REPRESENTATIVE, UNCRITICAL LETTER OF THE WEEK
the people write. we
sigh.
Though it's been almost a month since our
last installment of the always popular (Idiot) Letter of the Week --
the Wechts have been eerily quiet lately, perhaps because they've been trying to
keep this
story from surfacing -- that does not mean, of course, that there have
been no piddling, middling missives worthy of a good, ol'-fashioned, TWM-style
deconstruction. But I've been busy doing and writing and thinking other things.
And I've also, at least on this subject, been waiting for just the right (wrong)
letter to come along, one that, though it does not cover all the bases of
pro-Boy absurdity, does, at least, get lost in left field long enough for us to
have a little fun with it.
Enter, from the North Side of Pittsburgh and the south side of sanity, Ms. Connie Dusak:
Everywhere you turn these days -- radio, television and print -- Mayor Ravenstahl's life had been documented play by play.
Believe it or not, Connie, what the mayor of a major metropolitan area does is newsworthy. And all the more so when he's blowing off meetings, golfing with celebrities, skipping important hearings, violating city ethics standards, and piling his homies into a federally funded anti-terror SUV.
Every day something new is reported, from what car he drives to a beer he drank at a Steelers game.
First: unless you count Chris Schultz's great Democrats for DeSantis blog as an example of the mainstream media, no one's documenting a beer he drank at a Steelers game. Perhaps you're thinking of the several beers he drank before he argued with a police officer, was handcuffed, detained, and eventually released at Heinz Field on a Monday night in 2005.
Now: the point, no matter how often uncritical simpletons like you try to pretend otherwise, is not what car Mr. Ravenstahl drives, nor even that his city-issued Impala seems to break down or need maintenance every time he and his peeps needs a more beasty car in which to roll. The point -- and I'll take this slowly, so you're more likely to understand it -- is that the SUV in which Master Ravenstahl rode and partied is paid for by federal funds. A grant from the Department of Homeland Security, to be exact. And those funds in that grant come with very clear restrictions -- among them the prohibition on all driving and riding and tailgating that does not fight or respond to or at least gather intelligence on terrorism in Pittsburgh. Violating those restrictions violates the terms of the grant, and so jeopardizes both the current grant and future grants for which the city may be eligible. Violating those restrictions has drawn the attention -- and, indeed, the investigation -- of U.S. Attorney Mary Beth Buchanan. It's not clear when The Boy Who Would Be Mayor first knew that what he was doing was wrong, but it is pretty damned clear that his Chief of Staff and his Chief of Police knew long before he stopped using it.
So, you see, Connie, it's a bit more complex than you and your sand-buried head would like to believe. And all the more so because the Frat Boy on Grant wants to solve just about every one of our problems by going to Harrisburg and/or Washington, dunce cap in hand, to ask for lots and lots of money. If the people in Harrisburg and/or Washington suspect that money will go toward another bag of briquets, some kielbasa, and maybe a beer-pong table, they are considerably less likely to give it to us.
You know what, Pittsburgh?
What, Connie?
Get off his back and let him do his job,...
If he actually did his job -- hell, if he ever conducted himself with even a dollop of dignity, with so much as a modicum of maturity -- we would.
...as well as live his life.
As long as living his life doesn't compromise the city, the integrity of his office, or the many important duties of it, we will. But so far, The Boy Who Won't Go First is batting a dismal 0-for-3.
I don't ever recall a play-by-play report on Tom Murphy's life or any other past mayors.
Perhaps because they did their jobs? Or because they worked hard (if not always well)? Or because they didn't do so many careless, selfish, stupid things?
Is that because their lives were boring? Or is it because they weren't 27 years old?
It's because they didn't behave like immature, self-absorbed little punks who thought they were above scrutiny and beyond reproach.
Hasn't Pittsburgh seen enough examples from Hollywood as to how the media can ruin lives?
Oh, yes. It's the media's fault. Of course.
Because if they didn't report that Lindsay Lohan was taking drugs and driving drunk, she wouldn't be. And if they didn't report that The Boy Who Would Be Mayor was violating city ethics standards and federal funding grants, we could all pretend that he wasn't. And what a happy world we'd live in then. Our debt would magically dissolve, our streets would turn to gold, and our rivers would run with low-calorie, high-quality beer.
To avoid their wrath, the media have already succeeded in having Mr. Ravenstahl "lying low" until this upcoming election.
Misplaced modifiers aside... If Master Ravenstahl has been lying low these past few weeks, just imagine how much dumb shit he'd be doing if he were standing tall. (Which, the lifts in his shoes notwithstanding, is obviously a relative term here.)
Will the day soon come that the media will start following his wife around like they do Britney Spears?
Only if she appears drunk at the MTV Music Video Awards. And parties with Lindsay Lohan and drives around town without wearing panties. And marries a do-nothing doofus with few discernible abilities and an absurdly oversized ego.
(Wait. Scratch that last one...)
Just like a fair-weather fan, Pittsburghers will jump off and on Luke's bandwagon, depending on what the media shout from the rooftops.
Agreement errors aside... Pittsburghers are elbowing each other in the face and the groin and every other body part to get the hell off Luke's bandwagon because they realize it's missing a couple of wheels, has no one at the reins, and is about to head straight over a cliff. That has nothing to do with the media and their rooftops, and everything to do with the mayor and his screw-ups.
My advice to you, Pittsburgh: Do some thinking on your own.
My advice to you, Connie: take your own advice. If you're capable of it.
Show up on Election Day and vote for the 27-year-old mayor who has proved himself to be a true man among men.
