Rick Oliveri vs The Suits

Let us consider that unique icon of Philadelphia gastronomic legend: the cheesesteak. It is a succulent delight, with thinly chopped prime beef, melted cheese (provolone for me, please) and, if you dare, sautéed onions and peppers. This is all presented for your pleasure on a long roll, where the meat juices soak the back of the bun, spreading its tastiness further than a cold cut hoagie ever could.

Here in Southeastern Pennsylvania, there is something like ten fast food shops serving cheesesteaks for every man, woman and child living in the area. Okay, this might be a slight exaggeration, but it certainly seems as if you could get this sandwich on every corner. Of all the places serving cheesesteaks, there are a very few that can be trusted to give you the authentic sandwich as it was originally presented during the Great Depression. One of these places is Rick’s Steaks in the Reading Terminal Market.

Anne Marie and I happened to meet Rick himself during our recent trip into Center City. He is a third generation Oliveri, the family that is credited with creating the cheesesteak over seventy years ago. He is young, handsome and hard working. His outlet is not the sole Oliveri cheesesteak place in town – the other is Pat’s, The King of Steaks – which is why he bills his place as Rick’s, The Prince of Steaks.

Unfortunately, Rick has been the center of controversy during the last few months. His lease expired at the end of June and the Market management is refusing to renew it. They want to bring in another South Philly competitor (Tony Luke’s) to occupy Rick’s stall. The problem is that Rick, sensing another motive for the Market’s action, is refusing to leave.

Rick has a lot of support behind him. The other Market vendors are in his corner, since Rick helped negotiate new leases for many of them. Anne Marie and I have been following this story and she told him that he was getting screwed. We dined at his stand, signed his petition to let him stay, and watched the man at work. At one point, he was bussing tables and wiping down the countertops, explaining that this work keeps him humble.

We ate our sandwiches and watched the brisk lunchtime business at Rick’s stall. Naturally, I had my sandwich with ketchup, and I drenched my fries with my favorite condiment. Yes, I did leave enough ketchup at the table for the other patrons to use.

We asked him what’s next in his fight against the corporate suits. Rick answered that he’s just hanging in for now. It’s all in the hands of the lawyers at the moment, and although the Market is within their rights to evict him, it would give Reading Terminal a public relations headache. Yes it would be very bad publicity to see footage of Rick Oliveri dragged out of his stall and thrown into 12th Street on the evening news. The Market is understandably proceeding cautiously, given the public outcry to keep Rick’s Steaks in business.

We wished Rick luck as we left him to battle the giants of corporate greed. Anne Marie and I hope that this prince will stay for years to come. The Reading Terminal Market would not be the same without Rick’s Steaks.

The Conservative's Nightmare

Little Ann woke up crying one night, and she sat up in her bed. Her room was dark, and the air seemed cold. She jumped down from her bed, clutched her Ronald Reagan Teddy Bear to her chest, and ran down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. When she got there, her parents weren’t there, and so she ran to the end of the hall and down the stairs into the living room. There she saw a familiar figure in her father’s easy chair, keeping himself warm by the fire.

“Uncle Rush!” Ann exclaimed, “I’ve had a bad dream!”

“That’s too bad, Ann!” Uncle Rush answered, “Climb up here and tell me all about it!”

Ann climbed up on her uncle’s knee, pulled her nightshirt down over her knees, folded her long legs underneath her, and let her long blonde hair fall over her shoulders. Uncle Rush put his arm around her and patted her on the arm.

“Now, what’s wrong?”

“Well, I heard the news yesterday about Alberto leaving, and Uncle Karl is leaving next week, and a lot of people are saying nasty things about the President, and I dreamt that all the liberals were in the streets singing and dancing, and giving each other high-fives and they were happy! And it made me very sad.”

“I know, I know. Happy liberals make me sad too,” Uncle Rush said, “But you know, honey, they may be happy today, but they will be miserable tomorrow.”

“Really?” Ann said hopefully.

“Of course! They just played their partisan political games and it seems as if they have the upper hand now. But don’t you fret! Someday, the conservatives will be back in power and the shoe will be on the other foot. Then we’ll be the ones dancing in the streets!”

