Monthly Archives: September 2010

Mi Nombre es Mully & Amo…………………



Best Experienced With:     Sparklehorse/Radiohead;      Wish You Were Here

 (Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music for this evening’s get together in a new browser window.   That’s a tasty little tune)

This sunrise over Mission Bay this morning at 6:42 a.m.



Arguments leading to hugging it out

Hostess Ho-Ho’s

Watership Down

Non sequitors

Insurrections of the disenfranchised

Necco wafers and Lemonheads

Baby animals learning to walk

Down pillows

Blank legal tablets

Book stores

Hardware stores

Foot stools

Bar stools

Kotler’s Marketing Management (any edition)

Travel to third world countries

Olin & The Moon CD’s

Putting on UGG boots after a late January surf session

The New Republic

Foster’s oil cans

True love

Carpet Fresh

Sharpened #2 pencils

All day COPS marathons

Little green army men carefully guarding spicy tuna rolls at sushi dinners

“Ah ha” moments through other people’s eyes

A# chord

Uncontrollable laughter

First dates

Horatio Alger success stories



Skilled tale tellers and their tales

The documentary Buy The Ticket, Take the Ride

The philosophy “buy the ticket, take the ride”

Amazing Pink Floyd covers

This SW swell and the sunset from my porch this evening at 6:42 p.m.



Filed under Uncategorized

Visigoths, Villains & The Pensacolan Svengali



Best Experienced With:          Stone Temple Pilots;         Tripping on a Hole in a Paper Heart

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s treatise in a new browser window)


As more and more incompetent and ridiculous candidates won their primaries from the Right Coast to the Left Coast over the past eight weeks, I have felt like the kid at the community pool whose mother made him wait three or four hours after lunch to join the rest of morons playing in the pool with their Donald Duck water wings and super soakers.             (Eat your heart out, Faulkner.)

Christine O’Donnell and Delaware was the last straw.   Watching Ms. O’Donnell enter the bloody fray is analogous to my mom holding me back while another mom tosses her blind and deaf daughter into the deep section of the pool tethered to a rope chain and eighteen cinder blocks.   “After lunch waiting rule” be damned.  It is  time to jump into all ends of the pool simultaneously with both feet.   

Game on.

White trash comes in all shapes, sizes, and forms and, much like little Max wanted to be the King of the Wild Things, this is my formal announcement that I am informally announcing my candidacy for the Emperorship of the white trash state of Florida.  Rick Scott may have the billions he stole from each and every one of us while he was raping and pillaging the Medicare system as founder and CEO of Columbia HCA< but I have something else.   Something that money cannot buy and something that will surely allow me to beat Rick Scott like a rented mule in the race for the Emperorship of Florida.

I am Irish.   We Irish are not only God’s chosen people; we have a bat-phone to God.   Should I fall behind in the polls, I will simply pick up the bat-phone, call upstairs and BOOM…God makes Mr. Scott a leper.   Regardless of how well funded a campaign is, very few people will vote for a leper.   Few constituents enjoy a noseless Emporer.

My commitment to Florida is as follows.  I will purchase at least two, possibly three, double wides and be the first Emperor of Florida to have permanent residence in Pensacola.   Three of my Pensacola evening meals each week will be pancakes and Spam and I will wear jean shorts with white tube socks/black shoes.  Once the Florida Emperorship is mine, I will embody all that is Florida.  With much further adieu, very little introspection, and as much ennui as I can muster I would like to announce my write in candidacy for Emperor of Florida.  I shall smash Rick Scott much like otters smash mollusks on the rocks off the coast of San Francisco.

Game on, indeed.

Penultimate Goal

The primary goal is not truly to be the Emperor of the finest white trash state in this great, white country.   Nope.  My real goal is relatively transparent.    The true goal is to lose the election convincingly, yet get lucrative speaking engagements, a la Sarah Palin.   

