A special friend from beyond takes posession of the JTS tonight. However, some damn fine music is played as well, including:

1. The Stone Coyotes
2. Anthony Rankin
3. Neall Alcott
4. Sharelle
5. Whiskey Joe Leadfoot
6. Spanking Charlene

Featuring Will Kriski, Podcamp Philly, One Voice, and nonsense from Neil Bearse

Download the Show here

          I never really admitted this to you, but I have a deep, life time fascination with the dark arts. Voodoo dolls, cults, all that stuff – I find it fascinating. But as you know, I have other fascinations as well, the practice of law, music, professional sports, just to name a few. In thinking about the state of professional sports, I realized that the greatest American sports commentator of all time was none other than a short, Jewish, lawyer that represented the rights of hard working people like you and me. Sound familiar?

            In 1953, WABC in New York City asked Howard Cosell, an attorney that represented a Little League to talk on their radio show, and a nearly forty-year broadcast career was started. Mr. Cosell passed away in 1995, but his presence resonates with yours truly, for as stated, he was indeed, America's greatest sports commentator. 

            So, lets drag out the Jersey Todd Ouija Board, and see if we can't get Mr. Cosell to talk to us tonight. Now I've never done this on a podcast before, but if this is successful, the spirit of Mr. Cosell will enter my body, and I will speak his words and think his thoughts. Ok, lets lower the lights, fire up some candles, and say those ancient words.

            "Dandy Don. Ali. Branca. Alvin Garrett. Frazier. Alakazam"

            "Curry, Nemcoff, Yusi, Chapman,  Bucket, Procasticast, Alakazoo"

             Hello listeners of the Jersey Toddshow, this is Howard Cosell, coming to you from across the great unknown. Of course, it is no longer the great unknown to yours truly, because I have indeed become, what is said in the vernacular of William Shakespeare, wormfood.

             As I look across the great divide of time, and space, my eyes are once again drawn to the great contests of our day, that of the Wide World of Sports, and, frankly ladies and gentlemen, I am indeed, disgusted.

          Let us start at the top, shall we, Michael Duane Vick, born June 26, 1980, in Newport News Virginia . He, of fame of the Hokies of Virginia Tech. He, of the fame of the first pick in the 2001 draft has this week pled guilty to conspiracy in a dogfighting ring, and helping kill pit bulls. This from a man who lived in the lap of luxury, who will be now living in the lap of some biker named Bubba. This is a man, who ate off of gold plates and drank from sliver chalices, who will now have to be careful that there isn't glass in his beef-a-roni. Indeed, he is going from Versace suits to an orange jump suit.

          Vick has conceded that he has done some horrible things, which equate to the torture and death of beautiful canine animals. Indeed, heaven is filled with dog poo tonight. Vick would train these innocent animals to become fighting machines. For example, Vick had numerous dogs, I must merely surmise their names: Fido, Bronx, Frazier, Champ; and if one of the dogs didn't succeed in the sick gladiatorial arena that he had contrived, then "down goes Frazier, down goes Frazier." If another dog didn't succeed, then Vick would stick them in water and electrocute them, and indeed the dog named Bronx would be burning.

           This is a culture that celebrates and indeed tolerates criminal behavior from our athletes, rather than holding them up to a piercing spotlight of appropriate behavior. Is it any wonder that the jersey of another Virginia resident, Allen Iverson, is one of the most popular in the National Basketball League? He, of the semi automatic gun and the charges that mysteriously go away? Is it any wonder that one of the most respected and toughest players in the history of the National Hockey League, Rick Tocchet was sentenced this week for being part of a gambling ring, which of course seems less like Tony Granato and more Tony Soprano? And please, please, do not get me started once again about Barry Lamar Bonds, and his questionable use of arthritis cream. My friends, there is not one sport on our landscape right now that is without stain.

            But today, the hot, blue, CSI light is on that unexpected expectorant that has been spewed all over the National Football League. One would have to ask themselves, how have we gotten to this? The answer is very simple. I can not believe that in the small community that is the brotherhood and occasional sisterhood of the NFL, that Michael Vicks predilection to all things canine was something that was a secret. I can not believe this canine conundrum was something that just woofed its ugly head onto the owners and players. Indeed, if I knew about the possibility of this scandal for months, how long did Falcons owner Arthur Blank have a whiff of it? How long did Commissioner Godell?   Both interviewed Vick months ago. Goodell looked him in the eye and Vick denied anything to do with dog fighting. Both of the Commissioner and the owner of the Falcolns heard exactly what they wanted to hear, and let it lie like that.

