Tag Archive for captain janks howard stern

Janks Calls Stern; Gets Five Hundred Bucks

If I had a subscription to Sirius, I would have cancelled it today.

After months of denying any wrongdoing, Captain Janks (whose real name is Tom Cipriano) called into the Howard Stern Show today to answer the allegations of getting paid for appearances and then not showing up when he was contracted to.

Keep in mind that Janks was premeditating these crimes. He seemed to prey on small, unsuspecting bars in tertiary markets like Harrisburg, Mount Joy and Lancaster, in addition to fringe areas like Newark, Delaware and Morristown, New Jersey.

Dozens of bar owners have come foward alleging Janks had ripped them off by using both Howard Stern and Sirius Satellite Radios names as part of the bait.

And after Janks told Howard, Artie and Robin on the air that he has been addicted to Oxycontin, Howard called Janks “a genius” and gave him five hundred dollars.

Didja get that? Did you hear? Let me repeat it for those in the back-

After admitting that he didn’t show up to events he booked using Howard Stern’s name, Janks was seemingly rewarded by Stern when he gave him five hundred dollars.

Stern doesn’t give a shit.

It’s marketing. It’s drama. It’s schtick.

Janks won.

Howard won.

Sirius satellite radio won.

But the bar owners and club bookers that trusted Janks and collectively gave him thousands of dollars in appearance fees all lost.

And Howard Stern doesn’t give a shit.

Perhaps I was foolish to think that a millionaire radio personality would actually care that a person associated with his program and success was using his name to bilk innocent, hard working bar owners out of thousands of dollars. Fortunately, I wasn’t bilked. But I seem to care more about the heinous scam that Janks has pulled than Howard Stern does.

And for that, I’ll be able to sleep well tonight.

I’m The First Guy In Harrisburg Charged With Not Paying The Amusement Tax

Do you think I go too far in this blog?

I don’t feel that I do.

Sure, maybe I can forgo some of the ball busting, but what fun would that be?

I feel that I’m an observant person.

And I also feel that I bring to light some alternative takes on what the local commercial media might think but certainly aren’t able to say.

I’ve been pretty public and vocal about the local amusement tax fight. And the local tax collector absolutely hates that.

You see, I’m pretty sure that the local tax collector is a nice guy. He’s gotta be. But because I question the legality, fairness and value of the amusement tax, he’s got a bullseye on my back for every single show that I do or have done.

Quite some time ago, the tax collector for the city filed a citation against me for “failure to pay the amusement tax” and we both appeared in front of Judge Solomon.

The tax collector made his case and I made mine- but of course, I lost.

Found guilty of “failure to pay the amusement tax”.

I think that the fine is something around a hundred a fifty bucks.

But I still haven’t paid it.

It’s not that I’ve ignored it. It’s just that I haven’t paid it yet. (Even though every dime that I’ve owed to the city in amusement tax has been paid, I guess I still have to pay the hundred and fifty bucks.)

ANYWAY- I’ve been wanting to write a blog about “A Night in The Life of a Harrisburg Police Officer” and go on a ridealong. (Note: If the Patriot News writes a story featuring a night in the life of a Harrisburg police officer anytime in the immediate future, you’ll know they got the idea here first)

So I called the Harrisburg Police and spoke with the officer in charge of the ridealongs. He was very enthusiastic and explained the process to me. I have to give my requested ridealong times and beat (I told him I want the busiest, bloodiest, most dangerous shift- he told me 4-11 on a Wednesday).

After giving my information, he explained that they would run a background check to make sure that my ridealong doesn’t turn into a ride-to-the-clink and that he’d call me back when it cleared to set the time.

About fifteen minutes later, I got a call back.

“Michael, this is xxxxx xxxxxx with the Harrisburg police”

“Oh, hey. How’d everything turn out?”

“Well, you do have one thing on here that you’re going to have to clear up before we can take you out on a ridealong”

“Uh oh, is it a parking ticket?”

“Ha, no. No, this is something about failure to pay amusement tax?”

“Ah, the amusement tax. Yeah, I guess I forgot about that. So all I have to do is go and pay that and we’ll be all set?”

“Yup, sure thing. Just go square that away and we’ll schedule you a time for a ridealong.”

“Okay cool. Can I ask you a question?”


“How long have you been on the force?”

“Eighteen years.”

“And in eighteen years, you’ve seen a lot of stuff, eh?”

“Sure have.”

“Well let me ask you this- in your eighteen years on the force, have you ever seen someone charged with failure to pay the amusement tax?”

“Uh, nope. Never.”

So, folks, because of the amusement tax, I’m not able to report to you on exactly what it’s like to work a shift on the Harrisburg Police Force.

That is, until I pay that stinkin fine.

Okay, hang on.

Hold on.

I haven’t been writing ’cause I’m still trying to figure out this stupid transfer crap.

I swear…next time, I’m gonna leave this to the professionals.

(That could possibly be Reed’s campaign slogan)

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Dear Barack Obama Campaign Volunteers,

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.


Jersey Mike

Kooky Kouples

I just got back from a quick trip to the Camp Hill Giant and I witnessed something that I found to be interesting, odd, disturbing and quirky all at the same time.

You see, I’m not a football fan. Never have been. My attention span is mighty short (look! a bird!) and I’ve never been one for competitive sporting events so what I saw made me wonder just how deep this nations love of football really runs.

As I waded through the aisles, impulse purchasing some killer cookies, ice cream and chips, I passed no less than six couples- perhaps they were all married- but these six couples were all wearing matching Pittsburgh Steelers attire.

Matching jerseys. Matching tee shirts. Okay, some didn’t match- but nonetheless, they were both wearing some sort of Pittsburgh Steelers clothing.

I don’t get it, man. I just don’t get it.

You rarely see couples wearing their favorite band’s tee shirt to the concert.

Hardly ever do you see couples coordinating their wardrobe to watch a sitcom.

But something about those Steelers must really bring a couple together.

I just…Don’t. Get. It.