Hello, my name is Misterlevittown and I’m an addict.

Interesting title don’t you think? Yes, I’m an addict. I know this to be true and I’ve been one for a very long time. It looks like more than forty years. Alcohol? No. All sorts of illegal drugs? No. Pornography? No but I know the problems that porn can cause. Hint: It’s something we all need – food.

We all can have bouts of emotional eating and I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about taking a substance (food in this case) and using it to feel better. All the time. Almost daily. My obsession with food is long and mostly hidden.

I can tell you right now that my family and friends can see that I’m bigger than I should be but I’m sure they have not been able to figure out the whole. Who knows maybe they have. I don’t know.

I will give some background but I just can’t give a complete background story right now.

Time for a really accurate blanket statement: the first twenty years of my life was filled with turmoil. I know that it sounds cliched but it’s true.

Ten different elementary schools in Michigan. One each of a elementary school, middle school and  high school in Pennsylvania. And last but not least one high school in Florida.

That’s fourteen schools in thirteen years. Sometimes I wonder if that’s some sort of record. Probably not but who knows?

Total non sequiter: While typing this entry I’m listening to Music Choice Sounds of the Seasons channel and I hear Neil Diamond singing “Silver Bells”. It just does’nt sound right with America’s Favorite Sequined Singer singing Christmas songs.

While sitting at my computer contemplating my next words to type I’ve come to realize that I’ve probably shared all I need to share about this subject except that to finally realize that this has turned into an absolutely liberating experience.

I went to an Christian Alternatives to Addiction meeting at my church home this past monday night. I think somewhere else on this blog I mentioned that my church home is Calvary Chapel Philadelphia.

It was recommended to me about two months ago to check out this meeting but quite frankly I was scared to do so. Why was I scared? Because I was listening to voices of darkness instead of the still small voice of my Creator.

What I saw at this meeting were about 150 people of all sorts. You name a category of people and they were there. Short, tall, fat, thin, white, black, beige (me), hispanic, asian, old,young, male, female.

It was stunning to see this cross section of America and Christianity. I was’nt alone anymore. I was’nt alone ANYMORE!! I just was’nt alone.

Intellectually I knew I was’nt alone with this aspect of my life but getting this knowledge to my heart was a roundabout journey. I finally understand about the trip from head to heart being the hardest journey of all.

I have to admit that a small part of me knew that My Heavenly Father was always with me but I had forgotten about that. I think I can do a better job from here on in my life.

This does’nt mean I won’t mess up because I am a sinner saved by the grace of GOD and us sinners tend to screw up every now and then.

This whole experience has turned out to be very liberating. Whenever I talk to my friends of mine about all this I keep using the word “liberating”. It’s the only word that applies. It’s the only word I need.

Thank you Jesus.

 

 

Could someone please bury Michael Jackson!

As of this time and date, 12:24AM EST on July 13th, 2009, Michael Jackson is still not buried. Susan Powter time: STOP THE INSANITY!!

This poor guy has been dead for roughly 17 days and the discussion about the disposition of the body is still going on. It’s madness!!

After his trial back in 2005 he said he never wanted to go back to his ranch called NeverLand. Fine. You don’t want to go there again you don’t have to go back. Fairly simple concept I would say. But, now the Jackson family are split into two groups with different ideas on where to bury him.

Toss out NeverLand. He didn’t want to go there so why bury his mortal remains at the place he didn’t want to see again? Just bury the poor guy at Forest Lawn Cemetary out in Los Angeles if for no other reason  because his body is already being stored there.

May this long international nightmare end already. Please. Oh, also could the money be refunded to the ticketholders in London. The concerts ain’t happenin’

What was I doing in Heathrow?

There are many times in life where I wonder about my sanity. Last night was one of those times. I went to bed about 2 am last night. I strapped on the lovely cpap mask and probably fell asleep in about 15 minutes. Except for the cpap headgear everything else sounds normal doesn’t it?

