License to Ill

Both the Giants and the Jets are planning to sell “Personal Seat Licenses” (PSLs) to gouge season ticket holders pay for construction of their new shared stadium. This morning’s Newark Star-Ledger has an article on the subject, and it makes one of the most bone-headed statements I’ve read about PSLs.

The cost of building stadiums — along with cities’ increasing reluctance to commit tax dollars to sports projects — has made such fees necessary at new venues, according to sports finance experts. The $1.6 billion stadium being built next to the current Giants Stadium is expected to open in mid-2010. These fees would help fund the construction.

The Giants and Jets are sharing the costs of what is expected to be the most expensive stadium built. The state is paying an estimated $300 million for infrastructure improvements at the Meadowlands, as well as other costs related to the new venue.

The Giants’ seat licenses are expected to bring in $300 million to $400 million, team co-owner John Mara said in June. If the Jets were to match that with their take from the PSLs, the cost of the stadium construction would have been cut in half.

That’s right! The cost of the stadium will be cut in half by PSLs! A $1.6 billion stadium — the most expensive ever, the article notes — will only cost half as much! PSLs are magic!

Actually, the cost of building the $1.6 billion stadium is $1.6 billion, you morons. It’s just a question of whose $1.6 billion is going to pay for it. And thanks to PSLs, it looks like loyal season ticket buyers are going to be on the hook for half of it!

At least the Star-Ledger’s economic idiocy isn’t as bad as the NY Daily News’ attempt at making PSLs look like they’re a favor to the fans:

The Jets and Giants are discussing a plan that would give the owners of personal seat licenses (PSLs) first dibs on concert tickets and other non-football events in the new $1.6 billion stadium, Jets owner Woody Johnson revealed Saturday.

Johnson, confirming the Jets will announce their PSL pricing plan later this month, said it may include a system for Jets and Giants PSL owners to “alternate events as they come along during the year — concerts, a tractor pull, whatever we have.”

That certainly would make PSLs more appealing for those apprehensive about shelling out thousands of dollars.

Really? If a ticket-holder comes up with thousands of dollars to help finance your football stadium, you’ll also give him first crack at tickets for a tractor pull? Awesome! Where do I sign up?

I guess it’s too much to expect the local sports sections, which rely on access to these teams, to offer anything but the party line.

This pier lights our carnival life forever

As mentioned in my previous post, we spent last Tuesday at Sea Bright, NJ and environs. Part of “environs” was Asbury Park. We went here when I was a little kid, but I don’t remember a darn thing from those trips. I mean, if I remembered anything, it would’ve been the wonderful buildings here, right?

To make sure I don’t forget this stuff in another 30+ years, I busted out my camera and took a bunch of pix. Just click through the image to see the show!

Way Down in the Hole

I spent Tuesday with my brother and his best pal down at Sea Bright, NJ, and environs. Here are a couple of pix from the beach (more to come from the aforementioned environs), and some video of my brother’s exploits. He swears that this activity wasn’t symbolic of anything:

Set List

Bruce put on a heck of a show last night, even though the awful NJ traffic left us with a 9:30pm start, rather than the unofficial 8:30 start (the tickets are for a 7:30pm start; hah!). My two observations about the band:

  1. Nils Lofgren may be shorter than Seth Green (but he had an awesome solo in Because the Night)
  2. Max Weinberg bears an unfortunate resemblance to Harold Ramis (but he drove the entire show)

Here’s the set list from the concert:

Summertime Blues

10th Ave Freeze-Out

Radio Nowhere

Prove It All Night

Two Hearts are Better than One

Promised Land

Spirit in the Night

Light of Day

Brilliant Disguise

Pretty Flamingo

Blinded by the Light

Cadillac Ranch

Candy’s Room

Night

Because the Night

She’s the One

Living in the Future

Mary’s Place

Incident on 57th St.

