I regularly buy and sell gear as part of my business. I ship a lot of stuff throughout the year and have been through the ringer with all the major carriers. UPS, FedEx, DHL and now the USPS. They all have screwed something or other up to the point where I felt the need to correspond with their customer service divisions.
My latest battle is with the USPS. They have an online site where a person can "click n' ship" from their homes, which is, admittedly, a good thing. Free pickup service and competitive rates. So what's the problem?
I'll tell you. The other day I needed to ship a small package to Germany to a fella that bought a piece of gear of mine online. I signed on to my account and went through all the proper procedures to ship the package.
At the end of their transaction process is a "print label" function. Once you have downloaded the label and print it correctly there is a prompt for "yes, my label printed and you can charge my credit card" and "no, it did not print correctly and do not charge my card". I had to hit "no" several times in order to get the label to print. It finally did and I hit the "yes, charge my card" button.
I got the package off and it is en route to Germany. A day later, as I checked my online account for this particular card, I found out that I had been charged the $69.92 ELEVEN TIMES.
I emailed their customer service people and, well.... read for yourself what happened.
My original email:
To whom:
You charged me several times for one shipment. I had tons of trouble printing the airbill and checked the "no the label didn't print and do not charge my card" box every time.
Please take these charges back IMMEDIATELY!!!!!
Regards,
Frank Blunt
Response #1:
Dear Mr. Blunt,
I have received your inquiry regarding the charges to your account. I ask that you please review your statement and look for the word "Pending" following the amount. This would mean that these transactions have not yet completed, the amount was only "blocked" and your charges will drop off your statement in accordance to your Terms of Service from your banking institution.
Typically banking policies state that these "PENDING" charges can remain for up to 10 days on your account before being released back the account. Also, please check to see if you received a confirmation email for these charges? You should always receive an email from USPS confirming any completed transactions.
I ask that you wait the 10 days to see if these charges appear on your statement as "COMPLETED". If your charges should show as "COMPLETE", please contact your bank or credit card company to dispute the charge. Unfortunately, I can only process refunds where your account shows the transaction as "COMPLETED".
I hope you find this information helpful,
Dwight
USPS Internet Customer Care Center
My response:
Sir
This is an unacceptable response.
It CLEARLY gives me the choice of saying "yes, my label printed/charge my card" and " no, do not charge my card".
NO CHARGE SHOULD HAVE BEEN MADE UNLESS I HIT THE "YES" BUTTON. PERIOD.
A hold of nearly $600 in times like these is completely unacceptable.
Fix it. NOW. As of 3:48 CST today TWO OF THESE HAVE BEEN PAID WITH ONE PENDING.
FIX THIS.
Disgruntled, Frank Blunt
Response #2:
Dear Mr. Blunt
Thank you for contacting the USPS Internet Customer Care Center. I will be glad to assist you in obtaining a label refund but I will need you to supply me the below information in order to process your online shipping label refund request. Please reply to this email after filling out the required information below:
1. Your name:
2. Username/Account Number:
3. Transaction number:
4. Label number(s):
5. Cost of label:
If you are unable to provide any of the required information, your request will be denied.
Please note that refund requests can only be made within 60 days from the print date of your label. If your request is beyond 60 days from the print date, you will not qualify for a refund.
If you did not receive the confirmation email after creating the label and you believe you were charged for a label you did not use, fill in the list above to the best of your ability.
I regret that I am unable to process refund requests for pending and allocated charges. These charges may take 7 - 10 days to drop off your charge account, depending on your financial institution's policy.
I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused.
Dwight
USPS Internet Customer Care Center
My response:
1.Frank Blunt
2. Blunt Productions/346XXXXX
3. 134587404/ 134593660
4. EC945152495US/EC945149593US
5. $69.92/$69.92
FIX THIS. THIS IS RIDICULOUS AS YOUR WEBSITE CLEARLY OFFERS A YES OR NO RESPONSE.
Really disgruntled customer,
Frank Blunt
Response #3:
Dear Customer, (I'm no longer "Mr. Blunt". Just a lowly ol' customer...)
Thank you for contacting the USPS Internet Customer Care Center. I have processed your refund and ask that you allow 10-14 days for the credit to show up in your credit card account. Should you have any further questions or concerns, please feel free to contact us again.
Dwight
USPS Internet Customer Care Center
My response:
BOO! HISS!
BS!