“But what about Alberto? He had integrity and he was smart and...now he can’t serve the public anymore,” Ann whimpered.

“I know it doesn’t seem fair, but he’ll be okay. I’ve been thinking about hiring him to work in my garden...until he gets on his feet again.”

“Really? Oh boy! It’ll be so nice to have Alberto living here with us! Uncle Rush, when will Mom and Dad come home?”

“Oh, I don’t really know, Ann. They’re out fighting the terrorists for you and me. They may be gone a long time. You may even be all grown up and have children of your own before they come home.”

“I miss them,” Ann said, “I wish they could come home soon!”

“Now, now, missy. I’ll have none of that liberal talk in my house,” Uncle Rush replied as he choked on his prescription pain medication and a glass of water.

“Sorry!”

“Your parents will come home when their job is done. In the meantime, I’ll be here to protect you from the terrorists, and the liberals, and the gays with their agenda, and the feminazis, and all those other bleeding hearts that would make our world less safe to live in.”

“Thank you, Uncle Rush,” Ann yawned, “I feel sleepy again.”

“Good! Now just do what I do when I go to sleep. Imagine you’re in a field with a lot of little lambs. Now you name all the lambs in that field until you’re fast asleep. Do you remember what they’re names are?”

“Ditto?”

“That’s right, Ditto! Now start naming them.”

Ann closed her eyes and said the words, “Ditto...ditto...ditto...” until she was fast asleep.

Redemption and Salvation in Philadelphia

There was once a time in Western culture when if a person made a mistake, endured the consequences of that mistake, then redeemed himself or herself by devoting their time to good acts, then the past mistake would be forgiven. This concept has been instilled in all of us either in our churches or in our homes by our parents. Now it appears that my hometown, Philadelphia (the City of Brotherly Love), has suddenly decided to drop out of Western culture.

Here is the full story: in November of 1966 a Philadelphia policeman, William T. Barclay, answered a burglary call. The suspect, William J. Barnes, shot him while escaping, and the wounds left the officer paralyzed for life. Barnes was later arrested, convicted, and served nearly 15 years for the charge of attempted murder. Barnes has had a few more run-ins with the law, but in more recent years he has reformed and turned his life around.

A few days ago Barclay died, and the deputy coroner attributed his death to complications from the wounds he suffered in the shooting 41 years earlier. Philadelphia police now charged Barnes with homicide and arrested him at his work place, a Shop-Rite food market. The case is now in the hands of the DA whether to go forward or not.

The police admit that they are wading into uncharted waters in prosecuting Barnes again. Although state law allows them to pursue another conviction, this may be a case when just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should do it. Law enforcement is a difficult enough job without resorting to the legal shenanigans as this case is turning out to be. Why make your job harder, Philadelphia Police Department?

Granted, Barclay’s life was utterly destroyed that night in 1966. He never realized his full potential, and he probably suffered a great amount of pain for many years. The original sentence given to Barnes may or may not have been appropriate for the crime – many people might argue he should’ve received more time – but society will always second-guess sentencing guidelines.

This is not a matter of a bleeding heart liberal taking the side of a convicted felon who deserves a break. This is about the concept of double jeopardy or that guarantee that a person cannot be tried for the same crime twice. Yes, the authorities will argue that this is a new charge, but it is still based on the same criminal event for which the culprit has already served time.

The DA should also consider if moving forward with this case at this time is practical. It’s not like they have anything else to do at the moment except for the 270 odd murders in the city this year. Wouldn’t this old case take away resources from other recent cases that also deserve to be tried? In the time it would take the DA to try the Barnes case, potential witnesses of the other cases may reconsider testifying, die, or be killed. The witnesses testimony could also become less credible as time goes on and memories of events fade. This could mean the difference between a conviction and a release for a career criminal.

Let’s put ourselves in Barnes’ shoes. Yes, we would admit that we made mistakes, but we would still long for the chance to correct our lives and make things right, or as right as possible. However, if we know that society could still persecute us for an event for which we have already served time, then the incentive to be a better person would be lost. We could rightly think to ourselves, “What the hell! I got caught once, but I won’t get caught again,” and we would revert back to our criminal ways.