            Why? Follow the money. Michael Vick sold jerseys. He sold Nikes. He sold tickets, and the league or the businesses that are part of the collective of the mass commercial power of the National Football League condoned his off the field behavior because his persona of an outlaw was exactly of such a nature that attracted those dollars in the first place. However, as opposed to those athletes who participate in the World Wrestling Entertainment, Michael Vick's bad boy personage was not a character. It was not a gimmick, and he was indeed that of what he seemed. Michael Vick is and was a bad boy.

             Indeed, he has now pled guilty to federal dog fighting charges and gambling. In December he will be sentenced to 1 to 5 years in a Federal Penitentiary. The NFL has suspended him indefinitely, which is a nice way for them not to make any additional decisions. His supporters are already barking for his return to playing professional football. Let me give some advice to Commissioner Godell regarding Michael Vick: No Reinstatement. Ever.

            Some history is in order. The NFL has a policy that one can be banned for life from the NFL for an association with gambling that discredits the league. Indeed, pro football was born as a vehicle for gambling, and its owners and players have long been connected with organized crime and gambling, according to the 1989 book Interference: How Organized Crime Influences Professional Football by investigative author

             You want some names? George Halas, founder of the Chicago Bears in the 1920s, received loans from an associate of Chicago's "Scarface" Al Capone family, says Moldea. Tim Mara, who paid $500 for the New York Giants in 1925, was a bookie. Charles W. Bidwill, "a bootlegger, gambler, racetrack owner, and an associate of the Capone mob," says Moldea, bought the Chicago Cardinals in 1933. The team is now in Arizona and still run by a Bidwill. Big-time gambler Art Rooney bought the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1933. His son still runs the team. Horse-racing enthusiast and gambler George Preston Marshall bought a team in Boston and moved it to Washington, D.C., in the 1930s, says Moldea.

           After World War II, the All-American Football Conference was formed to rival the National Football League. Many of the owners were high rollers, says Moldea. Del E. Webb was a partner in a New York team in the new league. Webb was the contractor whom mobster Bugsy Siegel handpicked to build the Flamingo, the first major hotel-casino in Vegas. Webb had a 10 percent interest in that casino and later built and owned other gambling meccas in Nevada. Ben Lindheimer, whom Moldea labels "the overlord of Chicago's racetracks," bought into a team.

            Indeed, the Kefauver Committee in the 1950's specifically stated how much the mob had an influence over professional football. So, the NFL created a "lifetime" ban provision, and left it at that. For the most part, I believe that it worked, as the mob moved to other tangential aspects: controlling the concessions, the garbage hauling and lesser known sports like the National Basketball Association.

            However, Michael Vick, even with the horrific and discrediting admission of Vick that he treated dogs like they were enemy combatants at Abu Girab, he conceded that there was a significant amount of gambling around the dog fighting arenas. I think its fair that if one were to trace the underworld of dogfighting back far enough, they would end up with some sort of major criminal enterprise.

            Vick appears to be made of money, but really like all things in life, financial stability is fleeting. Nike has ended its relationship with Vick. The Falcons are seeking $22 million back from him. He will be unable to obtain any new sponsorship of just about anything without PETA screaming like a cat underneath the tire of a mini-van. He appears to have taken the MC Hammer guide to investment and care of his friends which have all taken his money and buried the bones. He has no marketable skills other than football. So, let me ask the hypothetical question, if in two-years or three-years Michael Vick is released from prison, and seeks reinstatement in the league, and some random owner of the Raiders is willing to participate in a Federal work-release program, and we have Vick, an admitted torturer of animals, and underworld associate, it begs the question can we really trust that he's not going to throw a game just to satisfy a debt? How can we be certain that Vick isn't going to something to even further discredit the integrity of the NFL game itself?

            To put it more succinctly - Vick has already been given a long leash, and he's hung himself with it.

            This is Howard Cosell.   

            Whoa did that work….did I miss anything?