My Own "Special Comment"

Image by Travelin' Librarian via Flickr

Let me start here: I don't like Keith Olbermann. Nothing personal against the man; I have never met him. He may be a great guy if you get to know him. But as far as his current role as host of MSNBC's Countdown with Keith Olbermann, I find him to be bombastic, overbearing, self-obsessed and hypocritical.

At the same time, a part of me wants to like Olbermann. In his days across the ESPN desk from Dan Patrick many moons ago, he and Dan were easily the most entertaining, most knowledgeable sports commentators on the air; I never missed their show. He is obviously a bright man, quick-witted and, at times, honestly very funny. He is an outstanding speaker, able to use the language almost as a musical instrument.

Yet his skills are used, sadly, to perpetuate the ongoing partisan divide in this country. He is nothing more than the Left's version of Rush Limbaugh or Bill O'Reilly, constantly stirring the pot and fomenting anger and disdain among his audience against the Right. I dislike Olbermann for the same reasons that I dislike Limbaugh, O'Reilly, Beck, et al.: they each contribute mightily to the "us against them" mindset that we find ourselves in nowadays - a mindset that does our country far more harm than good.

But, in Olbermann's case, there's something more. It's the fact that he refuses to admit his role, that he does not see himself that way, but rather as some sort of messianic second coming of Edward R. Murrow, that causes me to want to kick my television in any time I watch his program. His pomposity is simply unmatched, and simply unbearable.

Yet I watch, partly because I keep hoping I'll find redeeming quality in his presentation, partly out of the "train wreck" factor ("What kind of idiocy is he going to spew tonight?"). I watch for as long as I can, until I can take no more and must turn the channel.

So it was that I found myself watching last night. I tuned in at about the halfway mark, and so was able to grit it out to the end of the program, and I'm sorry I did. Last night, Olbermann delivered another of his histrionic "Special Comments," extended editorials he prepares when something particularly goads him. You can read the transcript of last night's Special Comment here.

Again, I want to enjoy Olbermann's work. From a strictly linguistic angle, his Special Comments in particular are damn near poetic in their rhythm, structure, and evocative use of his extensive vocabulary. In content, however, their disingenuous, often factually inaccurate assertions and questionable leaps in logic drive me right up the wall!

If Olbermann is able to use his widely viewed soapbox to wax linguistic against those who get his dander up, then I hope he (and you, my readers) don't mind if I step up on my considerably smaller soapbox and, in the style of the self-appointed Master, vent my Olbermann-induced dander.

As promised, my own "Special Comment":

Mr. Olbermann, if this is, as you suggested in the opening lines of your Special Comment Monday evening, a "terrible time in American history," rest assured that you, sir, are culpable as surely as those folks you chose to call on the carpet.

Yes, you, Mr. Olbermann. You wield your Special Comment as though it were King Arthur's sword, a weapon so powerful and mighty as to only be employed in times of dire need, when the skies are bleakest with despair, and you the only one who can remove it from the stone in order to wield it. Armed, obviously, with your intelligence, skill in speaking, and penchant for the overly dramatic; armed, obviously, with your knowledge of cultural and literary touchstones; and armed, obviously, with Roget's Thesaurus, you drive your verbally acrobatic blade through the heart - what you must believe is the very black heart - of those you demonize. Indeed, you are so driven to rid the land of your enemies that you are nearly brought to tears as you speak of their heinous misdeeds, nearly brought to alarm as you consider where the roads they pave may lead, nearly brought to frenzy by your anger so strong that you spit out their names rather than speak them civilly. It is so convincing an act that those who blindly follow you, sir, are pulled into the visceral maelstrom even if they don't quite understand all the big words.

It is an act, isn't it Mr. Olbermann? Your outrage, your fervor, your nearly bursting into stage tears; it must all be done to drive home the seriousness of your message. You know just as well as Limbaugh, O'Reilly, and Beck that you can't rally your troops through factual reporting and thoughtful critique alone. You've got to let them hear the sizzle before they'll buy the steak, right Mr. Olbermann? You've got to make them FEEL it, you've got to find their hot buttons, you've got to sell it. And, just like Peter Finch as Howard Beale in the movie Network, you've got to convince them to "go to the window, open it, stick [their heads] out and yell 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!'"

You do it in small ways night in and night out, don't you Mr. Olbermann? By demeaning those who represent opposing views; by giving them diminunizing nicknames such as "Comedian" Rush Limbaugh, "Billo the Clown," and "Coultergeist;" by smugly sitting in judgment of those you declare "Best" and "Worst" Persons in the World (and how telling that your Bests are really nothing more than another round of Worsts). In doing so, you imply that you, sir, and by default, your followers, are somehow better, more civilized people. You imply that you, sir, and by default your followers, take the higher, more thoughtful road than these obvious heathens.

But, sadly, the opposite is true. You are no better, sir; no more civilized, no more thoughtful; you do not take a higher road. Instead, you hypocritically wallow in the same muck, employing the same tactics of fear-mongering, alarm-sounding hyperbole to whip your supporters into a frenzy as the tactics you decry the targets of your venom for using. Perhaps you veil it less thinly, but not by much. You shame Limbaugh for comparing President Obama to Adolph Hitler, yet you freely compare Sarah Palin with the participants in a racist lynch mob, somehow making the leap from her unfortunate "Death Panel" Facebook comment to that comparison - a comparison not based in any logical thought progression but based merely in the need to make sure your followers get mad as hell! You mock Bill O'Reilly and Lou Dobbs for not being able to "let go" of their arguments with you on their programs, yet you remind us with excruciating clockwork-like regularity of how many days it has been since President Bush declared "Mission Accomplished." You, sir, are no better than they.

You are correct about one thing, Mr. Olbermann. This is a terrible time in American history. It is a time when I find myself fearing the road we as a nation are traveling. It is a time of some the sharpest, deepest divisions in values, morals, and beliefs that I have ever seen in my 42 years. It is a time when I see the country I love being torn asunder; a time when it seems we can accomplish nothing because the partisan rift has become so deep and wide as to seem incapable of being bridged; a time when the mantra on either side seems to be that of the Hatfields and McCoys: "If'n ye ain't fer us, ye must be agin us!"

And you are also correct, sir, when you call the names of the Palins, the Becks, the Limbaughs, and others as those who should be held accountable, at least in part, for the bile that is ever eroding that partisan rift further. Though it may not seem like it based on what I have said so far, I am no apologist for the Right. I do find their tactics of fear-mongering and panic-inducing hyperbole as distasteful as you claim to.

But, Mr. Olbermann, I suggest that you take a good long look in the mirror, for you too, sir, are partially to blame. You too, sir, use many of those very same tactics while simultaneously decrying them. And, to paraphrase your own words, if someone is hurt at one of these Town Halls, pro-Reform, anti-Reform, or, most likely, as these things tend to play out in real life, sir - if the hurt befalls an innocent bystander - you will have contributed to the harm.

If you truly wish to bring about a change, a healing, in this country, I beseech you, Mr. Olbermann, to reconsider the way in which you are doing it. Sadly, however, I suspect that is not your goal. After all, you have your job to do, and that job is to get ratings. Because, sir, ratings equal dollars for that parent company you work for, don't they? And therein lies another similarity between you and those you demean, another measure of your hypocrisy: at the end of the day you too, sir, are beholden to a corporate boss, just as those you call out for serving their corporate bosses over serving the greater good.

New Wave for the New Week #22

Image via Wikipedia

Willy DeVille passed away on Friday at the age of 58, less than a month after doctors diagnosed him with pancreatic cancer.

Willy's band Mink DeVille became fixtures on the fledgling mid-70's New York Punk Rock scene by scoring a regular gig at CBGB's in 1975. Their sound epitomized that early NYC-punk vibe that was more heavily influenced by The Velvet Underground than, say, The Stooges or The MC5. In fact, Willy's vocals on early singles like "Let Me Dream if I Want To (Amphetamine Blues)" and "Spanish Stroll" sound so strongly like Lou Reed that it's almost scary.

By 1980, Mink DeVille was a band in name only; the third album released under that name, Le Chat Bleu, saw no original band members but Willy himself contribute. Willy had moved towards a more Sam-Cooke-via-Southside-Johnny sound, and was beginning to cast an eye towards mainstream acceptance.

The closest he got was on his first album under his own name, 1987's Miracle. That album included the song he recorded for the movie The Princess Bride, "Storybook Love," for which he received an Oscar nomination. But, despite hobnobbing with Mark Knopfler and other like-minded musicians, true commercial success eluded him.

Willy continued to record and play live through the end of 2008, when his health began failing. He had contracted Hepatitis C, and it was during preparation for treatment of that disease that his pancreatic cancer was discovered.

In his honor, I have chosen 1977's "Spanish Stroll" as this week's New Wave for the New Week. RIP, Willy.

Helping Out on a Local Level

We all rely on our local firefighters, police, EMTs, etc., to be there if and when we are faced with emergency. How often are we there for them when they are in need of assistance that we might be in a position to offer?

Daniel Klotz, Social Media Strategist at PA-based website company YDOP ("Your Dream, Our Project"), co-host of the Lancaster-based Beards Over Babies podcast, and fellow blogger, has launched a campaign to do just that. His simple challenge to his fellow Lancastrians is to find 130 people who are each willing to join him in donating $10 a piece to help buy some new weight-training equipment for the 28 professional firefighters who work out of Fire Station 1 at 425 West King Street here in Lancaster.

In his most recent blog entry, Klotz explains the impetus for this campaign:

"Brent Colflesh of NxtBook Media sometimes works out at a commercial gym during his lunch breaks with some firefighters from Fire Station 1 in Lancaster city, and he told me about a crummy situation:

If you’re a volunteer firefighter, most gyms will give you a free membership. If you’re a professional firefighter, most gyms will not.

That stinks. What’s more, the firefighters of Station 1 work shifts of 10 to 14 hours at a time. They practically live out of the station. When they’re there, they can’t leave except on a call."

I know that I am fortunate to have readers from all over, but I also know that a large segment of my readership is local. It is you local readers whom I ask to seriously consider donating what you can to help out. Your donations will go towards the purchase of training equipment customized for the firehouse, pictured below:




You can read more at Daniel's blog here, or donate securely using either PayPal or credit card through the widget provided below.



Thanks for helping out on this very worthwhile local cause.

New Wave for the New Week #21

Cover of Mood Swing

Boulder, Colorado's contribution to the New Wave scene, The Nails, are another one of those one-hit New Wave wonders. They were the band that gave us the wonderfully salacious, just-this-side-of-vulgar "88 Lines About 44 Women," a song that has become something of a staple of retro New Wave playlists over the past two decades.

Propelled by an insistent bass line and what sounds like a pre-programmed Casio keyboard rhythm track, "88 Lines About 44 Women" is exactly that: a series of descriptive couplets about the women in the singer's life. Some seem forced to keep the rhyming scheme in place, but most are skillfully written, funny, and so descriptive that you may find yourself saying "I KNOW a girl like that!" Indeed, back in my college days, it was something of an amusement to come up with our own "88 Lines" couplets about the women we knew.

There never was a proper promo video for the song, although one of the original band members, singer Marc Campbell, created his own clip for the song just this year. You can see his creation on The Nail's official website here. For the purposes of this post, since there was no clip at the time, you can listen to the song here:



The Nails were not without videos, though. Their wonderful 1984 album Mood Swing spawned two clips, one for "Home of the Brave" and this one, for their spot-on cover of The Hombres' 1967 hit "Let It Out (Let It All Hang Out)." The Nail's version uses only the parenthetical title, "Let It All Hang Out," but otherwise stays true to the original.

So here is The Nails' video for "Let It All Hang Out," and, as a bonus, a chance for you to hear the original to compare. Enjoy!

New Wave for the New Week #20

The Members via last.fm

Most people in the US who know of The Members know of one song, "Working Girl," which was a heavy-rotation clip in the earliest days of MTV. The scenes of a poolside party with band and guests being shoved fully-clothed into the water were used in numerous station promos, and the ultra-catchy chorus made it a minor hit.

It was also the last release for a band that had been around since 1976, when Nicky Tesco formed The Members with some of his buds in Cambridge, England, during the early days of the Punk Rock scene there. From the start, the band was fraught with internal dissent and external apathy. A churning lineup of musicians and a decent but not particularly individual sound saw the three albums they released during their six year lifespan sell much more poorly then hoped for, despite the fact that the band had delivered a couple of ace singles, including the aforementioned "Working Girl," the reggae-influenced "Offshore Banking Business," and this week's New Wave for the New Week Entry, 1978's "The Sound of the Suburbs".

"The Sound of the Suburbs" flew up the UK singles chart, reaching #12, a success they would never again match in their homeland. It's a wonderful slice of early pre-hardcore, pre-Oi Punk, and sounds not just a little bit like early Clash.

Tesco quit the band in 1983, and that was it for The Members. Recently, the band reformed without Tesco, and have recorded a new single, a rewrite of "Offshore Banking Business" with lyrics dealing with the current state of the world economy, retitled "International Financial Crisis." Leaning more heavily on a dub-reggae sound and without Nicky Tesco's input, it falls a little bit flat to my ears. Apparently, a tour is in the works.

Here, then, is the performance clip for this week's NW4NW entry, "The Sound of the Suburbs" by The Members:



BONUS CLIP: Their best known song in America, 1982's "Working Girl"

Post #100

Holy cow, I've reached the 100-post milestone!

I started doing this blog in December of 2008 (December 13th, to be precise). My initial purpose was to create for myself a reason to write more regularly. Throughout my life, family, friends and co-workers have always pushed me to write more, and even though I write quite a bit and enjoy it immensely, I can be very lazy about it, too.

I would love to be able to sustain myself completely as a writer, but in order to find someone willing to pay me, I need to actually write. The thing about those who hire writers is they like to see a portfolio. Why they won't just take my word for it that I can write pretty well, I don't know. I'm a trustworthy guy.

So, I began the blog, and over the past seven months I have been blessed by what seems (according to Google Analytics, anyway) to be a steadily growing readership. Thank you, each and every one of you. You drive me to want to write more and to want to improve.

If I would change one thing about you, my readership, it is that I would ask you for more feedback. My pride swells when I check the stats and see the number of hits each new post gets. I know you're there, reading; I know many of you come back and read more. Yet, seldom do any of you comment on what I've written. Perhaps that's my fault. Perhaps I don't write material that begs comment.

I do value your feedback though. By telling me what you like and don't like, what you find interesting and what you find dull about my posts, you would help me refine both this blog and my abilities as a writer, and for that I would be eternally grateful. So, on this, the 100th post, I will ask you directly for feedback.

Below is a six-question survey I would like to ask you to respond to, please. I'll also ask for feedback in the comments section: what would you like to see more of? Less of? What am I doing well and where do I need to improve?

Again, thank you for reading. I will do my best to continue to provide content that is enjoyable and, with your help, continually improving. And thank you for taking a moment to respond below. It means a lot to me.

My Ballot Box

How often do you read this blog? Often - every time there is a new post! Occasionally - if I think of it. Rarely - only when a post's title happens to catch my eye. Never - I just stumbled across this blog today!

How do you get updated about this blog's posts? I signed up for the email updates. I subscribed to the RSS feed. I watch for your posts on Facebook or Twitter announcing new content. I have the blog bookmarked and check in regularly. Other (describe in a comment, please).

What type of posts do you most enjoy here? New Wave for the New Week Concert reviews Baseball / Phillies Politics / Pop Culture Local (Lancaster, PA)

Do you like the hodge-podge approach, or would you rather see me split this blog into several subject-specific blogs? I like the hodge-podge! Keep it as it is! I hate the hodge-podge! Split it into subject-specific blogs!

Do you visit any of the blogs I have listed in the "I Read These Blogs Regularly" section? Yes (please leave a comment mentioning which ones) No

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New Wave for the New Week #19

Back in 1997, the folks at Volkswagon put together a commercial that used a very simplistic plinking melody and a monotone nonsense vocal as its jingle. The first time I saw the commercial, I did a double-take: I couldn't believe what I was hearing being used to sell cars to mainstream America! I remember some friends of mine at the time, who did not share my tastes in music, laughing and saying "imagine if that was a real song!"

I invited those friends over one evening, went to the record wall, pulled out an EP by the German band Trio, and watched their jaws drop as I played "Da Da Da (I Don't Love You You Don't Love Me Aha Aha Aha)." It WAS a real song, and in fact was 15 years old by that point!

I didn't think, after that, that I could ever be as shocked by the song in a commercial again. Then, this past week, I saw the new commercial for the Palm Pre smartphone. Again, I did the double-take, this time for an intricate, ethereal, delicate melody that I hadn't heard outside of my own music collection in almost a quarter of a century.

Palm Pre is using Freur's 1983 single "Doot Doot" to sell smartphones!

Freur was a relatively obscure Welsh art-wave band that began life with a name that was an unpronounceable squiggle (years before Prince stole the idea). Of course, no record company is going to stand for that! After all, how can you sell records if the radio DJs can't say the band's name? So in the interest of commercialism, the band came up with the only slightly more pronounceable Freur, and saw their first single, "Doot Doot" receive enough airplay in the UK to reach the lower tier of the singles charts there; and enough airplay on college stations and even MTV in the USA to at least garner some attention.

Freur's original unpronounceable squiggle
It is a beautiful recording, soothing and melodious, soaring and majestic. Nothing else they ever recorded came close to this level of songwriting, and after two albums, they were gone, apparently banished to the forgotten dusty corners of the collective New Wave memory bank, until the folks at Palm Pre decided to revive it.

Kind of ironic, the band whose original name was so utterly uncommercial winds up being the focus of a commercial 26 years later. Still, it's great to think that a whole new generation is getting to hear this song.

So, if any of your friends mention the tune in the Palm Pre commercial and wonder what it would be like if it was a "real song", send them the link to this post, because here is this week's NW4NW entry, Freur's "Doot Doot". And, as a bonus video, an early recording of the song with the original Welsh lyrics. Sing along:

The New Customer Service

A couple years back, my family and I stopped at a local Friendly's for ice cream. I decided on their most wondrous creation, the Reese's Pieces Sundae. It's huge, it's decadent, it's wonderful, and I hadn't had one since my high school days, so that's what I ordered. A few minutes later our waitress brought our sundaes to the table, and in front of me she sat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Sundae.

"Excuse me," I spoke up, "but this is not what I ordered."

"I know," she replied, and left offering no further explanation, nor making any effort to correct the situation.

I sat stunned as the rest of my family burst into laughter. When she came back again, I repeated that the sundae she had delivered was not what I ordered. "Do you mean you want me to have them make a whole new sundae?" she asked, her tone of voice making it clear that this would be a huge inconvenience. Yes, that's what I wanted, but rather than risk having a Reese's Pieces & Spit Sundae brought to me, I decided I would eat what I was given. Within another five minutes, our waitress reappeared once more, this time with a small paper cup filled with Reese's Pieces. "Here, you should at least have these," she smiled as she put them in front of me, and left again before I could even respond to the bizarre situation.

And that's where it ended. She made no real effort to replace the incorrect sundae with what I had actually ordered, and never once apologized for the error. She could not be bothered to either do her job correctly or remedy the situation once her error had been pointed out. The customer service here was non-existent.

Over the years, this has come to be a running a joke with my family: "Let's go to Friendly's and see if we can actually get what we order." The complete lack of customer service, coupled with the complete obliviousness to the inconvenience she created, was one of those once-in-a-lifetime situations, right?

Umm...

I had an appointment with my doctor this afternoon. As per usual, after the visit was complete, the doctor sent me out to the front desk to have one of the office staff schedule my next visit and set up a schedule for some tests I must have done. I always make certain to get a receipt for each visit, so that when my insurance statements come in I can reconcile and make sure everything is as it should be.

I asked the girl at the desk for my receipt, and she began entering stuff into her computer. Suddenly, a confused look came over her face.

"Were you here today?" she asked.

"Yes," I slowly began to reply, a bit taken aback by the question. "I just finished with the doctor."

"Were you here twice today?"

What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I wasn't there twice, but all I could say in the moment was, "I don't even know how to respond to that question."

"Because I see today's date on here twice..." she trailed off, and then printed out a sheet of paper which she handed to me. "Now, this is your receipt, but it's not correct," she declared, indicating that, in her mind, our transaction was complete.

Instead of handing me a receipt for a doctor's visit, she handed me a receipt for a doctor's visit plus a urinalysis plus another procedure plus a VISA credit...a laundry list of things that did not occur during my visit.

"These charges aren't mine!" I stammered.

"Yes, I know," she smiled - same tone of voice, same "this is all I'm going to do for you" attitude as the Friendly's waitress years ago. But this time, I wasn't going to be cowed so easily!

"May have a correct receipt?" I asked, my voice underscoring my displeasure.

She looked stunned that I would ask for this. "OK, let me see if I can find the error," she sighed as she began combing through pile after pile of receipts - obviously the day's appointments.

Once through the stack. Twice through the stack. Third time through, I piped up again: "Maybe it would be easier to fix my receipt by taking off the charges that don't belong to me."

"But I can't remove charges," she stated matter-of-factly. "Only the accounts manager can do that." She resumed plowing through her stack of papers.

After almost twenty minutes, she triumphantly pulled out one paper. "Here it is!" There had been another patient that day also named Bryan (with a vastly different last name), and his charges had been inadvertently put on my account. Then she added, "But, I can't fix it, because I can't take charges off."

I measured my words so as not to scream at this lady for wasting nearly half an hour of my time. I very slowly and clearly said, "I would like a correct receipt for my appointment, please."

"But, I can't do that," she maintained.

"Then, please call whomever you need to call, or do whatever you need to do to have someone fix it. I understand that there was an error, but that's your concern. I would like to have a correct receipt."

"But I don't have her number!"

"Then you need to contact someone whose number you do have, who can fix this."

Another sigh. Then, she picks up the phone to call the office manager (she has the office manager's number, but not the accounts manager's?). I hear her leave a message.

"She's not home," she dutifully reported to me.

"So how do you intend to fix this?" I asked.

"Well, you can either wait here until she calls back, or you can come back tomorrow for a corrected receipt."

It was pulling teeth to get that far with her. In the end, I left without a corrected receipt; only with the promise that I will be called tomorrow morning to be told the corrections have been made and to make arrangements to have the corrected receipt delivered to me.

Again, there was no effort made towards customer service. She would have been perfectly content to send me off with an incorrect receipt containing someone else's charges, just as the waitress at Friendly's was perfectly content to present me with something other than what I ordered. No thought crossed either of their minds that the inconvenience to me, the customer, might not be best for business. No effort made of their own volition on either part to actually correct the situation; indeed, each saw the little they did do to be an imposition on their time rather than a service to the customer.

As I was writing this post, my phone rang. It was the lady from the doctor's office. She called to tell me that she had forgotten to indicate some of the blood tests the doctor wants done on my test order form, so she wanted to know where I was going to have that work done so that she could fax the additional test requests there as well. Her reason for forgetting to indicate those tests? "Well, you had me a little flustered earlier."

Oh. I see. It was MY fault. Could there have been a more perfect postscript to the story? Sigh...

New Wave for the New Week #18

Cover of Desperate

Some bands are fated to toil away in obscurity making wonderful music, to have their only taste of mainstream success come in the form of a song so unbefitting it's almost comically sad. Such a fate was that of Australia's Divinyls.

To most people, if they even remember that band name at all, the one song that they know is the shock-hit "I Touch Myself," which was their only visit to the American record charts, climbing all the way to #4. It's an OK, if too-purposefully titillating, single - but for that to be all Divinyls would be remembered for is a disservice to a solid band with a number of very good records under their belt.

Based from the start around the duo of Christina Amphlett and Mark McEntee, Divinyls first made noise in their native land around 1980. Their first release, an EP of music created for the movie Monkey Grip, included two wonderful singles. "Boys in Town" and "Only Lonely" got the band noticed quickly, both charting in the top 20 in Australia. Both songs were included on their debut album, Desperate, the following year, along with their third single and this week's entry, "Science Fiction."

The band continued their Australian success with two more albums and a few more charting singles, including "Pleasure and Pain" (1985) and "Hey Little Boy" (a 1988 reworking of The Syndicate of Sound's 1966 garage stomper "Hey Little Girl").

Despite their growing reputation and a fair amount of play on MTV, their breakthrough seemed like it would never happen until that 1991 smash. Another record followed with little publicity, and Amphlett and McEntee went their separate ways.

This week, enjoy Divinyls as they should have been remembered with their entry in the NW4NW series, "Science Fiction," which was named one of the top 30 Australian songs of all time by APRA (Australian Performing Rights Association).

22 - 1

Image by Getty Images via Daylife

Boy, this was nice to see!

The Phillies achieved the baseball equivalent of stomping a mud hole in their opponents and walking it dry this evening, defeating the Cincinnati Reds by 21 runs, 22-1! Bookending the attack with a 10-run first inning and a 6-run eighth, the Phils hit four homeruns, including a grand-slam from Jayson Werth. The team pounded out a season-high 21 hits, including a 3-for-4 night with two walks for the finally rejuvenated Jimmy Rollins.

On a night where the Phils were campaigning to have CF Shane Victorino voted into the All-Star Game next Tuesday alongside fellow Phillie All-Stars Ryan Howard, Chase Utley and Raul Ibanez (even the ball girls were dressed in Hawaiian shirts in support of Victorino!), Shane himself started the scoring with a two-run homerun in the first inning, following a lead-off walk to Rollins. Greg Dobbs added a two-run homerun, and Utley a three-run blast before the first inning was over. Starting pitcher Cole Hamels contributed a two-run double to the opening frame's festivites, marking the fourth time in club history the Phils have opened with a 10-spot.

For the Reds, it was not a good night at all. 5 hits and 1 run (on a Jonny Gomes homerun in the 2nd) were all they could muster, and by the end of the night backup shortstop Paul Janish was pitching. It was Janish who threw the grand slam ball to Werth; Janish gave up 6 earned runs in his single inning on the mound, giving the position player a lifetime ERA of 49.50!

The Phils had not scored this many runs in a single game since scoring 26 runs against the New York Mets on June 11, 1985.

It was especially nice to see this kind of offensive display happen at home this year, where the Phillies have not been playing well. My only hope is that this doesn't foretell another offensive drought - this team has been known to slug out a huge burst of offense like this and then fall dormant in hitting for a stretch. Last year they had a 20-run game vs. the St. Louis Cardinals and then did nothing for a considerable stretch; I'd hate to see that happen again.

Rather, I'm hoping that this game, coming on the heels of a sweep of Mets, is a sign of building momentum that they can carry through the All-Star break and into a successful second half. Regardless, it was an awfully fun game for a lifelong Phillies fan like me to watch!

Check out the box score here.