Your Life Is Closer To Over: The Occasional Week In Review by Brian Phillips

News 

The all seeing eye of our vast unchecked national security state was brought to the fore this week with a couple of fascinating pieces. U.S. based journallist Glenn Greenwald, writing for UK publication The Guardian, made international headlines with his article on a leaked top secret FISA court order.  Phone carrier Verizon was compelled by that court to turn over troves of "metadata" to the National Security Agency. Close behind, The Washington Post piled on with their reporting on the so called PRISM program. The NSA reportedly has back door access to the web. Sunday the stunning news broke that the Guardian's leaker outed himself while holed up in a hotel room in Hong Kong. 29 year old ex-CIA computer wiz Edward Snowden, under the employ of noted defense contractor Booz Allen, became perhaps the most famous leaker since Daniel Ellsburg. (Although Bradley Manning would probably take issue with that. Manning went on trial this week.) 

A Few Thoughts:

1. Is it just me, or does the NSA strategy seem like the Kevin Bacon Game. I'm just a dumb dj, but the idea behind efforts like the Verizon data dump (and believe me, all the  carriers are being compelled to give the feds the same shit) seems to be the use of complex algorithms to establish connections between people. In other words, how many degrees are you or I separated from each other, or a terrorist?  How many degrees and how many connections make a person interesting to them? Dangerous? Is this even efficient? (never mind the moral and constitutional issues.)

2. All this stuff costs billions.... off the books, black budget unaccountable billions. Is it even irony any more when we learn that Mr. Snowden's employer is Booz Allen? Former Booz Allen CEO James Clapper is.... wait for it.... President Obama's current director of National Intelligence. Our entire national security apparatus is a lot like the rest of our government: a revolving door. There's a lot of money on the table, and well connected contractors waiting to take it. All this scary shit the NSA is involved with may not even work. Maybe that's beside the point. Contractors like Booz Allen are making serious money regardless. 

3. It's instructive that outside the White House, the NSA, lawmaker lizards like Lindsay Graham and Diane Feinstein, and pliant beltway pundits, there seems to be little outrage on the part of the public that the NSA's secrets were made public. (And I'm sure the greatest majority of all is comprised of people who don't care either way). I get a sense that a sizable chunk of the population who pays attention is getting mighty tired of this Faustian Bargain we've made for our "safety." Some of us are generally frightened by this vast, unaccountable bureaucracy and we'd like to see it reigned in. Or maybe that's just my own little feedback loop. 

4. I could probably find a Myspace post or a recorded bar conversation or two from back in the day where I stated my concerns about the Patriot Act. No matter. Timing is everything and times being what they were a decade or so ago, we're left this. 

5. It's not enough for them to offer assurances. The founders never intended for our affairs to be carried out this manner. "Just Trust Us" is not printed on the dollar bill. At least not yet. 

Elsewhere 

Not widely reported last week was the arrest of the man responsible for the outing of people and information surrounding the Steubenville High School rape case. 26 year old Deric Lostutter will probably do more time than anyone else connected to the case. How did they find him? Perhaps the answer is above.

I'm not going to even try to explain to you all the angles in the story of alleged crack smoker Toronto Mayor Rob Ford. Gawker has been all over it, even going so far as to attempt to raise money to buy video of Ford sucking on a pipe. Use this as your launch point if you're so inclined and join me in asking how he got elected, and why he's still in office.  

Don't miss this article on theories that Queen Elizabeth I was a dude. Fascinating. 

It's storm season, and if you have a damaged tree don't try to remove it like these fellas.  

Hey look, I remember high school. Sometimes cheerleaders were mean.... not this mean though. Cheerleader pimps out class mate.  

 Sports

If ESPN could crap itself it would over news the Patriots have signed Tim Tebow. Scratch that. ESPN does crap itself everyday when Skip Bayless takes to the air.  

Hey I ain't proud, but I own Ryan Braun in three fantasy leagues. (I should also not be proud of how many leagues I'm in.) I think Braun will make it through the season unless his bad thumb gets him. That said MLB won't rest until they have his steroid bloated head on a stick.  

Indians closer Chris Perez is real bright. He's accused of having pot mailed to his house. There's a 4.20 ERA joke in there somewhere.

