King Diamond Tea Party Rally (Pittsburgh 10-19-14)

If you go to one of those Tea Party gatherings, you'll likely run into a few weirdos.  Ted Nugent, Senator Cruz's dad, Sarah Palin and her kids (Trick, Treat, Track, Fig and Scrod).  Gotta love the trendy names for kids these days.  On a recent Maury Povich this mother was trying to establish paternity for her newborn baby girl "Arraya Sunshine."  Gigi exclaimed, "Ohhh, I kinda like that name" while I simultaneously puked in my own mouth (the distinctive taste of bleu cheese stuffed olive).

Speaking of more tasty cuisine (as opposed to bile and vomit) our crew dined on spaghetti with chicken meatballs, tossed salad and Italian bread.  The perfect dinner compliments of Gig.  Pam brought dessert.  When she walked in the door I blurted out, "There's no place I'd rather eat than Pamela's."  Granted, this was a reference to the diner in Millvale.  But it came across as a bit pseudo-sexual.  Pam would bail on the show.  I'm told she likes scary shit, but this may have a been a bit out her "range."

Anyway, we hit up the big King Diamond show at Stage AE around 7pm.  The parking lots were virtually deserted.  However, the venue was totally packed.  I'd guess a crowd of about 1,800 out of 2,000.  So where did all these people come from?  Gigi and I figured it out this morning.  They were staying at the downtown hotels and had walked to the venue.  The vast majority were from out of town.  We met people from Buffalo, Toronto, New York City and even a couple latino chicks from Nicaragua.  When I asked, "Oh you from Managua?" they got really excited.  It was a rare opportunity to show off my knowledge of Central American cities.  Seriously, not a lot of people know that Tegucigalpa is the capital of neighboring Hondurus.  And judging from last night's crowd, even fewer give a rat's ass.

Speaking of rats...

These were our props from last night.  The rat (bestowed with the name Templeton of Charlotte's Web origins), the inverted cross pumpkin and the mysteriously hanging candy bucket which I'll refer to as Caspar.  How original.  If you take a close look, you can see that Caspar is filled with tea bags.  But these were not your father's ordinary Lipton tea bags.  These were "limited edition" King Diamond tea bags.  Every tea bag was enscripted with an uplifting message.

Here were the last 4 out of around a hundred.  Circumcision, Steelers Suck, I HATE YOU and EBOLA.  Other notable ones included KITTERS, Grandma's Gunt, THEM, 666 Mutha Fucka, Help I'm trapped inside a tea factory, agsaf.org, and WWKDD.  Later that night we'd find one lying on the floor near the upstairs bar.  It had one of my made up words on it --- dominipede.

Distributing the tea bags was much more difficult than we had imagined.  You'd think a demonic crowd like this one would relish the Halloween experience.  But most were either indifferent or afraid.  People just don't have any inspiration these days.  They plod along like trained seals, staring into their cell phones.  Just zero creativity and a staunch desire to maintain personal isolation at all costs.  If you ask them to think outside the box, they reply, "Yeah, I've eaten at a Jack in the Box."  Sad.  Back in the day, people had a lot more enthusiasm.  U.S. government --- you've done a great job of marginalizing our collective humanity.  Mitch McConnell seems to have taken the lead on this. 

Him and this guy are distant cousins.

I can assure you... the latter individual is a superior approximation of the human race.

When I see Mitch's debilitating mug, it makes me reflect on King Diamond's facial journey.

 

Last night's show featured a more mature, sophisticated look.

Just for the record, I've seen the King three times.  All of them back in the late 1980's.  One time at the South Hills Theater in Pittsburgh.  A horrible thrash band named Exciter opened.  And twice at Bogart's in Cincinnati.  The first show at Bogart's was my favorite.  Flotsam and Jetsam opened up and rocked it out.  Me and my buddy Ed met the King backstage after the show.  He didn't have his make-up on.  He seemed completely drained and exhausted.  He asked us if we enjoyed the show, and my verbatim response.  "Yes, Mr. Diamond.  Very much so."  He then signed a fan club letter which I lost over the years.  I'd kill to find it, but I'm virtually positive it's gone.  At the second show, during the opening act (Armored Saint), a guy was karate kicked in the sternum and hit the floor like a ton of bricks.  I'm not completely sure, but I think it happened during the song Chemical Euphoria.  His assailant just wandered off.  This happened right outside the pit, directly in front of me.  The medics came and carted him away.  When the King later came on stage, he alternated with his patented low growl/shrill pitch --- "Whether you pray to a god below... OR ONE UP ABOVE.  Let us all keep that poor man in our thoughts tonight."  This was one of the most bizarre moments of my life.  I surveyed the crowd and most people were just nodding in accordance.  Just plain bizarre.  We found out later that the kid died.  Not joking.  The Cincy news showed up after the show and I almost made it on tv for the 11 o'clock news.  But right as they cued my interview, someone shouted, "The King is ready to speak to the press."  The female reporter took off running and I was just left standing there with my dick in the wind. 

So how was the actual concert?  The show was good.  Very theatrical as expected.  

• 1. The Candle
  2. Sleepless Nights
  3. Welcome Home
  4. Never Ending Hill
  5. Let It Be Done
  5. The Puppet Master
  6. At the Graves
  7. Tea / Digging Graves / A Visit from the Dead
  8. Evil
     (Mercyful Fate cover)
  9. Come to the Sabbath
     (Mercyful Fate cover)
  10. Shapes of Black
  11. Eye of the Witch
  12. Encore:
  12. Cremation
  13. Encore 2:
  13. The Family Ghost
  14. Black Horsemen
  15. Insanity

The first few songs were killers.  To our absolute delight, during Tea we saw two tea bags get thrown on stage.  I was unfamiliar with a few of the songs.  Family Ghost was an exceptional choice for an encore.  I probably would have thrown in "Abigail."  He might not be able to hit all those high notes like he used to.  Just for the record, he's 58.

You'll be pleased to know that he didn't smash this infant on the floor.  Instead, a seemingly 17-month pregger spewed a baby from her birth canal.  Every time she went to touch it, a plume of smoke emerged.  Then, the Ohio Valley's own Tommy D. wheeled out a casket for grandma.

All in all, an amusing night.  Not sure I totally "got it."  It has become increasingly difficult to fully ingest or digest the metal scene these days.  I was hoping that the old school crowd would have helped me navigate this perilous, eerie journey.  No such luck.

It is my sincerest hope that Mitch McConnell's wife reads this post and it leaves her in some kind of catatonic state just as her husband loses his Senate Minority seat.  

I do not want this guy to become Senate majority leader.  Is that really asking too much?  

Mitch McConnell???  This guy... this is not my kinda guy.

I'd much rather the ungodly man below represent my interests.  Oddly enough, I prefer him in the daylight.

Goodfella? How about Goodbola?

Fleetwood Big Mac, Consol 5-Hour Energy

If you said, "Saf, you're an idiot.  You've never had a Big Mac?" (voice of astonishing bewilderment).

I would reply, "You may be correct.  I have a deep contempt for anything that resembles the appearance of Thousand Island dressing."  I'm assuming that's the gelatinous, vomitous-shite oozing from their sesame seed bun. 

The same thing's true for those liquified 5-hour gas station energy boosters.  I'm just not a big proponent or adherent of "trucker crack."

As I was saying, never eaten a Big Mac.  I've had most of the other stuff on the menu.  Not really, but enough to satiate my McCuriousity.  It's odd that I've never sampled their culinary flagship item.

I also don't care for pseudo-ephedrine.  We used to call them minithins.  Disgusting.  They burn your brains out while simultaneously making your dick shrink.  How on earth could this be a beneficial outcome?

End late night rant

If you made it through that discombobulated intro, you're probably more inclined to read my thoughts on the Fleetwood Mac show.  And just for the record... READ THE FAQ ,YOU FUCKING YINZER NEWBIE.  I've attended many demonic rock concerts and events of that ilk.  In fact, a crew of us are going to King Diamond at Stage AE on Sunday.  This ain't Burger King.  This is the king.

These two have more in common than you'd think.  Aside from the top hat, I can sense a little religious posturing.  Perhaps they're remote, distant relatives --- third cousins I reckon'.  Hard to believe that a heavy metal satanist would "make his bones" hailing from Scandinavia.  You wouldn't think his schtick wouldn't sell too well out Reyjkavik way.  Not sure if Stevie Nicks has ever visited  Denmark (which is generally considered agnostic/atheist territory).  Tonight, she yapped for a bit about living in San Fransisco.

Anyone remember when the South Park kids rescued a goat named "Stevie Nicks?"

It helped make sense of 9/11 and the war in Afghanistan.  Iraq... not so much.

In fact, I've seen the Big Macs a total of four times.  Hard to believe.

I'm at Gigi's house.  I don't have access to my ticket stubs.  But I'm almost positive the years are correct.

1997 - Starlake.  One of my absolute favorite concerts of all time.  I was in the back seat of Angie's blue Cavalier and she totally chunked (ran over) a monster dead deer in the middle of 22.  At the moment of impact, she screamed "Holy shit!  Hang on!"  She didn't have much of a choice.  We were briefly airborne.  Damn carcass came out of nowhere.  I'll never forget the ride up because I was complaining the whole way wondering... hey, why we didn't go Rt. 7.  Seriously, who the hell goes Rt. 2?  Unless you're hitting Drover's on the early side, I just don't see it.  Maybe takeout for the lot.  That would be a powerful statement --- a Drover's Starlake Mac Attack.  I'm also big on Dee Jays ribs - very high end Boogerstown cuisine.

2009 - Mellon (we call it Igloo).  Strong show.  Cold & windy as hell.  We met up with Nicki & Mike and had a mediocre dinner at a nearby hotel.  Neither of us were hungry.  I remember Gigi ordered some kind of potato-leek soup... just to make everyone feel warm and comfortable.  I vaguely recall drinking a Dewars and a Miller Lite.  Far less comforting.  We snagged 2 tickets for $20.  We weren't as adamant back then... regarding the Ann Landers freebie etiquette.  Ask nicely and be appreciative!  Ended up front row on the side.

2013 - Consol.  Fun one.  This time it was another total freebie.  In fact, I'm pretty sure we ended up on the + $ side.  And once again, front row side.  We likes the side of the stage.  The only thing better is "sidal nudity" (George Costanza).

2014 - Consol again.  So it was a good one.  We snagged one ticket off this guy who insisted I regale him with a "Let's Go... Mountaineers" chant.  Even though it's not part of my normal routine, I obliged him.  We scored that one around 7:45pm.  Things were getting a little dicey around 8:05pm.  After all, our last trip to Consol ended in tragedy.  So you can only imagine our collective trepidation.  But sure enough, some dude showed up and handed Gigi a freebie.  At first, we thought he was a Fleetwood Creeper*, but twas not the case.

*  I tried the mail order bride option... but to no avail.  I'll give you my extra ticket if you sit with me and let me tell you how I want to lick your shin and towards the end of the night... possibly calf or thigh.

We ended up hanging in the First Niagara Club overhang.  I would call this particular section the "men's restroom box/utility closet/behind the sheer black curtain" zone."  And guess what, we like it.  Excellent side view of everything... stage, monitor and wide screen.  Plenty of room and far less stench than a famed Woodsdale establishment.  It's odd how people reject the spacious, hidden corridors.  Me personally --- oh yeah, I prefer the madness of random weirdos and the smooshing of neighborly gock and the cramming of mysterious gunt.  But don't sweat it.  We ended up heading down to the Lower-Upper St. Clair $170 seats for the encore segment.

Sooooo.  My thoughts on the concert.  Very enjoyable.  I really liked The Chain > You Make Loving Fun opener.  Another highlight was the extended Gold Dust Woman.  But Gypsy was the big winner. 

I thought Buckingham was a little melodramatic... but then again, that's part of his charm.  Should probably consider omitting Big Love from the setlist.   Time to give it a rest.  Christie McVie is an incomprehensible bad ass.  Reminds me of Tom Araya from Slayer - another consummate professional.  She doesn't even have to try.  It just comes naturally.  All in all, I'd say it was a "heartfelt" show.

Great setlist:

1. The Chain
2. You Make Loving Fun
3. Dreams
4. Second Hand News
5. Rhiannon
6. Everywhere
7. I Know I'm Not Wrong
8. Tusk
9. Sisters of the Moon
10. Say You Love Me
11. Seven Wonders
12. Big Love
    (Lindsey solo, acoustic)
13. Landslide
14. Never Going Back Again
    (Lindsey solo, acoustic)
15. Over My Head
16. Gypsy
17. Little Lies
18. Gold Dust Woman
19. I'm So Afraid
20. Go Your Own Way
21. Encore:
21. World Turning
    (Mick drum solo)
22. Don't Stop
23. Silver Springs
24. Encore 2:
24. Songbird

Next up:  King Diamond > Steelers/Texans MNF. 

Many people ask,  "WWJD?"  I say fuck that.  I ask, "WWKDD?" 

Also... what would Jack Lambert do?  WWJLD.

These are valid questions for any aspiring politician.

Ask Tennant.  Ask Capito.  Just do it.  Election day will soon be upon us!

unusual phone scam

I was just the recipient of an atypical phone scam.  At least that's my hunch.  Mostly grounded in common sense and my fraud detection alert sensibilities.

On September 30 at 4:08 pm, I got a call from someone registered as "UNKNOWN."  Normally, I wouldn't even bother to pick up, but every so often I get unusual calls about the stampede stuff.  So I answered it.

"Hello."

There was a very brief pause which triggered me to start thinking --- for the love of Christ's scarred cock, it's a telemarketer.  But this call instantly got aggressive.

"Yo.  What's your name?"  The guy sounded very hostile and thuggish.  Not to get all judgmental, but he definitely had a black voice.

I reply, "Huh"

"You heard me!  Are you the guy that keeps calling my woman in the middle of the night?"

Me: "Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Him:  "Stop playing with me, man.  I will kill you.  You don't know who you're messin with!"

Me:  "Hey man, you need to listen to me.  I have absolutely no idea who your woman is or what this is about.  You obviously got the wrong number.  Who are you trying to talk to?"

Him:  "You're making this worse.  I'm pissed off man.  I WILL find you.  I WILL hunt your ass down!  I'm not playin!"

Me:  "Alright.  Well good luck with that."  It dawned on me again that I was in the middle of some kind of scam.  "Well, I gotta go.  Hey man, take me off your list.  Later."  Then,  I clicked the off button.

21 minutes later I get a second call from "UNKNOWN."  I thought about letting it go to voicemail, but you know how I am.  Curiosity took over, even though I surmised it was some kind of bullshit phone crap.

I answered, "Hey, if this is that same dude, you gotta believe me, I have no idea what any of this is about."

But this time it's a woman (with a very sultry voice).  "Oh, thank you for picking up.  I really need to see you.  I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time.  The last time we talked, I knew you were the one for me.  I just want to see you.

Me:  "Uhh, listen.  Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I have no idea who you are or what this is about."

Her:  "I just want to see you.  Please don't say things like that.  You mean so much to me.  You have no idea."

Me:  "Okay.  I get it.  You know, I'm not a complete idiot.  Take me off your list."

I hear her murmur, "Wait.  Wait."  For a second I thought it was that White Lion douchebag.

Just listen to the first 3 seconds.  There is no compelling reason whatsoever to watch that entire video.  If you feel differently, I hope you get beheaded by ISIS.

So I hung up again.

Here's my takeaway from this episode.  Normally, I would have played along just to confirm my suspicions, but they probably keep tabs on how long you stay on the line.  Plus, these days you never know.  It might be some kind of phone sex scam where they automatically bill you $19.99.

I imagine this was all a low-tech romance scheme.  Likely indicative of all those "cat-phishing I will marry you when I get my green card and away from this mess involving a threatening wealthy dictator." 

I think they suck you in with the threatening guy.  Get your pulse and heart rate moving (this part totally worked).  And then, after 20 minutes pass, you get the softer approach from the woman designed to pacify and relieve.  If I had stayed on the phone, I imagine she would have said something along the lines of "I just dumped him.  I need to find a real man like you who's going to treat me right.  If you can just send me the money for a bus/plane/train ticket, I'll be on my way and we can start our new life together.  You want that, don't you?  Don't you want me?"

The Human League crap's not as bad.  It is bad though.  Not as bad as the phone calls, but barely better than the White Lion sewage treatment crapola.



 

condom dog

Lately I've been reflecting on some bait and switch schemes.  Mostly intended to spark interest and awareness regarding the prospect of artificially generated stampedes.  Go figure. 

If you wish to skip the stampede preamble, scroll down a few paragraphs.

It might sound unfamiliar, but it's really simple.  Hell, stuff your average 5th grader could decipher.  This ain't rocket science.  You wouldn't try to rescind knowledge of "stop, drop and roll" or "look both ways before you cross the street."  Nobody in their right mind would try to refute "excessive consumption of alcohol could have harmful effects on a fetus."  If there's an emergency, nobody's gonna come along and tell you, "Oh, don't bother calling 911." 

We know these things because the issues are well-defined.  If this suits your fancy, here's another one.   The government has a vested interest in discouraging people from smoking cigarettes.  Because it significantly increases your chance of developing emphysema and lung cancer.  Some might equate this with intrusive government.  Perhaps.  I think it's acceptable because it falls under the heading of helpful, common sense public safety info.  Most rational people would probably agree with that stance.  With an obvious exception for the flat-earther, tea-bagger, abortion clinic bombing types.

But what happens when the government CANNOT disclose reasonable, common sense information?  The AGS easily falls into this category.  Nobody will touch it (warning people that legit venue emergency evac orders don't come from cell phones.  If you get one, it's almost certainly a hoax designed to create a stampede).  I suppose there is one other marginal possibility.  Someone might be trying to evacuate a stadium simply for their own personal amusement.  Either way, the outcome is dire.

They won't tell you because of the catch-22.  Because if you acknowledge the problem, you own it... and if it happens, you're fucked.  Your political career, your existence, your standing, your administration --- you're totally fucked.  These days, the blame game is where it's at.  Just ask Roger Goodell.  Ask the President of GM.  Ask Hillary about Benghazi (what difference does it make).  Whenever there's a tragedy, it's all about assessing liability.  Gotta blame someone.  Trust me, I get it.

Alright Saf... enough with the painfully obvious, incessant chatter.  You sound like an Instagram junkie yapping about spicy clovular nutmegish enhancements.  Egad!  The plague of religious pumpkin rolls will soon be upon us (inside joke). 

In the past, I've come up with all kinds of aberrant, yet amusing, systemic disruptions.  A few have merit.  Others are pathetic.  Among my favorites: alliterative golf ball profanity, anagram generator sign alteration and sharpie cum dumpster.  I don't think I've ever blogged about the last one.  But I'll concede in advance.  It's exceptionally low brow/South Park.  Here's the gist of it.  Whenever you see a metallic green dumpster, whip out your handy black sharpie and scribble the word "cum" on it.  So when people walk by, they'll invariably comment, "Oh look.  It's the cum dumpster.  That's nice."  I've tested it out.  Works best at outdoor rock concerts.  The success rate is in the 20% - 25% range.  Some have even stopped to take pictures.  #cumdumpsterselfie  #garbageglorification  #whitetrashwhore

This brings me to my latest concoction.  And what could possibly be my most shining achievement to date.  That is correct.  I proudly give you...

CONDOM DOG

That's right damnit!  It's a hot dog with an engorged hot dog inside.

I want people to stick them in the restrooms of upscale restaurants and hotel bathrooms.  Anywhere near the toilet, urinal, sink, Malkin hot air blower, whatever... 

Bellagio, Wynn, Phoenician, Venetian.  Pseudo-tasty mid-range dining establishments are cool too.  Outback, Cheesecake Factory, etc.  That Smokey Bones place in Robinson Township sounds spot on.

At this point it's a winner.  The only question is how to twitterize it.  #condomdog or #rubberdoggie would seem to be the best candidates.  For the esoteric... perhaps #syntheticwoof.

Picture a 4th year wedding anniversary dinner party at Red Lobster.  Austin Ray goes to take a piss.  He comes back to the table, "Woohoo!  It's gonna be a good night!  Check it.  I went to take a leak and there was a dang 'ol rubber doggie next to the soap dispenser.  Gonna get me some lovin' tonight!"

I know... right?  No losers here.  It's a win-win.

The beauty of it all --- no video cameras.  It's the only place where you can hopefully guarantee a non-surveillance environment.  Except for the Pentax upskirt weirdos.  So it becomes kind of like an anonymous lavatory mystery.  Nobody can prove shit.  And nobody's gonna voluntarily investigate or willingly touch a condom doggie.  "Dagummit, who did dat?  For Christ sake, there could be semen all up in that shit."  So it just sits there for the duration.  Well... until a janitorial representative picks up the slack.

Alright, now for the pregame.  Go to your local health department.  They give away free condoms in droves.  I already know exactly what you're thinking.  Pray-tell, if only the masses would heed their prophylactic philanthropy.

Next up.  Addressing hot dog turgidity concerns.  I suggest buying a pack of the cheapest hot dogs and hiding them deep in the freezer.  Just before you head out on the town... take out a single frozen dog and wrap that sucker up.  Then, place said condom puppy in a small ziplock bag.  Rinse, wrap, repeat.  Now you're out the door armed with a stash of condom dogs - prepped, psyched and ready to reek havoc.

Here's the best part.  As the evening progresses, the condom dog will take on a less virile, limper disposition.  This makes it even more objectionable and less susceptible to premature eradication (throwing it in the trash).

Like I said at the beginning.  The only purpose for all of this is bait and switch.  The goal of which --- every time someone sees a condom dog, they think about stampede prevention.

Idiot #1: "Dude, there was a fuckin' condom dog on the god damn toilet!"

Idiot #2: "Oh yeah... that's the West Virginia hillbilly queer who wants to prevent artificially generated stampedes.  Nobody gives a fuck about his shit, BUT MOTHER OF GOD!  He's the dude who gave us condom dog.  That's what he's known for.  And deservedly so.  He's as rich in stampede tradition as he is in spirited dog!"

Ominous shades of that Caddyshack moment.

Good stuff.

NFL Covergirl Proposition

Gigi and I were talking about social media gimmicks that could damage the credibility of the NFL.  I thought if someone high profile (like Condi Rice) were to post a video on youtube --- her cutting up her Browns jersey and requesting others do so... until Goodell's resignation or specific demands were met.  Well, that would be a big deal.

She'd never do it, but someone else might go for it.  Maybe an Ellen DeGeneres, Rosie O'Donnell or someone of that ilk.

But this morning, I saw something bordering on absolute brilliance.

Then I saw this one.

IF... and I'll concede, it's a big if.  But if someone high profile could "challenge" women who feel they've been impacted by domestic violence or have a friend or relative (which basically means every woman on the planet) who is a survivor of domestic violence...

...to go into their makeup cabinet and do some touch-ups before the big game.  Well, this would be MIND-BLOWING.  Talk about an easy systems disruption.  It would resonate in ways unimaginable.

The NFL camera people would be terrified every time they pan the crowd.  They'd be scared to death that they'll inadvertently show women with punched-out eyes or bloody lips.  Talk about shining a light on an issue.  All of a sudden, ESPN, NFL Network, NBC et al are put in a ridiculously compromised position --- the inability or fear of showing stadium fan reaction.  From here on out, all you get to see is the plays on the field.  And people thought my Trent Dilfer #8 / Trent Dildo 8" secret lift-up sign was dangerous to the NFL brand.   

Normally, most women wouldn't be receptive to portraying themselves as having been beaten.  But if they have a reasonable pretense or passionate excuse for putting on that altered game face, it completely changes the stigma and ensuing dynamic.  It's called... oh yeah, that world I like to use... super-empowerment.

It's one thing to fly a #GOODELLMUSTGO banner over a stadium.

It's another thing entirely to put "boots on the ground" and create a social media frenzy.

Note: this could easily become a popular Halloween costume this year.  Watch for it.  In the meantime, here's the REAL REASON Goodell should step down.  He's a coward for refusing to address the most obvious, asymmetric national security issue faced by our nation.

the ultimate challenge

I was giving some additional thought to the viral philanthropy concept.  You know... ALS ice bucket challenge and my idea for the motorboat breast cancer awareness challenge.   But how about one that transcends donations and profit?  OMG!  How dare you (Vince McMahon voice)!  Saf, if you remove $ from the equation, how can an act of benevolence be properly assessed and valued?

Wouldn't it be a wild experience to push the individual ethnicity/sexuality/religion/everything angle to the extreme?  Here's my idea for the next big youtube challenge.  It's a test for humanity rooted in one's faith in mankind.  And guess what?  There's no money involved whatsoever. 

I propose a video challenge with an unheralded spattering of diversity that tests "notions of trust" on an unexplored level.

Assemble your group of somewhere between 5-10 people.  Everyone must be acquaintances.  It'll probably be a work environment but not necessarily.  Now here's the catch.  Everyone should be visually different (Asian, Latino, white, mixed, black, middle Eastern, etc.).  And everyone should have a different religious identity (Catholic, atheist, agnostic, Wiccan, Rastafarian, Confucious, etc.).  Straight, lesbian, transgender, bestiality, Chrisagisexual, whatever.  Blond, bald, neck tattoo, lizard wannabe and so on.  And everyone should have different hobbies, fantasies, aspirations, etc.  Scattered agendas and political persuasions as well (Commie, Tea-Bagger, Neo-con, pro-lifer, pot smoking hippie, save the walrus and more).

The idea here is to assemble a vividly diverse, dramatically different group of friends and record a quick video on the dutiful cell phone. 

Each person gets a maximum of 10 seconds to explain "who they are" or "what makes them tick."  You can talk about your family, your education, your job, your dreams, your passion, whatever.  It's 10 seconds to explain to the world exactly what defines you as a human being.  If you're the most boring person in the world and have zilch to contribute to society... that's okay too.  Maybe you'll spend the entire 10 seconds talking about how you like to watch pro wrestling, get drunk and smoke cigarettes.

Now here's where it gets crazilla.  After the introduction phase is complete, the person who coordinated the assemblage picks a number out of a hat.

There are 3 numbers in the hat and each number represents a physical object.

#1 = Driver's license
#2 = Credit or debit card
#3 = Cell phone

At the end of the video, everyone exchanges the item du jour.  On each number is a code, that determines your exchange partner (2 gets 4, 1 gets 6, etc.).  The exchange period takes place for 24 hours or until the group reassembles the following day.  That's what makes the workplace an ideal choice.

Obviously, these items are a big deal.  Each one is specifically designed to defy the very essence of fear mongering portrayed in the news media (the prevalence of identity theft, hacking, exposure of personal data and so on).  Your personal security will be seemingly endangered and completely exposed.  Everything most people hold sacred is relinquished for a specific period of time.  That's the true essence of risk/reward.  Not the inevitability of getting cold water getting dumped on your head.  Brrrrr.  

It's evident that most people wouldn't have the stomach for this.  And that's exactly what makes it so compelling.  What if they scribble down my credit card number?  What if they scroll through my cell phone and find some ammunition to use against me.  This game involves an indescribable level of faith being placed in people who are not immediate family.      

This entire experiment could devolve into stupidity and self-implode.  However, it could become a "hot fad"  (I like that term.  Note to self: use it more often)  There would likely be conceptual spinoff groupings.  Different kinds of fisherman who use different kinds of bait.  Truck people with the Ford and the Chevy and the what not.  Various admirers of Star Trek and all that is Romulan/Klingon/Uridian.  Yeah that's right mother fucker!  The Uridians are "information dealers."  You get the drift - all kinds of angles, all hobbies, fetishes, eccentricities.  All of it.

One thing.  I think it would be important to note where everyone lives.  This gives it a necessary, provincial feel.  Maybe we'll learn that people from Bartlesville, OK are generally more trusting than people from Newark, NJ.  Tangent - they need to reveal the hometowns of guests on Maury Povich.  Seriously, how hard is it to run a tagline that reads Tallahassee, FL or wherever.  The viewing public needs to know where these barfbags hail from. 

On a semi-unrelated note, I think the "ultimate challenge" (that's what I'm calling it) would be a decent, comprehensive solution to the healing process in the aftermath of a dominipede.  Society would need to find a way to rebuild.  People wouldn't trust the government or private industry.  They'd have to rediscover their humanity.  Learning how to regroup and reconnect would be a critical component in moving forward.

Adult Channel Word Blip Game

I came up with an idea for a free "adult" party game.  I think this would be a big hit across the board --- high school kids, dorm rooms, dinner soirees, Monday night football parties, etc.  If someone wants to design the app, knock yourself out.  Just please give me credit.  I think this one has tremendous comedic promise.  And it's a great conversation starter.  Gets even the most conservative, prissy crowd to loosen up.  Although I wouldn't recommend it for a Mitch McConnell fundraiser.

Have you ever read the DirecTV program descriptions in the upper 500 channel section?  There's about 5 or 6 pay-per-view channels and a couple of them get pretty verbally raunchy.  Back when I was a curious teenager, this would have captured my attention better than the books they assigned us for summer reading.  Seriously, what sounds more enticing?  "Ethan Frome" or "Park Your Hot Rod in my Steaming Garage."

Here's how the game works.  I recommend about 10 players.  You could participate individually, but I think teams of two works better.

The titles of a dozen XXX programs and the brief 1-2 sentence descriptions are printed out and distributed.  However, in each description, one of the words is intentionally removed and replaced with a different word.  The newly inserted word must start with the same letter and have the same number of syllables.  At the beginning, the word in question, should be relatively obvious.  For example,

Title:  Ass Class III

Description:  Slutty sorority sisters eagerly await the arrival of horrific dongs.

As you may have guessed, the word "horrific" seems a little bit out of place.  Not completely though.  And that's the key.  That's what gets the discussion going after everyone scribbles down their substitute word choice.

The correct word was actually "humongous."  Note how it also starts with the letter "h" and has the identical 3 syllable pattern.  As you may have surmised, the fun begins when people share their projected word choice.  Maybe they wrote "heroic" dongs or "hunger-starved" dongs.

Everyone who chose the correct word gets a point.  Ideally, the words should become more difficult as the game progresses.

Let's try another.

Title:  Hooter Hotties

Description:  Courteous gals show off their measurements and strut their stuff.  

As you can see, this one's a little bit tougher.  The word "courteous" was supposed to be "curvacious."  But maybe you thought it was "cutey-pie."  And this is when the outlandish buffoonery commences.  Heated arguments over whether "lesbian" or "libido" is a better fit.  The greater the number of syllables, the greater the level of complexity.

Title:  Interracial Beach Bitches 

Description:  It's time to get wet.  Aquatic nymphos demand proper segregation.

Alright, now this one's a toughie.  It's specifically designed to cause friction.  You're probably wondering if it's "aquatic" or "segregation."  On the foosball table, we call this the 'ol bait and switch.  The word "aquatic" goes hand in hand with the beach.  Hmmm.  Maybe.  But the word "segregation" has racial overtones as was inferred in the title.  Hmmm.  But.  As you can see, things just got a lot more challenging. 

The correct answer: "segregation" was supposed to be "stimulation."  Damn!

The instructions are best summed up --- "There can be only one!"

That is correct. 

Even though you may stumble across better words and superior alliteration, there can be only one.

There's just something about the nerd waving that chicken wing.

Like I said, if anyone wants to design the app... feel free.  I think this one's a game-changer. 

Viral Philanthropy - BCMC (Breast Cancer Motorboat Challenge)

Since the ALS Ice Bucket challenge campaign's inception, it has raised 50+ million.  Not too shabby.  It got me to thinking.  I wonder... what might be the next big one?   I think it's fascinating how the concept of "viral philanthropy" originated in my lifetime.  Why do I think nobody cares about that particular aspect?  Why do I think everyone just wants to dump tubs of freezing water on themselves and grimace accordingly?

The prospect of other charities jumping on board this Carnival Cruise ship is inevitable.  Because it's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when.

Here's what I've taken away from the ALS challenge.

There must be a snappy cell phone video.  And the mission or task needs to be simple and quick (definitely under a minute, 30 seconds is good, 15 seconds is ideal).

Yeah, Whorewhole almost got it right.  Can't really blame him.  He died in 1987, well before the narcissistic plague of mobile devices.  That's vastly worse than the biblical plague of frogs (my personal fav of 'ol time religion/Old Testicular wrath).

The video should be fresh and somewhat titillating.  Forgive the future pun.  You'll soon see why.  There must be an element of self-promotion as well.  Look at me - look at me - watch me do this - I am popular - I am funny - and Bazinga, here's the proof.   It also requires an element of easily digestible, prank-driven humor and self-deprecation.  Ideally, there should be a tiny bit of anxiety or discomfort --- part of the "this is my personal sacrifice" routine.

Currently, there are a slew of breast cancer awareness causes and charitable foundations (Komen pink ribbon mayhem, National Institute of this, Society for Awareness of that, etc.).  The sexual stigma of naked breasts doesn't run as deep as it once did, say back in the 1980's.  All kinds of "save the ta-tas" tank tops and "I love boobies" t-shirts.  Suffice to say, the idea of "jugular eroticism" ain't what it used to be.  Unless you're a connaisseur of some weirdo pornographic niches, there's been a general societal desensitization to big titties.  Does anyone remember the weird expression... "That's tits!"  Because obviously tits are cool, so logic would invariably follow, that anything cool would include said tits.  Personally speaking, I hated that saying and still do.  It just always sounded kind of hackneyed and forced.  The people uttering it usually had a fairly predictable song and dance. 

So Saf, what's your grand idea?

Alright.  The term "motorboat" has been around for a while.

motorboat -  The act of pushing one's face in between two ample breasts, and rocking one's head side to side very rapidly while making a vigorous, lip-vibrating "brrr" sound.

I think we've all seen the Vince Vaughn bit from Wedding Crashers.

I call it the Breast Cancer Motorboat Challenge.  Basically, just copy the provisions and execution of the ALS theme --- make a donation OR take the challenge and raise awareness for the cause.  Except this one's a bit more risque because of... well... the boobs.

PROS

It gives women everywhere the opportunity to show off their cleavage for a seemingly noble cause.  Call me crazy, but last time I checked, there were about a trillion women looking for an excuse to flaunt their hooters.  Of course, this would inflame puritanical sensibilities.  That's kind of the idea because I enjoy upsetting Mormons and to a lesser extent, the Taliban.

The BCM Challenge offers up unexplored terrain in the realm of social media.  Seems rather blase compared to the current internet issues with ISIS beheadings and Edward Snowden leaks.  But just edgy enough to cause a stir.

Of course I'd be derelict if I didn't pay homage to the original motorboat.

The Motorboat Challenge definitely has the key elements.  It's expedited drama.  Definitely sucks you in and holds your attention.  Allows for silly creativity and expansion upon the original idea (large breasted males can participate, orgy-like lines of people, small-titted wonders, ass cheek motorboating, etc.).  And it even offers the idiot alpha male an easy script for hitting on hotties at the local bar.  I'm trying to help raise money for breast cancer.  Would you be interested in helping me out?

CONS

The downside --- it could get a little weird if younger kids and child predators get involved.  But then again, I'm sure there are plenty of pervs who did the ice bucket challenge.

I also came up with an idea for a "Bark at the Moon, Kick Smoking in the Butt" challenge that involves taking pictures of yourself in the underwear of the opposite sex.  You announce your resolve to quit by dropping your erogenous garment and "mooning" the audience.  Then, you howl at the moon... much like Ozzy.

If you fail to cease smoking, you're "obligated" to wear the opposite underwear/panties until you rid yourself of the evil addiction.  Because everyone in their right mind knows that cigarettes are a tool of satan.  In essence, it's like you're shouting at the devil.

Yep, Gigi and I saw them at Starlake last Sunday.  They were pretty much as bad as this 2014 clip from Grand Rapids, Michigan.  Far be it from me to dispense advice, but Motley Crud could really use that little Asian imposter dude who sings for Journey.  Vince Neil was easily the weakest link.

By the way, if you think the BCM Challenge has merit, feel free to read my book about a different philanthropic cause --- preventing human stampedes.  This one's a little more difficult because nobody is willing to acknowledge the issue even exists.  You can explain it to people, but they refuse to listen.  At least with Lou Gerhig's disease and breast cancer you can actually see the problem rather than speculate and hypothesize.  Americans aren't very good at using their imagination.  We just like to buy shit.

If I were in charge of the Michael Brown protests in Ferguson, MO...

... I'd immediately move them to downtown St. Louis, Missouri.  Specifically right outside the game day main entrances of Busch Stadium (Cardinals) and Edward Jones Stadium (Rams).

This accomplishes several things.

1.  You take advantage of the fact that you're a close suburb of a major Midwestern city with two professional sports franchises.  And you have public transportation (inexpensive city buses) that can be utilized to efficiently move large groups of people.  According to google, the drive to the baseball stadium is 19 minutes from Ferguson.  The drive to the football stadium takes 16 minutes.  Just enough time to properly rally the troops during your brief interstate excursion.

2.  It better harnesses the power of the First Amendment and uses freedom of assembly provisions to your advantage.  As the Scorpions would say (before they sucked) - Big City Nights, you keep me runnin'.

3.  The newly instituted curfews would have less of an impact.  It diminishes the state's ability to impose their brand of control.  If the police extend the curfew to other areas, it makes them appear overzealous and acting with no discretion.

4.  Whatever the message, it's heard by a larger audience.  And it enhances the possibility of large quantities of people unexpectedly JOINING the protest.  Both stadiums draw strong crowds.  Busch Stadium has a capacity of 46,000 and is general filled.  This is especially relevant because they play on weeknights.  Edward Jones Stadium maxes out around 70,000.  Adds to the perceived ethnic diversity of the protesting group as well, thus giving it greater credibility.  Now it's just not the residents of Ferguson, it's the citizens of St. Louis.

5.  It makes for even greater media exposure from unexpected sources.  If the sports announcers fail to reference the ongoing protests outside, it makes them look indifferent or biased, or at the least, unprofessional and approaching a level of borderline incompetency.

6.  If the governor chooses to call in the National Guard OR mobilize local SWAT teams... all of a sudden, they're seemingly harassing wealthier, mostly whiter individuals that just wanted to enjoy America's favorite past times.  Any routine demonstration of excessive force and militarization has a much greater possibility of being greeted with utter disdain.  When the militarized police are made to look bad (gas masks, tanks and k-9 units, etc.), you look good.

And not only that, but now the police have additional considerations which requires more planning and a fresh overall assessment.  Different crowd variables call for varied approaches, more overtime pay, strategy meetings, strained government resources, etc.  Bleed them from within. 

7.  It takes time to properly mobilize all those police units and command/control systems.  Their effectiveness is diminished if you start to ping pong between different locations.  Who's ultimately in charge of maintaining order becomes open to bureaucratic debate and law enforcement rival egos.

8.  Not only is it a mess for high profile politicians in a recognized swing state, it also pisses off some very wealthy individuals.  There's a guy worth about 4 billion that owns 1/2 of the Rams.  His name is real estate mogul Stan Kroenke and he owns a bunch of other sports teams --- (Denver Nuggets (basketball), Colorado Rapids (soccer) and Colorado Avalanche (hockey).

See!  You just superempowered yourself and made a multi-billionaire even more unhappy. 

Here's what is important.  It sets a precedent.  It puts him and other team owners on notice that their organizations could get drawn into future "ugly publicity" events, skirmishes and civil unrest.  There's even the possibility of looting or senseless automotive vandalism.  Think about it... what if a bunch of protesters go on a window smashing spree?  Who the hell is going to park their car in the nearest stadium lot?  What if there's the perception of possible violence.  Who would knowingly expose their children to this? 

9.  And in keeping with the spirit of the #8, three simple words.  BAD FOR BUSINESS.  Emotions are one thing, but if you hit 'em in the pocketbook, that's where it really hurts the most.  In that same vain, I would encourage people to make signs about police brutality and bring them INSIDE sporting venues.  If the stadiums and ballparks begin to crack down, they'll be opening themselves up to litigation.  Personally, I find an unarmed person being shot by the police 6 times more offensive than a sign that reads, "WE WANT JUSTICE."  Make that a hundred times more offensive.

10.  Some fans might start to feel actual guilt or remorse.  These people are out here protesting in the hot sun and then there's me... venturing from an air conditioned SUV into a climate controlled dome so I can drink overpriced beer and watch black people brutalize each other.  It sends a clear message --- this problem is everyone's problem, not just an isolated crisis in a poor, minority suburb.

BONUS:  After the Michael Brown shooting saga comes to a close and the media's interest dissolves, you can morph the reason for protesting into a different cause... oh, I dunno...  maybe artificially generated stampedes.

ALS Ice Bucket Challenge? How about the AGS Panic Challenge?

These ALS Ice Bucket challenges are sweeping the nation.  I'd be willing to wager that only 15% of the participants know that ALS is an acronym for Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis.  I'd bet that 50% of them probably know it as Lou Gehrig's disease.  And I'm pretty sure that 35% are just dumping buckets of ice water on their head so they can put their footage on facebook or youtube.

Here's an ice bucket challenge from a local Wheeling celebrity and his hound.  He nailed it w/ a Moonshine > Bud can > Bucket > Hulkamania.  I'll post the video if it becomes available.  Until then, this picture will have to suffice.

Next up... NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell.  More polished and predictably less interesting.

There's another viral video sensation.  It's a little more "low brow," but it's even more mesmerizing.  Yep, that is correct.  The "fuck her right in the pussy" spontaneous diatribe - it's helping to bridge the gap between obnoxious bravado and mainstream idiocy.

If that suits your fancy, here's a more substantive compilation...

As usual, my mind tends to wander toward preventing human stampedes --- specifically, raising awareness regarding obsolete venue emergency evacuation protocol.  Newsflash: many football stadiums have between 50,000 - 100,000 active cell phones.  If someone had the nefarious intent, he/she could easily infiltrate enough of these miniature supercomputers and reek absolute havoc.  Ahhh yes, the unexplored downside of NFL commissioner's superconnectivity "living room" experience.

SO.  Here's my spin on the ALS "Ice Bucket" Challenge.  I call it the AGS "Panic" Challenge.  For those of you who've been living underneath a crick rock, AGS stands for Artificially Generated Stampede.

Here are the requirements.  You'll need 3 people and 2 cell phones.  All 3 individuals must be in a large, confined crowd (stadium, ballpark, motor speedway, amphitheater, etc.).  In my mind, this scenario unfolds at an NFL stadium, but any crowded venue will do just fine.  The first person will be filming the interaction between "panic victim" and "voice of reason person." 

Panic victim can be a male, but I think it works better if it's a girl.  We'll call her Brittany.  She'll be sitting in her seat, minding her own business, scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to the action on the field.  Brittany's more concerned about the "real" world.  She's updating her status, telling people how she just bought a $10 draft beer, alerting her followers that she's the #1 Browns fan in the world, posting duckface selfie - you get the drift - we've seen it a gazillion times.  Any activity that complies with mindless self-absorption and ineffective narcissism.

She's staring into that phone like a guy at the DMV eying up a Marlboro Light as if it were a t-bone steak.  All of a sudden, Brittany gets an "emergency stadium evacuation order" from her cell.  It could be a phone call from her bestie.  It might be a message from a hacked reverse 9/11 platform.  Maybe it's the deliberate misuse of a campus text alert system or a twitter post from someone she trusts.  It could be any number of things... even a threat that rhymes with the name "Tom."

Predictably, Britanny begins to freak the fuck out.  She jumps to her feet spilling her cheesy fries and other miscellaneous transgendered fats.  She starts screaming her face off.  Shrieking her head off.  Peeling her mascara off.  I'm thinking something along these lines...

That's a slew of "god your my saviors."  For a second I thought I was at the Chrisagis Brothers Bull Riding Championship.  Brief tangent --- there really needs to be a movie called "The Passion of the Chrisagis."  Note to self: write a rough script.  Brittany could go for any number of "scared shitless" utterances.

• We're all gonna die!
• We've got to get the fuck outta here. NOW!
• OMG!  There's a bomb filled with anthrax!

Alright, now it's up to "voice of reason" person.  We'll call him Toby.  Toby immediately springs into action.  His sole mission.  Get her to instantly calm down.  At any cost whatsoever.

He could be like, "What the fuck's the matter with you?  Legit evac orders don't come from cell phones.  They use the public address system.  Any idiot knows that.  Now shut the fuck up you Britanny brisket eating bitch!"     

Or he might grab his terrible towel and muffle her face, "Listen, you stupid piece of shit!  Yer gonna spook the crowd and set off a stampede.  What are trying to do?  Incite a riot and get us all killed?"  "No competent incident commander would ever issue an emergency evacuation via individual cell phones."

Maybe Toby could dump his beer on Brittany's head (a la ALS Ice Bucket challenge) or stuff a giant glob of cotton candy in her mouth.  Then, try to engage her in a rational conversation about the dangers of herding instincts and "line of sight" theory.

Any of these responses could work, preferably ones laced with profanity and a vicious, tactical berating.  Get creative.  Explore your outer comfort zone and don't listen to this bald fucko.

So that's my idea for the AGS "Panic" Challenge.  With football season underway, now is the time.  If any douchebag security tells you to stop filming, explain to them how you're committed to REAL matters of stadium safety, a realm far beyond tangible weaponry and clear plastic bags.  How you're stepping up to the plate and addressing an asymmetric national security issue.  It's one the NFL, NCAA, federal government and everyone else is too cowardly to delve into.

Most important, post your interpretive video and make it go viral.  Working together, we can prevent the stampedes before they commence.   Mass crush asphyxiation is not an acceptable outcome.  Or even worse, being physically ejected off the upper tier of the stadium rotunda.  Probably the more comfortable way to die, but still rather unsettling.

I give humanity the AGS "Panic" Challenge.  I'm sure someone out there will thank me.