, "Wait one cotton pickin' minute!  Saf, I thought you NEVER pay.  Isn't it a matter of some warped sense of pride?  Wouldn't it bring shame to your children... and their children... and future generations.  Newsflash: we don't have kids.  3 cats and a temporary weekend visit from Abigail a/k/a the lil' doggie consisting of half dog, quarter gremlin, quarter hamster, smidgeon of genetic rodent.

But no kids.  Hence, the ethical code of conduct does not apply to "Scalping Jew" (the title of a book I intend to write in 2017, possibly sooner).

Anyway, we hit up the Captain Morgan Club over-hang and then got "upgraded" to the end seats in the loge section.  Plenty of room with our own waitress to boot.  FYI: the same seats belong to Franco Harris.  Ironic, as he surely went to Denver for the divisional round game.  Even greater irony, he's on the cover of my latest book "The Immaculate Rejection."

And even further irony.  The book has nothing to do with him or his famous/infamous catch.  And just to set the record straight, HE CAUGHT THE DAMN BALL.  Case closed.  Don't be fooled by the cover.  Words can be deceiving.  Or in this case... deadly.

Anyway, Springsteen and company literally stormed the stage with the full house lights on.  So cool.  More bands should consider doing this.  Then again, most couldn't pull it off.

I was telling Gigi that if they had scheduled the Steelers playoff game for the same day (the two events coincided), I bet he would have considered an old school "matinee" performance.  Wouldn't that have been crazy?  A 1pm Springsteen concert tour opener.  Fortunately, the NFL schedulers knew better.  Goodell and company got one right.  Who woulda thunk it?

Killer opener song.  Here's the version from Saturday Night Live a couple weeks ago.  It's strong but doesn't do justice compared to the version from last night.

For me, the highlights from "The River" portion of the set were Hungry Heart, Two Hearts (always loved this song) and Out in the Street.  Energy level was off the charts.  Typical fare for your average 3 hour+ Springsteen concert.

Towards the end of the set, they played a pretty cool Wrecking Ball.  Not a huge fan of the song, but I thoroughly enjoyed it... probably because I wasn't expecting it.  

They opened the encores with a poignant tribute to David Bowie.  Bruce went with "Rebel Rebel" which was a relatively cool choice.  Not sure which gem I would've chosen.  Just too many out there.  I think "Fashion" would have worked in a funny kinda way for obvious reasons (because he usually wears jeans and a white t-shirt).

Great versions of Bobby Jean, a triumphant Born to Run and an amusing Dancing in the Dark in which he pulled a woman from the audience who towered over everybody.  Seriously, she must have been 6'4".  Maybe played for the WNBA.  She should have danced with Little Steven instead.

One of my least favorite Springsteen tunes is Rosalita.  And I don't care for the obligatory Shout closer either.  Rest assured, I was in the minority.  Always gotta close on a down-note.

Setlist:

Meet Me in the City

The Ties That Bind

Sherry Darling

Jackson Cage

Two Hearts

Independence Day

Hungry Heart

Out In The Street

Crush On You

You Can Look (But You Better Not Touch)

I Wanna Marry You

The River

Point Blank

Cadillac Ranch

I'm A Rocker

Fade Away

Stolen Car

Ramrod

The Price You Pay

Drive All Night

Wreck On The Highway

Badlands

Wrecking Ball

Backstreets

Because the Night

The Rising

Thunder Road

Encores:

Rebel Rebel

Bobby Jean

Dancing in the Dark

Born to Run

Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)

Shout

Me and G have now seen The Boss 3 times, technically 4 (we went to a 2012 Obama "FORWARD re-election rally" at Soldiers and Sailors Hall in Oakland --- a prelude acoustic afternoon show before that evening's Consol Energy Center concert.  And there was his other concert w/ Tom Morello (Rage Against the Machine's guitarist subbed in for Silvio Dante).  Of the three, the 2012 show from that night was my favorite.  But last night was hard to beat.  

If we see him again, I'm going to legally change my name for one day.  That is correct.  Safsteen.  Just like former mayor Luke Ravenstahl changed his name to Steelerstahl.  And speaking of the Steelers... good luck today.  They're going to need it.  Last night we took our terrible towels.  If you were there, I have a hunch you may have seen us.  

On a final note, here's a free idea for the Springsteen marketing crew.  Next time he comes to Pittsburgh, make 5,000 limited edition "Springsteen terrible towels."  Not only could you double the customary price from $5.00 to $10.00, you could probably quadruple it to $20.  People are suckers.  And you'll get that whole arena whipped into a frenzy.  As if it would even be necessary.

Shorting the NFL

Gigi and I went to see The Big Short last weekend.  I highly recommend it.

It was our inaugural trip to the AMC Loews Waterfront Cinemas.  The venue itself is spectacular.  Kind of a monster movie mega-plex.  Located in Homestead, you can almost imagine Godzilla emerging outta the Mon and making his way to the Southside.  Stomping on drunken college kids and devouring the disc-lobed, tatted freaks.

Big Short, featuring our mutual hero Steve Carrell, basically documents the sub-prime mortgage bundling debacle of 2008 which precipitated an extreme market crash and the public bailout of the big banks.  The entire financial sector got pummeled.  Trillions in market cap vanished.  Pensions were annihilated.  People lost their homes, life savings, etc.  And the entire country spiraled into an economic depression.  No big deal really.

Afterward, we had some sushi at Yokoso, a mid-scale Japanese steakhouse, and talked about the two major human emotions that fundamentally guide the markets.  They are, drum roll please...  fear and greed.  If you ever need a quickie definition for capitalism, that's a pretty good one.  The balance struck between fear and greed.

Back to the movie.  Nobody in government or on Wall Street could fathom the implosion of the entire housing industry.  Why?  Because everyone was sucking at the proverbial mortgage teat.  After all, the multi-trillion dollar housing market is the backbone of the American economy.  To hedge your bets against it would be like wagering on Fidel Castro during the Cuban Missile Crisis. 

But like all monetary bubbles, it eventually burst.  It all came crashing down.  Everyone had over-extended themselves on worthless piles of paper shit.  My father's basement poker group comes to mind.  When a player was dealt a bad hand, they'd often lash out, "You deal like a man with a paper asshole!" 

I've witnessed a few market sector bubbles in my time.  Biotech and internet start-ups come to mind.  Like I said, they're all grounded in greed.  Hell, why be fearful when the money's pouring in and everybody's celebrating like their team just made the playoffs and is marching towards the Super Bowl?