My Mariners played in one of the all time weirdest extra inning games last week. Of course they lost. That's a stupid question.  

 And Finally Tonight

  Update yourself on Anti Semitic Elmo. 

Brian Phillips is the afternoon DJ at the legendary FM Indi Rock Station CD102.5. You can learn more about him and other Pencilstorm contributors here. 

 

Your Life Is Closer To Over: The Week That Was by Brian Phillips

I missed last week, but for good reason. Friday it was the Mariners and Tribe with my brother in Cleveland. The M's are, including that night, 1-8 since. I feel privileged to have witnessed the beginning of the end of their season.

Saturday and Sunday I was taking in my youngest's soccer tournament in Hilliard. The Dragons successfully defended their MOSSL title and Izzy successfully passed her first concussion test. (The final was a rough affair to say the least). ​I was actually quite calm through the whole thing. I didn't think it would help to flip out, run on the field and push down the kid who crunched my daughter's head into the turf. Being a grown up is hard.

Sunday was weird in that I attended Rock On The Range with my 15 year old. I didn't embarrass her too much. I'm pretty sure I was way more into Soundgarden than she. On the way to Crew Stadium "Flower" came on my Ipod and I commented that there was no way they'd play this late 80's obscurity. Not only was a I wrong, but they opened with it!​

News

​It's Memorial Day and all across America we remember those who gave all, and thank those who serve or served.... as it should be. Unfortunately it's not enough. We have a growing epidemic of men and women suffering in silence, behind a facade of post traumatic stress syndrome and severe head trauma. Our military health system is woefully inadequate to treat the scores who used to die in such circumstances. Today improved emergency care and better protective equipment keep them alive only to be returned state side to indifference and neglect. Read this piece and get really angry. Is the military drumming young people out so they don't have to pay for their treatment? Draw your own conclusions. 

Meanwhile the Boston Bombing case continues to generate the weird on many fronts. A friend of the dead bomber was about to confess to role in a 2011 triple murder when he attacked law enforcement and was shot dead they say. It's been theorized that dead bomber was involved in the unsolved crime. 

Last week two FBI agents involved in the shoot out with the Boston Bombers fell out of a helicopter and died, and Alex Jones just shit his pants. ​

Speaking of Jones, he says the Oklahoma tornadoes could have been steered toward their target by the government. Of course they were Alex duh... 

This article on a Facebook page dedicated to reuniting tornado victims with lost mementos will restore some faith in humanity unless you're completely dead inside. Some pictures were found about 100 miles away. ​

When you read this remember that banks have been gently reminded to end such practices. "Oh well' says the government, 'we did all we could.' ​

Anyone living in Western Washington will tell you that losing this bridge really sucks. Welcome to America's crumbling infrastructure. ​Fortunately no one was killed. 

If you haven't been following the story, the singer for Christian metal band As I Lay Dying is accused of trying to hire a hit man to kill his estranged wife. Now we have his defense: Roid Rage. Perhaps it would work better if he attempted the crime himself, but 'steroids caused my client to methodically seek out and hire a professional killer' doesn't have the same ring to it. Good luck with that. (By the way the hired gun was actually an undercover cop. I know big surprise there.)

The death of Doors founding member Ray Manzarek reminds that all those guys are going fast now. Mazarek was a guest on the morning show I produced in Seattle back in the day. I remember him smoking in our lunch room and talking a lot about the Doors. I've always been more impressed by the fact that he produced their first four X albums. ​

​Sports

​​This is why many stadiums and arenas have you pour your beer in a cup. Orioles outfielder Nate McClouth was nearly killed by fan hurling full can out of upper deck. By the way check out the catch. 

A favorite pass time of mine since the NBA stole the Sonics from Seattle has been bashing the league. I'd like to thank Charles Barkley for this ammunition. 

And Finally Tonight​

A Minute Maid Park snow cone vendor has been fired. This after a fan captured the man on his cellphone enter a bathroom stall, set his snow cones on the floor, and take a dump. That's awesome!​

​And you can't go without reading this. Man runs out of gas, sets up drum set on freeway berm. 

