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You can't fight here, this is a contest!

It always frosts my calvinator when a major sports brawl is treated as some great stain on the game, as is the shake-out from Friday night's Pacers/Pistons/several very dumb or drunk fans melee. On ESPN I witnessed Bill Walton describing the hubbub as "the worst moment he's ever known in basketball," or some damned thing. Funny, I often think the same thing after hearing one of his color-commentary insights. At least he didn't break out the "HORRIBLE!"

I don't know, maybe I look at organized sport differently than most. But to me it is neither shocking nor appalling when an act of ritualized combat before thousands of emotionally charged spectators occasionally breaks down into real combat, even including spectators. To me, it's part of the game. Not a travesty, but a highlight. And when ESPN devotes hours to simultaneously condemning the incident and broadcasting the best-laid punches on an endless video loop, well, it just don't get much more hypocritical than that. Be honest: once upon a time, we watched lions eat people. We still enjoy hockey and boxing, bloody as they get. Battle is battle, no matter how many rules and rituals you lacquer over it.

One other thing: I now love Ron Artest. He completely refused to engage Ben Wallace. He retreated, lay down, and put on head phones. He was trying real hard to be the shepherd. But some punk threw a beer at his face. And then -- you can see this on the video -- stood and taunted him, even as Artest dashed over chairs to lay the bastard out. You're that dumb, you deserve to be decked. Same goes for the guy who ran out on the court and got in Artest's face. (Although, if you watch it a few times, you can see that "oh shit, why did I just do this?" moment hit the guy just before Artest does.)

All in all: I like brawls. Anyone calling this a tragedy needs to read beyond the sports page once in a while. Two thumbs up!

Retiring the Vadge Badge

John Ashcroft has decided to retire. And as near as I can tell, his probable replacement, Alberto Gonzales, is more interested in justifying torture and annoying pro-lifers than in elevating our morals. So, until the new guy makes any moves on my porno, I am going to retire the Vadge Badge. This means FLOG might actually be work-safe some of the time. Though I make no promises. I am what I am.

Your Oregon Legislature at work

This is rather old news, dating from the spring of 2003, but if any bona fide Oregon news outlets plumbed its depths at the time, I'm not aware of it. Anyway, I'm a historian by training: I like old news. So join me as I trace the depressing journey of a recent Oregon bill intended to get the OLCC out of the distilled spirits business forever.

Liquor Control

Oregon is a "control state" when it comes to the distribution of distilled spirits. Our Liquor Control Commission (OLCC) is the Al Capone of hard booze in this state; its control of wholesaling, distribution and retail is utterly complete.

Case in point: Rogue Brewing Co., in addition to producing its highly acclaimed boutique beers, has recently entered the business of distilling its own liquors. Rogue also operates a number of bars throughout the state. In order for Rogue to serve its own distilled spirits at its own bars, the company must sell its liquor to the OLCC, then buy it back at marked-up prices. According to Rogue President Jack Joyce, the company thereby cedes roughly $10 to the OLCC per bottle, a sum the company has whittled down by about $1.50 by becoming an OLCC-licensed liquor "store."

The OLCC takes a similar pound of flesh from every seller and consumer of liquor in Oregon. Consider the pricing life of a bottle of MacTarnahan's single malt scotch, imported and labeled by Portland Brewing Co. Portland Brewing imports a bottle from the distillery in Scotland for roughly $18, including state and federal import tax. The company then sells the bottle to the OLCC for about $25. By the time the bottle reaches consumers, the OLCC asks us to pay a nickle short of $50 -- a 200% markup that Portland Brewing CEO Jerome Chicvara describes as nothing short of "rapacious." By comparison, the MacTarnahan goes for less than $40 in the comparatively free market of California.

A Modest Proposal

In March of 2003, House Bill 3130 was introduced to the Oregon Legislature by Representative Randy Miller of West Linn. As trumpeted in the Bend Bulletin, the bill would end our state's "Prohibition anachronism" -- the OLCC's anticompetitive, "nonsensical" monopoly on distilled spirits. No longer would liquor be sold in state-run outlets at outrageous markups and capricious hours (absent market pressure, liquor stores are free to deem it reasonable to close as early as 6:30 PM; by contrast, liquor is available for sale until 2 AM in California.) Booze would rather be sold by private outlets under license from the OLCC.

The summary (linked to above) of Bill 3130 stated its purpose clearly:

Eliminates role of Oregon Liquor Control Commission in
importing, warehousing and retailing of distilled liquors.

Creates off-premises distilled liquor license. Authorizes
holder of license to sell factory-sealed containers of distilled
liquor for consumption off licensed premises. Allows holder of
license to establish prices of distilled liquor. Establishes
conditions and fees for off-premises distilled liquor license.

Creates wholesale liquor license. Prohibits importation,
storage, transportation, wholesale sale or distribution of
distilled liquor without wholesale liquor license. Establishes
conditions and fees for wholesale liquor license.

. . .

Becomes operative July 1, 2004.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the governor's desk.

Malternatives!

On May 13, HB 3130 was referred to the House Rules and Affairs Committee, and there it met an interesting set of lobbyists.

Far away from Randy Miller, but right under the nose of Committee member Linda Flores, who signed onto HB 3130 originally, the Committee heard exactly no discussion of the proposal to phase the OLCC out of the distilled spirits business.

Instead, it considered "amendments" to 3130 and took testimony from lobbyists for the Oregon Grocery Industry Association, 7-11 and Anhauser-Busch. The subject of their testimony? Keeping it legal, until pending federal regulations take effect, to sell so-called "malternatives" or "flavored beer" -- Mike's Hard Lemonade, Smirnoff Ice, etc. -- in grocery stores.

The Committee, after hearing this testimony, voted unanimously to recommend HB 3130 to the full House, as amended by language brought to the table by the Anhauser-Busch lobbyists.

Gut And Stuff

HB 3130, in its amended form before the Rules and Affairs Committee, read in its effective totality:

Relating to alcoholic beverages; and declaring an emergency.
Be It Enacted by the People of the State of Oregon:
SECTION 1. { + Section 2 of this 2003 Act is added to and made
a part of ORS chapter 471. + }
SECTION 2. { + Notwithstanding any other provision of this
chapter or ORS chapter 473, any alcoholic beverage being sold by
off-premises sales licensees as a malt beverage on the effective
date of this 2003 Act may continue to be sold as a malt beverage
until December 31, 2004, and shall be taxed as a malt beverage
under ORS chapter 473 until December 31, 2004, even though the
alcoholic beverage contains more than one-half of one percent of
distilled liquor. + }
SECTION 3. { + This 2003 Act being necessary for the immediate
preservation of the public peace, health and safety, an emergency
is declared to exist, and this 2003 Act takes effect on its
passage. + }

Where previously there had been pages of amendments to the Oregon statutes totally eviscerating the OLCC's role in liquor retail, there was now one effective statement -- "any alcoholic beverage being sold by off-premises sales licensees as a malt beverage . . . may continue to be sold as a malt beverage until December 31, 2004, and shall be taxed as a malt beverage under ORS chapter 473 until December 31, 2004" -- intended to give breathing room to the producers of "malternatives" until new federal regulations took effect. The Rules and Affairs Committee recommended the bill "as amended" to the full House.

So, instead of getting real, quality distilled spirits in our grocery stores at market prices, we would for several months continue to have the privilege of being able to buy Smirnoff Ice. It was a classic "gut and stuff" legislative move. To complete the lobbying coup, the summary of the bill, as submitted to the full House, still declared that it would "{eliminate the) role of Oregon Liquor Control Commission in importing, warehousing and retailing of distilled liquors," long after it could do anything of the sort. It passed the House without controversy, a similar version passed the Senate, and the Governor signed it into law.

As well he should have, for the bill declared itself "necessary for the immediate preservation of the public peace, health and safety . . ."

Lord knows, we'd have been mighty unpeaceful, unhealthy, and unsafe without our hard lemonade.

* * * * *

If you made it this far, you surely have little faith left in your elected state legislators. So I should cheer you up a tad. Here: there's bound to be worse stuff deep inside this.

Fresh "foto" feature!

Over at my Photographic Web Area, you will find 20 fresh pieces of armchair aerial photography, courtesy of NASA's World Wind software and my genius for procrastination. They're not "of" anything . . . or are they?

Go! Go!

Ha ha funny link

Well, if you want fresh floggings, and apparently you do, sometimes you have to settle for a single semi-amusing link that you may have seen already.

So here! Awesome!

Virgin, my ass

An old lady in Buffalo, NY has held onto this grilled cheese sandwich for 10 years, believing it to contain a miraculous apparition of the Virgin Mary:

She's now decided to share the moldy Miracle-o-Jesus by hocking it on eBay.

But is that Mary? Look at those full, pouty, lips, and that lock of hair tossed alluringly across the brow of her right eye. And look into her eyes: they overflow with seduction. This isn't the Virgin Mary, it's a damned pin-up girl! Hasn't anyone had the heart to tell this poor lady that she's been cherishing the miraculous-sandwich equivalent of a dirty postcard for the last ten years?

For your further amusement, Hit & Run has a similar Willie Nelson anecdote.

You Damned Kids!

Last night we were the victims of mailbox baseball. Lord knows we had it coming. Well, I did, anyway. I don't know how much late night mischief FLOGette got into in high school.

Even so. Would you hurt such a cute mailbox? What are we going to tell the landlord, who probably painted those clouds on it herself? Damned kids.

Titling this post would take some of the fun out of it

What the hell is that?

_____________________

I'll tell you what it is. It's FLOG's A Week After Halloween Rotting Pumpkin Spectacular! Last night at Rennie's I was latched onto by a tall, probably heavily drugged man in a zombie afro clown costume. He explained that he had forgotten to dress up on Halloween, so he figured he'd do it on November 5. The way he was drinking his beer with a straw, and his offer to "just come over and sit with you guys until I go to the dance," creeped me out pretty good. And I realized: Halloween is even spookier when it's not Halloween. In that spirit, here are some rotten Jack o' Lanterns. You were looking at the inside of one.

This cute lil fella was the first to give up the ghost. FLOGette carved it to look like a tiki god. Now it's an elderly tiki god. Scary!

Structurally, this one has held together pretty well. And it's a pretty classic look from FLOGette there. But wouldn't you just love to sink your teeth into all that mold? Jeepers Creepers!

The ants would, apparently. C'mon, can it get any spookier than ants picking apart a smiley-face? Boo!

This was my big Jack o' Lantern. It hasn't been touched since Halloween. All that damage is self-inflicted. Chilling!

I was trying to reinvent the Jack o' Lantern on this one. It's a goddamned Mondrian-disco tour de force. Was, anyway. Eee!

The only one that has kept it together is my Robo-Jack 3000 here. I built it to last. And it's pretty sharp lookin' with fire inside it. If you're really nice, I'll show you later.

Yes, Mom, of course we threw them out immediately after this! Honest!

Gov't: in your corner

Because I haven't said much in a while, here are a regulation and a statute you didn't ask for:

36 CFR § 272.1

(a) The term "Woodsy Owl" means the name and representation of a fanciful owl, who wears slacks (forest green when colored), a belt (brown when colored), and a Robin Hood style hat (forest green when colored) with a feather (red when colored), and who furthers the slogan, "Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute," originated by the Forest Service of the United States Department of Agriculture, or a facsimile or simulation thereof, in such a manner as suggests "Woodsy Owl."

California Penal Code § 599. Selling or giving away poultry or rabbits as inducement to enter contest, place of amusement or business

Every person is guilty of a misdemeanor who:

(a) Sells or gives away, any live chicks, rabbits, ducklings, or other fowl as a prize for, or as an inducement to enter, any contest, game or other competition or as an inducement to enter a place of amusement or place of business; or

(b) Dyes or otherwise artificially colors any live chicks, rabbits, ducklings or other fowl, or sells, offers for sale, or gives away any live chicks, rabbits, ducklings, or other fowl which has been dyed or artificially colored . . .

Bear them in mind.

Bear? Oh, fine, here's the legal definition of Smokey the Bear. Note the differences from Woodsy Owl:

36 CFR § 271.1 Definitions.

(a) The term "Smokey Bear" as used in the regulations in this part means the character "Smokey Bear" originated by the Forest Service of the United States Department of Agriculture in cooperation with the Association of State Foresters and The Advertising Council, or any facsimile thereof, or the name "Smokey Bear," or any name or designation sufficiently similar as to suggest the character "Smokey Bear".

Now why did I go and do that?

Pteh! Pteh! Pteh!

Part of my effort to immerse myself in a shock-bath of German kultur this past August was an intrepid investigation of the daily offal offerings at the Continental breakfast table. I ate a whole lot of unknowable crap that looked like this or that, and I'd usually regret doing so as soon as it hit my stomach and met up with the stragglers from the previous night's barley fest.

Well, as I shrugged off the grogs this morning over the latest Maxim (in which you may choose whether to snore or sleep on Laura Prepon, figuratively of course, but unfortunately she's gone blond), what to my wondering eyes should appear but the revelation that I probably FUCKING ATE HORSE:

See, them Germans love to eat horses. Demand for Trigger's flesh jumped three years ago when Mad Cow disease made imported British beef deadly. In fact, the people of the fatherland consumed 6,900 tons of horse meat back in 2001, and they continue to deprive American dogs of the low-grade food they deserve.

Maxim, November 2004, 40.

Up until today, I was joking when I said a lot of what the Germans ate for breakfast was wet dog food. Now I see it is true. And all I can think to say is, PTEH!