Tally O's

I’ll admit that I’m not a huge baseball fan any more.  I used to be, as a kid.  But I think I watch so much hockey now, it makes every other sport seem like it’s played in slow motion.  I always have a soft spot, though, for going to a game.

One thing I have going for me here is that I live in Baltimore.  And the big advantage here is that when your team sucks, you can always get walk-up tickets.  (And I know my friends in The Burgh have that same “benefit.”)

Now, let me clear one thing up… I’m primarily a Pittsburgh Pirates fan.  Always was, always will be.  But unlike in football, the Pirates don’t really compete with the local team.  The Pirates are in the National League, the Orioles are in the American League.  Sure they may compete in the occasional inter-league game, but it’s not really a factor.  So I feel perfectly OK with being an Orioles fan.

Unfortunately for me, both of my two favorite teams suck.  The Pirates haven’t been in the playoffs since 1992, and the Orioles since 1997.  For me, following a winning baseball team is merely an fond memory of the distant past.

It’s still fun to go see a game though.  I generally see about a half-dozen games a year.  My favorites are early in the season because A) I can still pretend they have a chance, and B) July and August in Baltimore are Africa-hot.  I do NOT like sitting out there in the stands, simmering in my own juices.

So the O’s were playing a home stand last weekend against the Texas Rangers.  Because the weather was going to be decent, I contemplated going to see the game on Sunday afternoon.  The only problem was that the Penguins were playing at 3:00.  I didn’t feel like DVRing the game and trying to cram in watching it before Amazing Race started. 

As it turned out, the Friday night game was rained out.  Saturday morning, I read in the paper that they were going to make it up as a doubleheader that day (4:30 and 7:30) and that one ticket would be good for both games.  Now it was a no-brainer.  I’d go down to Camden Yards and catch me a couple of ballgames.  It was perfect because the O's would be out of town the following week, then at home against the Yankees the weekend after, and that's always a mob scene.  If I didn't go this weekend, I wouldn't be able to go to another weekend game for at least a month.

I went online and got gouged by bought a ticket from Ticketmaster for a seat in the lower bowl, down the first base line.  Face value was $48, but then T-Master buggered me for another $12 for various fees and service charges.

Still, I had to remember that I was getting to see 2 games, so I just glued my ass shut again and took the subway down to the Yard. 

Ever notice how much electronic shit we have to bring with us now?  Front jacket breast pocket: cell phone.  Lower right jacket pocket: MP3 Player.  (I know, I should have one of those super-duper-smart phones that plays MP3, but I don’t.  Bite me.)  Lastly, my new camera was in my left jacket pocket.  (Plus my newspaper and crossword puzzle in my inner jacket pocket, for some old school time killing.)

I was looking forward to trying out the new camera because I finally got a point-and-shoot with a decent zoom.  I was getting pretty tired of my skimpy 3x zoom.

After a going to one of the street vendors, for hot dogs and a visit to Boog’s BBQ on Eutaw Street behind right field, I stopped on the right field flag court to eat and watch batting practice.  Here’s the view from the flag court:

Pretty sparse crowd for Game One.

I wish I had remembered to take a picture of my pork sandwich… it was a thing of beauty.

I continued on to head toward my seat.

The flag court in front of the B&O Warehouse, from whence I came.

Just before game time, some of the Orioles were stretching out, right behind first base.  I went down to about the fifth row and snapped a couple of shots, mostly of these guys:

L-R Brian Roberts, Cesar Izturis, Adam Jones and Vlad Guerrero.

I settled into my seat and waited for the game to start.  It was kind of chilly, and I regretted not dressing warmer.  Weather.com said it would be 58 at game time, and would go no lower than 54 by the end of the night.  So all I had on was a long sleeve T-shirt, a short sleeve T over that, and my jean jacket.  OK, and pants.  But when they announced the game time temperature, it was already down to 54 and would get cooler throughout the afternoon and evening.

Luckily, I had my own irritation to keep me warm.  There were two 8-year old boys in my vicinity… one directly behind me with his Dad, and one in the row behind him, with his Mom.  They quickly made friends with each other and then proceeded to yell every thought that entered their collective heads, for the rest of the game.

HEY LOOK, IT’S THE HOT DOG RACE!

HEY MOM, “RELISH” CAME IN SECOND!

I WANT COTTON CANDY!

HEY!  HIT IT OVER HERE!

THE LEFT FIELDER IS PLAYING TOO FAR AWAY FROM THE LINE.  HEY PIE, MOVE OVER!  MOVE OVER!  MOVE OVER!

