bb trout: bean soup for the soul

Why the Winter Carnival Queen Should Abdicate

2012-01-26T19:07:00.000-08:00

Dear trout:

I am sympathetic to the Occupy Pottsville movement. However what gives with your demand that the Winter Carnival Queen abdicate her throne? I never saw such anger since the Shah of Iran was deposed or when the Maroons football championship title was revoked.

Royal Watcher

Dear Royal Watcher:

Neither the Winter Carnival Queen, nor the snowflake princesses, nor the snowdrop junior princesses represents county womenhood anymore. Sadly, the Queen has lost touch with reality. Why, you ask? First of all, if you follow the contest show me one obese contestant. I knew it. You can’t. Not one. Nada. Zippo.

What kind of message is this sending to the young plump girls who, right now, as you read this, are sitting on sofas, eating family-sized bags of barbecued Marsden potato chips and drinking liter bottles of mountain dew while watching Jersey Shore on TV and simultaneously chatting away on facebook and Myspace…telling the world what they like and dislike about Snookie? Don’t we owe them something for this multi=tasking?

Last summer at a Tuesday evening JFK Pool splash party, I stood up on a picnic table at the concession stand, trying my best to organize some of the heftiest middle-school girls to put down the family-sized bags of barbequed Marsden potato chips for at least an hour. I wanted them to rise up and overthrow the royal court. I gave a rally cry to storm the Winter Palace (which incidentally serves as the Catholic War Veterans Post during the off-winter month) but no one listened to me. In fact they were rather rude and told me to put down the bull horn and get off the table or they would smash the royal jewels and throw me over the fence.

Secondly, no contestant have been permitted to appear in the pageant wearing low-cut tank tops with short torn boxer shorts with the word “juicy” or “lager” on the backside with revealing, brightly colored thongs. Again, the Winter Carnival Committee is living in la-la land. They just don’t seem to get it anymore. They don’t seem to realize that many of our county’s shallow, materialistic young girls spend lots of money on these over-priced small pieces of threads, woven in third world countries which are passed off as “clothing” to the consumers who desire to express themselves.

Don’t we want to encourage self-expression and free them of the stifling dress codes hoisted upon them by the Carnival Committee. Again, what kind of message are the trying to send? I say that these clothes, which were good enough for my daughter to wear to her eighth grade prom, are good enough to be worn in Carnival competition. I recently wrote to Ms. Payne of the Carnival Committee and suggested that she get the DVD box set of Jersey Shore and then reconsider the dress code requirements.

I never got a response!

Thirdly, the talent competition is bor-ring… How many times must we listen to the Oscar Meyer theme song or watch Irish clog dancing? Aren't we all just sick of Irish clog dancing? Wouldn’t a pierogie eating contest be more exhilarating to watch? Wouldn’t it be more nostalgic; bringing back memories of the now defunct Pierogie Bowl held in the past every February? If that is unacceptable, then maybe a wings eating contest.

Fourthly, the question and answer sessions are bor---ring and time consuming. Since it is a Winter Carnival - not a Spring, Summer or Autumn Festival - the only question that should be asked of the young women should be weather-related.

My suggestion is that one short question, such as “How cold is it?” be asked to each and every contestant and the answer must be in one sentence only. For example: “How cold is it?” “It’s so cold that Mitt Romney changed his name to Mitten Romney,” “It’s so cold that I chipped my tooth on a frozen Marsden potato chip,” “It’s so cold that my torn boxer shorts are made out of flannel,” “It’s so cold that Bill Clinton thought that Hillary just walked into the room.” This would move the contest along at a rapid pace and it could finish well before its allotted eight hours. Much more interesting than listening to their aspirations and desires for peace and the elimination of hunger in the world. Speaking of hunger, I could use a Marsden potato chip right now.

None of my suggestions were acceptable to the Carnival Committee and that is why the Queen must abdicate her throne and the Winter Carnival governed by a people’s tribunal.

trout

Where have I been?

2012-01-03T04:41:00.000-08:00

Where have I been?
I have been away for some time; unable to maintain the blog.
I apologize.

I was part of the Occupy Pottsville movement. I was camped out in Pocket Park.

The new city park on South Centre Street.

I was there for about two months.

Yes, that was me you probably gave the finger to, driving by on
your way to Maroons.

We would practice our chants until late in the evening.

That annoyed many of you.

Well, excuse me.

We are gone now.

No more chants.
We finally disbanded on Saturday night, the eve of the new year.
I can’t remember what our demands were but the city agreed to postpone
renaming Pocket Park.

That was one of the demands, I think.

We had lower expectations than our Occupy Wall Street compatriots.

We realized that we couldn’t
stop the billions given away to corporations as bail-outs by the government, we couldn’t
stop the tax perks and crony contracts given to multi-national businesses,

we couldn’t stop the military-industrial complex from continuing endless wars, and we couldn’t stop the give-aways to our elected officials, such as the defined benefit pensions with cost of living
increases even when the cost of living doesn’t increase.

No, our sights were lower…much lower.

We wanted subsidies for the local bars to have longer happy
hours.

Yes, that was one demand.

We wanted the Mayor to reinstate the dances that were held on the Norwegian Street
parking lot so that the 99% of us could once again dance freely with our backs to the wind.

That would require dance lessons to be given at various locations throughout the city,

not just at Catholic War Veterans Post.

We wanted skating boarding to be once again legalized in the downtown.

We wanted cartoon characters to once again grace Garfield Square at Christmas time so that our children, our step-children, our significant other's children and her step-children could experience an old fashioned Christmas.

Most of all, we wanted The Winter Carnival Queen to abducate her throne and be sent away to a nunnery.

We wanted her replaced with a newly created People's Winter Carnival Tribunal.

After we disbanded several of the protestors went to Garfield Square.

They would watch the beer bottle ascend.

Others went to the Hospital to await the arrival of the New Year baby.

Not me.

I went home.

I already knew the outcomes.

The bottle would rise and the baby would drop.

The baby would once again be born out of wedlock.

Nothing changes around.

Don't you agree?

It was a long two months and I needed a bath. a powerball ticket and a shot of boilo.

Not necessarily in that order.

Happy New Year.

the history of the Cressona Tunnel

2011-09-23T20:03:00.000-07:00

The history of the Cressona Tunnel

West Haven, or as it is now known as the borough of Cressona*, is divided into two parts. East Cressona is the industrious section and home of the Aluminum plant, Schuylkill Products and Trail Gardens Center. West Cressona has the Dodge City Café. Both sides however need the other. To get from one side to the other was never easy. To correct this, the borough’s founding fathers had a tunnel constructed along Route 183. The tunnel now hosts approximately 120,000 vehicles every day. Mostly these vehicles consist of Walmart trucks as well as passenger cars filled with elderly people travelling to Bill’s Produce to purchase fresh fruit for their daily fiber intake as well as those of us who headed to the Dodge City Café for happy hour.

The tunnel became world famous when the producers of the video game Grand Theft Auto III used the entrance of the tunnel in the video game. Later the tunnel had a cameo appearance in the video game Donkey Kong. The tunnel also gained notoriety for being reversible on all major British holidays. On those days, such as Boxing Day, drivers will drive through the tunnel on the left side rather than the right. It is a spectacle to watch.

The tunnel was financed through a combination of revenue bonds, S& H Green stamps and soda bottle deposits. Ideas for the tunnel appeared as early as 1840, but soda bottles with a deposit hadn’t been invented yet, nor was glue and the S & H Green stamps would fall out of the books and onto the floor.

Since its construction in the early part of the 20^th century, the tunnel has faced several problems. First it was the management and control of the toll booths. The toll booths were necessary to recoup the construction and maintenance costs, retire the revenue bonds issued, and return the staggering amount of soda bottles that were left along the roadside waiting to be redeemed. However the toll booths caused serious traffic back-ups. Eventually both of the booths were pillaged and burned by irate travelers, especially by those irritable elderly travelers in search of reasonably fresh fruit to maintain regularity. Today, the toll booths are a part of history and anyone using the tunnel is now required to have an E-Z Pass device.

The most serious problem with the tunnel is that it was not built high enough and the enormous size of todays trucks transporting stuff for consumers to buy resulted in hundreds of trucks stuck within the tunnel. Three years ago one truck loaded with whoopee cushions remained lodged within the tunnel for seventy-two hours, creating a massive traffic jam as well as a whoopee cushion shortage within the county.

It was decided that warning signals needed to be erected. Proposal after proposal was given a try. The first proposal was to construct a large piñata in front of both sides of the tunnel. This was a failure as truckers deliberately hit the piñata and then stopped to pick up the candy that spilled out before getting the truck stuck in the tunnel. The second proposal was to hang a trucker in front of the tunnel. This lasted only one week due to the protests from various human rights organizations and other do-gooders. Finally the Cressona Borough officials, after listening to the scientists who espoused the theory that watching Sponge Bob slows a person down, decided to utilize the system that is in place now, despite the substantial copyright fees that must be paid with cash, S & H Green Stamps or unreturned soda bottles. No further disruption of the tunnel traffic has occurred since.

* from the word "cresson" meaning a moderately yellow-green color.

Bieber Day, September 18th

2011-09-05T05:44:00.000-07:00

I was looking at the list of upcoming events occurring in Schuylkill County in September and I was intrigued by the Bieber Day Celebration in Pottsville. This year it will be on September 18^th as the event changes every year. The change is caused by a combination of the phase of the moon, the alignment of Jupiter and Uranus as well as the midget football schedule. This is according to the Pottsville Planetarium and the midget athletic department.

Why Bieber Day? Why Pottsville? What is the connection? No one is quite sure as there has never been a celebration of one particular individual in the county’s history. Not for John O’Hara, not for Tommy Dorsey, and not for Conrad Richter. A celebration to honor WPPA's radio legend, Wee Willie Whistle, although planned for October 1962 had been cancelled due to the Cuban Missile crisis as well as conflict with the midget football schedule.

This young Canadian pop star has never performed in the county seat. Not at the Sovereign Majestic Theatre, not at the Hippodrome, not at Goodfellas (which technically is not in the county seat but in an appendix to the county seat). Pottsvillians immediately took a shine to the young mop top singing sensation and they agreed to set aside one day in the month of September to honor him. On Bieber Day people from all walks of life will put aside their daily activities. Men will get up from their lazy boys, put out their cigarettes, and turn off their televisions sets. Women also get up from their lazy boys, put out their cigarettes, and turn of their television sets in the other rooms. They will gather together within the garden park that bears the youngster’s name, swaying back and forth to the strains of the Third Brigade Band’s melodic interpretations of his greatest hits. Hits that we all have come to know by heart and now part of the soundtrack of our lives.

Remember the feelings that you had when you first saw the scene in the film Casablanca when Victor Laslo began to sing “La Marseillaise” in defiance of the Germans? Remember how you felt when you watched that for the first time? Do you also remember the feelings that you had when you had your first hole in one at Heisler’s Miniature Golf Course? Now throw in the feelings that you had when your cell phone was in your pocket and it rang and it was set on vibrate? Well multiply all of those feelings by nine and one-half and then divide that by seven and then take the square root of that. This is the level of excitement you will have when you enter the park and participate in your first Bieber Day celebration. You will get a hint of the exhilaration awaiting you as you travel up Market Street after spending the earlier part of the day at Renninger’s Market with the rest of us. You will spot the mini-jams, guerilla dances, and Bieber hair pieces all over the place. This is nothing compared to the goings on within the park where each and every one of us is a player.

This year, Bieber Day is on September 18^th, - coincidentally the 41^st anniversary of the death of a great American guitarist, singer and songwriter- so a special bagpipe salute will occur at 6:50 which will feature lively but respectful renditions of Jimi Hendrix classics such as “Purple Haze” and “Are You Experienced.” This poignant performance should attract those of you old enough to remember Jimi Hendrix, John O’Hara, Tommy Dorsey, Conrad Richter as well as radio personality Wee Willie Whistle. It should also attract those of you who couldn’t care less about Justin Bieber.

At the time this blog is posted it was unclear whether the fire marshal would issue a waiver to allow the musician to spontaneously pour lighter fluid on his bagpipes, burn and smash them on the stage, and then throw the remnants into the audience as his grand finale. Those of us who deny that the bagpipes are really a musical instrument hope the waiver is granted. Pronto. That alone would be worth the price of admission.

earthquake

2011-08-24T00:01:00.000-07:00

EARTHQUAKE IN POTTSVILLE AND SCHUYLKILL COUNTY

Yes, I am one of the survivors of the earthquake that pulverized Schuylkill County on Tuesday August 23^rd. I felt the earth move under my feet. But I am still alive to tell my story. I had the same sensation about ten years ago when Mount Laffee erupted. Ialso had a similar sensation the other day when my cell phone rang and I had it set on "vibrate."

I felt the sky tumbling down so I knew inside of me that something terribly was wrong.

When I began to sway after I left the Eagle’s Club on South Second Street in Pottsville in mid-afternoon I had a feeling of remorse. I kept saying to myself, “Why did I pay my school taxes already?” “Is it too late to stop payment on my check?”

As I made my way up Mahantongo Street I sat down and cried as I looked upon the devastation. Once a beautiful townhouse, the structure began to tumble down before me. There was nothing I could do. I felt sorrow for the absentee landowner, knowing that his beloved building can never be salvaged.

I made my way down to West Market Street and found that a beautiful brick residence was also in ruins. If you on Market Street it is across from Yanick’s garage. You can't miss it. Apparently the roof collapsed onto the porch. Luckily, anyone inside got out alive. It is quite a setback for the city as it is now an eyesore on what once was an attractive street. “What has Pottsville done to deserve such a wrath of God?” “Can Congressman Holden help these poor absentee property owners get federal aid?” “Can Barefield Development come to the rescue?” I hoped that the Code Enforcement Office would give the owner some slack in making repairs. Could this be our Katrina? We need federal assistance right away.

It wasn’t just Pottsville. Someone told me that there are areas around Shenandoah, particularly the Lost Creek and William Penn area that were hard hit. Others said it wasn’t true, as that area prefers to look that way.

In any event I pushed my way through the ruble and worked my way up to the courthouse. The place was hard hit by the tremors. It was reported that about half of the employees were awakened from sound sleep. It may take months for normal sleeping patterns to resume. The only good news at the courthouse was one employee who was adament that the earthquake cured her hiccups.

When I arrived, Grief Counselors were already on site. I told the grief counselor that I felt guilty paying my school taxes before the taxes were due in light of the impending Rapture or Apocalypse. I told the counselor that I had so much to live for. There was a splash party for dogs at JFK Pool on Saturday and I wanted to attend with my pit bull. “Would it be cancelled?” “What about the brick that I purchased for the Courthouse in honor of the bicentennial?” “Would I ever get to gather my family around for the formal dedication?” I was paranoid that the brick mason would misspell my name on the brick and I wanted to see it and touch it before it was placed into the courtyard. The counselor told me to take six deep breathes and get the hell out of his office as no one on the courthouse payroll is buying a brick.

I was afraid to sleep in my own house that night, not because of a fear of an aftershock, but because Mammy Trout was upset that I spent so much time at the Eagle's Bar. I made my way to Pocket Park and fell into a deep sleep.

Pocket Park

2011-08-02T04:56:00.000-07:00

It will be several more weeks until the city of Pottsville unveils the name of its newest park located on North Centre Street across from the YMCA. Anticipation is building and already the city bookies are giving odds on some of the names in contention. I am not sure what all the criteria consists of for naming the park - now informally called Pocket Park. I sort of like the name Pocket Park and I would appreciate it if they just left the name alone. I have written a letter to the city requesting that it be officially be dedicated Pocket Park. However I was told that odds are one in three in favor of it being called El Parque de McGeever and two in six that it will be Barfield Park. Odds for it to remain Pocket Park are one in ten thousand. Not too good.

Parks don’t have to be named after people. Think about Central Park, Jellstone Park, the Boston Commons, Jurassic Park, Washington’s National Mall, Itchycoo Park or San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park. Pottsville can have its Pocket Park. I think there was a clown from the area called Pockets, so maybe he can honored if a person has to be honored. This way the name can remain the same but I don't think it is necessary.

Someone told me that what the city officials are generally looking for is a person. Not just any old person; preferably a living person, a friend, who is in need of an ego boost; if not, one that was recently living and who would still appreciate an ego boost posthumously. Personally I am against naming any public property after a living person or a recently departed person but I am in the minority.

The person to be honored must definitely be a man of course. Preferably a good old boy. Nothing in the city has ever been named after a woman and rightfully so. This policy stems, not from Sharia Law or Eve tempting Adam, but from the incident in 1807 when Maria Pott, the wife of city founder, John Pott, refused to attend the first American Way Fair with her husband. She said she hated the rides and she hated funnel cake even more. The chief burgess was so incensed that he introduced an ordinance banning the naming of any public property after any female from that day forward. The ordinance remains on the books today. Just like the ordinance that bans electronic billboards within the city. Look around and try to find anything named after a woman or try to find an electric billboard. You won’t find any and you never will. In a local hospital you will find a room named after Judge McCloskey and all our elementary school is named after John S. Clarke, who ran a garage I believe, but nothing after any women, even though most of hospitals and schools were staffed by women over the years. It’s forbidden to name anything after a woman other than a hurricane and the city is very strict on enforcing its ordinances. If the ordinance was repealed, Amanda Silliman would be a great example of a woman to be honored. She heroically assisted in giving aid to wounded civil war soldiers and at times risked her own life doing so. It is the 150th anniversary of the civil war and an appropriate time to honor her. She was also the first principal of the female grammar school on Centre Street. She is ineligible though because of Maria Potts' refusal to go to that fair that one partly cloudy day in May 1807 because she hated the horse-drawn tilt-a-whirl.

I was thinking that the Going My Way Bar that once graced the location of the park and featured some of the city’s first go-go girls. Top notch entertainment. These were female dancers who danced to vinyl records -predecessors to today's pole dancers - and they were trend setters in fashion; most of what is taken for granted today for normal female attire among the young ( and even not so young) stems from these go-go girls. I was planning to write a letter in support of one of my favorite dancers at the Going My Way, who really shook the floor when she danced to the Stones’ “Brown Sugar.” Maybe the park could be named after her. It’s a pity that ordinance remains on the books. Blame it on Maria Potts and her distaste for funnel cake.

I was told that there is one in ten odds in favor of “Justice Charles Moran Park” but while his credentials are very strong, it must be ruled out as his district did not encompass North Centre Street. Another Park will have to be built in the Yorkville Section for that to happen. Where is revenue sharing when we need it?

Someone said, “why not name it after a person of some national recognition?” To them I say why don’t you build your own park then. General Joulwan has his park and he is nationally known. That is enough for this city to handle. Anyway can you name any other person of national prominence from Pottsville? And don’t be bringing up some civil war generals or city founders as the criterion requires that the man must have lived in the period from 1960 to the present, and preferably a member of the Hibernians (while not absolutely necessary it sure does help). There is no one I can think of. Anyway, nothing of importance happened around here before 1960. It was a depressing time around here. Section 8 hadn't yet been invented. I think Section 2 1/2 was in effect. It was a time that people swept their sidewalks and took pride in their own property; these people were neighborly, and like me, frequented the downtown bookies to purchase their daily number tickets while shopping at the dazzling amount of busy stores, rather than sitting in front of computers to do on-line gambling and shopping. A sickening time indeed.

I got a great idea. I was thinking of that Rocking Horse Charles fellow that used to grace Centre Street. It was during an era when our charismatic street people were known to us on a first name basis. Rocking Horse Park has a ring to it. In fact I like it more than Pocket Park. I think I will write another letter to City Hall and suggest Rocking Horse Park. He was a man (not necessarily a Hibernian, but don't hold that against him) who had no national claim-to-fame but who certainly would appreciate an ego boost.

Reflection on summer events

2011-07-19T19:48:00.000-07:00

Winning! I have completed my stay in rehab and have returned to Schuylkill County.

My first stop was the Eagles Club in Pottsville. My second stop was the Yuengling Dairy on Mahantongo Street where I indulged myself with a double scoop of Prothonocherry Ice Cream.

What did I miss while I was in rehab? For one thing, I was informed that a local tax collector was busted for allegedly having sticky fingers. This saddened me as I am a big supporter of the profession of local tax collector and recommend it to any school age child who has the wear-with-all and skills to open envelopes. Schuylkill County has at least sixty six other local tax collectors, all elected by the people and for the people, so one fallen angel won’t be missed but if there is a problem then I suggest a senior tax collector can be brought out of retirement to fill the void.

People don’t realize that it is a lot of work opening those envelopes and marking “paid” into the ledger.

Some naysayers have even argued that the position of an elected tax collector for each municipality should be abolished but I believe having a tax collector that lives in the neighborhood offers us all a sense of comfort and security. I bet you do too. I hate sending my Comcast, PPL and ATT bills to some anonymous person in some distant city. I would prefer a local Comcast, PPL and ATT bill collector in every municipality.... I take that back.... On second thought I would prefer a distant Comcast bill collector rather than some local blabbermouth telling everyone how many Spice Channel movies I pay for every month. So maybe just a local PPL and ATT bill collector. Scratch a local Comcast bill collector for now. The further away, the better.

What else did I miss while in rehab? Well, the big headline in the local paper announcing the closing of Minersville’s Frank and Burger Restaurant. This announcement is one of the biggest blows to the county economy since the closing of Argo Mills and the Schuylkill Haven Bounce-O-Rama ( note: the Argo Mills and Bounce-O-Rama did not close simultaneously) and this can have a far reaching impact on the county’s fragile economy as well as the flegling local wedding planning industry.

One local woman, standing on her front porch, expressed concern about how the closing will affect her, the neighbors, the other businesses in the borough and the general way of life in the community.

“It’s gonna hurt,” she said, “we are all struggling with the news…we are all crying and – you know, nervous. The County Commissioners had promised to send in grief counselors, but I have yet to see one. I plan to write a letter to our Congressman to see what he can do for us. This is worst than Katrina.”