The Rising

Last to Die

Long Walk Home

Badlands

First Encore

Jungleland

Born to Run

Bobby Jean

Dancing in the Dark

American Land

Second Encore

Jersey Girl

Rosalita

I had a blast, especially since he kept the preaching to a minimum (unlike the time I saw him in 2003, which I don’t seem to have written about), but that late start meant that I walked in the door at home at 2:10am. Now I’m up at 5:30, taking care of the dog and I’ll bring my wife down to the bus stop in an hour. It’s humbling, given that I just watched a 59-year-old man perform for 3 hours and 15 minutes without a break.

Good thing I’m not heading into the office today!

Off to the Promised Land

Sorry about the lack of posts today, dear readers! I was getting tons of work done so I could get out of the office early, meet up with my brother, and head over to Giants Stadium for the Springsteen show! More later!

And still champ!

I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t checked the goings-on at The New York Sun. I wonder what’s in today’s Arts+ section?

  1. A review of David Lebedoff’s new book on George Orwell and Evelyn Waugh
  2. A review of Cyril Connolly’s “Enemies of Promise”
  3. A review of the best gins for G&Ts
  4. A sidebar on niche tonic-waters

I feel like Cliff Clavin on Jeopardy!, when the categories were “Civil Servants, Stamps from Around the World, Mothers and Sons, Beer, Bar Trivia, and Celibacy.”

Glad to see the Official Newspaper of Gil Roth is still earning its keep.

Flying fish will never be able to walk

Friday’s company picnic turned out to be pretty boring. The turnout was much lower than last year’s at the same location (enjoy the 2007 slideshow!). I split around 1:30 p.m. and took a nice drive through Harriman State Park for the slightly roundabout trip home.

I’m not sure why I felt so disengaged from it; I had a couple of decent conversations with coworkers, but there were few significant others on hand for the event, which meant we were spending the day with the same people we see every day in the office. The young’uns (anyone younger than me) seemed to have a good time, playing beer-wiffleball or something, but I felt kinda intruder-y among them.

I bought the new Paul Weller record last week and it occurred to me that no one in my office would have any idea who Weller was, nor would they ever have heard the Jam or the Style Council. I don’t mean that in a snobbish way; it just struck me that my time isn’t theirs.

So I hung with some of my older coworkers, but their conversation led to a spirited game of beer-pong. I knew that the only way I’d have fun at this picnic was if I started drinking, and afternoon drinking makes me pretty sluggish. As opposed to nighttime drinking, which makes me witty, vivacious and impossibly charming. And invulnerable (to criticism).

Or maybe I was hungover from the previous day’s reading of Camp Concentration. The best books can do that. Regardless, I felt utterly out of place, and so I shot hoops for a little while with the worst basketball of all time, then started my drive home. Sorry I don’t have any fun stories or good pix to post.

* * *

On the plus side, it was a weekend of new milestones for Rufus! On Friday night, I gave him full run of the upper floor of the house (sans kitchen) for 2+ hours while I picked up Amy at her train and got dinner. I have no idea how to positively house-train a dog, and I was a little nervous that he might not be familiar enough with the lower floor, so I put a gate at the top of the stairs and lit out for Radburn.

He was typically (which is to say, unbelievably) excited when we got home, and I immediately conducted a room-by-room inspection. He’d gone up on both the sofa and my chaise (I put towels down on both to, and discovered paw-shaped impressions on them), but had no accidents! I took him outside and he relieved himself for about five minutes straight. So I’m going to take that as evidence that he’s house-trained! (Not that I’ll leave him outside of his crate for a full work-day, but at least I know I can go away for a couple of hours without a problem.)

A night later, a heavy thunderstorm rolled through the area. It woke us up around 4am on Sunday morning, and I assumed that our boy had already decamped to a corner of the guest bedroom to hide. But after another flash of lightning, I noticed that he was still curled up on his bed in our room, snoozing away. Given his past reactions to thunder, I was amazed. Especially because I was ready to hide in a corner of the guest bedroom at that point.

* * *

But it was a pretty quiet weekend. I read a ton, and now I’m trying to figure out how to get back to my Monday Morning Montaigne project without carrying around an 1,100+ page hardcover of the essays, since the edition I’m reading isn’t available on the Kindle.