(Of course Felix Pie, the left fielder is playing way off the line because a leftie is up and is likely to hit to right.)

 

This was the view from my seat.  And by the way, those are the 2 boys in question, there on the left.  (They moved around to various empty seats until the place filled in.)

During the game, I finally go to see what the new camera could do.  I was pleasantly surprised.

First baseman Derrick Lee.  He’s one big dude.  Was funny seeing him earlier, standing next to 5’9” Brian Roberts while they were stretching.

Designated hitter, Vlad Guerrero, one of the greatest free-swingers and bad-ball hitters ever.

I was trying out the burst function for the first time, where you could lay on the button and it would take 3 consecutive shots, but I was still having trouble capturing an actual swing.

The O’s won the first game, 5-0, which was a pleasant surprise.  But in the 2^nd game, the Rangers were all over them and quickly jumped out to an 8-1 lead.  I did manage to get the timing right to capture a swing, but there was one problem: 

The bat disappeared.  Dude looks like he’s about to go through a wormhole.  I suspect it was the lighting, coupled with a rather slow shutter speed. 

During the 2^nd game, when the Orioles’ young pitcher was getting knocked around, one of the kids started screaming, RELEASE THE PITCHER about 75,000 times.  Remember, this is all taking place between 1 and 3 feet from my left ear.

I can understand the youthful enthusiasm, but is there no consideration for the other people in the stands?  I mean, it’s fine to yell with the crowd, but to keep up all the inane screaming when nothing else is going on?  I swear I started looking for a vendor would sell me duct tape and a tube sock.

I was futilely hoping that one for parents would tell the kids to pipe down, but they were as tone-deaf as the kids.  In fact, once the second pitcher got into trouble, the one Mom told the kid he should start yelling RELEASE THE PITCHER again.

That was my cue to get the hell out of Dodge.  With the O’s getting their asses kicked, and all the cotton candy rampaging through that little shit’s head and out his mouth, and the temperature dropping, I figured I’d had about enough.  

At the foot of the Warehouse on Eutaw Street, on the way out.

Earlier I had quit buying any more $7.50 beers and figured I’d pick some up on my way home, to watch the end of the game all cozy-like.  What I’d forgotten was that by 9:00 when I left, the beer place was already closed.  I’d have to scramble if I wanted any more beer.

Oh well.  Instead, I went home and reveled in the peace and quiet.

But next time, I’m bringing duct tape.

The Darwinfish Fry Part 2

Yes, friends, despite the outcry from church officials, government flacks, concerned citizens everywhere, and pleas from MADD, SADD, GLAD and WEBADD*, we’ve decided to continue the tradition of the Darwinfish Fry, in which various Pittsburgh bloggers get together for a night of good food, good drink and rapid-fire communication.

(OK, that last part is mostly Cassie.  But then I can’t laugh… not after that last 4-line sentence.)

I will be in Pittsburgh over Memorial Day weekend for a wedding, so never being one to pass up an opportunity to rub elbows and nosh with my blogging and tweeting compadres, I am taking advantage of the Monday holiday to co-host the Darwinfish Fry Part 2.

I say “co-host” because our good friends, the Carpetbaggers, have stepped up and offered their former speakeasy as the home base from which to pitch our fits of whimsy.  As such, I designate the combined efforts of this Darwinfish2 and Carpetbaggery event to be called, The Bag’O Fish BBQ. 

If you will be or can be in the Pittsburgh area over Memorial Day and you are reading this, consider yourself invited.

This will be a “pot luck” event.  The Carpetbaggers will provide a variety of grilled meats (burgers, brats, breasts…) and some beer.  We would like YOU to bring your favorite “pass-around” dish and whatever else you would like to drink.

You may also bring members of your family if you wish, although you’re perfectly welcome to leave them at home and escape to the wilds of Lawrenceville for a “ME-Day.”  (“Me” meaning “you”, not me.)

We will start around 3:00 and run until you feel like leaving, or Mrs. Carpetbagger kicks everyone out; whichever comes first.  Remember, it is a “school day” on Tuesday.

If you would like to come, here’s what I need from you.  Click here to go directly to the page I set up for this event.  (or click the link at the top of the page.)  In the comments there, please list:

* Who is coming?

* What you are bringing?  (Please consult the comments below before deciding, so we don’t end up with 15 bowls of coleslaw.)

* What is the airspeed velocity of an un-laden swallow?

(Just kidding about the last one.)

