A Neighborhood Photo Essay…

I live in a rather dismal sort of neighborhood in some ways. The majority of the people are nice enough, but it’s the sort of neighborhood where the police actually TOLD me not to ask my neighbors to turn their stereo down. “We can’t guarantee your safety,” they said. “To be honest, we don’t go into your part of town unless we have backup.”

As an example of the kindness evident in my part of town, here’s the local church. No sooner had they built this shining new example of Christianity, then they put up a sign keeping people out.

I’m not saying that the City of Sioux City has abandoned our neighborhood, but I’ve seen a LOT of businesses pack up and leave in the past few years. Seems this area isn’t conducive to business.

If anyone out there has read my blog for long, they’ve undoubtedly heard my rants about grocery stores. The Hy-Vee chain bought out locally owned Boulevard Foods a few miles up the road, tore it down, and built a mega-store on that site. Then they closed down the “old” Hy-Vee that was in my neighborhood (which is where the poor and elderly shopped, by the way, as the store was surrounded by low-income apartments), forcing shoppers to either drive or rent cabs to get to their store instead of walking. A few months after the new Hy-Vee opened, our OTHER local grocery store went out of business as well. So now there are NO grocery stores within walking distance of the poorest section of town, which is exactly where people NEED a store within walking distance.

Back in my neighborhood again, the economic blight shows in myriad ways. From what I can tell, the vast majority of the people in the neighborhood are “working poor.” I’m sure there are a good number of people that are on government assistance, but there are also a good number of people that work double shifts at the packing plant, too.

These photos are all taken from the car, or the sidewalk when I was walking to work, over the last few years. In other words, I wasn’t poking into people’s back yards or anything – this is what the world sees when they visit Sioux City.

When I bought my house, there was a tree-lined babbling brook running behind the houses across the street from us. The city came in and tore down all the trees (which really gave us an ugly view of one of the busiest streets in town) and widened the creek. Supposedly they will landscape the area again when they’re done, and our flood insurance will go down. I’m not one to stand in the way of progress, but I sure do miss the trees! And last I heard it’ll still be five to ten years before FEMA will reassess our neighborhood to see if it’s still a flood zone or not.

One of the major blights in my section of town is grafitti. The company I work for has been hit six or eight times in the last year or two alone – and some of the places shown below have had it worse. Not only does grafitti cause problems with gangs, it surely depresses the people who live in the neighborhood, it costs the owners plenty of money to repair (and by city code they MUST cover the grafitti in a certain number of days), and I’m sure it’s driven some businesses out of the area. They recently caught a couple guys red-handed. One of them is facing some serious fines and penalties. I thought about sending a letter to the judge asking him if I could come over and spank the lad myself before they sent him off to jail…

With all that said, I have to admit that things in our particular little corner of the neighborhood have improved DRAMATICALLY since our neighbors moved away. The elderly Vietnamese couple across the street have invited their son and daughter-in-law and little granddaughter to live with them again, the ladies next to them come out and shovel everyone’s sidewalks when it snows, people aren’t afraid to walk on West 16th Street any more.

But people are still afraid to walk on Silver Street. And Center Street.

While things are easier for the few houses around us, the situation in the neighborhood overall has NOT improved, and has actually been declining for the past seven years. Numerous calls to the police and to the city government were ignored for years (unless shots are fired the police don’t come around much). The city council is now showing slight signs of awareness, but they seem intent on tearing things down rather than building the neighborhood up. Instead of rebuilding old houses and renting them to low-income families, the city simply tears the old houses down and lets the vacant lots sit there, weed-infested. In some cases that makes sense, but most of the time I really wish more of an effort were put into rebuilding…

From what I hear, most of the people around here are in the same prediciment we’re in, economically speaking. An example is a buddy of mine at work. They couldn’t afford a house in the city on their combined incomes, so they bought a place some 25 miles out of town and commute. But now that gas has gotten so expensive, the poor guy often has to pay for gas with his credit card, which simply puts him farther in the hole. “But if I don’t buy gas,” he told me, “I can’t go to work to get the money to pay the credit card bills…”

It’s a tricky cycle, and I’ve seen our local government, our state government, and most of all our federal government simply ignore the problem. And that makes me sad. It’s time for a change.

