Distraction is the name of this game.

With PNL now successfully on a leash, it would seem that Mircea Geoana and his communist PSD friends are very pleased with how the Romanian media salivated over the dubious accusation that Basescu beats kids at his support rallies.

If PSD can get the idiots all riled up by belaboring some 5-second video clip to death, pounding on the podium, and screaming about pedophile rape, then they’re increasing the odds for a return to communist rule simply by distracting the populace from issues of substance.

And they’d love nothing more than to increase the noise and drown out the signal.

Viewing you like a 3-week old puppy, they want to jingle-jangle squeak toys in your face to get you chasing your own tail. To that end, they’re apparently hiring video editors to work on additional bullshit clips to handfeed to their paid-off friends in the press to spread the electoral virus.

Don’t be fooled.

Bribing a journalist wouldn’t take much money. And it only take a handful to begin infecting others, particularly if the few happen to be the chain-smoking cynical bunch in the editorial room whose lives have been filled with so much disillusionment that they don’t give a whit about yours.

One should be able to measure the journalistic integrity of various media venues based on how much bullshit they like to sling. If your newspaper (or magazine or tv channel or radio station) of choice endlessly splashes this non-issue in your face, then it is clear those so-called journalists have disdain for your intellectual capacity.

In fact, shamefully, they aren’t journalists at all, but merely burned-out, hack writers seeking to coarsen the national dialogue in the chase for easy ad dollars because they don’t believe Romania can ever do better.

Here’s the deal, folks: You are actually in control.

1. Stop buying that non-journalistic newspaper or magazine. And send a politely worded email explaining why. (You may safely ignore whatever watered down response they might fling back at you.)

2. Change the tv channel or radio station. Knock those metrics down.

3. In polite conversation with friends, when a gossiping pal puts on the mask of a sly grin and says, “Deci, did you see that YouTube video of Politician X where she wore white shoes after Labor Day?” or some equally trumped up and inconsequential nonsense — such as “Adica, have you seen the Vimeo clip of Basescu punching a two year old in the crotch at the ambassadorial dinner party, deci?” — then, I recommend you issue the curt reply of “Cui îi pasă?” and follow it with some poignant comment on a political issue which really matters, to redirect the conversation.

4. Do not vote for Geoana.

Strap on a pair and demand sanity. Flat-out refuse to get dragged into the downward spiral.

Of course, if you haven’t got the chops, then you can always be a lapdog consumer. Take whatever they give you. Accept the communist return. Just strap on your helmet and occasionally wipe the drool from your chin.

What’s going on, people?

I turn a blind eye for a short while and the whole world seems to fall apart…

Perhaps you’ve heard of the Internet. Possibly even the Web. Fairly common these days, I’d say.

Politicians rely on rapid and on-message agitprop to be delivered to the target audience(s) in a reliable fashion such that the (mis)information takes root or engenders a desired effect.

It’s probably a good guess to say no one reads this blog any more. Rightly so; there hasn’t been anything to read here for blog-eons. And I’d wager that even if there are a few last holdouts, they may not have read my previous discussion about the systemic ignorance of Romanian Web server administrators.

A while back, I opined with incredulity about the pervasive Romanian failure to properly configure something as mind-numbingly simple yet as mission-critical as a Web server. And now it’s come into the spotlight by embarrassing Preşedintele României Traian Băsescu on the international stage.

As trumpted by JurnalismOnline, it seems the Web site for the Romanian Presidency is run by an ignorant admin who clearly is unable to comprehend how to perform his or her job.

Unless it’s a PSD operative trying to subvert PD-L objectives… heh.

This is the moment where I burst forth into involuntary cackling, upsetting all around me into believing I’ve gone mad. But I haven’t. The insane asylum is connect by PRI to Cotroceni.

The fools!

(Hat tip to Monsoux for bringing this gem of hilarity to my attention.)

I walked around it a few times, noting its’ detail and pinpointing flaws while three meters away a short little man well into his seventies cast his eagle eyes upon the behavioral details and my unusual pause.

Only after I felt I was being I watched did I really take note of him. Before that moment, he had been merely an anonymous shape in the unfocused landscape. Leaning back against a metal fence and whiling away the time with not a single task to attend to. One seemingly unconsequential blur from a myriad of cinematic extras populating the şoseaua that served as set.