Then email me directly at Tncave40 at hotmail dot com and I will email you the address.  (I’m trying to avoid listing the precise location of Carpetbagger’s lair on the world-wide internet web.)  But for reference, here is a high-level map to show you the general area we’re talking about, so you can properly gauge the distance.

I’m really looking forward to seeing you all, either again of for the first time.  Our last one was so much fun, I’ve been dying to do it again.

* There isn’t really a WEBADD, but there ought to be.

Scent by the Gods

One of the fringe benefits of being a famous popular occasionally amusing mildly read blogger is that I seem to have become the repository for all bacon-related stories.  As you may recall from 2 posts ago, devoted reader and FOD (Friend of D-Fish), “DG,” sent me the blurb about Denny’s new Maple Bacon Sundae (about which I am still getting feedback).

This week, FsOD Carpetbagger and Cassie have both sent me this next item.  Or should I say, “Scent” me this item?

In a long overdue development, there seems to have been a bacon-scented fragrance put on the market.  It’s called “bacōn”, (pronounced bay-CONE) and created by a company called Fargginay.

Why do they have two versions?  Is one of them “crispy?”

I love the name and pronunciation… it allows them to be artsy-fartsy AND salt-of-the-earth at the same time.

Both Bagger and Cassie sent me the link to the Huffington Post article on it, and I swear, if it would have been dated last Friday, I’d have been sure it was an April Fools joke.

It quoted the press release as such:

bacōn is a passion project mirrored after one of the 20th Century's greatest legends. The Legend of Fargginay began in 1920 when quite by accident John Fargginay, a Parisian butcher discovered the ability to dramatically elevate his customers' mood with a secret recipe blending herbs & essential oils with the essence of...bacon. As the story goes, film stars & heads of state would frequent his shop to procure the magical elixir. With a wink of the eye and the secret code, "fargginay," customers would be slipped a discreet pouch containing the formula said to trigger pleasant memories. After a massive fire on July 4, 1924, the business was lost and so was the formula...Until now.

“Farginnay.”  What a great name for a company. 

“Yinz are really making bacon cologne?”

“Farginnay!”

What’s next, a whole line of comfort food colognes?  Macaroni and cheese?  Pumpkin pie?  Home-made bread?  Primanti’s?

The Bagger went on to say that “It would be great if they had sexy, stylish ads by spokesmen such as Rosie O’Donnell, James Gandolfini and John Goodman… all urgently whispering “I smell Bay-Cone!”

I suggested the topical Kirstie Alley.  He countered with the also topical Meat Loaf, who I think would be perfect!  Meat Loaf wrapped in bacōn!  What’s not to love?

As it turns out, the company already has a commercial on YouTube:

I had been wondering why this was being marketed as a scent for guys… the commercial provides the answer.  Otherwise, I was thinking it should totally be marketed to women.  Couple spritzes of this stuff and guys will be circling like puppies after a pork chop. 

From the “Unrelated” Department

More goofy shit from Failblog.org.  This one kills me:

The Rain-X Effect

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… I’m easily amused.  It doesn’t take much to keep me entertained, which if you think about it, is a nice quality to have.  Even car maintenance can be fun.

I mentioned last year, my folks recommended Rain-X to me to help keep my car windshield clear.  And once applied, all you have to do is drive and the beaded water drops collected on your windshield will just roll right up and off the glass.  It’s cool as hell!

So this weekend while it was nice, I took the opportunity to reapply the Rain-X, as it had been over 6 months since I first put it on.  Then, as an added bonus, it rained overnight so I got to see the entertaining benefits of my weekend’s chore.

And I thought, “Wouldn’t it be cool to share this special moment?” 

You know, in case I’m not the only one entertained by moving water droplets…

So without further ado, here it the most entertaining portion of this morning’s commute:

The target speed is 35 mph.  Once you hit 35, (11 seconds in) the "action" really starts.

Fortunately for me, the first stretch outside my apartment is relatively deserted, so my path is unencumbered.  Just wish the camera focused on the windshield a little better.  Maybe next time it rains overnight, I’ll have someone else drive me around while I shoot the video.

“Hey Pinky!  Can you drive me down the street at 35 mph, then turn around and come back home?  So I can take video of the rolling water beads?”

(ducks flying coffee cup…)

Maybe this will have to do.

Bacon Update

I came across an article, today, by a reporter in Dallas that tried the infamous Denny’s Maple Bacon Sundae that I wrote about in my last post.  You can read the review here.

In a nutshell, though the wait-staff was apprehensive about even serving it, she liked it.

Lastly, WTF?

I do NOT need to know what comes out of that bottle.

Odd Bits - The Insulting Edition

Time to empty out the little bits of entertainment that have been piling up in my head… a mental high colonic, if you will.

Fun at Work

You know, sometimes I wish I had me to work with.

Here’s an email exchange I had with my friend and fellow blogger “Goldey.”  We were talking about some rather mundane details regarding sending someone from her department out to another facility to do some testing.

Bluz: Given that you answered and either/or question with “yes,” we’re presuming you mean “Yes, the issue was resolved,” as opposed to “Yes, there is still an issue?”

Goldey: Yes it was resolved.  How sad is it that I had to go to my boss and tell him he had to tell M to go out there though?  I mean seriously…

Bluz: Srsly!  I mean, GD, WTF?

Goldey: *snort*

Bluz: I don’t know what came over me right there.  Irritable Vowel Syndrome?

Sometimes I tickle the hell out of myself.

Like on Friday, we had a department lunch all together in a conference room.  While we were setting up in there, I noticed this odd table configuration.  What is the purpose of this:

Is this where you get sent to Time-Out if you’re bad during a meeting?

“I’m sorry, bluz, but that was a ridiculous idea.  Go sit in the corner until you stop wasting our time with ridiculous emails and smarten up.”

Brand Awareness

I love it when the recurring themes of this site starts to filter out into my readers’ lives.

Last week I got the following email from FDF (Friend of D-Fish) DG:

“So I’m at breakfast this morning with a friend, and the waitress starts pushing THIS.  I immediately thought of you.  You need to get yourself to Denny’s, my friend.”

What a great idea… the Maple Bacon Sundae.  I’m all over that.  If only I knew where there was a Denny’s around here.

I’ll always have a soft spot for Denny’s for no other reason than they had one right next to the Cleveland Marriott.  We’d spent many a Saturday night partying hard before a Steelers/Browns game, before crawling over to Denny’s about 2:00 AM for a Grand Slam breakfast.

I think The Onion got it right with Denny’s when they ran this:

I actually think this is a pretty good idea.

I used to like it when Denny’s had that special where you got a meal on your birthday for free.  I actually used to do that, when I was all alone and living in Cleveland.  People would ask me, “So what are you doing for your birthday??”

I’d say, in my best Droopy Dog voice, “I’m going to Denny’s for my free birthday dinner.”

I think they invented that “L-on-the-forehead” symbol just for me.

Time Duck-Walks On

I saw in the paper on Thursday that it was AC/DC guitarist Angus Young’s 56^th birthday.

Angus, the eternal schoolboy is 56.  Son of a bitch.

I know he was still rocking the schoolboy suit on their latest tour but I have to say this.  He’s looking less like Angus Young and more like Ernst and Young.

(Pausing while the accountants wipe off their monitors)

OK, he might be getting a little worn-looking, but I tell you what.  Nobody works any harder or rocks any harder than Angus Young.  The dude is a freak of nature and he’s been delivering thunderbolts of crunch for almost 40 years.

I’ve seen AC/DC 5 times and every time wasbetter than the last.  (I definitely have an AC/DC post in me in the near future, but this one isn’t it.)

Regardless of how old my boy Angus is getting, he’ll always look like this, to me:

Last Time I Saw a Mouth Like That, it Had a Hook in it

I saw this clip on Facebook and thought it would make a good closing feature.  It’s simply 100 of the greatest movie insults of all time.

Do beware, it is totally unsafe for work or in proximity of little ones.  (Unless you’d like them to become schoolyard and principal’s office legends.)  While I know that if you come here often, you must have a high tolerance for strong language, there’s some terminology used here that even I won’t broach.

A lot of my favorites are in there… They could have used the entire French Taunter scene from Holy Grail, but I’m sure there were time considerations.  Same with most of Rodney’s dialog from Caddyshack. (See the title of this section.)  But I was happy to see a lot of old favorites in there.  Not sure what’s missing.

If you can think of any, feel free to drop them in “Comments.”  I promise not to take them personally.

In Praise of William Claude Dukenfield

This one’s going to be kind of “out there,” K?

I’ve never been one for old movies.   I mean, when I’m channel flipping and I see something in black and white, unless it’s Young Frankenstein, I charge right on through until I find something with far less redeeming social value.  And more explosions.

But I have one soft spot for the old films.  And it all started with pizza.

When we lived in Columbus, my parents used to take us to this Italian place named “Franco’s.”  While as Steeler fans, the name resonated with us immediately, our appreciation for the place went beyond our ball-carrying paisan.   They used to show old black and white movie shorts on a blank wall, while you and your family munched on pizza.  And one of the recurrent stars was WC Fields.

After getting some giggles over WC Fields’ anti-social, alcoholic exploits, I looked into some more of his work and became a big fan.

There were a lot of qualities that got me hooked.  I was drawn to the rascally attitude… his sticking it to the conventions of the times.  He drank too much, gambled, cheated at cards, hustled billiard games, told tall tales and had no tolerance for children.

I wanted to grow up to be him.

But the thing I loved the best was simply the cadence of his speech and love for funny-sounding words.

Later, when I was in college, a buddy gave me a record album he had in his family.  It was a series of vocal snippets from various WC Fields movies.  It was a goldmine of material for me.  I used it to drop sound bytes in between songs, during my air shifts on our college radio station.  All the cool radio stations of the time were using drop-ins.  There was a lot of movie lines, cartoons, maybe some Three Stooges.  But no one was using WC Fields. 

At a very early age, it helped mold me into the ne’er-do-well raconteur I am today.

These were some of my favorites.  (Now you have to imagine them in the Fields voice and cadence.)

Bar customer: Squonk Mulligan tells me you buried your wife several years ago.

WCF: Ahh, yes, I had to… She died.

(That was on  the clip above.)  A perfectly obvious observation, and so devoid of sentimentality.  This one ties in as well:

Guy: Mr. Wiffin tells me your wife has passed away…

WCF: Yes, the poor dear was killed in Upper Sandusky… run over by a pie wagon…

***

Woman: Do you like children?

WCF: I do if they’re properly cooked.

That was one of his most famous lines and his signature attitude.  With “most” children, that is…

Girl: Why didn’t you ever marry?

WCF: I was in love with a beautiful blond once, dear.  She drove me to drink.  That’s the one thing I’m indebted to her for.

That’s perhaps my favorite line of all.  I wish I could find the YouTube clip of it.

***

WCF: Sleep!  The most beautiful experience in life… except drink!

***

Lady: Don’t be so free with your hands!

WCF: Listen honey… I was only trying to guess your weight… You take things too seriously…

***

His love of drink was legendary.  Sometimes the jokes were obvious.  This one was somewhat more subtle:

WCF: During one my treks (he pronounced it “treeks”) through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew.  We had to live on nothing but food and water… for several days…

The beauty of that exchange was that this was the 1940s… $20 was an obscene amount of money to blow in a bar at the time.

To get past the movie censors, he had to invent his own brand of profanity:

“Godfrey Daniels!”

“Sufferin’ sciatica…”

He was also a master juggler and billiards trick-shot artist.  These skills fed into his gift for physical comedy.

I don’t really have a point to this post… I was remembering some old lines and felt like talking about it.  If you’ve found any of this even remotely interesting, there is a wealth of WC Fields movie clips on YouTube.  If not… I’ll be back with a new post on Sunday.

The Continuing Adventures of Sitcom Kelly

You remember my friend Sitcom Kelly, right?  She’s the one who wants to put a Silence of the Lambs pit in her basement for the purpose of capturing and keeping Pittsburgh Penguins defenseman Kris Letang (and possibly former Steelers kicker Matt Bahr).

This weekend, she made a pilgrimage to Pittsburgh to see her first game at the new Consol Energy Center.  The Pens were playing the Florida Panthers Sunday afternoon.  This afforded my friend a new opportunity to stalk the object of her twisted desires.

She had good seats too, down by the goal that the Pens defended twice.

This gave her the opportunity to get this picture of the Pens goalie, Marc-Andre Fleury.

As she emailed me some of her pictures, which included several of Letang’s back, I wondered why she never got one of his face.  Or maybe she did, but was keeping it to herself.  I can see her tacking the photos up right now, onto her stalker photo-board, along with the rest of the surveillance shots.

I suggested that maybe the reason she didn’t get any face shots was that maybe he, like other prey, got spooked by her presence.

Kris Letang senses a dangerous presence nearby.

Later he seeks advice from other members of the pack.

With his sense of danger confirmed, he spends the rest of the game at the other side of the ice.

Cover blown, Sitcom Kelly considered other means of camouflage.

Iceburgh proved to be scrappier than she expected so the plan was abandoned.  Jean-Claude Van Damme made it seem so much easier in "Sudden Death."

Sensing that his adversary’s spirit was broken, Letang sent over a delegation of elders to “reason” with Sitcom Kelly.

Elder Kovalev, flanked by Elders Kunitz and Michalek, plead for leniency, so that Kris can finish the game in peace.

