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Posts Tagged ‘Inner Sanctum’

The Stove Was The Next To Go

Posted by LOTGK on December 19, 2008

In my last appliance update, our refrigerator went on the blink and we had it replaced after a bizarre install.  (See The Story Here) Turns out I was right. the stove was the next appliance to die. Using my flawed logic that since Sheely’s Appliance and Furniture did a good job with the fridge, they would also do the same with a stove. I was wrong!

The stove had died and would no longer be the hiding place for my wife’s birthday and Christmas gifts. Patty always asked me where I hid her presents and I told her in a place she would never think to look. (SMACK! That was Patty giving me a love tap) We went to Sheely’s the next day.

We walked straight to the oven section and browsed around a bit. A very pleasant saleswoman asked if we needed any assistance. We answered yes and asked her several questions. Being satisfied with the oven and the price, we bought it and made arrangements for delivery.

Sheely’s was on time for the delivery and the set up began all right. The delivery men unhooked the old stove and took it out to the truck and wheeled in the new one. I noticed there was a big scratch and a dent on the top left side of the stove. Since it wouldn’t be seen once installed, I let the installation continue after pointing it out.

In a few minutes the stove was in place. The new gas line connected and everything was ready to go. The delivery man told me he was going to run some tests to make sure everything was working properly. He turned on the right side burners and they clicked on and fired up. He then turned on the left side burners on. In a second, the burner blew up sending the top part of the burner into the air. Flames came out that reached the ceiling of my kitchen. The flames almost caught the delivery man on fire.

He quickly turned the burner off. He then said that it was normal for the stove to do that after installation. I asked if perhaps the dent had something to do with it, maybe damaging the burner. Coincidence that the right side worked but the left side blew up where the dent was.

He said no and began packing up getting ready to leave. I stopped him and told him I didn’t want the stove. It was clearly defective, and a fire hazard. He said I had to take it up with the sales department. He said they would have a service technician out in a couple of days to adjust the burners.

WTF, its broke and a fire hazard, and they want me to keep it in my kitchen for a few more days, possibly with gas buildup or leaks and wait for a technician to tell me the obvious that it broken. Perhaps they were going to wait until my kitchen launched into space.

After several minutes of heated exchange, he disconnected the stove and brought my old one back in and reconnected it back up.

I called customer service and told them to shove it up their ass and canceled my credit card. Sheeley’s really dropped the ball here. The customer service agent sounded like a mindless automaton repeating her well rehearsed line. “I’m sorry sir that you were not satisfied with your purchase at Sheely’s. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

That same day I went to Best Buy. They had the exact same stove and as a bonus, it was $100 less than Sheely’s. They even had free delivery and set up. They came out the next day, removed the old one, brought in the new one, set it up, (This one had no scratches or dents) connected the gas line, lined it up, and tested it. All the burners worked perfectly. The delivery men were very friendly, very professional, and installed the stove in no time.

I do not think I will be shopping Sheeley’s anytime soon.

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Idora Park Wildcat Roller Coaster

Posted by LOTGK on December 11, 2008

idora park wildcat roller coaster

Idora Park – Wild Cat – Back Seat View

My family loves riding roller coasters. We have been on hundreds of them. From the modern steel coasters to the old fashioned rickety chain clanking wooden ones, we ride them all. However, Youngstown’s Idora Park, home of the Wildcat, was one of my particular favorites.

Idora Park is now closed, a casualty of an arson fire back in 1984 that burned the Wildcat and a good portion of the midway. The park lay in disarray for years before it was completely bulldozed and now just a vacant field stands there. Here is a video I took of the park back in 1988, four years after it burned. Idora Park – 1988

My loving wife Patty and I frequented the park while we were dating and loved riding the Wildcat. (She also insisted on me riding the Ferris Wheel which I have a fear of, but it was love, and she asked me in a way I could not say no. Patty asked, “If you love me you would get on the Ferris Wheel with me.” Needless to say, I was sicker than a dog when I got off and had to lay on a park bench for an hour before I felt better. BTW, that was the last time I was ever, or ever will be, on a Ferris wheel.) The Ferris Wheel spins in the wrong direction, but that is another story.

Back then, in the 70′s and early 80′s, the Wildcat was ranked as one of the best roller coasters in the world. In 1984, it was still ranked in the top ten. And for good reason. The Wildcat had killer hills, blinding speed, wicked curves, and a few dips that would lift you right out of the seat.