Not quite.

I did wake up twice which is normal for me but I did fall right back asleep. What happened next is surely an indication of your humble blogger, MisterLevittown, losing his mind.

The dream I had was of me running all over Heathrow Airport which is just outside London. Also, Heathrow, in my dream anyway, was a cross between Harrods and an airport. I’m been very fortunate in that I’ve been to England twice. Both times I went there I flew into Heathrow and I stopped into Harrods. At the very beginning of the dream I realize that my plane ticket is missing. Was it at my hotel or lost on the streets somewhere? Who knows? Here I am at Heathrow without a ticket so what do I do? Why I go to Ticketing of course. I have proper ID so what could possibly go wrong?

Plenty.

I couldn’t find ticketing. Anywhere. I’m asking all sorts of people for directions to where I need to be and I “ain’t” gettin’ no where fast.  I “ran” all over the airport and I just couldn’t find Ticketing. “Ran” is in question marks because I can’t really run anywhere because I need a cane to hobble everywhere I go. The cane makes a great chick magnet. Buy one and see what happens. Guys, you’ll thank me.

Somewhere during all this I lost the cane. I can’t find the thing anywhere. I retrace my steps. I ask for help. The cane can’t be found at all. I then wake up.

Where in the wide, wide world of sports did all that come from? I’ve had some weird dreams in my life but this was just plain odd. When I think about it this really is one of my more normal odd dreams. Maybe I need to check with my doctor about increasing my medication. What medication that is we don’t need to go into now so don’t ask.

The question still remains about what was I doing at Heathrow. I wonder. If you can figure this out please tell me. This inquiring misterlevittown would love to know.

 

Where oh where has my Vinny dog been?

A long time ago in a galaxy far away I knew a guy who was and still is the bane of my existence. When I first met the a–hole he was a punk. After I got to know him I still thought he was a punk and an a–hole. But, in the fullness of time I came to realize that he was my kind of punk and a–hole so I should just go ahead and like him. 

I met my eye-talian friend somewhere in the 1980’s. Exactly when I don’t know and frankly Scarlet I don’t care. We both worked in the Justice Complex in Trenton, New Jersey. We worked for two different companies who had satellite offices in the Superior Court. When work was slow, after we became friends of course, Vinny and I would play Paper Football. Hey! Don’t get all indignant about it. We did our work first. Most of the time. 

But I digress.

The Vinster and I came up with a fair amount of humorous things that kept us entertained. We took on the Beasty Boys with our remake “You gotta fight for the right to go potty.” He would alter a caricature of the 1987 (I think) Philadelphia Flyers and put me in it with the requisite hockey stick and helmet. How about some Genesis: “Land of Kodusian”. Do you want some Bangles? I got yer Bangles right here: “Walk like a Kodu-ian”.

Yes, it was like unbridled maturity had run amok.

Did I mention that my old friend liked a little beverage called beer? There are stories to be told about that subject. You will be afraid.

Well, it came to be where we lost track  of each other. Vinny fell upon some hardship and become a federal employee. Sad but true. I continued working in Trenton. Yes, I question my judgment as well. He got married to a woman who is so far superior to him and his squalid swarthiness it’s ridiculous. The only reason she is married to this doofus is because of some form of mind control. It has to be. If you saw Vinny you would agree with me. No offense Vin.

They had two kids which they didn’t name after me and despite this glaring error these kids seem to be upstanding people anyway. Shocking but true.

We lost track of each other for about 12-13 years. I would wonder about him every now and then and of course I would promptly vomit. Not a lot but enough to require the carpet cleaner. I have to admit that I missed him and his ridiculously nice wife over the years. He got busy with life and I did as well and we just lost contact.

Recently, my friend Jenny basically forced me to create a facebook page. Hey, she’s a woman so that makes her tougher than me. So I did. One of Vinny’s kids did the same thing to him. A few weeks ago he started entering names and found me. He wrote to me asking me if I knew him and like all decent people I denied knowing him.