To answer your questions…

I’ve had a few commentors ask questions in the past few posts. Herein lie the answers:

Birdy questioned if I wrote an entire post in one day. Yes. You see, I write a lot and edit precious little. Quantity over quality… While Birdy’s blog is the essence of distilled thought, prose pared to perfect poetry, a philosopher’s dream, I on the other hand just type really, really fast. I figger if I get enough words on the page, a few of ’em gotta make sense…

Ellie asked if Artie Lange is the very same Artie Lange that worked for the Howard Stern show. Truth be told, I dunno, Ellie. You can check out Artie’s blog, but about all you’ll learn about the elusive Artie is that he seems to be fairly intelligent and occasionally dresses up like cupid. He just doesn’t say much about himself. I kinda wish I knew more about him, too.

Five years already

On the back of my vest I have a few patches. The big one that everyone notices is the American Legion patch that identifies me as a member of the Northwest Iowa Chapter of the American Legion Riders. I also have a few other patches – one with my “HippieBoy” moniker, my VROC number, one for the Patriot Guard, the American flag, and a map of the United States showing the states I’ve ridden in. But the very first patch I bought says:

I never knew cousin Caleb well enough. He grew up in Spain and I grew up in Iowa. He was in the Air Force in Turkey, I was in the Army Guard in Iowa. He moved to Phoenix, I stayed in Iowa… We always got along well, and we both figured we’d have time later in life to hang out together. We both respected the military, we both rode motorcycles, and we both played bass. I think of him often. His life was short, but well lived.

In case you were wondering…

…this is where I’ve been lately.

Saturday was my birthday! Yay for me. First we went to the American Legion in my hometown, LeMars, for their monthly Steak Fry. I highly recommend it! Ten bucks for a big ol‘ steak, potato, salad bar, toast… And good conversation with good people!

Then off to the Chesterfield to see the band that was playing that night – Adam Douglas and the Deacons. Great band! Go see ’em!

Sunday it was off to the family farm to celebrate all the February birthdays. There must be something special about May, ’cause we have a LOT of February birthdays. Hmmm… Here’s a nifty photo of our chocolate-covered Goddaughter.

…And a pretty picture of said Goddaughter sitting in an old wooden chair.

Here’s me sitting in the same chair 38 years ago.

Monday afternoon after work I went to the funeral home to stand with some friends to honor a veteran. Tuesday morning we went back to stand at the church.

And yes, it was cold. But the American Legion Riders and Patriot Guard Riders were there anyway. It’s the right thing to do.

A Saner Policy

People struggle with morality. You know, all it really boils down to is “do what’s right.”

Most of the time, when I’m confronted with a dilemma, the choices are pretty clear. At work I see a typo on a plate headed for the pressroom. Each plate costs time and money to make, enough so that the bosses get kind of upset when we make a bad plate. My choices are clear – do I pretend I didn’t see the typo? The customer will probably never notice anyway… Or do I risk the boss’ ire and take half an hour to fix the typo and remake the plate?

I almost always remake the plate. I know that if I were the customer, I’d appreciate knowing someone was watching out for me. And if my boss fires me for that, well, I probably don’t want to work for that kind of boss anyway.

I realize that things aren’t always that simple, but surprisingly often they are. All you have to do is look at it from the other guy’s point of view. Or ask yourself what your grandmother would want you to do. Do you return that wallet you found in the street? Of course. Do you help your neighbor? Sure!

Why can’t our politicians do this?

Seems we can’t see the forest for the trees. We’re so hung up in procedure and laws and rules and regulations that we forget the spirit of those procedures. The spirit of the tax code in the US is to take a certain percentage of our individual incomes and use it for the good of the people. That way we don’t each have to finance our own private sewers and our own private armies. So why is it so complicated? Well, because some people think they don’t need to pay as much as other people, because of their circumstances. “Well of course I can’t pay all the taxes I’m supposed to pay, I’m saving for retirement. That money shouldn’t count!” or “I have kids,” or “I have to pay for college.”