I looked up and our eyes met. His were twinkling with an amusement over my curiosity.

“Ti-place maşina asta?”

“Da. Cred ca e rar.”

And our sudden conservation began with him sharing the details of when he had first purchased the car…

There’s been a few readers from amandoua of those beautiful places which I’ve missed foarte much. Deci, if any of you folks there wanted to meet up, then shoot me o mesaj and we’ll put ceva together.

brasov09@romerican.com or sibiu09@romerican.com

Merci mult de tot.

Little more than one city block later, I could tell by the graffiti alone that the kids here were attuned to a more domestic style of mischief.

While I lament Romania does have a urban mural scene and seems instead awash in tweenage taggers, I was happy to see the folks living on Baba Novac (not Bob Novak) had more of a local flavor as opposed to the MTV-monkeys up in Decebal.

Yes, a little home-cooked boroboaţa is a preferred sight.

Who could possibly know what amazing feats of wonder might have driven the great artists of his generation to so adoringly pay tribute to his accomplishments with a salutation for the ages gracefully painted upon a rusted-out hollow utility box stuffed with precious gifts for the altar which now serves as monumental centerpiece for younger generation of visitors to Complex Rucar and promulgates Madalin to instant fame in the blogosphere.

Millennia from now, alien archeologists from uncharted space will marvel over the presumed religious significance of such a masterpiece of cultural… oh, I suppose I’ve gone too far, now.

Shall we move on to other examples of local craftsmanship?

An explanatory placard would go a long way toward increasing the odds of a body understanding just what in the world this might be. A piece of concrete communism, to be sure. But is this water fountain supposed to be an astrological clock opening a portal to the 4th dimension? A handheld gram scale amok? Aborted zodiac sign?

I suppose it will be interesting to see how it looks in the summer. Assuming the city turns the water on.

I still love the Trabant. It just seems the perfect toy.

Rather than dusted with snowflakes in Bucureşti, I can imagine this Trabant with some better air pressure loaded up with a couple surfboards and a full propane tank cruising I-5 just outside of Encinitas. All it needs is a custom paint job.

The only thing more natural would be a dolled up Barkas bus on the same stretch of highway.

I don’t know about you, friend, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and venture a guess that concrete was probably not the artist’s preferred medium. I mean, how’d we get this piece of work?

Make a mold of the face and basic head. Attach that little mold to a larger tombstone-style cardboard box. Turn the whole thing upside down, pour in some fine-grain quickset concrete and let it set a while. When you guesstimate the head might be relatively stable, then pour the junk mix over the top into the larger chamber.

When the base starts to firm up, flip the whole thing right side up and remove the mold. Inspect the face to make sure it’s workable. Then take some excess junk concrete ooze and begin fashioning a beard and hair.

Voila! Another advancement of the arts thanks to influential communist stylings. Cold and lifeless — both literally and figuratively –  the anachronistic overseer of the tovaraşi parked in stoic repose at the entrance of the public park off Baba Novac in Titan.

The smiley face graffiti cracks me up, because Cuza never struck me as a happy friendly guy.

On the other hand, Moş Korochun has always seemed the jolly type. So it was quite curious to stumble upon this electric light representation of present-dispensing practioner. I wonder why did he look like muppet eskimo characture, perhaps explained by having had his bulbs glued together in China, and, more importantly, just why is it he was giving all the children of Titan a crude gesture with his middle finger?

Contrarily, Frosty the Snowman looks as thrilled as a pig in slop. Atta boy, Frost!

I wouldn’t want you to think that cartoon icon of Americana was the only cold and happy thing in Parcul I.O.R. Nossir. There were, afterall, humans lurking about. Adeverat.

What a glorious sight, exiting strada Baba Novac!

Entering the park to find it teeming with life, aflutter with holiday buzz.  Giggling teenagers charged with hormones, young families opening the imaginative minds of small children to the electric glow of Christmas joy, and elderly couples drinking it all in as they quietly stroll along with a twinkle in their eye.

Whomever was in charge of decorating the park gazebo was probably not the same person in charge of decorating the park overall. Their execution was probably the best part of the park, given the small space, and I would humbly suggest this same person should probably be assigned the design of the entire park next year.

Here we find an awkward corporate sponsor. Whatever they paid for the promotional space was not enough money. The city will need to charge more to anyone wanting to promote their corporate logos at public events as well as laydown some ground rules as to thematic considerations.