A Blog About Losing a Mom, Trying to Become a Mom

          "I Should Have Had Ten of You"​

My sister Kellie has been writing this blog since August 2012 and it has gained quite a dedicated following. As a successful paralegal working in Atlanta, I have no idea how she churns out as much material as she does, but she updates constantly. In short, the blog concerns her struggling to overcome the death of her (and my) Mother from cancer while attempting, and often failing at becoming a mother herself. The writing at times is painfully personal and not for the weak of heart. But If you stick it out, it is a powerful testimonial that for some, Mother's Day isn't just May 12th, it is everyday of the year.

Click here for a link to the very first post where Kellie explains where has she came up with the title and what the blog is all about. ​

Colin Gawel is the brother of Kellie Caldwell and plays in the band Watershed and writes for Pencilstorm.  www.colingawel.com

Your Life Is Closer To Over: The Week That Was by Brian Phillips

In case you missed the first in our series last week, this is essentially a digest of various things I found interesting enough to pollute my Facebook feed with last week. Don't worry though, no Farm House game invites or whatever the hell that is. Farm House isn't correct. That was an ag major frat at Washington State. The only thing I can recall about Farm House was the Farm House Rodeo. I heard they put hay bales in the front yard and members would sit on the them and drink until they fell over. Last man on his bale won the rodeo. Sounds about right.​

News

​Speaking of bales.... The President Of The Graveyard of Empires says "hey America, thanks for the bales of cash!" In fairness Afghan President Karzai called the payments a "small amount," which is probably horseshit. What do we get for our C.I.A. funneled cash payments? I'm sure some of the money ended up with people who used the funds to kill American soldiers. And I can't imagine all that dough sloshing around Godforesaken Afghanistan without some of it washing up against the heroin trade, but I'm just spitballin' here.  

I found this backgrounder on the Boston Bomber's family interesting. ​Meanwhile The Daily Mail reports the Saudis warned the U.S. about the elder brother after they refused him entrance for a pilgrimage to Mecca. As we learned with 9-11 the Saudis like Jihadis best when their someone else's problem. We'll see if we ever get any satisfactory answers as to why this clown wasn't kicked out of the country. Also, what friends young brother had!

Want to read a really scary article about fracking? Read it anyway. ​

Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi had yet another dispatch this week. This one is just as depressing as the others. The cleaning up of mortgage malpractice never really happened.

Did you read about this survey? An alarming number of Americans believe we may need an armed revolution soon. There are two problems with this. 1. At some point having a revolution involves effort. 2. What do you think is going to happen when you start said revolution? I know we can become frustrated when things don't seem to be right, but seriously calm the fuck down. Also of note a large minority of those surveyed believe they're being lied to on Sandy Hook. Again, seriously... calm the fuck down.

Sports

​Deadspin has it about right. The NBA is using Seattle just like the NFL uses L.A. Seattle is the league's arena boogeyman! "Build us a new joint or we're going to Seattle!" The Sacramento Kings will likely not be headed north after the NBA's relocation committee voted against recommending a Seattle ownership group. Here's the fun part! The chair of said committee is Oklahoma City Thunder owner and all around creep Clay Bennett. Watch this movie, it's pretty good.

Not to be outdone the owner of the Cubs has threatened to move his shitty team out of Wrigley if he doesn't get a new scoreboard. That's laughable on it's face. What this is really about is the 17% revenue share the Cubs cut with building owners across the street. The proposed scoreboard would kill their business. The Cubbies kind of painted themselves into a corner with this one. ​I smell Oklahoma City Cubs!

Even with Jason Collins dominating the news, perhaps you didn't take the time to read his self-penned Sport Illustrated cover story. Don't miss it. ​Years ago former major league journeyman Billy Bean (not the A's GM) wrote a great book about his life as a closeted athlete. 

Great piece in USA Today last week on the Braves' Evan Gattis. What a road for this 25 year old rookie. Clinically depressed, wandering America working a series a dead end jobs only to make the Braves out of spring training and rake. ​

​I'll be writing more soon on baseball and specifically the weird first month and change of the season. If you're wondering as I am about the collapse of Josh Hamilton read this. Yes it's filled with mind numbing sabermetrics, but the conclusion is unmistakable. Hamilton is swinging his bat like a lab rat pushing the cheese lever. 