Campaign Staff

Have carefully chosen and signed up the following folks to run and manage my campaign:

King:                                       Mully

Associate King:                  JF

Partner in Crime:             Stevie J. Clark

Speech Writer:                   JF

Treasurer:                            Michael Milliken

Voter Registration:       Richard M. Dailey

Spiritual Advisor:           Malik Zulu Shabazz

Rules Advisor:                 Pete Carroll

Court Jester:                      James Carville

Advice Advisor:               Rasputin

VP of Marketing:             Patches the Dog

A few months back, I wrote a song about my Associate King’s doggy, Patches for the 2014 Mind of Mully album I’ll Be Your Emperor Penguin.   “Patches the Nuclear Physicist Brain Surgeon Puppy”  is the finest song written about a nuclear physicist brain surgeon puppy.   Patches has grown into a non-puppy.  Patches is now a marketing genius doggy.  Fortunately for our campaign, Patches agreed to run the marketing campaign for obvious reasons (see below):


The Campaign Strategy

My campaign platform and strategy for Emperorship of Florida will be one of positivity.   I will focus on the thing I know best in the universe and the thing I find most entertaining.    Me.

Why would I spend one minute of our valuable time together talking about Rick Scott?   All I know about Rick Scott is what I read about in the newspapers ten years ago when he resigned his CEO position a few weeks before his company Columbia HCA was convicted of the most egregious Medicare fraud in the history of the United States.   Does this make Mr. Scott a nasty billionaire crook who is not ethically fit to run the most humid state in these great United States?  Only you can decide that.

Heck, I don’t even know what Rick Scott’s favorite beer is.  How can I opine on how much Mr. Scott may cheat as a governor in Florida when I do not even know his favorite beer?    My favorite beer is Pilsner beer:  this I know for certain.   Since we are on the topic, let’s talk a little more about me.

I have never been the President  & CEO of Columbia Healthcare.    I was not a co-founder (with Richard Hightower) of Columbia HCA.   While not co-founder or CEO of Columbia HCA I was not accused of defrauding the US government and the US citizens of $1,700,000,000.     I did not become a billionaire by cheating the US taxpayers.

I have six cats.  My full back tattoo and the thirty hours of needle pricks that went into my full back piece is proof positive that I am not a sissy and can manage and lead through pain and bloodshed.   This will come in handy should we ever have a border war with Georgia after we dump too many motorcycle head injury and mad cow disease patients just over their border.   My mother’s name is Kathleen.    With a “K”.   I spent forty-eight minutes formulating my belief and policy statement:  thirty-three more minutes than most 2010 candidates spend, on average.

I read three to four newspapers per day, which means I read more newspapers in a single day than most of the other campaign participants coast to coast in all the November elections read in a single year.   This is also four billion times more newspapers than any Fox News person has ever read or ever even thought of reading.   I have never been on Twitter and will never Tweet because the magical and mystical crap flying through this mind (in concert with dozens of winged unicorns) cannot possibly be captured in 140 characters.    I eat rye toast with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.    Spray bottles of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.   I do not suffer fools.  In fact, should reporters ask stupid questions during my forty-two day Emperor of Florida campaign, I will answer the stupid question with the following statement.   “That’s just a stupid question and I choose not to answer stupid questions.”   Then I will follow the statement with a question;

“Does anyone have a not stupid question I can answer that does not have to do with Mr. Scott clearly being a white collar criminal who is trying to buy your votes like he and Mr. Hightower bought up hospitals in the 1990’s….raping and pillaging these hospitals and closing Emergency Departments that the poor and uninsured depended on to not die?   Does anyof you have one of those questions?   Yes, you in the pink pillbox hat and cowboy boots right there in front.”

Those are the types of things my fiefdom needs to know and more information will be forthcoming over the next forty-one days.    I will continue to take the high ground and only discuss me, even if Anderson Cooper invites me to an interview.   If Mr. Cooper asks: “Mully, how does it feel to be running against a man who cheated the United States as egregiously as Enron and WorldCom did?” I will continue to stay on point and discuss me.  After handing Mr. Cooper a normal sized black tee shirt to replace the Baby Gap black tee shirt he will most certainly be wearing, I will reply:   “Let’s talk about Mully, AC because that topic is infinitely more entertaining than discussing how a common criminal was able to win the Republican primary for Emperor of Florida.”


