Philly Blunt

Freelance writer. Editor and web-video producer. Former Atlantic City Press and Philadelphia Weekly staff writer, City Paper managing editor/columnist and Dougherty for Senate campaign manager. Comments welcome here or emailed to brianhickey9 [at] hotmail. Now on: Facebook (Brian Hickey, in Philly) Twitter at Flickr at Be sure to check out Hickey on Divorce Court:

31 October 2008

Parade Day

9:45 a.m., the Krupas crew departs Fairmount

I always swore I'd never get on here drunk (and I wasn't when that start-of-the-day shot was taken). I try to stick to that. But, I'm drunk. And I'm on here. But, it's parade day. Parade Day. Amen. Amen. Pics ... and that's not me on the ground in the one. Go to for more. I just saw a sick one on the start of their gallery.
Go Cubs '09.

I caved in and donned the Phils hat, though I vowed to wear the Cubbies. Lo siento. (And, I actually know the dude in the suit.)

The view from 19th and Market.

Woman down!

30 October 2008

Be Good People

Listen, I'm all for a good riot. No doubt. Especially one with fires (FIRE!). But this dude who's car got wrecked might be a good place to start getting to work on your good-karma list. [via Philebrity]

Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Once you hear this guy was apparently a Tampa fan, this video speaks for itself:

And, burn it all!

To set the record straight ...

... I was nowhere near Robinson Luggage last night. But hot damn, some luggage-hungry Phils fans sure were, as evidenced by this Inky photo. Looks like there was a lot more craziness out there than I saw from Fairmount.

Greetings from Champadelphia

My favorite nugget from the Daily News' round-up of last night's mayhem?

A blonde on a man's shoulders obeyed the chant of the crowd and lifted her Phillies uniform and displayed a leopard-skin bra, then a brunette did the same. The two women then climbed onto a lamp post at Broad and Sansom and began kissing each other to roars of approval.

(Photo on by Elizabeth Robertson)

29 October 2008

Latest Freelance

Today's Metro column can be found here. And, check Keystone Edge tomorrow for a piece I wrote about wine in Pennsy.
Go Phils.
(And Cubs, in '09.)

Oh yeah, the Week Nine picks are up a day early since tomorrow will be about 1) celebration or 2) depression.

28 October 2008

(Belated) Weekend Reading Roundup

The disgraceful football picks can be found here.


Man, I'm still bumming about the delayed (potential) gratification, so I'll be couch-bound momentarily. What that means for you, though, is a short, short post here today. (Mind's been on baseball anyway, as you'll see from my Metro column tomorrow. And I still say the Phils in 5. Make that "pray" the Phils in 5.). Enjoy.

Vote McCain. (This message was brought to you by al Qaeda.)

"I got an idea. Let's prove how open-minded we Democrats are by pumping money into the campaign coffers of candidates who want to take a woman's right to choose away." - One Democrat.
"Brilliant!" - Another Democrat.

Steve "Scumbag/Dirtbag/Shame of University of Delaware" Schmidt gets more ink in the Times' magazine; exposed as opportunist destined for more failure. How's that diploma, Steve-O?

Sweeney pretty much summarized Valania's "satire" piece in the Inky over the weekend. And Frank Rich pretty much made a legitimate argument in the Times the same day, without trying to be cute about it.

The Bull gets some Times ink, too.

No Game Tonight.

Here's MLB's press release.


I still can't talk about last night's debacle. Read my take on it in tomorrow's Metro since it sure don't look like they'll be getting the three-inning game-turned-into-coin-flip tonight should the current weather pattern hold. Instead, take a look at this here video from (full disclosure: I do some freelance video editing there a couple days a week).
Sadly, the video got YouTubed, leaving the site out in the cold with the hundreds of thousands of hits that come along with being the No. 5 viral video in the land. Good stuff, Marnie Hall. Bad stuff, online-video ripping and CBS3's absurd questions and poor preparation.

27 October 2008

27 Outs

Trivia question: After tonight, what city will have the longest championship drought: Philadelphia or New York? (Answer appears after photo of Game Four co-hero Ryan Howard.)

A: New York.

25 October 2008

Saturday Night, alright for Fightins?

A quick look out the second-floor window out here in East Falls says overcast and drizzly, but the blonde on the Weather Channel just said it should clear out in time for the first pitch. Granted, she wasn't Kristina Abernathy V.1998, but I like what she was sayin'.
But should I? I mean, Sports Illustrated has a story this week entitled, "Letter from Philadelphia: 'Historically, We Suck'" and that can't bode to good for Games 3-7, right? Wrong. (Also in the issue is a Philly-centric Sign of the Apocalypse thanks to the people who don't think children should be allowed to see animals in a zoo. Friggin' hippies.) But I digress.

Insert Lidge here (photo from Inky)

Yes, historically we do suck. Fine. Whatever. But the quotes are good.

"Cubs fans would say, 'It's O.K., we got there, what a great year, they're still the lovable Cubs,'" says John Kruk, the first baseman for the 1993 Phillies, who lost the World Series to the Toronto Blue Jays. "In Philadelphia they're not the lovable Phillies or the lovable Eagles or the lovable Sixers. Freakin' win. We'll love you then."

I'll let you know about that one once I accept the fact that the Cubs actually lost in the NLDS.

Croce would become president and part owner of the 76ers, and in 2001 he was so confident in his team that he started planning their championship parade in January. "It was going to come down through North Philly into Center City," Croce says. "I reserved 15 flatbed trucks. I had the airport flyover zones checked. The city thought I was nuts."

Yo Pat, love you, brother. And your bar in Key West, too. But you are a little nuts.
And, finally:

At some point in the past quarter century, all the heightened expectations gave way to crushing disappointment, and Philadelphia enhanced its reputation for one three-letter word. "When they boo you in Philadelphia, it penetrates you," said Dickie Noles, a relief pitcher for the Phillies when they won the World Series in 1980. "It's different than your normal boo. It comes at you quicker because of the knowledge of the Philly fan. And then it grows into something louder than you hear anyplace else. Philly fans are not just booing the play they just saw. They are booing a whole lifetime at you."

All of which explains why, Altman, I'm disappointed that you leaned on the old Santa cliche again. May your new hometown's team go down in flames, or at least with "P"s carved into their faces, backwards.
Oh yeah: F Boston, too.

End of the Innocence

John Elway was my childhood hero (fine, teenage hero) to the point that, when I worked at the A.C. Press and Elway was at a pro-am celebrity event offshore, I took the day off and wandered around the course hoping like a lil schoolgirl to meet him, and have him sign my Super Bowl program, Elway jersey, Broncos hat and commemorative Super Bowl victory Sports Illustrated issue.
Was, however, is now the key word. Because today I sit here lost and confused, having thrown away rooting-interest years of my life for the Mighty Orange Crush in the name of a man who I have lost respect for.

Home-office decoration that may have to come down now.