So now taxes are a game. A person would be whacked in the head if he didn’t take advantage of the deductions offered, so now it’s a matter of finding all the deductions you can.

A few years ago Dagmar and I had to pay in at the end of the year; we hadn’t had enough taken out of our paychecks each week, so we owed a couple thousand dollars. I mentioned this to a millionaire I know. “You mean you have to pay taxes?” he asked. “You need a different accountant. I didn’t pay anything in last year at all and I still got $25,000 back.” He didn’t understand it when I told him that we didn’t earn enough money to get any deductions so we had to pay more. The system is tilted against people like us.

As a culture we’ve forgotten the spirit of the law. Politicians argue back and forth about tax loopholes and who is exempt from what… They’re squabbling over details that can only hurt people at the lower end of the economic spectrum. What needs to be done is a return to the spirit of the law. Everyone pays a little so everyone can enjoy the same protections and benefits.

This concept applies to more than just the lousy tax code. Look at our system of lobbying. People get paid to hang around and try to influence our politicians, buying them dinners, taking them on trips… Sure it’s legal, but what’s the spirit of the law? On paper, lobbyists are allowed to peddle their influence in order to ensure that “America’s voice is heard.” But can’t the spirit of that particular law be better served if lobbyists were banned so that our politicians could actually pay attention to us average citizens?

We need a saner policy. We need simpler morality. We need to get back to the spirit of things.

This sucks when you own a motorcycle…

I’m not complaining, mind you – it’s been a mild winter for the most part. But when the high is one degree, it seems ludicrous to even think about motorcycles.

But that’s all I can think about! The monthly American Legion Riders meeting has been cancelled (it was supposed to be this coming Sunday), so I’m not gonna be able to hook up with my dirty nasty biker buddies to get my monthly fix of discussing the relative merits of Bridgestone vs. Metzler tires. (Go with the Metzlers.) For Christmas my wife and I bought each other a brand spanky new seat for our motorcycle (a Mustang Wide Studded, if you must know) so we’ll be more comfortable on longer rides, and I also got some engine guards and matching leather studded engine guard chaps for my birthday. My bike’s in storage at the bike shop, so I haven’t even SEEN all this new stuff yet. I’m just itchin’.

In the past year I’ve finally got some good cold-weather gear (notably some good leather gauntlet gloves that come over my coat sleeves, and a switch from contacts to glasses), which has effectively extended the riding season from May-September to March-November — provided there’s no slop on the roads. Now I just gotta wait for March. (Spring riding makes me nervous, though. Around these parts they put a LOT of sand and salt on the streets in the winter. When the snow melts, we’re stuck with patches of sand at almost every intersection. I’d bet a good majority of all motorcycle accidents in between March and June are a result of skidding on sand.)

I Have Dreams

I’m hoping to do an Iron Butt ride this summer (long-distance motorcycling). I hope to do this every summer. It’s never happened yet. To do an Iron Butt, you need to choose your ride (there are different classifications – a Saddlesore is 1,000 miles in less than 24 hours, a Bunburner is 1,500 miles in 36 hours, a 50CC is from coast to coast in less than 50 hours, Ultimate Coast to Coast is from Key West to Deadhorse, Alaska in less than 30 days, etc.), find some witnesses to see you leave, document your trip with gas station receipts and photos, then hope the committee approves you to wear the Iron Butt patch on your vest. I wanna do the simple Saddlesore.

I figger from Sioux City to Fargo to Minneapolis to Des Moines to Omaha to Sioux City is right at 1,006 miles, all interstate… Not much time spent riding into the sun, either, except for the leg from Des Moines to I-29 north of Omaha. I figure if I do it at the end of June the weather should be fairly warm, and daylight will last longer. Since it’s interstate, it can probably be done in 14 or 15 hours if you do it on a weekday when traffic’s light, but I’d aim for 18, just ’cause I like to take a break every hour. Then if I wake up the next morning and go to St. Joseph, Missouri and back I might even qualify for the Bun Burner!