Much adieu lately about returning this great nation of ours to its original language.   I could not agree more and, when Emporer, will make certain all Florididians speak the native language.   As of January 1, all persons of all colors and all nationalities in Florida will have to speak in the local native Indian tongue as specified in the chart below.   Rosetta Stone has committed to release a special edition of Timucua, Choctaw, Apalachee, Creek and Calusa.  The rest of you are on your own.


Job Creation

One of the cornerstones of my campaign is creating jobs in Florida, mostly for the old people because old people in Florida must be bored senseless.   Bored and sweaty.     There’s not much for the elderly population to do in Florida and 17% of the population is over 65 in Florida.  Bored people have far too much time on their hands and bored people get testy easily.  Bored, old people will be testy and could hinder my re-election bid four years from now when I will be living high on the hog from sucking the public teet for a while.   No one needs a seventy-three year old complaining about crap four years from now.   Especially me.

Most of these elderly folks have a computer and a telephone.   Most cranky elderly folks in Nigeria and Ghana do not have a computer and a telephone and yet Nigeria beats Florida like a red headed step child when it comes to raising hundereds of millions of dollars through internet fraud.    When I am in charge of Florida, my bored, elderly population will perpetrate more internet fraud than the entire continent of Africa.    Mentally, I just added six trillion in incremental gross revenue from this job creation plan and we have not even started the job creation offense.

18,000,0000 of my loyal subjects in Florida with 17% over 65 is 3,000,000 people sending out at least 59 emails per day.  Would imagine the first paragraph in the internet fraud email my elderly posse will perpetrate hourly will look something like this:

“Having consulted with my colleagues and based on the information gathered from the Pensacola Chambers Of Commerce and Industry, I have the privilege to request your assistance to transfer the sum of $47,500,000.00 (forty seven million, five hundred thousand United States dollars) into your accounts. The above sum resulted from an over-invoiced contract, executed, commissioned and paid for about five years (5) ago by a foreign contractor. This action was however intentional and since then the fund has been in a suspense account at The Central Bank Of Pensacola Apex Bank.”

In no time at all, my new and improved Floridanian economy will surpass the UAE and Saudi Arabia’s DGP.   Combined.   This will allow us to create more jobs, mostly in the penal system.


Theme Songs


Life and all portions of life should be well themed.    Nothing themes things more thoroughly than music.  That was a solid example of euphonic alliteration.   Euphonic alliteration is another cornerstone of this campaign.

Many of us vomited a small amount in our collective mouths while watching one of our Presidents and his wife doing the white person dance to Fleetwood Mac singing “don’t stop thinking about tomorrow…..yadda, yadda.”  Ever since that evening, I have given considerable thought to the various election and election win songs that would accompany my campaign and convincing win.   As you may expect, there are many.   The top performers, in no particular order, are:

Linkin Park:                                                  “Bleed It Out”

Soul Asylum:                                               “Somebody to Shove”

Street Sweeper Social Club:             “Paper Planes”  (MIA cover)

Rancid:                                                            “Ruby Soho”

The song you cued up when you began reading, Stone Temple Pilots’ Tripping on a Hole in a Paper Heart is what you will hear as I approach the microphone at each campaign event over the next six weeks so you may as well learn the song from start to finish so you don’t look silly mouthing fake words during the fast parts in the mosh pit.    At the inauguration ball in Pensacola there will be no white guy dancing to Fleetwood Mac.    If I am dating the next Ms. Right, we will salsa down a circular staircase backwards to the Stone Roses Love Spreads.   Should I choose to remain single, I’ll cavort merrily down the staircase to Offspring’s Want You Bad.  Regardless, my inauguration will be magical and the Roman candle fight at the end will be the largest and most aggressive Roman candle battle ever seen in Pensacola.