I am showing my age when I confess that I am old enough to remember the time before “the big merger.” At one time there was a hot dog restaurant and then there was the hamburger restaurant. Hot dogs and hamburgers were not allowed to be sold at one restaurant simultaneously in Schuylkill County. Many youngsters don't realize this and take it for granted. Shame on them.

In time the two restaurants eventually merged, but not without a fight. Supporters of the merger argued that that it was a-bun-dantly unfair for an individual who wanted to both dine on a frankfurter and a hamburger to have to make two stops. They were frank and upfront with their complaints and the County Commissioners did not relish a fight and eventually approved the merger; stating that the Sherman Anti-trust law did not apply. Sharia or Murphy's Law did not apply either. Hot dogs and hamburgers could be sold on one menu in one restaurant at one time to one individual. And soon afterwards, spaghetti could be served with meatballs. It was a liberating feeling that we all shared. I remember the jubilant crowds filling up Sunbury Street, bigger than when the local softball team wins.

Now, with the demise of the Frank and Burger Restaurant, efforts are underway to make sure the people of Minersville are not without hot dogs and burgers. STS busses will have special runs between Coney Island in Yorkville and Minersville, where they will be met by special grief counselors hired through a summer work program.

Breaking News! Trout enters rehab

2011-06-12T09:59:00.000-07:00

Unheralded and superficial dilettante, bb trout, is asking for a temporary leave of absence from his blog while he seeks professional treatment in the wake of his Twitter scandal.

His so-called common law wife, Mammie Trout, said that he would leave for professional treatment after he picks up a dozen sticky buns at Renninger’s Market, and will focus on "becoming a better common law husband and healthier person, probably in that order, but it is too early to say for sure."

The statement doesn't say what Trout would be treated for. There are conflicting stories circulating about his on-going sticky bun addiction as well as his inappropriate tweets and pokes. Schuylkill County's Warne Clinic, by the way, is noted for the treatment of food addictions and trout had been treated there in the past for bleenia (obsessive consumption of potato pancakes, preferably with onions). It is rumored that trout may be admitted there under an alias.

Just before the release of the statement, the leading Schuylkill County officials demanded that Trout step down as publisher of his blog and give up plans to run for Jury Commissioner in 2013.

"This sordid affair has become an unacceptable distraction for Mr. Trout, his so-called common law wife, and the children he sired through multiple relationships, including one with his cleaning lady. It is time for him to quit and get out of here. The office of county jury commissioner demands more of a candidate.”
Before Saturday afternoon's developments, trout told reporters in Pine Grove that "I have to redeem myself and I am going to try to get back to work. I let people down by failing to attend the Kiebossi Festival the other week. Sorry, folks! I will make it up to you. I also apologize to the five or six people who follow the blog religiously and were expecting a new article in early June."
Mr Trout’s handling of the scandal has been a public relations disaster. On Tuesday, he argued with a WPAM correspondent outside the Eagle’s Club on South Second Street in Pottsville, at one point calling the producer a “stick in the mud” and an “upstart” By Wednesday, he changed tactics, apologizing. He did interviews with WPPA, WMBT, and Sam Lasante. His attempts to inject humor into the controversy fell flat. “When your name is Trout, you get a lot of people who think everything you say sounds fishy. I made a total bass out of myself,” he told Sam.

Most puzzling to the media was Mr trout’s claim that he “could not say with certitude” whether the underwear in the photograph were his. “Don’t be koi, trout! You would know if this was your underpants, Didn't you notice the JP Morgan label? Isn't it true that you only wear underpants made in Tamaqua? It's time to come clean, Mr. Trout,” Lasante said incredulously as he waived the incriminating photograph in front of him.

Trout insisted that his Twitter, Facebook, and MySpace accounts had all been hacked and that he had been a victim of prank, joke or hoax by his opponents who were trying to sabotage his expected run for the office of jury commissioner in 2013 by sending tweets out to the entire membership of the Frackville D.A.R., the Sisters of Christian Charity and the Pine Grove Eastern Star. "I've been punked!"

It was Saturday that he fessed up to all of the photographs, prompting the release of the statement from Mammie Trout, his so-called common-law wife (who is finally getting some sympathy from the public). Apparently his problem began many years ago, before their on-again, off-again relationship had even started. It was at that time (long before Al Gore invented the internet) that trout drew an explicit self-portrait of himself on his Etch-A-Sketch and passed it around the Eagle's Club for all to see.
Apparently he spiralled downwards ever since.

The breaking point was his tweeting of an interesting close-up photo (taken in his house) of his junk.

CSI: Mahantongo Street

2011-05-20T20:45:00.000-07:00

I read with amusement the Republican Herald article regarding the over-reaction of a few people to a falling bricks from two properties on Mahantongo Street in Pottsville –"La ville qui ne dort jamais mais se baigne de temps en temps."*

Apparently some busybody neighbor called the police trying to get these property owners in trouble. Why can’t people just mind their own business? Personally I enjoy the skankiness, grittiness and creepiness of parts of Mahantongo Street, but not necessarily in that order.

For those of you who missed the story, here it is with my analysis (thank you Republican Herald):

1. City police rushed to the 800 block of Mahantongo Street on Tuesday afternoon as a 6-by-4-foot section of a brick facade connecting two vacant row homes crumbled to the sidewalk.
Why were the police rushing? Did they think the bricks would make a quick get-away? Is it true they tasered a fallen brick and dusted for finger prints? Were Miranda warnings given to the bricks? So many questions, so few answers.

2.”… City Code Enforcement Officer Donald J. Chescavage said it was just the brick facade connecting addresses 802 and 804. City officials have been trying to get the property owners to repair those facades for a few months.
Fixing up a property to meet code requirements takes time - years and maybe decades in this economy. Some of us enjoy watching buildings decay and collapse along with neighboring property values. It is a cheap form of entertainment.

3. "When we saw there was a problem there a few months ago, we sent letters to both property owners telling them they better get together on this and work together…" Chescavage said.
Rumors are that the first letter was a valentine. A second valentine will be sent out next year but more stern. I also understand that the people who “noticed” problems ten years ago will be sent to re-education camps as problems only existed “for a few months.” The photographs on my website showing the tree growing out of the basement taken over the years have all been denounced as hoaxes and I am scheduled for summer re-education camp this July.

4. According to the online Schuylkill Parcel Locator, 802 Mahantongo St. is owned by Gregory E. Wagner, 310 Highland Drive, Pottsville; and 804 Mahantongo St. is owned by Edward and Ethel Schappel, 801 Mahantongo St.
For too many years Mahantongo Street suffered from a prissy and stodgy image perpetrated upon the world by novelist John O’Hara. These property owners should be commended for helping the street shed this worn-out image.

5. Yellow police tape had been stretched across the fronts of both properties, prior to Tuesday's collapse.
What about twenty four hour police or shade tree commission protection for the tree growing from the basement?

6. A neighbor called the Schuylkill County Communications Center at 5:26 p.m. Tuesday, reporting a "building collapse," according to a supervisor at the communications center.
I always thought that filing a false police report is a criminal offense. I demand an immediate investigation of the person who called in the report and the book should be thrown at him or her (as well as a few façade bricks).

7. City police immediately sealed traffic access to the 700, 800 and 900 blocks of Mahantongo Street, and Chescavage and Dan Kelly, the city superintendent of streets, were called to evaluate the situation.
Evaluation? Just place a few pedestrians on the sidewalk and watch if they get hit on the head. If so, tell them to walk on the other side of the street. No problem. Maybe it will knock some sense into them.

8. Chescavage assured police the buildings would not collapse.
Thank God! Now we can all sleep well tonight.

9. …Chescavage and Kelly advised them to block the sidewalk in front of the properties with wooden horses.
Where do you expect these property owners who have now suffered the humiliation of having a false police report lodged against them and their names splashed in the newspaper to find “wooden horses”? Lakewood Park’s Carousel was sold decades ago and the wooden horse that once graced the window of Knapp’s Leather Goods went west years ago. Isn’t there some PADCO money available for the purchase of wooden horses and other assistance for these people?

10. Meanwhile, Chescavage said he's going to step up efforts to get the property owners to get to work on these properties. .................. The Valentine will be sent out earlier next year, much sterner.

*“The City that never sleeps but occasionally bathes”

a bad day at the donut shop

2011-05-06T18:29:00.000-07:00

With the recent release of the Mayor of Mount Carbon’s long form birth certificate proving that he is indeed the youngest mayor ever elected, some have moved onto other topics such as the mysterious crop circles in the Lewistown Valley. But not me.
I spend most of my time ease-dropping on the conversations of others while at Dunkin’ Donuts. I learn a lot this way. I discovered the truth about the Freemasons, the Oddfellows, the Knights of Columbus, the Hibernians, Teen-Age Republicans, the 4-H, and the Eastern Star- just be being a busybody.

From my ease-dropping, I now know that there is a new group attempting to control our county….It is a shadowy group, a modern incarnation of the age-old Iluminati...a group of masterminds plotting to create a New County Order.

The other day, I saw these individuals enter the Donut Shop, I saw them place the same order. Double cocoa kreme puff donuts…two of them…large coffees with half and half. They gathered around the same table, sitting in a rectangular formation. They ate their donuts and drank their coffee while talking about the upcoming election. But there is no emotion. None. Just the pretense of it. Their words, their gestures, everything else is the same. There is no feeling. Not like me when I eat a double cocoa kreme puff donut. Whoo Hoo! Something is passing between them all, some secret. It's a conspiracy, I know it.

I cautiously watched them from behind my newspaper. I read the Pottsville Republican. I pretended to read Doctor Gott’s column on curing flatulence and then a column by Ione Geier who recalled about the night that Tubby Allen go the salt and pepper shakers mixed up at the Pottsville Club.
I glanced over nervously. The men continued to eat their donuts. I thought to myself, “I hope they don’t notice me.” I began to perspire profusely. I occasionally took a bite out of my Apple Cheese Danish and washed it down with coffee. The coffee was hot and black. Just like the coffee the men at the table were drinking. Just like a woman I met down in New Orleans thirty years ago, but that is another story. I overheard some of their conversation. They discussed the eventual take-over of the county. Who? Who is going to take over the county? I started to choke on my Apple Cheese Danish. I told the concerned waitress that I did not need the Heimlich maneuver, but thanked her anyway and told her that I would take a rain check on that. She did bring me a glass of water. It was fluoridated! I refused to drink it. I spit it out. Wouldn't you?
I watched them get up and leave the table. I slowly walked over, I looked down…hmmm….left behind were donut crumbs, a TV Guide and a miserly tip. “Why seventeen cents?” What is the significance? Of course, the primary is on the.... 17th! BUT why TV Guide? I realized that I was onto something really big.

Something is going to happen. It is already in process. I need to get the word out. Who is taking over the county? Who would want to take over the county? Would it be coal operators bent on transforming the entire county into one big Wadesville, having us work fourteen hour days below ground and making us do all our shopping at the company stores rather than at Walmart? Would my daughter, Santana be destined to become a "breaker girl" and have to give up her dreams of becoming a pole dancer? Would it be the railroad operators? Nah….scratch that…. Would it be the brewers? They once had a lot of clout. Nah….The Gas Industry already controls the rest of the state. Nah, not them....I picked up the TV Guide. I noticed that the Food Channel shows were all circled. Yes! I found the clue I was looking for. Then it dawned on me….

"County Commissioner candidate, Gary Hess is connected to food catering...
Controller candidate Brad Petchulis is connected to the sale of meats....Controller candidate Christy D. Joy is connected to catering....The current sheriff is connected to catering....
County Commissioner candidate Larry Padora is in the bakery business.....The County has just published a... cook book!...what kind of recipes do they have is store for us little people?... I have to have that cookbook..I need to get one right away....sooner or later we'll, all of us, be on the menu.... All of us."

Is this the start of the New County Order? If the food industry gets a stranglehold on the county what does it mean? Is it the end of the Atkins Diet? Will all of the gyms and health clubs be shut down? Will the prices of halupkies be artificially manipulated? God help us if they are! Is this a desperate attempt to bring the shadowy Mrs. T back to power so that she can rule over us as if she was Eva Peron, Imelda Marcos or that mysterious female Jury Commissioner we never see? Will it be like that Twilight Zone episode where the Kanamit aliens come down to earth to harvest mankind for some sort of intergaltic gumbo? I dropped the TV Guide, took one more bite of my danish. Whoo Hoo! I quickly exited the Donut Shop, running up and down Westwood Boulevard with my hands frantically waving back and forth, yelling at the top of my voice to anyone who would listen to me. Will you? Please listen to me....This is even bigger than the Mount Carbon birth certificate story.

Mount Carbon: today and yesterday

2011-04-19T17:05:00.000-07:00

The relentless demands placed upon the mayor of Mount Carbon to release his birth certificate are placing the tiny hamlet of Mount Carbon in the spotlight this election season. This so-called birther movement insists that ‘his honor’ is not the youngest head of the tiny community as publicized; they believe that there were several former Mount Carbon mayors younger – one as young as seven.
So here is a quick look at the history of Mount Carbon – often confused with Mount Olympus, Mount Rushmore and Port Carbon.

Mount Carbon, the mystical, elven fishing village, is well-hidden in the moorlands and foothills of the Sharp Mountain, somewhere between Greater Pottsville and the steep-walled valley of Outer Pottsville (the so-called hill of the forests). It is situated on rising ground behind the hythe, or small landing, on the west bank of the Schuylkill River. It is sometimes referred to as a kingdom under the mountain.
At one time the village also encompassed the east bank of the river. The boggy nature of that land made for above-ground habitation rather than the traditional hobbit-holes commonly found elsewhere in Mount Carbon.

After the invasion of 473 by a horde of Winter Carnival Vulcans this eastern settlement was destroyed, conquered and replaced by the Greater Pottsville Sewer Authority. This area still remains a sewer spot today. In 510 a wall was then built around the village, with the help of the dwarves of the nearby glittering caves, preventing further pillage and looting. Remnants of the wall are still visible to passer-bys today, especially those frequenting Julian’s Café.

Mount Carbon has become synonymous with an earthly utopia – a happy land, isolated from most of the world, reachable primarily by canal boat - a place of peace and tranquility. It has a human population of approximately eighty, an undetermined number of Sindarin elves, hobbits and gnomes, fifteen dogs, eight cats, and two finches and one bog turtle.

It was founded as far back as the end of the First Age, sometime during the Years of the Trees when the Dwarf Fathers awoke from beneath Sharp Mountain. The origins of its inhabitants are obscure, but it believed they were pre-Númenóreans. The villagers maintain a long-lasting friendship with the trolls and the mountain people of North Manheim, a nearby township, or shire, ever since the peace treaty of 947.

Originally the head of state was the king who exercised power over the original inhabitants, with the assistance of a tribal council. Now the leader is to be elected by the populace, with the king remaining only a figurehead who officiates at the monthly firehouse’s 80-20 drawings. The royal standard of Mount Carbon still remains an image of a white tree in blossom upon sable field, surrounded by seven Bavarian beer caps and surmounted by a halibut.

Before the time that the girls gone wild invaded Goodfellas and before the war of the wrath, the village was rumored to be covered with the pearls, opals and East Penn bus tokens that the elves found in the flowing Schuylkill River, apparently tossed overboard by careless passengers on the canal boats travelling between Pottsville and Philadelphia that carried high rolling gamblers and floozies, not necessarily in that order.

On the site of the present day Pottsville Pizzeria was located a famed inn - The Prancing Pony - which was visited by travelers from all parts of the world and elsewhere. It was the chief edifice within the village, built along the great road, or Centre Turnpike. It had fine Bavarian Lord Salisbury Ale. It is where the art of smoking pipeweed began.

When the canal boats ceased to run, the shipbuilding stopped and the docks at its port fell into decay and the Prancing Pony was demolished. The village had been dependent upon the River for contact with the outside world. It was the major crossroad due to its location on a major travel route. With the canal not to reopen for at least another ten years, its major industries remain saloons, pizza, hoagies and fresh fish (halibut).

Springtime has come to Schuylkill County: a poetic blog

2011-04-03T10:42:00.000-07:00

I am a devout reader of the Thunder and Lightning Column in the Pottsville paper which allows petty complaints of the readers to be aired daily. However the other day the one writer had me so steamed up that I could not sleep for two days. Apparently the writer had nothing better to do than complain about litter that hugs the hill alongside the Fairlane Village Mall on Route 61. Excuse me, but don’t these people have anything better to whine about? Don’t they realize that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure? This is my treasure so lay off buddy!

I particularly find that stretch of road appealing and often sit by the McDonald’s window just gazing as I savor my cheese mcmuffins, watching the ashened snow melt away after a long, hard winter; the anthracite earth now awakening from its long slumber and revealing gems of plastic bags, food wrappers and the like, crawling up through the ice, all flickering in the season’s newborn sunlight, calling out to me, waiting to be reborn, making me feel reunited with the past.

The past and the future now both entwined in the one eternal present under the spring equinox. I am in awe in what was once before. I say it again. I am in awe in what was once before. It brings me curiosity. Perhaps these are bags from Value City, Payless Shoes, the Fashion Bug, Coney Express, Orange Julius or Waldenbooks - the stores of old? Oh what treasures and treats they once held. Lustrous species of years gone by packaging, attracting me with their quivering lush colors of beige, black, grey, and off-white. Diamonds sparkling in the dirt, but when joined together resembling a smothering security blanket enveloping the hillside along our thoroughfare, and embracing me along the way.

I sometimes step outside from McDonald’s ambidexitously smoking a cigarette while holding a double bacon mccheeseburger, listening while the traffic slows for the light, listening above the sounds of the whirling engines, to that rustling dainty plastic as it endlessly dances alone in jigsaw puzzle formation, and waves to me, laughting in the diesel fuel-scented, errant breeze. Waving also to the passersby aimlessly traversing route 61; pick-up truck window now opened just a wee bit, enough to allow the Winston smoke to flow out and upwards towards the heavens, as if it were a europhic incense offering to swell the heart of Brigit, the Celtic goddess of spring in some sort of thanksgiving or praise for, once again, another successful Girardville parade.

I often wonder what those fallen bags could be saying to me with that sweet, faint sound of flapping plastic. It must be “Ahh, springtime has come to Schuylkill County.” Within a few weeks the plastic bags, pastic soft drink lids, and paper containers will be joined by the brightly colored display of political signs, forming one huge bouquet, but each crying out nonsensically to anyone who looks, “vote for me and your life will improve.” Each sign held high and aloft by a metal band, each sign competing against one another, vying for attention, knowing that only one candidate will win. “Please lord let it be me.” And so, it goes, year after year, another bouquet with names, some the same and some different, but in the end our lives not improving, but with each spring comes the resurrection of hope that this election time it will be different. Haleluliah! “Ahh, springtime has come to Schuylkill County.”

Soon the streets of our downtowns will be magically filled with out-of-shape, shirtless, strange looking men parading like proud peacocks, showing off some new expensive tattoo paid for probably by the taxpayer through somesort of subsidy, shuffling up and down the sidewalks in rhythm with hairy backs, holding a cell phone (with unlimited minutes) in one hand up to a pierced ear as if each was listening to some distant seductive siren whispering teasingly, whispering above the roar of the ocean found within a conk shell, whispering what powerball numbers to pick and what topping should be on the pizza that will be brought home for dinner that night and where bath salts can still be purchased legally. Bed, Bath Salts and Beyond?

Yes, it is a primeval mating ritual, with the men responding without words to those forlorn, haltered-top women now passing by. Glistening navel rings, like the brass rings found at the Flying Horses at Knoebels' Grove, perched in the middle of the revealing flabby white little bellies, reminding the men that the new year baby contest is only nine months away and time is a-wasting…springtime is the time of rebirth, springtime is the time to hook-up with someone, anyone. "Please lord, let it be me" echoes down the lonely coridors once called business districts.

“Ahh, springtime has come to Schuylkill County.” Yes, as I sit there in McDonald’s eating the last of my Mcnuggets, I find it more exhilarating looking at that littered bank, far below the abandoned Value City, than you who dare criticize and think you are better than the rest of us with your crocuses (crocii?), daffodils, tulips, pussy willow, and/or robin eggs. Not necessarily in that order.

What I see makes me feel alive while those other things that you hold dear to you are just downright boring. I then get up and throw away my losing powerball tickets as if to make a sacrifice to Brigit, that Celtic goddess of spring. I watch them flutter across the highway and land amidst the bed of discarded dreams.

where did everyone go?

2011-03-16T20:02:00.000-07:00

I just returned from the Santander (Sovereign) Majestic Theatre where a symposium was held on the topic, Pottsville’s Declining Population. I was quite pleased. With a declining population it was now easier for me to get a good seat and the line for popcorn was bearable.

Here are the facts. In 1940 Pottsville had a population of about 24,500 and now, in 2010, it is 14,172. While the drop sounds grim, I told the audience that it could have been much worse. Luckily for us more and more activities are now illegal so our prison is keeping ours numbers up. I reminded the audience that there are about 30 prisoners doing hard county time for removing the tag on their mattresses and we should be thankful for each and every one of them as well as the informants who ratted on them.

That remark was received by an overwhelming praise for prison overcrowding and demand that additional laws be immediately enacted making more behavior illegal.

The pros and cons of a county-sponsored Kids for Cash program to halt the out-migration of our youth was also discussed. This was soundly rejected due to the bad publicity the program received in Luzerne County.

As the main speaker at the symposium I pointed out glaring omissions by the press. For instance while the population of Pottsville had decreased 8% over the past ten years, the fact that the average waist size of the citizenry expanded by 8% was ignored. "Why wasn't this good news publicized?" I mentioned just before the buttered popcorn break.