Most people who do this ride touring bikes, not cruisers like mine, so it’ll be a bit of a challenge. (Many of them attach external fuel tanks on their bikes so they don’t have to stop every 150 miles for gas. Myself, I need to stop about once an hour to stretch my legs. They’ll need to be short stops!) Cruisers are comfy bikes indeed, but the BMW’s and Goldwings are truly made for distance riding. (A quick look at the stats shows that 6,650 Harleys have completed the task, followed closely by Honda Goldwings at 5,917 and BMW’s at 4878. Kawasakis are fourth at 1,472. So, it’s easy to tell that Goldwings and BMW’s are probably the best distance bikes. Harleys are first on the list simply because they outnumber other bikes on the road by a considerable margin (I think), so proportionally more Harley owners give the Iron Butt a shot. There’s a BIG drop off from 4,878 BMW’s to third place 1,491 Yamahas.)

Dagmar’s not happy about any of this, though. She worries.

A Day to be Reckoned With

Valentine’s Day. Oh yay. I’m supposed to be nice to my wife ONE DAY A YEAR? Wow… What have I been doing the other 364 days? If someone needs to tell me to treat my wife nice, I have problems. Dagmar feels the same way. We don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day because we love each other all year long.

The problem is that she’s sitting at work watching all her co-workers get flowers, and all she got was a stupid little card I made her. As intelligent and strong as my wife is, I can’t blame her for feeling a little overlooked. But still I refuse to buy her flowers on Valentine’s Day. It’s too expected. I just can’t do it.

If I break down and buy her something on Valentine’s Day it implies that I only value her on that one day. I can’t do that. I just can’t. I hope she understands.

But, on the bright side of a cold February 14, happy birthday, Pops! I hope your day is going well!

Oh! Speaking of which…

It’s my birthday Saturday. (Happy Birthday To Me! Happy Birthday To Me!) The tentative plan, if anyone wants to join in the festivities, is to head to hometown LeMars whereupon we shall feast upon steaks at the Legion Club’s monthly steak fry ($10 a person, serving from 5 to 7 p.m. if I remember right) and hang around in the Legion’s bar chatting and socializing for a while afterwards. We plan to eventually make our way back to Sioux City to catch a band play later than night, either at the Chesterfield or at Rhonda’s, most likely, depending on who’s playing. (Looks like Adam Douglas and the Deacons are at the Chesterfield Saturday night. That should be good! Just noticed that one of my favorite bands, the Chris Duarte Group, is playing there on Friday. That kinda sucks – finances force me to make a choice, and I’m not gonna skip my own birthday. Oh well… I don’t think bassist John Jordan plays with Duarte any more anyway, and for me he was two-thirds the fun of watching the band.)

Feel free to come and hang out with us! We’re plannin’ to have fun!

How interesting…

I got really bored today and Googled my own blog, just to see what would pop up. Oddly enough, I got a link to a graphic designer/photographer type guy named Christian Radloff in German. Sprechts du Deutsch? Click here.

For all my friends who moved south:

Not a lot of snow, but BOY is it cold! See what you’re missing?

It makes me sad.

The only thing worse than burning a vacation day in the middle of winter because you were ill is dipping into your vacation fund to pay for everyday activities.

But at least I have a vacation fund. Eighty bucks. Thankfully we like to camp…

Sioux City has rezoned part of the major road (Hamilton Boulevard) that runs within a block of our house. It seems like only hours passed between the city council (or whomever) signing off on the rezoning measure before houses were torn down. You can click on the photo to see a larger version. There are six or eight more houses scheduled for demolition.

It makes me happy.

We’re on a diet. Well… she’s on a diet, I just eat more lettuce than usual. Actually we’ve both been eating pretty healthy food lately, and I’m kinda liking it. If I’m losing any weight though, it’s very slow. Dagmar’s doing wonderfully, however! I’m proud of her!

