dominipede poem

I wrote this poem a couple days ago while me, Gigi and my parents took a cruise on the Columbia and Snake Rivers through various sections of Oregon, Washington and Idaho.  Beautiful scenery and fascinating history.  If you wish to fully comprehend the poem, visit my website.

http://agsaf.org

Dominipede

I wish to convey, some critical information
To all the citizens, of this once great nation

The mode of delivery, will be poetry and rhyme
About multiple disasters, that transpire in real time

Our First Amendment rights, offer excellent reach
For a writer and activist, with a commitment to preach

The subject is dangerous, but I cannot resist
It's all about a word, that doesn't currently exist

An act of pure evil, an incomprehensible deed
A cascade of terror, I've termed it... dominipede

I personally have issues, with government accountability
their moral standards, when it comes to discernible inevitablity

Certain people have knowledge, they're not willing to relate
Instead of divulging, they'd prefer just to wait

On second thought, this might not be entirely true
Because at the heart of it all, lies a catch 22

For if you decide, to acknowledge and speak
Your chances for reelection, become incredibly weak

So silence becomes, a predictable norm
Rather than confronting, the inevitable storm

An untouchable issue, a test for humanity
Designed to play off, our collective insanity

Like a gun without bullets, something completely unique
It's impossible to fathom, the havoc one could reek

The NFL would provide, the best choice for a venue
Calling, hacking, spoofing, texting...  just ingredients on a menu

The obvious choices, the places I fear most
Are in the South, Midwest and all over the East Coast

The most likely cities, the more inviting targets
Are the lesser known teams, in the much smaller markets

The people impacted, random victims of fate
their passion for football, and the 1 o' clock slate

Feel free to add another, to this supplemental attack
Encompassing INDY Racing fans, or even a NASCAR track

Social media, would play a likely role
with Twitter and Facebook, exacting their toll

Synthetic terror, minds of throngs sharply penetrated
Resulting in bodily crushes, that are artificially generated

An evident saturation, of alerts gone viral
Tripping, falling, stomping... as it all starts to spiral

Widespread panic, quickly taking its toll
In multiple locations, there would be no control

Assaults depending heavily, on timing and information
Coupled with herding instincts and a fear of predation

A reliance on ignorance, and a populace adrift
New tactics in combat, a permanent shift

Now consider the progression, of malicious intent
The stakes are too high, so I will never relent

For everyone has these weapons, we call them cell phones
And they can be just as deadly... as bombs, guns or drones

The questions of who, how, why... when and where
Will become part of the conspiracy, and we're already there

The pieces of the puzzle, I have a hunch how they'll fit
But the most troublesome aspect, is that we were all in on it

It's frustrating to know, that as hard as I try
It was simply one big hoax, it was the ultimate lie

For it could be only one, wishing to settle a score
That ushered in this new era, of generational war

Why I didn't go see Kip Winger at Generations in Wheeling, WV on 8-23-13

This morning I saw a road sign at the Elm Grove intersection of Rt. 88 and National Road.  It was for a "rock concert" that happened about a month ago.

I was taken aback for roughly 3 seconds.  In all honesty, I almost blacked out.  After I came to my senses,  I turned into the nearby Glo-Tone Parking lot and snagged the sign.  It was as if my hands and feet were being controlled by some kind of "dark presence."  This "evil under-lord" wanted me to resurrect the sign and plant it in my front yard. 

So Saf, why didn't you go to the big Kip Winger show at Penetrations?  Could you give me one good reason?  I mean, are you crazy or something?  Aren't you always complaining that there's "nothing to do in Wheeling?"  How could you miss this end of summer, blow out blast?

Hey, not only was this show termed "The Triumphant Return of Kip Winger to the Ohio Valley," it was also billed as "300 Days til Next Jambo" and "WVNCC Nursing Students - We Welcome You With Open, Flabby Arms."  And not only that, they'll be running a wing special.  Buy 20 wings and get a free pitcher of tepid Bud Light with glasses piping hot (right out of the dishwasher).  While all that does sound promising, I just didn't take the bait.    

Still, you're asking - "Saffy, Why didn't you hit the show?" 
I can actually hear the voices circling in my head, "You're an idiot - The whole gang was there." 

There's only one way to explain away all this cynicism. 

It's called another Top 10 list.

Top 10 Reasons I Didn't Get Winged in the Swing Club

10.  Am I the only person who can't stand these melodramatic acoustic renditions of bad 80's glam
metal?  Seventeen, Headed for a Heartbreak, etc.  What's the world coming to?  This is the kind of intolerable shit that makes me give Miley Cyrus a second look, or twerk, if you will.

9.  I just don't like seeing street sign advertisements for Generations.  Billboards too for that matter.  First off, it's called the Swing Club.  Always is and always will be.  But the thought of the senior Duplaga standing out in front of the old Bernie Glenn's appliance store, trying to pilfer $3.00 for parking.  Well, that's just too much of a cross to bear.  Even for an atheist Jew.

8.  Just the mere fact that this sign was "manufactured" is a troubling precedent.  The sign itself is evidence.  That's right.  Evidence that there are more of them out there, lurking in the nooks and crannies of Ohio County.  Just as you're rounding some bend out near West Lib or Roney's Point... E-GAD! WINGER IS BACK!  For the love of Christ, it's enough to give you a panic attack and drive off a cliff.  However, at least your death would be an honorable one.  You died for a great cause - you died for the sins of Kip Winger.

7.  What is it about the Ohio Valley?  This same phenomenon happens every time some crappy band or has-been performer comes in for a show at Wheeling Island.  Everyone in the area instantly becomes a dues paying member of their fan club.  It could be Steppenwolf.  It could be Foghat.  Or it could be some off-celebrity like Michael Jackson's physician or the recently acquitted Roger Zimmerman.  Wheeling just seems to have this weird knack for being an "off-kilterred stomping ground."

6.  ADDITION:  WINGER + S = WINGERS

That's right.  Add that "S" and you instantly have some of the worst political pundits and facebook prognosticators - the hardcore, religious right wingers and the lunatic, zany left wingers.

5.  SUBTRACTION:  WINGER - ER = WING

I propose an addendum to the list of the 7 deadly sins.  When you stumble upon the definition of "gluttony" there should be a list of all the different types of wings.  Honey butter garlic, grecian parmesan, ragin cajun, etc.  Lest ye forget the greatest wing paradox of all-time... "HOT RANCH!"  Say it like ya mean it!

4.  I have issues with anybody who calls themselves "Kip."  His real name is Charles Frederick Winger.  Kip is a self-assigned nickname.  And it's not even close.  At least "Rick" and "Ricky" have parts of "Eric."  It's much like if I were to call myself "Flash" or "Zilch" or "Jewbag."

3.  It signals a return of the super teased-up hair.  Get out the 'ol high school yearbook.

This opportunity comes only a few times a year.  It's a god-blessing for the local 3-time divorcees with 4 kids by 6 different baby daddy.  Hire that babysitter and head out for a night on the town.  Or better yet, bring the fam!

There are other times you'll see the regionally saturated hair tease.  It's not just a Winger concert.  There's the Wheeling Park Retro-Dance.  Or maybe if Vance Church holds a candlelight vigil for the late Different Strokes star Dana Plato.  Ohh... the world was her oyster.  Why did she have to leave us?

