To preface this blog, I feel it necessary to remind you that I don't know shit about shit. But, of course, if you're reading my drivel, you probably know that already. Not to worry -- the following political analysis will be highly speculative.
Much ado has been made over the results of the Democratic party's Iowa caucus and New Hampshire primary. Theories explaining first why Barack Obama won in Iowa and now why Hillary Clinton won in New Hampshire have been so plentiful that it would be meaningless for me to even link to a few of them. I am nothing if not a slave to popular fads (plus, I'm right and everyone else is wrong...) so, here's my theory.
The results of Iowa and New Hampshire tell us nothing other than that people pretty much like Obama and Clinton equally and (thankfully) that they like Edwards a little less, at least in the Northeast. I am convinced and a little bit afraid that the winning margins in Iowa and New Hampshire can be explained by examining the voting processes of the two contests and thinking about race and racism.
In New Hampshire, the primary contest is an election, a process which is fairly familiar to most of us. The Iowa caucus, on the other hand, is a funny thing. People who are about to vote gather publicly in groups of their families and neighbors, friends and enemies, and then through a process involving debate and attempts and verbal persuasion, they more or less cast their votes. I believe that this would aid a Black candidate in Iowa and hurt him or her in New Hampshire.
As I believe pointed out by Malcolm Gladwell in one of his books, people tend to represent themselves in public as making choices less dependent on race as they actually do. He used the example of people on online dating sites declaring that the race of their date matters very little, but then almost always choosing to "approach" people of their own race. In Iowa -- voting in public, I believe people (basically everyone voting in both of these contests were white) were less likely to NOT vote for Obama because of his race, even if at the last second they felt unsure or uneasy because of it. Conversely, I am afraid that in New Hampshire, in the privacy of a curtained voting booth, people may have allowed their racial prejudices or simply their doubts about the racism of the rest of the country sway their votes from Obama. This would explain why polls (a public statement of your voting plan) would have shown Obama roughly 15% ahead of where he ended up placing in the actual, (and private on an individual level,) vote.
Since most of the rest of the contests are primaries and not caucuses, I still think Obama will have an uphill battle to climb (how's that for a mixed metaphor?) I know that Clinton is a woman (this Clinton) and that there are still tons of people who don't think a woman should be president, but I would argue that these people are less likely to lie to pollsters about this feeling. Either way, I am glad that the results in New Hampshire and Iowa have been so inconclusive. Extending the race for another month and another 20 states at least will get us more experienced candidate, chosen by a more educated and representative group of voters.
After I wrote this, I came across this article which explains my gut theory in possibly more eloquent languege. Apparently this isn't a new idea, and even has a name, the "Bradley/Wilder/Dinkins effect."
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Sunday, January 06, 2008
The (First?) Ten Commandments of Ezism
1. Don't watch the weather.
2. Don't buy water.
3. Don't trade in currency.
4. Don't ever write ten commandments without an elastic clause like "Don't do stuff you shouldn't do."
5. Don't do stuff you shouldn't do.
6. Deodorant and electric razors are scams and should be treated as such.
7. Shake your ass, but watch yourself.
8.
9. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, two, the dentist, three the psychiatrist.
10. Sleep well.
They're really more like guidelines...
2. Don't buy water.
3. Don't trade in currency.
4. Don't ever write ten commandments without an elastic clause like "Don't do stuff you shouldn't do."
5. Don't do stuff you shouldn't do.
6. Deodorant and electric razors are scams and should be treated as such.
7. Shake your ass, but watch yourself.
8.
9. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, two, the dentist, three the psychiatrist.
10. Sleep well.
They're really more like guidelines...
Monday, December 10, 2007
Dogfighting, Hypocrisy, and Why the NFL Won't be Around in 10 Years
Football star Michael Vick was sentenced to 23 months in a federal jail today for his "involvement in a dogfighting ring." This is an unfair conviction because of who Michael Vick is. Now, I could be saying that because Vick is a celebrity, he and his co-defendants were treated in an unfairly harsh way to send a message, but I'm not. I could be saying that because Vick grew up in Virginia, he should be judged by the prevailing morals of the southern culture, which seems to be fairly permissive of dogfighting at least according to Whoopi Goldberg (go to around the 1:45 mark of the video,) but, I'm not. I could argue that Vick has been targeted unfairly because of his status as a popular Black figure in Atlanta -- an argument that was explored in "A History of Mistrust" by Wright Thompson, but I'm not. It is hypocritical to sentence Michael Vick to almost two years of jail time for acting as an owner, financier, and profiteer involved in dogfighting while lauding, supporting, and idolizing him as a participant in very similar activities throughout his life as a football player.