Wait a second. That sounds awfully biblical. Sorry Jesus.

I wrote back and I saw him a couple weeks ago. It was an experience I won’t forget. I got lost on my way to his house. At one point I had gone ten miles beyond his town here in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. All trees that obscure street signs should be shot!

I eventually got there and had a great time. His wife looks the same as way back when: beautiful. Vinny looked about the same but he did have a fair amount of gray hair. There’s more to tell but it’s very late and I have to go to bed. Don’t worry my friends because part two of this story will be here soon. Maybe I should tell the old beer stories. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

 

My Own Personal Blitzkrieg

Blitzkrieg. When you think of this word images of german panzers sweeping across Europe during the Second World War come to mind. Or maybe the modern era event during the first Gulf War back in 1991 where Coalition forces devastated Iraqi tank and infantry units including the vaunted Republican Guard during the air and ground phases of Desert Storm.

Well, two weeks ago I had my own personal blitzkrieg when two of my brothers, Mister Dallas and Mister Fort Lauderdale, flew into Philadelphia to jumpstart in a VERY SERIOUS way my life.

A little backtracking is in order at this point. Very early in February of this year I was extremely and totally infected with some sort of flu-like bug. I say “flu-like” because I did have a flu shot back in October of last year. My thinking was that I had something other than this flu season’s strain of the flu.

Am I being redundant with the word “flu”? Yeah, so get over it.

I have no memory of it but apparently while sick I had a phone conversation with Mister Dallas. The aforementioned Mister Dallas was alarmed at how I sounded.

Here’s a news flash Mister Dallas: I was alarmed. I hadn’t been that sick in probably ten years.

Back to le histoire of this little story. That’s a little french lingo for you Mister Dallas.

After the phone conversation with me Mister Dallas Cowboy Butt-Boy Fan called our brother Mister Fort Lauderdale and forged an Let’s Help Mister Levittown Alliance and planned an assault of brotherly proportions on the circumstances of my life.

Along with being temporarily felled by illness I’ve also been beaten down by certain events and situations in my life where I can see where people (read that to be family and friends) who would think that maybe some sort of intervention was in order.

For several years, I have to admit, I have been drifting. No particular direction, no plan, barely any thought about the course of my life, nothing. Inaction was my action. Frankly, I was just too fearful of failure to do anything.

I’ve had friends talk to me about this aspect of my life and they’ve been exasperated by my inaction. So have I. Depression and fear are very strong enemies.

I am fighting back.

By the way, “several years” means about 30 years. Ever since I moved back to Pennsylvania. Yeah, I know that really sounds pathetic. Anyway…….

The blitzkrieg was launched against ………how can I phrase this? My apartment had become a home to dust, dirt, clutter and packrat debris……………the mess that had become my home.

Mister Dallas brought heavy guns to bear immediately after entering my apartment. Just before arriving home from the airport we had stopped to pick up commercial grade cleaning supplies.

The ferocity of his assault against the dirt was impressive. It was also humbling. For here was a man who had in his heart the desire to stop what he was doing at his home in Texas and fly here to Pennsylvania to help me in my time of need that at the time I didn’t even think I was in.

Yes, it was humbling. And he wasn’t alone. Mister Fort Lauderdale did the same thing. His mission was to help me determine what I should do in the short term (next three months) and my church involvement (waaaay longer than three months). All this activity in hopes to get me back on a good track.

Since I was laid off from my job in New Jersey last August I had become very complacent about my future prospects. I did the usual thing and applied for unemployment benefits. I was very fortunate that I was to recieve severence pay from my now former employer.

With money coming in from two different sources, albeit for a very short time, I became extraordinarily lazy. I would wake up with a mental list of things to do and some little thing would derail me and I would then do nothing.