The Wildcat began like most coasters. Passengers loaded from a wooden platform. We would slide into the car, (Of course the back and front seats were coveted) strap on the leather seat belt, (Nowadays, coasters have restraints that snap down on your body so you cannot get out of the car but not the Wildcat, you could stand up and get out of the seat if you wanted. But who would be crazy enough to even think about getting out while the ride was in motion?) and wait for the operator to release the big wooden brake lever sending us off on a thrilling ride.

The coaster train would quickly move forward and dip down a slight hill into a dark tunnel. The wind rushing inside the tunnel was deafening along with all the girls screaming. The tunnel lasted about 15 seconds or so and when daylight appeared, we were at the foot of the first hill of the Wildcat.

Being a wooden coaster, the train glided up the hill just a tad and then locked itself onto the chain drive in the middle of the tracks. You could hear the chain attach itself to the train as it tugged and jerked us slowly up the hill smacking against the wood underneath. The chain would make clackity clack sounds and sometimes rise up and slam down in it’s slot making it seem like the chain would snap. (It never did)

Once we peaked at about 85 feet at the top, the chain disengaged and the train would slowly coast around a large bend heading for the first hill. Everyone would look out over the park and point out where they parked their car and other places. The front seat was the best view while the back seat was the fastest ride. At this time, everyone who was fearless raised their hands over their heads preparing for the deep plunge.

In a heartbeat, the train plunged down the first hill with steel wheels screeching against uneven tracks smacking against its wooden frame. People screamed, yelled, swore, and laughed just to get them through the dip. The coaster would reach speeds of 65-70 miles per hour on this first hill. (Urban legend had it that the coaster would exceed 80 miles per hour at night time after it had just rained. Something about the water and cool night air making the wheels slide faster)

At the bottom of the hill was a little dip that would lift you right out of your seat. You would have a split second of the feeling of weightlessness. (When I was much younger, a friend of mine, Guy, and I rode the Wildcat. At the bottom of the hill, after the dip, he was so light, that the force was pushing him out of the car. I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back down.) I figured he owed me a sno-cone for saving his life.

Instantly, we were rushing up the second hill and then the wild fall down. Then the third hill. Then a wicked bend in the tracks forcing everyone to one side. Then a few dips lifting the riders off their asses and into the air. Then a vicious covered curve that would bring us speeding into the station for a safe landing.

The brake man would pull his levers and the coaster would stop. The people would jump out laughing and high fiving each other. (High Fiving – It was a 70′s thing) The people in line would then take their turn and jump into their seats.

Getting back to who would be crazy enough to even think of standing up while the Wildcat was in motion. Well, let me tell you about my loving Dare Devil wife Patty. (You thought it would be me didn’t you?) Patty used to work for Idora Park and the employee’s would have a contest on who could start from the back of the coaster and make their way to the front seat of the coaster before it went down the first hill. Patty won the contest.

Patty was in the back seat, the coaster would start, and when it came out of the tunnel, she was three cars ahead. Going up the hill, she would jump another car ahead. At the top of the hill and rounding the bend, she made her way to the very front car just in time for it to plummet down the hill.

From that moment on, Patty was a bona fide member of the Dare Devils Club.
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Fantasy Football League (GPFL)

Posted by LOTGK on September 4, 2008

The NFL regular season kicks off tonight as the Washington Redskins play the Super Bowl champion New York Giants. Millions of Fantasy Football leagues also kick off Thursday. For those that don’t know what Fantasy Football is, in a nutshell, a group of friends get together, and by using the rosters of each NFL team, draft players at certain positions that they think will score the most points for the season. each week, the fantasy coaches submit a starting lineup and plays another coach. High score wins the game.

Sounds simple right? Well, actually, it was. I say was for many years back, around 1975, my brother George and I dreamed up our own type of fantasy football. No, our lineups weren’t online, (The Internet wasn’t around yet) nor did we have complete team lineups with stats from weeks and years past, nor backup or practice squad players. Hell, at the time, we only had access to two games on Sunday.

A Sunday ritual was George and me watching NFL football all day. He was a Browns fan, (I didn’t hold that against him) and I of course a Viking fan. We were both very competitive brothers. We made wagers on many things, especially football. Parlay pick four and pick ten teams were played weekly. But we found something a little different. A little more personal. Something we could have bragging rights about.

We would not just bet on the game being played, but on the players individual performances and how many points each would score. The GPFL (George & Pat) Football League was formed.