Hey, some of us actually enjoy the "contented-Puritan" look.  It's as close as I'll ever get to Sugarcreek, Ohio (Amish paradise) or for that matter, the I-77 Zoar/ Bolivar exit.

2.  When you see the sign - it signals the show.  And that means one thing and one thing only.  That this will be either the greatest night or absolute worst night of everyone's collective lives.  There will be no middle ground.  Kip Winger is the embodiment of the full moon.  Relationships will suddenly bite the dust.  New romances will be kindled.  The endless rounds of Jagerbombs, the late night fine dining at Sheetz gas station and of course, a steady slate of DUI arrests.  And of course, there's the domestic violence angle after the show's over.  It's almost like a Miller Lite commercial - great taste, less filling.  Yeah... right.  More like a woman yelling at her husband, "Kip's hot!  You're not!"  Might as well dial 911.

1.  Finally, you know it's bad when you're the butt of Beavis and Butthead jokes.  In this case, a picture speaks a thousand words.  We call it getting "Butted in the Butthead."

Benny Hinn returns to Pittsburgh (Sept. 25-26, 2013)

I can't believe it.  I totally forgot that the world's wealthiest con-artist is returning to Pittsburgh.  Yep... it's Pastor Benny.  And he'll be hosting his routine services at the David L. Lawrence Convention Center.  Three of them.  One of them is an "anointing" service on Thursday morning.  The other two are "miracle healing" services on Wednesday and Thursday.  What's the difference you ask?  I have no fucking idea whatsoever.  Just please don't ask him to cure anything that's visual in nature.  He only does the internal stuff.  Cancer is always a winner.  Unless it's skin cancer, of course (due to the visual detectability issues).

Anyhoo, and I say this with the greatest lament... I will be UNABLE TO ATTEND.  You're all probably thinking - poor Saffy.  Wasn't he the guy who wanted to stage a modern day "tar and feathering" of this asshole?  Then, if that didn't pan out, wasn't he the one who wanted to disrupt the service with some kind of ill-conceived flash mob, air horn protest?  And wasn't he the asshole who staged the Mell-Hinn Arena protest that ended up being the lead story on all Pittsburgh news stations back in 2003?

http://triblive.com/x/pittsburghtrib/news/regional/s_129909.html#axzz2fFhPtyqn

The last time Benny Hinn was scheduled to appear (in 2011), I broke new boundaries that literally boggle the imagination.  It was my intention to team up with the Chrisagis Brothers and hold our own "miracle healing puppet show" outside Soldiers and Sailors Hall.  This had youtube written all over it, but the minister-schmuck canceled at the last minute.  I've always hoped that someone from the Benny Hinn security apparatus stumbled across my blog and alerted him to the possibility of an attack.  Yeah... right.

But like I was saying, I won't be in town.  So here's the new plan.  I'm going to try and pass a "virtual torch."  Yep, that's right.  I'm asking anyone who happens to read this blog entry (which is probably around 20 people) to step up their game.  It's time for you, the reader, to enter the fray and git'r'dun.

As we all know, our miraculous savior is well known for his bleach-white, exorbitantly-priced Italian suits.

So how about this time, we pelt the fucker with all the colors of the gay pride rainbow?
Sounds like a plan.  And here's how we're gonna do it.

The Palace of Gold in neighboring Marshall County held its annual "Festival of Colors" just last Saturday.

Rather than getting "barraged" with "organic" chalk dust, I chose to hit the Pitt-New Mexico game/Queens of the Stone Age concert, but that's another story.

There's actually some amusing amateur footage on youtube.  I refuse to post anything other than the official video.  It's mostly just a bunch of weirdos, smoking grass and gobbling crick-shrooms.  Others consume complimentary vegan gruel served via unsanitary cement buckets.  But rest assured, all in attendance will engage in the requisite song and dance.  All will spread love.  And some will spread their legs in a futile attempt to stem the declining Krishna population.  But I digress.

So here's my idea.  Head up to the Krishna Palace asap.  The best way is to come in the back exit (properly referred to as an Uncle-Dunkle sneak attack).  Ask around and find out who's in charge.  It's likely a distant relative or child abuse victim of the currently incarcerated Swami Bhaktipada.  If they ask for your credentials, tell them you're friends with Mary Joan.  That should suffice.

Phase 1: Now it's time to gather up all the left over angel dust, chalky-dye, baking soda shit.

Phase 2: Drive up to Pittsburgh.  Do not stop at Primanti's.  Do not bitch about the Steelers 0-2 start.  Do not gripe about Mayor Ravenstahl feeling up a stripper.  Head directly to the Burgh. 

When entering the convention center, try to be discreet.  His security is top of the line.  They even use ex-FBI agents.  Let's just say he employs better security than Maury Povich and his goofy lap dog Dave Vitalli with that cranial hair-clump.

Depending on the size and experience of your team, here's my idea.  You can either target Hinn exclusively or storm the stage "Braveheart Bezerker" style.  Either way, let those colors reign down upon that douchebag!  And don't forget to record and post it accordingly on youtube.  A stunt like this would have SERIOUS viral potential.

Afterward, as you're being arrested and arraigned, don't forget to scream, "I'm innocent!  It was all Saf's idea.  That's right.  The devil made me do it.  He's called sonofsaf.  Read his blog."   

New Mexico at Pitt > Millvale Days featuring Super Ginger > QOTSA

Yesterday was quite the Saturday.  Gigi was working til 3pm so I decided to hit up her friend's tailgate at Heinz Field.  I stormed up to Pittsburgh around 11am.  Parked on the cusp of the crack district and walked down to Lot 1.  Her friends (Scott and Sue) along with a few other cars have one of the strongest parking spots for Pitt home games.  About a 12 second walk to Gate B. 

As expected, brunch was served.  I had servings of two different quiches and something they call a "rat-tail."

The actual product looks much more tantalizing.  It's a link of hot sausage, wrapped in a hot pepper, then wrapped in bacon.  Even though I've never consumed "vermin appendage," I imagine it tasted better as well (texture related issues).

Three highlights from the game:

* It took me about 4 minutes to score a free ticket.  And it was a club seat.  So I spent the 1st quarter in the shaded 200 section along the 40 yard line.

* I zipped over to the other side and watched a 40 yard, spectacular end zone catch as the first half expired.

* I stole a ream of large garbage bags under the watchful eye of a young man with an EVENT STAFF t-shirt.  Did he care?  Nope.  I thought he would say something, but he just purposely looked the other way.  He didn't give a damn.

Enter Phase 2:
So Gigi and I zipped down the hill to the annual Millvale Days street fair.  We were immediately confronted by a miniature pro-wrestling ring in the middle of a blocked off intersection.  Seriously, they had this outdoor set-up in the middle of the fucking street.  A crowd of about 200 onlookers watched 2 overweight masked men trading turns choking each other.  When the villain had the upper-hand, he would yell at the crowd and tell them they sucked.  The kids would heckle back, "You suck, Assassin."

This independent wrestling organization is based out of downtown Pittsburgh.  It's known as the K.S.W.A. (Keystone State Wrestling Alliance).  At first, it appeared a little "rag-tag" in nature, but then you start to explore the professionalism of the refs, the toned-down stunts/choreography, the interaction with the crowd, not to mention the dedication of the ring announcer... plus, hey it was free.  Not too shabby.

