'not for profit' in Bud's house

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This is one of those examples referred to earlier in the week of how this smalltown newspaper does not generally provide on-line mirrored coverage of it's daily hard copy print. For the time being, a hint of this story can be found at the home page, with photo, but the story itself is not presently accessible on-line and requires one to read first hand from the hard copy version. By this time tomorrow, I can only guess that if one were to visit the same home page, there will no longer be even the an on-line hint of this otherwise hardcopy story. For this reason I'm also providing the link/url to the photo that presently accompanies the on-line hint to this hardcopy story in hopes that this will help to allow this post to make a bit more sense for somebody who happens to read it at any time later than today, 6:00 PM, Altoona time, 051807.

Here is the cutNpasted caption that accompanied the above photo on the on-line hint of this story:

Photo By: Mirror photo by Gary M. Baranec)
Georgie and Bill Logue of Woodbury work one of the concession stands Wednesday at Blair County Ballpark. They are volunteers with Daughters of the Nile, the women’s branch of the Shriners.

This Wednesday past, I took advantage of the opportunity to spend a day in the park with dear old dad. The park in question is otherwise known, locally, as the House that Bud built AKA> BCB- Blair County Ballpark. Before anyone gets the idea that this post is only about my negative observations of this day in the park, I'll say for the record that overall, even though the main event was eventually washed out as I had predicuted "due to rain", the 3.5 hours I spent in the park, with dear old dad, gave me opportunity to observe a number of things, all amid the backdrop of an exceptionally pleasant (70 degrees) mid-spring early morning that in large part, for me, and despite the nuisance sprinkles, was itself an enjoyable situation. I'll leave it up to the reader to decide for themselves the observations that I highlight here that may or may not be all together that positive.  

On this particular day, the schedule of events at BCB was earilier than is traditional for this particular kind of park, owing in large part to the fact that it is now mid - May, a time when the kids are itching to be out of school for the summer. In the fasion of modern marketing at it's finest, the home games during the month of May traditionally features a good dose of scheduled "kids days" IE> "field trip" IE> state-sponsored "playing hooky", IE> "package deals between the group owning BCB and schools throughout 3 or 4 nearby counties, mom N dad approved, of course :) As it turns out, the effort for the modern establishment to keep up appearances "doing things for the kids" played a notable role in the observations I have from this day in the park. The backdrop to this day's events, the main feature event hosted regularly at BCB and from which all the other accoutrements of sideshow attractins & features spring forth and thereby owe allegiance, is smalltown AA professional baseball. It might not hurt to keep somewhere nearby in the back on one's thoughts the somewhat cartoonish images stirred up by the likes of Bull Durham, Major League, and the like of present-era pop culture, hollywood style.   

First, some relevant recent history. In the late 90s, MLB expanded with the addition of 2 new professional baseball franchises. To the general populous who may not be all that concerned with how the world of professional baseball turns, the way the collective political/corporate/enterprising-system works these days is that there is an obligatory multi-tiered  trickle-down effect caused by the creation of these 2 new MLB franchises; IE> the need to generate 2 new franchises each for A, AA and AAA minor-league baseball. Who knew, right? Who cares, right? ;) At the end of this particular professional politics day, there was already a shoe in city (Portland, Maine, I believe)  for 1 of the 2 new AA franchises to be awarded. Initially, it appeared that the politicians in and around Springfiled, Massachusetts had brought home this (the second of the two new minor-leage franchies) particular pork to their smalltown pork-eating constituants. Alas, a political snag ensued for Springfield.... where's a Home Simpson when one reeeeeeeeally needed one? . Quoting directly from page 24 of BCB 2007 Gameday guide, handed out free of charge to those entering the gates of BCB, wherin is portrayed a version of Altoona Curve Franchise History:  

Enter (Altoona) native Bob Lozinak, Bedford developer Tate DeWeese, and a group of PA Lawmakers ..... who put together an 11th hour stadium financing package....presented to the expansion committee at an October, 05, 1997 meeting in Las Vegas. It received unanimous approval and double-A baseball was on it's way to Altoona.