The first time I saw Vick play football was on September 23, 1999 when he was a red-shirt freshman (otherwise known as a Sophomore who didn't play football his first year at college... I tried to claim that I was one in my second year at Rutgers, but it didn't get me very far...) at Virginia Tech University. This was the third game of the season. Vick had missed the second game after being carried off the field in his first game. Running towards the end zone, Vick had shown such speed, agility, courage, fearlessness, elusiveness, cleverness, and yes, aggression that he refused to stop until an opponent managed to flip Vick completely. Vick still made it into the end zone for a touchdown, but he sprained his ankle when he hit the ground. If you never saw Vick play, check out this video (musical accompaniment by Ludacris, flips around 0:44 mark.)
Why is this relevant? The same qualities that made Vick successful in football are the ones that I imagine would make a pit-bull successful in dogfighting. Yes, you say, but dogfighting is a horrible, violent, and often fatal activity, where the dogs get no reward out of it, whereas football is a sport whose participants are rewarded beyond reason.
I'm not sure this is true. Dogfighting is clearly violent, and football players who do not train well enough to make the NFL are not taken out and shot or electrocuted and killed (although encouraging college kids to concentrate solely on football and to ignore academics and then to set them loose with no support after they don't make the NFL is a violation itself, but that's another story...) but, football itself is no less violent then dogfighting.
In the past year, a Buffalo Bill, Kevin Everett suffered a life threatening spinal cord injury during a game. More and more information has been coming out about the effects of the repeated concussions that many football players have had and continue to have. Retired players have suffered from severe depression, early onset dementia and Alzheimer's (and we're talking about mid-forties early,) leading to suicide and death. Even if your brain manages to make it through, your body most likely will not. Bo Jackson a legendary athlete had his career ended when he tore his hip. The great quarterback John Elway recently had knee replacement surgery at the age of 47. Linemen in the NFL (and increasingly at younger ages) are usually 300+ pounds, which puts an incredible toll on their bodies.
Quite simply, playing football at a high enough level for a long enough time will kill you. But football stars like Michael Vick are fawned over by fans, paid millions of dollars by team owners. Yet Vick is thrown into jail for lavishing the same twisted funding and adoration (remember, little to no mercy is shown to football players who don't perform either, see Ryan Leaf, see the NFL's bizarre refusal to fairly compensate retired players, see team's abilities to cut a player at any time) onto fighting dogs.
I actually saw Vick in an airport once. He was reading a magazine, waiting for a flight to Atlanta when a man approached him:
"Hey, are you Mike Vick? I love playing you in Madden!"
I think Mike Vick just got played in real life.
The first time I saw Vick play football was on September 23, 1999 when he was a red-shirt freshman (otherwise known as a Sophomore who didn't play football his first year at college... I tried to claim that I was one in my second year at Rutgers, but it didn't get me very far...) at Virginia Tech University. This was the third game of the season. Vick had missed the second game after being carried off the field in his first game. Running towards the end zone, Vick had shown such speed, agility, courage, fearlessness, elusiveness, cleverness, and yes, aggression that he refused to stop until an opponent managed to flip Vick completely. Vick still made it into the end zone for a touchdown, but he sprained his ankle when he hit the ground. If you never saw Vick play, check out this video (musical accompaniment by Ludacris, flips around 0:44 mark.)
Why is this relevant? The same qualities that made Vick successful in football are the ones that I imagine would make a pit-bull successful in dogfighting. Yes, you say, but dogfighting is a horrible, violent, and often fatal activity, where the dogs get no reward out of it, whereas football is a sport whose participants are rewarded beyond reason.
I'm not sure this is true. Dogfighting is clearly violent, and football players who do not train well enough to make the NFL are not taken out and shot or electrocuted and killed (although encouraging college kids to concentrate solely on football and to ignore academics and then to set them loose with no support after they don't make the NFL is a violation itself, but that's another story...) but, football itself is no less violent then dogfighting.
In the past year, a Buffalo Bill, Kevin Everett suffered a life threatening spinal cord injury during a game. More and more information has been coming out about the effects of the repeated concussions that many football players have had and continue to have. Retired players have suffered from severe depression, early onset dementia and Alzheimer's (and we're talking about mid-forties early,) leading to suicide and death. Even if your brain manages to make it through, your body most likely will not. Bo Jackson a legendary athlete had his career ended when he tore his hip. The great quarterback John Elway recently had knee replacement surgery at the age of 47. Linemen in the NFL (and increasingly at younger ages) are usually 300+ pounds, which puts an incredible toll on their bodies.