All was well in the end, as James Neal iced the game in an overtime shootout.

“Uh, winning…”

So with Letang off the market for the time being, Sitcom Kelly mentioned that she had another iron in the fire.  We emailed about it this morning:

Kelly: I think I told you how I was going back on (dating site) Plenty of Fish?  This guy emailed me the other day.  He works for some radio station covering the Nationals and Capitals games.  HE GETS FREE TICKETS!!  Am I really that shallow that I’ll date this guy for his free hockey tickets?  If he gets playoff tickets… Ohhhh baby!  Ka-ching!

Bluz: Does he know you’re a Pens fan?  That might chill the relationship off.  “Sitcom Kelly” would totally date for hockey tickets.  It would be funny if she left her “benefactor” so that she could stalk Letang between periods.

Kelly: He does not know I’m a Pens fan.  At what point should I tell him?  I guess he’d find out when I’m at the game all prim and proper until the Pens come out onto the ice and I rip my top off and underneath is my Pens hockey gear.  Kinda like Superman.

Bluz:  That would be hilarious.  It would also ensure that it was your last date.

Later I asked where they went around town.  Among other places, she mentioned they went to Primanti’s.  I thought that was weird because she’s a vegetarian.

Bluz:  Hey, what YOU get at Primanti’s?  A sandwich with nothing on it but fries and slaw?  (Primanti’s is famous for jamming the fries and coleslaw right into the sandwich.)

Kelly: Fish sandwich.  My brother-in-law was all excited because he’d seen this place (and the woman at the counter) on one of the food travel shows.  I got a t-shirt… not exactly why.  I’m sure I’ll never wear it.

Bluz:  Why wouldn’t you wear it?  It’s not like the dum-dums here would know it’s a Pittsburgh shirt.  Or did you buy an ugly one?

Kelly:  I don’t really wear t-shirts.

Figures.  Here’s a chick that doesn't like cheese but still orders cheese sticks, quesadillas, nachos and cheese pizza.  Why wouldn’t she buy a t-shirt when she doesn’t wear t-shirts?

And you wonder why we want to do a sitcom about her…

Liner Note: I was going to post a couple of her pictures with the thought bubbles as a part of a larger “Odd Bits” post, but next thing I knew, a whole post jumped out.  Sometimes “inspiration” plays hell with “planning.”  Also, I should note that all photos were taken by Sitcom Kelly and were used with her kind permission.  (Unless you notice later that some are missing, in which case permission has been revoked.)

Power Millions Mega Ball

Friday’s Mega Millions multi-state lottery jackpot was up to $312 million, which reminded me of an old joke:

A guy comes home from work and his wife says, “Pack your bags, baby, I just hit the lottery!

The guy says, “Should I pack for the beach or the ski slopes?”

The wife says, “I don’t care, just get the fuck out!”

I almost never play the lottery.  I say “almost,” because I do play on occasions like this, when the jackpot gets so ridiculous.  I know I’m basically pissing money down the drain, but it buys me a night or two to dream big.

So it got me thinking, what exactly would I do if I hit a major lottery like this one?  And you know what happens when I start thinking…

Blog post.

I’ve written before about my buddy Rik and his plan for a lottery jackpot, which involves buddy John and me quitting our jobs to become his posse.  First, he’d set up his kids.  Then our jobs would be to arrange trips, secure sports tickets and turn down requests for money.  Oh, and I’d write his biography: “Memoirs of a Feral Bachelor.”

All due respect to my buddy, I think I’d have to go a different way.

I would have one overwhelming priority: that I would never have to work again as long as I live.  There are so many people, whether lottery winner or professional athletes, that come into money and consequently piss it all away in no time at all.  That would NOT be me.

Right off the bat, I quit my job, by taking a scan of my winning ticket pressed up against my bare butt cheek and emailing it in.  No need for an exit interview.  Then I head straight for the doctor's office and get a vasectomy.  With my new windfall, I should be able to find someone that will do it under general anesthesia.

Once I can walk again, the first order of business would be to hire a Money Guy (as opposed to Buddy Guy, who I might hire to play my birthday party) to run some numbers and determine the prudent course of action.  Right off, there’s the lump sum vs. installment payments.

In this case with a $312 mil jackpot, that’s either 26 annual payments of 12 million, or a lump sum payment of $198 million.  You have to figure, taxes take at least half of that, so that leaves $6 mil per year for 26 years or one payment of $99 mil.  I’ve always heard it’s better to take the lump sum, invest it, and live off the interest.  Still, I’d like to see numbers each way and see what would work best with the way I intended to spend.