Some of you older folks may remember the name Bud Shuster. Until 2001, he was formally a career federal politician who officially spent 29 years in the U.S. House of Representatives, out of the Everett (Bedord County) district of Pennsylvania. Bedfor County, the town of Everett and other nearby small towns are also planted in the depths of rural Pennsylvania. However, if one should happen to travel in the nearby area, they will get glimpses of the Bud's legacy should they happen to steer their vehicles onto Bud Shuster Highway (since renamed & federally reframed to be forever federally maintained & funded as I99). When one is on I99, which is also known as Old 220 and bypassing the greater metropolis of Everett, Pennsylvania (approximate population: 6,000) one may either pass by OR end up on Bud Shuster Bypass.... or perhaps Extension to Bud Shuster Bypass. In his latter years of federal service, Bud chaired the House Ways & Means Committee. For those who follow the present-day theory of how the system of Federal U.S.G. Inc. operates, the HWMC is loosley known as "the nation's purse strings", which is to say, for those who accept and believe in the present system, this system extorts funding out of the pockets of it's citizens in the form of legalized theft known as "paying one's patriotic, fair share of taxes", after which, the theory holds, the U.S.G. Inc. goes about spending said funds "for public works" ;), by first formally legislating said spending via the HWMC. Given the timing of the building of BCB and the eventual formal retirement of Bud - Elmer Greinert "bud" Shuster, one may fairly say that BCB  - the House that Bud built, will remain foremost as his legacy around this neck of Penn's Woods. Refer back to the aforementioned  "group of PA Lawmakers" that helped pull the strings at the 11th hour to make BCB the present day reality it is; for all intents and purposes, Bud was that otherwise un-named, seemingly anonymous group. Whether or not the theory of the present system works the way the master promoters of this theory claim, there are of course advantages.... "bennies" to being the person who chairs the committee said to have their collective hands on the purse strings of this nation. Do not be all together that surprised if it should turn out that aside from being the aforementined "group" that Bud, via his hometown office in Bedford County, is also at least a bit familiar with DeWeese :) So much for history, now onto the attractions observed during this spring day walk in Bud's park.

Dad is, no doubt, an old schooler. Even though I live a mere few blocks from BCB, where I can often hear while gardening in my back yard whatever shrieks, squeals and cheering that are stimulated to emanate from BCB, and even though the scheduled game time was 10:37 A.M., dear old dad showed up a honkin his horn promptly at 9:30 A.M. Prior to dad showing up, I'd checked on-line weather and radar images and these told me that as far as prospects for the main attraction, they were not at all good. I considered that despite this, there was likely to be the obligatory side-show attractions "concessions" to be farmed a good few hours before the game officially got "called off due to rain". No kidding, dear old dad pulled up to the front of the house at 9:30 A.M., and at 9:29 A.M. the first amounts of the day's precip had begun sprinkling to the ground. We were parked, VIP-style, and walking through the gates of BCB by 9:37 A.M., whereupon I was coureously handed a complimentary copy of 2007 Collector's Series 6 of 21 - 2007 Game Day program guide book of the Altoona Curve AA Professional Minor League Baseball Team, minor league affiliate of the Pittsburgh Pirates. On the way in through the parking lot, I counted approximately 50 of those bright orangish-yellow, familiar gulags on wheels most people know as public schoold busses. Rain or shine, it was, after all, a promotinal "kids day" in the House that Bud built. I asked dad what the chances were that the concession stands would be serving concessions more appropriate for 9:30 A.M.? Even though I still have a good ways to go to improve & correct my daily dietary habits, even for me, the idea of burgers, wings, pop, ice cream, funnel cakes, and the like, at 9:45 A.M., is not my idea of sensible eating. Dad looked at me a bit quizically, and said "uh, yeah, burgers, sausages, fries, chicken wings, you know, the routine stuff"; not what my GI tract had in mind. Apparently I was truly one of the few odd-men out. By the time we got through the gates, I could already observe many a folks and 7-12 grade children chowin down burgers, Uncle Charlies Sausages (replete with onions and peppers on a hoagie bun), slurpin down major-league sized soda pops,  and "dippin dots" icecream sugar pellets, and the like.

Dad generally does not move all that nimbly now that he's in his late 70's, a combination of who knows how many ailments and injuries endured over the years bookended in recent years by what has been diagnosed as  "age related" type II Diabetes that has set in with him the past few years, as well as overall body arthritis that's been creeping in and over him the past 20-30 years, plus or minus the cumulative effects of the (conservatively) 4 or 5 prescription meds he takes twice daily. Dad's orthodox-medical guided diet has become, in some ways, rather restrictive in the past 10 years, especially since taking on the diagnosis of Type II, but as a hedge against that for days when he's bound for BCB, he over restricts himself on preceding days so that he can under-restrict himself while in Bud's house. Dad looked at me quickly and said "I'll meet you down below in a few minutes, I'm going for my burger", and was gone and lost into the crowd amazingly quickly given his condition. At this point, it' still only 9:45 A.M., so I set about browsing the concession stands from a distance looking for something reasonably reasonable; decaf.

I sidled up to the first main concession that I found. Strangley enough, while near all the concessions stands were fairly well packed and bustling, the first one I walked up to was rather quiet, whereupon I began to engage the two, kindly looking volunteer older women manning this particular station. We exchanged good mornings and while the one was tending me a decaf, I began some light banter with the other. I noticed her tip cup had the words written on it "DELPHI - OES", so I asked her, genuinely not knowing "who is Delphi?". She courteously replied "the Order of the Eastern Star". Just as I replied "oh, isn't that masonry for women", her side kick chimed in "we're masons". Sidekick politely added "why don't you sign up, the masons are always looking for people to help them do their good works". She nodded to the lone guy tending the  beer stand on the opposite side of the concret walkway where we were, and said "he's a regular guy mason, he can answer your questions that we can't". I replied, trying consciously to remain polite and respectful, that I don't think I'm really cut in that mold. Sidekick said, "oh, you never know, why don't you join up?". Maintaining my politeness, I added "well, to be honest, I really do not want to be a mason". She nodded and said "well, at least you are honest about it". By then, the not-for-profit business at this particular stand was picking up as well, so I mosied on.

By 10:00 A.M. I got out to the business side of Bud's House - field side, whereupon I saw that despite a light and barely visible sprinkle, the tarp was still covering the infield half of the field. Remembering the last radar image viewed prior to leaving home, I realized that the real rain of this day was still a good hour or so west of us, and if they were already keeping the tarp on the field, chances were pretty good the main atrraction - the game, was likely to be postponed for the day BUT it would likely require a few heavy hours of not-for-profit concession business before such announcement would be announced. Meantime, I could see that rain or no, game or no, the influx of children aged roughly 12 to 17 had peaked, and was already going about having fun on this their field-trip sanctioned-hooky day off from school. I found and met up with dad around 10:05. While wolfing down his burger, he mentioned a dear old friend (Bucky), a former fellow employee of his who himself is now retired, was working one of the concessions stands today, as a volunteer. I asked "is Bucky a mason?". "not that I know of" says dad "why?". I explained that I already had the general impression that one of the ways the "group" owners of the park / ball team was able to "cut expenses" (make more money) was by controlling the operation of concessions through the use of "volunteers" who themselves were in large part, coincidentally, one way or another mason-oriented.  This was in large part confirmed for me after dad had downed his burger and we went off in search of Bucky. We found him manning a dippin-dots stand on the backside of the stadium not far from where I'd gotten a decaf. The confirmation for me came by way of the hat Bucky was wearing - Mount Moriah Church; not outwardly, directly affiliated with freemasonry, but as many if not most variants of modern day christian church are, whether they realize it or not, they are in the food chain and pyramid of control of freemasonry. For the record, I suspect Bucky is like the average church goer and participant in neighbhorhood "good works" charitable organizations often controlled by masons; they have no idea who it is that ultimately controls their charitable efforts, and therefore have no idea that these controllers are generally spawned from ancient societies and "fraternal organizations" who, among other practices, steadfastly practice ritualized worship of satan and or Lucifer.

Bucky and his sidekick were pretty busy, the dippindots business was quite brisk even for 10:30 A.M. I've never tried a dippin dot before but best I can tell, they are marketed as ice cream and appear as half-pea sized, multi-colored frozen dots of sugar. What else other than sugar does better to amp up a school aged child with side-show attractions of a  likely to be rained-out baseball game?; pumped up "music" that offers the squealing Pavlov's dog the reward of free tee shirts, of course.