Jet fan! Feeling great about Geno Smith? Everything about this kid is screaming head case. Perfect for Rex Ryan's "confused quarterback-centric" offense. ​Tim Tebow got the gas pipe of course and it didn't take the wise acres long to have their fun. 

And lastly in sports why was this kid wandering across an NBA court with his pants down? ​

And Finally Tonight

​A 14 year old Chicago teen learned a valuable life lesson when the prostitute he hired online stole his Ipad and Piggy Bank. She's been arrested. Yes I choose to believe he was going to pay her by cracking open his piggy bank.

Tom and Randy, Pool Detectives

We really were like a couple of mismatched detectives. Randy, a tall, athletic, light-skinned African American dude from Findlay, and me, a pale, scrawny, long-haired kid from Powell. Randy looked most of the time like he was coming from a basketball game but had had time to shower, and I, most of the time, looked like a Third World freedom fighter who had been sniffing glue and needed sleep and was wearing more clothing than the weather called for.

Randy was well-spoken, and I was a bit of a mumbler who didn’t like to look you in the eye. If we were on the trail of the same killer, like most mismatched detectives, I would not have survived the scene where we get into a brawl. But we weren’t on the trail of the same killer – it was just that we met in college, and had found that we had a lot more in common than you’d think. Mostly, what we had in common was icy cold beers, poker, and pool.

See, the way it worked back then was, we didn’t have telephones in our pockets. We had them in our apartments, and there were little boxes attached to the phones which recorded messages on cassette tapes. Right about then, they were coming out with these “answering machines” which did not use tapes, but instead made digital recordings. That was the kind of thing that could flat blow my mind.

So what we’d do was, while we were throwing cards around on a picnic table the night before, we’d compare notes about class schedules, work schedules, and papers due, and we’d determine when we could both stop doing productive things, and we’d say, okay so that’s when we’ll meet at the Drake Union, where they had cheap pool tables, and draft beer for a buck and a quarter.

That particular day, the time we figured we could stop being productive was three o’clock. Yes, it was a Monday – so what?

We’d simply get a table and then play game after game of eight ball, usually balancing out pretty evenly, sometimes slanting over toward an embarrassingly one-sided ass kicking, and then slanting back. We’d play for beers so, that mattered.

Frequently, the money would then slide back over the card table later that night, finding its way home. It was a lot like we drank the same twenty bucks for several years, just rolling back and forth between us.

Ostensibly, the reason the Drake Union on the OSU campus had a pool hall was that you could take billiards classes. There were a few bowling lanes, too, if you were into that sort of thing – which we weren’t. Now, why was there also beer for sale in the OSU building? I have no idea.

I’m not sure, but my guess would be, they probably cut that out by now.

The Drake Union was on the north side of campus, not too far from the Horseshoe. It was a fairly complicated building, and you had to know your way around to find the basement pool hall, cutting through several study rooms – bristling with students who were not there to drink beer in the middle of the afternoon - and then down a quiet, tiled hallway with a couple of bathrooms to one side, and then you’d open a door. There was barely even a sign.

Inside, it was so relaxing that it made us suspicious the first time we found it. A dozen or so decent tables, a sound system that was perfectly adequate but easy to talk over, and a little bar with a bored guy behind it, who only sold draft beer. Was this some kind of trap?

Nope, not a trap. Just tip that bartender a few bucks right off the bat, and buddy, you owned the place.

That afternoon bled into the early evening pretty smoothly, and resulted in a half dozen trips to the bathroom. Both Randy and I clearly noticed each time we went in that there was somebody sitting in one of the stalls, on the toilet. You might think that after six times or so, we’d say, man, there’s always somebody in that same stall, or maybe, gee, I wonder if that’s the same guy sitting in that stall all this time?

Since I can’t smell, I couldn’t tell you if there was an odor, but if there was, Randy didn’t pick it up, or he thought to himself, unpleasant smell in the Men’s Room, not exactly a big news story.