Throughout the entire movie, I kept getting this sense of deja-vu.  Like I was experiencing their trials and tribulations vicariously.  Guess what?  It's true.  No, I'm not some billionaire hedge fund manager.  But I do spearhead an organization that pits me in direct opposition to the NFL, NCAA, MLB, NASCAR, NHL and the NBA.  What the hell, I'll even throw in Major League Soccer.  And oh yeah, I'm also trying to ignite a confrontation with the federal government (legislative, executive, judicial branches and all the applicable agencies DHS, FBI, FCC, etc.). 

I typically provide an explanation.  For now... all you get is the link.  Let's just say that NOBODY has the guts to take me on.  Artificially Generated Stampede Awareness Foundation

People have a fundamental right to know...

that if they're in a large, confined crowd and receive an evacuation order 
and/or panic-inducing information from their cell phone or mobile device...

it's almost certainly a malicious hoax designed to create an artificially generated stampede.

As I see it, here are the 3 major similarities applicable to the AGSAF mission statement and the bank/insurance/brokerage meltdown of 2008.

1.  Lack of trading instruments

When the key characters in the movie wanted to short the housing market, they quickly realized it was impossible.  There weren't any readily available "instruments" to carry out the margin strategy because the concept was "unheard of."  This brand of credit default swaps wasn't available.  They basically had to create them.  Largely, because such an action had never been executed in the past.  Hey, if every segment of the industry always gets an "A" rating... if the full weight of the federal government always has their back... if the entire business model has always been considered "safe, sound and secure"... who would be foolish enough to bet against it?

If you want to invest against the NFL, there's really no way to do it.  I suppose you could dance around the edges.  Since they have a considerable stake in the all-inclusive game day package, you might consider a margin play with DirecTV.  But how effective could that possibly be?  You might be able to bet against a single franchise, like say, if you knew the city of Detroit was going into mega-default, super-bankruptcy, as opposed to just being bankrupt.  But the Lions ownership, despite their perpetual losing record and shoddy management, still rake in generous profits. And there's just no way to invest against stadium construction.  You can protest and picket I suppose, but if things really get out of hand, the NFL and major city governments will squash you like a bug.

Roger Goodell is publicly on record stating that he expects the NFL to increase its revenue from 10 billion to 25 billion by 2027.  Not too shabby!  The NFL might experience some minor setbacks from time to time (isolated scandals, teams relocating, attendance drop-offs, various lawsuits, etc.).  But all in all, it's somehow immune to the private sector laws of supply and demand.  I guess the fundamental laws of Economics 101 don't apply so much.  Does this make sense?

2.  HUBRIS

In the movie, all these powerful CEOs (Goldman Sachs, Bear Stearns, Lehman Brothers, etc.) never saw the crash coming.  Why?  Because they fell prey to their own hubris.  All of them were surrounded by sychophants as the money kept pouring in.  The tiered mortgage structure went out the window.  Every loan became doable.  No money down?  No problem.  We'll just make it a variable interest rate instead of a fixed.  Temporarily unemployed?  No W-2?  Don't sweat it.  We'll just label you as self-employed.  Can't do 20% down?  No problem, we'll let you put down 5%.  Income verification?  Who gives a shit.  Not a legal citizen?  We'll get your dog Fido to cosign.

My point --- nobody got turned down.

Now if you ever needed a definition of hubris, look no further than the NFL.  Every owner is a billionaire.  30 of them are multi-billionites.  With a net worth of 18 billion, Paul Allen (Seahawks owner, co-Microsoft founder) makes them all look like paupers.  Go Hawks.  Other than anonymous internet bloggers, do you think anybody has the audacity to challenge this select group of people.  Uhh, no.

The NFL is the ultimate adult playground.  The bullies that run the show don't like being told what to do.  And money ALWAYS takes precedence.  Just look at Stan (the 2nd wealthiest owner) Kroenke's move to Los Angeles and the new stadium in Inglewood, CA (2019).  The city of St. Louis never stood a chance.

3.  WILLFUL or DELIBERATE IGNORANCE

Leading up to the financial devastation, Wall Street and the federal government didn't want to challenge the status quo.  They had nothing to gain and everything to lose --- a very dangerous combination.  Just ask Mr. Miyagi of Karate Kid fame.  Must have balance.

Nobody currently has a vested interest in solving the NFL's problem (outdated emergency stadium evacuation protocol).  Why?  Because it's counter-intuitive to all the money rolling in.  It's a voluntary admission that a venue COULD be unsafe.  This further manifests itself through issues of plausible deniability and hypothetical litigation.  In a word... MONEY. 

The theory that nobody will ever test this dynamic is absurd.  Eventually, someone will execute the modern, technological equivalent of shouting FIRE in a crowded theater.  Whether or not they're successful is NOT the issue.  You need to acknowledge the problem and devise a contingency plan.  In this case, it's simple.  JUST TELL PEOPLE THE TRUTH.  It doesn't cost anything.  In a word... FREE.

Because if this actor knows what they're doing (wireless carrier hack, opt-in notification abuse, spam, spoofed emails, bulk texting, reverse 911 manipulation, social media saturation, targeting of local news, Stingray technology, viral blitzkrieg a/k/a infobomb, Miniature Hero, Badger, or any combination thereof)... it could very well be a "lights out" scenario... also known as a DOMINIPEDE.

Everyday, I spam the NFL and various presidential candidates.  Although most of the feedback is negative, I consider it time well spent.  Here's the message I use for every NFL team's facebook page.  We'll use the heroic Rams owner for an example...


STAN KROENKE --- Our troops protect and defend your lavish, multi-billion dollar lifestyle. If you have the moral courage to publicly acknowledge my concerns, I'll make a $2,500 donation to the Wounded Warrior Project (on your behalf). You don't even have to attempt an answer. Just raise the issue.

Every NFL stadium has 50,000 - 100,000 active wireless devices capable of receiving real-time, false information. Shouldn't the NFL explicitly warn its fans that official emergency evacuation orders would NEVER be delivered via their personal cell phones?

Reason being, if something like this were to happen... it's almost certainly a malicious hoax designed to create an "artificially generated stampede." Hint: Legit evac orders come from the public address system in tandem with the video monitors. NOT CELL PHONES. agsaf.org/the-nfls-dirty-little-secret-2

The federal government and private industry won't go anywhere near this cyber-security threat... unless there's a tragedy first. Just some common sense, public safety info that nobody's allowed to talk about.