These concepts of redemption and salvation are the incentives to all humanity to make the world a better place. Once we take away these ideas, then our Judeo-Christian legacy will break down into a society that spirals downward into self-destruction. I’m hoping that these ideals do not go the way of the vinyl record – a quaint, obsolete notion that no one wants anymore.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedershen to Karl Rove

Deputy Presidential adviser Karl Rove announced his resignation last Monday, expressing a desire to spend more time with his family. Translation: “Wow! That last subpoena was pretty close! I better high-tail it back to Texas while I still have a good-looking resume.”

I write this today not to praise Karl Rove, but to bury him in a very deep hole. I have in mind a hole so deep that his brand of partisan politics doesn’t bubble up its toxic sludge for at least a few years. His partisanship sunk any reform needed for Social Security, stifled any compromise on the war in Iraq, and he is probably also responsible for everyone’s cable going down during the last moments of the final episode of “The Sopranos.” Yes, his influence was felt in more ways than we will ever know.

The news of his imminent departure drew praise and ire for his accomplishments. President Bush lauded his friend for their work together to serve America. Current Democratic Presidential candidate John Edwards was quoted as saying simply, “Good bye, good riddance!” Can’t you just feel the love for this man?

As for myself, I have mixed feelings about this. I’m happy that he’s leaving, but I wish he had done it about six years sooner. On the other hand, Rove and Cheney appear to be the real brains of the Bush administration. If the Bush people were doing stupid things before, what are they going to be like with half of their brain trust gone?

Rove’s leaving voluntarily also deprives his critics of fulfilling their fantasy. Namely, dragging the SOB out of the White House by his gonads, and over to Lafayette Square where he would be drawn and quartered. Oh well, I’m sure the Democratic Congress will try their best to make him answer to any misdeeds he may have committed while in office. There may not be any blood spilled on Pennsylvania Avenue, but perhaps a few legacies will be tarnished.

The timing of Rove’s departure seems a bit strange. The Gonzales debacle has quieted down in the media, but this could be chalked up to the normal summer recess Congress takes to escape the heat of a typical Washington August. It is quite possible that something new is about to explode in the face of the Bush administration, and Karl wants to be a safe distance away when the bomb goes off.

We may not have seen the last of the ole turd blossom yet...

Short Notes – August 2007

The following news items deserve some sort of commentary, but unfortunately not enough to fulfill my minimum seven paragraphs requirement.

Hitler’s Record Collection

Recently, news has been released that Adolph Hitler's collection of favorite recordings were found in the attic of a deceased Russian intelligence officer. Among Der Fuhrer’s favorite composers were Tchiakovsky, as well as various Polish and Jewish composers. The report also noted that Hitler would secretly listen to these recordings, since the works of these composers were banned in Nazi Germany.

This is just wonderful! Of all the horrible things this man did, now he turns out to be a hypocrite too! How can the current crop of neo-Nazis ever respect a maniacal, psychopathic, mass-murdering dictator who can’t abide by his own rules? I don’t know what makes him look so great to some people! What is the world coming to?

The 30th Anniversary of Elvis Going to That Great Heartbreak Hotel in the Sky

The King died on this date thirty years ago. Many fans will travel to Memphis to tour his estate at Graceland, pay their respects, and fork over whatever is left of their meager savings to every huckster selling Elvis t-shirts, Elvis shot glasses, Elvis commemerative prescription bottles, and anything else on which they can put Elvis’ image within the Memphis city limits. There has to be a better way to celebrate the life of a great entertainer.

I would play one of his songs (“Can’t Help Falling in Love” is my favorite) as my own way of remembering his passing. Then I would write a simple message to all of his fans: “The king is dead! Get over it! Get a life!”

The thirtieth anniversary of Groucho Marx passing away happens this Sunday. Am I going to get all morose and drink myself into a stupor? No! Will I make a pilgrimage to his gravesite and ask, “Hey, Groucho, what’s the secret word?” No! Am I going to sit in front of a television all day and play all of my Marx Brothers tapes? Well, that might not be a bad idea...I mean, no, of course not! I may insult a dowager in Groucho’s memory, but beyond that I have too many other things to accomplish that day.

What’s Your Spin!

