Fleetwood Mac review, April 27, 2013, Consol Energy Center

Coming off the heels of that nauseating, abysmal Steel Panther test of punishment and endurance, Gigi and I hit up the big Fleetwood Mac show.

It took awhile, but we managed to score 2 freebies.  Arduous but manageable.  One came from a New Jersey woman named Nellie Stillwaggon.  The other from a man in light blue button down shirt.

Earlier, I tried to reason with this group of ladies who had an extra.  Their friend was in the Cleveland clinic and could not attend.  Apparently they thought the spare ticket would be better served, if nicely framed and presented as a gift.  I attempted to persuade them that the woman might be more appreciative if the ticket were actually used but they refused to budge, preferring to eat it.  I tried to reason with them... after all, you could always just xerox one off afterwards.  But noooo, she would require definitive section, row and seat verification for her non-experience.  That sure was an inspired group of ladies - I wish I could have friends like that if I was in the hospital. 

They weren't the only ones.  Others opted to dine on print-outs as well.  Yummo, goodo.  Ticketmaster.  Mmmm.  I had this one guy who "threatened" to tear up his extra on the spot, just to spite me.  I sometimes wonder about humanity.  Make that always.  Why would anyone go out of their way to risk their own lives to improve a society comprised of about 25% assholes?  I truly sympathize with those returning from war zones or anyone who fruitlessly toils in the unappreciative public sector.  Time to get off the soapbox.

So we zipped in right at crunch time and scored KILLER seats in the FRONT row, Stevie Nicks side of the stage (our favorite region).

Excerpt from The Office:

Darryl:

It's cool that you like the southwest. It's one of my favorite regions. [cut to talking head] "It's one of my favorite regions" --did I just sound totally lame? [thinks] ...huh, it sounded good. [cut back to talking with Deangelo] I love the desert. It's one of my favorite ecosystems.

The band seemed really energized.  All 4 - Lindsay Buckingham, Mick Fleetwood, Stevie Nicks and the bass player whose name eludes me.  Stevie Nicks seemed genuinely inspired, invoking "fond memories" of Pittsburgh without divulging any specifics.  But you could tell that she wasn't bullshitting.  She likely won't be using the same line tomorrow night in St. Paul, MN.

I thought this show was much better than the Fleetwood Mac 2009 tour opener at Mellon Arena.  The band seemed looser and more relaxed.  There were a couple scattered moments of errant musicianship, a couple jams that went askew, a few drum beats that were a little off.  But I think it made for a more heartfelt, authentic performance.

The woman seated behind us was kind of a pain.  She would occasionally murmur at people to "sit down."  I thought about engaging her, explaining the ins and outs of what happens at a rock concert, but had a modicum of mercy.  Plus, I didn't want to jeopardize our "freebie karma."

Gigi and I have been discussing how we've slowly been evolving into this Beavis and Butthead-like duo outside the concerts.  All these strange, errant comments.  Eccentric laughter and chompy snickering that only we can decipher, yet overheard by everyone.  So of course, once we got inside, we opted for the Super Nachos.  Nothing exemplifies the Beavis and Butthead idiot parade better than a giant tray of nachos setting us back $7.50.

SETLIST:

• 1. Second Hand News
  2. The Chain
  3. Dreams
  4. Sad Angel
  5. Rhiannon
  6. Not That Funny
  7. Tusk
  8. Sisters of the Moon
  9. Sara
  10. Big Love
  11. Landslide
  12. Never Going Back Again
  13. Without You
  14. Gypsy
  15. Eyes of the World
  16. Gold Dust Woman
  17. I'm So Afraid
  18. Stand Back
      (Stevie Nicks song)
  19. Go Your Own Way
  20. Encore:
  20. World Turning
  21. Don't Stop
  22. Encore 2:
  22. Silver Springs
  23. Say Goodbye

Highlights for me were The Chain, Sara and Gold Dust Woman.  Especially the version of Sara.

During "Tusk," the pelvic thrusts of Lindsay Buckingham seemed a bit excessive, bordering into the blasphemous and obscene...  his Elvis-like gyrations mirrored this bizarre video that's currently making its rounds through social media.  Thank you.  Thank you very much.

As disturbing as that was, I thought it was interesting.  Not amusing, but kind of intriguing as it was definitely rehearsed and likely occurs on what would appear to be a semi-regular basis.  There's even some degree of subdued choreography. 

We also scored some kind of discarded Stevie Nicks-like veil/shawl/tapestry.  Unlike the above video featuring our caped, groinal super-sexual hero, here's some rare-rear fully clothed, Talibanesque modeling...

This look is all the rage in Kandahar.  I defy you to name any city that sounds so wonderful and exotic, while at the same time being the embodiment of the worst location on the entire planet earth.   Seriously... give it a try.  You'll always come back to Kandahar, Afghanistan.

After the concert, we ran into a person who shall remain nameless, a Pittsburgh sanctioned, rogue maintainer of law and order -  he gave us some confiscated Fleetwood Mac tour shirts.  One of which we presented to the infamous Nellie Stillwaggon!  That's the woman who gave us her extra floor seat.  We ran into her after the show.

 

We also had another encounter with Doc Harris (Franco's son).  We talked for a little about the artificially generated stampede and the recent Associated Press twitter hoax that temporarily crashed the stock market.  He looked at me and smiled, "Hey man, I owe you an email."  Well... we shall see.

All in all, twas a great night that restored our faith in music after that atrocious Steel Panther sequestration. 

After a show like that, sometimes I think maybe there really is a god.  Well... at least a musical, treblicious god of some sort with tonal leanings.  Now there's a concept I can barely grasp.  Hell... it's a lot better than tsunami-God, ricin-God, Fukushima nuclear reactor-God, Holocaust-God, Boston Marathon-God, Sandy Hook Elementary School-God, and of course... the most vengeful God that will eventually someday be spoken of... artificially generated stampede-God.

Steel Panther - Stage AE, April 26, 2013

Gigi and I zipped down to Stage AE last night for a "show" by a "band" named Steel Panther.

We hooked up with two longtime buddies, metalmale and marnellmale.  Having secured a quad-allotment of freebies, we were all set.  On his way into the venue, our buddy had this weapon of mass destruction confiscated by venue security.

When asked why he felt the need to bring it inside, he replied, "I forgot it was in my pocket."
Do not fear though.  Gigi ended up securing the weapon.  It will soon be reunited with its proper owner. 

I'm not sure what's wrong with me.  I must be getting old.  Having been previously assured of the band's outright hilarity and stunning 80's musicianship, this event truly asked more questions than it answered.  It was atrocious.  I reached the rarely felt level of "absolute putrid disgust."  I will admit one thing though.  We were in the minority.  Everyone else in the venue seemed to be having the time of their lives.  Hooping and hollering, gesticulating and suck-it-ing...

