Philly Media Sports’s (PMS) Weblog

Ike Reese + Bad Signs at the Bank + Fire the Sarge (as always)

Posted in Uncategorized by phillymediasports on June 12, 2008

Ike Reese – Just Another WIP Jerk

This is being inserted on October 28, 2009. Have you ever heard a more awkward, more uncomfortable pairing on WIP than Eskin and Ike? Oh my, it’s really awful. They don’t fit together at all.  The Esk just dominates Ike, who, after all, is still a rookie and who will never catch up to The Esk’s acumen and savvy. If the ratings were down before the move, they’re going to seem like “up” to me as the Arbitron’s are surely going to plummet. There’s no doubt about it. The suits blew this one.

Ike Reese, former Eagles special teams star, has been an impressive rookie on WIP.  “Ike at Night,” from 7-10PM, has been surprisingly entertaining. Not just another jock boring us with retiree-spouting jock-speak, not just another tongue-tied interchageable sports senior citizen mouthing homilies, Reese has been impressive, displaying a wide knowledge of the national sports scene, while offering cogent commentary, along with a welcoming presence to listeners.

That’s why it was so incredibly disappointing to hear him disparage Phillies pitcher, Tom “Flash” Gordon, in the most trashy and despicable way.  Nice work, Ike.  Congratulations for passing muster as just another tool of WIP, radio talk show station of idiots for idiots.

Last night (June 11), Gordon came into pitch the 9th inning of a 2-2 game against the Marlins.  Gordon was wild, loaded the bases, and gave up a devastating walk-off grand slam to Dan Uggla.  The Phillies lose. The Phillies lose.

How did Reese respond to that moment of misfortune? By referring to Gordon as Tom “Flush” Gordon. I thought I misheard until Reese said it again, and over again. Tom Flush Gordon – what a knee slapper. Ho-Ho- Ho, Ike. So Clever. So Brilliant!  Welcome to the dirty toilet bowl of WIP pre-pubescent humor. Ah, WIP, first in our hearts, last in our bowels.

Well, not only did Reese earn his Vulgarity stripes, he earned a cluster for accompanying his “Flush” slur, conspiring with his engineer by playing the sound of a toilet flushing. And let me tell you, Dear Reader, it was an ever so long flush – really, really, really loonnnnggg. Ho-Ho-Ho, Ike. Wow-Pow-Zowie. Oh, such unadulterated comedy.  Such willy nilly silliness. Such a nifty imagination. Belly laughs all around.  Ah, Ike, you coulda been a “contendah.” I suppose WIP will now launch a campaign along the lines of “Be Like Ike …. and Don’t Forget to Flush!  And Don’t Forget to Wipe!!” Oh, Oh, Oh, My, My My, I’m funny, too.  Just like Ike.

Visual Clutter at the Bank (Click on photos above.)

When I attended a recent Phils game, I was struck (in the eyes) by some pretty awful images.  The big scoreboard is so crowded that you don’t know where to look. The visual stew is inedible, just like those Hatfield doggies. I mean, take a look at that jumble. Stars, number signs, text all over the place. Everything bumping into everything else.  What’s the point of writing the pitcher’s name twice, the second time in caps? Just for fun, try looking up from the game action to locate the balls and strikes numbers. Try to spot them before the next pitch. Bet you a Hatfield doggie you can’t.

Oh, and where do you have to look for pitch speed?  Deep in the rightfield corner, where those numbers are surrounded by more visual clutter – a phalanx of out of town MINOR LEAGUE scores.  I’m not talking about just Phillies farm teams, but a whole array of teams I’ve never heard of and wouldn’t ever want to hear of.

Call me picky, but another thing I don’t like is that the pictures of the opposing team players are shown in their home uniforms.  What’s with that?  They are not our homies. No, they are visitors and their photos should be in their grey road unis.