Now, I'm trying to separate the personal from the professional and will continue trying to do so. It just won't be easy. Because this election, as evidenced by the "J" that was carved into my face by a McCain supporter last night, has gotten personal.
I've been rambling. Sorry. You probably want to know why Ret. SBMVP-QB Elway is on the dead-to-me list. Well, here you go:

By Michael Abramowitz
DENVER -- It's no surprise that John McCain turned to former Denver Bronco great John Elway to help him kick off his campaign swing today though Colorado. "I know a thing or two about comebacks," said Elway, famous for his fourth-quarter heroics, in introducing McCain this morning to several thousand raucous partisans in a sports arena here.
McCain is looking for any edge he can get in his battle to hold onto this crucial swing state, where polls suggest he is trailing Barack Obama by five or six points. After the speech, Elway and his former teammate John Lynch, who also spoke on behalf of McCain, boarded McCain's Straight Talk Air plane to accompany the candidate to his next stop in Colorado Springs.
In a brief interview on the tarmac, Elway said he first met McCain four or five years ago and recently told him he would help McCain any way he could in Colorado. "I like what he's about," Elway said, describing McCain as "a guy who's had the experience. He's totally an American. I believe he's going to be the guy who will change us around and get us going in the right direction."

One too many concussions, Johnny Boy (or, as I shall now call him as my father has for decades, Mr. Ed)? For shame. For shame.


When I posted yesterday about the crazy lady who carved a letter into her own face, blamed a black guy and tried to show America that anybody who'd support Obama is an evil, violence-prone nation-hating Socialist, I couldn't help but wonder about that tag posted prominently on the photo of crazy lady.
I looked it up today.
It seems the fine, fine piece-of-ass who took election matters into her own shaky hands isn't the craziest McCain supporter, after all.
Here are the titles of a couple posts on the site. (Oddly, the photo of crazy lady was gone already with zero comment. No shame. None at all. But at least the dirtbag behind the site was kind enough to offer an assassination prediction, right?)

Documents Show Obama Was Member of Quasi-Marxist Group As Illinois State Senator
Obama, Evil Personified
Obama Disses Ownership Society, Capitalism
Horrific Preview of Obama/ACORN Presidency
Louis Farrakhan Calls Obama, "The Messiah"

And my personal favorite:

Cokehead vs. Fighter Pilot

First things first: If by fighter pilot, you mean cocky, crash-prone punk who rode daddy and granddaddy's coattails to prominence and a prison camp where he was more than willing to offer military information to his captors, you have the second part right.
Second things second: We're going to need to repurpose the Japanese internment camps out West for people like this once the election's over.

24 October 2008

Maybe his name was just Brian

Oh wait, that's my name. But let me make one thing perfectly clear: I was NOT in Pittsburgh on Wednesday night. If I had been, you'd have been able to smell the coal on me. And nobody complained that I've smelt like coal anytime this week. So there.

A Pennsylvania woman told police she was attacked at an ATM in Pittsburgh by a robber who became angry when he saw a John McCain bumper sticker on her car, a spokeswoman for the Pittsburgh Police Department said Thursday. ...
She further stated the man "punched her in the back of the head, knocking her to the ground, and he continued to punch and kick her while threatening to teach her a lesson for being a McCain supporter," according to a police statement.
The woman also told police her attacker "called her a lot of names and stated that 'You are going to be a Barack supporter,' at which time she states he sat on her chest, pinning both her hands down with his knees, and scratched into her face a backward letter 'B' on the right side of her face using what she believed to be a very dull knife."

So who did this, and what's she gonna do about it?

The woman, who is from Texas, refused medical attention, Richard said, although she told the investigating officer she would see a doctor Thursday. There was no update on her condition, she said.
Richard said the woman described her alleged attacker as a dark-skinned African-American, 6 feet 4 inches tall with a medium build and short dark hair, wearing dark clothing and shiny shoes.

That description reminds me of the whole "Moe and Joe Black" scene from Do the Right Thing.

In any event, I wonder if the trollop'll vote for Obama now. Let this be a lesson, Sarah's Army. (I also wonder how bad it hurt when she started going Jack 'O Lantern all over herself in front of the mirror, all Viet-Cong-prison-camp-like.)
All of which reminds me, what's the difference between a pitbull and a chick in Pittsburgh? (A: Nothing. They're both from the canine family.)

Welcome to Happyendingadelphia

Times are tight, yo. You know this. I know this. And our city fathers know this. But what to do to help spur the economy? How about making it legal to get a happy ending massage?!
Bravo, Councilman Clarke.
Brav, flip over, o.

From today's Daily News:

A little-known city law says that every time a masseuse gives a member of the opposite sex a professional rubdown, it could have an unhappy legal ending.
City Councilman Darrell Clarke yesterday moved to lift an almost four-decades-old legal ban on men massaging women and women massaging men. ...
Clarke agreed, noting that his legislation would recognize that men and women massage each other in the city every day.

Fine, you got me: This isn't really about the human-trafficking-fueled "spas" that used to pay my bills when I worked at the city's alt-weeklies. It's about rich-people massages that might end with a "Whoops!"
Or is it?

23 October 2008

And these are in the "pro-America" parts of America

Yes, you heard correctly: "Only white Christians should be in power."

Yes, you heard correctly again: He "doesn't plan" on going after anybody with a baseball bat.

Phillies Photos

Yes, 4:20 remains the most dangerous time of the day for your children. Even in Tampa, where the meth flows free and the women, easy.

A Simple Equation

... Equals ...

... Until ...

Impressive pitching performance, yes. But if the Phils don't find a way to stop stranding runners, this is going to be a troublesome series the rest of the way. But I'm thinking they'll do just that en route to the predicted five-game triumph. The whole looming rain thing has me a bit concerned though. By concerned, I mean will they outright skip Moyer in the rotation should Game Three be a washout? And if so, is that a karmic fubar?
Then again, these are minor predicaments compared to what the Rays now face, coming to Philly needing to take one on the road in front of what'll be the loudest crowd they've ever seen in their young careers, in the coldest weather they've likely felt all magic-year long. That's why winning last night was so big. And that's why I'm begging you, Mr. Ryan Howard, to shake it off and get that big-bat mojo rollin' again. I hope that tattoo I hear you got over on 2nd Street the other night hasn't gone all Ouroboros on you.

(This week's football picks are up here. Hamels photo from the Inquirer.)

22 October 2008

Yo Mayor Nutter, the people in your old district want some answers

So, back when city officials were talking about moving the Youth Study Center from its Parkway location to ("temporarily") the old EPPI building in the hospital complex off Ridge, they were all like: Yo, nothing to worry about. Security's good. You won't even notice that we have a children's prison a few blocks from your house. You needn't worry, folks.
Well, just like they always do, city officials lied. To wit:

According to police, the two boys broke out of the former Eastern Pennsylvania Psychiatric Institute at 3200 Henry Ave. about 1 a.m. Saturday. They lowered themselves to the ground using bedsheets tied together, police said. They remained at large yesterday.
A third youth, also 17, was captured after he fell when the sheets tore. He landed on a lower roof, breaking his right leg, police said.
Police declined to give descriptions of the escaped teens.
Though police said they also could not disclose the offenses that landed the boys in the Youth Study Center, they said the escapees were not considered a danger to the public.
More than 100 juveniles from the former Youth Study Center on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway were moved to the temporary facility Oct. 4 to make room for construction of a museum to house the Barnes Foundation collection.