As we all saw during the Presidential election two years ago, Americans were dropping dead in the street and dying painfully from cholera and hemmoragghic fever by the minute.  Although major financial institutions were being shot in the head by their VP and C-level executives daily (as they ran out the back door with wheelbarrows full of Kruggerands), healthcare was one of the top issues in the Presidential election.   Clearly, the death and disease rate continues to rise precipitously because repealing the healthcare legislation remains front and center in any political discussion, even though nothing has actually begun.   We must end this morbidity and mortality before there is no one left to vote for me. 

Florida is forty-third out of fifty states in terms of worst healthcare provided.   If I am in office for a minimum of twelve (12) years, I promise all the Floridites that we will be at least forty-second and quite possibly forty-first by 2025.   We will provide free healthcare for everyone except the following:

  1.  Really fat people, because being morbidly obese is a choice
  2. Those with Creutzfeld-Jacob disease because that’s a tough one to get rid of.   Florida will become a net exporter of patients with Creutzfeld-Jacob disease.    We will export them to Georgia.
  3. All motorcycle riders will be insured in Georgia and all motorcycle-ly injured folks will be bused to the Georgia border on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in odd months and on Tuesday and Thursday in even months.
  4. Smokers, because lung cancer, emphysema, rotten teeth, and heart disease from smoking is also a choice.  
  5. Marathon runners.  Mostly because I am envious that I am unable to run a marathon and if I am unable to run a marathon, then you are not eligible for my free Florida healthcare in 2025.
  6. People who choose to do stupid things like put their tongues on a frozen fire hydrant or drive drunk and get in an accident will not be covered.  These injured folks will be bussed up the Georgia border.

There is a theme of choice in my free healthcare plan; there is also a theme of subjectivity.   My mother Kathy (with a “K”) will perform all triage and make the subjective choices because she retired after a long career as a critical care nurse and VP of Nursing.  You will call Kathy up in The Land of Cleve and mom will decide whether you get treated or bussed to the Georgia border.    Periodically, mom may tell you to “man up and rub a little dirt in it.”   If that is her triage call, man up, rub a little dirt in it and get back on the field.    Mom knows her some triage and is a solid judger of stupidity.



Immediate Laws to Enact


As with most things in my life, I spent six minutes thinking of immediate 2011 legislation the other evening in stream of consciousness brainstorming.    Came up with the following items which I shall shove down the legislature’s collective throats in the first seventy-two hours of my Emperorship of Florida:

  • You must not bring a phone or talk on a phone while walking your dog.   That is your quality time alone with your doggy and your pet deserves your undivided attention during that period.  They may find a fascinating dead thing and want you to examine it with them.  How are you going to do that when you are yapping on the phone?  No more cell phones on dog walks.


  • You don’t talk about Fight Club


  • Everyone taking showers at health clubs where they have group shower areas must cover themselves at all times while walking around the shower area with a Snuggie or something with at least as much cloth material.  No running around nekked or drying your hair at the sinks nekked.   That’s gross


  • Cuba is annexed by, and becomes a suburb of, Miami


  • All members of any Fox News channels are heading directly to the guillotine, even if they do not live in Florida.


  • All Floridites must read all religious books (Book of Mormon, Qur’an, Bible, Torah, Bhagwad Geeta, yadda yadda ) before opining on the supriority of one religion.  This includes the Gideon Bible in the event they have a girl named Lil and get shot by a man named Dan in a saloon, running back to and collapsing in their hotel room.


  • If you have a swimming pool on your property, you must have a manatee in that swimming pool.


  • No one talks about Fight Club


  • No more unicorns.   Especially the flying unicorns


Chelsea Lately


There is a very good chance that by week two of my campaign the opposition will begin a smear campaign, using things I did last month against me.    The day this smear campaign begins, I will begin dating Chelsea Lately and everyone will immediately forget about my indiscretions.    Dating Chelsea should get me through the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November unscathed in the press.  Moreover, she and I look like soul mates.  On paper, anyway.

Let the wild rumpus begin

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Massive Amounts of Krill, Poetry, & A Tasty Shepherd’s Pie Recipe





Best Experienced With:           Hum;           Stars

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s gathering in a new browser window.   That’s a tasty little song with a significantly cool opening riff.)