I thought the crowd should heckle based on townships.  Pittsburgh has all these little boroughs and distinct communities.  Why not exploit the existing high school football rivalries or socioeconomic discrepancies?  "Go back to Lawrencville!" or maybe "Assassin is a phony!  He's not one of us!  He lives in Crafton."

As we left to check out the other attractions, an 11-year-old kid looked at me and yelled "High-Five!"  Not to be a party pooper, I extended my hand outward and the punk bastard slapped it as hard as he could.  Seriously, this kid really went for broke.  My hand stung for about 2 minutes.  I reflected on it and figured it was a misguided act of retribution for the stolen trash bags.  He was likely mimicking his violent heroes in the ring. 

So we "milled around Millvale" for a little bit, taking in the sights and sounds.  This little community, although trapped in some kind of low-income, bizzaro, mid-80's time warp, is actually pretty bad ass.  It's hard to explain.  Let's just say Millvale has a certain character that defies both description and explanation.  I think they should rename Millvale Days... Millin' 'round Millvale.

Lots of eclectic booths, a mix of bars and churches, volleyball and musicians, street peddlers, a low-end farmer's market, etc.  Last time we were there, a man accosted us - he tried to give us a free "nutritional replacement bar."  He stammered, "We're trying to get a foothold in the community!"  Gigi and I just looked at each other in awe as he delivered this aggressive, disjointed sales pitch.  I'm still not sure what he was trying to do - either sell us a timeshare in Millvale or get us interested in some kind of granola bar selling pyramid scheme.

On our way back, the studio wrestling was coming to a close.  There was an 8-man, old-school, over-the-top-rope battle royal.  I was little worried because the ring was exceptionally small and the outside of the ring was straight asphalt (not very forgiving).  Anyway, they introduced the first contestant.  A mysterious entity emerged from the back of a U-Haul in a nearby alley...

Okay.  Now when I was a kid, I used to worship pro wrestlers.  I knew them all.  The angry Russians, the cowardly sheiks, the scientific lame-o's... trust me, I get it.  But honestly, what the fuck is that???  Turns out it was "SUPER GINGER!"  I was totally overcome with emotion.   I'd never even conceived of a character like this.  The closest comparison I can recall was "Doink the Clown."  There was George "The Animal" Steele, but the K.T.S.A. doesn't have enough in its coffers to properly finance edible turnbuckles. 

Super Ginger really lived up to the hype.  Whether or not he had soul is debatable..  His mannerisms really encapsulated the authentic ginger spirit.  Very quixotic and skittish.  I think he took his cue from a South Park episode where Cartman is transformed into a fake ginger and must adapt.

And onto phase 3:
We zipped down to the North Shore.  There was a sold-out Pirates vs. Cubs game so traffic was kind of a mess.  I reluctantly parked next to a meter that said "No parking on stadium event days."  I thought about the earlier Pitt game at the stadium.  Although it had ended 4 hours earlier, I was a little nervous.  What if they fuck me?  Then I thought, what if the Pixburgh parking enforcement goon-thugs claim that the "ballpark" is a "stadium?"  Having been previously sodomized by a "unmarked, low-curb, church-zone" $120.00 parking ticket during a 2011 Ravens/Steelers game, let's just say I try to exercise an ample degree of discretion.

It took us about 20 minutes, but we scored 2 free Queens of the Stone Age tickets.  Huzzah!  Both came from obedient concert-goers standing in line.  One was from a large, oafish dude.  The other from a pleasant, nerdy high school kid.  I think the younger kid was afraid that if he tried to sell the ticket, he might get arrested by the cops.  Big brother at its finest.  The slightest risk of any infraction for any perceived criminality... Way to go Janet Napolitano!  Thanks for keeping us all safe during your 6 year reign of pseudo-terror, swabbing kid's wheelchairs and fondling granny groins.  Now go enjoy your stint as the overlord of UCLA.  You deserve it!

I'd been looking forward to this show all summer.  I'm a big fan of QOTSA.  If you've never heard of them, they're the musical equivalent of a heavier version of the Foo Fighters.  But a little more spacey and erratic. 

 
We went into the fray for the opening.  I didn't check the set list, but I've downloaded a bunch of boots from 2013, so I knew they come out heavy.  The early strobe lights had Gigi immediately back off.

This concert was way too loud.  It had this piercing effect.  We had our modified ear-plugs in (paper towel).  This made it manageable.  I started to realize something.  I like about only 1/2 their material.  And I really can't stand the other half.  So I just skip through it at will.  But if you're at the concert, you have to take the good with the bad.  It made the whole experience kind of exhausting.  Like I said, these guys are consummate professionals.  But there's just too many Radiohead-esque interruptions and extended intros and outros.  They have this unique heavy-hippie vibe, but sometimes, it's just too excessive and overbearing.

Suddenly, a tiny bunny rabbit skipped by us.  This critter was terrified as it made its way into the metallic throng.

I hate to sound like a pessimist, but it was likely stomped to death.  The closest analogy would be if I, a self-hating atheist Jew, journeyed to the Hajj seeking inner peace... and was trampled to death in a Muslim-o-rama, Mecca-licious stampede.  This rabbit would likely would have fared better if it were hunted by former 2012 Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney.  After all, he was a self-described "lifelong hunter" of "small game, varmints and such."

Another concert in the books.  And a free fireworks display (SkyBlast) during the concert.  Although it was partially obstructed by the North Shore building that houses the Jerome Bettis Grill.  Here's the set list:

Artist Queens of the Stone Age 

Venue Stage AE, Pittsburgh, PA, USA

Tour ...Like Clockwork Tour

• 1. My God Is the Sun
  2. You Think I Ain't Worth a Dollar, but I Feel Like a Millionaire
  3. No One Knows
  4. Hangin' Tree
  5. Burn the Witch
  6. The Sky Is Fallin'
  7. …Like Clockwork
  8. In the Fade
  9. Kalopsia
  10. If I Had a Tail
  11. Little Sister
  12. Make It Wit Chu
  13. Smooth Sailing
  14. Better Living Through Chemistry
  15. Sick, Sick, Sick
  16. Go With the Flow
  17. Encore:
  17. The Vampyre of Time and Memory
  18. Feel Good Hit of the Summer
  19. A Song for the Dead

I wish these guys would let me write their set list.  I'd blow it out of the ballpark.  And speaking of ballparks (and stadiums for that matter), I didn't get a parking ticket.  F'in A.  Still though, don't fuck with the Pittsburgh Parking Authority.  Much like the ginger population, they have no soul.    

Toledo McRampage

Normally, I wouldn't post these types of shock value videos.  I figure they probably get enough coverage in the "twisted-bloggosphere."  But this one is just too strong, too brutally honest, too mighty.  And its coming shortly off the heels of the Mileage Cyrus twerking meltdown.  And in the face of the current low-wage fast food employee crisis.

Simply stated, this one deserves greater recognition.  On Labor Day, I proudly giveth thee "Toledo McRampage."  If you can't devote the precious minute and a half, you have no soul.

Alright, I thought about doing a Top 10 Reasons Why I Support the McNugget Rampage Woman, but it would be too much info.  Impossible to fit on a t-shirt.  And while I do think this deranged woman deserves our collective embrace, I'll just settle for a Top 10 "observations." Strictly for reference purposes, this list is no particular order.  I write them as I go.

