An Open Letter To Dean Wescott, Owner Of Minsky's

Dear Mr. Wescott,

This is to inform you that I have recently become disinclined to continue doing business with you and henceforth I shant be availing myself of your victuals.

That means I ain't ordering no more pizzas from you.

Which is a goddamn shame because I'm quite partial to your EYEtalian steak sandwiches and I have the bloated physique to prove it.

No, Dean, the problem is with the prehistoric, Amish manner in which you handle your financial transactions.

Let me tell you a little bit about XO, Dean.

Unlike you, I don't own a chain of fucking restaurants. You probably don't have any trouble making ends meet. In fact, I bet your ends are overlapping and looping back around each other like a couple of snakes giving each other oral sex. I'm sure you're doing just fine.

But I, on the other hand, am just a middle class working stiff living paycheck to paycheck. Other than my fat ass, I don't have any cushion. No savings, no credit, no investments, no prospects or provision for a cushy retirement. In fact, if I live long enough to retire, I'm pretty much fucked. Which is why I order your EYEtalian steak sandwiches with extra fries and wash it down with a bottle of bourbon. Think of it as hedge fund approach.

But I digress.

My point is, I sometimes have to manage my finances uncomfortably close to the wire. To this end, I stepped into the 21st century several years ago and quit writing checks. In fact, other than my octogenarian parents, I don't know anybody who writes checks anymore.

I use my debit card for EVERYTHING. This allows me to rely on the balance shown on my statements and receipts from the ATMs because I KNOW that I don't have any latent charges (or "presentments", as they are called in the biz") floating around out there. A debit card transaction is as immediate as it gets.

This has been working for me PERFECTLY, without exception, for several years. Until this week.

My girlfriend was coming to my house on Tuesday and I needed to swing by Price Chopper on the way home to pick up some snacking goodies and libations. I checked my balance at an ATM on Tuesday and had a bit over $80. So I stopped at Price Chopper and dropped a little over $40 on munchy/drinky stuff. No problem, I was getting paid today. Just had another 48 hours till payday.

On Wednesday morning, just to make sure (because that's how carefully I manage things), I checked my balance at the ATM again expecting to verify that I had around $30 left to limp on till payday.

Imagine my SHOCK and PANIC to discover that my account was overdrawn by (-$4.67)! I never, EVER, overdraw my account! Fucking NEVER! I suspected identity theft.

I pull up my last 30 days of transactions and what do I find?

TWO "PRESENTMENTS" FROM MINSKY'S FUCKING PIZZA THAT BOTH CAME THROUGH AT 8:21 TUESDAY NIGHT WHILE I WAS HANGING WITH THE GIRLFRIEND AND NOT EATING MINSKY'S FUCKING PIZZA! One for $19.21 and the other for $16.80. Which was just enough to send my delicately balanced account over the edge!

Now, luckily, that morning I had decided to grab the Tupperware container full of my collection of daily pocket change just in case things got tight. The change yielded a bit over $50 in the change counter. Damn good thing or I literally would not have had enough gas to drive home from work!

I took $5 of that $50 and deposited it in my account to avoid any overdraft charges from my bank.

I called Minsky's in Independence and asked to speak to your manager (Tom). His initial investigation came back with the conclusion that no calls were received from me the previous night and that no transactions went through on my card the previous night.

:: blink ::

"Umm, Tom, I know that. Because I didn't order any pizzas last night. That's kind of EXACTLY THE FUCKING PROBLEM, TOM! FIX IT!!!"

I sent him back for a Mulligan and he concluded..., OK, wait for it... the charges were for orders that I had placed "sometime" between the beginning of JUNE and MID JULY. Their card swiper had been busted so the charges never went through until they got their card swiper fixed which apparently happened on Tuesday while me and the girlfriend were bumpin' uglies!

Tom can't understand why that should have overdrawn my account since the original transactions never went through the money should have still been in my account.