What the hell does that mean? Class? Anyone? Bueller?
Has she had sex with Luke? Is she talking about his dick size? If so, should they really be printing that in a family newspaper?
I'm confused. And at this point, I'm pretty sure I prefer to be.
Enter, from the North Side of Pittsburgh and the south side of sanity, Ms. Connie Dusak:
Everywhere you turn these days -- radio, television and print -- Mayor Ravenstahl's life had been documented play by play.
Believe it or not, Connie, what the mayor of a major metropolitan area does is newsworthy. And all the more so when he's blowing off meetings, golfing with celebrities, skipping important hearings, violating city ethics standards, and piling his homies into a federally funded anti-terror SUV.
Every day something new is reported, from what car he drives to a beer he drank at a Steelers game.
First: unless you count Chris Schultz's great Democrats for DeSantis blog as an example of the mainstream media, no one's documenting a beer he drank at a Steelers game. Perhaps you're thinking of the several beers he drank before he argued with a police officer, was handcuffed, detained, and eventually released at Heinz Field on a Monday night in 2005.
Now: the point, no matter how often uncritical simpletons like you try to pretend otherwise, is not what car Mr. Ravenstahl drives, nor even that his city-issued Impala seems to break down or need maintenance every time he and his peeps needs a more beasty car in which to roll. The point -- and I'll take this slowly, so you're more likely to understand it -- is that the SUV in which Master Ravenstahl rode and partied is paid for by federal funds. A grant from the Department of Homeland Security, to be exact. And those funds in that grant come with very clear restrictions -- among them the prohibition on all driving and riding and tailgating that does not fight or respond to or at least gather intelligence on terrorism in Pittsburgh. Violating those restrictions violates the terms of the grant, and so jeopardizes both the current grant and future grants for which the city may be eligible. Violating those restrictions has drawn the attention -- and, indeed, the investigation -- of U.S. Attorney Mary Beth Buchanan. It's not clear when The Boy Who Would Be Mayor first knew that what he was doing was wrong, but it is pretty damned clear that his Chief of Staff and his Chief of Police knew long before he stopped using it.
So, you see, Connie, it's a bit more complex than you and your sand-buried head would like to believe. And all the more so because the Frat Boy on Grant wants to solve just about every one of our problems by going to Harrisburg and/or Washington, dunce cap in hand, to ask for lots and lots of money. If the people in Harrisburg and/or Washington suspect that money will go toward another bag of briquets, some kielbasa, and maybe a beer-pong table, they are considerably less likely to give it to us.
You know what, Pittsburgh?
What, Connie?
Get off his back and let him do his job,...
If he actually did his job -- hell, if he ever conducted himself with even a dollop of dignity, with so much as a modicum of maturity -- we would.
...as well as live his life.
As long as living his life doesn't compromise the city, the integrity of his office, or the many important duties of it, we will. But so far, The Boy Who Won't Go First is batting a dismal 0-for-3.
I don't ever recall a play-by-play report on Tom Murphy's life or any other past mayors.
Perhaps because they did their jobs? Or because they worked hard (if not always well)? Or because they didn't do so many careless, selfish, stupid things?
Is that because their lives were boring? Or is it because they weren't 27 years old?
It's because they didn't behave like immature, self-absorbed little punks who thought they were above scrutiny and beyond reproach.
Hasn't Pittsburgh seen enough examples from Hollywood as to how the media can ruin lives?
Oh, yes. It's the media's fault. Of course.
Because if they didn't report that Lindsay Lohan was taking drugs and driving drunk, she wouldn't be. And if they didn't report that The Boy Who Would Be Mayor was violating city ethics standards and federal funding grants, we could all pretend that he wasn't. And what a happy world we'd live in then. Our debt would magically dissolve, our streets would turn to gold, and our rivers would run with low-calorie, high-quality beer.
To avoid their wrath, the media have already succeeded in having Mr. Ravenstahl "lying low" until this upcoming election.
Misplaced modifiers aside... If Master Ravenstahl has been lying low these past few weeks, just imagine how much dumb shit he'd be doing if he were standing tall. (Which, the lifts in his shoes notwithstanding, is obviously a relative term here.)
Will the day soon come that the media will start following his wife around like they do Britney Spears?
Only if she appears drunk at the MTV Music Video Awards. And parties with Lindsay Lohan and drives around town without wearing panties. And marries a do-nothing doofus with few discernible abilities and an absurdly oversized ego.
(Wait. Scratch that last one...)
Just like a fair-weather fan, Pittsburghers will jump off and on Luke's bandwagon, depending on what the media shout from the rooftops.
Agreement errors aside... Pittsburghers are elbowing each other in the face and the groin and every other body part to get the hell off Luke's bandwagon because they realize it's missing a couple of wheels, has no one at the reins, and is about to head straight over a cliff. That has nothing to do with the media and their rooftops, and everything to do with the mayor and his screw-ups.
My advice to you, Pittsburgh: Do some thinking on your own.
My advice to you, Connie: take your own advice. If you're capable of it.
Show up on Election Day and vote for the 27-year-old mayor who has proved himself to be a true man among men.
What the hell does that mean? Class? Anyone? Bueller?
Has she had sex with Luke? Is she talking about his dick size? If so, should they really be printing that in a family newspaper?
I'm confused. And at this point, I'm pretty sure I prefer to be.
Posted: Tue - October 16, 2007 at 08:47 AM
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Published On: Oct 30, 2008 01:04 PM
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Published On: Oct 30, 2008 01:04 PM