The following teams have blocked me for posting this question (Steelers, Bengals, Raiders, Seahawks, Panthers, Eagles, Texans, Saints, Titans).  What team will be next? 

If you support freedom of speech, hit the LIKE button. agsaf.org (Artificially Generated Stampede Awareness Foundation)


Surprisingly, the Rams haven't blocked me... yet.  Though, I did notice something peculiar.

Every NFL team usually makes about 4-5 social media posts per day.  On game day, that number of posts usually doubles.

On January 11, 2015, right before the NFL owners meeting in Houston on the 12th, the Rams suspended their use of facebook.  They haven't posted anything.  And now it's the 15th.  How long will this self-imposed social media blackout last?  I'm guessing about a week.

So what happened during the meeting?  Answer: the Rams officially abandoned Missouri.

The question is WHY?  So why did the Rams social media department cease posting?  Well, obviously they anticipated a backlash of immeasurable proportions.  They knew everyone would go to the team's facebook page and blast the living fuck out of ownership and management.  Rather than absorb a dose of their own medicine, they made a calculated decision to purposely limit their exposure.

My point to all of this.  It's exactly how the NFL operates.  It's business as usual.  The St. Louis Rams are the perfect microcosm for the entire league.  If there's bad news to be had, then just use this time honored formula --- conceal, distract, disguise, obscure and avoid.  Remember that Concussion movie?  Is any of this starting to make sense?  http://www.agsaf.org/is-the-nfl-hiding-something-bigger-than-cte

Now here's the problem.  And it's a big one.  When dealing with a black swan, asymmetric cyber-security threat, the NFL won't be afforded a dress rehearsal.  You don't get a second chance.  There ain't no preseason.

It's just like the financial sector in 2008 all over again.

And don't even get me started on the 9/11 parallels. http://www.agsaf.org/the-rick-rescorla-comparison

How Trump Could Win in 2016

First off, a disclaimer:  I deplore Donald Trump.  He makes me physically sick to my scalp... and to a lesser extent, my stomach.

So here's how he can win it all.

For the primary, I'd stick with his general game plan.  Dominate the news cycle at any cost.  Keep hurling insults at all the mainstream candidates and hope they fear the damaging stigma from dropping out.  It's a smart tactic.  Most of these candidates (Rubio, Christie, Cruz, Bush) are relatively young.  They got a long way to go.  Don't wish to be perceived as having caved to the bullying and the pressure.  Plus, they're all victims to their own hubris.

Now for the general election, let's assume it's Hillary vs. Trump.  But let's throw in a wildcard.  MICHAEL BLOOMBERG, former multi-billionaire mayor of New York City.  If, and I know it's a big if.  IF Bloomberg runs, he'll do so as an independent.  This throws a monkey wrench into the entire electorate.

Bloomberg would run as a left-leaning, independent.  Money would not be an issue.  I think he's worth 40 billion or so.  Trump looks like a pauper in comparison.  And to add insult to injury, Bloomberg steals the Hollywood Jew and the Greenspanish banking vote from both sides.

Anyway, Bloomberg would run as some kind of pragmatic, billionaire populist and really pulverize Hillary's margins from the left.  It's the exact same dynamic that killed Bush Sr. in 1992.  Ross Perot ran as an outsider, fiscal conservative.  But everything happened from the right.  And Bill Clinton nailed the plurality.  You like that?

I really can't throw in Bernie yet.  Even if he wins Iowa AND New Hampshire, it won't be by much.  Hillary can say they're neck and neck and it's a long way to the finish line.  Then her money machine and special interests will go to work.  You won't be able to #feelthebern, because her PACs will #destroythebern.  Regardless of his "momentum," she'll dispose of him on Super Tuesday.

So here's my prediction.  Assuming all things remain generally stagnant for 2016 (no 9/11s), I think it will be Hillary vs. Trump.  If it's just those two, I think Hillary takes it in an absolute landslide.  I think she wins the entire electoral college.  All 50 states.  Not joking.  Unprecedented.

However, if Bloomberg were to run (and I think he will because he sees himself as an activist, risk-taker), I guarantee that Trump wins the presidency.  It would be tight... but in the end, it's merely a numbers game.  The presidential market share and societal percentages have zero emotion.  Trump would squeak through.  Unless of course... he winds up dead (a distinct possibility).

And that's how an obnoxious blowhard, arrogant douchebag, foreign policy ignoramus, pseudo-racist, carnival barking assholic asshole becomes the next president of the United States. 

the horrible hanger

Last year around this time, I wrote a book and threw it up on the internet.  It could very well be the worst book ever written.  By "worst" I mean crude, obnoxious, disgusting, repugnant, revolting, putrid, vile, despicable and unrelentingly sickening.  No need to even consult a thesaurus.  Such a resource would never do the description adequate justice.

However, there's some good news!  A book this atrocious is free... of course. 

Spoiler Alert: I refuse to divulge the premise or content.  Let's just say that if the Steelers go on a playoff rampage, it will be promoted throughout social media like the Old Testament in a Southern Baptist church, like venomous snakes on the pulpit, like trickling blood stains on the cross...

Anyway, if you read the book, you'll discover that the Steelers Sideline Store at Heinz Field is not your only source for officially licensed NFL gear.  I came up with my own line of authentic merch!
But there's a big difference.  Just like the book, my shit's free.  Is it any wonder Art Rooney II hates my guts? 


Breaking News: It's the NFL. It's always about the money. Nothing more, nothing less.

So without further adieu, here's some of the featured items in my book AND an exclusive sneak-peak at something new, something different.  No... not a gift box of fruit syrups.  I've termed it "The Horrible Hanger."  But first, let's journey back in time Huey Lewis-style.

The Yinzer Yarmulke

The main character, a 5th grader named Sid from Squirrel Hill, proudly sports this holy headgear throughout the book.  Well, up until the 8th chapter when he has an unfortunate encounter with a holy priest in a Heinz Field restroom.

The Terrible Twirler 

In the event you forget your terrible towel, this nasty whipping device (comprised of 10 Steelers hemp key chains) makes for a fantastic substitute!  Just toss it in a 6"12"6" clear plastic bag and head on in.  Just make sure you adhere to the strict guidelines for stadium entry.  