10.  Let's start it out with a Bob Weir wang dang doodle.  When the woman (I'm going to refer to her as McMeth - not to be confused with the Shakespeare character Macbeth).  As I was saying, when McMeth growls, "Don't make me assume my ultimate form!"  Okay, I'm not completely naive.  I knew this had to be stolen from somewhere.  Turns out that it's from some 1980's/90's Asian cartoon character called Dragonballz or something.  Kinda sad.  Because there was this little part of me that wanted it to be an original.  Like I said.  I'm a cynical realist.  Sometimes you gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em.  

9.  In the latter stages of the video, some employee tries to ascertain the reason for her hostile disposition.  In the background he asks, "What's going on?  Did she get burnt by an apple pie or something?"  Strong move on that dude's part.  He's obviously an astute observer of cognitive dissonance.  This woman must be hurt.  Is it a physical wound from the scalding apple pie?  Or is it an emotional wound from the lack of McSustenance?  I'd like to hear more from this guy.  It's been rumored that after she peeled out, he asked, "Did she have a salon perm, or was that an Ogilvy Home perm?"

8.  The woman screams another zany line, "I'm gonna eat your fucking face off and digest it."   Yep... that pretty much speaks for itself.  Does anyone remember that naked Miami dude who was "high on bath salts" and ate most of his buddy's face off?  They labeled him the Causeway Cannibal.   For this chick, I prefer McMeth (her real name is Melodie Dushane). For the mainstream press, maybe go with "The Toledo Terror."

Anyway, just for reference purposes - here's a pic of the Miami Zombie.

And here's a pic of the the edible homeless guy (pre-app)...

7.  "Unless your speaking McNuggets into my hands..."

This is where her comments take on an almost biblical persona.  God communicates with her directly through the anticipatory 6-Piece McNug.  It's as if that oozing pink slime forms some kind of intestinally-inspired esophageal flap.   McMeth should have growled, "Do not covet thy McNuggets!" or even better... "Thou shalt not covet thy McNuggets."  Command that shit.

Just an aside - We have no way of knowing if she wanted a 6 piece, 12 piece or the 20 piece box extravaganza.  If it was the oft-neglected 9-piece, I believe this may indicate "satanic leanings, or if you will, demonic inklings." 

6.  Early on, she calls the employee a "fat meatbag."  This reminded me of an ill-fated venture I had at the Wendy's in Elm Grove.  I zipped in the drive thru from the main drag (rather than circling the building).  Anyway, this woman behind me felt like I cut her off.  She stuck her head out the window and yelled at the top of her lungs.  He wants a "faggotburger"  This shit happened 3 years ago, but the memory is still as painful as it is vivid.  Feels like yesterday.

5.  Is it me or does the state of Ohio just seem to have a monopoly on these weird issues with deranged junkies, parents who imprison their children in cages, lots of non-consensual sex acts with various mammals (man on dog, man on chicken, man on goat, etc.) and misc. dungeon-held sex-slaves?  Incessant incest, as well.

I always thought this problem was indigenous to the Northeast quadrant (Cleveland, Akron, Youngstown, etc.).  But it seems to be migrating in an easterly direction.  Maybe it has something to do with paving improvements on I-80.  I do not know.

4.  I must be showing my age (43).  Until now, I've always thought of McDonald's villains in this passe, cartoonish, non-threatening kinda way .  Grimace, Hamburglar...  Well, I'm not sure Grimace was evil.  In fact, he seemed both corpulent AND loveable.  Hamburglar though... he was a little sinister (kind of like a diminutive Bashar Al-Assad).  Maybe even more like his father, Hafez Al-Assad.  But McMeth has set a new standard.  I know, I know... the genocide, the chemical weapons... what about the sarin gas?  Trust me: McMeth has raised the bar.  She has set a new standard.  A great man (Mike Tomlin) once said, "The standard is the standard."

By the way, someone on the comedy circuit needs to call Al-Assad...  All-Ass Hole.  Back in 2001, they interviewed this one Belmont County dude on WTOV-9.  they asked him what his thoughts were on Osama Bin Laden.  He replied, "That guy's a real asshole!"  They bleeped it out.  But you could easily discern that he said "asshole."

3.  Time has come for a REVERSE - Fire in the Hole!  Having originated in nearby Beaver County, PA, these videos clips are particularly poignant.

Yeah bitches!  An ultimate reversal (similar to the foosball move "ultimate rebuttal" and to a lesser extent, "szechaun."  Instead of soda (we call it pop) or soft ice cream cones, let us have all McDonald's employees submit a daily, "collective" urine sample.  Located next to the take out-window at all times, if customers go wolfman bezerker... well, then they get a retaliatory, drenching golden shower.     

2.  Alright, here's the numero uno question, at least as I see things.  Why in name of Allah did they edit in that additional cat-hissing noise?  Her mouth isn't even open during the second deluge.   Yeah... it's a nice effect, but it really undermines the credibility.  Total fugazi.  Some will even claim the whole thing was staged (no fuckin' way in hell).  This could raise a quandary for future internet historians.  And we all hold one truth to be self evident... ain't nobody got time for that!

1.  So what exactly is the takeaway from all this shit?  What have we learned from this rich tapestry, the unfolding "frantic fabric" of that which is McMeth?

Well, I'm still at a loss.  As an act of complete desperation, perhaps the Wheeling PD could offer up their detective skills.  Maybe form some kind of Wheeling-Toledo "crime corridor" task force?  When they make the trek to collaborate, stick 'em all on the Wheeling Nailers bus.   That way, the taxpayers save a little $ (very tea party/Sarah Palin inspired).  Speaking of Sarah, I named my new cat after her!

I give you.... Palin.

Boring/Loudmouth PGA fans

Fans who attend professional golf exhibitions are normally known for exhibiting courtesy.  It's an upscale audience.  They tend to be mild-mannered and respectful. 

However, there's always some bozo in the crowd who yells "GO IN THE HOLE !!!"  Sometimes it's even a shot where there's no reasonable expectation of making it.  It could be a tee shot on a par 5 or a layup from the deep rough.  This guy (most likely an uninspired meathead drinking an $8.00 Bud Light draft) thinks he has cornered the market on golf humor.  I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's just not funny anymore.  Maybe it was 15 years ago, but nowadays... meh.

Here's an idea that would be vastly more comical.  How about yelling out the name of your favorite rock'n'roll album?

Think about it.  Right after a golfer hits the ball, you yell "Master of Puppets!" or "Song Remains the Same!"  Heavy metal songs would be the best choice.  Personally, I'd go the Slayer route.  So many gems... "Angel of Death", "South of Heaven", "Chemical Warfare", "Haunting the Chapel", I could list these song titles all day, all night.

You might be wondering - Saf, the thoughts that enter your head... Exactly how do these ideas originate?  Where do they come from?  Is it something in your DNA (delivery of nonsensical aberrations).  To be honest, this one's not entirely my own.

Back in the 1998-2003 time frame, there was a fan in the audience of many a Leftover Salmon show.  During a brief pause in between songs, the applause would dissipate and this guy would yell at the top of his lungs, "PLAY SOME SLAYER YOU FUCKING PUSSIES !!!"

This man was Ken D.

The bootlegs still exist.  And so could the famed footage from Augusta, GA (The Masters), Pebble Beach, etc.

Let us modify this vision and extrapolate a new path forward.  It would likely catch on quick.  I guarantee it would be a ratings boost.  And it would be great fodder for the casual viewer.  All around, it's a win-win.

Cheap Trick - an inexpensive reality (Pittsburgh, Stage AE, 8-21-13)

Gigi scored us a couple freebies for Cheap Trick so we made the routine trek on down to Stage AE.   I'm starting to think that if you pay the $10 or $12 parking fee, you're a complete bozo.  The best spots are along the main drag of Heinz Field.  I think you just have to wait until after 6pm.  I say park on the street and bring your chairs into the lot.  Or you can do an inverted, illegal backdoor entrance a la G Max.

The whole area outside Heinz field is starting to resemble some kind of a TSA/Dept. of Homeland Security steel-gated labyrinth.  In fact, we found out last night that the main lot (what was formerly the Southeast corner of Gold Lot 2) is going to become a "Toby Keith" restaurant.  Only God knows what they'll call it.  Probably the "Grub and Go" or the "Eat and Beat it."  If the thought of ordering a "rump roast", "chilly willy dog" or "Bad-Ass Super Nachos" at the mess hall ain't bad enough...

I guess with Kenny Chesney denouncing any future tour stop at Heinz Field, someone needed to step up their game.  And that someone is Toby Queef.  I actually wrote a semi-inspired blog about this cunt-tree douchebag back in ott-7.  I may decide to launch a protest during the grand opening.  I can see the headline now...

Local Atheist Intolerant Jew Protests Grand Opening of Brand-Spanking New Country Restaurant

My sign would read - People with two first names SUCK.  I've always disliked single syllable first and last names - Bill Todd, Ned George (I actually know him - nice guy), Mary Joan (I know her too - famous Krishna/Palace of Gold representative), etc.

So just as Gigi backs into a tight parking spot, our buddy "Tim the Scalper" is pulling out.  He waves me over and gives us an extra ticket.  "Sell it if you can.  This whole place is worthless."  I gladly accept it and would eventually sell it for $20.  Then, I snagged a couple more freebies from a dude that resembled a heavier version of Nascar driver Jimmy Johnson and sold one of those for $20.  Just as we were heading in, "Ranger the Scalper" engaged us.  Ranger is the second best scalper in the Burgh.  Tim easily owns the heavyweight title.  Anyway, I told him I had one more extra and he suggested I GIVE the ticket to him (which I did).  Instead of "paying it forward," I call this new phenomenon "scalping it forward."  So we ended up +$40 on the night.  Not bad for no effort whatsoever.  Huzzah.

So we skipped the opener - some guy named Freddie Nelson.  You could hear him well from outside.  He was a solo acoustic performer that seemed overly bent on playing cover songs.  I despise those types.  I suppose it could have been worse.  He could have had a harmonica (the scourge of rock'n'roll).  In my mind, harmonicas are the musical equivalent of the bubonic plague.  Well, with one exception.  That being Neil Young.  Trust me on one thing - if Dan Quayle is no John F. Kennedy...

then needless to say, Freddie Nelson... you're no Neil Young.  Secondary huzzah.

It's crazy to think that Cheap Trick was headlining arenas in the late 70's.  I wonder if that's because of the quality of their music OR was it just because of a lack of major draws (15,000 - 20,000).  If you think about it, there were only so many Aerosmith's and AC/DC's back then.  The crowd last night was probably about 1,200 tops.  We heard they gave away 1,000 comp tickets.  Maybe it has something to do with this outlandish instrument.

Rest assured, he brought out that monstrosity near the end for the "Surrender" encore.  But Stage AE ain't the Houston Astrodome circa 1989.  Ohh, how the might have fallen.

     
They used to reference that stadium as one of the "7 Wonders of the World."  In retrospect, that's kind of amusing.  I think I liked the Titans better when they played in Houston.  Always despised their head coach Jerry Glanville.

Even worse was Bum Phillips.

What is it with all those 80's NFL head coaches wearing cowboy hats?

Though I must say, Bum Phillips has a snazzy look in that "goated-fur."  If Jeff Fisher (with the mustache) was still with the Titans, he could probably sell it in the here and now.  The Steelers may have had a rough ride during the Mark Malone/Bubby Brister decade, but it was always inspiring to watch them beat the piss out the Oilers.  Yee-haw.

Regardless of that Tex-anecdote, I've always been an admirer of Cheap Trick.  For a bunch of guys in their early 60's that have been playing since 1973, they sounded pretty damn good.  Clean, crisp and surprisingly very loud.  In fact, I vaguely remember reading an article that classified Cheap Trick as the "loudest" rock band on the planet.  It stated that the decibel level was the equivalent of a 747 taking off.  Next loudest on the list - Gigi's churning dishwasher.

Another nice thing about Cheap Trick - if you don't like any of their songs... well, it's Gonna Be Alright because each one only lasts 3 minutes and 12 seconds.  Tertiary huzzah.

Gigi and I each scored 2 guitar picks.  Not a major challenge as the lead guitarist was literally throwing out handfulls of picks at a time.  Reminiscent of being in the "throes of throws" at a Mardi Gras parade in N'Awlins.

Red and Green.  You couldn't ask for a better combination.  Now it's time to glue each pick to my festivus poles in the living room. 

I will label this dual creation a "Cheap Trick on the rest of us."  Pictures forthcoming.

Git the Skids

Last night, I created a theme, a template if you will, for a pop country music song that could take the world by storm.  Well, maybe not the world.  Just the Kenny Chesney yee-hawing dumbshits which have gained quite a stranglehold throughout the nation.

The song is entitled "Git the Skids."  It's all about how when your life goes to absolute shit... it's time to git the skids.  When your woman fucks your best friend, when your dog gets hit by a teenager texting in her brand new Volkswagen Cabriolet, when your lawnmower won't start, when the Nascar race gets rained out, when the Walgreen's runs out of Skoal long cut wint-o-green dip...

Any of these incidents could result in a decision to "git the skids."  You see - when life HITS the skids, it's time to GIT the skids.  Then, you and your confederate pals will take a journey out the crick or down some navigable holler and torch the fuck out of a dozen skids.  The blazing of the skids becomes an emblematic ritual.  It's a cathartic act - a hootin' and a 'shootin good 'ol time.  You just succeeded in drowning all your sorrows (as the pile of philanthropic wood descends into a heap of rusty nails and tetanus-related staples).  Kudos.

Okay, let's focus on the structure of the song.  A bunch of bad shit just went down and you're feeling sad or pissed off.

The song jumps right out with a sing-a-long style refrain.  Think in terms of The Beatles "She Loves You."  Right outta the gate.  Very authoritative and well-suited for cowboy style deep-throated acapella.

When you hit the skids
You gotta git the skids 

When your truck blows a tire and you ain't gotta a jack
When the Bud runs dry, but the Jack comes back

great lyrics - notice the dual meaning of the words "Bud" and "Jack."  At first, you might think Bud means reefer, but it's actually a reference to Budweiser can - the all-consuming worst choice of cheap domestic beer.  In the second verse, the second "Jack" refers to Jack Daniels (the preferred liquor choice for 4 out of every 5 inbred whiskey drinkers).  The multiple dual meanings instantly give the song an allure of sophistication.  Country music fans ain't as stupid as everyone thinks. 