Shades of brilliance, mirroring this...

"Saf, for cryin' out loud.  The whole damn thing's a parody.  It's supposed to be in poor taste.  Don't you get it?"  To that query I respond with the age-old, "Yeah... I get it.  I get it."  Who knows?  Maybe I really don't get it. 

The band itself was horrifically loud.  Much to their collective chagrin, I could feel the distortion coursing through the veins of genitalia.  It was a good 'ol fashion groin thumping.

The best part was the interactive banter.  The lead singer aka "self professed vaginal inspector" would drone on endlessly about fornication.  It mirrored a Rand Paul filibuster, but with costumes and profanity.  There was that one shining moment where I became a believer.  He surveyed the crowd and screamed, "This is a new song about fucking all night long.  It's called "I'm gonna fuck you all night long."

We ended up bolting about three songs in.

We did not have a good time last night.  In fact, the highlight was us breathing a sigh of relief as we exited the venue.  I think this band should alter their entire agenda.  Maybe rename themselves "The Steel City Panthers" and do something in the realm of softcore, loud volume, dirty talkin' pornography.  Perhaps in the male revue milieu or on the Chippendales circuit.   

I did snag a cool Marilyn Manson/Alice Cooper poster from above a restroom urinal.  Seemed well-suited for Gigi's garage of musical paraphernalia and rustic accoutrement.

In retrospect... there were three highlights.  Free parking, free tickets and the fact that we didn't get poured on during our trek back to the refurbished Honda Civic.  Other than that, I have absolutely no desire further discussing this shit. 

Hopefully, tonight will serve as a rebound.  We're heading to Fleetwood Mac at Consol.  We went last time they came to the defunct Mellon Arena.  Here's the review from 2009.

As I implied, things can only improve upon last evening's debacle.  Maybe a vehicular accident in which they pry us from the car with the jaws of life while we're both simultaneously chewing on tin foil and shaving our heads with a cheese grater.  Dare to dream...

George W. Bush Presidential Library

Today marks the grand unveiling of the "W" presidential library or as I'd prefer to call it "G-Dubs big 'ol bunch of books."

It will be located on the Southern Methodist campus (how appropriate) in Dallas.  In keeping with the philosophy that everything is bigger and better in Texas, this sounds 'bout write.  Rest assured, it will be the biggest and the best...  assuming you define superiority in terms of that which is pricey and humongous (250 million bucks, 25 acres, 200,000+ square feet).

I've been following the coverage.  The library's main theme will revolve around "decision making."  Not a bad focus considering the fact that 9/11 certainly changed the world.  There's a statue of his pet dog Barney, the bullhorn from ground zero in Manhattan, a mammoth steel beam from one of the World Trade Centers.  What's missing are all the key figures of the administration (Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz - basically the architects of the Iraq war).  And if you know me, you know that I think the invasion and occupation of Iraq was the worst fundamental policy decision in the history of the United States... most definitely in my lifetime and most certainly the 21st century.  I know... I know... the worst is Solendra.

During the Iraq War, Bush made a visit to our decaying town.  I felt inspired so I wrote this poem and stuck it on every god forsaken car window in all of downtown Wheeling.

It's interesting... reflecting back on these words.

I refuse to take any politician seriously (any Democrat or Republican who cast a vote in favor of the war), if they're unwilling to utter the words, "in retrospect, I think my vote was a mistake."  Why can't the media ask this most basic question to all the current players?  I'm not talking about John McCain or Lindsay Graham or the imbecile Palin.  I'm talking about John Kerry and Hillary Clinton, our current and former Secretary of States.  Call me naive, but wouldn't this be a good question by which to judge their decision making capabilities?  After all, these are the people who run the country.  Well, at least they think they're in charge.  More than me, I suppose.

Most people think I have this seething hatred of George W. Bush.  Not true at all.  In fact, he seems like a pleasant, likeable dude.  The kind of guy I'd like to have a beer with.

What I've always questioned is whether "the office of the presidency" was just too damn big for his britches.  I don't think he ever comprehended the magnitude of his words, the real-world impact of his policies.  I don't think he grasped an appreciation of history, a basic understanding of how the world works (beyond the lone star state).  I think he saw things through a very narrow perspective, an incredibly simplistic prism.  He didn't analyze, he delegated - a very dangerous "style of leadership" following 9/11.  But did I "hate" him as a person.  Absolutely not.

I think way too many people, especially in the age of facebook, assign notions of love and hate far too easily.  I despise this leader's drone policy or drug policy or immigration policy or stance on universal health care... therefore, I must HATE him/her.  That's the only way people will know where I stand on these critical issues.  It's far too difficult to have a rational debate.  I don't have the time or the necessary mental energy or acuity to engage in reasonable discourse.  It's much easier to copy and paste this picture of Mitt Romney emanating from a marble toilet w/ pure gold fixtures.  Caption reading "Mitt is... the Shit."  I haven't seen it, but I'm sure it exists.

I guess that's what I'm getting at.  I personally do not loathe George W. Bush.  I just detested his over-simplification of the major issues.  The "we must fight them there, so we don't fight them here."  The "they hate us because they hate our freedom."  And the absolute worst, "the people of Iraq will welcome us as liberators."  For me, that one was the tipping point.  I was always skeptical of the decision to invade Iraq, but when I heard that phrase, I absolutely lost it.  I may not know shit, but I've always known one thing... NOBODY LIKES IT WHEN SOMEONE BOMBS THEIR COUNTRY.

So my main beef with W is this...  the presidency was just beyond his grasp.  The office was simply too big for him.  When I look at Obama, Clinton, Bush Sr. and Reagan (maybe Carter to a lesser extent), I never come away with that impression.  They all seemed well suited to handle the awesome power of the presidency.  They all understood the scope and magnitude.  With W, I got the impression that he ran for the office mostly because he thought he could win it.  Turns out he was write.  Not once, but twice.

And if I remember correctly, he was supposed to be the "education president."  Turns out, he ended up being a "wartime president."  So while they're doing the dedication, I just thought I'd right down my thoughts.  Offer my two sense, if you will.  After all, it's a big fucking library.

thoughts on the Steelers 2013 schedule

So the NFL just released the 2013 Steelers regular season schedule.