So we rocked in and out of there for several hours, taking leaks, washing hands, and despite our heightened Pool Detective skills – you see things, we observe them – it did not occur to us for a second that there was a dead guy in there, until the cops showed up.

Apparently there an elderly man who had been an usher at every home OSU game for thirty or forty years, who followed the same routine every game. He’d go to the campus McDonald’s, get a breakfast sandwich and coffee, and then he’d walk across campus to the game. He was a remarkable figure, apparently, to the general Horseshoe community; they recognized him and thought of him like a minor folk hero. A true Buckeye, they’d say.

So when he didn’t show up that day, it made the news. The guy had been in the news before, in a little human interest piece – he’d been an usher a really long time and looked like he was going to do it until the day he died, the piece said. A little column, I think, in the Dispatch.

And it was right. Two days before Randy and I cracked the case – well, practically cracked it. I mean, we were there, when it was cracked, and we’d been in the room with the dead body quite a few times, taking a leak, thinking, man, I love playing pool and drinking a few icy cold beers.

So anyway, two days before Randy and I practically cracked the case, the usher came into the Drake Union to use the bathroom, and he died in a stall, and he sat there for two days.

Our investigation later revealed that the cleaning guy had encountered him Saturday night. He’d been wearing a Walkman – which was an iPod the size of a brick that used cassette tapes like the answering machines did – and so when he opened the door, it hit someone’s knee and he just said, “Oh, my bad, sorry dude.”

And since he was wearing his Walkman, he didn’t register that the guy didn’t answer. He certainly didn’t think to himself, better check and see if that guy’s dead.

Eventually, the bartender found him. You probably think that means the bartender cracked the case, but don’t be ridiculous. Bartenders pour beers, they don’t crack cases. To crack a case, you have to be a pool detective. That’s where me and Randy came in.

Sure, our investigation began after the cops arrived, and sure, they hogged the collar. They were all like, we’re cops and you guys are half in the bag and you didn’t even notice he was in here and one of you isn’t even twenty-one.

We were used to it. We knew that cops and pool detectives should be on the same side, but there was always infighting. Posturing. Look at me, I’m an actual law enforcement officer, and you’re a not-very-serious-or-observant college student.

Sometimes you hit the mean streets, we’d found, and sometimes the mean streets hit you back.

But that’s how it is, the life of a couple of pool detectives. No one thanks you, everyone’s out for themselves, everyone’s focused on who actually detected stuff. I mean, sure, our methods were unorthodox. Damn straight, we ruffled some feathers, broke a few rules. Stepped on a few toes, you know what I’m saying?

But we got RESULTS. Or at least, we were frequently hanging around with beers in our hands, when the results showed up.

One time a guy stole Randy’s ID, and then four months later the guy came into the bar I worked in, recognized me, and said, “Hey man, I stole your pal’s ID. Here it is.” Then me and Randy and him sat down and had a few beers and a couple of laughs about it.

That’s kind of like cracking a case, although again, the case did just sort of crack right in front of me, while I was thinking about something else.

You know what, I’m tired of talking about this. We were super duper pool detectives, I’m telling you.

Jeez.

Your Life Is Closer To Over: The Week That Was. by Brian Phillips

Our editor Colin Gawel has been on me, and with good reason. I haven't written a damned thing in weeks. We've given up on my finishing the baseball preview. I got through the American League in March, and started the NL. Now we're a month into the season, and it seems pointless now. To get on the record regarding the senior circuit I'll go with Atlanta, Cincinnati, and San Francisco with the Nationals and Cardinals nabbing the wild cards. Atlanta and Detroit in the series. Detroit wins it all. The Marlins will lose 115 games. 

Anyway the idea Colin had over the weekend was for me to draw from my Facebook feed and come up with a digest of the week that was. And why not, though I should warn you that we'll cover everything from interest rate swap rigging to a Wal Mart employee turning tricks in the can during work hours. I'll leave it to you to decide which is worse, though your answer no doubt tells us a lot about you.​

​Sports

​What a run by the Columbus Blue Jackets! The CBJ came up a tie-breaker shy of qualifying for the playoffs for only the second time in franchise history Saturday. The CBJ completed a furious 8-2 finish with Saturday's 3-1 win over Nashville at Nationwide Arena. I was there. The atmosphere was electric. Now the Jackets move to the Eastern Conference with it's somewhat softer competition, and many fewer trips out of the Eastern time zone. Behind goaltender Sergei Bobrovsky the Jackets will make some racket next season. Just to cause trouble check this out. Were the Jackets robbed? Most likely. 