Let me see if I got this right: Two kids who were bad enough for juvie break out of said juvie; the cops refuse to say what they did to end up there and, better yet, what they look like!
Absurd and fantastic all at the same time.

The Phils Pick

Unfortunate photo from

As seen in today's Metro (for which I can't find a link yet this morning and I'm heading out of town for a story this afternoon, so lo siento), my gut's telling me the Phils take the World Series in five games, clinching at home with Series MVP Cole Hamels second dominating WS victory.
So, go Phils. Hope there's a parade. Et cetera.
While I'm here, though, a couple recent stories worth mentioning rapid-fire style:
I'm loving how the Inquirer has embraced gambling to the point of running columns entitled "Against the Spread." Also loving how the Krazy Kristians think that computers will work after the Rapture; how else to explain
And, although I've never been a car guy, and never will be a car guy, I gotta say, after seeing its photos in this month's Maxim, that it may damn well be time to plunk down $39K on a Dodge Challenger SRT8.

Yes. I will name it Melba Toast.

20 October 2008

Terry's Back

If you ask me, Sarah Palin was resplendent in her practical silence on SNL this weekend. WHOOOOOH!

19 October 2008

It's the little things in life...

... that make me happiest.
Like, waking up this morning, just a couple days after a neighbor went door-to-door with a polite-as-can-be note asking that everybody minds how they park to ensure our neighbors also have a spot, and noticing that the crazy dame up the street decided to leave her car smack-dab in the middle of two spots.
Or hearing that Colin Powell did the right thing.
Or being able to give up my faux-retirement grudge against B Hop after he proves, shockingly, that he still gots what it takes (courtesy of what sounded like an utter domination of Kelly Pavlik. Call it a preview of what Obama's gonna do to Johnny Boy on the Fourth of November.)

Or, getting back from DD with a 10-cup Box O' Joe and catching TiVoe'd episodes of Rock of Love Charm School (I root for Megan; what's wrong with me?) and the new Sports Soup (that closed with a clip of a jibberjabberin' Burton Reynolds)...

And the simple pleasures found their way into the Sunday funnies as well. With stories about:
A new program called Mail Goggles designed to prevent drunk emailing. [NYT]
How Philadelphia chess teacher/master Dan Heisman is teaching Howard Stern to play chess better. [NYT]
Will Ferrell's plans to make his Broadway debut in January with "You're Welcome, America. A Final Night with George W. Bush." [Inky]
A stellar idea to rejuvenate libraries. [AP via Inky]
This exchange in the Times Magazine between Barack Obama and bluegrassman Ralph Stanley:
The program opened with the validators. This is a critical part of Obama’s small-town strategy — getting respected surrogates to stand up and say that Obama is a guy you can trust.
The first person on stage was Ralph Stanley, the 81-year-old legendary bluegrass musician, who was born in nearby Stratton and makes his home in Dickenson County. He unfolded a piece of paper and read, in a shaky voice: “I want to endorse Barack Obama as the next president of the United States. Thank you very much!” The gymnasium exploded.
(When the candidate met Stanley backstage, Obama told him that he had some of Stanley’s banjo music on his iPod. Stanley nodded appreciatively, but a few minutes later he turned to a friend and asked, “What’s an iPod?”)

Come to think of it, I have a little bit of Stanley on my iPod. Now if I could only figure out what my iPod is.

Or how the reason why the Feds can't really sink their investigative teeth into the people responsible for this financial mess, as they damn well should be doing by now, is because of Dubya's War on People Who Have Different Religious Beliefs, er, I mean Terror.
Finally, for some reason, the New Yorker with Palin seein' Rus-shah from her front pooorch was delayed in the mail and arrived the same day as this week's. Which, if you subscribe I'm sure you know it's a difficult feat to get through two NYers in a weekend. But I did. And I found a cool Timbaland piece, a thinkpiece on texting's place in linguistic history, and the correction of the week, which came from the Times...

A film review on Sept. 5 about "Save Me" confused some characters and actors. It is Mark, not Chad, who is sent to the Genesis House retreat for converting gay men to heterosexuality. (Mark is played by Chad Allen; there is no character named Chad.) The hunky fellow resident is Scott (played by Robert Gant), not Ted (Stephen Lang). And it is Mark and Scott -- not "Chad and Ted" -- who partake of cigarettes and "furtive man-on-man action."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off for some furtive man-on-couch action where I'll ponder the utterly absurd quotes in today's "Growing Threat to U.S. Parks: Marijuana" story on p. A25 of the Inquirer, a newspaper which now runs ads that encourage readers to read its product with a teletype running in the background.
If I may, Mr. and Mrs. Inquirer: Why'd you stop by calling out news-radio for getting all its content from your pages? You do realize that the TV stations, weeklies and 99.9 percent of the city's blogs (yes, that's Blunt calling the kettle black, yo) and messageboards do the same, no?

Go Cubs (and Blue Hen Elena Delle Donne, a victory for Delaware but a condemnation of the pressure we put on our sporty kids).

17 October 2008

The evil and the dead-behind-the-eyes to descend upon Philly on Monday

Piping-hot-fresh from the inbox:

Road to Victory Rally with Cindy McCain & Rudy Giuliani - Philadelphia, PA
National Constitution Center
The Grand Hall Overlook
525 Arch Street
Philadelphia, PA 19106
Monday, October 20th
Doors Open: 9am

What's. Going on. Up there? She never knows, man.

Ticket Distribution Centers
Philadelphia Victory HQ
3506 Cottman Avenue
Philadelphia, PA 19149
Hours of Operation: 8:30am to 10pm

It's a feast in Hell this week!

The Ghost of Cooey hungry. Feed Ghost of Cooey.

Amid the fog of the two-day recovery from the Phils' win (probably would've been a month if the Cubbies didn't choke like the loser dogs that they are now, and will always be), I caught one of those stories that really pisses me off. As in, unrepentant murderer tries to get out of the death penalty he deserves, hippies join hands and sing Kumbaya in support, courts get gummed up again.
(Save the comments anti-cap-pun folks, we're never going to agree because I think we should reform and fix the system while you think murderers should live out their lives on our collective dimes. Nothing either of us can say will change the others opinion. Even though I'm right. As usual.)
But this one was truly special.