I also pointed out that Pottsville now has three nursing homes filled with many Alzheimer residents, who have no plans to leave the city of Pottsville, especially since they reside in locked and secured buildings, and most of them don't have driver's licenses; they could only wander by foot to Mechanicsville if they wanted to leave our city.

Some one in the audience brought up the fact that the local women’s shelter had expanded and this also helped get the numbers up. Everyone gave a round of applause. “Hats off to the ladies.”
After another buttered popcorn break, I presented a power point presentation featuring statistics that outlined the consistency of the decrease over the past seventy years. The city has a steady decline of 8% per decade. "It is no stampede, no mad dash, no exodus, no hegira, no evacutation, no diaspora. It has been a very level but orderly out- migration. If you want to see an exodus try taking the post-apocalypic road through the wasteland from Shenandoah to Girardville. Pottsville will be here much longer than any of those municipalities. ...Maybe the county should be cut in two and the southern half united with northern Berks County. I just don't know." At this point another popcorn break was called.

If the City can maintain this consistency, then it is guaranteed that Pottsville will remain around for hundreds of more years; it will just be just smaller. A tiny town in a tiny county. All commerce will be done at the Tilden Shopping Area near Hamburg. In fact, it won’t be until 2060 that the city's population will fall below the 10,000 mark needed to retain city status. In that year, it will return to its roots and once again become a borough. Even in the tri-centennial year of 2106, the population will be a robust 6200. Someone mentioned that a larger percentage of these 6200 residents may be in nursing homes, shelters or in prison, so I asked that the word ‘robust’ be stricken from the record. In any event, I plan to be still cyrogenically preserved at that time at the Jalappa Ice Plant, not to be defrosted until the city's sesqui-tricentennial. Beep your horn when passing me. After one more popcorn break an open-mike participation was held, allowing suggestions for increasing the population of the city. Here are some of the responses:

Conjugal visits for the prisoners.

Grant citizenship to household pets (at least dogs for starters).

Having the New Year Baby contest held monthly and double the prizes.

Invade North Manheim Township and enslave the residents.

Bring back the Mayor’s Dance at the Norwegian Street parking lot.

Clean up the city & enforce the building codes to attract middle-class families.

Demand a census recount and have each bi-polar resident count for two.

Offer each new resident one dozen sticky buns as an incentive for relocating here.

Promote the city as an ideal location for those entering the federal witness protection program.

Rezone Greenwood Hill as a clothing optional area.

Have all the city's traffic lights stay red longer, thereby delaying people from leaving.

All great ideas; all in all, it was a great symposium. I hope to see 92% of them back in ten years.

Road trip to Tremont

2011-03-07T18:21:00.000-08:00

Mardi Gras week and nowhere to go.
With a gallon of gas costing more than a six pack of Yuengling, driving to New Orleans is out of the question. Even if a gallon of gas cost less than a half gallon of Guers iced tea, I wouldn’t go.

I don’t like to leave the county’s borders except for an occasional trip to Luzerne or Lackawanna County to watch the trials of the government officials, some elected, some appointed – judges, count commissioners, row officers, school board members, housing authority board members, meter maids, patrol boys; the whole gammit.

Mammy enjoyed the trials too; sitting in the courtroom with her lady friends who all knitted while the testimony was given. Why knitting? Not because it made her feel like Madame Defarge in Dickens’ “Tale of Two Cities.” No, but because my birthday was coming up and she wanted to make me a sweater. So very thoughtful of her.

I feel secure here. Schuylkill County is my cocoon. It is my fortress, my sanctuary. This is why I stay here. The outside world means nothing to me. My world begins and ends in the four corners of this county.
I told Mammy that we would celebrate Mardi Gras in the french settlements of the county. We could get there and back and still have money left over for some Yuengling and Guers iced tea. I got out my map of Schuylkill County and looked for the French areas. At first we thought we would go to La Velle but we changed our minds. It was too small.
We finally decided we would celebrate Mardi Gras in the French village of Tremont. At first, Mammy questioned if that was truly a french area. I responded that it had to be a French settlement with a name like that. Tres means “three” and mont means “mountain.” I took three years of French so I knew what I am talking about. What else could it be? Comprenez-vous ?

I told her that it was settled by French fur trappers many years ago but with the closing of Pollack’s and the three other Pottsville furrier stores, fur trapping as a livelihood took it on the chin. The French settlers took their pelts and moved away. People around don’t wear fur anymore. People around here wear caps made in China, and tee shirts and sweat pants made in Vietnam.

So off we went in our F-150. We ended up in Tremont on Mardi Gras Day, or Fat Tuesday as some call it. We felt out of place walking around the Main Street in our costumes. With Spa 61 now shut down, Mammy got a good deal on a real cute outfit. She looked adorable. However no one else in town had on a costume, only baseball caps, tee shirts, sweat pants, and an occasional NASCAR jacket. I wore the Border Patrol costume that I purchased from someone north of the mountain who didn't need it anymore.

Tremont was so quiet. There were neither floats nor krews nor women flashing themselves in order to get some cheap plastic beads made in China. I dangled a few beads in front of a few women heading into the bank but I got no takers. I guess they had all the cheap plastic beads they needed. After standing in front of the old Tremont movie theatre (that is a French word for theater) we found a small downtown bistro. We sat down and were content to spend the rest of the day dining on fasnachts. These are delicious doughnuts that are deep-fried in lard that are then sprinkled with confectioners’ sugar. My mouth is now watering just thinking about them. I ate all of those in the photo to your left. Fasnachts became popular after the departure of the french fur trappers, or maybe the trappers all died off after eating too many fasnachts and that resulted in the Pottsville furriers shutting down their stores? Who knows?

In the words of Nancy Reagan, “Just Say Dough –nut; laissez les bon temps roulez."

The Concise History of the Greater Pottsville Winter Carnival

2011-02-20T16:32:00.000-08:00

1888 – Blizzard hits Schuylkill County. Winter Carnival is born when men shovel off Market Street to cheering crowd; the first telemarketer phone call in Schuylkill County asks “do you want to buy a button?”
1899 – Winter Carnival Parade features Third Brigade Band, beer wagon, two horses and a fire truck; first carnival theme - “Party Like It’s 1899.”
1900- Moustache defrosting, first competition event.
1901 – Winter Carnival King frees the serfs; long underwear arrives by train from Tamaqua.
1910- Steam heat under Market Street created allowing for sub-zero parades to continue for decades.
1916 – The first Vulcan appears in Pottsville landing by space craft; terrorized citizenry hide.
1917 – Interfaith Council preach against “the sinister influence of Vulcans on our Youth.”
1918 – Unity Day in city calms fears of Vulcans settling in the county.
1919 – Women permitted to participate in Winter Carnival after passage of 19th Amendment.
1920 – “Spanish Flu” deemed worst Winter Carnival theme of all time.
1921- First Winter Carnival Queen Contest held at the Hippodrome Theatre.
1925 – Yuengling Ice Cream sponsors the first Radio Night on WPPA.
1932 – Prohibition ends. Yuengling Brewery now sponsors Radio Night and Carnival becomes a lot more fun even though it’s a Depression outside.
1936 – Winter Carnival King abdicates his throne to marry the woman he loves.
1937- Hair pulling competition banned from Winter Carnival Snowflake Princess Pageant for being “unlady-like.”
1941- World War II results in Winter Carnival parade floats being pulled by dog teams to conserver gasoline.
1942 – One million buttons collected for war effort; Many Vulcans are drafted and replaced by Vulcanettes who are either women or female impersonators.
1943 – Vulcan high-pitched dialect used by Defense Department to relay unbreakable commands during the war.
1944 – Carnival Mascot Pottsie Ottsie mistakenly arrested by FBI, released after proving he was not the notorious Axis Power sabateur, Pottsie Nottsie.
1945 – Germany surrenders after being bombarded by one million carnival buttons.
1950 – high birth rate of boomer babies results in Little Miss Snowdrop Contest.
1955 – McCarthy hearings in Washington focus on Winter Carnival Polka Night subversive activities; accordion players from Minersville refuse to answer questions and are blacklisted.
1957 – Iced Tea Night sponsored by local business is guered to the young.
1958 – Hula Hoop competition added as event amid protests from some that the hoops are too small for the average county waistline.
1959 – Contestants no longer have to answer questions in pig latin.
1961 – Moustache Defrosting dropped as an event and replaced with fifty mile walk in the snow after JFK challenges the city to put down their hoops and put on snow shoes.
1965- Pottsville Ski Lodge opened by the von Tropp Family. Skiing added as an event.
1966- Frankie Fontaine, the character who played the “Crazy Guggenheim” character on the Jackie Gleason Show attends Winter Carnival and says that he “fits right in and feels at home.”
1967 – Peace reigns in Pottsville during the so-called “winter of love.” Snowball fighting treaty is signed between City and Port Carbon.
1968 – King of Vulcans proclaims that he is more popular than both Jesus Christ and Mayor Close combined; snow ball fights break out throughout county.
1972 – Steam Heat Plant shuts down, parade trudges through snow filled Market Street with parade taking an unprecedented eighteen hours to complete; Five marching mummers are never found.
1975 – “Swine Flu” theme features frosted pig catching competition outside of Farmer’s Market; Monsignor Boyle performs exorcism on person possessed by Vulcans.
1979 – Attendance dramatically drops off at parade. Only floats with odd-numbered license plates permitted to participate. President Jimm Carter laments about the mayonnaise at the Catholic War Veterans Lodge.
1981 – County’s high elderly population results in creation of Miss Slush Contest.
1982 – Urine tests mandated by the city’s Surgeon General at all Winter Carnival Events “just for the fun of it.”
1984 – Nancy Reagan grand marshal of Parade with theme of “Just Say Snow.”
1985 – all athletic events are permanently cancelled by proclamation of the Pottsville Surgeon General who urges everyone to stay home and play video games.
1987 – President Reagan appears at Carnival Coronation and urges the Master of Ceremonies to “tear down this ball.” Instead the city demolishes Garfield School.
1994 – Wonderbra controversy overshadows Carnival; President Clinton signs NAFTA; all vulcan outfits now made in China.
1995 – von Tropp family flees city by crossing over Sharp Mountain in the dead of night;. Ski Lodge closes permanently; skiing outlawed within city limits along with skateboarding and moustache defrosting.
1997 - Vice President Gore predicts global warming will end Carnival "as we know it."
2000 – Theme of “Party Like Its 1999” rejuvenates Carnival.
2001 – Mysterious puddle found in downtown rooming house; DNA results confirm puddle to be the remains of Pottsie Ottsie.
2006 – Mayor announces construction of multi-million dollar Intermodal Building to house Winter Carnival memorabilia, unsold buttons and a vial of the Pottsie Ottsie puddle.
2010 – Body piercing and tattooing rejected for Little Miss Snowflake contestants in close 7-6 decision of Winter Carnival Committee, irate single parents storm out of the meeting;
2011 – Wilhelmina Payne releases memoirs, “A Payneful Look Back On the Winter Carnival.” Sam-Son Productions buys movie rights for an undisclosed sum.

The Negative Impact Of Professional Pierogie Eating On Today's Society

2011-01-31T19:42:00.000-08:00

It is time for me to be serious. I realize it is Pierogie Bowl Weekend in Schuylkill County and many families will be hosting Pierogie Bowl Parties or going out to a Sports Bar to watch it on Plasma TV. I don't want to be a humbug but the Pierogie Bowl has a negative, delusional impact on our young people and it is time we faced up to this fact.

Pierogie eating is big around here – very big. It always has been and probably always will be. Years ago, our young boys had nothing to look forward to but to work in the mines. That is, dangerous work in the dark for sixty hours a week. On Saturday nights the miner could then go out to smoke, drink, gamble and chase skirts with his paycheck. Yes, I know it sounds pretty good but the excitement and novelty quickly wears off and monotony sets in after several years.

Eventually word got out that it is possible to become rich and famous, while still having time to smoke, drink, gamble and chase skirts, by breaking into the fledgling pro sport of pierogie eating. But no longer would one have to go underground for sixty hours a week for the opportunity to do so as pierogie eating was done nearly all of the time above-ground.

The prestige bestowed on the professionals of competitive pierogie eating encouraged young men, primarily from “north of the Broad Mountain” to consider this up and coming sport as a one-way ticket out of the mines.

The temptations of exorbitant endorsement payments, autograph sales, and contracts with the Food Channel and Bon Appetit magazine are certainly seductive to many a young boy and few girls (pierogie eating has gone co-ed due to Title IX requirements).

Yet breaking into the pros remains an elusive and unrealistic goal. Only the “cream of the potato crop” will make it the Pierogie Bowl. The disheartened majority will fall by the wayside. Exploited by coaches and corporate executives, these naive, gluttonous youngsters will usually find themselves without a decent job when their eating contest days end and they become has-beens.

It is difficult to change this mentality, as many myths remain unshakeable. Myth Number One is that “high school pierogie gorgers get scholarships.” This is absolutely incorrect. While it is true that there is some financial assistance to attend a culinary school out there, very, very few high school pasta pocketeers actually receive full scholarships to such places. The scholarship money awarded is pittance and would not even pay for a semester’s worth of butter and onions.

Myth Number Two is that “pierogie competition leads to a college degree.” Without any doubt, more pierogie eaters are college educated today than years ago. Yet many barriers remain which hamper graduation for the serious college pierogie competitors. The demands on their time and energy as well as the post-game indigestion, gaseousness and nausea are incalculable, even in the off-season. Because of these pressures, many collegiate food devourers simply drop out and forget about receiving a diploma.

Myth Number Three is that “pierogie eating is a realistic career choice.” Again, this myth is without foundation. Yes, a few pierogie eating standouts can make millions, but their number is extremely low. On the other hand, the average pierogie tasting jobs jobs have either been relocated overseas (thanks to NAFTA) or performed by robots. The jobs just aren’t there anymore.

These three myths remain strong in our county where pierogie eating is now ranked as the number three high school sport, following right behind football and field hockey. During the summer off-season I did manage to visit a few of the several pierogie eating training camps that dot our beautiful county. To those who do not follow the sport of pierogie eating, these camps are commonly referred to as “block parties, ” "bazaars," "church picnics" or “street fairs.” These training camp block parties are basically places where young rookies as well as the more “seasoned” (no pun intended) semi-pros display their skills and try to be spotted by scout to possibly earn roster spots on the glamour teams from Mahanoy City, Shenandoah or the up-start Lost Creek that are legends in the Mrs. T Pierogie Bowl. It is a coal region way of life that will never die. The large attendance and participation at such events as the Polish Day, Lithuanian and Ukrainian Day Festivals in Minersville, as well as the Yorkville Block Party, reflect the aspirations of hundreds of our county's youngsters. They want to turn pro and make ridiculous amounts of money instantly. And why not?

Maybe the grueling discipline and hours of practice will pay off for one or possibly two. Who knows? Maybe these select few will get a chance to participate in the biggest bowl tournament in the coal region. But lets get serious, it's not going to happen for most. These impressionable kids are wasting their time as well as their block party tickets. Tickets better spent on halushki, bean soup or french fries.

Their willingness to train, sacrifice, and prepare for the future are commendable. But in doing so, the main focus needs to be on developing the occupational skills needed for success in a highly competitive global marketplace. Professional Pierogie Eating is not going to cut it. You don't see Won Ton eating competition being glorified in China. No, those youngsters are busy solving math problems. This is why I am boycotting this year's pierogie bowl. Just say 'dough.'

Top Ten Highlights of Last Year's Pierogie Bowl

2011-01-15T16:04:00.000-08:00

TOP TEN HIGHLIGHTS OF LAST YEAR'S PIEROGIE BOWL

10. The sexy new babushkas worn by the hot Pierogie Bowl cheerleaders;
9. Mrs. T's scandalous wardrobe malfunction during the half-time show;
8. The post-game locker room interviews, the congratulatory phone call from the President Obama, The Mahanoy City post-game victory parade - all priceless;
7. Service Electric finally had “pay-for-view” coverage available for those who could not get tickets to the game;
6. The beer vendors lowering the price of Kaier’s to $5. per cup;
5. After the game Spencer Gifts had “pierogie bowl champion" bobble-heads 50% off;
4. Those crazy end-zone polka dances;
3. The Shenandoah wide receiver's groin injury;
2. Less choking than in the Eagles game;
1. The look of jubilation on the faces of the victorious Mahanoy City team after a carton of Guers Iced Tea was poured over Mr. Twardzik while the team yelled out in unison, “We’re going to Lakewood Park.”

My Top Ten Predictions for the Orthodox New Year

2010-12-30T19:40:00.000-08:00

This year my new year resolution was to avoid any discussion on the New Year baby and so far I have kept my word. Best wishes to the mom, baby and the anonymous donor!

On January 13th, the Orthodox New Year's Day, I will formally announce my Predictions for 2011 in the Walmart Lobby. Since I received my associate's degree in hocus pocus from McCann's, I have been hailed as the true successor to Nostradamus.

To those of you that have no life and continue to read this blog I will give you a head's up on these predictions. So take solace my friends. Print them out and put them away to keep score next December. I have only been wrong once; that was when I erroneously predicted that the Three Pennsylvania Dutch Tenors' Groundhog Day CD would go platinum.

TOP TEN PREDICTIONS FOR THE ORTHODOX NEW YEAR

10. At the Sovereign Majestic Theatre members of the scientific community will present irrefutable proof that space aliens have indeed made contact with earth by premiering a startling documentary on the Pottsville American Way Fair.

9. During the upcoming Commissioner Race a “birther conspiracy movement” will spread rumors that the Mayor of Mount Carbon is not as youthful as he claims to be. The growing demands for the release of his birth certificate will divert attention from the pressing issues.

8. At the September County Real Estate Tax Sale, the entire borough of Shenandoah will be sold to a Saudi Prince - with Mahanoy City included in the sale - after the investor agrees to pay in cash! Ironically, within three years the Prince will demand his money back.

7. A new Dead Sea scroll will be discovered near the Rock along the Schuylkill River south of Port Clinton giving rise to a new religious sect as well as to a new pun - “Rock and Scroll" which results in yours truly being tossed off off the Rock.

6. The American Medical Association (AMA) will make a major announcement that will send shock waves around the world declaring that bleenies indeed cure flatulence.

5. Full body scans will be instituted at the Schuylkill County Fair after Congressman Holden delivers a check to cover the costs of the extra large equipment that is required. Three oversized women will appear with the Congressmen in a newspaper photograph accepting the check.

4. In a controversial development, the County Commissioners will issue a proclamation declaring mayonnaise the official condiment of the county's bicentennial celebrations resulting in both a stunning defeat for the north-of-the- mountain horseradish supporters as well as dozens of arrests throughout the county.

3. The Yorkville Burger King will select a commoner wife from Minersville. A royal wedding will be held at St. Patrick’s Chapel in early Spring with the reception to follow at...you guessed it...the Burger King.

2. My parole application will once again be denied.

1. In a move to increase its membership, the stodgy old Pottsville Club will forego its strict dress code by experimenting with a "Pantless Wednesday."

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Courthouse Christmas Tree

2010-12-17T19:18:00.000-08:00

The Court House Christmas Tree this year is a celebration of the county’s bicentennial as well as a loving salute to our vast number of municipal governments.

The Court House Christmas Tree Committee (CHCTC) has been scrutinizing the submission of ornaments from the various municipalities to be inducted onto a branch on this year’s tree. With so many local governments there is a concern that the tree would be incapable of holding the weight. At last count there were between 67 -253 officially sanctioned municipalities and governmental entities.
Sadly, Yorkville was not allowed to participate in the tree celebration. Yorkville’s controversial hand-painted ceramic Christmas ball featuring the likeness of the Burger King Restaurant was removed by deputy sheriffs after a protest was lodged by the City of Pottsville. It was wrestled to the ground and thrown in the Courthouse Dumpster. As you know, the City claims control of this contested territory as a result of a controversial election about one hundred years ago. If the Yorkville ornament remained on the tree, then Pottsville threatened to remove its numerous ornaments. The Pottsville ornaments are quite spectacular and include a replica of a purse once carried by Crazy Sarah and a string of popcorn. Not just any popcorn, but buttered popcorn that was found beneath the ruins of the Capitol Theatre.

Pottsville insists that Yorkville is an inalienable part of Pottsville and Pottville’s City Hall is the sole legal authority over the disputed territory. This authoritarian policy had created tension and saber-rattling in the neighboring municipalities of Mount Carbon, Palo Alto, Mechanicsville, Port Carbon and Shoentown; all of which still refuse to recognize the absorption of Yorkville into Greater Pottsville. These neighboring municipalities still recognize a free and independent Yorkville with its capital building at Lotz’s Café on West Market Street.

Incidentally, the third week in July is celebrated as Captive Municipalities Week in many of these places with speeches and parades promoting independence for such places as Yorkville, Rahn Township, Teaberry Hill, The Irish Flat’s, Altamont, Shenandoah’s First Ward, Smoketown, and Arnot’s Addition. Many of these captive municipalities have established governments in exiles, or shadow governments, with a headquarters at the Schuylkill Mall. If you stop by the Mall the headquarters is located near K-Mart. Inside the headquarters one can stop and talk to the various unofficial officials, their staff and solicitors. This year as a fund raiser you can get your child’s photo taken on the Mayor of Arnot’s Addition’s lap.

Now back to the tree. Some ornaments were immediately rejected, such as Mount Carbon’s submission of two of its residents (who were supposedly “lit up like Christmas Trees” after leaving the Brett Michael’s concert). In their place, the Court house accepted an old Bavarian Beer bottle cap. The West Penn Township’s donation of a Pontiac hood ornament from its local auto junk yard was approved after the County’s Office of Weights and Measures got its scale out and declared the weight to be acceptable. The hood ornament is now on the fifth branch from the top (east side).

Alcoholic submissions got mixed signals. Porter Township’s submission of a bottle of Porter Ale was approved after the Treasurer’s Office gave a five cent deposit on the bottle’s safe return. Walker Township’s bottle of Johnny Walker Whiskey was deemed too heavy and mysteriously vanished, only to reappear a day later... but now empty.