The Random sent a big ole school of krill off the coast of So Cal this past week.   The krill attracted a whole passel of massive blue whales and their respective dolphin and sunfish posses.    My friend Eb was out stand up paddling off of Hermosa Beach this morning with his camera and took the photos you see below.

When you combine millions of krill, a tasty song by Hum, and fifty foot long blue whales, what do you get?    An easy recipe for Shepherd’s Pie and an old school poem by Sidd Finch, may God rest his soul.    That’s easy arithmetic, even for those of us born and raised in public schools in The Land of Cleve.    Shall we begin?


Dream Undertaker


I am an artist of the mind

With words as pastels and chalk

And thoughts of canvas

Never fully drying or framed.

I am a gardener of the soul

With feelings as trowels

And pain and joy as fertilizer

Always growing and dying.

I am a magician of the heart

With rage and lust as canaries

And love and hate as the hat

I hide them in.

I am an undertaker of dreams,

Neatly cleaning the dead,

And tucking them into their space

Until they bloom anew.

Sidd Finch  (1937-1985)




Shepherd’s Pie


1 cup quick cooking oats
3/4 cup milk
1 Tablespoon crushed beef bouillon
1 egg
2 teaspoons parsley
1 Tablespoon onion flakes
1/4 teaspoon thyme
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1 pound lean ground beef
1 cup diced, cooked carrots
4 cups hot mashed potatoes
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon onion powder
8 oz. shredded cheese


1. Preheat oven to 350F. Drink a Pilsner while waiting.

2. In a large bowl, mix together the oats, milk, egg and soup mix. Add the parsley, onion flakes, pepper, thyme, beef and carrots. Mix all this up while drinking a Pilsner beer.

3. Place this mixture into a pie plate and bake for 45 minutes.  Drink a Pilsner while waiting.

4. While the beef mixture is baking, mix the onion powder and 1/4 teaspoon of black pepper with the mashed potatoes.  Drink a Pilsner while waiting.

5. Remove the meat pie from the oven and drain the fat. Sprinkle the meat crust with 6 oz. of the cheese.

6. Spread the mashed potatoes on top, sprinkle remaining cheese on top of them.   If you have bacon bits, douse entire thing with seven or eight pounds of bacon bits.    Mmmmmmmmmmm!     Bacon!

7. Eat it while drinking a Pilsner beer.    When appropriate, share with blue whales and their posse.


“she’s not at work, she’s not at school,  she’s not in bed…I think I finally broke her”

“i thought she’d be there holding daisies.”

“she always waits for me”

“a crumpled yellow piece of paper.   seven nines and tens”



Filed under Uncategorized




Best Experienced With:     Elvis Costello;    What’s So Funny About Peace, Love & Understanding?

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s gathering in a new browser window)


 (Radical fundamentalist Islamic violence in NYC)



 (Gandhi’s funeral pyre after being assassinated in 1948 by a radical fellow Hindu)



 (Killing fields of Cambodia:  radical Cambodian on Cambodian violence)


And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well.  (Matthew 5:40)


  (Radical Serbian against Jews violence:  Serbia, 1944)


 (Radical Serbian on Serbian violence:  1999)

 (Radical American on American violence:  1950’s) 



 (Radical Sudanese on Sudanese violence:  Darfur)


Do not say, “I’ll do to him as he has done to me; I’ll pay that man back for what he did.”   (Proverbs 24:29)


  (Radical Irish on Irish violence:  Sunday Bloody Sunday)


   (Radical American on American violence:  Sunday Bloody Sunday in Selma, Alabama)


  (Radical Rwandan on Rwandan violence:  1994)


  (Radical Chinese on Chinese violence:  1989)


But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.   (Matthew 5:39)



Never forget, yet still act in a fashion every minute of every day that models the way and leads everyone away from the scenes above (Mully: 3.1415926535897932)


Filed under Uncategorized

asa lama lakum…salakum salam



Best Experienced With:          The Housemartins;        Sheep

(Please right click on the link below to open the suggested background music to this evening’s treatise.  No one should ever burn any book…..ever.)