The above link ^^^ represents one of the greatest moments in the history of post-9/11 television.

Let's see.  There's also the Terrible Turban, the Terrible Twat-Rag and the Black'n'Gold Burqa.  I'll refrain from those descriptions.  Sometimes it's best to leave a little bit to the imagination --- a woeful narrative the book refuses to adhere to.

However, I promised you the "Horrible Hanger."  And by the grace of God... here it is.

Behold the rich polyester history, in all its colorful glory.  Truth be told, most of these rags were "rescued" from the concrete and asphalt, in and around the the stadium.  And you probably thought the "horrible hanger" was a back alley abortion reference.

I made that contraption a couple weeks ago and it proudly sits in our basement.  It's currently open to ANYONE heading to the game.  Ideally, it will function as a lost and found or as a "give a penny/take a penny" at the cash register.  Towels are an integral part of spectator sports... except on the golf course, of course.  I once found a nice golf towel in the woods at Speidel (hole #8).  Score!  But when I showed it to my buddy, he gave me this look of consternation and said, "Saf, some guy probably used it to wipe his ass."  I gave it some thought and dropped it on the tee box.  Hopefully, twas not the end of that towelie's journey.  Definitely worthy of a GPS locator.

The irony here is this.  In 100+ games, I've NEVER taken a towel into the stadium.  I've smuggled in all kinds of beer, wine, food, recreational accessories, etc.  But never a towel.  

It's doubtful the Steelers will get a home playoff game.  They need to win 2 and have Cincy lose 2.  Possible but not probable.  And it's widely speculated that they're currently the hottest team, the one that nobody wants to encounter.  So here's the deal.  This year, I hit up all 8 home games as well as the 3, count 'em 3, preseason ones.  To properly honor the impending playoff run, I will provide a brief description of each.

Mad props to the Steelers marketing department... for the most boring, uninspired ticket design of the last decade.  Incidentally, the last time I went to every home game (2005), they ended up winning the Superbowl.  Could it be an omen?  A portent if you will.  Or could it signal the next 9/11 --- a dominipede?  Time will tell.  Time.

PRESEASON

August 9: Steelers 3, Vikings 14

Hall of Fame Game in Canton.  Gigi and I took it to the streets.  I even blogged about my extensive travels from that weekend.

August 2:  Steelers 24, Packers 19

The day after my birthday.  Always cool to see Green Bay come to town.

September 3:  Steelers 6, Panthers 23

If memory serves me correctly, we left before the half. Why do they always close the preseason against Carolina?  A mystery I've never tried to unravel.

REGULAR SEASON

September 10: Steelers 43, 49ers 18

Trouncing victory.  I had a hunch it would be a blowout.  Largely based on the additional 3 days of rest following the Patriots Thursday night season opener.  Factor in the 1pm East Coast time for a visit from the west coast 49ers and you had all the elements for strong showing.  Classic bounceback game.  The only game I paid money for ($40).  Spent too much time preaching, not enough time searching.

October 1: Steelers 20, Ravens 23 (OT)

Killer night game.  Sponged some nachos off Mikey and Ellen beforehand at Mullen's.  Hung out with the Michael Vick dog protesters for a little bit.  Scored a few extras and sold them accordingly.  Usually, I don't mind getting beat by the Ravens as long as it's a tight game.

October 18: Steelers 25, Cardinals 13

We got all the breaks.  They dominated us (time of possession-wise).  Turnovers sodomized them.  I find it amusing how every year without fail, the Cardinals always acquire our cuts and castaways.

November 1: Steelers 10, Bengals 16

Now that one stung. 

November 8: Steelers 38, Raiders 35

Probably my favorite game of the year.  Absolute thriller.  Gigi wore her Raiders shirt. 

November 15: Steelers 30, Browns 9

Had a brief encounter with Browns owner Jimmy Haslam.  Harassed him and his suited-ilk posse about the stampedes for the duration of their walk in between Gate C and Gate B.  One of his cronies said, "I hear what you're saying.  It's like shouting 'fire' in a crowded theater."  What an obliteration against the Brownies.  They truly are the definition of "hapless."  I like that Cleveland comedian who unleashes on behalf of all the season ticket holders.  Funny stuff.

If the Browns ever wish to rejoin us in the playoffs, they need to bring back Bernie Kosar or maybe Brian Sipe.  Worst case scenario, extend a helping hand to Trent Dildo.

December 6: Steelers 45, Colts 10

Tickets were everywhere.  Almost 10,000 no-shows.  I've said it before and I'll say it again.  The Steelers have the greatest fans in the world... well, except for one trivial fact.  Thousands of them routinely skip the games.  They just don't show up, especially the night games.  Those that do attend often leave early during the 2nd half.  Guilty as charged that night --- we exited midway through the 4th, just before Antonio Brown had the punt return and straddled the goal post.  Good wine (Free Range Red).  Good time.

December 20: Steelers 34, Broncos 27

Toughest ticket of the season.  Didn't think we'd secure entry but Gigi managed to dig deep and score a couple freebies.  Down at the half 28-10, but I had this strange confidence we'd come back and take it.  Once again, good wine (Cocobon Red Blend).  Good time.


And now... it's time.

Time for the Ravens game.  Steelers are -10 on the road.  Usually I hate those big spreads but I got a pretty good feeling about today.  Time will tell.  Time.

Top 10 Reasons Trump Might Get Whacked

As much as I despise that egomaniac, I do find Donald Trump to be somewhat of an iconic figure.  Probably because I admire his desire to shake up the system.  Something that's terribly needed in this era of political expediency, predictability and mediocrity.  A far cry from they way things used to be.

Anybody who runs for the presidency requires some degree of narcissism.  In all honesty, it should almost be a requirement for the highest office in the land.  Of course, Trump's smug, discombobulated arrogance takes it to a an entirely new level.  One of epic, unfathomable proportions. 

So before Carnie Wilson launches her North American Geico Insurance tour or the big pharma/Pfizer pharmaceutical weight loss tour (fat lady sings reference), here's why I think Trump might end up dead... possibly with a bullet to the head.

1.  The good 'ol U.S. of A has a long history of political assassinations.  I won't bore you with the litany of corpses.  Let's just say it extends beyond those who hold office.  This grim reality even applies to those who seek office.  To quote that shitty Nicklebacking Creedish song... it's been a while.  It just seems like we're long overdue for a shocking, politically inspired death... don't cha think?  And I can assure you, it ain't gonna be George Pataki.