From the trout family to all of youse:
Merry/Happy: Select one: __Christmas, __Hanukah, __Festivus,__ Kwanzaa,__ Solstice, __Boxing Day,___ (generic) Holiday... And to all a good night.

Conundrum

2010-12-06T19:51:00.000-08:00

"Conundrum"
That is a fancy word for puzzle or mystery. The conundrum I am facing was created by two opposing recent realities:
1. Mammy got a letter from the Social Security Administration which told her that her benefits are protected against inflation. By law they increase when there is a rise in the cost of living. The government measures changes in the cost of living through the Department of Labor’s Consumer Price Index (CPI). The CPI has not risen since the last cost-of-living adjustment was determined in 2008. As a result her benefits will not increase in 2011 (yes, Mammy is older than me, she is what is referred to as a cougar).
2. Pennsylvania lawmakers and judges are entitled to a cost of living pay increase due to inflation. Yes, I understand that there are different statistical data used for government officials than those used for the regular folks, but it is difficult to explain to others. Starting this month, the 1.6709 percent cost-of-living increase will boost a legislator’s salary to $79,623.23. I tried to remember what some of the fringe benefits included and found an old 2006 list, which included health care insurance, long term nursing home insurance, disability, dental, vision, and prescription insurance, $39,800 per year for expenses; $4,000 for postage, $141 a day stipend on legislative business; $7,800 for auto leasing, and some others including the golden cow – a defined benefit pension. These have all gone up since then I assume.

This puzzle can be referred to as a koan or paradox. But I told Mammy the solution to the koan is obvious, government officials have higher bills to pay than the rest of us. I told her to quit complaining and cut back on her Metamucil intake, try diluting it with more water or eat more dandelions. She can quite the Matlock fan club and save a few bucks on the dues. She can cut back on bleenies and order only five instead of six. We should be blessed that Schuylkill County has three representatives working for us in Harrisburg and they deserve every penny earned as well as those perks.

As for the appellate judges, Cadillacs, Lexuses, Mercedes Benz, and high end SUVs (including one leased by one Supreme Court Justice from his own brother) are expensive to maintain, even if the state pays for their monthly lease payments and reimburses them for mileage. Pennsylvania’s top judges are among the highest paid in the nation and I told Mammy that she should get down on her knees and thank the Lord above that this is so, and hopefully no other state will ever surpass us. I told her that she should check the price of Turtle Wax. It is through the roof.

Zerbe International Airport

2010-11-20T17:47:00.000-08:00

JOE ZERBE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, SCHUYLKILL COUNTY

Mammy just finished putting on bumper sticker, “I will give up the county code when they pry my cold, dead fingers from around it” on the back of our car. We then headed towards Minersville for an early Thanksgiving vacation in Allentown. We decided to fly out of Joe Zerbe International Airport because the round trip tickets were all I could get with my 100 books of S & H Green Stamps. It also seemed less hectic than driving on 78 with so many tractor trailers now delivering Chia Pets, clappers and other Christmas gifts to the various stores.

I let Mammy out with the luggage and then parked the car in the long term parking area. The shuttle bus took me to the terminal and I found Mammy. She was checking the luggage and arguing with the attendant. She insisted that our tickets guaranteed us seats in the smoking section of the plane. Apparently this was incorrect information we were given at the Pottsville S & H Green Stamp Redemption Center.

Since we arrived at the airport two hours we headed over to the duty-free gift shop where many unclaimed items that had fallen out of suitcases that opened up coming down the chute to the luggage carousel are sold. We bought several items that appeared to fit us which did not appear too soiled.

We had delicious red beet eggs at the food court. That is where Mammy thought she spotted the Pottsville Domino Pizza delivery man in his uniform. He told her she was correct but that he would be our pilot for the flight to Allentown.

Heading to the boarding terminal we saw the sign “absolutely no liquids!” I opened my carry on, took out my Red Bull and finished it off. Mammy did the same with her maple syrup.
New security rules require that every passenger get either groped or x-rayed.

I selected the groping, while Mammy selected the full body X-ray.
To make this groping procedure more pleasurable, each passenger is allowed to select which security agent will grope you.

I removed my turban and selected a young perky female that reminded me of one of the girls at Spa 61. I am positive that it was the same girl just from the feel of her hands on my body. After about five minutes of groping she asked me to turn my head and cough. She then told me to quickly move along. I was relieved that I did not have a hernia but I asked if that she better make sure as hernias run in the Trout family. I even offered her ten dollars, but she refused.
Mammy opted for the full naked body X-ray as she hates to be touched. The device used was the old x-ray machine from Raring’s Shoe Store on South Centre Street in Pottsville. Due to its age I was unsure of its safety, but I was relieved when I saw a certificate of safety placed on it by the County Office of Weights and Measures.

Mammy had to lie down on the conveyor belt as she went by the machine. She was elated when she passed the X- ray test on her first try for which the attendant gave her a “good job!” sticker. I purchased a copy of her naked body X-ray at the nearby both as a souvenir. It cost only three dollars. I bought a few extra to send to friends and relatives.

We finally boarded our plane and took off, cruising at an altitude of about one hundred feet. Everyone on the plane went “ooooh” as we passed over the Henry Clay Monument heading to Reading. I forgot to tell you that it wasn’t a direct flight and we had a ninety minute lay over and change of planes in Reading. Thus, we were never able to finish the in-flight movie, Jackass 2. I don’t know how it concludes. Maybe I will catch the ending on the flight back.

what's next?

2010-11-05T04:56:00.000-07:00

I have lectured for years on what I call “The Domino Theory.” I theorized that if one county came under the influence of home rule, then the surrounding counties would follow suit, discarding the county code. It was called the Domino Theory, not because of the pizza, but what I believe to be this falling domino principle.

Set up dominoes in a row, and then try knocking one over. What should happen is it that the others begin to fall, one after another. Try this experiment at work. Instead of wasting time on your computer or cell phone, bring an old fashioned domino game with you and place the pieces on the floor. Get your co-workers to join in the experiment.

Home rule already exists in several counties in Pennsylvania – Erie, Delaware, Lehigh, Lackawanna. Looking at the map of Pennsylvania, I decided to change the name of my theory from Domino to "The Twister Theory" since the state's home rule counties are not all contiguous. The name comes from the board game in which the players stretch all over a big plastic mat. Mammy and I actually met each other on a Twister plastic mat, so it has special meaning to me. Twister is a lot more fun than dominoes especially if you have the right partner.
Here is a good Youtube video to assist those of you not familar with the game: Twister.

The blasphemous evil, home rule, that began in other counties has now reached our northern border, with the voters recently passing the Home Rule referendum. Lehigh also borders us on the east and home rule is there also. We have double trouble.
Some locals may soon encourage the spread of this unholy doctrine here. As a fundamentalist (with emphasis on the first syllable) I believe that the County Code is something that must be respected and followed, and not discarded and replaced like a year-old telephone directory - remember that even old phone books may contain valuable unused money-saving coupons.

To combat this insidious influence that hovers around us, many suggestions have been proposed. Yes, it may be possible to set up refugee centers for shelter to those fleeing the approach of the menacing new government. Yes, we can beam radio and television programs into Luzerne County promoting the benefits of the three Commissioner form of government. Yes, we can circulate posters with the theme “Keep Calm and Carry On” to boost morale and relieve tensions within our county. Yes, we can commence an economic boycott and stop shopping in counties that have home rule. Shop locally, shop Renninger’s Market! Yes, we can also build an electric fence to protect our borders stretching from Ringtown to Andreas.

So many great ideas! So much time!
I know that I could never live under a governmental system that did not provide two elected ceremonial jury commissioners (one from each major party) and a variety of elected row officers. I would not want Mammy and our children, my children from my prior relationships, Mammy’s children from her prior relationships, and any other children I may have missed to live under such a system.

At this point in our 200 year old history I compare our plight to the plight of the ancient Israelites at the Macarana fortress and I am willing to make the same sacrifice that those defenders made to protect their way of life. I hope you feel the same as I do.

To those who think that I am exaggerating the evils of home rule, I say that it this only the first step down a slippery slope. Soon there will be an attempt to shrink the size of our state legislature and cut back on the legislative perks. After that will be an attempt to sell off the state store system. Maybe some smart-ass will even propose eliminating elected local tax collectors? Where will it end? The imposition of Sharia law? Why don't these people let well enough alone?

What's going on in Luzerne County?

2010-10-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

Here is an interesting video supporting the home rule charter in neighboring Luzerne County in this year's election. We should be grateful that our local paper does not offer any coverage on this issue as it could give local people some subversive ideas. I salute the paper's silent treatment and blackout. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
This blog is being offered as a public service to the few readers that are interested in life beyond the borders of Schuylkill County and the dangers that could spread over the border.
However I must warn you that this video may shock you. But after watching it, we must all hope that the Luzerne rebellion will be crushed as it was crushed twice before. Our coal region status quo must continue for at least another thousand years. Now is the time for our citizenry to stand behind the County Commissioners of Luzerne County and others who are now under attack.
I personally plan to organize a brigade of volunteers to head up to Luzerne County and protect the offices of the elected row offices especially the jury commissioners...at least the office of the one jury commissioner presently not under indictment. Volunteer guards are also needed at the besieged juvenile detention center.
Mammy Trout has promised to make chow chow and send it up feed the volunteers who will ship out to Luzerne soon. She is only one woman and cannot do it alone. Grating cabbage is very tiring. She is calling on the women of Schuylkill County to help her. Besides the immediate need for chow chow, requests have come in from as far away as Shickshinny for city chicken and bleenies.
A Recruiting Station will be at the Schuylkill Mall (inside the former location of Spencer Gifts, at the counter where the battery operated whoopie cushions used to be displayed). Please stop by and volunteer. Monetary contributions are also welcomed.
I cannot stand by and watch our beloved county code be held up to ridicule any longer. Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their county (and neighboring county). We can once again reclaim the title as first defenders. Remember the words of former Luzerne County Commissioner Greg Skrepenak, "its not the fault of the system, you just need to elect good people." Mammy plans to send him a jar of chow chow while he is incarcerated at a West Viriginia federal prison.
If you cannot see video below, go to Luzerne County Rising

The Maroon Cheerleaders

2010-10-18T19:30:00.000-07:00

The Untold Story of the Pottsville Maroon Cheerleaders

Before the 1925 NFL championship season, the Pottsville Maroon cheerleader squad was composed of only unemployed coal miners. In fact it was not until 1920 that women won the right to cheerlead when the 19th Amendment to the Constitution was finally ratified.

"The right of citizens of the United States to cheerlead shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex."

Seeing cheerleaders was rarely a reason to watch a football game prior to the Constitution being amended, unless one was interested in watching dusty laidoff coal miners jump up and down. In 1924 it was decided that the cheerleading squad needed a new image and a decision was made to drop the miners and select an all female squad from the local garment factories in the Pottsville-Minersville area. This shrewd decision was based on "Dr. John" Striegel’s idea that a change to the cheerleader image was necessary to boost attendance. Apparently goldfish swallowing and flag-pole sitting were catching on in the coal region, luring many football fans away from the games. Now that the Maroons were going to be part of the NFL, it would be embarrassing for the franchise team to have lower radio ratings than amateur gold fish swallowing and amateur flag pole sitting. Radio coverage on WPPA of both of these crazes was pushing football off of the airwaves. Something had to be done.

The Miss Pennsylvania factory was selected to totally redesign the cheerleader outfits. Gone would be the heavy boots, bib overalls, and miner’s helmets. At first babuskas, woolen overcoats and arctic boots were experimented with, but within two weeks a more modern, feminine flapper-type outfit was chosen –daring for the times. Apparently the mostly male audience desired to see a little more flesh and an exposed calf would have to do, to the outrage of many of the local clergy who gave sermons on the ruination of western civilization if the lower back of a woman’s leg was exposed on or off the playing field.

That spring hundreds of young women converged at Kings’ Plaza where the Maroons played their games to audition; all sharing a single dream of being selected. The preliminaries, semi-finals and finals of the auditioning process were all held in that parking lot and resulted in twelve young women being picked to head off to Cheerleading Training Camp high atop Sharp Mountain. The process of turning civilian garment workers into professional cheerleaders has been described as a form of conditioning in which the inductees are encouraged to submerge their individuality for the good of the squad and the results were obvious.

For six grueling weeks, these candidates were transformed from fragile whiny and annoying young girls to powerfully disciplined young women, rehearsing for ten hour days, six days a week. Their diet consisted of football staples such as nacho cheese sauce, funnel cake and soft pretzels and it showed.

Besides the physical endurance, the candidates attended classes on grooming and personal hygiene, and diction. The latter was most important as the cheerleaders had to perfect the Schuylkill County dialect. They studied under the tutelage of language professors and anthropologists every Saturday from one o’clock until three thirty, or as one would say “one o’clock ‘til tree turdy.” Time would be spent mastering such common words such as dis, dat, dem, dese, dose, dere, dat dere. Ain’t that right?

In 1925 the revamped cheerleader squad debuted to the loud roar of approval from those in attendance at the games as well as from the patrons of Radzievich’s supermarket and Palarmo’s Restaurant who happened to be there during game time.

These girls were hot!

With the help of the reinvented cheerleaders, the Maroons went on to win the NFL championship that year by distracting the opposing teams with their pom poms, human pyramids and exposed calf muscles.

The rest is history and the stuff that legends are made of.

North or South of the Mountain

2010-10-03T13:53:00.000-07:00

Schuylkill County’s devotion to the Three Stooges is unsurpassed. The eye poking, the slaps on the face, the ear pulling. Yes, we the simple people of Schuylkill County can never get enough of that stuff. For decades every television set during the B.C. period of time (Before Computer), were all turned on to the Stooges. It didn’t matter if you watched with rabbit ears or on Trans-Video, Shen-Tel, Comcast or peered through your neighbor’s window. You had to see them to believe them.

Over the years there were many attempts to honor these gentlemen in the County despite the unwritten rule that only living local politicians, school directors or bureaucrats are to be honored by having streets, bridges and buildings named after them. In Pottsville the city councilmen unanimously rejected a proposal of having Claude Lord Boulevard renamed to Curly Way, but council did throw a bone to the masses by dedicating “Howard Avenue” in honor of Moe, Curly and Shemp Howard. These were the three sibling stooges. It was a safe way to get re-elected; don’t offend anyone. By naming it Howard Avenue, the councilmen avoided taking a stand in the warring faction between the residents favoring Curly over Shemp.

You see, Schuylkill County was and still is a very provincial area. The Broad Mountain, where Necho Allen discovered enlightenment, basically separates the county into two, and the differences between the populations of those living “north of the mountain” from those living “south of the mountain” are quite obvious.

Those living on the north drive on the right side of the road, while those living on south drive on the left. Those living in the north use the term “hoagie,” while those to the south prefer the term “submarine sandwich.” In the north it is impolite to chew gum while talking, and in the South it is impolite to talk while chewing gum. In the north apples are eaten to keep a doctor away; in the south apples are eaten solely for the fiber content. If a doctor fails to come around, so be it, the doctor is more likely to be your neighbor. Those living north of the mountain eat “halupkies” while those on the south side dine on “stuffed cabbage.” Those north of the mountain wear “dinkies” and those on the south don “knitted caps” (with designer logos). Those to the north use “sweepers” and those in the south use “vacuum cleaners.” In the North Alphabet Soup is in Cyrillic, but not so in the South. I could go on and on.

However, when the topic is “who is your favorite Stooge?” the North’s support for one particular Stooge was unmatched. Yes, the South overwhelmingly favored Curly, while the North held him in contempt, considering him to be the fraudulent Stooge – an imposter, a fake, a phony, a pretender to the throne, a charlatan. I could go on and on. The North was unwavering in its support of Shemp. Just click on Google Earth you will locate the village of Shempton, north of the Broad Mountain, made famous in the 1960’s as the scene of the legendary Shempton Mine Disaster, where rescue efforts ceased every day when it was time for TV celebrity Sally Starr to host a Stooge film. When the film ended, discussions of its meaning would follow before rescue work resumed. This is one theory as to why not everyone got out of the mine.

Yes, there were isolated pockets of support for other Stooges north of the Mountain, but they were far and in between. Who can forget the misguided attempt to have Shenandoah re-named Shen-Moe? The instigator stood up at the council meeting with his placard with the words, “Just Say Moe.” I certainly cannot forget. Thankfully dozens of Kiethan Bakery pies were hurled at him and he left town.

To this day, the name remains as Shen-Doe.

my staycation: the city fountain

2010-09-15T16:22:00.000-07:00

I took some photographs this summer during my Pottsville stay-cation. The one above is the world-famous fountain where legend has it, if you toss coins over your shoulder into its waters, you will return to Pottsville one day and the more coins you throw in the longer the stay. Yes, I am talking about the fountain at the corner of South Centre Street and Mahantongo Street. Not many coins in the fountain unfortunately. Mammy took this photograph. She could have gotten a little closer.

Yes, eye catching fountains are a must-have thing for any self-respecting city that wants to attract tourists and Pottsville has one of the best. Top notch. Jim Dandy. Awesome. What more can I say? Perhaps, “nifty.” This unnamed fountain was built in the 1970s with “Revenue Sharing” money that flooded into the area from Washington, D.C. Some say it is unnamed because no one wants to be associated with it, but that is just an urban legand. But it certainly is one piece of the “history of the 1970s” that when you see it, you’ll want to cry.

Yes, this artificially produced jet of water was bigger than I expected. From the postcards I had received over the years I thought it would be smaller. I stood there in awe. Yes, it did bring to my mind Versailles, the seat of the Sun King, Louis XIV, I have to admit that. The sumptuous use of water along Centre Avenue (note the French spelling of the word center) could not be otherwise.

At night I did get the opportunity to view the entertainment options that the fountain offers one's senses. At 9 PM every evening during the summer months the fountain offers a mesmerizing show of water, music and light, all interwoven to romance your senses. I promised Mammy we would return again next summer as we were so impressed. Try to imagine watching this fountain dancing to the rhythms of such 70s songs such as “Muskrat Love, “Kung Fu Fighting” and “Macho Man.” Unbelievable.Stupendous. Astounding. What more can I say. Wicked, perhaps, but that is it."

All of this is done for sheer entertainment, free of charge. It is an ambitiously choreographed complex water show set against the beautiful backdrop of the city’s closed public restrooms. Very clever indeed. There is no other municipal water fountain that offers the same scope, spectacle and emotional impact as this downtown city fountain.

There are some nay sayers, such as my brother-in-law who said, when first viewing the fountain, “Is that a leak in the building or was there a fire?” Municipal Jealousy! What more can I say. Perhaps,”cosmopolitan covetness.” Please ignore those architectural ignoramouses (ignoramice?).

How does one then summarize the Pottsville fountain to the novice? With the flux of tourists waiting to arrive at the soon-to-open Intermodal bus station, a summary is needed quickly….. It is a simple combination of a basin and a spout. It is this simplicity that draws the viewer inward. The water that feeds into the fountain comes from the Norwegian Creek, the mysterious natural underground spring that runs below the surface of the land we call home, and this natural spring only appears to the visible eye at the Ryon Insurance Company parking lot where hundreds flock because of the water’s supposed healing abilities. That is a topic for another blog.

This simple fountain, although less flashy than its sister fountains in Rome or Paris, makes a passerby totally relax, creating an atmosphere that is stress-free, and forget the loss of Pottsville’s past.

Schuylkill County History: Chapter Four

2010-09-01T01:08:00.000-07:00

THE CIVIL WAR

When the Civil War broke out in (I think) the middle of the 19^th century. The North (our side) was caught off guard. Our troops were ill-suited for combat. I mean ill-suited literally, as the uniforms that were available tended to droop, making it difficult for the men to march long distances to such southern places as Bull Run, Fredericksburg, Chattanooga or Dollywood.

Schuylkill County was noted, not only for its numerous "hose houses" which feature, to this day, beer bologna floating in a jar of some unknown liquid, but also for its many hosiery mills and garment factories.

When the South (the other side) seceded from the Union, these factories were just in their infancy. In fact, the most notable local garment factory, Phillips Van Heusen, was not yet even opened.

It was indeed a primitive time for the garment industry. There were no designer jeans, no big pecker tee shirts, no Iverson Jerseys, no spandex tights and no tube tops. It was not until after the Civil War that our garment industry took off in full force to bless us with those clothing items.

Yes, there actually was a time in which clothes were made here in the United States, strange as it may sound. And to top it off, Schuylkill County was the epi-center of this fledgling garment industry. Big pecker tee shirts were meticulously stitched by hand right here with patience, skill and a lot of love, probably by many of your mothers or grandmothers; not mass produced in some far-away third world sweatshop.

So when the cry came out for assistance in keeping the soldiers’ trousers from drooping, the women of Schuylkill County banded together to help these local volunteers. The Pottsville Ladies’ Soldiers’ Aid Society created what was would come to be known as “The First Suspenders.” I believe that this effort was led by local native, Amanda Silliman. I am unsure as most of written history ignores contributions by women. That is why it is called His-tory. Through its efforts, local donations, consisting of wooden boxes, filled with suspenders, were sent to the soldiers at the front. No longer would our troops shuffle and meander along because of droopy trousers; now they were able to move at a fast pace. In fact these suspenders are credited for the success of Sherman’s March and also the recognition of race-walking as an Olympics event.

As we all know from grade school, suspenders were first invented in 1822 by Albert Thurston; soon the women of the area began to make thousands of them. They began their project after April 12, 1861, when the Governor of Pennsylvania received a tweet in these words:

OMG! The war is commenced :(

Twittering, in the 19th century, was limited to six words or less, and that is all the news that the Governor received for the next three days.