 “When you see a cane I see a crock.”  “When you see a crowd I see a flock.” It is sheep we are up against, indeed.   The Housemartins:  accept no substitutes when looking for intelligent political, satirical, lyrical stylings and beautiful music.   Hostess Ho-Ho’s:  accept no substitutes when looking for a snack cake.      Martin Niemoller:  accept no substitutes when you feel the need for real.  





Als die Nazis die Kommunisten holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Kommunist.

Als sie die Sozialdemokraten einsperrten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Sozialdemokrat.

Als sie die Gewerkschafter holten,
habe ich nicht protestiert;
ich war ja kein Gewerkschafter.

Als sie die Juden holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Jude.

Als sie mich holten,
gab es keinen mehr, der protestierte.


(Mr. Vernon from Illinois wants to burn Bender)

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Shermer High School,  Shermer, Illinois, 60062.

Dear Reverend Jones,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did was wrong but we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. What do you care? You see us as you want to see us; in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. You see us as a Muslim, an atheist, a Jew, a Buddhist and a Hindu. Correct? That’s the way we saw each other at 7:00 a.m. this morning.        We were brainwashed.

(Dr. Jones from Florida wants to burn Qur’ans)


When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.

When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.

When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.

When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn’t a Jew.

When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.


1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

The Airing of the Grievances: Please Pass the Pederasts. Thank You!



Best Experienced With:          Marianne Faithfull;        Ballad of Lucy Jordan

(Please right click on the link below to cue up the suggested background music for this evening’s treatise)



Promised something by this evening on Nashian economic theory, fractals, and gaming theory.   Had something relatively spiffy written on The Prisoner’s Dilemma with Hostess Snack Cakes as the reward.  There was also an “if…then” gaming simulation using Nash’s equilibrium where it was you and Carrot Top working on the optimum cumulative payout with HGH, dianabol and plastic surgery.    

Had to set that one aside when I saw Doreen Carvajal’s article in the New York Times this evening.  Titled “In Belgium. Ex-Cardinal Says Abuser Misled Him”, Ms. Carvajal’s article was about, shocker, pedophile priests.   More precisely, the article was about how the former leader of the Catholic Church in Belgium tried to suppress a man’s testimony of his serial sexual abuse at the hands of one of Belgium’s Catholic priests.   Cardinal Danneels is on tape trying to talk the family out of making the sexual abuse public.  

Shocker.   Who woulda thunk it?

Each new week brings several dozen new visitors here and each month we lose a few dozen through the thinning of the herd.   It’s always good to thin the herd.  Tonight we will thin those Catholics who choose to turn a blind eye to the supression of pedophile priests.   


While my sainted mother remains a deacon in her Catholic church, am relatively certain she will not be in the thinned portion of the herd.   Mom embraces my kicking the Catholic Church to the curb and in the teeth.  Mom and I have agreed to disagree and hug it out for years.  I feel sorry for mom because she has to hang out with the pedophile hiders, yet love her no less today than before I chose to move on up to a Disciples of Christ church where we stone pederasts in the parking lot each Sunday at 10:23 a.m.   Spent most of my my life as a Catholic, making me uniquely qualified to opine on the silliness below, especially the Catholic Church jumping of the shark.

On September 22, 1977 the writers of “Happy Days” ruined the television series forever by having Fonzie don water skis and jump a shark.   Not only did this take suspension of disbelief into a completely different dimension, it was just plain stupid.    First of all, very few 1950 Milwaukee auto mechanics knew how to water ski in open ocean, let alone  possess the skills to jump a shark their first time on water skis.  Second, I have lived in California for fifteen years and have yet to see a live shark in a pen anywhere near a California pier.  One would think the probability of this happening in 1950 would be significantly lower than in 2010.   Thirdly, Fonzie was wearing a leather jacket and, again, that’s just plain stupid.

Jumping the shark.    What a fantastic phrase.