I'll think twice before I use USPS for shipping again.
Your website CLEARLY gave me the option of NOT CHARGING MY CARD yet you CHARGED IT ANYWAY!
Unacceptable business practices!
Frank Blunt
Response #4:
Dear Customer,
Thank you very much for your message. We are always happy to receive feedback and insights from our customers, and we appreciate your taking the time to write us.
The opinions of our customers are valuable and have been catalysts in the continuous improvement of our products. We will make sure your message is routed to the appropriate personnel for review.
We would like to thank you for your continued support of USPS programs. If you have further questions, please contact us again.
Dwight
USPS Internet Customer Care Center
My response:
Dear "Dwight"
What a crock. Your "service" is spotty, at best and my "feedback" is negative and want you to "route it" to somebody who will issue an IMMEDIATE REFUND for these BOGUS CHARGES.
My "opinion" matters not to you so this ridiculous, computer generated attempt at telling me how much you "value" my patronage makes me "vomit" a bit in my mouth.
My "support" for you is "waning". The "person" that will "review" this needs to make IMMEDIATE AMENDS with me.
Period.
Frank Blunt
Response #5:
Dear Customer,
Please accept my apologies for the frustration you are experiencing. I work closely with our development team in order to improve service. The opinions of our customers are invaluable and have been catalysts in the continuous improvement of our products. I will make sure your message is routed to the appropriate personnel for review.
You may also choose to contact your local Consumer Affairs and Claims Office. Phone numbers for local Consumer Affairs and Claims Offices are listed in your telephone book with other Postal Service numbers.
Below, I have included the mailing address of the main office:
Office of the Consumer Advocate
United States Postal Service
475 L'Enfant Plaza SW Rm 5812
Washington DC 20260-6230
I would like to thank you for your support of USPS programs. If you have other questions, please contact me again.
Thank you,
Dwight
USPS Internet Customer Care Center
My response:
Here's how this works.
Your site screwed up... you refund my money.
I'm not calling/writing/emailing anyone else.
FIX THIS.
Sheesh... no wonder this country is in the pooper these days. CRAP LIKE THIS? Ya THINK?
Frank Blunt
Response #6:
As yet to arrive.
Does anyone else think "Dwight" even exists? I don't. And the responses to an obviously flawed website are complete crocks o' shite!
So, Dwight... go fuck yourself and refund my fucking money. NOW.
Frank Blunt ©2009 All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I can't quit you, babe.
Damn. I feel terrible.
Heaviness in my chest, nagging cough. My hands fall asleep when I lie down. I gotta' quit, man.
You'd think having a heart attack in December of 2004 would have done it. Nope. Two stents later I still fire up just under a pack a day.
I did quit in 2000 for nine months and bought a pack of cowboy killers on vacation, thinking I could smoke "casually". Right...
I KNOW it is most likely killing me. I KNOW it smells terrible and is a pretty expensive habit to keep. I KNOW my clothes, breath and hair stink because of it. Even my dogs don't like it when I smoke... outside on the patio. But I can't quit!
Heart attack aside, I've tried the patch, the gum, auriculotherapy and hypnotism. Nothing has worked. The auriculotherapy just made my ears ring and the hypnotist was so bad that every time I talked about him I had to light one up. I just ran outside to smoke one as I write this! I can't quit!
I was born in 1955 and most likely was breast fed while my mom had a Salem hanging out of her mouth. Every single one of my close relatives smoked. Anywhere/everywhere. Winter car trips were smoke-fueled excursions that surely fueled my adult addiction. Dinner was about who could finish first and fire one up. Photos from that era all show either someone smoking or holding a cig, a pack in someone's pocket, a decorative ashtray or stand-up lighter or one of those jeweled women's smoking purses. Hell, there's even one picture of a 1965 Christmas tree spread featuring a carton of Camels for Dad and a carton of Salems for Mom. Give the gift that keeps on killing! dad died in 1984 at barely 49 and Mom hung on, barely, until she was 62 in 1997. Still quite young by today's standards.
But it was a different time and television had ads running all the time for smoking. "5 out of 7 Doctors smoke Camels". Sports heroes touted their favorite brands and cartoon ads enticed all of us youngsters to smoke. It was 'cool" to smoke. I didn't smoke until I was 17, but some of my friends were already 3-4 years into their smoking careers. They looked cool but smelled funny.