I don't have the time or patience to explain to Tom the difference between the way the Ancient Sumerians balanced their books and the way 21st Century technophiles do things.

When a consumer swipes a debit card in a transaction they have a reasonable expectation that an IMMEDIATE transfer of dollars (or 'credits' as I like to call them) has taken place between the consumer and the merchant and the transaction is COMPLETE. No follow up or audit is required. That's exactly why I stopped writing checks! So that there would never, ever be any unaccounted for, pending charges floating around.

I escalated on Tom and told him I needed to talk to the owner. That would be you, the aforementioned Dean Wescott.

Over the course of a couple rounds of telephone tag and voice mails, your investigation concluded that the charges were for orders placed on July 8 and July 15 when you were having problems with your credit card machine, my credit card wasn't charged then, the credit card machine has been fixed and you are "just swiping the money now", transactions are good for 30 days, and "that's the way it is".

Well, fuck you Dean.

It's not my fault your fucking cheap ass card swiper was busted.

It's not my fault you sent your delivery people out with faulty fucking equipment.

No one ever told me "Hey, this charge didn't go through tonight, so you might want to jot down the amount and keep track of this as a pending charge".

No one called me or emailed me to let me know "Hey, XO, I know you're a regular customer and we've had some problems with our equipment lately. Just wanted to let you know we'll be sending about $30 worth of charges on your card tonight that we weren't able to send through before. Sorry for the inconvenience, We'll toss in some free bread sticks next time you call. Love you, love your show!"

No. Instead what I got was we're "swiping the money now" and "that's the way it is".

You know what the balance was in my checking account yesterday Dean? .33 fucking cents. What was the balance in your checking account yesterday Dean? Somewhere north of that?

Did it ever occur to you that your archaic, check processing era policy of holding onto charges for weeks before sending them through might pose a hardship for people who actually live in this century?

Did it ever occur to you that tossing out a $30 comp to a loyal customer might be a really cheap and easy way to fix a very real problem that YOU HAD CAUSED with your faulty equipment and antiquated transaction policies?

Have you ever heard the statistic that an unhappy customer will tell 8-10 people?

That was old school, Dean. This unhappy customer just told the entire fucking Internet, blogosphere, Facebook and twitter verse! SKIDOOSH!

OK, when you add up all the people who follow me in all those arenas you're probably talking less than 8-10 people. But still, I'm just sayin'. I'm an unhappy customer.

So this is it for us Dean. The end of the line.

I'm sure that in time, you'll find another fat lethargic bastard to order your tasty fucking EYEtalian steak sandwiches with extra fries.

But I'm done. I hope overdrawing my account by (-$4.67) helped you make your boat payment on time. I'd hate to inconvenience you in any way.

Go fuck yourself Dean.


Yours In Christ,

Xavier Onassis

Journalism vs. Blogging

A lot of bloggers like to think they are journalists just because they blog about things that journalists cover.

Politics is the most common area where this perceived blurring of the lines occurs.

Local bloggers think that because they cover City Hall, and accredited journalists cover City Hall, there is no difference between journalists and bloggers.

To a certain extent, they are right.

You need a license to drive a car. You need a license to practice medicine. You need a license to be a lawyer. You need a license to dispense pharmaceuticals.

You don't need a license to practice journalism. All you need is a media outlet.

In the past, corporations controlled the media outlets. Newspapers, radio, TV. One of these mainstream media outlets needed to agree that you were a "Journalist" and give you access to their news gathering and fact checking resources. You could then report the news you had gathered to your employer's audience.

Not so anymore. These days, any fucktard with an Internet connection and the minimum savvy necessary to create a blog or a twitter account can declare themselves a journalist and start posting shit that can be consumed immediately by the entire planet!

But there is an impenetrable wall that separates bloggers from journalists. The bricks of that wall are facts and the mortar holding the bricks together is fact checking.

Last week we saw a classic example of the difference between blogging and journalism.

Conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart posted a video of Shirley Sherrod (a HUGE PUBLIC TARGET, being Georgia State Director of Rural Development for the United States Department of Agriculture) addressing the NAACP.

The video appeared to show her exhibiting a racist attitude towards a white farmer who came to her seeking help. In a knee-jerk reaction by the racially sensitive Obama Administration, Shirley Sherrod was immediately fired.

But guess what? The 2 minute video had been intentionally and maliciously edited down from a 44 minute video to make it appear that she was saying exactly the opposite of what she was actually saying!

She was actually making the point that she had been able to recognize her prejudice, overcome it, and go on to help the white farmer keep his land. A point backed up by the white farmer in question!

Andrew Brietbart is clearly not a journalist. He is a conservative blogger with an agenda to forward so the actual facts weren't important. All that was important was the firestorm, the press, the knee-jerk political responses and the publicity.

That's fucked up and irresponsible. A real person lost her job because some Internet asshole used selective statements from her to further his own political agenda.

Despite this depressing example of lazy, self-promoting, egotistical, irresponsible idiots corrupting the concept of journalistic integrity, there are still examples to be found of True Journalism.

The Washington Post published Top Secret America, the culmination of an investigative journalism piece by Dana Priest and William Arkin.

"The government has built a national security and intelligence system so big, so complex and so hard to manage, no one really knows if it's fulfilling its most important purpose: keeping its citizens safe."

Trained, accredited, experienced journalists (one of them a Pulitzer Prize winner) spent TWO YEARS developing sources, vetting those sources, finding corroborating sources, checking facts with experts in the field, filtering their data through experienced editors and making GOD DAMNED SURE they had their facts straight before they went to print.

That, my friends, is Journalism.

Cutting and pasting selective content from real journalists, adding snarky comments to boost your hit count or push your agenda is blogging.

Know the difference.

Super Hero Movie Images!

Geekgasm time!

Lots of new images bubbling up online from Marvel and DC Super Hero movies in the works!

I wanna be excited about Ryan Reynolds as the Green Lantern, but I have my doubts.

This is what the (Hal Jordan) Green Lantern is supposed to look like.



This? Not so much.



He looks like Ben Stiller sporting a Jewfro doing a Green Lantern parody. Fix. That. Shit!

But on the Marvel side, I'm digging on the pics coming out of the "Thor" production by Kenneth Branagh.

Here is Odin (Anthony Hopkins), Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Loki (Tom Hiddleston).





I'm also loving the updated Captain America costume for "Captain America: The First Avenger" with Chris Evans as Steve Rogers.




But I am more than a little dubious about this low budget, indie produced, "super hero" flick with the working title "The_D_Rules Is Awesome!" This is the only concept art I've seen and it disturbs me deeply.

Who's Buried Next To Charlie Parker?

So Nina and I were out and about on Saturday and on a whim, I took her to see Charlie Parker's grave. She'd never been and every Kansas Citian should make the pilgramage at least once.

We were surprised to see a very fresh grave without a tombstone next to his.

His mother is buried just to his right.

Who is in the grave to his left? Does anyone know?

The Green Lantern

YES!


no



What The Fuck is all that silvery, capillary, spider web shit in his suit?

Where are the iconic black and white elements in the classic picture above?

Why is his hair all pompadoured up?

When did Ryan Reynolds start looking like Ben Stiller? Sad.

FIX IT!

My Favorite Greek

A few weeks ago my daughter, young Galadriel Tanqueray Onassis, wanted me to take her to see "Get Him To The Greek" so of course I did.

Yeah, yeah I know. It's a totally inappropriate father/daughter "quality time" movie. Yes, there were some awkward moments. But after taking her to see "Watchmen" with its multiple Dr. Manhattans, this was like a Doris Day and Rock Hudson movie.

It was a very funny movie, but it reminded me an awful lot of another movie.