2.  Trump just had the finest medical doctor in all the land proclaim that if elected, "he would be the most physically fit, healthiest president in the history of our country."  I find it a bit odd that Trump could even locate or manufacture a med school graduate who'd be willing to say something so absurd.  Seriously, what about JFK?  Obama seemed pretty fit when he took office.  Even George Bush was in decent shape except for when he almost died from choking on a pretzel.  I'll willingly concede that Trump's in better shape than a hefty Taft or the frailest of them all, William Henry Harrison (he died in thirty days).  But is he the greatest presidential specimen of all time?  I doubt it.   Does this have anything to do with a potential case of regicide?  Not really.  Just thought it was amusingly weak.

3.  Bullying and insults can come back to haunt you.  In life, there are certain equalizers.  A hit of acid can turn a 350 lb. offensive lineman into a whining baby or a sniveling coward.  Contrarily, a bullet to the head has the same effect on a Navy Seal or an Olympic athlete.  Universal laws apply to everyone... except the cops.  Trump is not immune.  He might just piss off the wrong person at the wrong time.  Even Trump planes and helicopters, elevators and escalators are prone to mechanical failure.  It might not be a customary hit.

3.  When your appeal is highlighted by low income, Southern white Republican voters, it might eventually come back to bite you in the ass.  This particular fan base is NOT receptive to betrayal.  For example, if Trump took an actual policy position on something specific, say... restricting gun purchases for those on the DO NOT FLY list.  Well, it might seem like a sensible position to him, but to the legions of varmint hunters who gotta go kill Bambi at any cost whatsoever... well, maybe not.  The NRA is a lot like Anonymous.  They do not forgive.  They do not forget.  They'd probably be able to convince a markswoman of Sarah Palin's stature to "off" Trump.  If she was unwilling to commit, maybe they could ask Bristol's new baby girl "Sailor."  Seriously, I was hoping she might name the kid "Driver" or "Pilot."

Reminds me of the time I convinced this girl from Bellaire to name her newborn baby girl "Chlamydia."  Ohhh, that sweet uncorrupted immaculate virgin birth. 

4.  What if someone's out there who fancies himself as an astute political observer or future historical operative (based on watching Fox News 24/7 of course)?  Based on Rupert Murdoch-guided, scientific polling of the highest standards, somebody might get the impression that Cruz or Rubio would stand a better chance against Hillary... and take matters into their own hands.

These days, in the past few decades, it's become pretty reasonable to assume that if you attain the presidency, you could be in there for 8 years, not just 4.  That's grounded in recent historical precedent --- Reagan, Clinton, Bush, Obama.  Eight years of Hillary and her "disgusting lies" about the most critical issues of our time (Benghazi and the email server) might just be too much for someone to take.  It might push them over the edge.  After all, it's like killing baby Hitler.  You'd be doing humanity a favor. 

5.  Trumps finds himself in some pretty unusual physical locations.  All these massive crowds and gatherings of the finest people.  They're all huge.  So many wonderful admirers who care about great things.  Important problems that call for big solutions.  These are tough times that demand strong leaders.  Maybe I should consider writing with that style of adjectivial alliteration.  On second thought, it probably wouldn't suit me.

Now those throngs of trained minions might make for good photo-ops on television, but it's also more difficult to secure the perimeters.  And all of these really smart people seem to have one thing in common.  All Christian, all white, all conservative, all devout, all outspoken, all patriots.  If it's strictly a numbers game, I'm going to bet that eventually, one of these principled followers might crack.  Percentages don't bode well for political absolutists who engage in continual ad hominem attacks and vitriolic harangues. I'm sure the Secret Service would vouch for me on this one.

6.  Speaking of the Secret Service, lately they've been spreading themselves pretty thin.  I hear they're in the critical final planning stages, configuring the details of how best to protect Chelsea Clinton's newest fetus.  It's called Operation G-Kid.  Not too mention the Reagan kids, the Bush girls and others.  It's a pretty extensive list that just keeps on growing.  Meanwhile, the whole organization is mired in all kinds of weird scandals (the prostitution busts in Columbia, the multiple deranged characters who've jumped the fence at the White House, some agent is always hooked on dope or being bribed, more death threats on social media than one could possibly comprehend, etc.).  Their director Julia Pearson?  Didn't she just resign a couple months ago?  What happens when there's no figurehead to push Congress for those much needed extra billions?  Newsflash:  They don't get the requisite funding.  The money gets redirected to more noble causes --- Boeing, fracking, caring (for Dick Cheney's chronic heart condition, of course).

7.  Karma's a bitch.  What comes around, goes around.  Eventually, one of these illegal immigrants shows up.  You know, one of the Mexican rapists or murderous criminals.  They smoke drugs, commit acts of thievery and intentionally impregnate teenage girls to secure Obamacare and birthright citizenship.  Perhaps just one of these illegal millions on the cusp of deportation will feel like they got nothing left to lose.  Fuck!  It's Texas, Mexico, Texaco or bust.  Not the most palatable of choices.

Maybe it's one of those barbaric Muslims who chop off the heads of defenseless Christians.  Maybe, just maybe, someone with an allegiance to the caliphate takes offense to the United States bombing the "shit out of them."  Hey, it turns out that social media is the "biggest" recruiting tool of them all.  Our bombing raids, military bases and rampant imperialistic endeavors have nothing to do with why "they hate us."

And not only must we figure out a way to take our country back, we also need to take OUR internet back.  Because the internet is ours.  It belongs to all of us here in the United States.  Well, except for Al Gore.  He's a stupid loser who lost to Bush.  If only Gore had surrounded himself with smarter people, he would have won.  Gore couldn't even win his home state of Tennessee.  What an idiot!  Instead, we got Bush and he ended up giving us Iraq.  See!  Foreign policy isn't that hard to understand. The outcomes are akin to a reality tv game show.

8. Along that same line of reasoning, extreme stances on issues with no room for intellectual debate or compromise could come back to haunt you.  When you embrace that kind of nationalistic populism (like most fascist leaders --- Hitler, Mussolini, etc.) it's fraught with backlash. Quite simply, you become the face of every problem.  YOU physically become the target.  Much like a deer in headlights at the Oglebay Festival of Shite.

There's a little "unspeakable" irony here.  Trump, who continually claims that everyone loves him (an unattainable position for ANY high profile politician... might just find out the hard way... that somebody actually hated his guts).  Hell, it's the same reason people hate me.

9.  Trump likes to flaunt himself as the greatest, the smartest, the boldest, the most important, the most feared, the most respected.  Historically speaking, those who commit political assassinations also see themselves as "larger than life."  What better a way to achieve that 15 minutes of fame... which would likely extend far beyond the obligatory 15 minutes as they would logically portray themselves as having altered the course of the country... if not the trajectory of humanity.  

10.  How about all that extemporaneous speaking?  Personally, I find it refreshing.  It's his one redeeming quality.  But eventually, something bad slips out.  Even worse than what slipped out during Hillary's bathroom break!  Now if you're The Donald, a deity with the sculpted mane of a Greek god like Zeus or Thor or whatever, you don't EVER walk things back.  If anything, when you say something particularly obnoxious, you just double down and fully commit.  You dig an even deeper hole.  It's his bizarre brand of presidential infallibility.  It's even more resolute than Catholic papal doctrine.  This might play well to a base of zealot extremists, but not the vast majority of moderate voters who realize the world is a complex place with shades of nuance on just about every issue.

*** BONE-US for Extra Credit ***  Most important, Trump's pissing off all these establishment people behind the scenes who benefit from maintaining their stranglehold with the 2 party political system.  The candidates running for office aren't the only people who've got a say in how things work.  I honestly don't think he realizes this.  He lives in this gold-plated vacuum with a diamond encrusted handle.  Sucking up all that grime and filth, not to mention naivete and ignorance.

It makes me wonder, what if Trump got the nomination but felt he was getting a "raw deal."  And then abandoned the Republican party?  He decided that everyone was just too stupid and inept and they were sinking his campaign.  Maybe a dash of paranoia --- Reince Preibus is actively trying to ruin my chance at the presidency... because he doesn't like me.  Such a publicity seeking stunt would appeal to his bipolar, twisted sense of urgency.  Plus, it's the perfect plan when he needs to bail.  That's if he finds himself losing out which I suspect would happen in a head-on match-up against Hillary (she'd win ALL 50 states).  In fact, I think it's exactly what would occur.  His ego would never allow for an honorable Romney-esque defeat.  It's just not how he thinks.  And it's definitely not how he acts.  Can anyone on this earth even fathom the concept of a Trump concession speech?  How would that go?  I should have won but the voters were just too stupid.  I hope you all go broke and your children starve to death.

All I'm sayin' is this.  If you make a deliberate, conscious decision to disrupt the powers that be... I don't care of you're a DemoCRIPP or a ReBLOODlican, bad things just seem to happen.  Our system can only handle so much antagonistic shit before the system itself retaliates.

The problem with Trump is that he'd never go quietly.  He'd seemingly take everyone down with him.   A blame game of immeasurable consequence.  Trust me, I don't envision Trump devoted to the notion of Omerta or even some lesser code of fiscal silence.

Jeb Bush Rebound Strategy

Obviously, the entire world now knows that Donald Trump is willing to ban "Muslim travel" into the United States.  At least until, "we get the problem figured out."

Since Jeb (by nature) is a weak politician.  I am going to tell him EXACTLY what he needs to say.  This is assuming Trump does not clarify his statement or "walk it back."

"To any registered Republican primary voter --- if you are seriously considering casting a ballot for Donald Trump, please do NOT even consider voting for me.  I do NOT want your vote.  I'd rather lose the presidency than know my winning votes came from people who share Donald Trump's vision and ideology.  It's just not who I am or what I'm about.  It's not what my country's about."

This is Jeb's big opportunity to get back in the race.  He'll likely condemn Trump's comments but HE NEEDS TO GO THE EXTRA MILE.  Will he take it to the limit?  No way.  Too cautious and predictable.  Doesn't have the guts. 

Jeb could take it one step further and tell people that he'd rather Hillary be president... as opposed to Trump.  This part would really be walking a fine line, but it would definitely make Jeb the de facto anti-Trump candidate.  Jeb needs to define himself from an OFFENSIVE posture rather than a defensive position.  Why am I the only person who gets this stuff?  These morons spend millions on consultants and polling... and still don't git it.

Funny how Jeb will spend more money than all the other Republican candidates combined.  But doesn't have the intuitive sense of when to strike or fight back.  Just doesn't get it. 

King Diamond Returns to Stage AE, 11-23-15

For someone who has led an incredibly sheltered life, I've had the unusual distinction of seeing King Diamond live in concert six times.  That's right.  Six!  As in 666 mutha fucka.

Back in 1989-90, on the cusp of high school/college days, I saw him three times.  Once at the South Hills Theater in Pittsburgh and then twice at Bogart's in Cincinnati.  During the final show, I witnessed this guy die right in front of me.  He got "karate kicked" in the chest.  And it wasn't by this arrogant prick ---

Seriously, who the hell does this guy think he is?  Was his honor so thoroughly decimated that it was necessary to slice the throat of innocent geisha-girl Kumiko (as if he was a barbaric ISIS terrorist from Ramadi)?  Please don't ask me how I knew the correct spelling of her name.

Fortunately, Danielson was able to get the best of him with a well-timed, dexterously administered honkkkk!

Hey, he learned it from the master.

I could've given you the 4 second Mayagi honk-clip.  I mean, I found the abbreviated version.  And to be honest, it's usually preferable from a blogging perspective.  But there's so much to be learned from observing his "passive defense, avoidance technique."  And then just when you think Mr. Mayagi is going to kill this heartless bastard, he pulls off that enduring/endearing honky schnozer.  Shazam!

If you wish to read about the harrowing death at Bogart's, it's in my odd-oh biography.

Now if Mr. Mayagi is the king of karate, then I shalt proclaim King Diamond as the king of satanic heavy metal.  I believe that's a fair analogy.  Ozzy, Ronnie James, that Ghoul with no name... they all pale in comparison.  None of them are fit to hold King Diamond's jock (strap).

Hey, King is getting up there.  I checked.  He's 59.  But if you ask me, he doesn't look a day over 45 (my age).

So here's what you may or may not find interesting.  I basically took a 25-year break from indulging in K.D.  Really didn't have much of a say in the matter.  He pretty much stopped touring in the United States.  Then, out of nowhere, he comes to Pittsburgh 3 times in the span of a year.  Two shows at Stage AE and he also played runner-up to Slayer at one of those all-day metal mayhem festivals.  Now that's a helluva lotta King Diamond.  It's the televised entertainment equivalent of being repeatedly drugged and raped by Bill Cosby.

So I skipped the opener and went to Bettis Grille (mainly to piss but then thought I'd kill some time).  Had a 10 buck Dewars and a 10 buck chicken quesadilla appetizer.  Both were stellar.

I won't delve into an exhaustive review of the concert or the pregame.  For those who care... yes, I did sneak a plastic water bottle of red wine into the venue.  It's just too easy.  I gotta be honest --- when I don't sneak it in, I kinda feel like a failure.  Even if I was teetotaler (always hated that word), I'd still do it.  I will now share my top-secret methodology.  Before heading in, surreptitiously place the bottle beside the metal fence on the perimeter of the outdoor smoking area.  Enter the venue.  Go immediately to the outdoor patio and embrace the legions of tobacco exhaling filth.  Retrieve bottle.  If confronted by the dutiful Stage AE staff, just pretend you have a physical disability.

As I was saying, there will be no laborious concert review.  It's King Diamond.  You either get his operatic, growling brand of "Scandinavian satanism" or you don't.   There ain't much of a middle ground.

However, some brief observations:

1.  Much smaller crowd than last year.  I'd say about 1,200 instead of the somewhere in the range of 2,200.

2.  I enjoyed this show significantly more than last time.  Of course, he performed the Abigail LP in its entirety, so we got to hear some hidden gems (particularly The 7th Day of July 1777 and Abigail).

3. Gained a new appreciation for lead guitarist Andy LaRocque.

 Is it just me or does this guy bear a striking resemblance to Dwight Schrute?

 4. Ran into the venerable Ted Cromwell and his buddy.  Demonstrated my famed "garbage can, VIP-cordoning-off technique."  But it wasn't really necessary due to the sparse crowd.  Now this is one I refuse to share with the general public.  Regardless, it's pretty much self-explanatory.


So if you can get past the bizarre concert narratives (harassment of an elderly grandma, disposal of an aborted fetus, various accessories being skull-fucked and so on), King Diamond is easily one of the more musically viable acts on the metal continuum.   Back in the late 80's, you really couldn't compare him to anything.  But in a strange way, the quality of the music reminds me of Ratt, Dokken, etc.  Some of the superior bands that played second fiddle to Aunt Jovi, Motley Crud, etc.  Different and distinct genres... but the songs remain the same.       

Anyway, the highlight of the night came for me at the conclusion of the show.  I asked the sound guy if I could have a copy of the set list.  And lo and behold... he bestowed upon me this sacred text.  

Now here's a thought.  Put all future set lists into some kind of Dead Sea Scroll format... on parchment paper or lamb scrotum or whatever.  Now THAT would make for a concert memento.  Bonus point if it has a stain of blood, maybe part of a pre-concert ritualistic slaughter. 

Out of all the setlists I've snagged, this one ranks pretty close to the top.  Seriously, you can't do much better than... wheelchair in / wheelchair out, goat up / goat down, coffin in / coffin out. 

Fuckin' "GOAT UP, GOAT DOWN."  Now that's what I'm talkin' about!

Republican debate(s)

Thoughts from this evening's Fox Business Channel debate.  I'll do each one.

Bobby Jindal: focused but desperate, grasping for straws against the lesser candidates.  "Vishnu slim-jim" appearance doesn't make for a strong bullying quotient.

Chris Christie: WTF was he talking about... how he was "going to prosecute" Hillary?  FOX is saying he won the early debate.  Christie was a hefty dose of blathering rhetoric. 

Mike Huckabee:  Great "yellin" quip from the wannabe pastor-in-chief.  Easily his best moment.

Marco Rubio:  This cat's memorization skills remind me of a zombified Palin on steroids.  I'm starting to think he might scare me the most.  That's saying something.  The most relevant, credible threat to the executive branch of the United States.

John Kasich: Stood out.  The wildcard winner of the debate.  Going after Trump on immigration was his defining moment.  Barring something bizarre, Kasich might just be the litmus test for a rational Republican presidential choice.  Although I'm pretty sure he's jockeying for the VP slot. 

Ben Carson:  disoriented, stunted by the bright lights.  Seemed hesitant and awkward.  I doubt it would impact his position in Iowa.  Probably didn't help elsewhere.

Trump: Obnoxious.  Triumphant.  Fared well enough.  Likely stayed on top.  If Trump wanted to destroy Rubio he should make an off-handed comment, "Markie, they way you memorize these lines is really freaking me out."

Jeb:  Not good.  Seems tall-oafish-dwarfish.  There's good and there's not good.  Jeb is not good.

Lindsey Graham: honorable mention.  Would have expressed vitriolic hatred toward ISIS remnants in the mountainous regions of Kurdistan.  Instead... nothing.

Pataki:  honorable mention? I do not honor him.  I do not trust him.  Ironic, because he's the only social liberal... er ehh, mainstream Republican candidate.

Ted Cruz:  Can't stand this guy.  But his debate was strong.  Presence, demeanor, resilience.... check.  A little tiresome for my taste.  Odd... because I'm a bit passionate and long-winded as well.

Carly Fiorina: likely continued her decline.  Reminded me of a female Rubio, but less mesmerizing.

Rand Paul:  Really starting to marginalize and erode his father's brand.  Not his fault.  He's just not good enough.  No room left in the GOP for fiscal isolationism.

religious money

Ever see one of these fugazi hundred dollar bills?  You notice it lying on the ground and think, "Holy shit!  Dinner and drinks are on me tonight, bizatch!"

Then, you pick it up, take a close look and are utterly deflated beyond comprehension.

Last week at the Steelers game, there was a corpulent bearded individual (not male) distributing them outside the Hyatt.  She had a stack roughly the size of a mini-promotional box of Cheez-Its.  I glared at her with contempt as I eagerly accepted the "bill."  After all, twas a gift from God.  Or in this case... a gift from hag.

It reminded me of a journey Mark and I took to Mardi Gras back in 1995.  We drove it straight through (Wheeling to N'Awlins).  Took about 18 hours or so.  Nothing like an eight hour haul through Mississippi and Alabama.  If anything, it makes you really appreciate the magical journey of Gump.

For those who've never attended any action in the Big Easy, the amount of crap lying on the ground is unquantifiable.  Beads, trinkets, candy, made-in-China gizmos, etc.  Pamphlets, brochures, confetti, coupons, and of course, religious money.  It's largely a result of the never-ending stream of parades and their accompanying "throws."  Everyone on the floats tosses knickknacks to the legions of trained minions.  And they swarm and literally gobble up the shit like gnats on a rotting turkey carcass.

It's the truth!  I saw a hulking granny lunge out of her wheelchair.  Comparable to stealing second base, she sprung head-first toward a sewer grate in a desperate attempt to gather up some Dollar Store plastic gadget.  Risking life and limb, this elderly woman had no qualms about throwing elbows.  Retrieval of the worthless refuse was her #1 priority.

At the parade, I had an involved conversation with this college kid from Tulane.  We talked at length about the abundance of "religious money" all over the place.  Our discussion centered around a lone topic --- Why was Mardi Gras such an inviting target for spiritual propaganda?

Here was his line of reasoning.  Many people go to Mardi Gras with the intention of escaping their problems.  It's like a socially acceptable hangout where depravity is commonplace... similar to heroin junkies in a crack house or crusted whores in a rural brothel.  These people are, by definition, victims of their own destiny.

For instance, take a 19 yr. old man named Joe.  Joe and his frat buddies caught a cheap flight from Newark.  While his gang napped at the hotel, Joe was intent on getting a head-start.  So he caught a cab and hit up the casino in nearby Biloxi.  Joe might have been accustomed to winning the annual poker tournament at the Phi Beta Alpha house, but he didn't fare so well against the blackjack dealer at the Golden Nugget.  Broke and despondent, he hitchhikes back to the hotel.  His buddies take pity and treat him to the $14.99 all-you-can-eat crab leg buffet.

Rejuvenated, Joe maxes out his credit card limit and treats his buddies to a live sex show featuring Anal Lana (the human sexual palindrome), multiple gerbils and a stunning finale with an imported Ugandan warthog.  The conclusion is best left to your imagination.  They make a hasty retreat toward the exit and take it to the streets.  Just as he's regaining a smidgeon of composure, someone lowers a beer bong from a second floor balcony.  The crowd screeches, "Chug! Chug! Chug!"  Joe fails to notice that instead of cheap beer, someone's pouring in a bottle of 151.  So, in the span of 7 seconds, his blood alcohol level transitions for .19 to .43.

Shortly before midnight, Joe finds himself separated from his crew, lying face down in a garbage strewn alleyway just off Bourbon Street.  Covered in his own shellfish-infused vomit and having been the unwelcome recipient of a golden shower, things aren't looking good.  Four hours pass and Joe slowly regains consciousness.  He staggers to his feet and wonders, "How on earth did I end up like this?    

Penniless and desperately in need of a bath and cold ginger ale,  Joe spots a $100 bill on the ground.  His heart starts racing and pulse starts palpitating.  Thank God!  Praise the Lord!  His dreams have temporarily been answered.  There is indeed a higher power!

But the money isn't real.  It's counterfeit.  For the love of Christ, it's a ticket to heaven.  Holy currency Batman!

At this point, Joe is in a dire predicament bordering on suicide.  He's completely lost (mentally, physically and emotionally).  He's weeping uncontrollably and snot is running down his nose (kudos to Blue Oyster Cult for sharing that vivid imagery).  Needless to say, Joe has hit rock bottom.

Now there's one thing everyone knows.  When you've reached the lowest of the low, there can be only ONE definitive answer.  Fortunately, it's the easiest solution of them all.  One that requires zero effort.  Zero intellect.  Zero perseverance.  Zero wisdom.  Zero analysis.  It's called the God solution.  The ultimate way to rebound from anything bad.  Blame all your problems on the devil.  Exit the darkness and walk in the shadow of light.  Is it any wonder this shit sells?

So here's my take.  Let's make it easier for the masses to fall in line.  Let's take that deception to the next level.  How you ask?  Well... Papa Saffy is here to help.

Remember the "religious money?"  Well, let's take that currency and make it a little more convincing!  Whaddya say?

Let's use those origami skills and tweak the appearance of that Jesus cash.  BEHOLD!  Err uhh, behold the fold.

Ouch!  That legal tender just became way more credible.

Now the final piece of the puzzle.  As any good realtor will concede... everything hinges on location.  Location, location, location.  So where should we stash this cash?  Well, I have an answer which is heavily grounded in the mindset of a blog I wrote this summer.  CONDOM DOG, BABY!

Question:  What are we gonna do with all these dressed up prophylactic wieners?
Answer:  Place them in random, heaping piles of vomit.  

It's the same premise for "religious money."  But instead of the aforementioned barf-a-rooni destination, let's try urinals and toilets.  Let's make it a real awakening.  A challenging adventure.  Hey, I just think if you're gonna invoke the god solution, you gotta pay a price.  There should be some cost, right?  After all, nothing else on the planet earth is free.  So why does everyone get a pass when it comes to religious awakenings?  Even the fabled Chrisagii know one thing for sure.  God doesn't pay for your ticket to ride.   

You wanna know something.  I should rescind that last observation.  There is ONE thing that's completely free --- heightened situational awareness and common sense, public safety information for large crowds (especially NFL stadiums).

LEGITIMATE EMERGENCY EVACUATION ORDERS WOULD NEVER BE DELIVERED VIA YOUR PERSONAL CELL PHONE.

Oops.  I almost forgot.  That information comes at a cost.  Not money, you moronic bozo.  The price is life and limb.  Pain and suffering.  Broken bones and shattered kneecaps.   Learn the truth about what the federal government and private industry are unwilling to divulge.  C'mon, help an atheist jew brother out.  Preferably before I suffer the same fate as our buddy Joe.

agsaf.org

Democratic presidential primary debate (10-13-15)

I wrote about the Republican debate.  So I might as well offer some thoughts on the Democrats.  I'll keep it simple and just proffer a blathering of adjectives.

Lincoln Chafee --- sheepish, disjointed, unpolished, Aspergers, frantic, awkward, aloof, erratic, out-of-place

Jim Webb --- honorable, whiny, distant, confusingly hurried, coneheaded, stilted, numb-skulled, boorish

Bernie Sanders --- frank, forceful, gesticulative, mild chutzpah, naturally aggravated, reasonable, practical, honest

Martin O'Malley --- principled, small, irrelevant, scripted, cautiously predictable

Hillary Clinton --- focused, steady, strong, tempered, consistent, measured spontaneity


I also came up with a title for my new book.  It's about tickets.