I’m sorry that last sentence was and is incorrect. I would end up on the couch and would alternately watch tv and sleep the day away. Watching tv and sleeping during the day ARE activities just not positive ones .  Trust me I do know that this course of action is not exactly conducive to having money to maintain a roof over my head that just might be more substantial than  cardboard .

This went on for the rest of 2008 and well into 2009.

My brothers pretty much knew this and more about me for some time. I think with me being very sick and they both knowing that my unemployment benefits running out that time for extreme action was fast approaching.

I come back to the word “blitzkrieg”. As in any endeavour my brothers had a plan. They implemented their respective plans and I was sufficiently overwhelmed.

My complacency was trampled under the treads of their “tanks”. I still deal with varying levels of fear. And I mean very lower case fear. And depression is still somewhat in the mix but not overwhelmingly so.

My surroundings are now so much cleaner and organized. Not completely clean and not completely organized but a helluva lot better than it was before.

I purposed in my heart to honor the efforts of my brothers and do my best to keep up with cleaning and organizing my home and my life.

Well, I could probably go on and on about all this but I’m wordy enough already so I think I should just put this entry to bed.

In conclusion I say in a darkly humorous way: blitzkrieg, it’s not just for breakfast anymore.

In a more serious vein: blitzkrieg, who knew that it could be an act of love?

My Kingdom for a Tire!

“Donuts, is there nothing they can’t do?” – Homer Simpson

Yes, they can’t be an effective car tire replacement. Recently I had a flat right front tire on my car. I say “my car” knowing full well that it’s not officially “my car”. Yet. I’m in the process of buying my friend’s  2000 Toyota Echo.  Miles on this thing you ask? 127,000.

I remember the sales pitch………. eyes now look at the ceiling while hand stroking goatee remembering……….

“This honey of a car can be yours for only $700 down and $200 a month for 48 months.”

“Wow! Where do I sign!”

Needless to say the transaction process didn’t exactly happen that way but it was funnier than the reality.

Anyhoo   Any how back to the tire.

I saw the friggin’ flat tire and promptly proceeded to utter a few epithets that I won’t spell here. Being the good christian boy those choice words never left my mind. They did stay in my heart for awhile but I did calm down. This flat tire was annoying due to the fact I had a very important appointment that was supposed to take place 30 minutes later.

I knew due to traffic and my somewhat diminished physical capibilities that changing a flat tire, getting said flat fixed and then driving about 8 miles during rush hour traffic that this appointment would not be kept.

Yes it was frustrating. Frustrating I tells ya!

But, Misterlevittown just suck it up and put the donut spare on the car and get going to your appointment

Uh, no and shut up your filthy whore mouth!

I apologise for that last sentence but what’s wrong with you Sparky? You should know that donut tires were never intended to run around town. Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not drive 16 miles (round trip) in rush hour traffic.

Doofus.

So yesterday, Wednesday, I put the friggin’ – that’s right I used “friggin’” again – donut on the car and went over to my local National Tire and Battery location and had them fix the tire.

And to top it all off I had a real pleasant surprise. I thought that I had a nail in the tire that worked it’s way all the way thru the tread so I couldn’t see it. I was wrong. It turned out the seal between the hub and actual tire was broken. Hence, air escapes it rubbery prison.

These folks reinstated the seal/wall and the air is imprisoned again. Where’s the pleasant surprise you ask? I wasn’t charged a single dime. I tried to pay because they did work on my tire and I should pay, right? Well, wrong. I said thank you and I shook the technician’s hand.

To me my friends this was a blessing.

Wait a second, maybe driving a car with a donut spare brings out the pity in auto mechanics. I have a feeling that I might have to rethink my position on the lowly donut spare.

Nah, they still suck.

Even in Victory Some Obama Backers are classless Jerks.

President Obama has been trying to drape the cloak of Abraham Lincoln on himself and at the same time some of his supporters try to rip it off. Where Lincoln at his second Inauguration talked about healing the wounds of civil war here on this historic day in the 21st century some supporters of the new President would like to reopen current but healing wounds.