It makes me nervous.

I’m not quitting my day job or anything, but I’ve decided to start freelancing a bit. You can learn more HERE. So if you know of anyone that needs anything designed or written or photographed, lemme know…

It makes me tired.

Here are some photos of work. Seems like it’s all I do in the winter; sit at home waiting to go to work so I can wait to go home again. I miss my motorcycle.

A Pictorial Ode to Steakbellie…

Pfffft… And HE’S the boss?

So here I sit at work, counting my woes, staring gloomily at my computer screen, rotting away in general, when in walks a police officer, complete with uniform, badge and unamused scowl. He scowled at me, grimaced at my buddy Drew, and disappeared into the boss’ office.

Drew looked over at me, shrugged, and went back to work. I continued with my morose tapping at the keyboard, running through the last few weeks in my head, just to make sure I hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about. Nah… I lead a pretty good life. No reason to run from the police. (Isn’t that a sign of aging?)

After ten minutes or so, Mr. Officer comes back out, growls at Drew, snarls at me, and heads up the stairs to the “real world.” The boss comes out of his office.

“I can’t believe I have to pay for that!” he said. Drew and I both blinked ignorantly at him. “Huh?” asked Drew. “What?” sez I.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” The boss settles in to tell the tale. “Someone stole the truck.”

“You mean the beater that used to be parked beside the building?” I asked.

“Yeah, that one. My truck. I left it here in case anyone needed to use it. And my neighbors didn’t want it parked in front of my house any more. Anyway, someone stole it three weeks ago, and I just noticed this morning.”

“The truck’s been gone THREE WEEKS and you just now notice?” I ask. “How can you not notice?”

“Well, I thought one of the delivery guys had it or something,” he continued, “I just didn’t notice that it was gone. Anyway, so I call the cops, and they tell me someone ran it into a tree January 21st and just left the truck there, so the city towed it.” Drew and I nodded. The boss continued. “Damned truck is only worth a hundred bucks, but they gave ME a bill for two-hundred and seventy dollars. I gotta pay for the tow truck myself!”

At this point I quit stifling my giggles and started laughing outright.

“It’s not funny,” said the boss. “They want to charge me seven bucks a day storage, too!” He shook his head and wandered off. “I guess this is what we get for having the print shop in the ‘hood,” he mumbled on his way up the stairs.

I live just a few blocks away… I’ve sat in my car and watched a teenage gang-banger wannabe steal the doorknocker right off my door. Stole my doorknocker! My wife, bless her heart, ran the kid down and got it back. I would have chased the kid myself, but I was too busy trying to get the drunk out of our yard. I’ve watched drunk thugs in the street carefully aim a roman candle and shoot it into my garage, neatly banking it off the back window of my wife’s car. (I came unglued that time – my motorcycle was in the garage at the time.) I’ve had a police officer tell me with a straight face that they don’t come into my part of town after dark without a partner in the car.

Yes, Sioux City has a ‘hood. I think it’s kinda funny that my rich boss just now noticed… The rest of us have to live with that kind of stuff daily. The sad part is that it ain’t cheap to live in the ‘hood – if it’s not stolen or spray-painted, it’s egged or scratched.

Doh!

Well, so much for the NFC pulling a rabbit out of it’s… hat. I stole a photo off the Internet that pretty much explains how the Chicago Bears lost to the Indianapolis Colts in the Super Bowl yesterday. That would be a picture of Bears quarterback Rex Grossman fumbling the ball. Ah well…

It was a good game, all told. They always hold the Super Bowl in domes or somewhere in the tropics so the rich and famous people who actually GO to the Super Bowl won’t be bothered by the weather. Personally, I’ve always thought the Super Bowl should be held in a neutral location, preferably in an outdoor stadium somewhere in Alaska. (It’s always more fun to watch football when they’re trudging through mud and snow and ice. That’s the only time I ever get to see 22 millionaires suffering at the same time, and I sort of enjoy that… And I think the NFL should realize that approximately 1.3 trillion football fans want to see the game played outdoors as they’re watching it on TV anyway, as opposed to the 50,000 people who can actually attend the game and want to sit in a warm sunny spot.) So I really enjoyed the fact that it was raining cats and dogs in southern Florida during the game, making the field muddy and the ball slippery…

The game was enjoyable for me this year as both coaches are classy people. I hope this is a trend! Both Lovie Smith and his friend and former mentor Tony Dungy are known for keeping their cool, teaching players rather than berating them, and leading by example rather than by the whip. Quality will rise to the top, and it was enjoyable to see these two in the biggest game of the year.