On April 15th President Abraham Lincoln, on Facebook, issued a proclamation to his entire network calling out the state militia and a request for volunteers. He wanted 75,000 troops. Schuylkill County, at the time had a population of about 90,000 and about 13,000 of the residents eventually volunteered as soldiers of the Union (our side).

Schuylkill County gave one of the largest percentages of volunteers. Yes, some signed up to get out of the house, and others joined because they were the President's Facebook buddies, but most volunteered due to a strong sense of patriotism and a love of country.

They loved this nation and did not want it broken into two. Soon about 500 Schuylkill County men passed through Baltimore on their way to the protect our Nation's Capitol. They marched right through, missing the Orioles game and passing up the Dolphin Show at the Aquarium. Lucky for them, as many Baltimorioles were sympathetic to the South and many more were upset over the Orioles being shut out by the Philadelphia Athletics. They began to hurl bricks and stones at our fast moving troops. One stone hit Pottsville resident, Nicholas Biddle on the head while he was playing his banjo. Our troops, however, were fast enough to get away from the crowd and those rebel-rousers were unable to keep up because of their own droopy trousers. Before long our men arrived in the Capitol and were welcomed by their Facebook friend, Abraham Lincoln. Nicholas Biddle, although the first to shed blood in the Civil War, would eventually fade into oblivion, dying penniless and forgotten. He was never able to cash in on his fifteen minutes of fame.

Read more about him though at this website: Nicholas Biddle.

*WARNING – SPOILER ALERT! The ending to the civil war will be revealed! STOP NOW if you don't know what happens next

The North would win the war and the Union would be preserved. Slavery would be abolished. The South would remain depressed and forgotten until 2010 when the New Orleans Saints won the Superbowl. Incidentally, droopy pants would make a comeback in the last decade of the twentieth century when suspenders went out of style. The last man to wear suspenders regularly was the little drummer boy of Company A, 96th Pennsylvania Infantry by the name of Larry King. He is the man of the last suspenders. And that is the rest of the story.

leave all 67 of us alone

2010-08-17T05:25:00.000-07:00

I was reading House Bill 2431 which was introduced in our legislature for the asinine purpose of consolidating local governments into their respective county governments. It was in the August 1^st Republican Herald.

It made me sick to my stomach.

I thought of the sacrifices made by our service men and women who protect our way of life here in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, the Keystone State, where we can still enjoy a myriad of government officials, their administrative staffs, their workers and assorted hanger-ons - all duplicating services for us, the little people.

Now someone politician wants to take this right away from us.

Well excuse me. I feel sick again.

I don’t want history to repeat itself. I know what happened to Yorkville one hundred years ago. It was once a thriving metropolis, the heart of Germanic culture in Schuylkill County. It had its own government, led by Der Bürgermeister, its own administrative staff, its own schools, its own road crew, its own polizeikraft, its own Hundefänger, and its own currency. In a blink of an eye, all of that was taken away.

The promise that the Yorkvillians would retain their cultural heritage was immediately broken. Immediately the Pottsville City council outlawed German chocolate cake, lederhosen, and techno music – yes, techno music. The only thing left remaining was beer drinking. But the worst was that Yorkville bureaucrats were forced to find employment in the free market. The Yorkville tax collector I understand, when confronted with having to find honest employment, had to be institutionalized, thereby depriving another person of a needed bed at the local asylum. Yes, there still is only one county asylum rather than 67 asylums.... just another reason I am against consolidation.

While the obliteration of Yorkville is widely known, the conquest of Rahn Township, in the east end of Schuylkill County (yes, there really is an east end), has been kept a secret. A top secret.

Rahn Township was a civilization far more advanced than our own. It was a peaceful community with superior knowledge, thriving commerce and advanced technology. Archaeologists have verified that the eight track cartridge was widely used in Rahn Township over one hundred years ago, substantiating the claim of scientific advancement. There is very little other evidence of Rahn Township’s glory days left. Perhaps a few stones from one of the sacred wells or the altar to Poseidon, but that is about it. Despite rumors, there is no proof that Rahnites grew extraterrestrial wheat but the lack of evidence does not extinguish the legend surrounding Rahn Township.

No one predicted the fall of Rahn civilization, but it happened.

The consolidation of Tamaqua with Rahn Township was meant to save tax dollars. A very benign endeavor... “Building permits would be issued from only one department rather than two”... was the rallying cry. Thus began the slide on the slippery slope to oblivion. Within a few years Rahn Township was no more. Its few surviving natives were led off to make the back flaps for the thermal underwear in the factories of Tamaqua, never to return home. The altar to Poseidon was leveled and all the eight track cartridges destroyed.

This is why House bill 2431 must be defeated. Remember that consolidating local governments will eliminate many good paying jobs that have both defined benefit pension plans and other fringe benefits, such as pet bereavement leave. Many of these jobs have been held by families generation after generation. By increasing government we will be increasing employment.

We should be encouraging more local government as an economic stimulus package. For instance Schuylkill Haven could be easily split into several independent municipalities – Smoketown, Columbia Heights and the Irish Flats for starters; each with its own police force, solicitor’s office, dog catcher and street department. Likewise in St. Clair, Arnot’s Addition is just itching for independence, you can see it in the sullen eyes of its downtrodden citizenry.

I don’t want to hear any more bullsh*t about consolidation. I want more layers of inefficient governments, not less. It is our tax money and we should be able to waste it as we see fit. Inefficiency is part of our Pennsylvanian heritage and we must fight to protect it. Local government in Schuylkill County is a beautiful mosaic of 67 distinct units, often compared to the AIDS quilt, and we need to protect every one of those units.

I don’t care that our fragmented system of local government is out of touch with the 21^st century as I always thought that the 19^th century was great (except for the civil war). If Pennsylvania is running out of money then legalize and tax other forms of gambling. Rooster fighting for starters, but please, just let every one of our 67 local tax collectors count the money.

requiem for a peanut roll

2010-08-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

Special to the Beansoup for the Soul Blog
Pottsville, Aug 1(AP) – The special County Grand Jury today convened to investigate charges of chocolate candy hoarding against several individuals, all violations of Section 6 of the Pottsville Candy Control Act, alleged to have large quantities of peanut rolls, nonpareils, and chocolate covered cherries in their possession.
In a statement issued by the City of Pottsville’s Surgeon General, it was alleged that the candy hoarding was apparently sufficient to maintain a family for a year and hence far in excess of the requirements for seven days, the period recognized by the City as a “reasonable” for residents during this time of crisis.
This is the first investigation of individual candy hoarding which became illegal after the sudden and abrupt closing of Mootz Candy Store, which created pandemonium in the county seat and elsewhere. With the announcement of the close of Mootz Candy Store, panic and fear took hold of the population. Long lines formed to purchase the remaining candy supplies at fifty per cent off (see photograph above), thus allowing the lucky ones to consume twice as much chocolate, but leaving the majority of us without enough chocolate to survive. The line at the store was reported to be larger than the bleenie line in Shenandoah on social security day according to an anonymous reliable source.
The crisis was unparalleled in modern Pottsville History in terms of scope, size and violence. It was more violent than the Cartoon Riots that occurred in Garfield Square over ten years ago when a passerby questioned the chastity of little orphan Annie, who was beloved by the citizenry. The Cartoon riots lasted five days, ending with the pillaging and destruction of the Garfield School building, often compared to the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem.

The initial protest over the candy shortage occurred along Centre Street, spilling northwards towards Jalappa and southwestward towards Bunker Hill. Starting with peaceful petitioning, the disturbance quickly escalated to riots and looting. The police were able to quell the disturbances within twenty-four hours with the assistance of the city K-9 corps and meter maids.
City Hall issued a press release stating that the police are ready at all times to proceed against hoarders, regardless of their social standing, and that charges will be filed to the end. It is alleged that one house on Greenwood Hill was recently raided, revealing a garage with 10 barrels of dark fudge, 7 barrels of white fudge, 5 barrels of maple walnut fudge, 105 pounds of non-pareils, 100 pounds of chocolate covered pretzels and 75 pounds of gumdrops.
Neighbors are reporting neighbors who are discovered to be burying large quantities of peanut rolls in backyards; all as a result of the reward money posted by the city.
The Surgeon General hopes that with the opening of the Intermodal Transportation Center busses will be available for those wanting to travel to Hershey in order to obtain the sought after chocolate.

With the approaching extinction of quality retail stores in the county, discussions are underway for a second hand candy store to open at the former Mootz location. When asked what a second hand candy store is, a PADCO representative said "a store that sells old candy past its expiration date, but at a deep discount; I prefer not to refer to it as stale candy; hopefully there will be candy cigarettes, Sugar Babies, Sky Bars, Mary Janes, fizzies, Bonomo turkish taffy, jujubes and wax lips. Such candy would be appropriate in a historical district... especially the wax lips which could add some long needed color to Centre Street."

sad news on the fate of the Mahantongo Street tree

2010-07-17T18:44:00.000-07:00

It was most one of the dastardly deeds to befall the city of Pottsville. Some compared it to demolition of the Capitol Theatre, others compared it to the destruction of the old Y Building. However the city’s famed shade tree was cut down in the prime of its life, just as it was beginning to reach the rooftop of 802 Mahantongo Street.
Some may call it wanton vandalism. Others may call it domestic terrorism, I call it a political assassination. Yes, there is a heated tree contest going on in the city of Pottsville right now. With the fall of the axe, the Mahantongo Street tree is out of the competition.
And I was going to be the tree’s campaign manager – the Karl Rove of the tree competition, but now it is all over.

I was going to ask you, the readers who have wasted so much time reading this blog, to support the magnificent deciduous tree in its quest to be recognized as the official city tree.
Why, you ask, should anyone vote for that tree and not some other tree? What made the 802 Mahantongo Street tree so special?

No,it’s not because some believe (such as I) that this tree had mystical powers.

No, it’s not because of the legend that city founder John Pott sat under its branches for 49 days attempting to achieve enlightenment.

No, it is not because the tree has often been mistaken for the Cedars of Lebanon, Pennsylvania.

No, it is not because this tree inspired John O’Hara to move off of the street, relocate to Princeton and start drinking heavily.

It is simply because the tree represented our future.

Some have compared the Mahantongo and Norwegian street areas of Pottsville to Georgetown or Rittenhouse Square. I hope they are wrong. A tree such as the one at 802 Mahantongo Street would never have survived in those types of neighborhoods.

If people want to see a neighborhood full of prestige, charm and cleanliness, then I say let them go down to the Intermodal Transportation Center and get the hell out of town on some excursion trip to what they consider some yuppie wonderland.
What our city lacks in charm is made up tenfold in grittiness.
The tree was just one glorious living and breathing example of the mindset that sets us apart from say, Jim Thorpe or Lititz. It was our symbol of regret and missed opportunity. When visitors tour Mahantongo Street after visiting the brewery, this tree captured their imagination. It was the second most popular tourist attraction in the city according to the Visitors’ Bureau statistics. This is why our campaign slogan was going to be “Gritty, Grimy, Gloomy and Great!”* Now the visitors will have to be content to visit the large three story ladder on six hundred block which has been permanently affixed there as some sort of pop artwork until our tree rises once again from the earth.

There is a tendency in many societies throughout history to worship or mythologize trees; trees have played an important role in giving deep and sacred meaning throughout the ages. Driving on Mahantongo Street over the years I have carefully observed the growth of this tree from a baby sapling. I marveled at the elasticity of its branches, its shyness as it hugged the building wall, its annual decay and revival, and the way it arched its way through the porch up to the heavens. It’s rustling of its innumerable leaves was a spell of music, a funeral durge to be exact, to passerbys.

I will miss that tree and the skank culture it brought to the once high falutin street. And now the tree is gone, just a memory. Just as Nancy Kerrigan was knocked out of the ice skating competition by Tanya Harding, our beloved tree was most likely done in by a worried competitor. Maybe the tree could still win the contest posthumously if you really care enough.

*slogan is now available for other candidates to use.

Courthouse Cookbook

2010-07-01T05:09:00.000-07:00

Mammy Trout is so excited about the Schuylkill County Cookbook being prepared which will feature some of the best of Schuylkill County cuisine, the foods that have made us what we are today as - you are what you eat. I always think of that line when I am at JFK Pool, looking around at the crowd. If we are what we eat, then many of us swimmers must be hams or butterball turkeys.
Yes, the cookbook will contain more than just recipes for halushki, beer nuts, birch beer and scrapple; no, many interesting quotes and words of wisdom are also included. Here is a sampling:
“Never eat more than you can lift.”
“Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish and he will sit in a boat & drink beer all day.”
“If you fatten up everyone else around you, then you look thinner.”

Riddles are also included:
“Why don’t cannibals eat clowns? Because they taste funny.
“What can you make from baked beans and onions?” Tear gas.

Yes, the cookbook will present exemplary instruction of preparation of the savory mainstream dishes from all corners of the county, offering 1,000s of recipes without being burdened down with any dull, dumb nutritional information…borrr-ing… Instead the book has many baloney recipes submitted by local politicians, who are full of them. You will also find the sought after courthouse recipes for Prothonocherry ice cream, D.A. Split Plea Soup and Coroner's triple bacon burger.

The book will be great for cooks of all levels. It has a lot of great introductory information - how do you boil water? Can you stick your head in the microwave while it is on? Can you use bacon fat as a cake frosting substitute? Should you plug in your defibrillator before or after your super-sized bacon burger? What do you do if you run out of booze? Is it socially acceptable to practice the Heimlich maneuver during a County Commissioner meeting?

In addition, the book will ease you into many advanced recipes.

Looking to cook pig’s stomach for the annual Pine Grove Sadie Hawkins Day race?

This book will have all of the answers that you have been looking for over the years, from start to finish - from wrestling the pig to the ground, to breaking its neck, to gutting and removing the organs properly.

Trying to make a special dinner celebrating your babe’s new tramp stamp tattoo?

This cookbook has the right onion ring recipes for that happy occasion, all easy to understand and with gorgeous photos of local natives sipping on ice tea while they eat a handful of the tasty treats.

Having trouble rolling your own cigarettes to save on the high taxes?

I will leave you with a free sneak peak at this courthouse recipe:

1. Spread the tobacco out evenly on the rolling surface, preferably your desk at work.
2. Take your rolling paper and rest it with the crease between your thumb and middle finger, then rest your index finger in the crease to hold the paper down on whichever hand is not holding your cell phone or working a crossword puzzle.
3. Then using your free hand, begin at one end of the tobacco and delicately place the paper starting with the end you are holding it with.
4. Take a hold of the paper with the other hand (placing your cell phone between your jaw and your shoulder) again resting it between your middle finger and thumb.
5. Position the middle fingers so they roughly form a straight line from one end to the other.
6. Now using the thumbs, beginning rolling the cigarette between your thumb and middle fingers, doing this slow and evenly.

7. After the tobacco food product has been molded into the proper shape, pull your thumbs downward to have the edge of the paper align with the top of the tobacco.

8. Increase the pressure applied by the thumbs while moving the middle fingers upward, completing the rotation without creasing the bottom of the paper.
9. Complete the roll until the edge with the glue remains. Apply with a small streak of saliva (preferably your own rather than a co-worker who has been coughing up phlegm for days unexplainably).
10. Pinch off any loose tobacco at the ends and put back in your pouch for later use.
11. Get up from your desk and head outside. Place the unlit end in your mouth and enjoy! Smoke that cigarette for approximately 10-12 minutes before returning to work.
12. Repeat every hour.

Hegins Coleman Shoot Cancelled

2010-06-15T06:19:00.000-07:00

The passing of Gary Coleman did not go unnoticed in Schuylkill County. It seemed to be the second biggest talk of the area, right behind the Pottsville Republican Shenandoah Herald’s front page May 30th article on the New Philadelphia ramage involving Somali pirates. Ironically, the article was retracted the next day, but it sure did liven up an otherwise dull weekend.

The story on the passing of Gary Coleman was not retracted. The paper still stands behind it.

The sleepy village of Hegins took the loss of Mr.Coleman especially hard; flags were all lowered to quarter mast, the general feed store was closed and the chickens refused to lay eggs. The child actor, known for his innocent, charming role as Arnold Jackson in the situation comedy “Diff’rent Strokes” was a cause célèbre in this section of the west end, where the citizenry could not get enough of that long-running television show about the misadventures of a rich Manhattan family who adopt the children of their late African-American maid. Up and down the streets one could hear that catch phrase, “What'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" being spoken with a heavy Pennsylvania Dutch accent.
Hegins is different than neighboring Valley View where its population swears allegiance to the geeky Urkel, the character on the popular rival show, Family Matters. This is obvious to anyone driving through Valley View, where just about everyone wears suspenders, while in Hegins belts are worn.
To this day, Sociologists are stumped as to why the difference in opinion between these two conjoined farm hamlets, differences which, at times, erupted into a full fledged, old-fashioned, west end feud.

A review of the history of the villages reveals that at one time, in the 1940s, the popularity of the character Buckwheat from the Our Gang series united the two villages, but with the advent of television, Valley View and Hegins, began to distance themselves from one another. In the 1960s Hegins was beholden to Jerry “The Beaver” Mathers, while Valley View gravitated to his side-kick, Lumpy Rutherford. It got worse as time went on. In fact the scuffles at the pigeon shoot later involved those disciples of Urkel that dispised Gary Coleman and everything he stood for.

Yep, just as Bob Hope was feted with a golf tournament with his name attached, and just as Jim Thorpe had a Pennsylvania county seat named after him, Gary Coleman had a Pigeon Shoot christened in his honor at Hegins. Yes, the Gary Coleman Hegins Pigeon Shoot occurred every Labor Day drawing throngs of fans of Diff’rent Strokes, and those protestors that favored Urkel. Most of the protestors can be seen in the newspaper wearing suspenders. The newspapers got the storyline all wrong and linked the protestors to animal rights, just like the paper recently got the New Philadelphia scuffle all wrong.

Heck, everyone I know is in favor of shooting defenseless birds.

Although the Shoot was named after Gary Coleman, he never attended one event there. But one must remember that Jim Thorpe never set foot in old Mauch Chunk (at least not while he was alive).
Mr. Coleman, at times, would deny any connection with the Shoot, answering any reporter’s questions rhetorically as with his standard line of “What'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

With the passing of Mr. Coleman, it appears that the Hegins Pigeon Shoot will now fold. The high elders of the village will soon meet in emergency session and begin to search for a child actor replacement to rally the people around. I also understand that the shoot will be replaced with a wine and cheese party. Our forebearers would roll over in their graves if they heard that people would gather and eat fondue and drink french wine. Yes, just another downward spiral in the collapse of our culture.

Maybe this time though, the two villages can come to some agreement. It is time for unity.

Pottsville and the UFO (part 2)

2010-06-01T07:41:00.000-07:00

The recent release of the photograph of the UFO hovering over the county seat has created pandemonium in the anthracite community. Panic like this has not been seen in Pottsville since the closing of the S&H Green Stamp Store in the early 1960s.
An emergency city meeting was recently held at the City’s Planetarium* headed by city officials, the City’s Surgeon General, the leading local astrophysicists and cosmetologists, as well as several other know-it-alls. It is the most serious space crisis since Pluto was ejected from the solar system or, some say, the death of Freddy Mercury.

The county newspaper was still clinging to the theory that the UFO was merely a Chinese lantern released by the Pottsville Drama Club. Yet the results of a recent survey indicate that only 4% of the county residents believe in that explanation, well behind the 78% who believe that the alien spaceship was real.
Attendance at the May Fair was well below normal due to fear the aliens were planning to harvest attendees as a food supply, fattening them on funnel cake. Funnel cake sales were way down at the festival. West end farmers’ wheat crop is now going unpurchased due to the lack of demand for funnel cake. An economic tumble is now occurring. Summer jobs for the county youth in the seasonal funnel cake industry are practically non-existent. Calls for a federal funnel cake bail-out are being heard from the candidates of both major political parties.
Many attending the contentious Planetarium meeting reportedly had seen what appeared to be an alien corpse in the window of Kep’s Corner Store; they demanded answers, not content to believe the newspaper account that it was merely “a pretty window display.” Many were now afraid to play the daily lottery for fear of being abducted and made into some sort of cosmic soufflé.
There were so many questions to be answered. The Surgeon General responded as best he could, since he had just arrived from the Eagle’s Club and wasn’t feeling very well. He assured the crowd that a city ordinance enacted in the late 1950s already prohibits the display of alien corpses in any commercial window.
“I have carefully examined the remains of the androgynous humanoid found in Kep’s window, and folks, it was not an alien but rather a blow-up doll purchased in North Manheim Township. I had plans to perform a full autopsy but I was fearful that the thing would deflate upon only the slightest incision, and I also needed to purchase my Powerball ticket. I performed quick cursory physical examination and it is safe to walk the streets.”

Hands quickly shot up in the audience.

"No one walks anymore!"

“Will an alien invasion cause any school delays?”

“Will the moon walk be permitted at the next American Way Fair?”

“If the aliens settle in Schuylkill County, is it too late to have them included in the census?”

“Is Pottsville now another Roswell?”

While answers were being given, many chanted “Baloney!” At first it was thought they were hecklers, but later it was determined that they were just hungry. The cafeteria staff quickly distributed cold cut sandwiches.
A school district administrator believed the meeting a success, as the fear of alien abduction diverted attention from the pending new school dress code which forbad, for the first time, low cut astronaut suits.

A spokesman for PADCO offered to pay for a proper burial of the humanoid’s remains. This led to a heated discussion and it was decided that the alien in the window would be sent floating down the underground Norwegian Crik by being tossed in the water’s opening near the Ryon Insurance Agency.
At the conclusion of the meeting the moderator announced that anyone wishing to watch “Dancing With the Stars” should leave the Planetarium first to avoid any traffic delays as the show was going to start in approximately fifteen minutes. With that announcement, a stampede began and the Planetarium emptied within two minutes.

A few lingered behind, still despondent over the fact that Buzz Aldrin had been voted off the popular tv show.