The next part of the song deals with the actual acquisition of said skids.  Just where we gonna find 'em?  Well, there's a few options.

Tried down at the Texaco station
Cuz it's part of our proud nation

Instant shout-out of faithful allegiance to the oil industry.  Plus you work in a subtle Texas reference.  This is always a winner.  Follow it up with some low-brow patriotism. 

Found a few here, found a few there (background female singers)


Stopped behind the Piggly Wiggly
Where the GIRLS all get giggly

All pop country songs have that one part in the video where the girls show off their daisy duke, cut-off jean shorts.  This part is critical.  You've already touched on patriotism.  Now it's time to turn your attention to the young Southern hotties.  Show these honeys what they're missing.  You might be temporarily down on your luck, but you're still willing to stick your dick in anything with a pulse.  Hell, maybe they could spontaneously jump in the back of the pickup and head on down the road.  Now it's a party!  Best of all, it's in keeping with the established "honky tonk ba-donk-a-donk" tradition.

chorus refrain:

When you hit the skids
You gotta git the skids

When your truck blows a tire and you ain't gotta a jack
When the Bud runs dry, but the Jack comes back

But we still need more skids... and maybe some guns.  Shotguns that is.  Yep, you guessed it - more sophisticated dual meaning is on the way.  Here, here!  Shotgunning a beer is the preferred way to strut your stuff, or as I like to call it, hit your shit.

Sip it through a straw, YEE-HAW (this is how the women-folk drink their beer)
Shotgun Shotgun.  BANG BANG!  BANG BANG! (multiple shirtless fatsos simultaneously shotgunning beers). 

Upon completion each one yells "bang."  Followed by actual gun shot explosions of "bang, bang."  This encourages anyone who graduated 2nd grade to stand up and shout "Bang!  Bang!"  Makes for that very easy-to-comprehend singalong moment for bar patrons and tailgaters across our great land.

Found a few here, found a few there

We're part of the rank and file
We're doin' it country style

"Rank and file" denotes absolute, unwavering support for any aspect of the U.S. military.  And then you tie it together with what constitutes the "country style" (some Levi-wearing, bandana-clad, chaw-spitting, crew-cutted fuckhead). 

Guitar solo section - also, throw in some random stuff, washboard solo, cowbell clanking, goat uttering "baaah," horse going "hee-haw, hee-haw," rooster crowing "cock-a-doodle doo," etc.  This is where the country subservient offspring get to sing along and make the obligatory barnyard noises.  See, it even becomes educational.    Tyler, Austin, Dallas, Houston - any little kid named after a city in Texas gets involved.  And this is how the real memories are made.

And finally, one last stop on the skid acquisition, douchebag expressway.  The token reference to Jesus or anything Christian/godly.

And if you think that no one cares
We'll give a shout-out to the man upstairs

Remember, this song is about being down on your luck.  It's in keeping with the "my wife left me, teen daughter is pregnant, the bank repossessed our trailer, just lost my job and the dog ran away" vibe that is so integral to the foundation of bad pop-country music.  This way, the song becomes about something bigger, something more majestic and heavenly.

Plus, it segues nicely into the final stanza.  You've been driving around aimlessly in your quest for "all things skid."  Then, all of a sudden, you see a giant stack of skids next to a port-a-jon.  It's a god-given miracle!  Only a gentle and caring god would bestow upon us this mega-allotment of skids.

Did you see what god done did?
Yeahhhh, he gave us that big 'ol skid.

Found a few here, found a few there.
Found a few here, found a few there.
Found a few here, found a few there.

As the song starts winding down, the background music starts to slowly fade.  You begin to hear random sounds of laughter.  Maybe someone revving a motorcycle.  People are kickin' it up.  Hootin and hollerin around an old-school skid-style campfire.  Maybe even throw in a Sweet Brown excerpt, "Oh lord, it's a fahr!"  Just to show a little unexpected racial tolerance and afford the last opportunity for musical connaisseurs to chime in.

I've never really thought much about crafting a country music song.  Certainly not one that could be the biggest thing since sliced bread.  But think about it - it's MORE than just some shitty song.  It's a mode of conduct and it's a way of life.  Almost a call to arms.  When you're down on your luck and life hits the skids... YOU GOTTA GO AND GIT THE SKIDS.  It's just who we are.  It's how we're gonna do it.  It's just what we do.  Country folkdom worldwide would have their passion ignited.  Burning skids day and night - it would become the hip new national trend in all things "country-cool."

You git the skids and then you throw a big redneck, shit kicking, stinky horse manure smelling, mother fucking pajama jammy-jam.

I give all the credit to the millionaire country fuck who sings that new song "Chew tobacco... spit, spit.  Chew Tobacco... spit, spit."  I don't know his name but he is my inspiration.  I heard it on country WOMP-FM a couple months ago.

One more thought - when performing the song live, you actually have a roadie throw down a skid in the middle of the stage and torch the fuck out of it.  The fans would go bonkers-hillbilly-ape-shit.  Maybe even come up with some kind of dosey-doe, hoe-down, line-dance move that revolves around the burning skid.  Something the masses could easily mimic which requires absolutely no talent.  It would captivate the hearts and minds of the mongrel horde! 

And just a final observation - nobody has EVER written a song about burning skids.  It's a niche that's literally crying out.  This blog may have started out as a joke, but the more I contemplate, the more I reflect, the more I analyze... THIS SHIT IS A FUCKING WIN-WIN!  Somebody better step up. 

Gotta git the skids!

Steelers vs. Giants game tomorrow night.  Sure it's preseason, but it's the fucking New York Giants... and it's nice to get in some warm weather games before we all freeze our asses off.   And it's nationally televised.  And the risk of a stampede is probably around .003%.  F'in A.

baby royale (w/ cheese): 8 lbs. 6 oz.

Yesterday was epic... specifically for those who live vicariously through the grand achievement of a royal birth.  There might be about 7 billion people on the planet, but this Kate and William baby boy is of the utmost importance.  After she had the baby, the message was delivered by an officially sanctioned courier with a police escort.  I think it was inscribed on some kind of ancient British scrolling paper.

As a practicing atheist Jew, I would have preferred it if the birth announcement were written on parchment, or Klaf as it is called.  The most preferably quality parchment is "Shlil" (the hide of a newborn calf embryo).  They use it for Sefer Torahs (the most prized, holy moly book of them all).  This would have have greatly enhanced my celebratory mood.

If there's one thing our British allies need, it's more royal birth announcements.  Check this guy out. 

Now that's what I'm talkin' about.  These days, you really don't see much in the way of town criers.  If you think about it, this dude has it made.  He probably works a couple minutes about once every 20 years or so.  Gets all gussied up and yells at the top of his lungs.  Saffy like.

I think this town crier/royal birth announcer guy should have come to California back in 2009.  He could have presided over the Octamom delivery.  It's the American equivalent.  Our showbiz imbeciles are their royalty.  Our reality tv idiots are their drunken soccer hooligans.  People celebrating everywhere, dancing in the streets, minor looting, some wilding.  Remember Nadya Suleman?  Whatever happened to her?  Didn't she go bankrupt or do some light porn or something?  This one just ain't worth the Octa-wiki search.