Quite simply, playing football at a high enough level for a long enough time will kill you. But football stars like Michael Vick are fawned over by fans, paid millions of dollars by team owners. Yet Vick is thrown into jail for lavishing the same twisted funding and adoration (remember, little to no mercy is shown to football players who don't perform either, see Ryan Leaf, see the NFL's bizarre refusal to fairly compensate retired players, see team's abilities to cut a player at any time) onto fighting dogs.
I actually saw Vick in an airport once. He was reading a magazine, waiting for a flight to Atlanta when a man approached him:
"Hey, are you Mike Vick? I love playing you in Madden!"
I think Mike Vick just got played in real life.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Birthday Party 2007
Thanks to everyone who came out to my birthday party! Without further ado, check out this slide show of photos taken by YOU, the party-goers... (god, that trope is getting played out!)
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Recalling New Orleans, Part One
To continue my theme of being absurdly remiss in my blogging duties, I am only now, almost two weeks after I got beck from spending a week in Louisiana, going to write about it.
I went down with a group from my company, Return Path, to a Habitat for Humanity build near Mandeville, Covington, and Abita Springs, three small towns on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. As you might remember, the day after Hurricane Katrina hit, everyone was relieved at how little damage it had done. Then, the levees which held Lake Pontchartrain in its basin burst and the lake flooded South, towards New Orleans. The neighborhoods on the South Shore of the lake were among the hardest hit areas and many of them have not been rebuilt -- some probably never will be.
Instead, the neighborhoods on the North Shore of the lake have seen their populations triple in the last year and a half. Needless to say, this has been a bit of a strain on the infrastructure (the traffic (almost) rivals New Jersey!) Also similar to parts of New Jersey, the North Shore neighborhoods are home to many who commute into the big city for work everyday. Instead of the being the Bridge & Tunnel crowd, these folks could accurately be called the Causeway crowd, because to get to New Orleans they drive across the lake on a 23 mile bridge! Check out this google map to see this wonder.
I left New York a couple of days early with my friend and colleague, Russ, with plans to enjoy the various delights of New Orleans before we got down to work. Unfortunately, we had chosen to fly AirTran, so we spent a lot of time waiting around in La Guardia airport with a group of people, who like us, were fated to spend an unwanted night in Atlanta due to various plane and customer service malfunctions. Luckily, we were stuck with some nice people, some of whom were from New Orleans, so we heard a few interesting stories.
The most remarkable of them came from Amanda, a young woman whose extended family are almost all firemen in New Orleans. Apparently, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, firemen were forced into all sorts of first-responder duties, and among the various responsibilities of the job was the issuing, by the FBI of "drop guns." A "drop gun," we found out, is an untraceable gun with no serial number which, when given out, went along with instructions to -- if you ended up needing to use it -- drop it.
In more light-hearted news, we were (supposed to be) flying on the same day as the NFL draft and the Atlanta Falcon's star quarterback, Michael Vick, happened to be flying from the same gate as us. Despite being distracted by the blingiest chain I've ever seen, I caught a snippet of conversation between him and a white male admirer in his mid thirties, "You're great, man! I love playing you in Madden!"
When we finally made it to New Orleans, it was a real pleasure. Canal Street and Bourbon Street are busy, bustling, and unbelievably smelly. At night the bars feature cover bands or, worse, karaoke. On the upside you can buy funny T-shirts (the best we saw bore the message, "FEMA emergency plan, 'Run bitches, run!'") and get colorful alcoholic beverages in large plastic cups to go. We had more fun on Frenchman street several blocks away where there are several great jazz and blues clubs (try the Apple Barrel) and a great restaurant where I had one of the most exquisitely wonderful meals in recent memory. My guess is that everything is amazing, but I can personally vouch for the Fried Chicken, Mac 'n Cheese, and Mustard Greens.
Thank you for making it through part one, and please tune in to part two, when our intrepid heroes discover the joys of stuffed ices, the omnipotence of the word "baby" in Louisiana vernacular, and get our hand dirty with some building.
I went down with a group from my company, Return Path, to a Habitat for Humanity build near Mandeville, Covington, and Abita Springs, three small towns on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. As you might remember, the day after Hurricane Katrina hit, everyone was relieved at how little damage it had done. Then, the levees which held Lake Pontchartrain in its basin burst and the lake flooded South, towards New Orleans. The neighborhoods on the South Shore of the lake were among the hardest hit areas and many of them have not been rebuilt -- some probably never will be.