We quickly came up with some easy rules to avoid any stats wars anomalies. The rules were as follows:
* A coin toss before each game determined who got to pick first.
* 8 positions would be selected.
* You had to pick one, and only one Quarterback, one Kicker, one Tight End, two running backs, two wide receivers, and one defense.
* A $2.50 wager per game was the fee to play. No mercy.
* A TD pass equaled 6 points.
* A TD run equaled 6 points.
* An interception, blocked kick or punt, or fumble return for a TD equaled 6 points.
* A safety equaled 2 points.
* A field goal equaled 3 points.
* An extra point equaled 1 point.
* This stands for all players. Example, if a running back throws a TD pass he is awarded 6 points. If your QB throws a TD pass to your receiver, you will 12 points, 6 points for the pass, and 6 points for the reception.
* After both games are played, (The 1pm and 4pm game) the coach with the highest combined score was declared the winner.
* In case of a tie, the coin flip at the beginning of the day determines the winner.

George and I would play weekly keeping a running win / loss record as well as stats for each game. Everything would be recorded in a spiral notebook pad.

As the weeks turned into years, George and I became very good at our game. We understood each other tendencies, who we would likely pick, stay away from, but most of all, we became Mel Kiper like experts. Not just for our own teams, but for every player in the NFL. We knew the best receivers on each team, what running back came in for goal line plays, what defense was the best, how quarterbacks reacted to other teams defenses, and how a team played in bad weather.

We weren’t in it for the money. Remember, we were very competitive. If I won that week, I would always send my brother a letter. Inside the letter would be a picture cut out from the newspaper or magazine of one or more of his team members with either an arm or leg missing and I would add a funny caption or two. I loved to gloat and rub it in. And so did George. He would put signs in the front yard displaying his victory. Other times, he would have his friends call me on the phone claiming to be players on his team. They would say, “Truly the night of the Cardinals.” (The Cardinals was the name of his team) At the most unsuspecting time, there would be a note hanging in the closet, taped to my steering wheel, in a cupboard door. You never knew where or when he would pull his prank.

As technology caught up in the 1980′s, we added a third and then a fourth game to our mix. ESPN was our third game and Monday Night Football became our fourth game. Strategy became more intense, scores became higher, and the rivalry more intense. The rules remained the same however.

The 1990′s saw real change to our league and the rules. We added more coaches, 10 of us in total, and we drafted like the NFL did. We had 15 rounds and after week one, we were able to add three more players to our roster. That would be determined by league record. Worst record picks first. If they deferred, second worse selected, and so on. The players we drafted before the season began were ours for keeps. The next year we would start with those same players making the draft an actual rookie draft and other players cut or waived from our coaches. The USA Today paper became our bible. Whatever the stats said we went with. If there was a typo, it was to bad, the bible was the final say. (Born again Christians must love fantasy football )

The Internet changed things once again. We noticed that many of our rules were the same rules as AOL’s fantasy football and Yahoo and CBS sports line. Everything was automated. Scores would magically populate and wins and losses would tally each week. (Electronically they keep the baseball score – Sonny & Cher – The Beat Goes On) Even the gloating became electronic. We would now email our victory smack talk with the push of a few buttons.

My brother George passed away November 20th, 1997. I haven’t played our game since. My heart just isn’t in it. However, several times over the course of the last 10 years when the New York Yankee’s (George’s favorite baseball team) or his high school football team, (The Mooney Cardinals) won the World Series or State football Championship, I would stick a yard sign with the newspaper headlines of his teams success on his grave to remind me of the fun we had and that I still miss the hell out of him.

Truly, the night of the Cardinals.
R.I.P. Big George

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Tale Of The Tape

Posted by LOTGK on August 27, 2008

In the 1970′s and 80′s, my brother George had a complete weight lifting gym in our basement. When I say complete, I mean all the machines and thousands of pounds of weights. There was even a name for the gym.
Geo’s Gym.

The gym was open to all of our friends who wanted to lift weights. There were approximately 20 members who frequently came over several times per week. Most were just regular lifters, but a few were serious body builders.

One of the members was Phil, a school mate and friend for many years. He wanted to be the next Mr. Universe and started his training with a vengeance. Phil was dedicated and had a complete plan mapped out. He had wall graphs charting his weight gain and also his vital body measurements. Biceps, chest, waist, legs, and about 25 other body measurements.

George took notice of this and also of the tape measure Phil used and the frequency he measured. (Once a week, every Monday) George, being the prankster, had an idea and brought me and Hoover (Geo’s Gym member) into the plan.

On Sunday, George took Phil’s measuring tape and soaked it in hot water for an hour. Then he hung it over one of the pull up bars in the ceiling and tied several weight plates to it which would stretch the tape by about a half inch.