That pic is a little too racy.  Personally, I prefer this softer, more muted version of Octa-baby-momma.

Seriously though, for just having sharted out 8 kids, she looks pretty damn good.

But back in the real world...

Breaking News from Green Park, England:

They just had this massive display of booming cannons.  One of those 21-gun salutes.  For a second, I thought I was watching The Patriot starring Mel Gibson.

Hey.  Perhaps we could have gotten Ted Nugent to fire off some of his guns (to properly welcome the Octamom horde).

Hmmm.  Maybe when Bristol Palin has her second child...  I hope she has twins this time.  I'd name them Fluke and Puke (but that's just me).

If this was photo-shopped, there is no god. 

In fact, maybe Will and Kate will opt for a celebrity-blended baby name.  In this case, it would have to be "Kill" or "Wait."  Although I do know a guy named Killer, and a dog too for that matter... I just don't care for the murderous connotations.  But the second name ain't that bad.  White Lion could play a show outside the maternity word.  Maybe with a wango-tango Nuge opener.

I just thought I'd offer my take on the royal birth.  Odd that the birth of a white baby boy of unfathomable privilege over in Europe is what knocked Trayvon Martin out of the news cycle.  Just something to think about.

everyone's a terrorist

This utterly infuriating video is making its rounds through social media.  It speaks for itself.

I always thought that Wheeling, West Virginia (with its 50+ checkpoints per year, elderly population and ridiculously high ratio of citizens to cops) was the DUI checkpoint capitol of the world.  Perhaps we'll be forced to relinquish that title to Murfreesboro, TN.   The second the cop hollers at this man - "HOW OLD ARE YOU?" with that southern good 'ol boy barbeque twang, I knew it was going to be one helluva ride.

But the anger I feel after watching that bullshit runs so much deeper.  I think a lot of it stems from the 2008 Obama/McCain election.  Allow me to explain.

During the heated campaign, Sarah Palin was often heard stoically yammering on and on about how Senator Barack Obama "pals around with terrorists."  Along with the ingenious slogan "Drill Baby Drill", this was pretty much the essence of the VP campaign which overshadowed McCain's bid for the presidency.  But Saf, aren't you all about supporting even the most extreme elements of freedom of speech?  What... with all your never-ending talk of cellular-induced stampedes?  Well perhaps.  But there is a limit.  Here's why this cop is a troubling microcosm of the evisceration of the 4th Amendment (protection against illegal search and seizure).

When Palin would endlessly recite Obama's ties to domestic terrorism, she did our country an irrevocable disservice.  Although Obama won in an electoral landslide, the popular vote and red/blue color of the map looked considerably different.

	Barack H. Obama	Joseph R. Biden, Jr.	Democratic	69,499,428	52.87%	365	67.8%
	John S. McCain, III	Sarah H. Palin	Republican	59,950,323	45.60%	173	32.2%

Now think about it.  Especially in these redder, rural, low income, low information, more hostile, confederate states south of the Mason Dixon line - the voting population sided with the Republican candidate.  I have no problem with this.  But when McCain (an older, white war hero) lost to Obama (mixed ethnicity, Harvard intellectual), it left a horrible taste in these peoples' mouths.  They felt angry, bitter and betrayed.  Hence, the evolution of the Tea Party and the Mitch McConnell obstruction-at-all-costs directive. 

Now here's the correlation with the asshole cop video.  All these Southern cops who opposed Obama because he was a socialist, or a terrorist, or he wasn't a real U.S. citizen... well all that sentiment didn't magically vanish.  Instead it festered.  And it was really grounded in pure hatred and this seething contempt.  Years later, these people are finally realizing that the dominance of the Caucasian male is over.  In layman's terms, the GOP is in deep shit.  The GOP should be GODP (Grand Old Disintegrating Party).  

But wait one cotton pickin' minute, how the fuck could all these people vote for someone who "pals around with terrorists?"  Isn't it logical to assume that if you hang out with terrorists, than you are by definition "a terrorist."  And if you voted for a terrorist, that likely makes YOU a terrorist.  These would seem like reasonable conclusions.

Now chew on this.  If I'm a small town cop and I pull someone over who has an Obama/Biden bumper sticker, than I'm obviously concerned about whether or not that person is a terrorist.  Hell, it's what the Republican propaganda machine and Fox News says... so it must be true.  And hey, I'm a law enforcement officer entrusted to protect Americans from the evil-doers who are trying to destroy our way of life because they "hate our freedom."

Saf, are you implying the driver in that video was an Obama supporter?  Well, I can't make that assertion.  But I do know the mindset of the cop.  And I am sure of one thing - even though I don't know the pig personally, I do know that he is committed to stopping terrorism.  But here's the obvious discrepancy.  There aren't any terrorists in Murfreesboro, let alone the entire state of Tennessee.  But there sure are a lot of people who drink and drive and do drugs.  Well, I reckon I'll make my rocky top home state a safer place if I go after these hedonistic substance abusers (you know, the ones who drink beer and smoke pot).  So there becomes this bizarre merging of terrorism and DUI checkpoints.   We live in a land where that tiny dicked, pork-bellied abrasive loudmouth is gradually programmed to think that everyone he stops could be a potential threat.  They may not be the actual enemy, but they're the next best thing.  I must do my part as an ambassador and enforcer of the law.  These people who enter my checkpoint -  they're what's available, so it's my duty to take them down and protect my fellow citizens all under the guise of patriotism.

That's the underlying theme and it ain't goin' away anytime soon.  Sickening. 

The funny part... I voted for Obama in 2008.  In 2012, I just couldn't repeat the same mistake.  Saf, WTF - you voted for Mitt Romney???  Of course not.  Instead I journeyed to Utah and voluntarily sucked every Mormon's cock.

Actually, I voted for the Libertarian candidate (New Mexico governor Gary Johnson).  Maybe if I lived in Ohio or PA, I would have reluctantly voted for Obama.  Then again, I've become so disgusted with both parties.  It's really hard to say.  If I get any mileage out of the stampedes, I'll use it to push for negative voting.  It's my next cause (probably a ways down the road).  Unless I get pulled over on that road and illegally detained.

Freedom Run - 2013 Wheeling, WV

I just got back from the annual 5 mile "Freedom Run" in glorious downtown Wheeling.  Finishing time was 43 minutes and change.  Not good, not bad.  Other than the repetitive stench of sewage, I kind of like this race.  It's flat and fast.

Of course, I opted for the usual "race bandit" approach.  The next time there's one of those "Run from the Cops" benefits, I think I'm going to wear my PIGS SUCK t-shirt.

I haven't made it yet but it's a pretty cool design. On the front would be a picture of the infamous pig (of Pink Floyd fame).

Replace that text with "PIGS SUCK"

On the back of the shirt it reads:

ATHEIST JEWISH

KOSHER ALLIANCE 

OF THE OHIO VALLEY

... one day.

I also like the AJKAWVNP (Atheist Jewish Kosher Alliance of the West Virginia Northern Panhandle).

Cruised up to Pittsburgh.  Gigi and I hit the downtown fireworks.  Met up with our friends and their daughter on the Roberto Clemente Bridge.  They regaled with some furry stories.  That's right - it's Anthrocon 2013 at the Convention Center and they were staying at the hotel next door.