Even by the most conservative estimate of say, taking the $99 mil and putting it in a savings account earning .05%, that would give me $495,000 per year to live on.  Of course, that is assuming I never touch the entire principle. 

I figure right off the top, there’s some money that’s going to be spent.  I buy a house here, and possible a modest one back in Toledo.  (For the record, for what I’d spend on a small house in Baltimore, I could buy a fucking mansion out in the farmland outside Toledo, where I grew up.)

Also, I’d pay off my parents’ house, set up my nephews real well, and maybe invest in an art gallery for my sister to run.  I’d pay off Pinky’s student loans and get her a decent car.  (Nothing gaudy… maybe a Prius or something.  I’m not going to be buying ridiculous rides for anyone, myself included.)

Hmm.  This is already eating into my interest-generating nest egg.  Maybe the $6 mil a year is the way to go.  Money wouldn’t stop coming in until I was 75.

Anyway, once the “givens” have been given, it’s time to formulate The Budget with the Money Guy.  (And one further note there… the Money Guy will NOT be given power of attorney or any direct access to the cash.  Too many people have been screwed out of their money by people they trusted to manage it.  Not this cowboy.  I’m signing off on everything.)  But The Budget will be sacrosanct.  No spending unless it’s within my monthly (or weekly) limit.  We are not pissing this money away.

That said, these are some things I’m going to want to do:

* Rik and John and I are going to have some FUN…  perhaps not job-quitting fun, but periods where we get to go play and not have to worry about jack.  And I’ll want to help out their kids too.  Of course this is where it gets tricky… determining appropriate sums of money to gift.  Almost any amount you give can be seen as cheap. 

“What, all that money and he only gives me a lousy $1000/$5000/$10,000?”  Sometimes, no matter what you give people, it’s never seen as enough.  And besides that, what do you do when you think one kid might put it toward a college education, while another kid will blow it on spa treatments?  Perhaps a Supermarket gift card?

Or maybe I just do something like give a check for $1000 on every birthday.  That way there’s not as great of a chance for them to blow it on stupid shit all at once.

I’d buy Sitcom Kelly a dream date with Kris Letang.  What she did with him after that would be up to her and the likelihood of luring him into her Pit-laden basement.

* I’d definitely sponsor a couple family/friend gatherings a year, probably involving football games, either in Pittsburgh (early in the season) or more temperate places (Miami, San Diego, Tampa) for late-season games.  I thought about getting season tickets, but I think it would be better just to cherry pick the special events to attend.  I’d charter a big bus or something, and fly in the out of towners.

I’d also have to consider getting the NFL Sunday Ticket for my new 80” HDTV, but then I’d have to give up going to the sports bar when the games aren’t on TV locally. 

You know what would be cool?  Picking up the tab for every Steeler fan in a Baltimore sports bar.

* I would increase my political activity considerably.  Planned Parenthood, NARAL, the DSCC would all benefit greatly.  But there would have to be some ground rules. 

Rule 1: No bugging me.  I’ll make one donation a year, then I don’t want to hear squat from you.

Rule 2: If you pass my name onto any other organization, you’ll never see another dime.

Rule 3: You may contact me about special meetings where famous people are going to show up.  After all, I’ll still be a fame groupie.

Certain other Pittsburgh-based blogger-run events would benefit as well.

I would pay big ugly biker dudes $100 apiece to stand in front of those Westboro Baptist Church idiots when they're attention-whoring picketing at military funerals.  And I’d double it for anyone that bent over and gave them the old “red-eye.”  Or even better, get some of the queeniest Freddie Mercury clones straight from a San Francisco Pride Parade, to counter-demonstrate.  That ought to cause them an embolism or two.

I’d buy ads to run on Fox “News”, saying, “I can’t believe you’re buying this shit.  They’re lying to you and you’re too stupid to realize it!”

See, now that’s pretty much it.  I have fairly modest tastes.  Oh, I may get a better computer and furnish the house(s) nicely, but you won’t see any of my places looking like those on “MTV Cribs” or anything.  Heck, I may not even need a new PC.  With this kind of dough, I won’t need Internet porn; I can just have girls come over to the house and pull up their shirts in person.

I’d probably have to hire someone as a personal assistant though… Like someone to research stuff (hotels, ticket prices) take my car to the shop, make phone calls, answer phone calls… Lord knows I’m not going to want to have to deal with all the hands coming out.