(Television audience applause and cheesy production music up under announcer’s message.)

Announcer: “It’s time once again to play the most popular game inside the Beltway - What’s Your Spin! And here is our host, Rhett Crit!”

Crit: “Thanks, Abdul, and welcome everyone to another episode of What’s Your Spin! The game show where politicians take the most serious crisis of the day and spin it to make themselves look good to the rest of the world. Last time, we left off with the Red Team represented by the Bush White House. Welcome back, guys!”

Dubya, Dick and Karl: “Hi, thanks. Great to be here.”

Crit: “And the Blue Team represented by the Democratic Congressional Leadership.”

Nancy, Harry and Hillary: “Hello.” “Hi!”

Crit: “I hope you’re all ready to play. Everyone knows how this is done, right? I’ll read a statement summarizing an important issue, and each team will get a chance to make a statement about that issue. Ready? Okay, our first statement today is: Global warming does exist and will have catastrophic consequences for all life on Earth. Blue Team, I believe you won the toss. What’s your statement?”

Hillary: “Hi, Rhett. Well, this is just another example of how the President and his men have ignored the dire predictions of the world’s scientists because it didn’t fit in with their political agenda.”

(Applause)

Crit: “Okay, Hillary. Red Team?”

Dubya: “Yes, we realize that global warming is a very serious issue and that means we take this issue very seriously. But let’s look at this cloud’s silver lining. In two hundred years, the poverty-stricken residents of Appalachia won’t have to drive hundreds of miles to the get to the beach, because they’ll be living on waterfront property.”

(Applause)

Crit: “Okay, Blue Team, back to you. The latest information out of Iraq shows that our troops will need to stay there until 2009.”

Nancy: “Thanks, Rhett. We knew before the President started this war that there would be no easy way out. This report just reaffirms our stand that this war should never have begun.”

(Applause)

Crit: “Red Team? I see you’re huddled down there. Time for your answer.”

Dick: “Well, Crit, this timeline is a positive thing for all the troops currently serving in Iraq. They won’t have to worry about job security for the next two years!”

(Applause)

Crit: “Okay, back to you, Blue Team! The latest intelligence reports show that al-Qaeda is gathering strength on the Afghanistan/Pakistan border.”

Harry: “Thanks, Rhett. Once again we see where the war in Iraq has taken our attention away from the real war on terror. The enemy was and is in Afghanistan, not Iraq, not Iran! Now al-Qaeda is stronger in both countries and we have to fight a two front war.”

(Applause)

Crit: “Red Team? Okay, I need your answer now.”

Dubya, Dick and Karl (chanting in unison): “9/11, 9/11, 9/11, rah, rah, rah! 9/11, 9/11, 9/11, rah, rah, rah!”

(Applause)

Crit: “Wow, guys! Thanks! I don’t know about you, but my head is spinning. That’s all the time we have this week. Next week on What’s Your Spin!, Lou Dobbs will take on the entire Cuban population of Miami. Until then, spin, spin, spin!”

(Television audience applause and cheesy production music up under announcer’s message.)

The Bush Infrastructure

President George W. Bush visited the site of the I-35W bridge disaster in Minneapolis earlier this week. I’m curious what he could’ve been thinking as he surveyed the wreckage. I’ll bet it didn’t occur to him that his own tax policies that have left little money to improve this country’s infrastructure had anything to do with this bridge collapse.

I don’t want to imply that George W. Bush’s administration has been a disaster for the United States. After all, why imply it when I can just come right out and say it. The Bush administration has been a disaster for the United States.

If you have any doubts about this statement, let’s revisit New Orleans where the levees broke during Hurricane Katrina. This infrastructure problem caused the flood and the widespread misery that is still present nearly two years since the storm hit. So much for Bush’s Jackson Square speech with all its good intentions.

These horrors can only be outdone by the disasters waiting to happen. One estimate states that there are 70,000 structurally deficient bridges in the country. Pennsylvania leads the list with 5,000 structures that need to be repaired. God only knows where the next bridge will fail, or when the money will be available to make repairs. These estimates don’t include other infrastructure areas like drinking supply, highways, sewage treatment plants and the country’s electrical system. All these areas are likewise in danger of breaking down on the American people.