I suppose this is a good time... or at least the manifestation thereof.  One would think the furries would host their all-star convention when it's a little colder outside.  Maybe October?  Early July in the Burgh is a bit hot and muggy.   Doesn't bode well for the rumored sexual proclivities of the animal-garbed weirdos.  And what about all the fireworks?  Assuming they're immersed in role-playing, wouldn't they all want to go hide in a utility closet or under a bed (nervously shaking and shivering).

Two years ago, Gigi was covering the furries and a "turtle" purposely stomped on her foot during the closing ceremonies (a parade where they march around a conference room).  She was pissed about it.  But I think that upright turtle was probably trying to teach her a lesson - you humans don't belong here.  You're not part of our world!  This is our time to shine.  Leave us alone.  Get the fuck outta here!

If I were a furry, what animal would I choose to emulate?  A wolf, a dog, a fox???  I wouldn't even know how to answer an inquiry of such extravagant douchebaggery and unparalleled dumbshittedness.   

The best part of Anthrocon 2013... it coincided with the final game of the Phillies/Pirates series.  Hordes of Philly fans always show up at PNC Park.  So at least the furries got a taste of some hardcore verbal bashing.   I can hear the Philly fans now as they walk towards the ballpark.  It's an old-school East coast scolding.  "God damn piece-of-shit make-believe mutt.  Get a life you fucking retard rhino.  If I hear that owl "hoot" one more time, I'm gonna give him a smack."  And the best part - the human-morphed animals won't talk back... so that makes the Philly fans even more irate. 

Oddly enough, I had another encounter this morning with Pittsburgh Pirates owner Bob Nutting and talked about the you-know-what.  He was very cordial... just like last time.  But honestly, I think he'd prefer it if we lived in different cities.  He'll smile diplomatically, but in his heart, I know he's thinking "for the love of god, not him again."  And this was only our second encounter.  So until the next time... 

Phillies 6
Pirates 4

Am I the only one who would enjoy witnessing a late season, post all-star break Pirates collapse?  Nope, there's Danno.  Honestly, I have mixed emotions.  It would be cool to see a Bucs playoff game.  But it does go against everything I've been preaching for the last decade or so.  There's just too much energy and talent this year.  I think they make the post season and then likely falter under the high expectations.

Maybe the furries should have a 5K.  Scampering through the streets of the Burgh. It would be a sight to behold.  Sounds like one big furry hot mess.  Finish it up with some kind of "furry orgy."  Put the damn thing on pay-per-view and gross a few million.  I've never ordered a pay-per-view event but I would not be entirely reticent or overtly dismissive.

decentralized Wheeling Dog Park solution

For the past few weeks, all I've seen on facebook is friends encouraging everyone to vote for a dog park in Wheeling.  We NEED this dog park so bad.  You MUST go to the link a click it repeatedly. Now THAT is some forward thinking activism!

I guess there's a $100,000 on the line, so that should be sufficient to build the requisite fences and mow a few trails.  Other than buying a few industrial trash cans for the impending loads of dog shit, I don't see why this would cost so much.  Most of the cost would just be upkeep from the city.

So if we get enough people to click on the petsafe.com "bark for your park" contest, perhaps the day will come when Wheeling has its very own dog park.  Personally, I think if you give the city administrators a hundred grand, they'll likely find a way to waste it on refurbishing the parking meters in Center Wheeling.

Just an aside, I've always been a proponent of bringing back old-school dog names.  Names like "Tippy" and "Fido."  I don't like it when people give their dogs human names (Alex, Cynthia, etc.).  Or even worse, the hippie or band names (Sunshine, Elvis, Jim Morrison, etc.).

When I think of heroic dog names, my thoughts harken back to the early 80's.

That's right.  The Moondogs!  Rex and Spot Moondog were tag team champions on many of the regional circuits.  These were some honorable dogs.  They were even memorialized in doll-form... and rightly so.  They were as rich in WWF tradition as they were in WCW.

So here's the current rankings in the never-ending quest for the ultimate dog park contest.

0	1	Mountain House, CA	45147		Visit Page
0	2	Texarkana, TX	37408		Visit Page
0	3	Wheeling, WV	31259		Visit Page
0	4	Oxford, AL	24962		Visit Page
0	5	Conway, AR	23834		Visit Page
0	6	Pontiac, IL	18906		Visit Page
0	7	Auburn, NY	17608		Visit Page
0	8	Brighton, TN	15035		Visit Page
0	9	New Braunfels, TX	12811		Visit Page
1	0	Safford, AZ	12351		Visit Page
1	1	West Columbia, SC	9209		Visit Page
1	2	Mason City, IA	7573		Visit Page
1	3	East Hartford, CT	6186		Visit Page
1	4	Silver Cliff, CO	5936		Visit Page
1	5	Corpus Christi, TX	4693

Hot damn!  Wheeling is on the cusp of second place.  Maybe they'll win (I doubt it).

Anyway, here's a solution if we fail to get the votes.  I call it the "decentralized, resilient Wheeling Dog Park."  Assuming we lose out, don't just throw away all this prior internet/facebook participation.  Let's get an administrator to follow through with a "revolving" dog park.  Compile a list of dog owners and set up one of those snazzy facebook groups - I'd call it either "Wheeling has Gone to the Dogs" or "My Dogs are Barkin."  The latter being a reference to the Jewish moccasins I wear as a substitute for golf shoes.  They currently stink.

Every month it would be some new location around town.  All that's really required is an open space and a trash can or dumpster for the aforementioned dog shit.  How about the Wheeling Jesuit University soccer field?  How about the Oglebay Formal Gardens?  How about that community park in Bethlehem?  How about the parking lot behind Super Buffet?  They just caution-taped off the parking lot and altered the sign - renamed it AC Buffet.  Looks like some big changes are on the horizon for that dining establishment.  Does AC really stand for air-conditioned?  Seriously, what else could it mean?  Atlantic City??? When asked where I ate lunch, I kinda like the idea of saying, "Listen asshole, we went to the air conditioned buffet."

Reminds me of a facebook complaint regarding the recent Kenny Chesney concert at Heinz Field.  Fans were disgusted with the amount of post-concert trash left behind. 

This one person commented how "she saw a young woman throw an entire bowl of potato salad at a moving vehicle for no apparent reason."  To which I replied, "Not to play devil's advocate... but I kinda like it when a young woman throws an entire bowl of potato salad at a moving vehicle for no apparent reason."

So that's that.  You just send out the update on where it will be every month, and bada bing bada boom... there's a storming of the mutts.  The best part is that it's always changing.  Makes things way more interesting if you ask me.  And I think the dogs would agree.  Dogs are like people.  Even though it's the best and cheapest option, you don't always want to play the Crispin front 9.

One final thought, my least favorite canine-inspired wrestler was a dullard... Junkyard Dog.  His routine was seriously lackluster.

Oh, look.  He's on all-fours, barking at the crowd.  Now he's tossing Purina milk bones to the crowd.  If you want my opinion, he was a lame-ass, chintzy prop wrestler.  I prefer the exhilarating tenacity of Jim Adler, a Texas-based Junkyard Dog ambulance chasing, insurance collaborator.