You could smoke anywhere. Airports, restaurants, baseball parks. Anywhere. Stores had ashtrays on every aisle and newsreels of the day even showed people smoking in Congress! Baseball players smoked in the locker room and the smell coming from the teacher's lounge reached throughout my high school. I remember teachers smoking on buses during field trips and my childhood doctor would smoke while he was examining me.
Now you can't smoke anywhere, even in a bar! Smokers are forced outside and, quite frankly, make it worse on themselves by sucking down two because they don't know when the next one will get smoked. During airport layovers I found myself smoking 3-4 rapidly so I could make the next flight, uncertain of what delays I may encounter that would keep me from this nasty beast of a habit. Nothing is funkier than the smell of an airport smoking lounge, where the acoustic tiles have turned yellow and brown from the toxins and tar. Now even those are disappearing.
We knew, as early as the 50's, that smoking was very bad for you. We now know the tobacco companies dosed us with nicotine, the prime addictive ingredient in cigarettes, to keep us coming back for more. But I still can't quit.
I have tried to place the blame on my parents, tobacco companies and the world in which we lived in but the fact remains that it is MY habit and I need to stop. I can't remember how many times I've said "as soon as I'm done with this project, or this road trip or this crisis, I'm gonna' quit". I can't quit!
My brother, who survived a nearly deadly run-in with cancer, has also gotten back on the horse. So I don't feel so bad that I can't stop, as he had cancer and couldn't quit while I only had a heart attack and cannot quit.
And that is a crock. Because I need to quit.
And please... non-smokers, particularly those who never smoked, can't even begin to understand what trying to quit this demon is all about. It sucks you in as you suck it in and I can't stop. You have NO IDEA what this demon is like. So don't start with me! I CAN'T QUIT!
Hopefully this year, if I don't die from a smoking-related disease, I can put all this together in my head and get this job done. I DO want to stop. I DO want to eat better and exercise more often. Maybe I'll start this week. Maybe next.
Gotta' go... I need a smoke.
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt
All Rights Reserved
Heaviness in my chest, nagging cough. My hands fall asleep when I lie down. I gotta' quit, man.
You'd think having a heart attack in December of 2004 would have done it. Nope. Two stents later I still fire up just under a pack a day.
I did quit in 2000 for nine months and bought a pack of cowboy killers on vacation, thinking I could smoke "casually". Right...
I KNOW it is most likely killing me. I KNOW it smells terrible and is a pretty expensive habit to keep. I KNOW my clothes, breath and hair stink because of it. Even my dogs don't like it when I smoke... outside on the patio. But I can't quit!
Heart attack aside, I've tried the patch, the gum, auriculotherapy and hypnotism. Nothing has worked. The auriculotherapy just made my ears ring and the hypnotist was so bad that every time I talked about him I had to light one up. I just ran outside to smoke one as I write this! I can't quit!
I was born in 1955 and most likely was breast fed while my mom had a Salem hanging out of her mouth. Every single one of my close relatives smoked. Anywhere/everywhere. Winter car trips were smoke-fueled excursions that surely fueled my adult addiction. Dinner was about who could finish first and fire one up. Photos from that era all show either someone smoking or holding a cig, a pack in someone's pocket, a decorative ashtray or stand-up lighter or one of those jeweled women's smoking purses. Hell, there's even one picture of a 1965 Christmas tree spread featuring a carton of Camels for Dad and a carton of Salems for Mom. Give the gift that keeps on killing! dad died in 1984 at barely 49 and Mom hung on, barely, until she was 62 in 1997. Still quite young by today's standards.
But it was a different time and television had ads running all the time for smoking. "5 out of 7 Doctors smoke Camels". Sports heroes touted their favorite brands and cartoon ads enticed all of us youngsters to smoke. It was 'cool" to smoke. I didn't smoke until I was 17, but some of my friends were already 3-4 years into their smoking careers. They looked cool but smelled funny.
You could smoke anywhere. Airports, restaurants, baseball parks. Anywhere. Stores had ashtrays on every aisle and newsreels of the day even showed people smoking in Congress! Baseball players smoked in the locker room and the smell coming from the teacher's lounge reached throughout my high school. I remember teachers smoking on buses during field trips and my childhood doctor would smoke while he was examining me.