The first three quarters were great! Lots of turnovers, much excitement… But then Grossman started falling apart – more aparter than usual, actually (he’s never been accused of being a “together” kind of quarterback). I was hoping for the underdog Bears to win, but alas and alackaday, it wasn’t to be. The Colts emerged victorious, and that’s fine with me.

Concentration

There’s not much going on at work lately, so I’ve been sitting at my desk for the past few weeks trying vainly to look busy so no one will hand me a broom or (worse) send me home without pay… This is hard to do ’cause the owners offices are right next to mine. Both bosses lurk past me every three or four minutes. They lurk a lot. They lurk in corners, they lurk in the pressroom, they lurk over my shoulder… So I keep a “fake” postcard design as a panic button; when the bosses walk by I pull that screen up and pretend to be working on it. In the times they’re not lurking at me, I’m perusing the Internet or (as today) blogging.

This is all fine and dandy, but it makes it hard to concentrate on writing anything meaningful or even passably funny – I can get about a third of a sentence done at a time. (Now you know why my posts have been so boring lately.)

So for the past week or two, I’ve sat here for eight hours a day, trying to get my 40 hours in ’cause who can afford a short check, staring at a computer, flicking manically from web site to web site, looking over my shoulder, trying to keep a consistent line of thought going, looking over my shoulder, pretending to work… It’s driving me barking mad! I’d much rather be busy. (And trust me, I’ve filed everything I can think of to file, I’ve cleaned my desk three times… I’ve fiddled. I’m beyond fiddling.)

I wish I could be spending this time productively – I’ve completely dropped my dream of learning Esperanto this winter, I could be writing a nice book or something, I have lots of photos to sort through at home…

Oh well.

Liveblogging, Sort of…

It’s now 5:37 in the morning. I just woke up, exactly seven minutes ago – half an hour late. Wing Bowl 15 started half an hour ago… 20,000 people have bought tickets to go to Wachovia Stadium in Philadelphia for a three-hour long spectacle, all based around watching a bunch of people eat chicken wings for half an hour in hopes of winning a car.

I’m tuned in to one of the Philadelphia radio stations, WIP610. They’re already introducing the contestants (they just introduced The Blind Beast, a blind contestant). I’m hoping they haven’t already introduced my blog-buddy Steakbellie, part of the Philly contingent (see photo). The theme this year is “Philly vs. the World.” They’re putting Philadelphia’s best competitive eaters against five professional eaters chosen by the IFOCE – International Federation of Competitive Eaters. Steakbellie’s ranked 38th in the world, and is given 7 to 1 odds to win this thing.Oddly enough, they start this thing at midnight for some reason. Steakbellie has rented a school bus for his friends; they’re all gonna pile into the bus, drink a bunch of beer, then head to the Wachovia Center to watch the Wingettes, drink more beer, and watch people eat.

Ooh, they’re introducing Wing Kong now – another Philly guy, I guess. His entourage made a fake boxing ring – they’re carrying it around the arena, throwing beads at the crowd. The announcers are having a ball with this – I guess they keep falling over with the boxing ring…

STEAKBELLIE’S COMING INTO THE STADIUM! I’m so excited! “This is our first really big challenger,” said the announcer. “He’s not a fat guy, but he’s an eater!” The lady’s saying, “He has a man dressed up as cupid, men in kilts, there are bagpipers playing, a ten-foot-high can of beer labelled ‘Whoop Ass’…” The male announcer – “He has a man skipping in front of him dressed as cupid, that ain’t gonna help.” I think they just interviewed the cupid; wish they’d talk to Steakbellie instead. Gah, I wish I could see it! (Maybe radio is better. Hard to tell.)

