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Preventing Identity Theft - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Preventing Identity Theft
When I was born, almost 55 years ago and 400 miles far far away, Buffalo was the eighth largest city in the nation. Its fortunes had already begun to turn, though. Some tie it to a curse associated with the assassination of William McKinley here, others to decades of bad urban planning, which destroyed a Frank Lloyd Wright masterpiece for a parking lot and put project after project in the still-swampy suburbs.

By the time we moved here (me for the second time) in 1994, the decline seemed permanent. Our mighty steel plants sat silent, and dozens of manufacturers followed them into oblivion. The financial sector was supposed to save the city, but crash after crash killed bank after bank, the latest being the shameful sight of the city's once-biggest depository, HSBC (nee Marine Midland) pulling out its entire retail banking operation and stripping the skyline of its bowtie logo as it abandoned downtown's tallest building, leaving it a mostly vacant foreclosed-on hulk.

Through it all, though, we had the Bills. For better or worse (and, save a few almost-but-not-quite years in the early 1990s, mostly worse), they were our identity card on the national scene. We still had one of the 32 seats at the most exclusive table in sport, granted here the year after my birth in those heady eighth-largest days. When owners in Baltimore, then Cleveland, then even boomtown Houston left longtime homes for greener pastures paydays, it was inevitable we would be next. When management mortgaged an eighth of our home schedule a year to poachers in Toronto, it was inevitable that they would be the thieves. And when the team's original owner died earlier this year, with no heirs interested in continuing, we knew there would be a sale, to a big-bucks bidder, and the moving vans would be circling any time now.

Yet a funny thing happened, and finally came to fruition today: the inevitable, wasn't.

The NFL and the Ralph Wilson family announced that Terry Pegula, owner of the NHL Sabres and a major player in downtown Buffalo development, had blown away the field with a billion-plus bid to buy the team and keep it here for the indefinite future. He beat out the hairpiece of Donald Trump and the hairband hypocrisy of Jon Bon Jovi, who'd been shilling for Toronto bidders who, nosiree, eh, we don't want to move your team to oor much larger and richer metropolitan area.

For those still sick over the institutional sexism shown in the recent Ray Rice incident? It's telling that Pegula's wife Kim will be, if not the controlling owner, still a major player in the day-to-day operations of the franchise.

The evil demons of Los Angeles, and San Antonio, and, yes, Toronto, can now move on to haunt Oakland and San Diego and Jacksonville and every other place that doesn't kowtow to the Great God Goodell. As of today? He has no power over us.

There's nowhere this team is gonna be, than right here, right now:)
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ellettra From: ellettra Date: September 10th, 2014 10:25 pm (UTC) (Link)
Oh yes! I saw this and meant to ask you how you felt about the sale. This sounds like very good news!
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