There was a worldwide uproar in the mid 1990’s when many credible news agencies reported that Nike Corporation used “slave” labor in Pakistan and Cambodia to manufacture our shoes and whatnot.   More important, Nike very hypocritically began a “woman power” marketing campaign in their largest market, the United States, while still opening factories in misogynistic countries with less than stellar human rights history when it comes to women and children.

While these revelations were supposed to be Nike’s “jumping the shark”, no one really paid too much attention and Anderson Cooper only did a single twelve minute episode on Nike, clad in a painted on black tee shirt.   Again, shocker.  Ever the fan of voting my conscience using my wallet, I have chosen to not purchase Nike since Nike chose to jump into my mental bucket labeled “hypocrites”.  

The Catholic Church first jumped the shark in the mid 1990’s when the Boston Globe first reported on egregious hiding and moving of pedophile priests.  Over the past fifteen years, we have all read about similarly egregious behavior in our largest cities.

Numbers and facts back up the Catholic Church shark jumping escapades.  Published in 2002, the John Jay Report listed the following:

  • 10,667 reports of sexual abuse against minors from 1950 through 2002
  • 149 priests (out of the 4,392) committed 26% of the reported abuse
  • 143 priests had sexual abuse allegations in more than one diocese because they were moved.  
  • 1 priest was moved 4 times and abused a child each time
  • Few incidents were reported to the police
  • 81% of the abuse victims were male
  • The vast majority of the victims were post pubescent
  • 51% of the abuse victims were between 11 and 14
  • More than half of the detailed sexual abuse happened for more than a single year
  • Roughly 20% of the reported abuse spanned two to five years.   After being reported.



One of the best books in recent years is Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower.   Some compare it to The Catcher in the Rye, although I am holding out hope that serial killers and those wishing to murder ex Beatles do not abandon Catcher for Perks.  That would ruin Perks for me and many others.  The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a masterful, clever read:  pick it up for a plane ride or a beach day.  You are welcome.

Midway through the book is a poem.    This is the poem.   You are welcome.

once on a yellow piece of paper,

he wrote a poem

and he called it “chops”

because that was the name of his dog.

and that’s what it was about

and his teacher gave him an A

and a gold star

and his mother hung it on the door

and read it to his aunts

that was the year father tracy

took all the kids to the zoo

and let them sing on the bus

that was the year his little sister was born

with tiny toenails and no hair

and his mother and father kissed a lot

and the girl around the corner sent him a

valentine signed with a row of x’s

and he had to ask his father what the x’s meant

and his father always tucked him in at night

and was always there to do it

once on a piece of white paper with blue lines

he wrote a poem called “autumn”

because that was the name of the season

and that’s what it was all about

and his teacher gave him an A

and asked him to write more clearly

and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door

because of its new paint

and the kids told him

that father tracy smoked cigars

and left butts on the pews

and sometimes they would burn holes

that was the year his sister got glasses

with thick lenses and black frames

and the girl around the corner laughed

when he asked her to go see santa claus

and the kids told him why

his mother and father kissed a lot

and his father never tucked him in at night

and got mad

when he cried for him to do it

once on a piece of paper torn from his notebook

he wrote a poem

called “innocence; a question”

because that was the question about his girl

and that’s what is was all about

and his professor gave him an A

and a strange steady look

and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door

becaue he never showed her

that was the year that father tracy died

and he forgot how the end

of apostle’s creed went

and he caught his sister

making out on the back porch

and his mother and father never kissed

or even talked

and the girl around the corner

wore too much makeup

that made him cough when he kissed her

but he kissed her anyway

because that was the thing to do

and at three a.m he tucked himself into bed

his father snoring soundly

that’s why on the back of a brown paper bag

he tried another poem

and he called it “absolutely nothing”

because that’s what it was really about

and he gave himself an A

and a slash on each damned wrist

and he hung it on that bathroom door

because he didn’t think

he could reach the kitchen

Michael Ungalo killed himself on May 4, 2010.   His family subsequently filed a wrongful death lawsuit against the Catholic diocese of Pittsburgh because Mr. Ungalo was molested for several years by Richard Dorsch, the priest at his church:  All Saints Church.  Pedophile Father Dorsch was later defrocked and imprisoned after he was convicted of abusing another boy.  Here is Mr. Ungalo’s obituary:

Age 39, of New York City. Beloved son, brother, uncle and friend died suddenly May 4, 2010. He will be dearly missed and fondly remembered for his passion, intelligence, adventurous spirit, humor, generosity, creativity and deep love of family and friends. Michael graduated with honors from the University of Pennsylvania, where he served on the Student Committee on Undergraduate Education and as President of Alpha Phi Delta fraternity. An accomplished copywriter, avid runner and seasoned traveler, Michael completed three marathons. Friends will be received MONDAY evening from 6-9pm at WORRELL FUNERAL HOME, INC., corner of Main and Ninth Sts. Sharpsburg. Funeral Service will be conducted TUESDAY at 11am from Christ Episcopal Church, 5910 Babcock Blvd. Pittsburgh, PA 15237. Interment will be private. In lieu of flowers, contributions can be made to the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children or to Autism Speaks.



Perhaps one of the finest lines in any book pops up in Mr. Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower.   “We accept the love we think we deserve.”  Nike has most likely never been played a strong role in the formative years of any child.   I have yet to meet a twenty-three year old who through it would be a fantastic idea to open a Malaysian sweat shop because that’s what their role model Nike did when they were twelve.    Would imagine that if Nike Corporation hid thousands of pedophile employees around the world, Nike would be out of business today.  Why is the Catholic Church still in business when there are hundreds of church alternatives available?   Economically, does the Catholic Church have inelastic demand curves?

If you committed an act as egregious as molesting a child at your company’s Omaha, Nebraska facility, what are the odds that your company would move you to your Jacksonville,. Florida facility?    Zero?   Less than zero?    If A, then B.  If B, then C.

If A, then C.

Abusers tend to abuse others because it is a learned behavior.   An awful, learned behavior that takes years of intense therapy to unlearn.  At the very least, these priests caused thousands of their parishioners to have less than ideal adult relationships with their significant others.  As we have seen over the past few years (what Pope Benedict chose to do in Germany, the Belgian ex Cardinal, ad infinitum & ad nauseum), the 10,667 reports of sexual abuse against minors in the John Jay report is a microcosm of what has gone on for decades, known to the Catholic Church. 

The system should have been there for these 10,667 folks and, moreover, the institution should have most certainly created a safe and secure environment for all to worship.   These children were not only victimized by the pedophile priests, they were victimized all the way up to a position I once believed to be infallible, The Pope.

Hiding pedophile priests is more stupid than a 1950’s Milwaukee auto mechanic jumping a shark on waterskis in a pen off the California coast while wearing a leather jacket.    That’s a whole lotta stupid.


Those of you wishing to read the John Jay report in its entirety can find it at the link below.   I read it cover to cover this evening and it is riveting.   Disgusting, yet riveting.  Unlike Fox News, I actually do all my research before vomiting words onto a keyboard.


Those of you wishing to see Catholic pedophile priest reports from around the world, feel free to visit the following links:




The North Pole


Italy (Italy is chock full)

Thanks for joining tonight.    If you would like to join me at a non-pedophile hiding church, please meet me at 10:43 Sunday morning at the Pacific Beach Christian Church….directions are below.   I tend to show up a little late because of all the touching and hugging they do in the first thirteen minutes.    I get enough of that in mosh pits and such.   At our church we have black people and white people, liberals and conservatives, gay couples and straight couples.   No pedophile priests, though.   We tend to frown on that behavior and although we “open wide our hearts to God and one another”…………we don’t open our hearts wide to pedophile priests.  We bludgeon them.  If anyone has a shotgun in their car, we’ll kneecap them, too.

You have to draw a line somewhere, you know?


Still here?   The second best line from The Perks of Being a Wallflower?  Good question.   Here’s the answer.    “I feel infinite….”

 Good night.


1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized