I'm off to the Portable Media Expo. It was somewhat of a shock to me, too. But I got a cheap flight, and it looks like a lot of fun.

Hope everyone has a great time. I just want to know where I need to go to change my money.

AHHHH - I'm Back!!! What a crazy autumn its been! But I'm back with a vengance. Featuring:

1. Endeverafter
2. The FUMP
3. Mubashir Noor
4. Art Linton
5. Nuru Lain
6. Katrina Carlson

Intro: .... living in a loop?

Check out Trucker Tom, Joe Colledge, and Jaan's World

Listen to the show here

       While everyone was off partying at Podcamp Philly, I went to work on Saturday morning. While everyone was out drinking, and eating cheesesteaks, I was, what's the word, asked, by my wife to go to an Art exhibit for a very old and dear friend. Now, don't get me started about art exhibits, they do absolutely nothing for me.  I mean, come on, one person's crap is another person's la-di-da exhibit. But that's a talk for another day, because as all things lately, my main job was to keep an eye out on the original podsafe baby, Jersey Charlie. Except, Jersey Charlie isn't as simple as when I used to hold him on my lap and do a podcast while he sucked on a pacifier. Nope, the kid has a case of the full blown, pre-prepubescent, case of the terrible, terrible twos. Its not that bad, actually, as long as you can watch the same episode of the Backyardigans a hundred times.

             However, we are also, in the potty-training stage, which is wonderful. I mean sort of, kind of. You know what I mean. Not to permanently scar Charlie, but hey, this podcast is just going to stay around on the internet for, oh, I don't know, forever, we're at the stage right now where he's starting to get the idea of it all. So we're at this art exhibit, at Mercer County College this weekend. Now, let me explain Mercer County College. Apparently, in New Jersey, there was about a week where every county got a boat load of money to build these community colleges, because they all look exactly the same, which is to say that I've been in prisons with more charm. But that being said, they are generally pretty decent facilities, and some kick ass hamburgers. They all have that smell, like, like the first day of gym class, and everyone just found out over the summer that maybe that its time to invest in deodorant.

             Charlie gives me the, "I need to go Potty" signal, which is as subtle as Britney Spears' underwear, and I take him to the very public bathroom. Thank goodness that it was empty. Charlie then gives me the, I need to take my pants off. Check. I need to take my diaper off. Well. I need to take my shoes and socks off. Well hold on there little fella. You see, I have no desire to spread my own problems on him, but I have a real problem with public restrooms. Some people have a problem with spiders, or snakes, or podcasters with a lisp, but me, it has been and continues to be public bathrooms. So, like any good dad, I didn't want to put my own phobias on him, and he did the deed and we moved on with our life.

             But the whole episode got me thinking, damn, I really do not like public restrooms, and damn, how quickly has this Senator Craig thing dropped off our national radar. The whole thing with Senator Larry Craig from Idaho is that he pled guilty to a misdemeanor crime for allegedly trying to pick up another guy in a men's bathroom in Minnesota. Now, Craig says that he wasn't and isn't gay, and wasn't trying to pick anyone up in the bathroom, just that he had a wide stance and was reaching for a piece of toilet paper when he bumped into his seat mate. On September 1, 2007, he indicated that he was going to resign from the Senate, because apparently, its ok to be a gay Senator, but its not ok to have bad dating form. Whatever. The last we heard from Senator Craig, he has threatened to try to overturn the conviction and to stay in DC.

             Now I have so many problems with this story. Like any good lawyer, let me argue out of both sides of my mouth. First of all, please Senator Craig. Please. Who are you kidding. Holy Jesse Ventura, but are you saying that the Police in Minnesota contrived s a sting operation on just you. Are you really saying that the Judge that you appeared before in that Minnesota Court room was so corrupt that when you entered a plea of guilty and paid a fine just rubber stamped it? Please. I've appeared in New Jersey Municipal Court a billion times. Without saying anything negative, lets just say this, I judge the quality of the Court experience by the floors in the Court. Federal Courts, a lot of wood, a lot of high end carpet. State Courts, that industrial kind of one ply carpet, and well, Municipal Courts have a ton of lineolum. But that being said, there are some fantastic Judges in municipal Court, and when you plead guilty to a reduced charge, you have to go in front of the Judge and tell the Judge what exactly you did wrong so the Judge has a reasonable basis to believe that you aren't getting rail roaded. That's in the Constitution, and although the Republican'ts are treading on it like it is a welcome mat at an Alaskan truck stop, it still applies to even them. Right Scooter?

                 Nonetheless, I am shocked, shocked, shocked that none of the reputable journalistic sites like The Smoking Gun or Drudge haven't spent the $100 to get a copy of Senator Craig's transcript on an Open Public Records Request. Hmm…maybe they need a spunky little Joisey lawyer on their staff. But somewhere along the line, Senator Craig convinced some Judge that a plea of lewd conduct was appropriate. Now, he has made a motion to withdraw the guilty plea stating that it was not knowing nor intelligent. Now I can certainly believe, based on Senator Craig's track record that it wasn't intelligent, but he certainly knew what he was doing. He was trying to flush this down the toilet as quickly and effectively as one of those sensor thingies, but like one of those little tiny nuggets that the flush won't take this story just wouldn't go down the drain.

            Senator Craig's excuse for what happened in this bathroom is as flimsy as the one-ply toilet paper that he allegedly was trying to pick up. We see this, and in front of a reasonable jury of his peers, Senator Craig has as believable a defense as OJ's "what stays in Vegas, should stay in Vegas" and oh, by the way, OJ, looks like you'll be staying in Vegas, too.

                 But, lets look at this with an open mind and an open heart, shall we. Lets look at this as reasonable people dealing with a reasonable person. I hate to do this, because I think I'd get as much of a word in edgewise as I would if Larry King took me out to lunch to talk about the good-old-days. Oh, Larry, it's a turkey on rye and a Dr. Browns, call me.

                 That being said, lets think about this. What if Senator Craig does have a valid defense. Unlike those at Guantanamo he does have the right to a trial, and the right to present witnesses in his own defense. What if he really was just sitting in  toilet tapping his feet, and some over zealous cop thought that he was trying to pick him up. Jeez, as I told you, I hate pooping in public bathrooms more than anyone, and now I have to worry that when I'm taking a dump listening to my Ipod, that I could get arrested for tapping my feet to "My Sharona", which of course is the international gay morse code for, hey, baby, how you doin'?            

                In all seriousness, if a United States Senator can feel that he is being railroaded into a criminal conviction, and just tries to plea it out, what does that really say about you and me? What does 3that say about our freedoms the minute we walk into an airport? And that's just in an airport…what is this country going to look like if there is a major terrorist activity at, say, a mall, or a movie theater. Senator Craig, gay or not, folder or scruntcher, is a perfect example of where your rights are headed.

            At the end of the day, I don't care what Larry Craig was trying to pick up that day, but what smells worse than Larry Craig's business in the public bathroom was his decision to save a few bucks by not calling a lawyer

                 That's absolutely criminal.

....are greatly exaggerated. However, I know what you're thinking: where the hell has this guy gone? Right now we are in the thralls of back-to-school, teething, and some work issues. Once I get life back on schedule, I look forward to getting a new show out.

However, right now, I'm toast.

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?

Check out Adam Curry's Podfinder today, and listen to a special episode regarding "Lawyers, Guns, and Monet."