A Million Stories

All the news we care to print.

by Jeffrey C. Billman, Brian Howard and Holly Otterbein

Evan M. Lopez

The next time you walk into a PNC Bank, you might think you've accidentally stumbled upon a new Whole Foods venture.

In a marketing campaign that stretches from pnc.com all the way to the Philadelphia International Flower Show, PNC declares that it's "the greenest bank in the business." It's earned this self-given title because it has more newly constructed "green"-certified buildings than any other company worldwide, apparently, and thus enjoys better indoor air quality, happier employees and the respect of institutions like the Green Building Alliance. Natch, PNC spells out these honors online in a green font, alongside tranquil photos of the great outdoors.

But, to Philly's Earth Quaker Action Team, simply building green doesn't cut it. Throughout last week, the group's members protested outside of the Flower Show, which PNC sponsored, because the bank does business with coal companies responsible for mountaintop removal. (Mountaintop removal is a truly hideous form of surface mining that turns entire mountain ranges into valleys.) PNC, of course, does not itself practice mountaintop removal, but it has issued millions of dollars in bonds and loans to companies that do so —and that was more than enough to piss off the Earth Quaker Action Team.

"If the coal companies were in my backyard, I would protest them. But PNC is in my backyard," says activist Ingrid Lakey. "Plus, we're in a new place now. It's no longer enough to say, 'I build green and don't do mountaintop removal directly.' PNC is greenwashing."

The protesters handed out pamphlets to Flower Show visitors, and played folk parodies on a banjo. "She'll be comin' 'round the mountain if she can, but she can't!" they sang. "She'll be comin' 'round the mountain, but there might not be no mountain, 'cause of mountaintop removal's evil plan!"

When the little old ladies ambled by the protesters at 12th and Arch, they often, and understandably, looked befuddled, as in: "Why on Earth would anyone have a problem with my water lilies?"

"We had some good conversations with people," Lakey says, "but I'm not sure what the end result of the protest was."

Every once in a while, though, the little old ladies sung along.

F You You F'ing F's

Of course, as you read last week on Meal Ticket, this esteemed publication's food and drinks blog par excellence, three local bars — all under the ownership of Leigh Maida and Brendan "Spanky" Hartranft — were raided last week by crack agents from the Bureau of Liquor Control Enforcement (BLCE), the billy club-wielding enforcers for everyone's second favorite bureaucratic agency, the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (PLCB). (No. 1? The PPA.)

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The issue at first was whether the beers at Memphis Taproom, Local 44 and Resurrection Ale House were properly signed, sealed and registered in triplicate with the state. (To those shocked that the PLCB requires beer to be registered: Did you really think the state wasn't going to take its pound of flesh? Really? Really?). At issue now: whether the BLCE got sloppy when confiscating some 60-plus gallons of allegedly unlicensed beer; if any of the legit confiscated beer will survive the six-to-eight-month quarantine/investigation; if charges will be pressed against some combination of the distributor, the bar, the breweries; and, most tantalizingly, who is this anonymous rat bastard tipster who started this whole mishegoss?

A call to PLCB press secretary Nicholas Hays reveals that, under Section 4-445 of the liquor code, it's the responsibility of the brewery — or, in the instance of out-of-state or foreign malt or brewed beverages, a franchisee — to pay an annual $75 registration fee, per brand, for the honor of not having their product ferreted away in some government holding tank while it skunks. As of press time, we're still waiting to hear back from the BLCE's Harrisburg office to find out who — the distributor, the bar, nobody at all, everybody — might be facing sanctions, and how — if you believe the bar owners — these bumbling dolts managed to snag a bunch of beers that were already on the PLCB's approved list . Oh, and if you get the chance, check out that list (lcbapps.lcb.state.pa.us/webapp/registered_brands.asp), and count the number of unapproved beers you've consumed. We ticked off a good dozen without trying. (We'd divulge the particulars, but we'd rather claw our eyes out with a spoon than help these hacks.)

In the meantime, the crackdown continues: On March 8, the BLCE reportedly raided distributor Origlio Beverage, which supplies Maida and Hartranft's bars. Among the beers these aces confiscated or ordered Origlio not to distribute: Duvel — which, as the Daily News has already reported (!), is in fact on the PLCB's list, under a slightly different name.

Keep up the good work, boys.

Victory is ours!

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You know what makes us tingle in our naughty places? Lists. Because they tell us so much about ourselves, even when they say nothing at all. For instance, check this out: Last month, forbes.com, which makes its entire stock in trade off creating lists for every-fucking-thing imaginable — Richest rappers? Check. Richest people in China? Check. Best cities for singles? Check — released its list of the top 20 most miserable cities in America. Yes, we made it.

But good news! We came in last, which means that there are 19 other places in this country that are more miserable than we are. Better news: One of them is New York City.

Of course, Forbes' criteria are, well, a bit opaque. Surely, no one's going to argue that Cleveland doesn't belong among the country's biggest steaming shitpiles, but does the fact that 71,000 people have left that dump in the last five years really trump Detroit's vanishing economy? Detroit, after all, ranks fourth, behind the foreclosure capital of Stockton, Calif., and Memphis, Tenn., where a lot of people get shot. Turns out, these things are something less than hard science. Here, in total, is Forbes' explanation for our misery: "The city's sports fans basked in the Phillies' 2008 World Series win, which ended a 25-year sports title drought for Philly. The win can't mask the city's problems, though: long commutes, high crime rates, lousy air quality and lots of pollution."

No. 16 New York, by contrast, is superiorly miserable because of its "torturous commute times" and " nosebleed-inducing income-tax levels ." NYC's personal income-tax rates, depending on your income, fall somewhere between 2.9 percent and 3.6 percent. Philly's wage tax is up around 3.9 percent . True, their state income taxes are higher than ours, but they don't have the pleasure of dealing with the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (see above). And while we wouldn't trade a day in the worst pileup on the Schuylkill for 30 seconds of traffic-fighting in Manhattan, at least their subways don't shut down at midnight.

See? Everything's relative. And relatively pointless. But whatever, we'll call it a win.

Suck it, New York.

This week's report by Jeffrey C. Billman, Brian Howard and Holly Otterbein. E-mail us at amillionstories@citypaper.net.