They booed at the sight of President Bush. They chanted derisively at him. It’s a blessing that the booing and chanting were not audible at the Capital Building. These people are lacking in dignity, honor and most of all decency.

President Lincoln talked about at his second  inauguration of healing of the nation. He said “With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan – to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.” Granted we do not have a military civil war going on but it would have been nice if the supporters of President Barack Obama tried to pay some service to what the 16th President had to say.

It would have been the decent thing to do. I guess I was asking too much. Sad just so very sad.

Barack Obama is Not Jesus the Christ!!

Let me repeat that: Barack Obama is not Jesus the Christ!!! He wasn’t. He isn’t. He will never be. For the better part of the last two years the Main Stream Media has supported this man as being the greatest thing since Creation.

Anyone on this planet who tries to deny this fact is …..well….delusional and screwed up as well. They’re also missing a full deck to play with as well.

I get the fact that he’s the first black man to be elected President of the United States. I understand this aspect of this election cycle. I truly do. Forget what he proposes to do while in office. Put all that aside for a moment. Are we as a nation just supposed to celebrate his election because he’s black? Don’t look at his qualifications just his skin color? Is this what Martin Luther King had in mind with his historic speech in 1963? I don’t think so.

Before anyone starts to accuse me of being some sort of racist let me tell you of two incidents in my life. The first was during the hostage crisis during the Carter Administration. I was in a local convenience store here in Levittown, Pa. when I was accosted by several punks who thought I looked “Iranian”. They intended to attack me. They taunted me. When I replied with my average everyday American accent they backed off and left the store. The clerk was ready to back me up.

The second event was on Sept. 12th, 2001.

I was riding in an elevator going to my office in the Richard J. Hughes Justice Complex in Trenton, NJ when a man entered the elevator and stood next to me. I could see from the corner of my eye that he was just glaring at me. I immediately knew what was going through his mind.

He looked at me like I was part of the plot that flew those hijacked planes on that horrible day. I fervently hoped that the real reason he was glaring was that maybe he just had a fight with his wife or maybe he just had a fender bender in the parking lot. Well, if either of those scenarios were accurate then why would he look at me with such hatred? The next day I found out that a friend of mine of over 20 years was in the back of the elevator and saw the whole thing. He thought as well that the guy next to me thought I was a terrorist.

I know that I’ve only described two of the several events in my life that took an decidedly uncomfortable racial turn but because of this I’ve developed a sensitivity to these things. A sensitivity that I pay attention to.

I understand the idea of massive press coverage of the inauguration and the activities before hand but what passes for coverage is really a smothering mask connected to a tank of nitrous oxide.

“C’mon, breathe deeply. Don’t think about the most expensive inauguration in history. Let’s spend 45 million dollars but please forget that the democrats complained 4 years ago about that awful George Bush spending 40 million dollars in such a wasteful way.”

All Inauguration costs 2005: George W. Bush – $157 million.

All Inauguration costs 2009: Barack H. Obama – $170 million.

The Left 2005: How dare Bush spend that kind of money with a budget deficit of $418 billion.

The Left 2009: Spend, Baby, Spend.

Hypocrisy, plain and simple.

The less intellige….ahem… thinking people who voted for Obama think that the federal government is now going to be making car and mortgage payments for them. I heard and saw this myself. This is tragic for anyone to think that this is what it means to have Obama as president.

The absolute gushing by Obama supporters is appalling. I know of many people of faith who voted for this man even though he has never met an abortion he didn’t support. My question to the people of faith who voted for Obama: what do you say to the dead babies? Oh, I’m sorry am I supposed to call them “unviable tissue masses”?

In a way the rapturous feelings engulfing so many people remind me of Neville Chamberlain.

Excuse me but Neville Chamberlain?

Yes, Neville Chamberlain.

Good ol’ Neville flew back from a meeting with Adolf Hitler with a paper signed by the German dictator and he proclaimed “we have peace in our time”. The british  populace cheered. For in September 1938 many people were fooled by the idea that “we have peace in our time”. The people of Czechoslovakia weren’t fooled. After losing the Sudetenland to Germany in September 1938 the Czech people lost the rest of their country in March 1939 when German troops rolled onto their land.

So many people think that now that the LORD GOD MESSIAH Obama is in the Oval Office that not only will we have peace in our time but all the people who wish us ill around the world will now want to sing around the campfire with us. It just doesn’t work that way.

For people of faith know that we live in a fallen world. Which returns me to my original point. There is a famous poem that I first heard more than 20 years ago. It talks about a single solitary life. There cannot and will not ever be a comparable poem written about Barack Obama no matter how much his acolytes want it.

He will never have the impact of Jesus.

Here is a man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another obscure village. He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty, and then for three years He was an itinerant preacher. He never wrote a book. He never held an office.
 

He never owned a home. He never set foot inside a big city. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place where He was born. He had no credentials but Himself.

While still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against Him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial. He was nailed upon a cross between two thieves.

His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth while He was dying — and that was His coat. When He was dead, He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen wide centuries have come and gone and today He is the centerpiece of the human race and the leader of progress. I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that ever were built, and all the parliaments that ever sat, and all the kings that ever reigned, put together have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as that One Solitary Life.

John McCain slept here. I’m serious.

To sleep, perchance to dream……….

Last night was a night like most nights in October. It was dark. To top it off it seems to get dark every single day of the year. Fascinating. It was periodically raining. The best part of this particular October evening was that The Philadelphia Phillies were playing the Tampa Bay Rays in Game 5 of the 2008 World Series. If things go right the Phils win the World Series in Philadelphia 4 games to 1. The crowd would go appropriately berserk and all would be right with the world. If you discount any and all world problems that is.

I guess it really wasn’t like most October nights when I think about it because the Phillies don’t play in the Fall Classic every October. At least since 1993 anyway. It started to rain in the 2nd inning (I think) and the conditions down at Citizen’s Bank Ballpark got progressively worse. By the 6th inning it was decided to suspend the game until weather conditions permitted it’s resumption. 

That decision itself was historic. Suspending a game of the World Series has never happened before.

But this is only the beginning of this story.

During the commercial breaks during the game I channel surfed all over the Verizon Fios TV line-up. I saw all sorts of McCain and Obama political ads. Like everyone else in the US I’ve seen hundreds of political ads this year. I AM SICK TO DEATH OF POLITICAL ADS.

The game was eventually suspended and I ended up watching TV until 2AM. Not exactly the brightest thing I’ve ever done but hopefully the world will survive me missing my beauty sleep. Eventually I fell asleep and then I’m smacked right upside my REM sleep.

In that usual gauzy, nebulous, is-this-really-happening-or-not sort of way I’m aware of John McCain and assorted aides are in my living room. There are all sorts of people coming and going. A veritable hubbub of activity. I’m suddenly aware that I’m in the process of disconnecting all sorts of TV monitors and other  pieces of electronic equipment.

After awhile Senator McCain disrobes down to his underwear to sleep on my couch. Suddenly I realize that it’s the evening of November 4th, 2008. Election Day! Election returns have come in. The outcome is known to everybody in the apartment except me. In my dream I realize that I’ve been so busy with the McCain campaign being headquartered in my apartment I never went out to vote. 

I forgot to vote for the Senator from Arizona? How could this happen?

John McCain settles down on my couch to get some sleep. Various aides leave my apartment. I feel so badly that I forgot to vote I have to apologise to the man.

“Senator McCain, I’m sorry but I totally forgot to vote for you and the Artic Barracuda today.”

“That’s all right Mister Levittown. I’ll forgive you some day.” He smiled tiredly as he turned toward the back of the couch to close his eyes.

I had to know: “Did we win?”

He turned back towards me and replied as he smiled “yes, we did.”

When I woke up the first thing that came to my mind was “where did that come from”.

Sometimes it really is odd being Mister Levittown. If nothing else my residence is now a historic land mark. After all John McCain slept here.

A Philly Eagle fan asks a question.

With absolutely no disrespect to good ol’ Bill Shakespeare and his existential question of “to be or not to be?” but I have to say to hell with that rather small notion. I have something a whole lot bigger than that to be concerned about.

Do I wear the Dallas Cowboys cap gift or not?

Here I am Mister Levittown being a Philadelphia Eagle fan since 1970 and my brother who art in Texas, Mister Dallas be thy name, has sent me a rather horrifying gift. A little history behind all this mischigoss.

No offense to any yiddish fluent people intended by the use of that term. I hope I’m using that term correctly as well as using proper spelling.

As I said before I’ve been a Eagle fan since 1970. Those were the days of Charle Young, Po James, Pete Liske, Roman Gabriel and a whole lot of other players. Some of them memorable and some of them not. 1972 with the lousy 2-12 record to the Super Bowl at the end of the 1980 season and all the years since you could and can paint me as a fan.

Can I tell you everything there is to know about wide receiver Harold Jackson? Doubtful. How about Ron Jaworski? Probably not. Harold Carmichael? Well, he was tall and it killed me seeing him play for the Cowboys at the end of his career.

But, I can tell you about the single greatest hit I ever saw at a game I attended. October 1980 – Eagles and the Chicago Bears were playing at the Vet down in South Philly. It….was….cold. Extremely cold. People were hanging out in the restrooms drinking hot chocolate to escape the ridiculously cold winds. Forget about urine particles floating around it was friggin’ cold. Watch the game in the stands for awhile then run to the restroom for some relief from the wind.

Anyway, back to the hit. A friend of mine and myself got tickets right at midfield in the 700 level at the Vet. That’s nosebleed height folks. Jaworski and the offense were in the middle of a drive at midfield when this absolutely brutal hit occurred. Ron Jaworski faded back in the pocket to pass. Defensive end Mike Hartenstine of the Bears came thru the left side of the Eagle offensive line and slammed Ron Jaworski right between the shoulder blades.

Jaworski’s head whiplashed back then went forward as the momentum of the hit drove him forward then down to the artificial turf that covered the concrete that was the floor at the Vet. Everyone who had eyes in that stadium could see that Ron Jaworski was going to get a ticket to unconsciousness at the end of this particular play. Helen Keller and Stevie Wonder could see what was about to happen.

Everybody except Ron Jaworski. And it had the distiction of being an absolutely clean hit. Totally violent. Totally controlled.

But, I digress.

Here I am a completely dyed in the wool Philadelphia Eagle fan with TWO Cowboy garments. Almost two years ago I visited Mister Texas and our sister Miss Richardson, Texas and she gave me a Cowboy sweatshirt. In her defense she doesn’t know a thing about football and she knows less about pro football rivalries.

What do I do? What do I do?

I certainly can’t wear these things while I’m watching the “Iggles” with the guys. Because if I did I would end up as road pizza somewhere with tire tracks all over me that would match their various cars. Eagle fans absolutely HATE the Dallas Cowboys. Hate, I tells ya’!!! There is no conversation. There is no diplomacy. WE HATE THE COWBOYS.

Nothing personal just business.

A few days ago when I was talking to Mister Texas he informed me that he had sent a Cowboy cap as a gift. I thought he was kidding. He was laughing at the prospect of my discomfort. The nerve of this punk. I recieved it yesterday.

I can’t wear these things in public because I would be excommunicated from The Eagle Nation. Hey, maybe I could wear these garments in Cognito.

That’s it. My God, I’m brilliant.

It’s good to be Mister Levittown. And you thought the McCain – Obama dustup was important. I don’t think so.