2013 schedule (All times ET)

Sept. 8 TENNESSEE TITANS, 1 p.m.
Sept. 16 at Cincinnati Bengals, 8:40 p.m.
Sept. 22 CHICAGO BEARS, 8:30 p.m.
Sept. 29 at Minnesota Vikings (Wembley Stadium, London), 1 p.m.
Oct. 6 BYE
Oct. 13 at New York Jets, 1 p.m.
Oct. 20 BALTIMORE RAVENS, 4:25 p.m.
Oct. 27 at Oakland Raiders, 4:05 p.m.
Nov. 3 at New England Patriots, 4:25 p.m.
Nov. 10 BUFFALO BILLS, 1 p.m.
Nov. 17 DETROIT LIONS, 1 p.m.
Nov. 24 at Cleveland Browns, 1 p.m.
Nov. 28 at Baltimore Ravens, 8:30 p.m.
Dec. 8 MIAMI DOLPHINS, 1 p.m.
Dec. 15 CINCINNATI BENGALS, 8:30 p.m.
Dec. 22 at Green Bay Packers, 4:25 p.m.
Dec. 29 CLEVELAND BROWNS, 1 p.m.

My thoughts...

First and foremost, on opening day we have a home game against the Titans.  From a potential stampede perspective, this does not bode well.  There are a total of 10 1 o'clock games on that particular Sunday.  Usually, there are 9.  The final day of the season has the most (12), but that weekend often suffers form weak attendance.  Since I'm the only person on the planet who's concerned about artificially generated stampedes, I won't harp on it.  I'll be there regardless.

Gigi and I will be out "cruising the Northwest" for the big nationally televised night game against Da Bears.  That one jumped out at me as a must-see, but I'll cope... somehow.

Our bye comes a little early in the season.  But that's always the case when you get a London game at the end of September.   They usually do inter-conference AFC/NFC match-ups across the pond.  Wise decision.  I don't mind playing the Vikes.  I'd rather see the Green Bay game played in Wisconsin and the domed Lions have to venture to Heinz Field for a relatively cold weather game.

At least we didn't get screwed on the London trip.  By that, I mean we still have 8 home games.  So you really can't bitch too much.  By the time we finally get back to Europe, there's a good possibility the United States may have fallen as a "great civilization/empire."  We'll likely have bigger problems to contend with.

Random stuff...

Cool that we open the preseason with a home game against the NY Giants.  Only I would find something like this to be of substantive interest. 

I like the fact that Miami has to come the Burgh for a late season cold weather game. 

They just announced that the Bengals signed James Harrison.  Fucking Fantastic.  What better a way to celebrate than our only prime time Monday Night game in the second week slot.  My prediction - he'll make one big hit or sack early on and then be rendered meaningless.  It's absolutely hysterical that the Bungles signed him to a 2 year deal.  How fitting.  I rarely complain about the players we sign or drop.  However, I can't believe we matched the offer on WR Emmanuel Sanders.  I do question that move.  Maybe Belichick was purposely bating us.  I suspect he'll under-perform this year.  Just a hunch.

Gotta love the Thanksgiving night showdown against the Ravens on the road.  Although who can forget the 1998 coin toss in Detroit.  Though I'm hardly what you call superstitious.  Should be a good knock down, drag out.  It always is.  Roger Goodell got this one right.  Congrats.

The balance of our schedule seems strong.  8 - 1 o'clocks. 4 - 4 o'clocks and 4 night games.  Not bad for an East coast team that went 8-8 and missed the playoffs last year.  Just ask the Browns who have 13 games at 1 pm and a sole crappy night game against Buffalo.  Sounds about right.   Can you tell who the NFL likes from a ratings perspective?

Looks like we'll find out "what's what" during the 4 game stretch following the bye week.  3 high profile away games (Jets, Raiders and Patriots) with a Ravens home game sandwiched in there.  There is a West Coast trip to Oakland, but it's almost an entire month after the London journey.  Shouldn't be a factor.  If we can go 2-2 in those 4 games, we should be good as we segue into back-to-back home games against perennial teams of squalor... Buffalo and Detroit.

We usually close the season on the road in Cleveland.  This year we get the Browns at home.  This game is almost always irrelevant.  I suspect 2013 will be no different.  And Cleveland's new owner, Jimmy Haslam, is under federal indictment.  It's related to his "Flying J" truck stops.  Maybe the FBI doesn't care for the public marijuana legalization insinuation/endorsement.  They probably think it sullies the stellar reputation of the league.  Just what the Browns needed.  If they weren't such a downtrodden, defeated laughingstock, it wouldn't be as nearly amusing.  Talk about kicking a team when they're down.  Over the years, it's grown increasingly difficult... maintaining that level of seething acrimony toward the Browns.  In today's world, you almost want to stick up for the team that gets bullied all the time.  Almost.  I think they've officially replaced the AZ Cardinals as the "victims of NFL bullying."  The Browns are offensive... because they have no offense.  Quite the conundrum. 

Our "power" or strength of schedule ranking came in at #22.  This sounds about right.  It looks relatively soft.  Our "oddball" AFC match-ups are Tennessee and Oakland.  I can live with that.  Though personally, I will miss Jeff Fisher's mustache.  Whenever the score is 28-7 and they show him wandering the sideline.  Then, they zoom in for a closeup of his face on the jumbo-tron, I get these bizarre, titillating, homoerotic goose bumps.     

All in all, if you openly bitch and complain about this schedule (from virtually any perspective), I'd have to say you're not too savvy.  I think this could be Roethlisberger's last chance for glory.  He's just been too banged up over the years.  His ability to shake off tackles and make those last second heroic plays...  well, last year was pretty telling.  And I'm not sure Bruce Gradkowski is the answer either.

It's always too early, but I think we're playoff bound.  Here's how I think the AFC North shapes up.

Baltimore 12-4  (the 2012 Ravens were hardly a fluke)
Pittsburgh 10-6
Cincinnati 8-8
Cleveland 3-13

Boston marathon prediction

Although it's too early to make imbecilic predictions of "who, how many people, or what organization" is responsible for the multiple bombings at the Boston marathon... since it's all we're going to be hearing about for the foreseeable future, I might as well weigh in.

First.  I was fascinated by the social media response.  I don't do twitter, but I did monitor facebook.  It amazed me how many people instantly wrote stuff like "prayers to Boston" and "who would do such a thing?"  Many seemed to have this natural inclination to further "break" the story.  In this day of social media, everyone wants to "be" the news.  I'm guessing about half of them do it instinctively, without a second thought.  The other half seek to empathically aggrandize their stake in this world - hoping that others will know they're actively concerned about world events and humanity.

Second.  The big question - is this a foreign or domestic terrorist attack.  I noticed that Obama, in his initial address to the nation, made sure not to use the terrorist label.  Smart.  Here's why.  Although the media hasn't proposed the possibility, I think there's a strong chance that the bomber is a disgruntled American, probably an Iraq or Afghanistan war veteran.  My hunches tell me it's someone who has served multiple tours and was likely a bomb technician or actively investigates situations in the aftermath of improvised explosive devices.  Someone with real world knowledge and experience.   There are some eerie parallels with what happened in Boston yesterday and what happens everyday in our war zones.

It's amazes me how everyone is grief stricken by the death of this 8 year old boy.  And we're all worried about that single elderly runner who fell due to the concussive blast.  NEWS FLASH - this stuff has been happening almost daily for the last 10 years.  Maybe the mainstream media should start showing REAL news from the war zone, like I don't know... images from Al Jazeera and the fringe alternative media.

If this act was perpetuated by a "mentally disturbed" (and I use that term very loosely, because I think about half of Congress is delusional) war veteran, Obama using the word "terrorist" could very well come back to bite him in the ass.  After the "we stand united/we're all Americans love fest" subsides (AND IT WILL), the elements of the opposition party would crucify him for having sold out our abandoned veterans.

For years, we've heard about the extreme backlog of cases in the Veterans Administration.  The paperwork, the stalling techniques, the intrinsic methodology that all government agencies use to bureaucratize claims and benefits... I'm talking about the human toll that could drive a person to the brink of insanity.  And that's after having served multiple tours, having your entire life disrupted, your spouse leaves you, your compensation is a joke, your house is in foreclosure, your pet died, your kids spit on you, your car broke down... and all you see is that the ONLY thing Americans care about is...

this idiot >>>

this dipshit's haircut >>>

or Glitzy (Honey Boo-Boo's pet pig) >>>

These three alone could very well drive a SANE person to commit an act of terrorism.  And people have the audacity to ask, "who could perpetrate such an act?"

Pirates vs. Reds... epic fail

This Sunday was a beautiful, crisp afternoon.  Since I was heading up to Gigi-burgh, I thought I'd take in my first Buccos game of 2013.  She was working til around 3:30pm or so.  I figured I'd snag a freebie and hang til the 6th or 7th inning.

It's a Pirates game where tix are ubiquitous.  So I didn't even bother with a sign or anything like that.  And I generally try not to speak that much.  I just roamed the area holding my finger up - the universal sign for "I needs a ticket."  Eventually, I sat on the Honus Wagner statue platform... index finger raised, smiling and silently mouthing the words "need one."

That's obviously not me... but strictly for reference purposes, my head is pretty much where this woman's ass is located.  My finger would be adjacent to her cervix or gynecologically pressing the vulva.

Anyway, it's heading into the 2nd inning and I haven't had any bites.  No luck whatsoever.  So I stroll over to the deep outfield entrance by the Roberto DiClemente bridge.  There's a guy standing there with a small stack of bleacher tickets, maybe about 6 or 7.  I'd say he was about 30 years old, very tan with slicked back hair and the over-sized, expensive sunglasses.  Very GQish. 

I asked him, "Hey man, you got an extra to spare.  I was just looking to get into the game for a little bit."  He looked irritated.  Yeah, okay.  Gimme 5 bucks.  To which I respond, "Well, I was hoping for a freebie.  I won't be sitting next to you.  I just have some time to kill."

Then he looks at me with this absolute look of putrid disgust, "Why the hell would I give YOU a free ticket?"  I politely reply, "Well, maybe you could think of it as a gesture of goodwill."  He sharply retorted, "I'd rather fucking eat it (referencing the ticket, of course).  Then I respond, "Well, that's one option."  

Then, he scowled at me and purposely decided to enter the gate... as if to say, look asshole, I'm going to walk in with this stack just to spite you.  I just shrug my shoulders and walk away.

As I'm heading toward the 3rd base outfield entrance, I see some Reds fans talking with this scalper dude I know.  I ask the guy how much he wants and he replies, "5 bucks."  Another bleacher seat.  I explain that it's against my personal code of conduct to indirectly augment the fortune of Pirates owner Bob Nutting.  His buddy laughs while I strike up a meaningless conversation about Ohio State President Gordon Gee (he was wearing an OSU football shirt).

So it's between me and the scalper.  The scalper is offering him a grand total of $2.00 and I'm offering zilch.  The Reds fan tries to get me to bite, but I just will not relent.  "C'mon man, I only want five bucks.  That's less than the cost of a beer."  I reply, "Yeah, I know... I'm just not in the habit of paying to see a Pirates game."  He turns his head and grabs the two single dollar bills from the scalper dude and shakes his hand.  At this moment, the guy must have thought he was T. Boone Pickens staging a hostile takeover of Occidental Petroleum.

Anyway, they head toward the gate.  I look at the scalper guy (I know him well, but forget his name).  He looks at me and says, "I'd offer to sell it to you for cost, you know, 2 bucks.  But I know you ain't gonna do it."  I lightheartedly reply, "And you would be correct, sir."

So I guess I'm just venting.  I don't think I've EVER been shut out of a Pirates game.  I saw about 50 games from the limo driving days and never paid a cent.  My complaint here centers around the "smug arrogance" and the "dorky ambivalence."

You're probably asking the million dollar question, "Saf, couldn't your Jew-ass, Hebrew buttocks match that scalper's $2.00 offer.  Isn't that about half the cost of McDonald's kids meal?"

Since all the news is about guns these days... let me put this in terms you Northern WV varmint hunters and Southwestern PA yinzers can understand...

I'll give you that 2 bucks, when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Eric Clapton, Consol Energy Center, Pittsburgh, 4-6-13

Yesterday, during a semi-arduous 6 mile run in which I accidentally wore two different running shoes, I took a brief break and ate lunch at Krogers.  Twas a sample tasting menu of culinary delights.  It commenced with a miniscule, rhombus-shaped quadrant of sponge cake from the Starbucks.  Then, it was off to the sushi stand.  I gobbled down 2 portions of the California roll and a steamed dumpling.  If you're wondering what the suggested sushi sample limit is... well, there's an unofficial limit of 8.  And if you take the entire container... well, in this establishment, that's frowned upon.

I don't know about you, but I've grown weary of the E*trade baby and his stocky brethren.

The dining expedition continued with a plastic dixie cup of field greens w/ roasted red peppers garnished with a spicy salamic slice, doused with a hint of Italian dressing.  Finally, it was off to the soup stand.  No soup Nazi in sight.  An elderly woman doled me out a mini-cup of some kind of Tuscan bean, pseudo-Progresso variant.

Dripping with sweat, I finished my Krogers dining binge and headed back on National Road.  I took a brief diversion down Washington Avenue and ran into the owner of Avenue Eats.  I STILL haven't dined there but will remedy that injustice by the end of this month.  I mentioned that I was going to see Eric Clapton and she inquired, "Oh... Wow... is Clapton on your bucket list?"