*the planetarium has yet to be named after a school board director.

Forest Hills

2010-05-15T11:31:00.000-07:00

Forest Hills was created in the early 1960s when Pottsville wanted more room for the expansion of public housing and to recreate itself. A relocation and movement of the city’s middle class was determined as the best way to accomplish this goal. This resettlement program, freeing the center city of the middle class, is referred to in the city’s history as 'the Trail of Tears'. It was also during this period that Penn State Schuylkill was told to leave the city.
This project did not occur without a hitch as Forest Hills is cut off from the rest of the city by the borough of Mount Carbon. You see, Forest Hills is not joined to the rest of Pottsville; its sort of like Alaska. Alaska is cut off by Canada for those of you geographically illiterate.
Study a map of the area carefully (Schuylkill County, not Alaska); use a microscope if necessary. A tiny independent governmental entity named “Mount Carbon” actually exists and splits Pottsville into two. I swear to this upon my grandmother’s grave.

Mount Carbon has often been referred to as the Lichtenstein of Schuylkill County, in that it is a small, mountainous tax haven, having more businesses than residents. It is sometimes affectionately called “Tiny Town.”
The population of Mount Carbon is difficult to determine as some statistics include patrons of the local taverns who stay too long, those buried in the cemeteries, and the lobsters in the seafood store.

The road from Pottsville Proper to Forest Hills traverses Mount Carbon and this ticked off Mount Carbonites, who were envious of the tax base, creating a crisis. It appears that Pottsville, Mount Carbon and North Manheim Township all claimed parts of the settled territory.
Forest Hills was to be a middle-class residential oasis, devoid of any commercial buildings or eating establishments. Yep, no soup kitchens, no tattoo parlors, no nothing. Zippo. Therefore, the residents were dependent on Mount Carbon for pizza, hoagies, chips, seafood, and beer.
Mount Carbon began to build a wall around Forest Hills and also started a blockade. In response, city officials organized a helicopter mission to carry the daily necessities of life as mentioned to the citizens of Forest Hills. Likewise, Forest Hillites dug tunnels to get to Goodfella’s and Julian’s taverns and bring back snack foods as well as companionship. Some of the tunnels are still visible today.
The effort was clearly succeeding and by April of the following year the Mount Carbon officials capitulated when Mayor Stephenson gave his stirring “tear down this wall” speech and the isolation of Mount Carbon ended. Soon travel between Forest Hills and the rest of the world resumed once again.
A peace treaty was soon signed between Tiny Town, the Township and Pottsville which allowed one privately owned road to be maintained through Mount Carbon without the borough having to pay one red cent for any expenses. North Manheim Township was given control over much of the more ritzy section of Forest Hills.

The Tiny Town treasurer emptied the paper bag which contained all of the borough’s revenue onto the table, totaling $335.27 cash, three “free glass of beer” tokens from Goodfellas, two 10% discount coupons from Adelphia’s, and two Winter Carnival buttons. All of this revenue was already was earmarked for other borough projects. There was nothing left for road repairs.
Eighteen people joined hands in one human chain that stretched from one end of the borough to the other, raising nearly $42.50 towards a fund to maintain the road. This was called “Hands Across Mount Carbon” and was filmed and put to music. Alas, the money raised was not enough.
Luckily, there is discussion of the City of Pottsville pledging city tax dollars to perpetually maintain the private road through Mount Carbon as a form of restitution to those middle class residents forced to leave the city during the Trail of Tears period.
I am not sure who pays for the road maintenance of the ritzy section in North Manheim Township. I probably would guess Pottsville.

UFO over Pottsville

2010-05-03T05:23:00.000-07:00

The Republican Herald on April 29th featured this story on the UFO sighting in Pottsville
Officials: Object not UFO; but what was it?
It was disappointing; it was part of the continuing cover-up of extra-terrestrial visits.

However, here is proof that aliens have made contact with Schuylkill County! Please study the above photograph carefully. Ignore the photograph to the right.

This is not some paper lantern released by some drama or glee club. Notice a saucer-shaped object above the Schuylkill County Courthouse. If you magnify the photograph you will faintly make out several courthouse employees having a tobacco break.

Proof that the photo is authentic!

The person who captured this photograph, referred to only as Mammy T. (she desires to keep her identity confidential) sat for an exclusive interview.

Q. Mammy T, where were you when this photograph was taken?
A. I was bird watching on Lawton’s Hill, looking for a downy woodpecker, when my binoculars nearly got knocked out of my hands by the gigantic intergalactic flying object.

Q. How long was it visible?
A. For about three minutes about 100 feet above me, it just wobbled and floated in air. The same amount of time it takes for the traffic light to turn green if you are waiting at the corner by the Necho Allen, trying to turn left onto Centre Street. It was during that time frame that I snapped the now famous photograph.

Q. What was your first reaction?
A. I was scared… the thing was bigger than a house. I remembered what I was taught in grade school, if ever I was involved in an extraterrestrial encounter…. I stopped, dropped and rolled.

Q. Did you get any other photographs?
A. No, I could have but I needed to text a take-out order from Charlie’s Sub Shop. By the time I finished texting the saucer had disappeared.

Q. Where did it go?
A. I donna know. I was too busy texting in my hoagie order, trying to spell out the word mayonnaise…boy, is that hard to spell... especially after stopping, dropping and rolling….I should have just used the abbreviation mayo.

Q. Did you talk to anyone about what you had just witnessed?
A. The people at the shop. They thought I was a kook. So I paid for my hoagies and quickly left. After that I just clammed up and kept this to myself until now. I was scared for me and my family. The government does not want this information out.

Q. Do you have any opinion as to why the spacecraft selected Pottsville?
A. Yes. I have several differing theories. One is that the area may appear to them to be a black hole. Take a look at the parking lot at Market and Second Street. Say that doesn’t look like a black hole? Two has to with the pending Intermodal being erected near Mootz’s Candy Store. Boy, do I love their peanut rolls... Aliens may believe that the Intermodal is some sort of welcome mat. My last theory is the one I am leaning towards. The American Way, or May Fair, is somehow a part of a planned alien invasion that has already been undertaken. Did you hear that famed British scientist Screamin’ Jay Hawkins has warned us that we must avoid aliens at all cost as they are dangerous? That is why I avoid the moon walk at the fair.

Q. Why the May Fair?
A. It is possible that the people at the May Fair were being harvested and fattened as a food supply for the aliens. On the other hand, the extra-terrestrials may actually enjoy the festival, mingling with the revelers, blending in with the crowd. Time will tell, but don't let your guard down. Trust no one.

Q. Have you have any alien encounters since?
A. Since that day, I had one brief telepathic communication with the aliens.

Q. What was the message communicated to you?
A. I was told how to spell the word mayonnaise. It is a word I will never forget. Two n's.

History of Schuylkill County (chapter 3: Centre Turnpike)

2010-04-25T05:17:00.000-07:00

Prior to 1812 Schuylkill County’s transportation routes consisted of a few isolated Indian trails and bridle paths. The Centre Turnpike, opened in 1812, followed a large portion of the old King’s Highway, originally intended to be the Northwest Passage to Knoebel’s Grove; this new turnpike however veered to the west to join the cities of Reading and Sunbury. Economically this thoroughfare was significant for the county, giving many citizens government jobs at the various toll booths that dotted the highway. By 1815 17% of the county’s male population had employment as toll booth attendants. This began the two hundred year old love affair between the citizenry and government jobs.
With so many travelers on the turnpike, this also created an opportunity for many restaurateurs to open establishments and offer the wayfarers the cuisine common in their European mother countries.
One major innovation of the eateries was “drive-through” service which allowed customers on horseback or stagecoach to order and pick up food without stepping foot inside.
Forensic archeologists have recently determined that the most popular take-outs of these early settlers included chow chow, fluffernutter sandwiches, gruel and porter ale – all still popular today. The most popular meals eaten inside at a table included leek soup, collops, pigeon breasts, onion rings, porter ale and sweet and sour possum (also still popular today at Renninger’s Market).
Many of these eateries catered to children, featuring primitive “Happy Meals” of a boiled pig’s stomach with a small toy, such as a pocketknife, hidden inside. To keep these active children content while the adults finished off their meal with tobacco and a pitcher of ale, indoor “playgrounds” were available, consisting of small collieries where coal could be broken by children into smaller pieces with their grubby little fingers. Stephen Girard and others adopted this practice on a larger scale in the booming coal industry, creating unheard of financial opportunities for children which allowed them to buy more “Happy Meals.”
Billboard advertising appeared along the highway in the 18th century. The first billboard announced the distance to “Spa Centre Turnpike” in North Manheim Township. The ones that followed advertised nearby taverns. In the mid-1820s Pottsville’s downtown was not as busy as it is today. There were no enticing tattoo parlors and no ‘cash for trash’ businesses. ....none.... zippo.... In those early days, tattooing was done in the privacy of one’s own stable, keeping much of the population off the streets. Pottsville, however, had several watering holes that attracted those from near and far.

The most famous pub was The White Horse Tavern, at the corner of Mahantongo and Centre Streets. John Pott purchased the premises in 1818 and every weekend featured the legendary house bands Anthro Sylicosis and the original Stanky and the Coalminers. It was here that Mrs. Pott uttered that classic phrase, “This ain’t no disco.” Trendy scenesters soon flocked to the White Horse to “see and be seen.” Boasting a nice, loungey atmosphere that easily transmuted into a wild and infectious party, the Tavern offered a welcoming atmosphere. It soon became a hip testament to Pottsville featuring a long list of chic and potent whiskey concoctions, quality tap beers, pretty women, beer pong tables, and some darn good bar food such as pickled eggs, house pizzas, calzones, shepherd’s pie, bangers and mash. Amidst an array of sophisticated mixed drinks, reverberating lounge music, and the eclectic and attractive clientele, one sort of faded back at first, before awakening by the increasingly exhilarating action on the dance floor. On weekends the party often became excessive and overwhelming to the fainter patrons, but it was never crass or vulgar. Thursdays could be chill as Thursday was karaoke night.

So much for the history of the Centre Turnpike.

Schuylkill County History (chapter two)

2010-04-11T04:09:00.000-07:00

Anthracite coal

After Necho Allen accidentally discovered anthracite in the late eighteenth century, the fossil fuel was ignored until mega-millionaire Stephen Girard purchased most of northern Schuylkill County. Mr. Girard then created the small village of Girardville in honor of himself. For a number of years all of the first born males born there were required to be named Girard. Unlike today when all the males must be named Ayden, Jayden, Hayden, or Brayden.

With the increasing German population within the Commonwealth demanding more and more cabbage, Stephan Girard believed that crushed anthracite could be used as a condiment, or seasoning, in the widely popular grated cabbage salad. Medical science at the time widely touted the healthy effects of coal consumption as a way to get sufficient mineral intake. Coal would also be used in drinks such as coffee or tea. This is the origin of the phrase “One lump or two.” Doctors at the time would appear in advertisements promoting the consumption of zinc, magnesium, iron and coal, but one must remember that, in those days, medical science also touted the positive attributes of leeching, bloodletting and tobacco smoke enemas.

Stephen Girard would make a fortune with his coal. He ordered all the boys named Girard to break the anthracite into fine pieces; they became the first breaker boys. The crushed anthracite was then mixed into the cabbage salad. In July 1822, the first shipment of one ton of “anthracite coal slaw” was sent down the Schuylkill to Philadelphia. Schuylkill County soon became overrun by capitalists, adventurers and fortune hunters all trying to get in on the action on the world-wide craving for this side dish. Northeast Pennsylvania forever became known as "the coal slaw region." In Girardville coal slaw wrestling became quite popular with the leftover slaw being put to good use.

Anthracite remained a grated cabbage salad ingredient for several years until its value as a fuel source was realized. Secondly, medical science now stated that carbon intake was no longer healthy. Lastly, mineral supplements in a tablet form were better for one’s teeth and became widely available at local general stores in the form of Flintstone vitamins.

Pepper eventually replaced coal as a cabbage salad seasoning. But coal would still be broken into smaller pieces; only now to be used in millions of heatrolas and furnaces across the world. Stephen Girard had an uncanny knack for knowing when to sell and he disposed of his coal slaw franchise to a Betty something or other. He then plunged into the energy and fuel industry; elevating himself from the status of “upper class” to “filthy, stinking rich.”

Stephen Girard often could be seen wearing his “I Got Shamrocked in Girardville” tee shirt as he walked to his center-city Philadelphia Bank (which had financed the 1812 war effort). Few of the people passing him by realized that this gentleman was now the wealthiest man in the entire universe. At the time our universe consisted of the planets Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Vesta, Juno, Ceres, Hollywood, Jupiter, Saturn, Krypton* and Uranus.

Under the terms of his last will and testament, Mr. Girard set up an endowment for a Philadelphia school to educate “poor, white, male, Philadelphia orphans named Girard” and requested that his trustees to get as much wealth from Schuylkill County as possible, and by any means necessary, to fund his project. In a codicil to the will he bequeathed his worn-out “I Got Shamrocked In Girardville” tee shirt, his crumpled coal slaw recipe, and his childhood sled christened “Rosebud” to the village of Girardville. This was the largest charitable bequest by a coal baron to the people Schuylkill County to date.

* Krypton would not disintegrate for another 140 years.

Schuylkill County History (chapter One)

2010-03-29T15:09:00.000-07:00

The true but condensed history of Schuylkill County

Chapter One : The legend of Necho Allen

Prior to settlement by early pioneers, the area we now know as Schuylkill County, was indeed one vast wilderness. More wooly and wild than even Shenandoah today. Native Americans (or "Indians" as they were referred to prior to the Hindu Temple being built in South Manheim Township) ruled the southern area. These original inhabitants had not yet gone into the casino business and used the area primarily for hunting and fishing.
The first German settlers made camp in the southern part of the county and kept a watchful eye on these Delaware and Nanicoke Indians who were allies of the French during the French and Indian War (now the French and Native American War).
Luckily for us the British won the war or else we would all being be eating crepes, Roquefort cheese, fondue, and our women would not be shaving their legs.
Soon after beating the French and Native Americans, Pennsylvanians soured on the British and independence was fought for and won. The area we now know as Schuylkill was then a part of Berks County. After the colonies won the war, resentment began to build as the early Pennsylvania German settlers wanted nothing to do with the Pagoda, the Berks shogun warriors and the imperial city of Reading. They wanted to eat their shnitzels and sauerkraut with forks and knives and not chop sticks. It seemed as if civil war would break out but luckily cool heads prevailed and Schuylkill County (the southern part only) was born in 1811. The northern part was still uninhabited and yet to be discovered. Necho Allen would be the first to explore this area.
And independence came just in the nick of time. Necho Allen discovered coal in the county when he camped out on the Broad Mountain.
The story of Necho Allen is fascinating. While never reaching the fame that his siblings, Frodo, Chico and Charo achieved, Necho, in comfortable middle age, led a group of dwarves and hobbits on a quest to reclaim the Broad Mountain and its treasure from the dragon Smaug. Along the way Necho encountered frantastic creatures, including trolls, elves, and goblins. Today, some of the descendants of these creatures are still visible at Renninger’s Market.
While at the base of the Broad Mountain after an exhausting day of picking huckleberries, Necho built a fire and began to toast some stale marshmallows. This would be the first reported toasting of marshmallows in the New World. He was awakened by a great heat and light and stayed up all night trying to figure out what was going on. He thought that he may be a new Moses. This was the same night that Necho Allen created S’mores by placing a toasted marshmallow on a slice of chocolate which was placed between two graham crackers.
Necho Allen never made one single halfpence from his two discoveries. After realizing that his campfire was built on a outcrop of anthracite coal and the fire could not be put out, he quickly left the area for the Green Mountains of Vermont lest he face arrest for attempting to cause a catastrophe.
Back in Vermont he tried his hand in the confectionary candy business creating the Necho Wafer which brought him some financial security. He also penned some long forgotten songs, but had one hit “Baby, It’s Coal Outside” which is played every December in the tap room that bears his name.
The death of Necho Allen remains a mystery. Legend has it that he died accidentally while waterskiing on Lake Champlain. No one knows for sure.
His discovery of both anthracite coal and S’mores would soon fall into the hands of the cunning and crafty Stephen Girard, who would soon become the richest man in the universe. Girard would soon clean his S’mores-covered fingers with the finest linen napkins made by the women who worked in the Pottsville Full Tilt Silk Mills and throw them away in his coal stove.

- end of chapter one - quote the Raven "Never S'more."

Allentown's plans for St. George's

2010-03-03T19:35:00.000-08:00

I have been watching the demolition of the historic St. George’s Church in Shenandoah for some time now. People have been coming up to me asking, “what are the plans for the site once the church is finally down.” I casually reply “Who do you think I am? Mr.know-it-all?”
They get the message,walk away and leave me alone.
Curiosity finally got the better of me and I headed over to the Allentown where I would meet the person in charge of the demolition. I needed a real answer to give the people who depended on me to clear things up for them, rather than give them some koan to ponder. I arranged a luncheon at the Patio Restaurant in the basement of Hess Brothers Department Store. The mystery would soon be solved.

I took the escalator down to the basement of the store, flashed my blog pass to the store detective and soon was introduced to an elderly cleric wearing an oversized biretta on his head. He had a thick Irish brogue. The picture above was taken by the surveillance Polaroid camera. He was accompanied by two large swiss guards who stood behind him while we dined on hamburgers and drank cherry cokes. The guards ate cheese and drank hot chocolate if you are wondering, keeping a watchful eye on me all the while.
Our conversation went something like this:
“Top of the morning to you. We in Allentown are heartbroken over the animosity that arose over our decision to bring down an old building that was on the verge of collapse. Did you know that the building was over one hundred years old. In dog years that would be about seven hundred years old. If you had a dog 700 years old you would have shot it by now. Yes, we are aware that buildings in Europe stand proudly of upwards of a thousand years and are carefully preserved. But remember, that’s Europe and this is America. In major American cities sports stadiums are considered old and are demolished every twenty years or so and no one bats an eyelash. We just don’t know what all the fuss is about. If the ‘76ers were playing at St. George’s, everyone would be hollering to knock it down. I’ll ask the waitress to bring over a bottle of ketchup.”
“Fadda' What about the cultural heritage that is being lost forever? Ask for mustard while you are at it.”
“Yes, we are aware that it was the oldest Lithuanian Church in the United States, but now some other church will get to claim the title. Don’t you think everyone should get a turn? Remember when Vanessa Williams was stripped of the Miss America title, and she was quickly replaced. Life will go on my son. Please pass me the salt.”
“But Fadda' people are upset that the blood, sweat and tears of the ancestral coal miners who built the church will be forgotten. Fadda' do you want the pepper also?”
I then passed him the salt and pepper shakers.
“My son, we are very sensitive to this. A beautiful memorial will be placed on the location, dependent of course, on enough funds being raised to cover the costs. Last year the Appeal Fund only raised $4.59 plus three Damato Post pool tokens from the disgruntled parishioners. They have to be a little more loose with the purse if they want this memorial. Once the church is completely down, the sacred artifacts hauled away, and the dust settles (no pun intended) we in Allentown have a plan for the site. First we schedule a polka dance on the site to flatten the ground, secondly several truckloads of fresh coal dirt will be spread down and baked on top, followed by still another polka dance to make sure the ground has settled. Then the monument will be erected in the center with a magnificent fence of sheet metal purchased locally from Boley’s Irons Works to surround the entire parking lot....er...I mean...piazza. By purchasing all the metal from Boley’s Iron Works we will be stimulating the local economy rather than outsourcing. The lot...er....piazza... will assist in aleviating the parking problem during the Christmas and Easter holidays when everyone goes to the Kielbassi Shop. Do they still serve those big ice cream sundaes and strawberry pies here?”
At that point he unraveled the blue prints and I saw the proposed memorial marker with my own eyes. Why it was magnificent. Take a look for yourself.

Schuylkill County and Hoodie Hooism

2010-02-15T17:00:00.000-08:00

I will not celebrate Hoodie-Hoo Day. Call me an old fuddy duddy, I don’t care. I will not participate in any of the numerous countywide festivities. The concept of grown adults going outside on February 20th at twelve noon to cast some sort of mass spell is against my religious beliefs. At twelve noon I plan to be inside somewhere, hopefully eating a huge cheesesteak, smoking a cigarette and drinking a lager ale.

If you are not familiar with Hoodie-Hooism, it is a combination of Pennsylvania Dutch Pow-Wow, Louisiana VooDoo, and urban gangsta rap. On February 20th open your window and listen the pounding drum rhythms, while the participants chant dutch proverbs (“Kissin’ wears out – cookin’ don’t”) and sing their songs (“Siss Net Alli Daag Luschdich Leewe”) as they do hip hop arm and hand gestures towards the noon day sun. At the same time,some white-robed, red- hatted HooDoo priestess leads them in some strange incantation meant to alter the weather and create more global warming.

These people want to shorten the winter and lengthen the summer!
Their rituals are elaborate, steeped in secret Pennsylvania Dutch, French Creole, and gangsta rap languages. Talismans are bought and sold during the rituals; some could even be bobble heads that represent HooDoo gods. This is the dark side of Hoodie Hooism that I am trying to warn you about. It uses hapless participants to summon the spirit world to alter the normal course of nature, shorten winter, and defying all that the groundhog had told us. Just watch as the high priestess places candles, food, money, cigarettes, amulets, lottery tickets, herbs, necklaces, ceremonial rattles, magical powders, cans of Yuengling beer, flags, bells, sacred stones and knives upon the HooDoo rug (pictured here) as the incantations begin in earnest.

"HOODY HOO!!!!! That's the call for the killaz.
Don’t make me call the dogs (use my ghetto code)
Oh, we got beef? HOODY HOO!
I represent the dirty south
For all my thugs and thugettes out there
To the world
Get rowdy, bout it, bout it (Where they at?)
Where the tru thugs at?
HOODY HOO, Buckle up, Knuckle up What you wanna do?

