By Mark David Blum
It is time for the MarkBlum Rat Tales ’07© “busted” report. Like our local snoozepaper, the following folks and entities got “busted” for their behaviors at the Fair. No arrests have been made and none are necessary. Public shaming is the best punishment.
Bust #1: Two law enforcement officials who are driving vehicles with license plates with versions of, “IH8RTARDS”. The pictures prove their license plates reference to “9er”. The law and police jargon in New York have their origins in Section 9.41 of the Mental Health Law. This section allows police to take a person into custody for psychiatric evaluation if the officer determines the person presents a threat to themselves or others. From there, police have come to commonly refer to any idiot or non police officer as a “941”. As with all language, the offensive insult has been shortened to ‘Niner’. How our DMV and police supervisors and their civilian employers allow these vehicles to be registered with plates that say ‘9RSLAYER’ and ‘9ERSAVER’ is most befuddling. Imagine me with plates that said ‘COPKILLAH’. At least now I understand why the State Police Exhibit show opens with the theme song to “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.”
Bust #2: Employee of Longs … those red rubber ball throwing game booths. While I was enjoying the heart pounding, hot licking, geetar stick flipping sounds of Emerald City at the Coliseum Bar, banging my head with the lead singer’s mix of Axil Rose and Joey Ramone, my backpack sat on a bar table in my direct line of sight. I was standing back a ways from the table resting my back against a pole but could watch the band while eyeing my bag. Emerging from the crowd was a guy with a Long’s Tshirt on and who every time I checked, had his eyes upon my backpack and not the band. (Nice to be able to hide behind sunglasses. Nobody knows what you are monitoring). Then I moved over and stood between him and the backpack and he left the scene. Ten minutes later, out of the corner of my eye, I see him pretending to be on a cell phone (as IF with that music) and coming at my bag quickly. Again, I stepped out in front of him and cut him off. By the time I turned around he was gone. Notifying security, I let the issue go and got into the joy of the music. I vowed, however, that I would find the SOB. It took 2 days, but I finally did. I walked right up to his ass at his job, had words, I told him my shirt is real and I am a local and he fucked with the wrong person. As I then started walking off, he suddenly found his remaining testicle and shouted, “Are You Calling Me a Thief?” To which I responded even louder, “No Sir, I am not. I am calling you out for trying to be a thief but being too fucking incompetent and stupid to do it right”, and then meandered off feeling full of myself.
Bust #3: The 95X Mullet count. When I first saw this sign posted on Day 1 of the Fair in front the 95X booth (across from Davoli’s Trackside – home of the frozen margarita), it was a hilarious marketing concept to those who are the station’s supposed demographic. (What they call classic, are what we call ‘oldies’). That notwithstanding, I was so in love with the Mullet Count, that I made it a daily task to snap a picture and get the count. (296 as of Tuesday afternoon). (95X is also supplying the background music at the Coliseum stage between live bands and they are indeed, turning it up a notch). Unfortunately, the station selected folks to work at the Fair who are not Fair folks. By the fourth day, the weariness and attitude set in. By last night, even approaching the booth seemed to be a major inconvenience as they suffered in the heat trying to talk to their friends. They are burnt out and need to be replaced. The Mullet Count sign is no longer out front and visible. Too bad.
Bust #4: Me. I am busted because I found a secret entrance into the backstage area of the Grand Stands. Last night, I got so close to the music and stage, I was able to feel the heat of the pyrotechnics and the beat of the drummer’s feet. Though I had no idea what I was listening to or who was the particular band, the accomplishment of locating this special entranceway makes me guilty of learning yet another Fair secret.
Bust #Last: James E. Strates, Sr. As often as I have seen this great man throughout the course of the Fair, not once have I seen him without a tie. But on one lucky pass; there he was in his cool slacks, button down shirt but it was opened at the collar. Alas, but if he had only taken me seriously. We could have made such wonderful music together.