Needless to say, there are many things I wish to do before I die.  Milk a cow, feed the ducks, get a decent hole-in-one.  I got one on #17 at the Oglebay par 3 when I was a little kid, but I don't think that counts.  It was a line drive skidder that somehow ended up in the hole.  I'll never forget the name of the golf ball, a "GCI Faultless."  To this day, I've never seen or heard of that brand.  Saf, what's your favorite golf ball these days?  Gotta go with Slazenger but I'll play anything (with the exception of a Titliest or some Wilson/Spalding shit).

Anyway, as far as a bucket list goes, seeing the legendary dude who sings that sappy "darling, you were wonderful tonight" crap...  well, he's just doesn't do it for me.  (Kramer - "weather just doesn't do it for me").  Nonetheless, I would not be deterred.  So it was me, G Max and Slosh.  We made it to the gravel lot around 6:30 and hooked up with Gigi.  She had Snyder's chips and turkey-romaine wraps and mini turkey sandwiches on marble rye (not from Schnitzer's)

We also hooked up with the extended Wheeling crew (Tony Rocks, Capt. Lee and Perry (guy who tipped canoe in freezing crick).

I made a sign for the purpose of free ticket acquisition, but neither me nor Gig felt comfortable using it.

Tickets were a tough score.  I snagged a freebie from a sporty looking trio of guys in their 50's.  Gigi had a much tougher time.  She struck up a conversation with some neurotic weirdo-man from McCandless.  He had this poindexter nerd/slender Weeble-Wobble vibe going on.  He offered her the freebie but said he "needed her to go inside with him."  Of course, I nudged her off on the consolidated journey.  "I'll call you when I head in."  I went back down to the lower gate to hook up with the others and finish my wine.  And yes, if you're wondering... I'm officially 1 part boyfreind, 9 parts ass.  Not the proudest ratio.

So I saw a guy surreptitiously hide something underneath a garbage can.  I assumed it was narcotics, likely a stash of grass or something.  After he bolted, I went for the scavenge.  For the love of Ravenstahl, it was a weapon...

I ended up giving it to Slosh.

Anyway, Gigi comes walking out of nowhere.  Apparently, just as she was about to get scanned, the Consol guards swarmed her, the smarty-pants-Weeble-Wobble guy and this other freakshow... "tripping ballz pony-tail dude."  So she sidled off and wisely made the decision to retreat.

After exchanging some additional, meaningless pleasantries, we bolted inside.  We missed the entire opening act (The Wallflowers).  Clapton had just hit the stage.  We took our usual spot on the side.  Lower level, spacious seating instead of choosing to be crammed in with the condescending mongrel hoard.   The crowd just had this strange, pompous, Sewickley - Upper St. Clairish feel to it.  Kind of this reserved, sophisticated, "we know how to rock, but don't care to show it" vibe.

Clapton was decent.  Like I said, I'm not a huge fan but I did like "tempted by the fruit of another" Squeeze cover.  This version's from N'Awlins.

 
And the "Cocaine" closer was pretty cool.  All in all, Clapton and his fans just don't do it for me.

I'd have to say the highlights of the night for me were Gigi's turkey-lettuce wraps and her customary free parking at the Church of the Moops.

If anyone has ever seen my bedroom walls, you know that I save all my ticket stubs.  If you're bored to the point of tears (in heaven), there's some pictures in the 4th chapter of my odd, oh biography.  I've never admitted this... but one of the tickets is a FREAKIN' FUGAZI.  That's right.  It's from a show I never attended.  Pure blasphemy.  And it's a Clapton ticket from a 1998 show at the MGM Grand in Vegas.  My parents got some comp tickets at the main desk and checked it out.  They left a few songs in.  "Oh Rick, it was soooo loud.  It was basically intolerable."  Oddly enough, knowing my penchant for concert memorabilia... she mailed me the ticket stub.  So 15 years later in 2013, I finally got to see my Clapton-bucket list concert.  I suppose it all came full circle. 

Wheeling Dog Park Revisited

I left an unusual comment on the local newspaper website.  

I'm curious to see if they take it down.  There's no profanity but it's kind of on the twisted side.

You be the judge.  Will they...

A.  Leave everything unchanged

B.  Remove only my comment (currently speaking, nobody else has yet to chime in)

C.  Remove the entire comment section thus disabling any future comments

My hunch is they'll choose option C.

No Dogs Allowed Heather's Corner Desk April 2, 2013 - Heather Ziegler Read comments | Post a comment There is a new sign posted at the entrance to Mount Calvary Cemetery in Wheeling. It simply states "No Dogs." It's a green sign placed next to the cemetery sign. You might miss it if you drive too fast past it, but people walking their dogs ought to be able to see it right away. The sign resulted after a woman, whose family is buried there, complained about dog dirt on the road and on gravesites. She lamented that it's holy ground and people ought to respect that. After all there is a park right next to the cemetery, a walking trail nearby and plenty of public sidewalks on which to walk dogs. Chad Carter, chancellor for the diocese, agreed and had the sign placed in the cemetery. Workers are encouraged to DISCOURAGE those found walking their pets in the graveyard. I applaud that effort. The woman who made the complaint told me that even if dog owners pick up their animal's excrement, the dogs are still urinating in the cemetery. "You can't pick up urine!" she said. The cemetery has enough challenges with wildlife -- deer, rabbits, geese, etc. -- and they don't need to be cleaning up after pets. Across the road at Greenwood Cemetery, pets have not been allowed in the graveyard for at least 15 years. It took some time to convince pet owners who walked their dogs there, but officials said it has finally sunk in to most people. If there was ever an argument for establishing a dog park in Wheeling, this is it! Comments: sonofsaf I live adjacent to the Mt. Cavalry cemetery, so I feel my input is both relevant and justified. Some random thoughts. Firstly, I applaud the politically correct reference to canine excrement as dog "dirt." Excessive vulgarity regarding animal waste expulsion is wholly unnecessary in a civilized society. Kudos. Secondly, I concur with the aforementioned woman's observation. "You can't pick up urine!" Indeed... we hold this truth to be self evident. Perhaps the time has finally come for pet owners to establish a higher degree of accountability regarding future animalistic urinary endeavors aka "pee parties." I would suggest something in the way of attachable plastic "weenie bags" or in the case of b*tches... vag bags. Finally, this post fails to address any problems associated with pet vomit. Dog vomit, or as I like to call it, woof-barf, is a growing epidemic. Mandatory "puker scoopers," enforced by the Ohio County Health Department could constitute a viable solution. The cause is just and it could become a significant, bone-us source of revenue for the city of Wheeling.