Instead, the neighborhoods on the North Shore of the lake have seen their populations triple in the last year and a half. Needless to say, this has been a bit of a strain on the infrastructure (the traffic (almost) rivals New Jersey!) Also similar to parts of New Jersey, the North Shore neighborhoods are home to many who commute into the big city for work everyday. Instead of the being the Bridge & Tunnel crowd, these folks could accurately be called the Causeway crowd, because to get to New Orleans they drive across the lake on a 23 mile bridge! Check out this google map to see this wonder.
I left New York a couple of days early with my friend and colleague, Russ, with plans to enjoy the various delights of New Orleans before we got down to work. Unfortunately, we had chosen to fly AirTran, so we spent a lot of time waiting around in La Guardia airport with a group of people, who like us, were fated to spend an unwanted night in Atlanta due to various plane and customer service malfunctions. Luckily, we were stuck with some nice people, some of whom were from New Orleans, so we heard a few interesting stories.
The most remarkable of them came from Amanda, a young woman whose extended family are almost all firemen in New Orleans. Apparently, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, firemen were forced into all sorts of first-responder duties, and among the various responsibilities of the job was the issuing, by the FBI of "drop guns." A "drop gun," we found out, is an untraceable gun with no serial number which, when given out, went along with instructions to -- if you ended up needing to use it -- drop it.
In more light-hearted news, we were (supposed to be) flying on the same day as the NFL draft and the Atlanta Falcon's star quarterback, Michael Vick, happened to be flying from the same gate as us. Despite being distracted by the blingiest chain I've ever seen, I caught a snippet of conversation between him and a white male admirer in his mid thirties, "You're great, man! I love playing you in Madden!"
When we finally made it to New Orleans, it was a real pleasure. Canal Street and Bourbon Street are busy, bustling, and unbelievably smelly. At night the bars feature cover bands or, worse, karaoke. On the upside you can buy funny T-shirts (the best we saw bore the message, "FEMA emergency plan, 'Run bitches, run!'") and get colorful alcoholic beverages in large plastic cups to go. We had more fun on Frenchman street several blocks away where there are several great jazz and blues clubs (try the Apple Barrel) and a great restaurant where I had one of the most exquisitely wonderful meals in recent memory. My guess is that everything is amazing, but I can personally vouch for the Fried Chicken, Mac 'n Cheese, and Mustard Greens.
Thank you for making it through part one, and please tune in to part two, when our intrepid heroes discover the joys of stuffed ices, the omnipotence of the word "baby" in Louisiana vernacular, and get our hand dirty with some building.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
More Dribs and Drabs
Whoa. So much has happened since my last entry. Lots of things that can be referred to by a single phrase: Imus, Virginia Tech, Spring, a few big sporting events: the NBA playoffs have begun, the NFL draft (also known as American Christmas) is right around the corner, and my beloved Penguins have been ceremoniously booted from the best postseason in all of sports, the Stanley Cup Playoffs. I will deal with each of these events in reverse order and uneven depth. For those of my readers (I know, by all appearances, I only have one, but she's schizophrenic) who really want to skip the sports stuff, move on to paragraph 5.
First, the Penguins. I guess you shouldn't complain too much when the four best players on your favorite team are all under 21. They'll be back next year for another shot at the cup. Also, it turns out that Sidney Crosby, the best player on the team (and probably the world) was playing the last few weeks of the season with a broken foot. Also, it might have been unhealthy for me if they had gotten any farther in the playoffs. During the four games that I was able to watch, I would estimate that I breathed about 18 times. Total.
The NFL draft is this Saturday and Sunday in New York, and I would really be tempted to go if I weren't going to be flying to New Orleans to work on a Habitat for Humanity build with a group from my company, Return Path, which generously encourages its employees to do community service. You might ask why I would want to attend an event that consists entirely of a man marching up to a podium, reciting a name, and then walking off, only to be repeated more than 250 times over the period of two days? Why? Events that attract WAY more interest then one would imagine, like the announcement of a paternity test or a fairly simple talent show, are fascinating, and that ESPN and the NFL have somehow managed to
bottle this magic and make it appear each year towards the end of April.