Well, they’re introducing someone else now. Steakbellie had a huge beer can for his float, this next guy has a big float with a giant toilet, with the guy sitting on it reading a newspaper. I hope he has his pants on. It’s 5:54 a.m.

I’ve been all wrapped up in this for weeks now. I’ve read Steakbellie’s blog for quite some time, and his enthusiasm for this event is so infectious… Well, you just gotta go read his blog. He’s also got a web site where you can see the short film he and his friend shot, as well as a video of the “stunt” he did to qualify for Wing Bowl. (Each Philly contestant had to do a “stunt,” live on the radio. Steakbellie ate a huge hoagie, bag of chips and a cup of lemonade in three and a half minutes.) Here’s a photo of Mr. Bellie.

Commercial’s over – they’re back to the introductions. This guy, The Indian Butcher, ate like a pound of cow tongues for his stunt. The announcers are making a big deal out of his entourage throwing beads at women in the crowd, and how much cow tongues stink.

Next contestant: 290 pounder, The Irish Soul Assassin, odds something like 250 to 1. I guess he’s the Philadelphia Eagles’ line coach. The announcers are dissing him.

It’s now 6:09 a.m. They’re doing a tribute to one of the Wing Bowl commissioners, El Wingador.

As much fun as this is, I’ve gotta go take a shower… This seems to be a good time; they’re gonna be doing introductions for quite a while, it seems. This sounds like so much fun – I wish I were there. Oh well… I’ll be back shortly, happily scrubbed clean and ready to face the day. I think I’ll make myself a plate of wings for breakfast.

6:45 a.m. – I’m back, happily bathed. Sounds like they’re still introducing people… Pennsylvania eater Humble Bob just came into the stadium, with a float of fellow competitor Joey Chestnut on a spit, turning over a fake fire…

Two pounds of meatballs and two pounds of sausage in 12 minutes was 25 to 1 Hank the Tank’s qualifying stunt. He’s being introduced now.

I love the names! Steakbellie always wears a kilt when he performs in honor of his Scottish heritage. (I think I saw another photo of Steakbellie somewhere… Lemme see if I can find it here… Ah, there it is.)

Oh boy, they’re introducing IFOCE’s pro eaters now… #4 ranked 105 pound Sonia the Black Widow, #5 ranked Rich LaFevre, ChipBurger Simpson, #3 ranked eater in the world Patrick Bertoletti, reigning champ and wing eating record holder Joey Chestnut…

It’s 6:53 now. They say all 25 competitors are all lined up and ready to go… So of course there’s a commercial.

Oh drat. I lost my connection. After getting up so early, I hope I don’t miss the main event! Oh wait, it’s back.

7:01 a.m. – they just finished the National Anthem. I woke Dagmar up. She’s gotta hear this… The officials are in place, the eaters are in place… Now they’re talking about whether the contestants can wear headphones or not…

The first round started! Wheee! I can picture all these guys lined up, shoving chicken wings in their gaping maws… The all-time record is 173 wings in half an hour. The crowd just boo’d – they showed Bertoletti and the Black Widow on the big screen. The Locust just got an ovation… The announcers are wondering if Bertoletti and the Black Widow can keep up their pace for half an hour. “Has Bertoletti ever done a thirty-minute competition?”

Damaging Doug and Joey Chestnut just finished their first plate! It’s about two minutes into the competition… Heavy Kevy was just mentioned.

Doctor Slob is on his second plate, as is Obi Wing… Gentleman Jerry “is cleaning his wings beautifully, but he’s going slowly.” They have to eat the wings “clean” or they don’t count. “The Indian Butcher is just a disgrace,” they say, leaving too much gunk on his wings.