HOODY HOO, Buckle up, Knuckle up. What you wanna do?

HOODY HOO, Buckle up, Knuckle up. What you wann do?"

Spells which are conjured up to alter the weather take a long time to cast and take a lot of psychic power. The incantations go on for hours. That is why healthy, vigorous volunteers are requested to take part. Those of weakened physical ability sometimes end up in zombie-like stupor with no will of their own destined to walk up and down Pottsville's Centre Street forever.

Hoodie Hooism (a/k/a HooDoo) does not have a structured hierarchy, nor an established theology or clergy. It relies on these lay practitioners under the watchful eye of a Hoodie Hoo doctor or priestess. HooDoo was first documented in 1875 when a spell was cast upon a Pine Grove summer sausage salesman who soon met economic disaster. Hoodie Hooism was recently linked to the freak hail storm that wrecked havoc on the Pottsville Cruise Parade in 2008.

Scientists have been following Hoodie Hooism for years. The direct correlation between global warming and increased Hoodie Hooism can no longer be denied. Go to the Majestic Theatre and watch the award winning “An Inconvenient Truth” once it comes around again.
Since the 1960s, both the atmospheric CO 2 level has increased in direct co-relation to the number of Hoodie Hoo events. Thus, Hoodie Hooism is a proven substantial factor in global warming which can no longer be ignored.

I am not arguing that Hoodie Hooism to be the sole cause of global warming, as one cannot rule out other external forces influencing climate changes. Certainly the eruption of Mount Laffee several years ago, the variations in earth’s orbit around the sun, and the gasses emitted by local greenhouses and those eating excessive amounts of sauerkraut or brussel sprouts are other factors that need immediate attention.

Stay away from Hoodie Hoo. Watch the video below.

Senior Winter Olympics of 1972

2010-02-07T09:07:00.000-08:00

I remember the magic and excitement of the Senior Winter Games that were held here in Pottsville in 1972. While overshadowed by the Schuylkill Senior Summer Olympics, these winter games were always a hoot. Obviously most of the winter games were at the old Ski Lodge, not to be mistaken for the Moose, Masonic or Elks Lodges, all within the city limits (and where some of the events were held). For those too young, the Pottsville Club now occupies the old Ski Lodge and it sits high on top of Sharp Mountain.
Just like the summer games, the tenaciously trained senior winter Olympians came from all corners of Schuylkill County to participate in the cold, all sponsored by state lottery money.

The opening ceremony, at Veterans Stadium, had the athletes enter on their Rascal scooters and parade around under the flags of their respective municipalities. It was the last year that scooters were permitted onto the field due to the damage caused by the chains on the tires. All subsequent opening ceremonies had the participants in snowmobiles or pushing shopping carts.

All announcements were all broadcasted in the three official Senior Olympics languages.* Soon the word bellowed that the senior Olympians, all dressed in either spandex or Morgan Knitting Mill Long Johns, were now taking the field in the Parade of Municipalities. A tumultuous applause broke out that lasted for ten minutes as it was discovered that clapping ones hands keeps frostbite risks to a minimum. The athletic events would soon begin in earnest after the male figure skating tribute to the Pottsville Maroons and the torch lighting of the official Senior Olympic cauldron.
The Senior Olympic Committee expanded the number of events that year. Not only would there be the traditional sports of Skiing, Bobsledding, snowball fighting, milk curling, dog sledding and synchronized snowman building, as now many new sports would be featured. Generation G was not content with old sports, they demanded new exciting events. Moustache defrosting was held at the Moose Lodge and was quite a crowd pleaser. If I am not mistaken, Sacramento won the gold for the men, while West Penn won the gold for the women. But I may be wrong. It may be the other way around.
Then there was the sport of Igloo-building which was dominated by the elders of Eldred Township. Rumors spread that Geritol enhancement may have assisted in their victory but the urine tests all came back negative. If I am not mistaken gold medals were given for urine tests that year for the first time. Eldred doubled the gold that year.
One of the most exhilarating sports added that year was the Craftmatic Adjustable Bed Race which had teams carry beds down Market Street, north on Centre and then up Laurel Boulevard to ice-filled Veterans Stadium. Shenandoah was the odds on favorite. “Do you believe in Miracles?” Well, Pottsville got the gold, Shenandoah got the silver, and Ringtown captured the bronze in a breath-taking photo finish upset to the amazement of thousands watching in the stands rooting for their hard of hearing home team. It is often referred to as "the miracle ear on ice."
Icicle Bingo was held at the Elks Lodge but that event was quickly dropped due to no spectators showing up. If anyone got a medal that year, no one cared. Compare that to the Cold Water Diving held at JFK Stadium. “The Tower” was still standing then. That event drew the most contestants and the biggest crowds, with many children encouraging their elders to just give it a try. I don’t know how to express in words, the emotion felt by watching people old enough to be my great-grandparents do twists and turns into the frigid waters of the pool, kept warm only by a heavy coating of Vicks-Vapo Rub, and being judged for technical achievement, overall impression and artistic interpretation. All of this diving was done for the glory of their respective municipalities, and not for personal edification. It brought tears to my eyes, and those tears quickly froze.
The Senior Winter Olympics of 1972 were unforgettable and I was glad to be there.

* The three official languages of the Senior Games are King’s English, Pennsylvania Dutch and Skook dialect. For example:

King’s English : “How are you doing, Sir?”
Pennsylvania Dutch: “Wie tun Sie, Herr throw me down the stairs a kiss.”
Skook Dialect: “How’re youse doin’ yo?”

Another example:
King’s English: “Why, my word, look at that!”
Pennsylvania Dutch: “Gookamoedoe! Throw me down the stairs a kiss.”
Skook dialect: “Wad da frik!!!”

Still another example:
King’s English: “Pardon me Sir. Can you please pass the bottle of ketchup to me?”
Pennsylvania Dutch: “Mich begnadigen geehrter Herr. Konnen sie mich die flasche des Ketschups bitte fuhren and while you are at it throw me down the stairs a kiss.”
Skook dialect: “Yo, butt, gimme dat friggin’ catsup bough-ull, wuj- ja.”

The Repplier House needs your help

2010-01-30T19:26:00.000-08:00

I was at the gigantic Groundhog Day Weekend sale at the Frackville Mall and on my way back home I got a chance to stop at the Repplier House. It is just north of St. Clair, at the junction of Wolf Creek and Mill Creek. It is chock full of history. It is often referred to as “the jewel of New Castle Township” and is located on grounds owned by the Repplier Coal Company but leased out. Due to some legalize language the landlord’s hands are tied; the perplexed landlord is not permitted to fix up the structure. It is the sole responsibility of the tenant.

“It is the land tenant’s responsibility to fix up the Repplier House!’ is an argument protecting the land owner from responsibility. I agree one hundred per cent. The landowner is fearful of getting bogged down in mire of litigation and the Repplier House now sits sad and abandoned even though no one knows who the tenant is or whether the tenant is paying rent. No one knows if a tenant even exists. Maybe it is the ghost of George S. Repplier? Who wants to get tangled up in a fight with a ghost? I know I wouldn’t; I just finished watching “Paranormal Activity” on DVD. Ghosts always win fights. I don't know why.
The landowner is obviously embarrassed by the tenant’s lackadaisical response to the needs of the building. Some in the county are even demanding that the building be demolished. Do you know how expensive that could be? Why it could cost hundreds of dollars or perhaps even a couple thousand dollars. Take one look. First of all, it looks fixable to me; it appears that all it needs is some tender loving care to restore it to its grandeur past. It could certainly use a fresh coat of paint for starters.
Why should the landowner be responsible for the maintenance of its real estate when the building was erected by its tenant? Aren’t we responsible for our own actions? How can the landowner would be expected to come up with a couple of thousand dollars to demolish the building? That is a lot of money, especially when the landowner is a coal company struggling to survive in these bad economic times. I bet that the landowner is a member of SEDCO or the Chamber of Commerce - two organizations that promote Schuylkill County. It must be such an embarrassment to the landlord. To argue that this landowner should pay to remove a public nuisance on its property simply defies all logic and compassion. Did you know that coal demand is way down since Santa Claus cancelled many of his anthracite contracts? Bad children have now been getting brussel sprouts in their stockings on Christmas mornings. Good for our west end farmers but terrible for our struggling coal industry. Also Luzerne County has shut down its juvenile detention center, releasing many “bad” children who would have gotten coal (or maybe brussel sprouts) every Christmas. To top it off, the coal industry has lost the Courthouse contract. The Courthouse has switched to gas (not even brussel sprout-generated gas which is bad news for west end farmers). No coal. Not even one lump. Na-da. Zip. Zilch.
That is why I am calling on the people of the county to role up sleeves and pitch in to volunteer. When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Forget about Haiti. Think locally, not globally. Take a look at this building outside of St. Clair. Doesn’t it bring tears to your eyes knowing that the landowner has to suffer with this eyesore? Where is the stimulus money? Where is Habitat for Humanity when we need it? Can’t SKIP send dozens of scouts over to help clean up? Can’t the Penn State students stand along Route 61 with buckets to collect coins from compassionate passer-bys? Too bad that some county philanthropist could not just pick up the tab to help out the coal company (and/or help out the ghost/tenant George S. Repplier).
I will not simply sit back oblivious to this crisis. I will do my part. I will divert all money that intended to send to Haiti to the Repplier Relief Committee once one is formed.
Take a look around New Castle Township and you will agree that Port Au Prince can wait.

Arlen's running again

2010-01-24T09:01:00.000-08:00

I have been voting for Arlen Specter my entire life. And so have my parents, and their fathers before them. Women didn’t have the vote until 1919 so that is why my grandmothers didn’t vote for him early on.

Some people say he is an opportunist but I don’t care what party he belongs to. The Trouts voted for him when he was a Republican, when he was a Prohibitionist, and they will vote for him now that he is a Democrat. Personally I don't care. I became a fan of his when he created his “Wall of Sound” back in the early 1960s. He created that dense, layered, and reverberant music that sounded so great on AM radio and at the jukebox at Mickey’s Fountainette. I would play his quintessential hit, “Be My Baby,” over and over again until old man Mickey himself would throw me out of the Fountainette. That is why I am a Specter supporter. The man is musical genius.
Quite an accomplishment for a senator who has held his seat since the days of Boies Penrose. While laying claim to being the only Senator inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he also made quite a name for himself heading all of those assassination investigation committees. Huey Long, John Kennedy, the Tellarite Ambassador on the Star Trek series and the Notorious B.I.G, just to name a few. An assassination just wasn’t an assassination unless Arlen got to investigate it somehow. His most controversial investigation was into the mysterious death of the Werewolf of London back in the 1950s. Working together with British intelligence he concocted the theory that the werewolf was killed by a single silver bullet. Books have been written about that ever since. As for me, I haven’t made my mind up yet.
He has always been in the papers causing a stir. I remember the time that he sat on the committee investigating whether Benny Hill was being harassed by Danny Thomas, the Supreme Court nominee. Hill was sent packing and Thomas now sits on the court.
Then there was the time that Arlen got to sit in judgment on Bill Clinton’s impeachment trial. Everyone looked up to him on that one since he was the only Senator to have been on three separate impeachment committees – Andrew Johnson’s, Richard Nixon’s and Bill Clinton’s. Quite an impressive record there. Even Strom Thurmond was jealous. At the dramatic conclusion of the hearing, he appeared on the steps of the Capitol in kilts, with bagpipes blasting away to a strange version of “Be My Baby,” announcing in a thick Scottish accent that Bill Clinton was innocent of the charges after reading the Treaty of Aberdeen. I was watching it on TV in Julian’s Bar, and the crowds went ballistic in Mount Carbon that’s for sure.

Now Arlen has a fight on his hands. First he has to sink Admiral Sestak in the primary, then take on Toomey in the fall election. My money is on Arlen. He always seems to know how to reinvent himself. The political pundits said that Scott Brown was victorious in the recent Senate race in Massachusetts due in large part to his Cosmopolitan centerfold publicity. Cosmopolitan, you all know, is the second highest read magazine in the country, right after AARP’s magazine. I think it is called AARP The Magazine. So easy to remember. It's pronounced aaarrrr-pa.

Sure enough! Arlen did not waste anytime to reinvent himself once again.

He's morphing into Scott Brown. I just got my February edition of AARP the magazine, and lo and behold who is the newest Centerfold winner? You guessed it. Pandering to the state's large (enormous) senior citizen voting bloc, no less? So what. I had gone down to the local betting parlor and wagered on Betty White being the centerfold. I might as well have thrown my money into the hole in the ground at Norwegian Street near the old bus terminal. Don’t underestimate the tenacity of this guy. He will do anything to get reelected. I’m going back down to the betting parlor and place ten dollars on ol’ Arlen in the fall. How about yous?

two thumbs up

2010-01-02T13:15:00.000-08:00

It is not often that I get to review a motion picture. Today I had the opportunity to watch “Pottsville And the Top 5.” and do a review for the beansoup blog. Why? Because I run the blog. its cold outside and there is nothing else to write about.
The film was recommended to me by a poster on the green screen. It was being hyped as an urban docudrama that everyone must see. I fell for hype before. Lots of times. Even this Christmas I went out and sold my blood just so I could buy my grandkids some zu zu pets. Then there were the hyped films. The Blair Witch Project. The Forty Year Old Virgin. American Pie. Knocked Up. All films that I was told I must see before I die. All of these were disappointments.

Would “Pottsville And the Top 5” also let me down? Not by a long shot. After having screened a VHS bootleg copy acquired at a local flea market I was utterly surprised by the film and I love it. It made me laugh. It made me cry. It made me sneeze. I felt moved in a way that rarely happens to me. I think the last time was when I watched Sean Connery in “The Molly Maguires.” And that was back in the late 60s at the Hollywood Theatre.

This movie certainly lived up to all of the hype, the hoop-la, and the brou-ha-ha (not necessarily in that order). The opening sequence really packed a punch and had me glued to my seat in anticipation. The script is excellent. The film seemed so real to me and it challenged me to think beyond what had been told to me by the well-cast actor, presumably playing himself. He is convincingly naturalistic, and actually likeable. Zaq Powers' method acting is simple, straight-forward, raw and powerful. Todd Todderson’s direction and cinematography are masterful. A new Fellini is now walking among us. He not only showed the beauty of the city and the surrounding area, but the film speaks about the people that reside in it.
One of the great strengths of the film is the editing. There is never a dull moment. You never know where the action will be taking place next, which does much to heighten the tension. It is beautiful, deep, adventurous, sad, and funny. I applaud the film-makers of Noleyone Productions for creating a hit out of a simple idea and handled so awesomely well.

What a concept. It is the philosophical, spawling journey of an energetic young man looking for freedom and adventure in Pottsville, Pennsylvania. This main character is searching for his own version of the American Dream. Will he find it? I won't spoil the ending for you.
This existental film was actually shot on location in the Schuylkill County seat on a limited budget, enticed here by the generous tax breaks offered by the city to filmmakers. To be honest though, one hilarious Borat-like scene was filmed in nearby North Manheim Township.
What the filmmakers managed to do with what they had is not only revolutionary, but also inspirational to other aspiring film makers throughout the southern anthracite coalfields. The gripping film reminded me of the naivete of youth and the way the young view the world. The diner scene was reminiscent of the Nicholson movie “Five Easy Pieces” and I assume that is where the Five comes from in the title.

Overall it is a moving and thought-provoking masterpiece despite the fact that the film omitted several well-known locations in the city, the soundtrack was somewhat loud and the script occasionally crossed the line between character development and character worship. The omission of the mysterious Spa 61 employees was the biggest letdown for me. This film is destined to become some kind of classic – an Easy Rider for the X, Y, and Z Generations (not necessarily in that order) – it defines the road film genre. It is a brilliant piece of arthouse experimental film-making.

(film is rated PG-13. No violence; no foul language; implied sexual reference; no drug use; may be offensive to women who do laundry).

Rockin New Years Eve

2009-12-19T12:57:00.000-08:00

Mammy has been pestering me; trying to get me to make plans for New Years Eve. She told me that we have to go out since there will be a blue moon. I always said that I go out on New Year’s Eve “only once in a blue moon.” She wants me to keep my promise and doesn’t want to sit at home watching Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year Eve.

Doesn’t she realize that the Pussycat Girls will be performing on the show this year?
Anyway, where would we go?
Mammy gave me an ultimatum. We go out or else.
I tried making reservations at “The Trolley Car,” a local bistro in Wadesville, where I squandered away so much of my youth. I got no answer. Not even a taped message or an answering machine. It would have been the perfect place for a romantic evening, high up on the mountain with a bird’s eye view of the blue moon and stripping pits.
The Trolley was noted for the friendliest bartenders in the greater St. Clair area and, more importantly, it was celebrated for its fine, eclectic menu of bar food – pickled eggs, beef jerky, and Lance crackers. If I am correct pistachio nuts were the signature mark of this mouthwatering bill of fare. Yes! Wadesville would be the perfect location to view the blue moon that would envelop Schuylkill County as we welcomed 2010.*
I remember many places from Schuylkill County’s past but I could not find any in the phone book. The Lame Goose. The SoHo. The Bur Ben Inn. The Gallery. The Con Ja Ka. Rokosz’s. All of these were now all closed.
“I want to dance,” Mammy bellowed repeatedly. I tried to find a place that had music. I remembered a great place in Llewellyn - the Rhinoceros Room. I could not find a listing on SuperPages and I found no website. Panic soon set in. Where would we go?

I then tried contacting the Liederkrantz on Norwegian Street in Pottsville. Apparently that place went out of business when the German music craze in the county petered out.

Fertig! Getan! Geschlossen!
Longo’s, the great Italian Restaurant on Route 61, had also hit the dust. I remember the hours I spent in front of their lobster tank licking my lips trying to decide which crustacean I would eventually devour while the Tony Karpee band played in the background.

There was also no sense in dusting off my old leisure suit as the Disco Alley was caput.
I called the Visitors Bureau and was told that dancing was not popular anymore around here. Young people are too busy on Facebook and MySpace to move their feet. It was recommended that I book a table at the Garfield Diner near a window and watch the Yuengling bottle rise to the top of the city monument at midnight and then hop aboard the Molly Trolley for a ride to the Schuylkill Medical Center to await the announcement of the new year bastard with about five thousand other people under the glow of the blue moon.
I preferred heading to Wilkes-Barre to watch the next government official drop.
All of these festivities are on the internet and we could watch them from the comfort of our trailer, but we finally compromised and decided that we would Hosey Hop. That is, go from firehouse bar to firehouse bar, basking in the blue moonlight along the way.

Just in case there was no music available I told Mammy to bring along her Ipod so that she could dance. I had just downloaded some bootleg Jordan Brothers tunes for her. While she danced with a fireman, I would sit at the bar eat, some pickled eggs (with some horseradish) and watch Dick Clark drool in the new year. The Pussycat Girls are on, you know. But at midnight I will give Mammy a kiss and tell her that she is the best noisemaker I ever had. She loves compliments. I will then retake my bar seat, light up a cigarette, and finish off some more pickled eggs.

Happy rockin’ new years.

*Please refer to the new year as Twenty ten, not Two Thousand and Ten. Make that your new year resolution. Thank you.

East Penn bus memories

2009-12-07T19:51:00.000-08:00

Word was out that the pre-release Center would be coming to Pottsville. It would be a match made in heaven. You know, with the Intermodal Transportation Center being opened at the same time. I have to admit that I never quite knew what the word "intermodal” exactly meant. My dictionary defines the word as “Type of international freight system that permits trans-shipping among sea, highway, rail, and air modes of transportation.”
That seemed to clear things up; many thought it would be just a new bus station in the County Seat, trying to bring back the glory days of the old Pottsville Bus Station at the corner of Rt. 61 and Norwegian Street. The bus station featured a top notch restaurant, a photo booth, and a magazine stand. It was always busy. I am not just referring to its photo booth…. four pictures for fifty cents. I am talking about the bus station itself. It was not perfect though. Its biggest drawback was that the transportation there was only “Unimodal,” that is, only one means of transportation --- busses. The new Intermodal will cleverly combine busses with automobiles, SUVs, trains, pogo sticks, balloons, escalators, canal boats and the medivac helicopter.
My favorite busses of the past were certainly not the glamorous Trailways busses. No, sir. My favorites were those big green East Penn Bus Company busses that roamed the county and which reappear in my dreams periodically. They were infamous for the fumes emitted whenever a bus driver placed the key into the ignition. Yes, sir the county seat was surrounded by a big black cloud of diesel exhaust in the 1960s and early 1970s and I loved it. At times, when a bus would travel up Market Street, visibility would be about .o2%, with everyone within a radius of 250 square yards enveloped within the charcoal haze.
How thick was the smog emission? The smog was so thick that many people covered in could not even see the Guers Ice tea cartons they were drinking from and would spill their beverages all over themselves. I know this for a fact, as it happened to me on more than one occasion. If that was not so bad, then get a load of this: the only thing visible in Yorkville was the faint glow of the Burger King sign (which was actually erected with the smog in mind). It was also reported that more than a dozen people actually disappeared, never to be found again; all last seen walking through that crazy, hazy dark spot left behind by a sputtering East Penn bus. The disappearances were all blamed on alien abductions by the law officials. Alien interference always seems to be the excuse for anything unusual that happens around here. Finally, the resident scientists at the City Planetarium held that the pollution from these busses even surpassed the emissions from the last eruption of the county’s only active volcano, Mount Laffee. You all remember that eruption, don’t you? And that eruption was even ten times worse than the one at the Polish picnic's cabbage soup stand back in 1979.
I wonder what ever happened to those East Penn Busses?
I love the smell of diesel fuel in the morning. Don't you?
With the Intermodal Transportation Center in the heart of the historical district, perhaps the busses can be taken out of moth balls, called up to active duty, polished up with some turtle wax and given a new bus lease on life.
They could be to Pottsville as what the Duck bus tour is to Philadelphia.
I am running out of time now as I have to go and find a Christmas tree, Hannakah bush, Secularist shrub, Holiday hedge, or whatever one is supposed to refer to it now a day.