Now you can't smoke anywhere, even in a bar! Smokers are forced outside and, quite frankly, make it worse on themselves by sucking down two because they don't know when the next one will get smoked. During airport layovers I found myself smoking 3-4 rapidly so I could make the next flight, uncertain of what delays I may encounter that would keep me from this nasty beast of a habit. Nothing is funkier than the smell of an airport smoking lounge, where the acoustic tiles have turned yellow and brown from the toxins and tar. Now even those are disappearing.
We knew, as early as the 50's, that smoking was very bad for you. We now know the tobacco companies dosed us with nicotine, the prime addictive ingredient in cigarettes, to keep us coming back for more. But I still can't quit.
I have tried to place the blame on my parents, tobacco companies and the world in which we lived in but the fact remains that it is MY habit and I need to stop. I can't remember how many times I've said "as soon as I'm done with this project, or this road trip or this crisis, I'm gonna' quit". I can't quit!
My brother, who survived a nearly deadly run-in with cancer, has also gotten back on the horse. So I don't feel so bad that I can't stop, as he had cancer and couldn't quit while I only had a heart attack and cannot quit.
And that is a crock. Because I need to quit.
And please... non-smokers, particularly those who never smoked, can't even begin to understand what trying to quit this demon is all about. It sucks you in as you suck it in and I can't stop. You have NO IDEA what this demon is like. So don't start with me! I CAN'T QUIT!
Hopefully this year, if I don't die from a smoking-related disease, I can put all this together in my head and get this job done. I DO want to stop. I DO want to eat better and exercise more often. Maybe I'll start this week. Maybe next.
Gotta' go... I need a smoke.
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Sucker!
Forgive my ranting. Or venting, as it were... I wrote this a few years back when I first started thinking about blogging.
I was the last guy that I thought that would ever get a cell phone. And I waited forever to get a computer.
I didn't get online until, gasp, 1995 and didn't get a cell phone until late in 1998! (Remember how unhip it was to be on AOL or to not have a cell phone? All of the sudden this was so very important?)
But I eventually hopped on the bandwagon. With a vengeance.
I now suck on the technological nipple, among many others, daily. 24/7. Because I am, along with many of my fellow Americans, a Sucker.
When my first (used) Mac was purchased (Yes, I'm simply too stupid to use a Windows computer...), it was already obsolete. So I just HAD to have the newer one! I broke down and bought the newfangled PowerMac. Then it was obsolete, or "slow', as they say in computer speak, in less than two years. And slow means I gotta buy a new one. So I did. 'Cos I'm a Sucker. Then another. Then that one had to be replaced. Then another. And another one. Sucker that I am.
And now? I am now the proud owner of five, yessir, FIVE Mac computers! All are reasonably current. I think.
But they all need hardware interfaces that don't come with the damn thing....so I have to pony up even more cash. Sucker. And just buying the software, and any related hardware accessories, just is never enough. Is it, Sucker?
Ninety-nine times out of a hundred you have to download an upgrade before you can use the damn program. Ever read a user agreement that opens before installation? Here's what it says, in a nutshell: If anything goes wrong, tough shit, Sucker.
Oh, by the way... all these computers need other gadgets to function. This little 'puter does audio, this little 'puter does video. This little laptop does bookkeeping and this one goes wee on the road. Sucker. That's right, here it here first... I can't fathom ever staying anywhere without having high speed, WIRELESS DAMMIT, Internet access! Because I'm a Sucker!!!
And now you have to BUY a warranty for the freakin' things! They're not good enough to work forever, as we have already learned, so you have next to zero support or service unless you pay for another suckerworthy gem corporate America dreamed up...the Extended Service Warranty! SUCKER!!!!
Apparently everything needs an Extended Service Warranty now. NOTHING has a reasonable life expectancy any longer. Cars. Houses. Appliances. Cell phones. Urgh.
Cell phones. And what a lovely contribution to evolution THOSE turned out to be. I know people who hover over theirs. Absolutely RULED by them. Some sort of chronic masturbatory affectation, if you ask me. I have one for when I leave the house. Because I may need to take a picture. Of some asshole on their cell phone. SUCKERS!!!!!
Ya gotta' love the headset cell phone wankers, though. Whenever I see someone with a cell phone headset or a blue thingy sticking out or their ear...I think to myself "Roger, Houston. This person has a problem." I especially love walking up to someone from the opposite side of their device. They seem somewhat, umm, excuse my very un-PC description, slightly retarded. They might as well be cacking up a hairball while they're wearing those stupid looking things.