First, the crime, from

His attorneys argued Monday that he is a changed man who is sorry for what he did at age 19. They blamed alcohol for the crimes and ineffective counsel for landing Cooey on death row.
"Rick Cooey is no longer the man who committed those awful crimes," said his attorney, Dana Cole. "He's remorseful to the point of self-loathing."
But Cole acknowledged that Cooey refuses to accept full blame for killing the women, only saying he participated. He blames the fatal blows on his 17-year-old accomplice, Clint Dickens, who is serving life.
The women were abducted on Sept. 1, 1986 just after midnight, shortly after they had left their jobs at an Akron restaurant.
Cooey and Dickens had disabled the women's car by throwing a large rock from a highway overpass onto the vehicle as it passed underneath. The women did not know who damaged their car when Cooey and Dickens drove up, offering to help.
Their bodies were found the next day in brush behind an Akron-area shopping mall. They had been raped, beaten with a club and strangled with a shoestring. An "x" was etched onto their stomachs.

Of course he isn't the person as he was pre-crime. Something about raping and murdering two women and carving letters into their stomachs will change a man, fo'sho.

But onto the reason why Cooey and his counsel said that he shouldn't have been executed, as he ultimately was earlier this week:

Richard Cooey, who weighed 267-pounds, had argued in numerous legal challenges that his weight problem would make it difficult for prison staff to find suitable veins to deliver the deadly chemicals.

Translation: I'm too fat to be executed for two brutal murders. I'll say this much: it's original. Very original to the point that I can see Mumia chowing down on a 30-pound ham and bacon spread as we speak.
Oh wait, he's off death row, even though he killed a cop in cold blood.
What a wonderful world.

The Football Picks...

... are up. A day late. Lo siento. But nights like Wednesday only come along once every 15 years.

Go to Youtube, type in "Larry Shreds" and this is what you'll find

Ladies and gentlemen, now that I've sobered up enough from the Phils win, allow me to introduce you to the finest guitarist this side of Stevie Ray Vaughn, Mr. Lawrence Bernerd Reynolds of Baltimore, MD.

14 October 2008

Do it for Salvie

I'd be the first to say it: The Phillies need to win the World Series. If only to make people shut up about May 31, 1983. But even a World Series victory would be bittersweet, even hollow, for one man is not here for the ride, a man to whom the Phils should give a Series ring should they be lucky enough to pull it off, a man who I suspect would not be all that into his ass getting hammered by all the guys, a man named Sal Fasano.

Oh yeah, the football results are up here.

Homoerotic Hedonism in Hollywood

(Photo from sans credit unfortunately)

Gotta give it to the Phils: They're almost making me forget the pain of another Cubs failure right quick. They're resilient. They're clutch. And they're up 3-1. Now, I watched that game last night, with a couple Miller Lites of course, and upon watching Matt Stairs' mammoth homerun, saw a lot of ear-to-ear smiles in the visiting dugout. But what I didn't see is any assplay. Guess I need new glasses:

"You've been here for a month and you want to get that one big hit where you really feel like you're part of the team," Stairs said. "Not that I don't feel like I'm part of the team, but when you get that nice celebration coming in the dugout and you're getting your ass hammered by guys, there's no better feeling than to have that done."

There's no better feeling that getting your ass hammered by guys. Yep. That's what the big bear, um, I mean the big dude, said. The stash, yeah, that should've been a clue.

13 October 2008

Quick hits

You know, I've been thinking a little bit the past couple days about how the McCain/Palin/Satan triumverate has been pulling back on its rhetorical firestarting, and how I tipped thee old hat to McCain as a result. Well, I'm thinking I was wrong. Here's what they're doing: Trying to get "Good Cop" status back while turning the Obama supporters whose man has been, for all intents and purposes, threatened with bodily harm at GOP rallies into "Bad Cop." As in, Obama supporters have gotten angrier and louder as a result of the McCain scumpeople so they're firing back, but now the McCain scumpeople are putting their hands up like, "Yo, whoa, chill. We didn't do nothing wrong." Don't buy it. They're evil.
Like the people who, I'd guess, set Uzbek human-rights activist Solizhon Abdurakhmanov up for a big old fall. They took a page right out of the is-this-your-bag-o-herb? Patsy-creating handbook, meguesses.

Weekend Reading Roundup

I usually don't like pulling the Age Card unless it deals with Johnny Boy McCain, but a column in yesterday's Inquirer has forced me to do so. Namely, it surrounds TV-critic Jonathan Storm's assertion that the CW Network's lineup -- specifically Gossip Girl, 90210 and Privileged; all three of which get TiVo'ed 'round here without a tween or teen girl to blame -- is bad for the lil ladies of America.

On second though, I'm gonna start this week off with positivity in my heart, so I'm'a gonna put that Card away and say, merely, that I don't concur with Mr. Storm's angle. Those crazy kids have always been those crazy kids to the elderfolk, so let's let it go. Besides, Gossip Girl rulz.
(The weekend Inky's also featured noteworthy pieces on the rats overrunning Nantucket, labor's interests in the looming Presidential election, a prostitution-legalization push in San Fran and Russia's designs on Crimea, but I couldn't find them on a search on the site this a.m. Lo siento.)

As for the New York Times, a deep look is taken at Oliver Stone and his perfectly timed "W.," which hits theaters just in time for the Obama victory push ...

Imagine these fantastical sequences from “W.,” the Oliver Stone portrayal of President George W. Bush that opens on Friday: The president is not alone with his dogs when he chokes on a pretzel and tumbles from the sofa; Saddam Hussein is in the White House family quarters with him. Later Mr. Bush flies over Baghdad on a magic carpet as the bombs rain down. And finally Mr. Hussein returns for another cameo, this time to shout insults at the president and his father.
These depictions would hardly be a reach for a director who is fond of monkeying with history. In “JFK” Mr. Stone suggested that President John F. Kennedy was assassinated by a cabal of gay anti-Communists. In “Nixon” he made that president so epically loathsome that even his Irish setter turned on him.
But “W.” contains no airborne Bush; Mr. Stone cut the scene. And the pretzel incident has no Iraqi dictator, only the two first dogs, Barney and Spot.

Most interesting insight:
“Bush knows that Cheney is trying to play him,” Mr. Stone said. “He’s not stupid.”

AC/DC is ba ah ah ah ack. Which rules, if only because it reminds us that, oh five, six years ago it was NOT just fine for musicians to whore their music out to sell cars or granola. (Even if those who remind us of that are actually whoring themselves out to WalMart at the same time. Crazy times indeed.)

AC/DC’s commercial success flies in the face of conventional music industry wisdom. The band does not sell its music online and has never put out a greatest hits collection or allowed other musicians to sample its songs. At a time when most pop acts give fans the opportunity to have it their way by offering downloadable tracks and remixes, AC/DC gives listeners a different choice: its way or the highway.

And the Times' Frank Rich preaches to this choir again, with a solid piece about how McCain and Palin are to blame for basically whipping their lynch mob into a lynchin' frenzy.