I never even got around to discussing the neat plan to fill Centre Street in Pottsville with prisoners. That will have to wait. I have a bus to catch.

gone, baby, gone...

2009-11-18T10:04:00.000-08:00

I stopped by St. George’s Church in Shenandoah the other week, before the ecclesiastical wrecking crew arrived. I was stunned by the magnificant gothic structure with its stone figurines looking down upon me. That it was going to be destroyed and leveled and left as a dirt lot was perplexing to me. The disemboweled church’s artistic and historic treasures --- the statues, the sacred vessels, the paintings, the antiques, the stained glass, the altar stone, etc. -- all paid for by the sweat and tears of mainly immigrant, anthracite coal miners -- were presumably being packed up and hauled away out of Schuylkill county. They may end up on Channel 44’s Antique Roadshow, Renninger's at Adamstown or on Ebay. Who knows?

Nothing is going to remain behind in Shenandoah as a reminder of this historical, ethnic and Catholic past. The higher-ups want no trace of the church’s existence to be left behind. Its treasury, together with its building improvement fund, has been long gone for some time. I guess that is a new twist on the Bishop’s Appeal Fund. I was also told by a reliable source that the plunder may also include the cemetery perpetual care funds, but I cannot verify that this, as there are no open discussions about what is going on or what the plans will be. I was told that there will be no keepsakes left behind. There was not even a small ceremony of deconsecration or farewell party held before the pillaging began.

I had thought it was Canon Law that a deconsecration service was required to be held, but I was wrong. There is no such requirement. Apparently the parishioners were simply told to get out and stay out. Someone told me that they were all given green plastic hats and instructed to march on over to the Annunciation Church and don't look back. The local historical societies were not given any invitation to copy any church records, or an opportunity to photograph or videotape the church’s interior for posterity.
The whole episode sort of reminds me of a combination of the Taliban in Afghanistan demolishing the Buddhist statues and the WWII Germans confiscating art work throughout Europe. At least the Russians did not raze the buildings when they closed the churches in eastern europe.
The United Nations has stated its recognition of the importance of the protection of cultural heritage and commits itself to fight against its intentional destruction in any form so that such cultural heritage may be transmitted to the succeeding generations. However this appreciation has fallen upon deaf ears around here. The oldest Lithuanian church in the United States is being obliterated. Just as the twin towers in New York came down, the twin towers of Shenandoah will be no more. The powers that be are similar to Stephen Girard and the other coal barons of the 19th century, extracting the wealth from the coal region to be used elsewhere. The powers that be were almost successful in annihilating every Lithuanian church in the county, but one got away - that one in Mahanoy City - and only because Mother Teresa inadvertently ruined their plans when she stopped by to purchase a take-out order of bleenies (limit six to a customer) and then decided to preach at that church. “Darn you, M T !” However the flattening of St. George’s and riddance of its existence makes up for “that one that got away.”
The church building was a cultural resource, a tangible link to Shenandoah’s past and Schuylkill County's past. The building provided information and knowledge in different areas such as art history, genealogy, and architecture. The building provided aesthetic value to that mining community, which will now probably be left with a vacant dirt lot, accumulating debris from the town’s Burger King customers. Lastly, the building could have been an economic resource if left to a viable cultural association.
It is somewhat contradictory that church-goers are taught to be respectful of worn-out, sacramental objects such as scapulars, bibles and rosary beads while at the same time the consecrated church building is being eradicated and leveled. The deconsecration process apparently consists of getting the proper permit from the borough and paying the haulers and demolition crews on time.
Isn’t it ironic that the decision to pulverize St. George’s was done on the watch of Bishop Edward Cullen? Assessment records of Avalon, Cape May County N.J., reveal that the ocean front property at 4660 Dune Dr. is deeded to an Edward P. Cullen (no title) with a value of $1.36 million. The tax bill had been sent to 2920 Chew St., Allentown, Pa., the residential address of the Bishop of the Diocese of Allentown, the Most Reverend Edward P. Cullen. The assessment records of Stone Harbor, Cape May County, N.J. reveal that Unit 201, Golden Shores Condominiums, 8001 Second Ave. is deeded to an Edward Cullen (no title) with a value of $600,000, and the tax bills were being sent to 4660 Dune Dr. Avalon. The assessment records of Lehigh County showed that a property at 3853 Larkspur Dr. Allentown, was deeded to a Most Reverend Edward P. Cullen, with a value of $390,000, and tax bills were being sent to P.O. Box F, Allentown, Pa., the address of the Chancery of the Diocese of Allentown. (information taken from the Allentown Morning Call).

Have you hugged your jury commissioner lately?

2009-11-06T18:22:00.000-08:00

I scoured the paper from the front page to the classified section and found nothing besides finding out that it is easy to get a pet cat for free around here. However I was really talking about the recent jury commissioner election race.

Nothing. Nyet. Nada. Nix.

No wonder voter turnout dropped off this year. Not one mention of the candidates in the voter guide. But I cannot put all the blame on the newspapers. The official Schuylkill County Government Website lists all of the elected officials but not one mention of our elected Jury Commissioners. Yet the website still gives the long departed Judge Wilber Rubright a top billing.
Some complain that the jury commissioners are irrelevant in this day and age as they only stuff an envelope once or twice a year and get paid handsomely. Bucks County jury commissioners were pulling in about twenty grand a year for an hour or two of work. Not bad. Montgomery County pays their jury commissioners over thirty one grand a year plus over twenty grand in fringe benefits. I don’t know what they get paid in Schuylkill County since they have no real office and have no presence on the website. They retain a phantom-like existence around here.

I, for one, have always admired a jury commissioner and consider any attempt to abolish the office as an assault on our way of life. Yep, when I was in grade school, when others wanted to be a fireman, truck driver, or professional wrestler, I used to say that I wanted to be a jury commissioner. I wanted to wake up every morning and go out and do nothing.
Thankfully, jury commissioners still get a lot of respect in the coal region. Gerry Bonner, the Luzerne County Jury Commissioner, is under indictment by a federal grand jury for passing bribes; but that did not prevent him from getting re-elected with over 18,300 votes with the help of his party that campaigned for him despite the indictment. In Luzerne they get paid a paltry $10,000 per year plus benefits. Congratulations Gerry! You certainly can now use the salary to help pay for your defense costs.
It would be disgraceful for the position to be abolished and tossed aside like a like a no-longer-needed training bra or an eight-track player. What needs to be done is to get our jury commissioners some good public relations and get them out in the public doing something that at least has the illusion of productivity. Don’t hide them away any longer as if they were some of your embarrassing crazy relatives.
Yes, we all concede that they serve no real function. That is a given. However they are harmless, so why not let them free the county commissioners from pointless ceremonial affairs such as throwing out the first snowball at the Winter Carnival, kissing a burro at the Haven Burro Day, or marching in the annual Orthodox St. Patrick’s Day Parade. Let the jury commissioners act as a source of county and coal region pride.
I want you to write to the county webmaster and demand that these forgotten souls be listed as reigning county officials - and certainly ahead of any deceased public servants. If the webmaster refuses then demand that the Jury Commissioners get their own MySpace page – its free you know. Suggest a theme song so that the public can connect to them. Ask that they get special hats and uniforms with plenty of buttons and ribbons (that always makes the wearer look important). For crying out loud, give them an office somewhere. I think the courthouse clock tower would be perfect. If these suggestions were heeded, any costs would be repaid ten-fold by the tourists coming to the county to get a glimpse of the elusive jury commissioners, now treated as royalty as they wave out of the tower window to the crowds below.

polling results - we have a winner!

2009-10-24T20:21:00.000-07:00

The "thing on Mahantongo Street" was declared to be a shade tree and will receive all of the perks that come with that designation as bestowed by the Pottsville Shade Tree Commission. *
Yes, the votes cast were underwhelming, but a certified tabulation by the Schuylkill County League of Women Voters In Crisis (a recent merger of two organization precipitated by the recent Commonwealth budget crisis).
Although not one vote was cast for “shade tree,” a plurality of the votes cast apparently determined the thing to be a “son of a beech.”

“A beech is a shade tree!” ruled the League of Women Voters In Crisis, "so a son of beech must also be a shade tree." Although there was apparent confusion over how trees reproduce.

Pottsville’s betting parlors were in a frenzy after the decision was announced; as the odds-on winner was projected to be “Its part of the recent Skankification project.”

“Election fraud!” was echoed through out the county, even in Frackville which has no trees. “What is this, Afghanistan Tehran or Luzerne County!”
Some argued that it was the butterfly ballot which made it difficult for many to determine that a vote for the European beech was a vote for “shade tree.”
“No one voted for shade tree. How on earth can a vote for a beech tree be tabulated as a vote for a shade tree?
"This is a sign or evidence of widespread rigging."
"The Rest Haven votes were not counted as the patients did not know how to turn on the computers."

"The write-in votes for bamboo cast on etch-a-sketches, and not computers, were thrown out."

Apparently two votes were cast for “Venus fly trap” causing the outrage over election irregularities to escalate. Many argued that these votes were cast due to the so-called “dimple vote” – the voter was not pressing hard enough on one of the other options and fingers slipped onto the “son of a beech tree” selection. The two who voted for Venus fly trap were also compared to those who voted for Ralph Nader in the 2000 presidential election - wasting a vote on a spoiler with no chance of winning.
The Schuylkill Haven Call editorialized that “fraud was so pervasive that nearly a quarter of all votes should be thrown out. Mammy Trout has admitted to voting at least three times. How could anyone think that the 800 block of Mahantongo Streer is harboring a Venus fly trap large enough to devour a dog, an innocent child or even the typically-sized man that frequents Renninger's Market on a Sunday morning in order to purchase his sticky buns?”
Some complained that many of those who cast a vote were probably under the influence and their votes should not count. All fingers pointed to Mammy Trout.

To them I say “this is America and the vote of a drunk is just as important as the vote of someone sober.”

Just remember; there were not “many” votes to begin with, only eleven.
Despite this controversy, “the thing on Mahantongo Street” will be sworn in officially as a protected street shade tree on January 20th in a pompous ceremony featuring the City Code Enforcement Office, a handful of Vulcans, the Tree Commission and the Third Brigade Band (playing “Tie A Yellow Ribbon Around the Old Beech Tree”), a large group of tourists visiting Yuengling Brewery, street people, and a few dogs. Until the dedication, the "shade-tree elect" will recieve round-the-clock protection from Pottsville's finest street crossing guards.

There will be no run-off election! Na da! The Schuylkill County League of Women Voters In Crisis will now focus its attention on the upcoming Jury Commissioner race which is too close to call.

*perks include Miracle-Grow and water

Shade Tree or Weed?

2009-10-15T18:13:00.000-07:00

Pottsville’s street trees are now showing off their majestic autumn colors!

I took a few photographs around town and this is my favorite. Someone argued with me over whether it is a street tree or not. He said it was a weed…a tall two story weed. I disagreed. I told him there is a weed ordinance in the city that prohibits weeds from being more than one story tall. Another passerby chimed in and told me that whatever it is, it was planted during a city Skankification project and therefore it is to be revered. If I wanted to, I was told I could take a leaf and show it to Porcupine Pat who could determine the species. I am now confused, so I will go out on a limb and leaf it up to you, the readers. let's see what the poplar vote tells us. Oakey-dokey.

What the heck is that thing growing on the 800 block of Mahantongo Street? VOTE ON THE POLL FOUND TO THE RIGHT OF THE BLOG. No dangling chads please! Read the voting instructions prior to casting your vote.

Here is the city ordinance prohibiting weeds from growing more than one story tall:

It shall be the duty of every person who shall hold title in any capacity to or have possession of or be responsible for the management or upkeep of any land or lot of ground upon which any noxious weeds, as herein defined, may be growing in excess of one story in height to cut or destroy the same and also to prevent such weeds from flowering or going to seed and the seed of the same from ripening.

[Amended 6-12-2006 by Ord. No. 734]
Noxious weeds include burdock, chicory, crabgrass, garlic or wild onion, goldenrod, horse nettle, milkweed, morning glory, mullen, perennial thistle (including Canada, Russian, sow, bull and other thistles), poison ivy, quack grass, ragweed, sumac, wild carrot, wild lettuce, wild mustard, wild parsnip and wild snapdragon, and all other weeds and growths not herein specifically mentioned.

We'll miss you Weight Watchers!

2009-10-01T01:26:00.000-07:00

I went to the downtown of Pottsville the other day with a sense of loss and wonder... Actually I ended up with that sense of loss and wonder after I got downtown. It involves the City's plan to demolish the historic International Weight Watchers Building. I looked across the street at the building for perhaps the last time and that is how I ended up with that sense of loss. I understood that progress will be made and a fancy new bus depot will erected there and that is where I got my sense of wonder....wondering where the passengers will come from?
Weight Watchers had been a part of Pottsville’s history and now it will be forgotten. Apparently when the Tilt Silk Mill opened in the late 1800’s it gave employment to hundreds of women. Women’s fashion was becoming big business and management shrewdly noticed that outfits worn by heavy women used more silk than those of slender women, yet the outfits cost the same amount of money. Since this was the Victorian era, a hundred years before the acceptance of hot pants, management focused on getting women to slim down. Yes! there were larger profits in clothing sales if everyone wore smaller sizes.

Weight Watchers was encouraged to open up a facility in Pottsville and the grand opening was sometime after the American Way Fair in 1892. It started off slowly with several women peeking in the door after work on payday, on their way to purchase their weekly supply of Mootz peanut rolls. It took several years for Weight Watchers to gain acceptance in the community a “large girth” was seen as a sign of affluence. After World War I thinness was whispered to be a codeword for creeping Bolshevism. “Better well fed than Red” was a slogan yelled by angry pickets along Centre Street as nervous chubby women wandered into the structure now known as the “International Weight Watchers Building” or IWW. Membership increased to the point that the District Attorney’s office was pressured to do something. Husbands demanded action as thin wives were less likely to be able to do the normal hours of household chores expected of them. The District Attorney had one his detectives - McParlan I believe - infiltrate the IWW; before long deportations were commenced, nearly breaking the back of the IWW.
The IWW building saw a decrease in activity during the depression as whenever one is depressed one tends to eat more. Yes, you heard me correctly….when people are depressed they tend to eat abnormally large amounts of food in a short period of time, even when not hungry. Thus, it was during this great depression that the citizenry tended to pack on the pounds as never before. Some say that Schuylkill County has never recovered from the Great Depression and that is why obesity is still a major concern.

In any event the group running the IWW Building began to relish (no pun intended) its image as a subversive organization. Soon the building’s façade underwent a transformation to its present stunning features. Some say the building reminds one of a giant sardine can with its subliminal message of promoting the consumption of fish. Yes, believe it or not, some people actually think that fish dinners are a healthier alternative to ring bologna and try to hoist this hoax upon the good people of the county. Other critics stated that the architecture of the new facade was pure Khrushchovka found only within the bowels of the Soviet Union during the 1950s. Now demands for more deportations flooded the district attorneys office but the county detectives reported back that nearly all of the women attending the IWW meetings were born in Schuylkill County. Deportations would be fruitless as the ensuing Charlie McCarthy hearings proved to the county.

Yes, I have a sense of loss now. The Tilt Silk Mill has been gone for decades with the local garment industry replaced by cheap labor in China, making cheap clothes for the cheap American women to wear 24/7. And now the IWW Building in downtown Pottsville will be knocked down leaving me only distant memories of the pretty chubby women who once graced the Centre Street premises, parading about in their made-in-America stylish silk garments. I will think of them and that sardine can building often as I try and ease my sense of loss over shots and beers at the Eagles Club.Please join me.

health care ideas

2009-09-15T05:17:00.000-07:00

I did not let my daughter, Santana, go to school the other day. I did not want her to be subjected to listening to the President tell her that she should study hard and make something of herself. It none of his business what she does with her life. I don’t want my child brainwashed by anyone not affiliated with the music industry or the pop culture. No sir-ee. Instead of school we spent the day bonding together. Instead of getting up early to drive her to the bus stop, we drove to Dunkin Donuts for breakfast, then headed down to the check cashing store on Centre Street before purchasing some smokes across the street. We then headed home to watch the Sam Lasante Show. A much better use of her time than listening to some president talk about personal responsibility. However I was curious about Obama’s health care plan and whether it will cover acute bleenia, or only cover not so cute bleenia. There is a difference you know.

After the hour of watching Sam interview Jerry the car dealer, we packed up and headed to Knoebel’s Grove. Since it was a school day it was not overly crowded, just dozens of other kids being protected from exposure to the president (all Republicans), dozens of nerdy home schoolers (mostly all Republicans), and dozens of truants (mostly Democrats).

I hate to digress, but I did notice that there were an awful lot of acutely obese people at the park, or I should say not so cutely obese people. There is a difference you know. Neither one of us had an answer but the Comet Rollercoaster had a hard time going uphill.

While waiting for a ride, we discussed health plan alternatives. I suggested that airports passengers could get full x-rays - not just their luggage or pocket items. This could be much more cost effective. Santana then cried out, “Papa, this could also be done at the courthouse as well as all other government buildings that require security checks!”
I think we trouts were onto something really big. We stumbled upon a way to put a dent in our multi-trillion dollar deficit! Prostate and foot exams as well as mammograms –even singing mammograms - could be done by the security personnel at every airport and government building! It would require some re-training of the security personnel, but that is what stimulus money is for, isn’t it?
Think of the medical savings accomplished with this simple preventative measure, some people would be getting checked once, twice or three times a day, day in day out. The X-ray machine at the Joe Zerbey International Airport as well as the one at the County Courthouse are turned on 24/7. All of that energy will no longer be going to waste.
I needed to talk to someone with authority…. I did not who to call. Then it dawned on me. I would confide with the Pottsville Surgeon General, who is under a Hippocratic oath not to divulge anything discussed by a patient. My…our…idea is bigger than the both of us and the Surgeon General would keep it a secret for now. By the way, he is neither a surgeon, nor a General but that is besides the point.

I called the Eagles Bar on my blackberry and got a hold of the Surgeon General. A press conference at the Courthouse with the Pottsville TV station carrying live coverage of maybe dental or eye exams being given at the entrance was suggested to demonstrate the cost effectiveness of the proposal. He also suggested that a different exam could be given every day of the week and if you passed five exams in a row, you get free large coffee and tastee cake at the Canteen.
Now that is what I call a non-partisan approach to a compromise on such a controversial topic. All the exams will be done by government employees, yet any treatment would still be done by private doctors.

The public and private sectors working hand-in-hand.

Highs and Lows

2009-09-01T02:00:00.000-07:00

I just found out that the Mile High Club is a term applied to individuals who engaged in hanky panky while on board an airplane in flight. I thought it was an actual club, with dues to pay and a membership card to carry. Was I wrong! Mammy and I wanted to become members when we went to the Joe Zerbey International Airport to take the fall foliage tour over the county three years ago. We went on the cheaper flight which also featured dust cropping over the Hegins Valley. When we got off the plane we were so proud that we would become members of such a prestigious group, as we needed to have some club to be mentioned in our obituaries when the time came for that.
But we were flabbergasted that there was no ceremony for us when we alighted from the aircraft. No fan fare whatsoever, just yawns and strange looks. I remember getting a hole in one at Heisler’s golf course and receiving great adulation from the crowd, and everyone hooping and hollering, and me buying milk shakes for everyone. There was none of that getting off the plane; just the stewardess calling for some disinfectant spray. Later in the Joe Zerbey International Airport cocktail lounge, we found out that the Mile High Club is so passé, so utterly '70s. In fact nearly everyone on the fall foliage flight boasted of being members of the club -even those who flew alone.
I did some research and discovered that there is no formally constituted Mile High Club, so membership is in the eye of the beholder. It is not like the Moose, Elks, Masons, Eagles, Hibernians or Illuminati by any means. I know as I am a member of all of the foregoing. I remember joining the Pottsville Moose Lodge decades ago when it was located on South Centre Street. The building is now a bank located across the street from one of Pottsville’s finest parking lots. Yes, I remember the Grand High Exalted Bull Moose Leader blindfolding me and making me walk barefoot on egg shells before I could become a member. Afterwards I was given the official Moose double-breasted jacket and given the official club greeting which was a handshake involving touching elbows (first right, then left). None of that occurred with the Mile High Club. It was a real disappointment. Even when Mammy was initiated as a Vulcanette in the Pottsville Winter Carnival she got a nifty uniform and a button to wear.
Some people attribute the allure of the Mile High Club to the lower atmospheric pressure. Others boast that the vibration of the plane intensifies the experience. Still others the mystique is the thrill of doing something taboo and the risk of being discovered. I think it’s the latter; it is similar to leaving your cell phone turned on (with an obnoxious ringtone waiting to blast some insipid hip hop song) while standing in a county courtroom waiting to have your ARD approved. Or sneaking in line at the bleenie stand.
In any event Mammy and I heard rumors that there was a Mile Low Club at the Pioneer Tunnel in Ashland. So, once again we thought we would give it a try. We paid the nine dollar admission - despite our attempts to get it lowered by flashing our AARP and AAA cards. Again, we faced disappointment. No discounts for us. Once inside Mammy began complaining that the tunnel was too cold and the coal car too bumpy. I complained about all of the cub scouts and brownies that were traveling with us. I ended up giving her my double-breasted Moose jacket that I was wearing, just too keep her warm. When we left the tunnel, we headed to the Ashland High Uppers Park, and like a couple of kids we unfolded the Moose jacket and used it as a picnic blanket, sprawled out, and finished off a six pack of Pepper’s Ginger Ale and ate some ring bologna before heading home.

It was a great day to be alive, club or no club.

this is my 100th blog!