I would venture a guess that every one of those people would buy a cell phone that you shove up your ass if somebody else bought one first.
And puhleez... if I see one more overly tanned, siliconically enhanced bimbo cradling one in her hand as if her very being depended on it being in her grasp... I'm gonna' shoot myself in the face. Who the Hell are these girls waiting to talk to??? I know who. Some doofus with a backwards baseball cap, tattoos and a goatee. That's who. (My wife says guys with goatees look like they have an asshole on their face. And, by golly, when you think about it...)
Who ARE these people?
I'll tell ya who they are... they're Suckers. Every damn one of 'em.
By the way... if you bought your cell phone within the last couple of years or so, SOMEBODY knows where you're at. There is a GPS in your phone, Sucker.
And speaking of phones, how many of you stood in line for hours to buy a phone...for $600-800... a PHONE... A MOTHEREFFIN' PHONE... that also allows us to surf the Web and watch videos. Suckers!
Great. The fuckstick in the black Escalade that swerves through three lanes, with no turn signal, yacking on his cell phone...doing EIGHTY... is now also checking his email or watching Girls Gone Wild on YouTube. Nice. Soon to be DEAD Suckers.
And why are we sucking? I dunno. We seem like reasonably smart people. We just happened to create all these ridiculous gizmos that we all must have to amuse ourselves with, times being so terrible.
We're BIG Suckers. Fueling a bunch of greed merchants that feed on our sucking. And guess what? They will continue to do this until we... stop... sucking... their... teat.
We're living in a country that should have the best of everything and yet daily we continue to baffle and amuse the rest of the world. Go figure.
But what do I know? Nothing.
I'm just another Sucker.
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt All Rights Reserved
I was the last guy that I thought that would ever get a cell phone. And I waited forever to get a computer.
I didn't get online until, gasp, 1995 and didn't get a cell phone until late in 1998! (Remember how unhip it was to be on AOL or to not have a cell phone? All of the sudden this was so very important?)
But I eventually hopped on the bandwagon. With a vengeance.
I now suck on the technological nipple, among many others, daily. 24/7. Because I am, along with many of my fellow Americans, a Sucker.
When my first (used) Mac was purchased (Yes, I'm simply too stupid to use a Windows computer...), it was already obsolete. So I just HAD to have the newer one! I broke down and bought the newfangled PowerMac. Then it was obsolete, or "slow', as they say in computer speak, in less than two years. And slow means I gotta buy a new one. So I did. 'Cos I'm a Sucker. Then another. Then that one had to be replaced. Then another. And another one. Sucker that I am.
And now? I am now the proud owner of five, yessir, FIVE Mac computers! All are reasonably current. I think.
But they all need hardware interfaces that don't come with the damn thing....so I have to pony up even more cash. Sucker. And just buying the software, and any related hardware accessories, just is never enough. Is it, Sucker?
Ninety-nine times out of a hundred you have to download an upgrade before you can use the damn program. Ever read a user agreement that opens before installation? Here's what it says, in a nutshell: If anything goes wrong, tough shit, Sucker.
Oh, by the way... all these computers need other gadgets to function. This little 'puter does audio, this little 'puter does video. This little laptop does bookkeeping and this one goes wee on the road. Sucker. That's right, here it here first... I can't fathom ever staying anywhere without having high speed, WIRELESS DAMMIT, Internet access! Because I'm a Sucker!!!
And now you have to BUY a warranty for the freakin' things! They're not good enough to work forever, as we have already learned, so you have next to zero support or service unless you pay for another suckerworthy gem corporate America dreamed up...the Extended Service Warranty! SUCKER!!!!
Apparently everything needs an Extended Service Warranty now. NOTHING has a reasonable life expectancy any longer. Cars. Houses. Appliances. Cell phones. Urgh.
Cell phones. And what a lovely contribution to evolution THOSE turned out to be. I know people who hover over theirs. Absolutely RULED by them. Some sort of chronic masturbatory affectation, if you ask me. I have one for when I leave the house. Because I may need to take a picture. Of some asshole on their cell phone. SUCKERS!!!!!
Ya gotta' love the headset cell phone wankers, though. Whenever I see someone with a cell phone headset or a blue thingy sticking out or their ear...I think to myself "Roger, Houston. This person has a problem." I especially love walking up to someone from the opposite side of their device. They seem somewhat, umm, excuse my very un-PC description, slightly retarded. They might as well be cacking up a hairball while they're wearing those stupid looking things.