I'm going to skip the NBA playoffs. They were basically just filler in my opening paragraph, although I am watching a particularly entertaining game right now between the number 1 seeded Dallas Mavericks and the number 8 seeded Golden State Warriors (are there any other sports teams that use a euphemism to refer to their geographic location? The Big Apple Knickerbockers? The Lone Star State Stars? The Armpit-of-America Devils?)
Spring finally seems to have arrived, and not a moment too soon. It has sparked several SNOD days, and for me several SAC days -- days of Sneezing Almost Constantly.
About Virginia Tech, a few things jump out at me. First of all, I was surprised at how quickly people started joking about it. Usually after any horrible thing, there are at least a few days during which that subject is out of bounds for humor, but it seemed to me that the Virginia Tech shootings became fodder for jokes pretty quickly. Also, while I think that we might want to make it a little harder to get a gun legally in this country, I'm a bit hesitant to blame violence in movies, the chosen cultural scapegoat for this act. Listen, as someone who sat through 3 and quarter hours of almost constant violence in the movie Grindhouse earlier this week, I am all for less violence in movies. Or at least less gross, gratuitous violence. Or, at least more sex... it doesn't make sense to wait to decide which pieces of our culture inspire horrible acts until after they happen. And after all, millions of people who have watched violent movies have turned into non-serial killers, so actually, watching violent movies must have a calming effect, right, right... (how's my math, did I carry the 3?)
Talking about bizarre cultural scapegoats, how did the Don Imus witch-hunt (not to say he didn't have it coming) turn into a referendum on the state of hip-hop? Or, as this article points out, the assumed state of him-hop, since it doesn't seem like anyone is actually paying attention to the actual state of hip-hop, which is currently more bubble-gummed out then blinged-out, and more prankster than gangsta.
I was actually watching the game in question, (it was hard to find a bar near Union Square that was showing a women's basketball game, but Russ and I persisted, despite being told by a less than helpful bartender to "try a butch bar on second Avenue") and like Imus, I was struck by the contrast between the teams. Tennessee's women's basketball program is by far the best program in the country and basically can have it's choice of all the best players. And, it seems like whoever is casting has a predilection not just for the most talented players, but also for very pretty, nicely made up white girls. Meanwhile, Rutgers is a state school in New Jersey, and our team was almost all black girls from places like Newark, Camden, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. I'm not making a judgement, I'm just saying that, especially if you've read a little sports history and know that sports has often been a proxy for racial tension/warfare, it was glaringly obvious that something interesting was going on.
For an interesting perspective on Imus, check out my old boss, Richard Rein's column on the subject. Rein dug out some old notes from 1975 when he was assigned by a Cleveland area publication to profile Don Imus, who had just broken out into the national radio scene a few years before, after spending time as as a railroad brakeman, a country & western singer, and a small-town DJ!
First, the Penguins. I guess you shouldn't complain too much when the four best players on your favorite team are all under 21. They'll be back next year for another shot at the cup. Also, it turns out that Sidney Crosby, the best player on the team (and probably the world) was playing the last few weeks of the season with a broken foot. Also, it might have been unhealthy for me if they had gotten any farther in the playoffs. During the four games that I was able to watch, I would estimate that I breathed about 18 times. Total.
The NFL draft is this Saturday and Sunday in New York, and I would really be tempted to go if I weren't going to be flying to New Orleans to work on a Habitat for Humanity build with a group from my company, Return Path, which generously encourages its employees to do community service. You might ask why I would want to attend an event that consists entirely of a man marching up to a podium, reciting a name, and then walking off, only to be repeated more than 250 times over the period of two days? Why? Events that attract WAY more interest then one would imagine, like the announcement of a paternity test or a fairly simple talent show, are fascinating, and that ESPN and the NFL have somehow managed to
bottle this magic and make it appear each year towards the end of April.
I'm going to skip the NBA playoffs. They were basically just filler in my opening paragraph, although I am watching a particularly entertaining game right now between the number 1 seeded Dallas Mavericks and the number 8 seeded Golden State Warriors (are there any other sports teams that use a euphemism to refer to their geographic location? The Big Apple Knickerbockers? The Lone Star State Stars? The Armpit-of-America Devils?)
Spring finally seems to have arrived, and not a moment too soon. It has sparked several SNOD days, and for me several SAC days -- days of Sneezing Almost Constantly.