7:09 a.m. – They’re talking about the Locust being a “distance eater.” “He’s 63 years old?” asked the announcer. Beast of the Northeast is on his third plate. Commercial. Oh, the tension! I wonder how Steakbellie’s holding up… I haven’t heard his name mentioned yet – he must be eating in the second round. I bet he’s nervous!

They’re back… Halfway through the first round, almost. The Black Widow is leading the group now, with Joey Chestnut in second. Bertoletti is falling behind… They’re predicting Sonia Black Widow will make it to 200 wings. They just gave the two minute warning to the halfway point in the first round. I WISH I COULD SEE THIS!

Oh, I think I understand now – after the first half of the round, the top ten eaters go on to the second half! So the eaters eat for fifteen minutes, then stop. OH! Obi Wing had a “reversal of fortune” – the wings are coming back up… Ach! I guess he kept it down… Gulp.

Halftime. I’m gonna go get some wings. Five little chicky wings for breakfast in honor of the hundreds, nay, thousands of wings eaten at the competition.

The commercial is over. They’re still at halftime… The halftime tabulations:

#10: 73 wings, Dr. Winglove
#9: 75 wings, Joey Chestnut
#8: 77 wings, Curly von Burley
#7: 78 wings, Bulldog
#6: 81 wings, Damaging Doug
#5: 83 wings, Patrick Bertoletti
#4: 84 wings, The Black Widow
#3: 89 wings, U.S. Male
#2: 91 wings, The Beast from the Northeast
#1: 112 wings, Gentleman Jerry

No Steakbellie… I actually teared up. Shucks. Well, I guess I’ll listen to the second half anyway…

They’re talking about how the commissioner disallowed 20 of the Black Widow’s wings, saying she didn’t finish them enough to count. I guess she’s been complaining pretty bad about it. They’re saying that jaw strength is an issue now. “You gotta eat a lot of Tootsie-Rolls to be competitive.”

I’ve lost my enthusiasm… Bertoletti is coming up from behind. Sounds like the amateurs are falling behind now. There’s still five minutes to go. The IFOCE guy is yelling at the pro eaters, telling them to pick up the pace. The Beast of the Northeast is having troubles… I guess he’s a bit green. Dr. Winglove cramped up – he’s on the ground. U.S. Male is still going, as is Gentleman Jerry. Philly vs. the World. One minute to go… Bertoletti is going… Dr. Winglove is “about to blow.” Five seconds… Done! They may disqualify Dr. Winglove for a “reversal of fortune.” If anything comes back up, the contestant is out. Yep, they eliminated him…

Now they’re gonna have a commercial and tabulate the results. They’re talking about a “two minute sprint,” sounds like the top few eaters still have two minutes to go!

My five little breakfast wings are kicking my ulcer in the side.

Okay, the top five eaters get to go on to the “two minute sprint.” Here they are:

#5: 130 wings, U.S. Male
#4: 156 wings, The Black Widow
#3: 157 wings, Patrick Bertoletti
#2: 158 wings, Gentleman Jerry
#1: 166 wings, Joey Chestnut

Wow – Joey Chestnut was 37 wings behind Gentleman Jerry – he made up 45 wings in one round! I don’t think I could eat 45 wings in one day…

The two-minute sprint has started. I’m feeling kinda ill myself after hearing this all morning… This is like seeing a car accident – I don’t want to look, but I can’t help myself.

8:08 a.m. Fifteen seconds to go. 172 is the previous record (held by Joey Chestnut). Wing Bowl 15 is over, and I’m late for work. Another commercial, then the final results. Sounds like Joey Chestnut is gonna win… To be honest, I was kinda pulling for Gentleman Jerry there at the end (no disrespect, Steakbellie).

Okey, the results… (I can’t believe I listened to this all morning.)

#5: 138 wings, U.S. male
#4: 167 wings, Gentleman Jerry (won a car! best Philly eater)
#3: 169 wings, The Black Widow
#2: 170 wings, Patrick Bertoletti
#1: 182 wings (new record), pro Joey Chestnut

The crowd isn’t happy. The pros won… I have to go to work now!