(McCain/Palin rally; Oct. 12, 2008)

Until now. At McCain-Palin rallies, the raucous and insistent cries of “Treason!” and “Terrorist!” and “Kill him!” and “Off with his head!” as well as the uninhibited slinging of racial epithets, are actually something new in a campaign that has seen almost every conceivable twist. They are alarms. Doing nothing is not an option. ...

What makes them different, and what has pumped up the Weimar-like rage at McCain-Palin rallies, is the violent escalation in rhetoric, especially (though not exclusively) by Palin. Obama “launched his political career in the living room of a domestic terrorist.” He is “palling around with terrorists” (note the plural noun). Obama is “not a man who sees America the way you and I see America.” Wielding a wildly out-of-context Obama quote, Palin slurs him as an enemy of American troops.

By the time McCain asks the crowd “Who is the real Barack Obama?” it’s no surprise that someone cries out “Terrorist!” The rhetorical conflation of Obama with terrorism is complete. It is stoked further by the repeated invocation of Obama’s middle name by surrogates introducing McCain and Palin at these rallies. This sleight of hand at once synchronizes with the poisonous Obama-is-a-Muslim e-mail blasts and shifts the brand of terrorism from Ayers’s Vietnam-era variety to the radical Islamic threats of today. ...

This is a campaign where Palin can repeatedly declare that Alaska is “a microcosm of America” without anyone even wondering how that might be so for a state whose tiny black and Hispanic populations are each roughly one-third the national average. There are indeed so few people of color at McCain events that a black senior writer from The Tallahassee Democrat was mistakenly ejected by the Secret Service from a campaign rally in Panama City in August, even though he was standing with other reporters and showed his credentials. His only apparent infraction was to look glaringly out of place.

Also, over in Esquire, congrats to Michael Solomonov's Zahav and Jose Garces' Distrito for landing in the Best New Restaurants list, and to Chaka Fattah and Patrick Murphy for getting the nod in the mag's all-encompassing pre-election Endorsements package. (But woe is Bob Brady, for whom's race the magazine requested a write-in since Big Boy has a "hammerlock" on the "dysfunctional" Philadelphia "machine"

11 October 2008

A Special Breed'a Cat

Stupid, stupid girl

(Photo from Inquirer)

The Republican vice presidential candidate even stoked the ire of her own supporters at a pricey afternoon fund-raiser, when she said she'd be cheering New York Rangers center Scott Gomez, who is from Anchorage. She was booed.
"Ok, Ok, I'm getting used to the boos already," she said.

Psst, sunshine. Hey, it's Brian. Listen, we don't boo everything. But in this case, bold-faced ignorance did the trick. Now, get back to memorizing the "they booed Santa Claus" line that dirtbag Schmidt just handed you.

Fair and Balanced

About two hours, I wrote that John McCain is a "liar/cheater/treason-able/plane-crashin'/run-away-from-danger-living silver-spoon born punk." This assertion holds true. But I feel compelled to point out an interesting Washington Post story that the Inky picked up today. (Speaking of the Inky, that's a great AP photo from an Obama rally in West Philly today from their website.)
In any event, here's an excerpt which proves that McCain might not be as evil and backward and contemptible as the "people" who support him.

The Republican nominee drew a cascade of boos from the crowd when he called Obama "a decent person" and told an expectant father that he did not have to be scared if Obama becomes president.
"We want to fight and I want to fight, but we will be respectful," McCain said, again prompting loud boos when he declared that he admired Obama's accomplishments. "I want everyone to be respectful, and let's be sure we are. . . . That doesn't mean you have to reduce your ferocity. It's just got to be respectful."
At one point in the event, McCain grabbed back the microphone from an older woman who had begun to say that she didn't like Obama because he is an Arab.
"No, ma'am. No, ma'am," McCain said. "He's a decent, family man, a citizen who I just happen to have serious differences with on fundamental questions."
His comments came a day after an angry crowd at a Wisconsin rally shouted epithets about the Democratic nominee, pumped their fists in the air, and catcalled repeatedly when Obama's name was mentioned. Several called Obama a "socialist," and many flipped their middle finger as a press bus drove by.

Christ Almighty, has this country ever been so divided? Also, might somebody be kind enough to tell me what the "epithets about the Democratic nominee" were?

And, excuuuuse me as I try to raise my arm over my shoulder, but people still say we don't need capital punishment for stupidity and ignorance? On the plus side, t'least they'll roast on a spit in the hellfire.

Bonus find! Sarah Heath on Sports!

Brian's Saturday Wish

A bit late on this one, but it's the type of story that can't go unreferenced. So, here goes.
I don't have tickets to tonight's Flyers game. Wish I did, though. Because then I could do what I want the some-17K people in the building for the home opener against the Rangers to do:
Heckle that crazy Alaskan trollop mercilessly when she takes to the ice to drop the ceremonial first puck. Say things that would offend a dirty old man. It's all good.

This is our time to shine, to change the cliche book on Philly from booing Santa to booing a lil dame who may have a great ass in jeans (this was my primary assessement -- no pun intended -- of my three-second encounter with her at the Pub. Sexist? Perhaps. But facts is facts), but has no intelligence, it seems, in her genes.
We're good at it. Remember Irvin? Yeah, I do, because my boy Pearlman quoted me about it in his new book about the stinkin' Cowboys.

Even if most of you are from the "Great" Northeast or South Philly and would never let a friend vote for Barack Hussein Obama, it's your responsibility to humiliate her.
Let the world know that Philadelphia will not stand for this aggression.
The future of the free world actually does depend on it.

"He's still the undisciplined, spoiled brat that he was when he went in."

Those words come from John Dramesi, an Air Force lieutenant colonel who was captured and imprisoned in 'Nam.

(**UPDATE: Check the link in the comments section at the end of the post. Seems as if Dramesi has South Philly ties and the pathetic Philadelphia Republican organization has done some street lit claiming that he's the type of guy who'd vote McCain. When, in fact, he clearly isn't. The only moral compass these dirtbags have is the type that leads you to crash three or four Air Force planes.)

They're about John McCain, a man who, according to a stellar, big-picture piece about the liar/cheater/treason-able/plane-crashin'/run-away-from-danger-living silver-spoon born punk, has just about zero in common with the image he likes to portray of himself.
It's a frightening story, if only when you consider it in the context of a man who now heads rallies where his "supporters" readily chant that someone should "kill" his opponent.
On the plus side, at least we know that McCain will rat anybody out for personal gain, like he did in 'Nam when he was willing to trade defense secrets for favors unlike real heroes like Dramesi who kept their mouths shut, as per military tradition and standards.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again, this man cannot be trusted and anybody who votes for him is now, and will forever be, a moron in my book.
Here are some highlights from the Rolling Stone article which, I'm sure, Bush, I mean, McCain's chief dirtbag Steve Schmidt will tell the scumbase is merely liberal propaganda when, in fact, it's an accurate depiction of a dangerous man.