On Monday before Phil would arrive, George placed the tape back where Phil kept it. He and Hoover would then wait for Phil to measure his progress.

Phil began with his biceps and stopped and measured it again. In fact, he measured it three times. He had lost a half inch on his biceps. He then went to each body part measurement checking each several times.

When he was finished charting all the results, George asked how he did. Phil said he couldn’t figure it out but he lost almost a half inch. George played along and asked to borrow Phil’s tape to check his own measurements. He took the tape, flexed his arms and measured his bicep. Lying, He said he gained an 1/8th of an inch from last week. Hoover also said the same.

For about a month, George repeated the routine and Phil couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong. And then George changed directions. Instead of soaking the tape in hot water and hanging weights on it, George would soak the tape in cold water and then toss it in the clothes dryer for 20 minutes creating a shorter tape measure. About a half an inch. George then put the tape back and waited for Phil.

Come Monday, Phil began his measurement ritual. After the first measurement, he got all excited as he noticed a big jump in his bicep. When he was finished he told George that he had a break through in his training and that the results were significant. George continued this sequence for about a month.

George kept this up for more than six months, changing the tape making it shorter or longer on a whim all awhile Phil was oblivious to what was really happening.

Alas, all good gags come to an end. One Monday, Phil brought a new measuring tape and tossed out the old one. After he completed his measurements, Phil knew something was wrong. His chart zigzagged up and down each month and now his measurements were again completely different from last weeks. George decided to inform Phil what was happening and that he was being pranked.

George, Hoover, and myself were laughing hysterically as George explained how he would stretch the tape one week and shorten it the next and how Phil would get mad when the measurements were short and excited when they would get big. Phil took the news pretty good. Of course he had to. George was a beast and it was his gym.

Good times, good times.

R.I.P. Big G.

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The School Yard

Posted by LOTGK on July 12, 2008

Over the past several years, I received numerous requests to post photo’s of where I grew up. The pictures below are from my old neighborhood, the school yard, the birth of the Dare Devil’s Club, many a fires, explosions, and other riotously funny antics. I grew up in the 60′s and 70′s and the lay of the land has changed over the past 40 years, but the key elements are still there. Enjoy the pictures. Make sure to click the thumb nail for a much larger picture.



The school yard. The old neighborhood. This is the drive way that led to the school. Plenty of black top for skate boards, bike riding, baskekball, tennis. This was a well traveled road as all the neighborhood kids knew this was the meeting place.


The hill. Way back when, the hill and the rest of the grass area was jungle like. Weeds and tree’s 8-10 feet high with brush enough to hide. We had at least several forts at any given time. A perfect setting for kick the can, capture the flag, and cowboys and indians.


The school yard. As you can see, the school yard was huge. It housed 5 full sized baseball fields, a football field,  and plenty of open space. It was also advantageous when running from the police. We knew they wouldn’t chase us. All we had to do was run into the field. We never got caught.


This is the playground  field right after it was cut by the tractor. It would only be cut several times a year. If you pile the dead dry grass into a huge pile, and light it on fire, airplanes can see it from the air. Not that I know this as first hand knowledge.


The black top walkway that went  fence to playground. I used to ride my mini-bike like a bat out of hell down that path into the playground to let it wind out on a long straight away. I can still feel the wind in my hair. (Which wasn’t gray at that time contrary to popular belief)


This three sided enclosed porch was the place we we used to climb onto the roof. It was one of the easier access points to the roof. Once on the roof, there wasn’t much to really do but to climb higher onto the gym roof. But it was there, so we did it.


One of the ditches behind the school. We used to climb down the three ditches and then light Sound Colorful Birds and wait for them to fly. (Sound Colorful Birds were small projectile firework items.) They hurt when they hit you and there was no escape.


The second ditch. This one had a window and a gas or water pipe running through it. The pipe made this ditch the easiest to climb in and out of. We used to walk across the red pipe as a test. We were not allowed to use our hands to steady ourselves. We fell in a lot.


The third ditch. This ditch had a side wall and window ledge that we used to climb in and out of. It’s amazing that we never broke a single pane of glass while climbing in or out. We never knew what the ditches were actually used for. Still don’t to this day.


These steps lead to the basement of the school. There were about forty steps. We used to ride our bikes down them to see if we could hang on and get to the bottom. Sometimes we didn’t. And when we did, we would smash into the blue door at the bottom.


The back of the school showing the porch, the three ditches, and the basement steps. This was a well secluded area visible to very few. Only one access road that was off to the side. There was also a basketball court with a spotlight for night games.