The cost for all of this will likely be in the billions, oh hell, let’s go for trillions of dollars. The government would do well to start talking about the common good, and how all Americans can solve this problem together. Of course this talk would be a prelude to proposals for – Republicans, shield your eyes from these next two words – higher taxes!

Don’t worry about higher taxes just yet. It won’t happen in the present administration; Bush is too chicken to raise government revenue to make this country safer for its citizens. This makes me nostalgic for Bill Clinton, who left office with a big, fat government surplus that would’ve taken care of all of our needs if the money had been spent wisely.

The current batch of presidential candidates may want to start using the phrase “common good” more often. This will let people get used to the idea that, if they want to see improvements in our country, then everyone will have to contribute something to the effort. In the meantime Americans should probably practice holding their noses whenever they drink water, invest in lots of candles, and practice their swimming skills before they use another bridge in this country.

Beyond Bitch

Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-NY) created a controversy recently when she asserted her femininity on the floor of the Senate. It seems that she wore a blouse with a plunging neckline that showed the tiniest hint of cleavage from beneath a suit jacket. Fashion editor Robin Givhan noted the cleavage in the Style section of the July 20th edition of The Washington Post. The Clinton campaign reacted with outrage at this latest attempt by the media to reduce their candidate’s work to a sexist photo op.

Okay, everyone. Let’s just take a step back and consider this from all angles. First let’s consider the source.

Robin Givhan is the fashion editor for The Washington Post. She is paid to write about how people look in public. She is not a national affairs writer concerned with the great troubling issues confronting our society. She writes about fashions, cosmetics, and physical attributes — it’s all about appearances. This writer will always be concerned with style over substance. In a perfect world, substance should be valued more, but, oh right, we don’t live in a perfect world.

Ms. Givhan’s article might have been noted by many as trivial, but the Clinton campaign ensured it would become front-page news. Obviously not subscribing to the old adage that any publicity - no matter how adverse — is good publicity, the Clinton campaign took the e-mail route and decried the media’s attitude to her supporters. Naturally, they were able to spin it so that the supporters sent lots of money to the campaign. The Clinton campaign should send the media a thank you note for dropping this moneymaking opportunity into their laps.

Otherwise, the Clinton campaign reaction seems much ado about nothing. After all, it’s not like she did a fan dance or something resembling a Las Vegas lounge act. Although, members of Congress should consider spicing up their speeches for public consumption. Perhaps the Democratic Black Caucus can do selections from Porgy and Bess or Scott Joplin’s Treemonisha. The Republicans could break up the monotony of speech after speech with a performance of Hamlet. Vice-President Cheney could make a rare appearance in the Senate talking about the success of the Bush administration; in other words, a comedy act. Ratings for C-Span would soar and people would definitely take an interest in government again.

We should all agree that substance is more important, even as we must begrudgingly acknowledge the fact that a candidate’s physical appearance plays a big part in how the electorate perceives them. The message the candidate sends is important, but if the candidate doesn’t measure up to the voter’s perception of the ideal candidate, then no one will stick around long enough to hear the message. I realize that this is a great challenge for a female candidate, particularly since the world of politics (and business for that matter) calls for them to act in a traditionally unfeminine manner.

Let’s look at our candidate. Hillary Clinton is ambitious, assertive, aggressive, and any other number of adjectives we can think of to describe her demeanor that many believe is overbearing. Yes, we have all heard people label her a ‘bitch’, most memorably in the classic television interview Connie Chung vs. Mrs. Gingrich (Newt’s mom). Now that was great television!

Also, we should bear in mind that Hillary does not obnoxiously flaunt her femininity like Ann Coulter. Talk about bitch, this woman’s message is poisonous and her methods are lethal to any sane discussion about the issues. No one would pay any attention to Coulter if it weren’t for the fact that the super short skirts she favors make her legs appear to be eight miles long.

Okay, so many people perceive Hillary Clinton to be a bitch. Now is the opportunity for Mrs. Clinton to show the world that she can be a leader, yet still exude that quality that makes her human. She was born a female. Deal with it, conservative right! If she can succeed in doing this, then she can take her image beyond the bitch label and redefine how a female politician is perceived in this country.