In "Get Him To The Greek", Aaron Green (Jonah Hill) is an ambitious young guy trying to make his name in the music industry. Aldous Snow (Russell Brand)is a once great rock idol who is now a washed up, drugged-out, womanizing, has-been who is now TERRIFIED at the prospect of performing in public after a disastrous last album.

Aaron's task is to go fetch Aldous, escort him back to New York for a comeback concert and make sure he gets to the theater (The Greek) on time, sober, and ready to perform.

Chaos and hilarity ensue. Aaron manages to get Aldous to the Greek, and along the way, they both learn important lessons about life, love and humanity.

But in 1982 there was another movie called "My Favorite Year".



In 1950's New York, in the age of live television, the nebish Benjy Stone (Mark Linn-Baker) is an ambitious young writer for King Kaiser (think Sid Caesar), the star of a major weekly comedy-variety show.

Next weeks guest star is Alan Swann (Peter O'Toole), a once great, swash-buckling movie idol (think Errol Flynn) who is now a washed up, alcoholic, womanizing has been who is absolutely TERRIFIED at the prospect of appearing on live television.

As Alan says, "I'm not an actor, I'm a movie star!"

Benjy's task is to go fetch Alan, escort him back to New York for the live TV show and make sure he gets to the studio on time, sober, and ready to perform.

Chaos and hilarity ensue. Benjy manages to get Alan to the studio, and along the way, they both learn important lessons about life, love and humanity.

This is my favorite clip from the movie:



I highly recommend both movies.

[BTW. "Peter O'Toole" is the greatest porn star name EVER! He missed his calling.]

Darth Cheney! For Reelz!

So this week we found out that last week, Dick Cheney had yet another cardiac intervention to keep him alive. It was all very hush hush.

Instead of the pacemaker that had been keeping his heart beating in a regular rhythm, he now has a Left Ventricular Assist Device (LVAD).



I'll cut through the medical mumbo jumbo and give you the Cliff Notes bottomline.
Dick Cheney is now a battery powered cyborg who no longer has a pulse because his heart no longer beats! The LVAD is an impeller pump that keeps his blood circulating in a constant flow. A cable (USB?) runs from the LVAD attached to his heart, through an incision in his stomach to an external controller worn like a belly pack, connected to a shoulder holster battery. He will need to carry extra batteries because they are only good for a few hours.

I wonder if the LVAD comes with a car charger? He spends a lot of time travelling between speaking engagements. Maybe he could plug into the cigarette lighter for a charge on the go.

But the creepiest, Vaderist little detail is that at night, Dick Cheney actually needs to be plugged in to a wall socket to stay alive! He might want to invest in a UPS and some diesel generators. Otherwise, he's just a thunderstorm or ice storm away from sudden death! Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Actually, I don't know why they don't just cut to the chase. Power the LVAD with a Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generator RTG like NASA uses on it's deep space probes. They could mount it in a large, external, carapace-like breastplate with lots of flashing LEDs and toggle switches and shit.



Seriously. Never has this much technology been used to keep this much evil alive. This fucker will fester like a pus filled boil on the ass of humanity forever, thanks to modern science.

I'd become Amish in a futile, symbolic protest to this abomination but internet porn is the life blood that sustains me and makes life worth living. It is, My Precious.

So now, if you'll excuse me....

ARIZONA SENATE BILL 1070

STATE OF ARIZONA SENATE BILL 1070

20 B. FOR ANY LAWFUL CONTACT MADE BY A LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIAL OR AGENCY
21 OF THIS STATE OR A COUNTY, CITY, TOWN OR OTHER POLITICAL SUBDIVISION OF THIS
22 STATE WHERE REASONABLE SUSPICION EXISTS THAT THE PERSON IS AN ALIEN WHO IS
23 UNLAWFULLY PRESENT IN THE UNITED STATES, A REASONABLE ATTEMPT SHALL BE MADE,
24 WHEN PRACTICABLE, TO DETERMINE THE IMMIGRATION STATUS OF THE PERSON. THE
25 PERSON'S IMMIGRATION STATUS SHALL BE VERIFIED WITH THE FEDERAL GOVERNMENT
26 PURSUANT TO 8 UNITED STATES CODE SECTION 1373(c).