Right up against the fence was where the Dare Devils Club apple tree stood. To be a member, you had to climb to the first branch, which was about 10 feet in the air, and jump. It was simple. Jump and you were in. Break a leg and you became the leader for the month.


The playground. These rides are more than 50 years old. We used to wax the sliding boards and watch unsuspecting kids smack their heads unprepared at the speed of the waxed up slide. You would actually hear the sound (Zing!) as the kids went down the slide.


Home Plate. There were 5 baseball fields complete with dirt infields and lined bases and several were always in use. I’m talking lined fields, clay infields, back stops, and a couple fields had home run fences. This beat up buried home plate is all that’s left.


Long range view of the playground. At any given summer day, there would be at least 10-15 kids doing something at the playground. usually we were up to no good, but we were there. Nowadays, the playground is almost always empty.


The jungle gym. I had a dream once that the devil was chasing me around the jungle gym. He never caught me thank God.


My best friend Mark’s old house. It’s the one with the American flag painted on the garage.


Another view of the garage. Rocketeers forever Mark.


Meadowbrook Avenue entrance. There were several entrances to the school. This one was from the back and not visible from the main highway, Market street. So of course it was the most used entrance when we were up to no good.


Full view of the back of the school. This is the view from Meadowbrook street. The back of the school. Out of sight from the neighbors and Market street.


Raised blocks we used to climb on and try to knock the other kids off. We had some strong hands back in those days. We could hang on for a long time.


The school side view from a distance. Market street, the main road is in the distance. When I was a young lad, the grass area was covered with a thick brush of weeds, tree’s, and jungle like greenery. Perfect for hiding.


The backside of the school. one complete lap was 3 tenths of a mile. We used to race our bikes around three times, or one mile. Sometimes we would have 30-40 bikes in the race. A lot of accidents on the corners, but that’s racing. Admit it, you only watch NASCAR to see the crashes.


The many hiding places for bike ditch. The school provided many nooks and crannies, (Just like an English muffin) to hide in. There were plenty around the school.


Another view of the school yard. Again, all the grass land was covered in weeds back in the day. A jungle in our own back yard.


The race track. We used this strech of black top for bike racing. We would start at the top and pedal our bikes for all we we worth. We had speedometers on our bikes back then, and we exceeded 40 miles per hour. That was cooking.


Kindergarten class. This was my Kindergarten class. Mrs. Fisher was my teacher. The next year I was shipped off to Catholic school for eight years of mean old nuns hurling erasers at my head. Catholic education my ass!


The flag pole. I can still hear the sound the rope made as it swung in the way hitting against the side of the pole. Just last week they replaced the flag pole that was standing for over 50 years.


The grate. This was another ditch in the front of the school that had a covering. A loose flimsy covering. When you walked on it, it would creak and shake and shimmy. We used the grate as a test to show allegiance to the Dare Devil’s club. Sort of like walking the plank to swear your loyalty. No one fell in, but it did cave in once when we tossed a building block in the center.


Side view of the school. This is the ledge we used to walk from one end to the next just to see if we could. Sometimes we made it, sometimes not. It would take an hour or two to complete the task.


Another view of the window ledge we walked as kids. In walking the ledge, we tried to knock each other off. It took a long time, but hell, we were kids, and we had nothing but time in the summer.


Basketball courts. There used to be two back boards and a lined court. There was almost always a game going on at one of the courts. Now, not even a back board remains.


The view to the street. Back in the day, the entire area was covered with heavy brush, almost jungle like where forts and numerous hiding places were made.


The black top. This is where we played kick ball and a form of soccer. This was also the site of many a bot made bike ramps and broken bones.


This is the school drive entrance. When we were little kids, when it rained really hard, the street would flood from water running down the drive. The water was running so fast, we were able to surf. We got our winter sleds, the round metal spinning plate ones, and used them as surf boards. We would start at the black sewer and surf as far as we could down the drive. Being from Ohio, none of us were very good at surfing so we rarely made it to the bottom but it was fun as hell.

This post dedicated to my best friend, Hippy Mark. Rocketeers for life my friend.

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Grassy Knoll Institute

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Sladewilson: The War Journal Vol. 2

Entertainment Reviews - Video Games, Music, Television, Movies for the urban warrior... Adult Themes. Parential discretion advised...

Doooh Head

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Ahrcanum

Conspiracy, HAARP, Earthquakes, Volcano's, Weather Modification, H1N1, Swine Flu, NWO, Politics, and other hedonistic topical articles from The CEO & Czar of The Committee In My Head. Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead.

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