I bet it would be really hard, though, to wake up on any random morning and NOT spend any money.  I mean, I do it all the time now, but knowing you have a pile of “stupid” money lying around?  The temptation would be great.  It would take a lot of self-discipline, but The Budget would have to trump all.  That’s the only way to make sure the gravy train never runs out of track.

But what a great idea for a blog… to chronicle the experiences of a new millionaire!  I’d have to do it anonymously, of course, or else I’d just be begging to be assaulted by hackers and slackers.  Of course, I meant to keep this blog anonymous, but you know how that worked out.

So, Friday I spent $5 on Mega Millions tickets.  And as I sit here this morning, I’m just as po’ as I was on Friday.  There was one winner of the $319 million jackpot, and it tweren’t me.  The winning ticket was sold at a variety store in Albany NY.

Hey, I wonder if it was the Ex.  Is it too late to file for alimony?

“Shit.”

Leftover Meat Loaf

It occurred to me that with my last post, I lost a good chance to post an actual clip of The Loaf in action.  I suppose I could append something onto it now, but that horse is pretty much out of the barn by now.  So hear I am with this quickie post.

The issue now is to decide which clip to post.  You’d think it would be a no brainer and I’d post clips of either “Bat Out of Hell”, or “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad,” because I spent considerable time talking about both.  But chances are, you already know Two Out of Three, so there’s little point in using that one.  Bat Out of Hell would be great, but the thing is, that song comes in at over 9 minutes.  I’m not going to ask you to hang around here that long.

So I decided to go a different way and post a song from Meat’s second album.

Way back in the early 80s, I read that Meat Loaf was going to be on one of those late-night music shows, the Midnight Special, I think.  I was just getting into the Bat Out of Hell album, so I made sure to stay up late to watch.  Remember, at this time, there was no MTV or other music videos available.  I had no sense of how this guy performed.

So I stayed up, all set to see me some Paradise, or some Bat, or some Two out of Three… But what I got was a series of music videos from his forthcoming album, Dead Ringer.  What a let down… I wasn’t in the mood to see songs I’d never heard before.

This is one of the albums I had him sign in Boston.

Let me get this straight though… I love that album now.  I just didn’t know it at the time. Little did I know that this was practically an all-star album.  Featured players were Davey Johnstone (from Elton John’s band) on guitar, Roy Bittan and Max Weinberg (from the E-Street Band) on piano and drums, Liberty DeVito (Billy Joel’s band) also on drums, Nicky Hopkins (Beatles side-man) on piano, and one more special guest vocalist.

One video really jumped out at me.  It was the title track, “Dead Ringer for Love.”  It appeared to be an attempt to recreate the vibe from “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights.”

It was staged as a big bar-room duet, jock-boy versus leather chick, but the twist was that the female singer was Cher.  Freakin’ Cher! 

Now, this was back when Cher was still pretty cool in a renegade sort of way, and not the surgically-enhanced, carp-mouthed mutant she’s become in recent years.  It would be another 6 years before she’d star in Moonstruck.

The two of them traded verses like they were having a ball, making perfect foils for each other.

Welcome back to 1981

Couple of quick notes on the video:

* I wonder how much time that Cher and The Loaf actually spent on the same stage.  There are only a couple shots where they’re both in the same picture.  The rest of the time, the shots are framed so that they could have been singing to a posse of stagehands and grips.

* How young do Meat’s backup singers look?  It looks like he’s a 30-year old ex-lineman fronting the JV Football team.  No way their voices would be low enough to pull off the "Dead ringer" refrain at the end.  And Cher’s chick party looks like it’s filled with extras from the street scenes of “Pretty Woman.”

* Loved the flash-change from roadie jerseys to frilly tuxedo shirt.  And he’s got the red hanky going!  He doesn’t use that so much any more, but at the time, he always had the red hanky to wave.  When he and Cher walk out of the place at the end, I swore he was going to wipe off the bar with it.

* I forgot how cheesy those early music videos could be.  Like I said, this was pre-MTV, and even those in the first years of MTV were pretty primitive.  I suppose these were filmed for European audiences, because there was no other outlet for them here.

* I never liked the “rock n roll and brew” refrain.  Who calls it ‘brew’ on a regular basis?  But I guess it’s easier to rhyme stuff with ‘brew’ than ‘beer’ or ‘ale’ or ‘Budweiser.’

OK, I tried to make this short, and I suppose it still qualifies, by my standards, anyway.  Really, I thought it was going to go a paragraph or two, tops.

I’m not exactly a Dead Ringer for brevity…