Perhaps this is what the Clinton campaign thought they were doing when they raised such a fuss over the Givhan article. Unfortunately, they risked doing what other feminists have done recently: not choosing their fights wisely. Case in point: last year two extremely conservative judges with pro-life views ascended to the Supreme Court. The National Organization of Women (NOW) did not get much media attention in fighting these nominations. They did, however, get media attention when they railed against Penn State football coach, Joe Paterno, for making a sexist joke when he was actually making a self-deprecating comment. Here feminists were seen as fighting the wrong fight at the wrong time and now women’s reproductive rights are being threatened.

Or perhaps the Clinton campaign is correct in blaming the media for any misconceptions people may have about their candidate. Still, we must bear in mind that the media are just the messengers, the carriers of whatever words and actions the candidate communicates to the people. Ultimately, the blame for failure and the credit for success rests on the candidate’s padded shoulders.

This Warning May Kill You

The US government is now looking into beefing up those little warnings on the sides of cigarette packs. Those are the carefully worded messages that tell the consumer that the product they are about to use will give them hours of pleasure and relaxation before it subjects them to a horrible lingering death. In this case, the cigarettes could be a metaphor for life, but I’m not writing this to praise the cigarette. Instead I am here to help bury this accursed product.

Government officials are researching the messages printed on cigarette packs sold in Canada. Apparently these warnings are more graphic than their American counterparts. We can only guess that the warnings are a little stronger than, “Hey, these things will kill you, eh?” I think we can see that this message is not that graphic, but it is definitely Canadian.

Of course, if I ruled the world, the message would go something like this.

WARNING: THE ENCLOSED PRODUCT CAN CAUSE THE CONSUMER ANY NUMBER OF SOCIAL PROBLEMS AND A VARIETY OF HEALTH ISSUES.

FIRST, THERE WILL BE YOUR OSTRACISM FROM SOCIETY. YOU CAN’T LIGHT UP IN RESTAURANTS AND RETAIL ESTABLISHMENTS ANYMORE. IT IS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME WHEN THE ONLY PLACE YOU WILL BE ABLE TO SMOKE IS WITHIN THE PLASTIC, SMOKE-STAINED INTERIOR OF YOUR OWN CAR.

FORGET SOCIETY FOR A MOMENT, BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR OWN FAMILY, THE LOVED ONES FOR WHOM YOU SACRIFICE SO MUCH FOR THEIR HAPPINESS, ONLY TO SLOWLY KILL THEM WITH YOUR FILTHY HABIT. DO YOUR CHILDREN AVOID YOU? DO YOU NOTICE THAT WHEN THEY ARE CLOSE TO YOU THEY SCRUNCH UP THEIR FACE REACTING TO THE STALE SMELL ON YOUR CLOTHES OR YOUR SKIN? ARE YOU BEING DENIED A SIMPLE PECK ON THE CHEEK BECAUSE THEY ARE TOO BUSY COUGHING AWAY THE STENCH THAT IS YOUR BREATH?

THEN THERE ARE YOUR OWN HEALTH PROBLEMS. IT FIRST STARTS AS A WRACKING COUGH, A SIGN OF BRONCHITIS AND POSSIBLY PLEURISY. YOU’RE ONLY STEPS AWAY FROM PNUEMONIA NOW. THEN THERE ARE THE CHRONIC CONDITIONS: EMPHYSEMA AND LUNG CANCER, WHICH COULD GO ON FOR YEARS. THERE WILL BE YEARS OF ENDLESS TRIPS TO THE DOCTOR, INFINITE PRESCRIPTIONS, AND POSSIBLY AN EXTENDED STAY IN AN IRON LUNG.

THOSE LITTLE ADDICTIVE TUBES WILL DEFINITELY CONTRIBUTE TO A DECLINE IN YOUR QUALITY OF LIFE. TOWARDS THE END, YOU’LL SPEND MORE TIME SLEEPING, HACKING, AND THROWING UP BLOOD THAN ANYTHING ELSE...

(Continued on the next pack of cigarettes.)*

In case anyone believes my warning is a bit harsh, please keep this in mind: my father WAS a smoker.

*Apologies to Jerry Lewis.