Jersey Mike

Never been much of a podcast-kind-of-guy.

Although I did always sort of enjoy AM Talk Radio (in a totally guilty-pleasure kind of way) so, once again, I’m a bit late to the party in discovering what could be the funniest G.D. podcast I’ve ever heard.

(Get it? Get the joke? I’ve only really listened to one podcast so I don’t have much to base this on.)

But I DO know funny when I hear it.

It’s called Uhh, Yeah Dude

And Gawd Dammit, Seth Romatelli and Jonathan Larroquette are the funniest pair of dudes I have  heard together since…I don’t know… Chris Farley and David Spade? Vince Vaughn and Jon Faverau? Abbott and Costello?

Maybe more like Opie and Anthony if Opie and Anthony talked about intelligent topics rather than boobies and beer.

ANYWAY-

I was in my parents’ basement preparing to come home to fair-and-honest Harrisburg  and decided to randomly download some podacsts. I wasn’t really in the mood for music but wanted something in my ears to drown the chatter of a train full of travelling holiday revelers with all of their coughing and texting and yapping and crying.

So naturally, I browsed the Comedy section of iTunes and discovered my happiest discovery in many moons.

You see, I like to laugh. But I’m far too cynical to really laugh hard much these days. Don’t get me  wrong; I do see the humor in many situations but it’s more of a dark, bleak kind of humor.

Remember two sentences ago when I was bitching about the noisy, germ-spreading, whiney people on the train whom I wanted to block myself off from by listening to a podcast?

Well, I became the noisy douchebag sitting across the aisle who was laughing uncrontrollably at these two seemingly stoner-type dudes who, essentially, sit around and bullshit together for just about an hour once a week covering current events.

But they’re more like two just really funny guys who you probably know and listening to the show is like sitting at the bar with them as they go round for round – but instead of “the bar” going “round for round”, it’s more like being in a “living room” passing a “bong” back and forth.

It’s chock full of eff bombs. (Which I love) It’s chock full of sarcasm. (Which I adore) And it’s a nice change of pace to the normal hum-drum bullshit floating around the innerwebs and talk shows these days.

(If you do decide to check it out (which you totally should), pay attention to the cadence of how they say the eff word. I lose it every time they say it. It’s not like you’d normally sling that word. The emphasis is more on the “ck” than the “fu”.

So uhh, yeah dude. Go listen.

(You’re welcome)

It doesn’t take a doctor to diagnose the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania’s recent bout with Metathesiophobia.

Oh, do you know what Metathesiophobia is?

Metathesiophobia is the fear of change.

We see it all the time around here. Why else do you think Steve Reed’s been in office for three-terms-too-many?
Metathesiophobia, of course.

Why do you think we can only purchase beer at a beer store and liquor at a liquor store? Metathesiophobia, of course.

Why do we not have a light-rail commuter service handling transportation in a two hundred mile radius? Metathesiophobia.

And why are there so many panties in so many bunches because smokers can’t smoke in bars any more?

Say it with me: Metathesiophobia!

Defined as “a persistent, abnormal, and unwarranted fear of changes”, each year this surprisingly common phobia causes countless people needless distress.

What are people so deathly afraid of? Not getting cancer from second hand smoke?

No, probably not. Considering most non-smokers I’ve interacted with are gleeful and practically mass-peeing themselves since the Clean Air Act took effect last Thursday here in Pennsylvania.

Then what are smokers afraid of? Not being able to contribute to the decreased health and quality of life of their non-smoking counterparts?

Apparently.

I smoke. About a pack a day. Of Camel Lights.

But when news of the smoking ban first hit, I, too, was excited. As someone who earns a living in the fringes of the bar industry, I welcome the fact that, while at an event three or four nights per week which takes place in a bar, I’ll no longer be able to habitually light cigarette after cigarette whenever I feel like I need something else to do with my hands while I’m working the bar.

There’s been a lot of talk about how “if the government can get away with taking THIS away from us, what will they do NEXT?” and “it’s my RIGHT to smoke wherever I choose to”.

Well how about this concept: that same government who is apparently raping freedoms like soldiers in warring countries by not allowing smokers to light up in public places like bars and restaurants is the same government who have acknowledged countless times how harmful cigarette smoking and second hand smoke can be for smokers and non-smokers alike.

AND, the hundreds of billions of dollars per year which are generated from retail and tax revenues for tobacco companies and the government, respectively, go to fund projects that make disallowing smoking in public places look like a “no running in the hallway” rule in comparison.

Talk about taking freedoms away?

Look, I’m a smoker. And I (mostly) enjoy it. But if a rule is going to be put into effect that will inherently decrease the amount of time that I abuse my body and the lungs of those around me, I’m going to embrace it.

Some bar owners are even worse than the public- brandishing the exception-to-the-rule loophole by filing for the permit to allow the bar to continue to offer a smoking section if their food sales equal less than twenty percent of their annual gross sales. (Bars and restaurants are allowed to continue offering a smoking section while the application gets processed. My source tells me that nearly a thousand exception-permits have been filed and will take MONTHS to process.)

Of course, if the shoe was on the other foot- if bars and restaurants were all non-smoking establishments to begin with and then a legislator introduced a bill which would permit establishments to allow or encourage smoking in their businesses the outcry from the non-smoking contingent would be MASSIVE.

It’s really just astounding to me, personally, that so many Pennsylvanians are up-in-arms over this smoking ban and are being incredibly undermining of the law by continuing to allow smoking in places that were certainly supposed to go smoke-free this past Thursday.

From what I hear, smoking is still allowed in virtually every bar on Second Street in Harrisburg. Which is a huge slap in the face to the people who are working to merely improve the overall quality of their experience in a bar or restaurant.

Certainly, other states have finally embraced the clean air in their workplaces- but surely not after kicking and screaming during the initial changeover.

Hopefully, this mass-freak-out will calm down soon and we can focus on the important issues again.

In the meantime, go outside and have a smoke. Either that, or stay home and smoke all you’d like.

Dear Barack Obama Campaign Volunteers,

I’m writing this letter today to let you know a couple of things.

The first thing I’d like for (all of) you to know is that I am, certainly, definitely, without-a-doubt registered to vote. Please quit stopping me in the street and arbitrary, non-political locations like parks and walking paths asking me whether or not I’m registered to vote yet. I’m going to get a new tattoo next week and am seriously considering making the location of my new tattoo my forehead and having said tattoo read “yes, I am registered to vote”.

It’s almost becoming as cumbersome as the panhandling problem within the City of Harrisburg. The main way I know what I’m about to be solicited for is that the homeless people mostly have an empty coffee cup with change jingling in it while Obama campaigners carry clipboards.

Really, when you all got together almost a year ago and wowed the country with your gusto and determination by increasing the primary voter-turnout by record percentages, we all thought it was fantastic. But that limelight has dimmed and it’s now becoming somewhat annoying.

And the second thing I’d like to ask you is to please stop calling me incessantly asking me to volunteer some time. Seriously. If I had more time to volunteer, trust me- I would have offered a few hours the first time you called. But when you called me again two days later, I wasn’t as appreciative of you thinking of me. In fact, after the first call, I thought that, should I find some free time, I’d volunteer on the campaign. But it was the third call that really sealed the deal for me. (Actually, it was the third call within ten days that nailed my decision. PHEAA doesn’t call me that often collecting their school loans. Please take a nod from them)

Barack, I promise you- you’ve got my vote.

And this letter is really meant more as a tongue-in-cheek observation of your campaign troops ruthless nature.

But please, for the good of your well-crafted image, don’t make me think of a collection agency or panhandlers each time I hear your name.

Sincerely,

Jersey Mike
xoxo

I was watching television tonight.

Man vs. Wild, to be exact.

Have you seen this program? It’s on the Discovery channel.

Basically, it’s this guy with an Australian-ish accent who gets himself dropped in these remote locations- in the wild- and basically lives like a caveman for a few days; navigating this episode through some crazy swamp prone to hurricanes, tornados, alligators, killer mosquitos and nothing but knee-deep wetlands for landscape.

So the guy’s got nothing but the clothes on his back, a pocketknife, some arbitrary tools and…a camera crew. (Maybe it’s only one camera. But nonetheless. He’s not completely alone)

ANYWAY- during the episode, the guy came to a river and didn’t want to swim across because he was afraid of the alligators. (Pfft. Alligators, shmalligators) Incidentally, there was an old lean-to built conveniently along the riverbank which had been tattered after years of exposure to storms and, um…being in the swamp.

So, the Steve Irwin/Mac Guyver hybrid took some planks and plywood from the old, convenient lean-to and built a raft. It took him three or four times trying different combinations of planks, beams and two-by-fours, but eventually he got it. And paddled his way across the river.

Which lead to this summers version of last summers’ idea for the Great Midtown Kitten Hunt-

And here is my idea- up for the taking by anyone who wants to do it because I’m not much of an outdoors kind of guy but thought this could be a pretty fun activity for the right group of people to do. Hell- I might even participate.

ANYWAY- Put together a few teams of three or four people each and the goal is to cross the Susquehanna River- with a destination of either McCormick Island…or Wormleysburg…or City Island..wherever. But the only way you may cross the river is on a raft…constructed entirely of items found in the trash within the city of Harrisburg. Sheet rock, plywood, old cellar doors, front doors, back doors, two-by-fours…whatever. And you can’t use traditional tools like hammers or nails. (Mac Irwin didn’t have a hammer- he had a big knife and used a stick to pound nails into the raft)

Oh, and of course it would have to be safe. I’m sure that Harrisburg River Rescue would volunteer to monitor the participants. ‘Cause everybody’s gotta be a team-player, right?

So there you go. Who wants to start a new Harrisburg tradition?

I was offered a ticket to the Allman Brothers/Ratdog show at the Hershey Pavilion tonight.

But I declined the invite.

You see, when I go to a concert, I like to enjoy myself.

And I’m not referring to any earth-shattering activities…just, you know…having fun at the show.

But the Gestapo in Derry Township have made it crystal clear that attendees of concerts at Hersheypark Stadium/Pavillion are being watched, monitored and patrolled and that zero extracurricular activities will be tolerated.

At a concert.

So- here’s my prediction for the headline in tomorrows Patriot News/PennLive-

At minimum- triple digit arrests in the parking lot ranging in offenses from open containers, disorderly conduct and possession of marijuana.

Guys- c’mon- these are concerts in Central freakin’ Pennsylvania. I’ve been there. I’ve seen these people. And trust me- there are not hundreds of arrestable offenses happening.

Check back later or tomorrow for the Tuesday Morning Results.

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