Meanwhile up I-71 The Columbus Crew shook off a disappointing performance in Chicago to rip DC United 3-0. I think we'll see a lot more of Jairo Arrieta and newcomer Dominic Orduro running up top together. Unfortunately you'll see none of their fine work on Sport Center. You will however see the Crew Stadium scoreboard on fire. ​

​It appears the blaze started in the scoreboard's speaker system and should be a pretty easy fix. 

The NFL Draft concluded Saturday. My criticisms of Seattle's picks last year only proved my ignorance. I'll leave the punditry to the McShay's and Kuiper's of the world. I will only say that the Bills probably got a steal in undrafted wide receiver Da'Rick Rogers out of Tennessee Tech. Rogers was on his way to a stellar career at Tennessee when he got himself into a bit of drug trouble. For more on the value of so called "weed guy" players see Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi's hilarious third annual "The NFL Draft Decoded." 

News

​George Jones died at the age of 81 Friday. "No Show Jones" lived a hard life, and yet made it to 81 and toured almost to the end, proving once more that booze, cocaine, pills, a fully fueled riding lawnmower, and access to firearms are the key to a long life. For a jaw dropping read, seek out Jones' 1997 autobiography "I Lived To Tell It All." I cannot do it justice here. (Yes, they duct taped him to a mic stand once so he could stand up and perform. Yes, he did leave his Cadillac running, doors open, on the sidewalk in front of the Nashville airport.)

Prediction: The Boston Bombings are about to become an embarrassment for our Homeland Security establishment. ​This idea that older brother had aroused attention up to two years ago raises many questions. Most of those questions will be answered no doubt by subjecting you and I to more cavity searches and x-rays. Yay! 

On a side note, I read that the older brother was influenced by Alex Jones and his Infowars site. Jones took 3.9 seconds after the bombings to Tweet that they were an inside job. To help focus your thinking on the more fringe aspects of the story, I present this helpful chart. 

This may have slipped by you with everything else going on last week. The Steubenville School Board extended a giant middle finger to the rest of America by quietly renewing the contract of head football coach Reno Saccoccia for another two years for something called "Director Of Administrative Services." This gig has nothing to do with his head coaching job and probably doesn't have much to do with anything at else either. Take heart though, by the end of last week the Attorney General's office was executing search warrants at ol Steubenville High. Coach Reno will have to answer for what he did and didn't do yet. 

Late last week Matt Taibbi (yes the same guy who wrote the NFL piece above) published on Rolling Stone.com his latest on more unimaginable corruption, this time the investigation into the manipulation of interest rate swaps. As arcane as this material can be, Taibbi has a real gift for making it understandable. Read it as I do; with the knowledge that nothing will be done. Our economy and government has been captured by what is essentially organized crime, and it costs everyone more so these few can take a healthy skim from everything. 

Remember the Mississippi Elvis Impersonator arrested on suspicion of sending ricin tainted letters to the White House and Senate? Well you know what the King said about Suspicious Minds. Just today another man, who had perhaps had some sort of feud with the fake Elvis, has been arrested. ​In 2007 James Everett Dutschke lost a Mississippi State Senate election. One of the folks who received one of his ricin direct mail pieces was allegedly the mother of the man who beat him. I'll be following this one because I love weird shit.

I almost hesitate to post this as we've had so many false leads in this story over the decades. Authorities are investigating whether remains found in the wall of a Cleveland bar may be those of long missing Teamster head Jimmy Hoffa. The previous owner found some years ago, and police curiously told him to throw them out. Hey that was the 70's and if you remember that decade people were throwing out body parts all the time. ​

And Finally Tonight

​You won't find this offer in your Sunday circular. An upstate New York Wal Mart associate has been charged with prostitution. Police say the 22 year old was turning tricks in the mens room during work hours. Foster Bills advertised his services on Craigslist.