Just look a this monstrosity. The bloated windbag stood out like a sore thumb, as the company made zero effort whatsoever to try and fit the holiday theme. That speaks volumes about the depth of thinking behind this radio station. A station so out of touch it uses an inflatable cassette player boombox with analog dials. Something kids have never seen.

During Christmas.

Hey, Itsy Bitsy, get off your duff and pretend to care about the kids and families, will ya? Strap on your thinking caps; enhance the mood and feel of the Craciun experience. Don’t detract from the fun with your lenes eyesore.

And while I’m spanking you, here’s a few other rants I’d like to shove down your throat. I suppose some PHB thinks the high-pitch voiceovers are adorable when they’re definitely not, but anyone can agree your radio broadcasts have entirely too much pointless chatter that the kids do not care about.

As if that were not bad enough, you play as many minutes of commercials as you do play songs. Possibly more. Are y’all completely insane? Have you any idea what a terrible experience that is?  Do you understand this devalues the ad slots you sell? Does someone have to explain everything to you? Raise the price, rotate fewer advertisements, and increase the quality of your broadcast mix.

Most of the songs in Romaneşte I’ve heard on your station suck: badly, really really badly. I cannot emphasize that enough. Really. You need some serious help in understanding what an audience is entertained by. Start by hiring a competent program director and get them involved in brand experience research.

Unless, of course, your executive staff is dumb enough to think they’ll survive for long now that kids are all getting online and have many more choices. Let me break it down for you: right now, at least one astute reader of this blog has picked up on the business opportunity and begun imagining how they develop a competing experience for the children of Romania. They can probably offer a better service for less money, leaving Itsy Bitsy a shriveled relic of a bygone era.

What dimwit thinks it’s a good idea to play so much music from America? First of all, rocket scientists, the kids do not understand English language. That should be enough right there to convince you to stop playing MP3s of songs extracted from American TV shows the kids haver never seen. It’s pretty lame when you stuff the broadcast with filler like worn-out 1960s American rock music with words the kids cannot sing along to.

And since you play Disney songs (for which I tend to doubt you have the license to play, as Disney is very protective of its music) which generally pretty good music quality compared to much the other local schlock your station pukes out on public airwave, one might argue the point that your actions may implant in impressionable minds the message that Romanian music is of lower quality, boring, uncool, and otherwise not worth listening to.

Here’s a clue: Take all that money you’re making from the 4 ads-per-song sales success you’re focused on and channel some of those funds back into the Romanian art community by funding the creation of new children’s musicians right here at home. Just think of all the money you’ll make from owning the rights to the characters and personalities you create: not only advertising revenue via radio and internet, but selling actual CDs in stores, repositioning your assets into TV, cable, DVD, and internet video mediums.

You make more profit when you provide a better quality experience for the kids. However, it will require the people at your helm let go of the greed lever. Set you sights higher and accomplish more.

In any event, stop repeating “asculta Itsy Bitsy” nine hundred times an hour. I feel bad for the kids.

Here’s how your station sounds: Asculta message, annoying voiceover chatter for 3 minutes, advertisement, commercial, advert, asculta message, Disney song in English, sleepy song in Romaneşte, asculta message, boring song in Romanian, asculta message, annoying voiceover chatter for 2.5 minutes, asculta message, American TV song, advertisement, ad, asculta message, commercial, advert, reclama, asculta message, fairly weak Romanian song, 1960s American song, asculta message, 2 minute voiceover about ustoroi, asculta message, promotion about attending church, asculta message, finally a pretty entertaining Romanian song, asculta message, American TV song, asculta message, annoying voiceover chatter for 4 minutes, advertisement, crap Romaneşte song…

Ad infinitum.

I don’t think I have the energy left to point out the myriad of disappointments with your website. My readers are probably sick to death of reviewing your many flaws, so we won’t get into the lackluster online experience focused on creating insecurity within parents your advertisers exploit.

Itsy Bitsy could be so much more than a logo filled with empty calories whose sole purpose is to turn a buck without regard to the experience kids have with the brand. I predict a more savvy competitor will obviate your existence in the near future.

In the meantime, let’s hope next Christmas you opt for something more creative than an inflatable object most kids have never seen.

But tonight, while making tocaniţa for dinner, I can report I’ve found love in a potato.

And it winked at me.