So, only if an officer saw a vehicle with, say, a tail light out could they pull them over. Because that would constitute "lawful contact".

And then, and ONLY then, if they had "reasonable suspicion...that the person is an alien who is unlawfully present in the United States..." could they make inquiries about their citizenship paperwork.

OK.

So you're an Arizona cop. There are 2 vehicles in front of you. They both have a burned out tail light.

One is a hunter green 2010 Volvo being drive by an elderly white woman with a "Svenska Flicka" bumper sticker.

The other vehicle is a rusted out 1976 Ford Econoline van packed to capacity with men who appear to be Hispanic surrounded by roofing materials or lawn care equipment.

Which vehicle, with identical violations, will the officer pull over and question?

If he pulls over the Volvo with the Swedish bumper sticker, will he feel compelled to ask the elderly, white driver for her Swedish passport, green card or visa?

Suppose the driver with the broken tail light is any other white person. Would the police officer ask if they are here illegally from France, England, Canada, Italy, Russia, Poland, Germany, Greece or Spain?

What, exactly, constitutes "reasonable suspicion...that the person is an alien who is unlawfully present in the United States..."?

This law is CLEARLY aimed it Hispanic and Latino immigrants and is therefore discriminatory, biased and unconstitutional.

The States don't have the authority or the legal standing to establish their own immigration policy or take it upon themselves to arbitrarily enforce federal laws according to their own interpretation.

This whole "illegal immigration" issue is a pathetic attempt to pander to the lowest common denominator of Right Wing paranoia in a vain attempt to halt the philosophical diaspora that is fragmenting their fundamental conservative core and sending their intellectually feeble drones scurrying for a rallying point.

They lack knowledge of, or deny the role of, the impact of immigrants (documented or undocumented) on our economy.



The Right Wing is confused, panicked, scared and looking for an easy enemy.

Joseph McCarthy blamed the Communists.

Lou Dobbs blames the Mexicans.

Same thing.

Incoming!

So Nina (the best and last great love of my life) and I had big plans today to kick off the holiday.

First up was a little live music with Mama Ray's Open Blues Jam at BB's Lawnside BBQ. Or, as my BFF likes to call it "old people fun".

Next was attending Vince and Linda's wedding in Excelsior Springs followed by some clubbing in KC.

The first part went very well! She had never been before and enjoyed it very much. We listened to a couple of sets, had some beer battered shrimp and a couple of drinks.

Then we headed back to my place to freshen up and get ready for the wedding.

We were south bound on Troost in her PT Cruiser at about 93rd St. when the wing just behind the passenger side rear window EXPLODED showering the interior of the car with shards of glass.

It took us both a second to fathom what had happened but it seemed pretty clear to both of us that we had been shot at.

Nina was screaming for me to pull over, but I kept driving until we were clear of the kill zone. Then we pulled over and called 911.

The KCPD arrived and a discussion ensued as to the cause of the incident. The po po favored the random kicked up road debris theory whereas we were quite adamant that a person or persons unknown fucking shot at us.

Cop: "Why do you think someone would be shooting at you?"

Me: "Umm, because we're at 93rd and Troost, it's the 4th of July weekend and people with guns like to get liquored up and do stupid shit?"

Cop: "Are you 100% certain it was a gunshot and couldn't have been anything else?"

Me: "I'm 100% certain that in 54 years I've never had an automobile window spontaneously EXPLODE showering the inside with glass shards. I'm pretty fucking sure about THAT!"

They finally gave us the police report she'll need for her insurance claim and we were done.

But she was too shook up over the incident to continue with our plans, so we just came back home to decompress.

So, sorry we couldn'take it Vince and Linda!