This particular aspect of modern corporate marketing is one that I can often observe from a distance several blocks away while tending my garden during a typical "kids day" promotion in House that Bud built; think modern application of Pavlov, and the method of training his dogs through conditioning. This really embodies engraining the young masses with modern mind control programming. Rather than leading, luring and fanning the subjects into a state of frenzied expectations of meat-treats, the modern variant only make use of a few simple props as basic stimulii; an on-field MC (master of ceremonies) with a michrophone plugged into the public address system, whereby he can loudly call attention to AND extort his subjects as necessary. MC is also followed on field by a small cadre of troops who, at the direction of said MC, will propel free tee shirts towards a selected crowd of properly stimulated fans; sometimes they give away gift certificates and or coupons to other trinkets above and beyond T Shirts - like Pizzas!. This is quite the phenom to observe.  Generally, as a lead in to this particular phenom, the loudspeaker pre-pumps up the youngis with blasted renditions of such past greats as My Sharona..... the Macareena..... YMCA.... to name a few. This really gets the kids - young an old, in a hip-twisting, body-gyrating & gesticulating mood. Often, the MC will allow a select group of youngins to come down on the field and gyrate & gesticulate before the crowd.... possibly giving some moms N dads the hopes they are parents to a near-future searched-out, well-payed  "stars"... or perhaps  well-payed "MSM'ized survivor", but just as likely future pimps, hookers, street professinals and perhaps off-off-off-off mainstream p 0 r n stars.  With my back to the field, talking to dad about this or that, I noticed a loud chorus of screaming, shrieking teen and pre-teen voices erupting from a section of the stadium. Without even turning to look, I knew from previous observations that the promoters had taken to the field and were offering their trained dogs an opportunity of a FREE TSHIRT... and all it required of said test subjects to improve the chances of landing such a free white shirt was to pump up the volume of shriekig, screaming and yelling that one could best muster under such choreographed circumstances. This is basically the job of the MC; to see which pocket of the fans he can motivate to produce as loud of a chorus of shrieking, upon his command. Once said chorus reaches a level to satisfy MC, he then directs one of his on-field soldiers to lauch towards the selected shrieking pocket of fans a wadded up tee shirt, propelled either with a toy bazooka, or large two-man rubber band launcher. The rest, as they say, the trained rats take care of...... good clean fun....just kids having fun....no harm in that, eh?

Predictably, all this side show activity went on through 11:30, then 12:30 and still the tarp had not been removed from the field. Neither had the main impetus of the rain storm come in, yet. Meanwhile, a lot of not-for-proft concession business was transpiring. The kids were having a grand old time. Littered around the back parts of the inside of the stadium, side by side with the rear concessions, is a veritable amusement park, replete with banks of video games, air hocky, pin ball, and the like. The House that Bud built was built immediately adjacent to an much older amusement park, known as Lakemont, which to this day, has one of the few remaining, in tact, and operable wooden-framed roller coasters. Outside of the hardcore food & beverage concessions inside BCB, a major portion of the other side-show attractions inside BCB has borrowed heavily from the same age-old themes found inside the adjacent amusement park: various shelf-games, ring tosses, ball tosses, a veritable cadre of "step right up and be the next lu ckee winner" shops. The right field wing of concessions also has a jumbo-sized (2-story building-sized) Gumby looking character (super Steamer, somewhat remeniscent of the Bull Durham cartoonish scenery) at the entrance to a giant puffed up plastic house where kids can entire and bounce up and down trampoline style. Along the way to that 11th hour decision making, but also helped pull the necessary strings (purse and otherwise) to appropriate the necessary million bucks or so needed to refurbish what had been a then-defuncted and no longer operated Leep the Dips coaster. From home plate, Leep the Dips is prominent in the distant view roughly 30 yards beyond the right field fence; ergo the mascott for this AA franchise - Steamer, a gumby-like figure that is to embody that now mostly defunct tradition of railroad business and livlihood of the greater Blair Country area, for the most part, dead and gone except for the echoes of such that can be seen, through illusion, when taking a walk in the park that Bud built. at approximately 1:15 PM, a single announcement came over the PA - "today's game has been postponed due to rain". My estimation is, the average high schooler in attendance may not have even noticed that the main event and thesis for them having been brought there, theoretically, had never gotten under way. My futher estimation is, having availed themselves some good 3.5 hours at the various not-for-profit side-shows and concessions, the average school child in attendance could possibly not care less about the washed out ball game.  As a parting shot, the hardcopy version of this not-for-profit story reveals who the single entiy is that controls / owns the operations of every single concession stand operated in the House that Bud built; approximately 20 such individual concession stands.