Wheeling Park Easter egg hunt

For the past few years, the local Vineyard church has sponsored a rousing Easter egg hunt over at Wheeling Park.  It's a site to behold.  Children of different age brackets storm the hillside in search of valuable plastic Walmart eggs.  Total attendance is somewhere in the neighborhood of a 750 kids and 1,000 adults.

A good friend of mine (and avid Flyers fan) has a revulsion toward eggs.  He claims, "Eggs come from the ass of a chicken and have the consistency of snot.  Why would you want to eat that?"  To which I respond, "Grow the fuck up!  They're a decent source of cheap protein.  And the Flyers suck."  We've had this exact conversation about 5-6 times over the past 20 years.

Because I reside on the adjacent hill, whenever they have a live concert or utilize amplified sound, I hear it loud and clear.  The music literally cascades into my house.  Last Sunday I was greeted with an ear-screeching rendition of "Here Comes Peter Cottontail."  Followed by a droning blast of "Testing 1, 2, 3."  What a resourceful way to ring in the holiday season.

So I jogged over and ended up running into a few friends... some old, some new.  I extended everyone the obligatory "Happy Easter" and wished them well.  You're probably thinking... "Saf, I didn't know you liked Easter."  Well, not really.  But I do enjoy the yearly public service announcements that discourage parents from buying seasonal live rabbits and giving them to their kids as festive, temporary pets.  Then of course, come Monday, the animal is left to fend for itself on the mean streets of Triadelphia.  Now THAT is something I can rally around.

Anyway, back to the Easter egg hunt.  What took me aback was the heightened level of security.  For a dwindling, decaying town of elderly fuddie duddies, there's always this overwhelming police presence.  Seriously, in a town where the vast majority of the population looks like this...

... I flat out guarantee that Wheeling, West Virginia has the highest cop:citizen ratio in the United States.  It doesn't matter where you go.  Dance Dimensions, Wheeling Nailers hockey game, The Alpha, any steak fry or charity event, Wheeling Chili Cook-off, Italian Festival... there's always this enormous police presence admittedly preparing for violent demonstrations and civil unrest.

And the police chief has this bizarre inclination to stick his men (and one token female officer) anywhere he can.  Here's a few examples...

Hardees on National Road has always been the staple location, the defining "cop hangout."  At one time, this was the busiest Hardees in the entire United States.  In the mid 90's, Wheeling's own Amy Piko entered some kind of restaurant naming contest.  I think she won first prize and was awarded a check for $1,000.  No joke.  She submitted the name "Classic Cruisin' Hardees" and the crappy fast food corporate behemoth snatched it up.  That 2 burgers, 2 fries, 2 bucks deal had to be the absolutely most disgusting cuisine bargain of the 20th century.  The chicken McNugget pink slime fiasco pales in comparison.

Local cops gravitate toward Hardees much like Cambridge/Zanesville senior citizens venture to the Wheeling Island Casino.  It's this strange compulsion/phenomenon that exists only in Ohio County, WV.  It's almost like a rite of passage.  Just like the Hindus who travel great distances to bathe in the Ganges.  Just like Muslims performing the Hajj.  Our patrolling guardians take the I-70 Oglebay Park exit to secure the blessed bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.

They also stick a cop at the Ohio County Library.  This guy's visually approaching retirement.  He's the "Ssshuuushhhh" policeman.  Rest assured, he'll back up that "shooshie shoosh" with a hostile frown and a brief tap on his sidearm or taser.  He's also in charge of whisking out the homeless and making sure teens don't access porn on the internet.  His presence... formidable.  His girth... equally substantial.   

There once was a day when you could freely walk into the city county building to settle that $2.00 parking ticket.  No more!  You must submit to a TSA style, full body scan and temporarily relinquish all keys, sunglasses, belt buckles, perfume, lip gloss... basically, anything a Macgyver imposter could transform into a makeshift Molotov cocktail. 

Shortly after 9/11, in a patriotic attempt to visibly enhance the police state and set everyone's mind at ease, the city of Wheeling acquired this monstrosity.

It's the infamous Department of Homeland Security Unified Command Center.  I don't know about you, but this thing really helps put my mind at ease.  I don't know how I was ever able to sleep at night.  It's reminiscent of that roving urban assault vehicle from the movie Stripes (1981).

I'm not sure of the price tag, but I imagine it easily exceeds a million bucks.  It's not money particularly well spent as it sits at the corner of 16th & Jacob St. in an abandoned gas station lot.  It moves from that spot about 2-3 times a year.  They trot it out as some kind of "defiant showpiece" when "needed."  You know, for something like the annual Ogden 20K distance race.  Just in case every runner decides to engage in a simultaneous human stampede and break into Wesbanco Arena a la the Cincinnati Riverfront Coliseum Who concert circa 1979.    

Anyhoo, back to the Easter holiday festivities.  I thought it would be an interesting display if they brought out the "Mobile Terrorism Command Center" for the children's annual Wheeling Park Easter Egg hunt.  It could oversee the event and make sure things go according to plan.  Insuring the safety of our town's most valuable asset - our children.  Kind of like art mimicking reality... or vice-a-versa.  Think of it as an Easter offshoot.  A "resurrection" of indoctrination and societal compliance.  A real-world visual representation of the United States as it further declines into a police state.  You think I'm kidding.  I am not.  I think it would be well received by the masses. You could even hide some eggs in it.  Children could have their fingerprints taken too.  It would be a hoot.

Enough with the negativity.  Just for Easter... let's close this out with some good 'ol fashioned Eastern Ohio Chrisagii.  I couldn't find any Easter music, but I did find this Easter bunny-laden interview and related commentary.  Well... it's the best I could dig up.  It has this unusual "chinchilla" vibe.

It would appear that even the Chrisagii are not immune to local overzealous law enforcement.  Rumor has it there's some new city ordinance dealing with something referred to as "Bee Gee garb."

And now, since I've got you in the mood.  (Just like Emeril Lagasse used to say) "Let's Kick it up a Notch.  BAM!"  Here's some additional rabbit related music with bonus reindeer overtones.

billboarded in the butthole

I just saw this on facebook.

It made me think.  This story of betrayal needs to play itself out, preferably over a 4-6 week period.  I would suggest that "Michael" respond with a billboard message of his own.  Possible accusatory themes could include infidelity, parental abuse or neglect, alcohol and drug addiction, etc.  Hell, maybe the Jessica mistress could even chime in.  The back and forth would unfold like an outdoor, "limited info" Maury Povich lie detector test.  Can you even fathom the level of interest, twisted amusement/sick joy of local drivers? 

If I owned a billboard company, say Lamar for instance... and the local economy was in horrible condition.  I mean vastly worse than it is now.  To the point where billboard advertising suffered a severe, marked decline.  Well, instead of placing a bunch of those "You Ad Here" signs...