But if you’re looking for something less opinionated and more of an undisputed fact, take a walk down Ashburn Alley and check out the sign with an arrow pointing to the “Mens Restroom.”  Hello.  May I have an apostrophe, Pat? As in MEN’S. Or take a look at the SECTIONS numbers. There’s a useless comma after 111, and the 148 isn’t centered under the 111.  Not just sloppy folks, but stupid and incompetent.  Makes you wonder about management’s attention to detail.  Makes you understand why the Triple A iron Pigs are stocked with cast-off 35 year olds instead of promising players in their early 20s.

Fire Gary Matthews (Have mercy on our ears)

The stumbling stupidities and inane idiocies of Gary Matthews continue to pile up.  Rather than to re-count another long list of useless and dim-witted narrative, I’ll offer my first Viewer Challenge.  Take a listen to what words Matthews emphasizes as he speaks.  It’s almost always the wrong WORD.  Moreover, he’ll often pause for emphasis before “actually” emphasizing the wrong WORD.  Give it a try, and I’ll list a few of my own Matthews’ gems in my next post.

P.S.  Just in case you think I forgot, I ask you, “Who Is Rob Brooks and Why He Should Be Fired NOW!!”

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2 Responses

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  1. Lee Jone said, on June 14, 2008 at 8:49 am

    Concerning the “Visual Clutter” chapter of your intriguing post dear sir–what we have at the Citizen’s Park is what I like to call “visual extremism”–it goes hand-in-hand with other extremes in our world (i.e.) extreme sports, extreme video, extreme machines like the Hummer, whose operators wear extreme deodorant for energy infused bodies. We’ve lost so much touch with who we are–where and what are bodies have become– that we over-substitute and overbuild our environment to declare ourselves. In the 60’s, Robert Venturi celebrated this phenomenon in his theories of architecture which celebrate the building as a sign and monument–Venturi is a Philly boy–it would be interesting to hear his take on the visual calamity at the Vet…er Citizen’s Park

    Even the most insignificant structure can illuminate, glow or blink out the significant one. Messages at Citizen’s Park are just not overstated but extremely expressed in multiple fields of vision (screens) that move appear and reappear with no apparent design. We are a manic culture, unsure of what we are saying, how we are saying it–in what context and to whom. The problem is entwined in our inabilities to communicate visually. We’ve lost our relationship to the essential design elements of visual communication (form, rhythm, scale, space, line and color) and we cover-up our inabilities with macho boldness, improper formatting, scale incompetencies and color theories of machines (web fiascos of indexable and assignable values). It is an utter mess. A recent trip to the Wilmington Blue Rocks stadium was a visual nightmare–sign upon sign stacked in the outfield. We couldn’t see the fence. How far did the ball travel. There was no beginning, nor end. However, head south on 95 to Aberdeen and you will see a subtler place, a throwback of sorts–a real ballpark, where the actual ball can be tracked by the fans to the outfielder, even over the fence. Plus a crabcake, I believe, beats dollar 3D glasses which were desperately hawked as “necessities” for fireworks at Judy Johnson field in Delaware. Fireworks weren’t enough without a lens I gather. Let’s layer another filter on our world we so desperately have lost touch with.

    Maybe you can blame the full-scale removal of art from current American K-12 curricula, or the schizophrenic design of messages on screens– the multi-motion graphics of tv where text that does not move is not read, frankenstein graphic design on the web where everything is a quick fix plug-in, and the mediocrity of photography, where images have become candy.

    Although machines, such as the computer have become better production tools, they have stunted the development of our understanding of design. We have access to millions of letterforms (fonts) and make our choice on what’s first available. We would rather specify a font than create one. Visual communication is caught in the flux of middle america, where bigger is better and everyone has home theatres to celebrate the doom–this apocalypse of visual design. Where are our hand-painted signs, and smart quotes? Ellen Lupton calls these “type crimes”, crimes against typography

    Where are our bodies in this visual space? Detached. Dislocated. Delirious. Ludwig Wittgenstein said “the limits of our language are the limits of our mind”–let’s check what volume of space the brain occupies in the extreme cranium.e

  2. hauplepeaxady said, on December 10, 2009 at 2:55 pm

    I highly enjoyed reading this post, keep up making such interesting articles!!


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