Look at me, Daddy! I made a BM by myself!
"John has made a pact with the devil," says Lincoln Chafee, the former GOP senator, who has been appalled at his one-time colleague's readiness to sacrifice principle for power. Chafee and McCain were the only Republicans to vote against the Bush tax cuts. They locked arms in opposition to drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. And they worked together in the "Gang of 14," which blocked some of Bush's worst judges from the federal bench.
"On all three — sadly, sadly, sadly — McCain has flip-flopped," Chafee says. And forget all the "Country First" sloganeering, he adds. "McCain is putting himself first. He's putting himself first in blinking neon lights."

Spoiled rich kid rides family coattails. Sound familiar?
McCain spent his formative years among the Washington elite. His father — himself deep in the throes of a daddy complex — had secured a political post as the Navy's chief liaison to the Senate, a job his son would later hold, and the McCain home on Southeast 1st Street was a high-powered pit stop in the Washington cocktail circuit. Growing up, McCain attended Episcopal High School, an all-white, all-boys boarding school across the Potomac in Virginia, where tuition today tops $40,000 a year. There, McCain behaved with all the petulance his privilege allowed, earning the nicknames "Punk" and "McNasty." Even his friends seemed to dislike him, with one recalling him as "a mean little fucker."
McCain was not only a lousy student, he had his father's taste for drink and a darkly misogynistic streak. The summer after his sophomore year, cruising with a friend near Arlington, McCain tried to pick up a pair of young women. When they laughed at him, he cursed them so vilely that he was hauled into court on a profanity charge.

Screw responsibility. Take me to the whores!
"I enjoyed the off-duty life of a Navy flier more than I enjoyed the actual flying," McCain writes. "I drove a Corvette, dated a lot, spent all my free hours at bars and beach parties." McCain chased a lot of tail. He hit the dog track. Developed a taste for poker and dice. He picked up models when he could, screwed a stripper when he couldn't.
In the air, the hard-partying McCain had a knack for stalling out his planes in midflight. He was still in training, in Texas, when he crashed his first plane into Corpus Christi Bay during a routine practice landing. The plane stalled, and McCain was knocked cold on impact. When he came to, the plane was underwater, and he had to swim to the surface to be rescued. Some might take such a near-death experience as a wake-up call: McCain took some painkillers and a nap, and then went out carousing that night.

Flying over the south of Spain one day, he decided to deviate from his flight plan. Rocketing along mere feet above the ground, his plane sliced through a power line. His self-described "daredevil clowning" plunged much of the area into a blackout.
That should have been the end of McCain's flying career. "In the Navy, if you crashed one airplane, nine times out of 10 you would lose your wings," says Butler, who, like his former classmate, was shot down and taken prisoner in North Vietnam. Spark "a small international incident" like McCain had? Any other pilot would have "found themselves as the deck officer on a destroyer someplace in a hurry," says Butler.
"But, God, he had family pull. He was directly related to the CEO — you know?"
McCain was undeterred by the crashes. Nearly a decade out of the academy, his career adrift, he decided he wanted to fly combat in Vietnam. His motivation wasn't to contain communism or put his country first. It was the only way he could think of to earn the respect of the man he calls his "distant, inscrutable patriarch." He needed to secure a command post in the Navy — and to do that, his career needed the jump-start that only a creditable war record could provide.
As he would so many times in his career, McCain pulled strings to get ahead.

If I can't pitch, I'm taking my kickball and leaving, bitches.
By now, however, McCain's flying privileges were virtually irrevocable — and he knew it. On one of his runs at McCain Field, when ground control put him in a holding pattern, the lieutenant commander once again pulled his family's rank. "Let me land," McCain demanded over his radio, "or I'll take my field and go home!"

We can't be heroes. Even just for one day.
Then, in an instant, the world around McCain erupted in flames. A six-foot-long Zuni rocket, inexplicably launched by an F-4 Phantom across the flight deck, ripped through the fuel tank of McCain's aircraft. Hundreds of gallons of fuel splashed onto the deck and came ablaze. Then: Clank. Clank. Two 1,000-pound bombs dropped from under the belly of McCain's stubby A-4, the Navy's "Tinkertoy Bomber," into the fire.
McCain, who knew more than most pilots about bailing out of a crippled aircraft, leapt forward out of the cockpit, swung himself down from the refueling probe protruding from the nose cone, rolled through the flames and ran to safety across the flight deck. Just then, one of his bombs "cooked off," blowing a crater in the deck and incinerating the sailors who had rushed past McCain with hoses and fire extinguishers. McCain was stung by tiny bits of shrapnel in his legs and chest, but the wounds weren't serious; his father would later report to friends that Johnny "came through without a scratch."
The damage to the Forrestal was far more grievous: The explosion set off a chain reaction of bombs, creating a devastating inferno that would kill 134 of the carrier's 5,000-man crew, injure 161 and threaten to sink the ship.
These are the moments that test men's mettle. Where leaders are born. Leaders like . . . Lt. Cmdr. Herb Hope, pilot of the A-4 three planes down from McCain's. Cornered by flames at the stern of the carrier, Hope hurled himself off the flight deck into a safety net and clambered into the hangar deck below, where the fire was spreading. According to an official Navy history of the fire, Hope then "gallantly took command of a firefighting team" that would help contain the conflagration and ultimately save the ship.
McCain displayed little of Hope's valor. Although he would soon regale The New York Times with tales of the heroism of the brave enlisted men who "stayed to help the pilots fight the fire," McCain took no part in dousing the flames himself. After going belowdecks and briefly helping sailors who were frantically trying to unload bombs from an elevator to the flight deck, McCain retreated to the safety of the "ready room," where off-duty pilots spent their noncombat hours talking trash and playing poker. There, McCain watched the conflagration unfold on the room's closed-circuit television — bearing distant witness to the valiant self-sacrifice of others who died trying to save the ship, pushing jets into the sea to keep their bombs from exploding on deck. ...
But when Apple and other reporters left the ship, the story took an even stranger turn: McCain left with them. As the heroic crew of the Forrestal mourned its fallen brothers and the broken ship limped toward the Philippines for repairs, McCain zipped off to Saigon for what he recalls as "some welcome R&R."

Country first? Screw that. Me first!
But the subsequent tale of McCain's mistreatment — and the transformation it is alleged to have produced — are both deeply flawed. The Code of Conduct that governed POWs was incredibly rigid; few soldiers lived up to its dictate that they "give no information . . . which might be harmful to my comrades." Under the code, POWs are bound to give only their name, rank, date of birth and service number — and to make no "statements disloyal to my country."
Soon after McCain hit the ground in Hanoi, the code went out the window. "I'll give you military information if you will take me to the hospital," he later admitted pleading with his captors. McCain now insists the offer was a bluff, designed to fool the enemy into giving him medical treatment. In fact, his wounds were attended to only after the North Vietnamese discovered that his father was a Navy admiral. What has never been disclosed is the manner in which they found out: McCain told them. According to Dramesi, one of the few POWs who remained silent under years of torture, McCain tried to justify his behavior while they were still prisoners. "I had to tell them," he insisted to Dramesi, "or I would have died in bed."
Dramesi says he has no desire to dishonor McCain's service, but he believes that celebrating the downed pilot's behavior as heroic — "he wasn't exceptional one way or the other" — has a corrosive effect on military discipline. "This business of my country before my life?" Dramesi says. "Well, he had that opportunity and failed miserably. If it really were country first, John McCain would probably be walking around without one or two arms or legs — or he'd be dead."

Um, yeah, the dude's nuts. Dangerously nuts. Seriously.
Even those in the military who celebrate McCain's patriotism and sacrifice question why his POW experience has been elevated as his top qualification to be commander in chief. "It took guts to go through that and to come out reasonably intact and able to pick up the pieces of your life and move on," says Wilkerson, Colin Powell's former chief of staff, who has known McCain since the 1980s. "It is unquestionably a demonstration of the character of the man. But I don't think that it is a special qualification for being president of the United States. In some respects, I'm not sure that's the kind of character I want sitting in the Oval Office. I'm not sure that much time in a prisoner-of-war status doesn't do something to you. Doesn't do something to you psychologically, doesn't do something to you that might make you a little more volatile, a little less apt to listen to reason, a little more inclined to be volcanic in your temperament."

But at least he's honest. Sometimes.
Then, at the end of 1974, McCain finally achieved the goal he had been working toward for years. He was installed as the commanding officer of the largest air squadron in the Navy — the Replacement Air Group based in Jacksonville, Florida — training carrier pilots. It was a post for which McCain flatly admits, "I was not qualified." By now, however, he was unembarrassed by his own nepotism. At the ceremony commemorating his long-sought ascension to command, his father looking on with pride, McCain wept openly.

He's hates these lobbyists! Guess he hates himself too.
As the Navy's top lobbyist, McCain was supposed to carry out the bidding of the secretary of the Navy. But in 1978 he went off the reservation. Vietnam was over, and the Carter administration, cutting costs, had decided against spending $2 billion to replace the aging carrier Midway. The secretary agreed with the administration's decision. Readiness would not be affected. The only reason to replace the carrier — at a cost of nearly $7 billion in today's dollars — was pork-barrel politics.
Although he now crusades against wasteful military spending, McCain had no qualms about secretly lobbying for a pork project that would pay for a dozen Bridges to Nowhere. "He did a lot of stuff behind the back of the secretary of the Navy," one lobbyist told Timberg. Working his Senate connections, McCain managed to include a replacement for the Midway in the defense authorization bill in 1978. Carter, standing firm, vetoed the entire spending bill to kill the carrier. When an attempt to override the veto fell through, however, McCain and his lobbyist friends didn't give up the fight. The following year, Congress once again approved funding for the carrier. This time, Carter — his pork-busting efforts undone by a turncoat Navy liaison — signed the bill.

My hero, Ronald Reagan, yeah, well, he died hating me. Sorry if I forgot to mention that.
McCain's friends were blindsided by the divorce. The Reagans — with whom the couple had frequently dined and even accompanied on New Year's holidays — never forgave him. By the time McCain became a self-proclaimed "foot soldier in the Reagan Revolution" two years later, he and the Gipper had little more than ideology to bind them. Nancy took Carol under her wing, giving her a job in the White House and treating McCain with a frosty formality that was evident even on the day last March when she endorsed his candidacy. "Ronnie and I always waited until everything was decided and then we endorsed," she said. "Well, obviously, this is the nominee of the party."

Inside, outside...
In sharp contrast to the way he now markets himself, McCain's campaign ads billed him as an insider — a man "who knows how Washington works." Though the Reagans no longer respected him, McCain featured pictures of himself smiling with them.

They can fend for themselves, stupid, poor soldiers.
... McCain's recent record — opposing the new GI Bill ...

My opponent, he's not qualified to lead this country in these times. Oh wait, I mean I'm not.
As chair of the Senate Banking Committee in the late 1990s, Gramm ushered in — with McCain's fervent support — a massive wave of deregulation for insurance companies and brokerage houses and banks, the aftershocks of which are just now being felt in Wall Street's catastrophic collapse. McCain, who has admitted that "the issue of economics is not something I've understood as well as I should," relies on Gramm to guide him.

The reviews are in. And "John McCain's temperament" gets two thumbs down.
Even McCain admits to an "immature and unprofessional reaction to slights" that is "little changed from the reactions to such provocations I had as a schoolboy." ...
Enraged, McCain tracked down the young Republican who had set up the podium [that made him look super-short on TV, like, how he is in person], prodding the volunteer in the chest while screaming that he was an "incompetent little shit." Jon Hinz, the director of the Arizona GOP, separated the senator from the young man, promising to get him a milk crate to stand on for his next public appearance. ...
McCain reportedly blew his top, cutting his wife down with the kind of language that had gotten him hauled into court as a high schooler: "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt." Even though the incident was witnessed by three reporters, the McCain campaign denies it took place. ...
In 1992, McCain got into a heated exchange with Sen. Chuck Grassley over the fate of missing American servicemen in Vietnam. "Are you calling me stupid?" Grassley demanded. "No, I'm calling you a fucking jerk!" yelled McCain. Sen. Bob Kerrey later told reporters that he feared McCain was "going to head-butt Grassley and drive the cartilage in his nose into his brain." The two were separated before they came to blows. ...
At least three of McCain's GOP colleagues have gone on record to say that they consider him temperamentally unsuited to be commander in chief. Smith, the former senator from New Hampshire, has said that McCain's "temper would place this country at risk in international affairs, and the world perhaps in danger. In my mind, it should disqualify him." Sen. Domenici of New Mexico has said he doesn't "want this guy anywhere near a trigger." And Sen. Thad Cochran of Mississippi weighed in that "the thought of his being president sends a cold chill down my spine. He is erratic. He is hotheaded."

Out of my way, you gimp trollop.
Several years later, during another debate over servicemen missing in action, an elderly mother of an MIA soldier rolled up to McCain in her wheelchair to speak to him about her son's case. According to witnesses, McCain grew enraged, raising his hand as if to strike her before pushing her wheelchair away.

And the quote to end all quotes.
"He's going to be Bush on steroids," says Johns, the retired brigadier general who has known McCain since their days at the National War College. "His hawkish views now are very dangerous. He puts military at the top of foreign policy rather than diplomacy, just like George Bush does. He and other neoconservatives are dedicated to converting the world to democracy and free markets, and they want to do it through the barrel of a gun."

10 October 2008

Enough already

There's been a very troubling trend on TV of late. Namely, people like that British Oliver twit on Stewart's show and others mocking the Cubs, and their fans, as if we haven't suffered enough. In any event, it reared its ugly head last night on that new SNL Thursday political jawn. But it was Murray, a diehard fan, who got the ball rolling. So it's all good.
Go Cubs.

08 October 2008

The football picks

are up, a day early onaccounta me having to head out of town on a story tomorrow. Enjoy.

Let's Go Flyers. Clap clap clapclapclap

Went down to the Spectrum yesterday for the Flyers last-ever game in the historic building, an exhibition they went on to lose 4-2 to the Phantoms, their AHL affiliate. Was a great time, though, remembering where young Brian yelled and screamed at Islanders' hothead goalie Billy Smith to the point where Smith made a threatening move in our general direction.
In any event, here are a couple photos from the event.

Fare thee well, old Spectrum.

The man, the myth, the legendary Stanley Cup winning goalie Bernie Parent signs a couple autographs outside the Spectrum.

The Cup banners hoisted to the rafters one last time.

The freelance

Here's a link to today's column in the Metro, the one in which I make the case that people voting for McCain/Palin are 1) only out to protect their financial interests, 2) racist or, what I believe to be the majority, 3) mentally deficient.

In other words, they remind me of Daniel Carver, the guy in the middle of this epic Howard Stern TV skit. (Be forewarned, some very, very offensive stuff in there.)

07 October 2008


Thanks to the Cubs, I know how Kimbo feels.

What is "Five eight-balls and to the tonsils," Alex?*

I've grown used to criticism over the years. Comes part and parcel with the territory when 1) you wrote a column that didn't shy away from unpopular stands and 2) took a political job with a non-fan-favorite candidate for three months before (post election loss) realizing that you missed writing and found outlets that enable you to still do so.
Shameless plug: Check out tomorrow's Metro. I'm back in there, complete with the ruddy, gut-emphasizing photo that's made me realize it's time to start, you know, paying attention to matters of fitness.
But a comment on the Q&A I did with former Pagan John Hall in last week's Philadelphia Weekly may have topped all other comments I've ever received. You be the judge:

Commander Truth
How much blow, or how deep a blow job, did Hickey have to give up to produce this fill in the blank shit?

Now, I'm not really sure I follow the fine Commander's logic here (you have to provide drugs and/or gay-sex favors to interview someone who would happily give an interview to promote their new book?), but bravo for the intellectual nature of the criticism. There's a place for C. Truth in a McCain commercial about Barack Hussein Obama, the Muslim terrorist, this month.

*For the record, the answer is no blow and zero blow-job depth.

** The comment was taken down today. Sad.

Tell us what you really think, kiddo

I don't know if this is photoshopped or what, but it sure seems to me like the wee lil munchkin in front of Her Eminence is saying, with her finger, what the Republicans seem to be saying to America as they promise a month of desperate dirty smears and past-its-prime ugly politics. You know, kind of like the "black baby" tactics employed by our outgoing "president" against McCain in the Palmetto State in '00.

(Hat tip to Conor Kelley for the link)

06 October 2008

Random shots off the TV of the Eagles game I wasn't at

Hell yeah, that was Mark Wahlberg repping Fishtown.

And hell yeah, that was old-friend Larry Love on TV again. Believe me when I say this: To know Larry Love is to love Larry Love.

My sentiments exactly

Go Cubs. In '09.

Clip enclave

Got me a column to write this afternoon, so the Weekend Reading Roundup will again be quick-form this week. Lo siento.
Seems as if the church I once attended regularly, but since became so disenchanted with, has yet-again proven what's so inherently wrong with its values.

In Scranton, Pa., every Catholic attending Mass this weekend will hear a special homily about the election next month: Bishop Joseph Martino has ordered every priest in the diocese to read a letter warning that voting for a supporter of abortion rights amounts to endorsing “homicide.”
“Being ‘right’ on taxes, education, health care, immigration and the economy fails to make up for the error of disregarding the value of a human life,” the bishop wrote. “It is a tragic irony that ‘pro-choice’ candidates have come to support homicide — the gravest injustice a society can tolerate — in the name of ‘social justice.’ ” ...
Conservatives argue that ending legal protections for abortion outweighs almost all other issues, while liberals contend that social programs can more effectively reduce the abortion rate than trying to overturn Supreme Court precedents. They cite a 2007 statement from the United States bishops explicitly condoning a vote for a candidate who supports abortion rights if the vote was cast for other “grave” reasons. ...
Last week, The St. Louis Post-Dispatch reported that the head of the A.F.L.-C.I.O. in Missouri had stormed out of a Mass because his priest had invoked Hitler’s name in condemning Democratic support for abortion rights.

Hey, here's a social-justice issue for you, padres: How about the decades that you tacitly endorsed the molestation and sexual-assault of children? Get off the high horse; you ceded it long ago. You've exposed yourselves as nothing more than abortion jihadists.

An interesting brief in the Inquirer forced me to mull the downright power of a laser pointer. Lenny here will probably be mulling it for a while too. In prison.

Officers arrested Lenny J. Tavarez, 19, of the 4000 block of Ormond Street, Thursday night in the 4200 block of Palmetto Street in Juniata Park. Police said Tavarez repeatedly and intentionally illuminated the green laser at the helicopter while it was in the air.
The laser beam struck the pilot in his right eye, causing him to turn controls over to the co-pilot. The pilots saw the suspect, who continued aiming the laser at the aircraft, and directed officers on the ground to make the arrest.

What a lovely commercial for the new cafe. Now, might as ask whether we'll be seeing any of our money back?

On Monday, the first year-round cafe on the Parkway opened on a triangular slice of Fairmount Park land at 16th Street near JFK Plaza's LOVE Park.
At a festive ceremony amid cascades of red balloons, state and city officials joined civic leaders to herald this slice of Paris. The Capriccio Cafe and Espresso Bar will be open daily, but it isn't merely another coffee shop.
Five years in the making, the cafe took nearly $1.3 million in state and private funds. In addition to the free-standing "Cafe Cret" building named for Paul Cret, the French architect who drew the first Parkway plans a century ago, the project involved a complete makeover for the public park and plaza around the cafe.

I hate to belabor the O.J. point, but I'm still troubled my the whole 15-to-life thing. In fact, I agree with The Juice's friend, Tom Scotto.

Simpson lawyer Yale Galanter said Saturday he felt bad for Simpson but even worse for Stewart, who got dragged along in a campaign to convict Simpson.
"This was just payback," he said of the verdict. "They were on an agenda."
Galanter and Stewart's lawyers promised to appeal, in part because unlike the predominantly black jury that decided Simpson's murder case, this panel included no African-Americans. Neither Simpson nor Stewart testified.
Simpson friend Tom Scotto, who wept in court, called it "a public lynching."
"Was this something to put someone in jail for the rest of their life for? It's a total injustice. There was no justice served in that courtroom," Scotto said.

The Mormons are coming! The Mormons are coming! (Lock up your eighth wives). Speaking of which, I know of one Mormon who arguably should be leaving after his coaching performance against the Skins yesterday.
The Inquirer's Stacey Burling (arguably the best staffer there these days) looks at what the economic meltdown does to our psyches.

Officials in Jersey are monitoring bat populations to let us know when civilization will crumble.
And now it seems that it now takes a video game to get anybody to look into shady in-custody deaths.

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