I would venture a guess that every one of those people would buy a cell phone that you shove up your ass if somebody else bought one first.
And puhleez... if I see one more overly tanned, siliconically enhanced bimbo cradling one in her hand as if her very being depended on it being in her grasp... I'm gonna' shoot myself in the face. Who the Hell are these girls waiting to talk to??? I know who. Some doofus with a backwards baseball cap, tattoos and a goatee. That's who. (My wife says guys with goatees look like they have an asshole on their face. And, by golly, when you think about it...)
Who ARE these people?
I'll tell ya who they are... they're Suckers. Every damn one of 'em.
By the way... if you bought your cell phone within the last couple of years or so, SOMEBODY knows where you're at. There is a GPS in your phone, Sucker.
And speaking of phones, how many of you stood in line for hours to buy a phone...for $600-800... a PHONE... A MOTHEREFFIN' PHONE... that also allows us to surf the Web and watch videos. Suckers!
Great. The fuckstick in the black Escalade that swerves through three lanes, with no turn signal, yacking on his cell phone...doing EIGHTY... is now also checking his email or watching Girls Gone Wild on YouTube. Nice. Soon to be DEAD Suckers.
And why are we sucking? I dunno. We seem like reasonably smart people. We just happened to create all these ridiculous gizmos that we all must have to amuse ourselves with, times being so terrible.
We're BIG Suckers. Fueling a bunch of greed merchants that feed on our sucking. And guess what? They will continue to do this until we... stop... sucking... their... teat.
We're living in a country that should have the best of everything and yet daily we continue to baffle and amuse the rest of the world. Go figure.
But what do I know? Nothing.
I'm just another Sucker.
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt All Rights Reserved
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Surprise, surprise!
ZZzzzz. Hey! I was sleeping!
What?!? Alex Rodriguez is a juicer?!? An admitted juicer that lied about juicing to America's news sweetheart, Katie the C?
Surprise, surprise, people. So what else is new? We're told 103 others are juicers alongside A-Rod, The Rocket and Barry Bonds.
Who will be the next to fall? When will McGuire come clean? What exactly did Giambi & Pettitte ingest? Sosa? Was he clean? Who cares?
Well, I do. I wanna' know the names of each and every one of these "professional" ballplayers that were juicing. Why?
Because I wanted to play major league ball and was never big enough, or threw hard enough or hit well enough. I was not good enough to compete at that level so I became a musician, a job with few physical requirements... back then, anyways. Admittedly today I'd need to dance and look prettier. But we'll have to talk about that at a later date...
But I want to know, as a lifelong fan, who is cheating or who has cheated. I'd like to know so I can judge another human being, who I previously held in high regard simply for being good 30% of the time at their chosen craft, for who they really are. Juicer cheaters. I want to know so I can pick and choose which stupid expensive ticket prices I want to purchase to see a pro game. My last trip to Fenway with my wife was around $1600. To watch cheaters play the sport that I love. I know. I'm a fool, right?
Sheesh... A-Rod's numbers from 2001-2003, the time frame he admits to using, are truly better numbers than before and after. Which leads me to question every single player of that era and their numbers.
Look around the past 2 years since the Mitchell Report (December 2007) and see the HR numbers down from before and ERA's lowering. As Casey Stengel once said: "you can look it up".
As a fan of the sport and a player as a kid I am saddened and outraged at all these allegations and confessions. Man, what's next? If a cat can't throw a fastball anymore are they gonna haul out a pitching machine that throws strikes at 96 MPH?
These guys make kabillions of dollars to play a game and they feel the need, or the pressure of whatever... to cheat. Hit .300 and you're an instant celebrity with more money in endorsements. Win 20 games or pitch one "lights out" inning at the end of a game and you're a God. So why cheat? Play for the league minimum for 12 years and retire or coach. Why cheat?
Because we live in a cheater society, that's why. Everybody cheats when they drive. People cheat on their taxes, their spouses and at work. People lie about what and who they are anonymously on the internet.
That is why am I NOT surprised to learn A-Rod cheated. Because apparently everybody cheats.
I chose the wrong career. I should have juiced up and cheated so I could play pro ball.
Oh. Wait. Did they even have steroids in 1970?
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt All Rights Reserved
What?!? Alex Rodriguez is a juicer?!? An admitted juicer that lied about juicing to America's news sweetheart, Katie the C?