... I would shift my entire focus from business to regular people.  You've got to figure there are always some wealthy people (with expendable cash and reckless judgement) who are pissed off at their mates.  The more flamboyant the personalities, the better.  Billboard advertising could be an exceptional strategy for a lover's quarrel, particularly gay, transgendered, interracial and ones with a wide age differential. 

You always see those "Look who just turned 50!" or "So proud of our dumbshit kid that graduated from Wheeling Park High School !!!"  On second thought, perhaps the latter is a spectacular, celebratory achievement.  Some of us had to go to summer school.  But I digress.

My point is that the PRECEDENT is already there.

In the Elm Grove section of Wheeling, we had that infamous "car wash controversy."  This guy named Vincent Camastro wanted to construct a 4-bay car wash on this scalene triangle plot of Lumber Avenue.  The city denied his request.  Immediately following, someone (allegedly "connected" with the city) constructed a car wash facility on the adjacent property. 

Keep in mind, this whole brew-ha-ha erupted back in 1994.  For the love of Christ, it continues to the present day.  That's almost 2 fucking decades in the town where time stands still.   Let me put this in perspective.  Back then, there was no Arnold Palmer golf course.  The dentist office on Washington Avenue was selling tequila shots for 2 cents.  My friend, Bill Beaver was working "down by the Riverside."  Suffice to say, "time passing" in Wheeling is a notion met with absolute defiance.

Anyhoo, Camastro erected a sign in the triangulated crossfire zone.  I found a couple pics on the internet. 

The second one is a tad blurry - here's the content...

"Dear President Obama,

I need your help. The city of Wheeling is corrupt. We have corrupt city officials, corrupt courts, corrupt judges. I have been retaliated against for trying to expose this corruption. Over the years our newspaper and television stations have betrayed us by not reporting the corruption. We are told only what they want us to hear. There are two sets of laws. One for us and one for them and their friends.
Backroom deals. Judges ignore the rule of law. Our Constitution and Justice mean nothing to them. They are traitors to our country.

Mr President, you cannot beat city hall when judges protect a corrupt city. I was stopped from presenting evidence to a grand jury against corrupt city officials and ordered by a judge, who stormed in during the proceedings, to shut up or I would be arrested.

My civil rights have been violated. My rights today, yours tomorrow. Where is the FBI, where is the Department of Justice? Our Governor, Senators, and Congressmen have ignored my plea for help. They are the biggest hypocrites. They are part of the problem of corruption.

I am fighting corruption alone and I am losing. I need your help. I can't believe this is happening to me in America."
  
All in all, I like the message.  He states his case with passion and precision.  Though it's difficult to read the whole thing when driving by.  Over the years, it has been defaced, vandalized and I think someone once tore it down.  So he threw up a few more billboards with the identical message.  I've seen them in downtown Wheeling, Center Wheeling and Elm Grove.  Hey... let's give this guy credit for "stirring up the shit-storm" in a town that's not only scared shitless, but also, generally devoid of substantive shit.  If I was at one of those city council meetings, I would stand up and deliver a stinging filibuster...  Wheeling, shame on you.  Your stool is looser than your moral conduct.  You have no fecality!  I repeat... zero fecal fortitude!  (I'd ramble on longer than Rand Paul and/or Robert Plant).

As the car wash conspiracy approaches its 20th anniversary, it might finally be time to let the whole thing subside.  An elderly bo-toxed man once said, you gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run.

K-Rog knows what I'm talkin' about.

Personally, I prefer the renegade billboard approach.  Does anyone recall this local fiasco from the mid 90's?  Allegedly, a bitter female ex-lover spray painted "(name omitted) RAPED MY SON" 

I won't name names on this one.

And oh yeah... she wrote it on the wall of the vacant, old Krogers (in Wheeling, we add the "s") in Woodsdale late one Saturday night.  Sure enough, the entire population was collectively mortified as they walked to St. Mike's for church that Sunday morning.  And the guy's name was insanely recognizable.  Brilliantly evil.  As if the rape insinuations weren't bad enough.  How about we throw in an extra allegation of gay child molestation?  Catholic church hierarchy - eat your heart out!

Finally, my point to all of this... as the United States ultimately joins the list of "once mighty, great civilizations in the dust bowl of world history" you'll likely see more of these billboard scenarios play themselves out.  When people realize they cannot depend on the U.S. government, they'll likely seek help from local sources.  Family, friends, neighbors, churches, gangs, etc.  Anywhere they can find utility and "resilience."  The power vacuum will trend back to the states, cities and most important, local small town communities.

I've always thought this.  That when the U.S. collapses... the mayors, city councilpersons, sheriffs, and law enforcement in general, will begin to wield an awesome amount of power.  Think in terms of Bloomberg in NYC with his recent anti-big-gulp-pop and hidden cigarettes campaigns.  Think about Rahm Emanuel.  Wouldn't conventional wisdom tell you that being the #1 cabinet adviser to the POTUS is bigger than being mayor of Chicago?  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  I think my sister-in-law Sandy is friends with Rahm Emanuel's brother - he's the Ari Gold character portrayed on HBO's entourage.  No kidding. 

A substantial marketing shift (from the corporate sector to the individual) in the billboard industry seems like a reasonable assumption.  I honestly believe you'll see more of this crap as people try to exert influence and harness control.  It's happening right now.  As of yet, it just hasn't reach that definitive, "boiling" point.  But we're definitely getting there.  And it's even consistent with the socioeconomic trash-movement fixation.

So this one's for my friend "Hostile Golfer."  A strong opener from the Vet.  I've said it before and I'll say it til I die, 1989 was the best year for the Dead.

Is the Maury Povich show a modern day concentration camp?

I always had a hunch that Maury Povich was Jewish.  His mannerisms, his behavior, his schnoz... to be honest, he often reminds me of myself.  So I googled him and sure enough, he's the son of Ethyl Friedman and Shirley Povich.  I find it odd when men are named Shirley.  It's that old Airplane conundrum.

Twas not a lesbian couple that created the zygotic, embryonic emperor of the daytime talk show circuit.  In fact, his father was a sportswriter for the Washington Post.  See... this just goes to show that you can learn something of exceedingly minimal value every day.

Of course Maury is known for one thing above all else.  And that's paternity tests.  We've all seen the hurling of accusations and the celebratory dance moves.  We've all witnessed the pain and sorrow... and the jubilation and exultation. 

I'd like to take a moment and focus on the people.  Because it is the sum of these individual parts that constitute "Maury's essence."  Rest assured, without all these human beings and all their intrinsically fascinating tales of good lovin' gone bad, there would not be a Maury.  No stories to be told = no Maury.  No miracle babies = no gifts from god.  And that equation would not bode well for a god fearing, Christian nation.  Cuz in the 1950's, we left it to Beaver.  But nowadays, we leave it to Maury.  And rightly so.