About Virginia Tech, a few things jump out at me. First of all, I was surprised at how quickly people started joking about it. Usually after any horrible thing, there are at least a few days during which that subject is out of bounds for humor, but it seemed to me that the Virginia Tech shootings became fodder for jokes pretty quickly. Also, while I think that we might want to make it a little harder to get a gun legally in this country, I'm a bit hesitant to blame violence in movies, the chosen cultural scapegoat for this act. Listen, as someone who sat through 3 and quarter hours of almost constant violence in the movie Grindhouse earlier this week, I am all for less violence in movies. Or at least less gross, gratuitous violence. Or, at least more sex... it doesn't make sense to wait to decide which pieces of our culture inspire horrible acts until after they happen. And after all, millions of people who have watched violent movies have turned into non-serial killers, so actually, watching violent movies must have a calming effect, right, right... (how's my math, did I carry the 3?)
Talking about bizarre cultural scapegoats, how did the Don Imus witch-hunt (not to say he didn't have it coming) turn into a referendum on the state of hip-hop? Or, as this article points out, the assumed state of him-hop, since it doesn't seem like anyone is actually paying attention to the actual state of hip-hop, which is currently more bubble-gummed out then blinged-out, and more prankster than gangsta.
I was actually watching the game in question, (it was hard to find a bar near Union Square that was showing a women's basketball game, but Russ and I persisted, despite being told by a less than helpful bartender to "try a butch bar on second Avenue") and like Imus, I was struck by the contrast between the teams. Tennessee's women's basketball program is by far the best program in the country and basically can have it's choice of all the best players. And, it seems like whoever is casting has a predilection not just for the most talented players, but also for very pretty, nicely made up white girls. Meanwhile, Rutgers is a state school in New Jersey, and our team was almost all black girls from places like Newark, Camden, Brooklyn, and the Bronx. I'm not making a judgement, I'm just saying that, especially if you've read a little sports history and know that sports has often been a proxy for racial tension/warfare, it was glaringly obvious that something interesting was going on.
For an interesting perspective on Imus, check out my old boss, Richard Rein's column on the subject. Rein dug out some old notes from 1975 when he was assigned by a Cleveland area publication to profile Don Imus, who had just broken out into the national radio scene a few years before, after spending time as as a railroad brakeman, a country & western singer, and a small-town DJ!
Friday, April 06, 2007
In a New Jersey State of Mind
This Sunday the sixth and a halfth season of The Sopranos will begin. I was a Sopranos doubter to begin with -- not only because I have a built-in suspicion of anything that popular, but also because I couldn't get past the fact that Soprano is a silly last name. Luckily for me, I got over that a couple of years ago and beginning with episode one, season one, I watched every single episode of the first five seasons to prepare for season six, which aired last spring. I have to admit that my nervousness about these last nine episodes almost outweighs my excitement. The first half of this last season was sub-par at best and I really hope that they blow us all away (and some of the characters) this spring.
New Jersey, homeland to myself and the Sopranos, is a strange place with strange inhabitants, real and fictitious. There is a lot of petty crime -- let's see if you can pick out the fact from the fiction (Sopranos style):
For the answer, click on this link.
Another theme seems to be driving in dubious circumstances:
For the answer, click on this link.
So, call your goomah, start cooking some pasta, buy some capicola, and tune in to HBO this Sunday at 9:00 p.m!
New Jersey, homeland to myself and the Sopranos, is a strange place with strange inhabitants, real and fictitious. There is a lot of petty crime -- let's see if you can pick out the fact from the fiction (Sopranos style):
Two successful business men with questionable pasts are on their way home from a country house, but can't resist stealing crates of expensive wine that are being loaded into the back of the restaurant that they stop to eat at.
A man wedges a coin into the fish scale at the supermarket in Newark so that he doesn't have to pay full price for his seafood.
Three people steal $12,000 dollars worth of underwear from Victoria's Secret in a mall in Jersey City.
For the answer, click on this link.
Another theme seems to be driving in dubious circumstances:
A man crashes his car into a deer (of course, for insurance purposes, the deer hit him,) while driving with his colleague's girlfriend -- rumors fly.
A man wins his appeal after being convicted of driving an industrial vehicle under the influence of alcohol because drunk driving laws don't apply if the vehicle doesn't go on highways and doesn't carry passengers.
A doctor specializing in erectile dysfunction suffers an embarrassing episode of his own when the guests at his daughter's wedding are the victims of a large-scale car thieving operation.
A doctor specializing in erectile dysfunction suffers an embarrassing episode of his own when the guests at his daughter's wedding are the victims of a large-scale car thieving operation.
For the answer, click on this link.
So, call your goomah, start cooking some pasta, buy some capicola, and tune in to HBO this Sunday at 9:00 p.m!
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