Surprise, surprise, people. So what else is new? We're told 103 others are juicers alongside A-Rod, The Rocket and Barry Bonds.
Who will be the next to fall? When will McGuire come clean? What exactly did Giambi & Pettitte ingest? Sosa? Was he clean? Who cares?
Well, I do. I wanna' know the names of each and every one of these "professional" ballplayers that were juicing. Why?
Because I wanted to play major league ball and was never big enough, or threw hard enough or hit well enough. I was not good enough to compete at that level so I became a musician, a job with few physical requirements... back then, anyways. Admittedly today I'd need to dance and look prettier. But we'll have to talk about that at a later date...
But I want to know, as a lifelong fan, who is cheating or who has cheated. I'd like to know so I can judge another human being, who I previously held in high regard simply for being good 30% of the time at their chosen craft, for who they really are. Juicer cheaters. I want to know so I can pick and choose which stupid expensive ticket prices I want to purchase to see a pro game. My last trip to Fenway with my wife was around $1600. To watch cheaters play the sport that I love. I know. I'm a fool, right?
Sheesh... A-Rod's numbers from 2001-2003, the time frame he admits to using, are truly better numbers than before and after. Which leads me to question every single player of that era and their numbers.
Look around the past 2 years since the Mitchell Report (December 2007) and see the HR numbers down from before and ERA's lowering. As Casey Stengel once said: "you can look it up".
As a fan of the sport and a player as a kid I am saddened and outraged at all these allegations and confessions. Man, what's next? If a cat can't throw a fastball anymore are they gonna haul out a pitching machine that throws strikes at 96 MPH?
These guys make kabillions of dollars to play a game and they feel the need, or the pressure of whatever... to cheat. Hit .300 and you're an instant celebrity with more money in endorsements. Win 20 games or pitch one "lights out" inning at the end of a game and you're a God. So why cheat? Play for the league minimum for 12 years and retire or coach. Why cheat?
Because we live in a cheater society, that's why. Everybody cheats when they drive. People cheat on their taxes, their spouses and at work. People lie about what and who they are anonymously on the internet.
That is why am I NOT surprised to learn A-Rod cheated. Because apparently everybody cheats.
I chose the wrong career. I should have juiced up and cheated so I could play pro ball.
Oh. Wait. Did they even have steroids in 1970?
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt All Rights Reserved
My first blog. An open letter to Paul McCartney and others...
I have always wanted to blog. I think I have some unique points of view on many subjects, but was hesitant to post during the political divisions of the last 8 (OK. 12.) years.
I can't pretend to know much about politics, economics or global warming.
I really only KNOW two subjects. Baseball and music.
So, for my first blog I thought I would post a letter I wished I could write to Sir Paul McCartney. Are you ready? OK... here I go...
Dear Sir Paul,
My whole world changed February 9, 1964 (45 years ago yesterday!!!) when I first saw you and your band mates on the Ed Sullivan show. Within the week following that historic broadcast I went from playing "Army" to playing guitar.
You and your music put me on a lifelong path that has been both exciting and heartbreaking. By the time Revolver and Rubber Soul had come out I was a full fledged music nut. I learned how to play, write and record music and it has been a lifelong career for me. I have been lucky enough to have a career in this God-awful business for these past 40 years.
While I have never possessed the raw talents you so obviously have I was able to eek out a living. For that I am very grateful!
But seeing and hearing you the past few years, from live TV appearances to your recordings the past 10 years or so, I have come to one conclusion.
You need to stop.
Your endless attempts at reproducing the classic music from the pinnacle of your youth is becoming a joke. True, you have an AMAZING catalog to perform, but your performances these past few years pale by any standard to the prime of your past. No longer do you "own" pop singing. Your voice is a mere shadow of what it used to be yet you insist on trying to sing these classic songs in their original keys.
And you're not the only act I feel this way about.
The Who, The Rolling Stones and others still trot out these classic, but tired versions of what used to be the music of my life. I cringe every time I hear Roger Daltrey try and sing with the bombast of his performances on Who's Next. The Stones can't seem to roll until about 4 or 5 songs into their set, if at all, and watching Pete Townshend, Keith Richards and Ron Wood try to sling their guitars is painful.
All three acts changed my life. I will never forget the first time I heard The Who. It was on the Today show around 1966. They were doing an early satellite broadcast from London and just blew me away! And the first time I heard "Brown Sugar" I nearly wrecked my parents' car.