Saf, what the fuck are you blathering about?  And why on earth would you equate the holocaust with The Maury Show?  Incidentally, I prefer to omit the "The" from the title.  This is consistent with how he used to refer to himself (from an omniscient perspective).  He used to speak with this beaming pride... "Come to Maury Show."  Am I the only one who finds this peculiar? 

Having watched Schindler's List, we should all be cognizant that names are critical to the human experience.  I believe it was Joseph Stalin who said, "One death is a tragedy, one million is a statistic."  Ironic that he would be responsible for the death of about 43 million, give or take a mil. 

Do you see what I'm inferring?  On the Maury show, there's just this endless parade of low-end humanity.  People whose sole purpose for existence is geared toward nothing but reckless procreation.  With every 7 minutes comes a new and vibrant story.  A baby momma and an alleged baby daddy.  Such is the cycle of life.  Long lists of names and corresponding social security numbers.  Don't kid yourself.  You're nothing more than a name and a number.  Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.  You're just not as special as you or your parents think you are. 

And I know this sounds crazy, but the names bear a striking resemblance to the war torn European regions of the 1940's.  You'd think residents of a HUD development in Chicago would bear little resemblance to the names of concentration camps.  You would be mistaken.  Each forced labor camp or extermination facility had a unique name and location.  Just like Maury.

I'll steer clear of the German camps.  Instead, let's look at some of the other Eastern bloc countries.

In Lithuania, there was Volary.  On Maury, there's Unari (which is actually a divine mix of elf and unicorn, although I doubt that was the mother's intention).

In Yugoslavia there was Danica, Kruscica and Banjica.  On Maury, there's Latisha, Shianta and Rashanda.

My personal favorite - in Poland there was Schmolz.  On Maury, there was a baby named Snoog (not a joke).  What a kind gesture for a mother to name her 6th born son "Snoog."  I'm guessing she was a Snoop Dogg fan and combined the two names.  Hell, even Snoop changed his name to Snoop Lion.  He's on some kind of Jamaican Rastafarian kick these days.  Good for him.

In Estonia, there was Vavara.  In France, Tendrara.  On Maury, we have Uniqua (pronounced you-knee-kwuh) and Sheberta.  Personally, I like the name Sheberta.  Think of it as in-between course mini orange sherbet.  Maybe there's a future for some kind of sorbet at McDonalds.  If everyone were to share an entree, say 20 piece Chicken McNuggets, McRib sans bun, filet o' fish (again with no bun)... well, it loosely resembles an upscale tasting menu. 

Trust me, this goes way beyond the urban African American culture.  It extends deep into the land of the whitey.  West Virginia Northern Panhandle - I'm lookin' straight atcha. 

As I've been saying, all babies are precious.  So much so, that I named my daughter "Precious."  It could have been worse.  I almost spelled it Preshuss.  I just didn't want her to be confused with that doggie in Silence of the Lambs.

Every baby is a gift from God.  In fact, rumor has it that one infant was named "Bay-Bee."  That's right.  Just in case you're overwhelmed by the joys of parenting and forget the actual newborn status.  

I also like the new breed of names that represent states of existence.  Of course, you have the ingenious "Heaven" and backwards spelled "Neveah."  The latter is VERY popular.  Although, doesn't the name itself imply the exact opposite.  That being hell.  This does make sense, because in all likelihood, Neveah will be condemned to a hellish existence.

Treasure, Virginity, Innocence, Tolerance, Eternity and even Pubescence.  These names have more of a caucasian-trash feel.  Saffy like.  Sometimes, I physically ache for a Mulva.  Dare to dream.

Even better are the compound names... Liberty Bell and Eternal Flame are fine examples.  If you wish, feel free to throw in a hyphen (Vas-Deferens has a nice Jeffrey Dahmer-Swedish vibe).  Gang Banger has a nice ring to it.  Perfect for a thuggish, matronly adviser to the adult entertainment industry.

If you're a morbidly corpulent black woman, how about you try an apostrophe?  It will distinguish your kid from all the others.  Why go with Tanisha when you have the legal opportunity to name the child Ta'anisha?  All these new, culturally urban prefixes... La, Sha, Ja, Mo, Ka.  Perhaps the day will come when all the surnames become one.  They'll merge into a unilateral name of triumph... Lashamokita.  Sounds like a tasty caffeinated beverage served aboard public transit.

I recall this one baby on Maury.  His name was "King James."  When the customary backstage photo was displayed on the widescreen, the mother gazed proudly and stated,  "Yeah, that's my baby Murray.  That's right.  I crowned him king.  Yeah Murray."  From a Povich historical perspective, I believe this to be a shining moment.

Does anyone remember when Prince became the "Artist formerly known as the Treble Clef / Symbol of Love".

I'm surprised this never caught on.  Because if you're allowed to use an apostrophe, the possibilities are endless.  There's all kinds of symbols out there and if the current climate of parenthood is any indication, now could be the time for the "Prince trend" to reemerge.

+enta is Placenta

%iah = Percentia
or
% illah  = Percentilla

=itty becomes Equality

*ia is Asteriskia

/inka = Slashinka (sounds like Treblinka, a well known Polish concentration camp)

$ondra could be Cashondra

It's just a matter of time before someone latches onto this concept.  The precedent was established long ago.

How about using the infamous heart symbol?  ♥ E Stu.  That turns into one of those eccentric compound names... Hearty Stew.  As a fan of vegetables and non-kosher meats, this one has an inexplicable panache that could be attributed to a Pittsburgh Jewish yinzer fatso.  Oy-vey.  The days of "the Bubby" ended long ago.  Maybe the Jews and the blacks will soon unite.  And on that sacred day, Yarmulka will become Yummika.  Can you tell that I'm prepping a batch of matzoh ball soup for the Pens-Fleyers game tomorrow night?  Not just those mundane Jew balls.  I'm gonna throw in some chicken, celery, carrots, parsnips and an onion.  Parsnips?  Damn straight.  It will be yummika.

So Saf... what puts you at the forefront of this "unique name" movement.  You don't have any children.  For the love of Allah, you've never even changed a diaper!
But here's what you don't know.  I've already been there, done that.  Back in 2005, I NEARLY persuaded a girl from Bellaire, Ohio to name her baby girl "Chlamydia."  Can one even begin to fathom the glory?  Chlamydia from Bell-Dirty.  Perhaps one day.  One day.     

This ain't some urban legend "Lemonjello / Orangejello" bullshit myth.  Chlamydia could've been the real deal.  I was closer than the 49ers winning a 6th Superbowl.  Viva Le Steelers!