Continuing to try and capture these glory days has turned into an embarrassment, in my opinion. No longer do "The Who" (if you can call the remaining duo "The Who") seem important, explosive or necessary. They sound like a tired old bar band (like my tired old bar bands did) covering The Who.
The Stones just look plain silly to me. Jagger, Richards and Co. are laughable at best and people who pay the high ticket price aren't seeing one of the most important acts to ever emerge but a mere shadow of what they used to be.
And Sir Paul's appearance on last Sunday's Grammy awards (where he actually sang pretty well!) was ruined for me by the unskilled bashing from Dave Grohl (nice guy but does anyone else think Foo Fighters is nothing but Foo?) who obviously never heard Ringo play that song.
It can't be about greed by these classic artists. I am most certain all three are wealthy beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
It must be about ego. As if they have ANYTHING to still prove.
So, Paul... fellas... please stop. Allow me the honor of telling all of you that you changed my life in a most profound way. Let me tell you that I still get chills when I listen to the White Album, Who's Next and Exile On Main Street. On vinyl!
I am still a HUGE fan of all your collective careers and music.
But most of all.... PLEASE....let me be.
With regards and respect,
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt All Rights Reserved
I can't pretend to know much about politics, economics or global warming.
I really only KNOW two subjects. Baseball and music.
So, for my first blog I thought I would post a letter I wished I could write to Sir Paul McCartney. Are you ready? OK... here I go...
Dear Sir Paul,
My whole world changed February 9, 1964 (45 years ago yesterday!!!) when I first saw you and your band mates on the Ed Sullivan show. Within the week following that historic broadcast I went from playing "Army" to playing guitar.
You and your music put me on a lifelong path that has been both exciting and heartbreaking. By the time Revolver and Rubber Soul had come out I was a full fledged music nut. I learned how to play, write and record music and it has been a lifelong career for me. I have been lucky enough to have a career in this God-awful business for these past 40 years.
While I have never possessed the raw talents you so obviously have I was able to eek out a living. For that I am very grateful!
But seeing and hearing you the past few years, from live TV appearances to your recordings the past 10 years or so, I have come to one conclusion.
You need to stop.
Your endless attempts at reproducing the classic music from the pinnacle of your youth is becoming a joke. True, you have an AMAZING catalog to perform, but your performances these past few years pale by any standard to the prime of your past. No longer do you "own" pop singing. Your voice is a mere shadow of what it used to be yet you insist on trying to sing these classic songs in their original keys.
And you're not the only act I feel this way about.
The Who, The Rolling Stones and others still trot out these classic, but tired versions of what used to be the music of my life. I cringe every time I hear Roger Daltrey try and sing with the bombast of his performances on Who's Next. The Stones can't seem to roll until about 4 or 5 songs into their set, if at all, and watching Pete Townshend, Keith Richards and Ron Wood try to sling their guitars is painful.
All three acts changed my life. I will never forget the first time I heard The Who. It was on the Today show around 1966. They were doing an early satellite broadcast from London and just blew me away! And the first time I heard "Brown Sugar" I nearly wrecked my parents' car.
Continuing to try and capture these glory days has turned into an embarrassment, in my opinion. No longer do "The Who" (if you can call the remaining duo "The Who") seem important, explosive or necessary. They sound like a tired old bar band (like my tired old bar bands did) covering The Who.
The Stones just look plain silly to me. Jagger, Richards and Co. are laughable at best and people who pay the high ticket price aren't seeing one of the most important acts to ever emerge but a mere shadow of what they used to be.
And Sir Paul's appearance on last Sunday's Grammy awards (where he actually sang pretty well!) was ruined for me by the unskilled bashing from Dave Grohl (nice guy but does anyone else think Foo Fighters is nothing but Foo?) who obviously never heard Ringo play that song.
It can't be about greed by these classic artists. I am most certain all three are wealthy beyond anyone's wildest dreams.
It must be about ego. As if they have ANYTHING to still prove.
So, Paul... fellas... please stop. Allow me the honor of telling all of you that you changed my life in a most profound way. Let me tell you that I still get chills when I listen to the White Album, Who's Next and Exile On Main Street. On vinyl!
I am still a HUGE fan of all your collective careers and music.
But most of all.... PLEASE....let me be.
With regards and respect,
Frank Blunt
©2009 Frank Blunt All Rights Reserved
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