It Was 50 Years Ago Today...

Don't get too excited about my blog being back... it's not. My writing rut most certainly continues. Sorry. I can still make lists, though... and as I sit here watching the 50th Anniversary Beatles special on CBS I thought I'd rank my Top 50 Beatles songs just for the hell of it: 

1. Please Please Me – a perfect record; arguably one of the purest, most genuine musical compositions of all time
2. I’ll Follow the Sun
3. Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown) - my favorite song on my favorite album
4. You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away – John Lennon channeling his inner Bob Dylan
5. Got to Get You Into My Life
6. We Can Work it Out
7. I Saw Her Standing There
8. I Will – I sang this one to my oldest daughter every single night until she was three
9. Penny Lane
10. Let It Be - I often wonder if Paul McCartney knew it was over when he penned this one
11. All My Loving
12. Here There and Everywhere
13. I Should Have Known Better – how can you not love any song with a harmonica?
14. Paperback Writer
15. Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/The End – “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make”
16. I Feel Fine
17. Here Comes the Sun – George Harrison at his absolute finest
18. Fixing a Hole
19. The Long and Winding Road
20. Eight Days a Week
21. While My Guitar Gently Weeps
22. Do You Want to Know a Secret
23. Twist and Shout – four words: “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”
24. Real Love
25. Revolution
26. In My Life - an amazing nugget stuck smack-dab in the middle of "Rubber Soul" (Side Two)
27. From Me to You
28. Ballad of John & Yoko
29. Blackbird
30. Ticket to Ride – always reminds me of the Eddie Murphy “5^th Beatle” skit on Saturday Night Live
31. Her Majesty – the single best 23-second ditty this side of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”
32. Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite!
33. Getting Better
34. Can’t Buy Me Love – if only because it was the theme song to one of my favorite 80’s movies
35. Free as a Bird – the only Beatles single I actually purchased myself (since it wasn’t released until 1996)
36. Hello Goodbye
37. Across the Universe
38. Hey Jude
39. Nowhere Man
40. Julia – a wonderful song about Lennon's mother; I used to sing to my niece of the same name when she was a baby
41. If I fell
42. Eleanor Rigby
43. Drive My Car
44. I Want to Hold Your Hand – pointless and uber-poppy, but a sentimental favorite nonetheless
45. Yesterday
46. Good Morning, Good Morning
47. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer
48. With A Little Help From My Friends - because I had to get Ringo in here somewhere
49. A Day in the Life
50. Day Tripper

Easter Bunnies: The Real March Madness

I love Santa Claus. I'm all about the Tooth Fairy. I wish I lived on Sesame Street and vacationed in Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I think Walt Disney is a genius who based most of his movies on true stories, and I've always thought of Pee-Wee's Playhouse as the perfect place to spend my golden years.

The quintessential man-rabbit

But I hate the Easter Bunny.

Admittedly its an awful thing for me to say, especially with five young kids at home - but its true, nonetheless.

No - I'm not a curmudgeon or an atheist, and I don't even see myself as a grumpy old man (yet). I honor Easter and all of its traditions (and all of its kielbasa), I just have a very strong, very rational distaste for what has become the modern symbol of the Easter holiday.

Let's start with the obvious: he's a rabbit. A large, over-sized, over-fed rabbit with the same physiological properties of a man. A "man-rabbit", if you will. He either exists through some freak genetic mutation or - the more likely scenario - some government-sponsored radioactivity experiment gone awry. But instead of turning into a green monster and smashing cars and buildings (see: Hulk, The Incredible), he hops from house to house hiding eggs full of jellybeans for little boys and girls to enjoy.

Seriously? How can we even say that with a straight face? We all know Santa Claus is real because we see fat white guys with beards walking around every day; but even the youngest of the young don't take long to figure out that giant walking man-rabbits simply don't exist.

How is this fun?

Which bring me to my second point: rabbits. Rabbits are animals... and animals can be scary, especially to little kids. They don't communicate like us, they make sudden movements and, according to pretty much every fairy tale ever told, they eat small children. A few of my kids are scared of the little tiny bunny in the little tiny cage at our local orchard... so one could only imagine what happens when we threw throw them on the lap of a 200-pound bunny with a big grinning mouth. Then to make matters worse you have to picture that very same man-rabbit hopping through your house - opening drawers, messing-up the couch cushions, hiding stuff. Hell, its enough to creep me out, let alone my kids. Yes, Santa creepy-crawls around the house too, but at least Santa is nice. And jolly. He slides down the chimney and eats cookies and leaves presents. Sure your house smells like stale pipe tobacco when he leaves, but at least he's not pawing his way through your silverware drawer.

You can't tell me there's not
something wrong with this guy.

And speaking of Santa: you can talk to him. You can reason with him and tell him what you want. You can explain to him why even though you cut your sister's pigtails off you still deserve presents  But no such luck with the Easter Bunny, because as everyone knows bunnies don't talk... or read... or do much of anything for that matter. They're just bunnies.

I think I was six or seven when I found out there was no such thing as an Easter Bunny; and while that discovery was in an of itself a relief, it did lead to a far more sobering line of logical reasoning. My parents said there's an Easter Bunny... but I know there's no Easter Bunny... but they said there was one... so they're not telling the truth... and if they're not telling the truth about the Easter Bunny, what else aren't they telling the truth about? At some point all kids will discover their parents are not perfect... but I can't think of a dumber thing to waste away their innocence on than a goddamn six-foot bunny.

We absolutely need man-rabbits to trick Elmer Fudd and to steal Trix cereal, but we don't need them to enjoy a holiday. Let's work together, people... let's stop the madness. Let's stop the Easter Bunny!

Top 40 Songs of 2012 (if you have kids)

It's New Year's Eve and once again iTunes has helped me compile my family's forty most played songs of the year. (Um... can you tell we have five kids under the age of ten?)

1. Locked Out of Heaven (Bruno Mars)

2. It Will Rain (Bruno Mars)

3. We Are Young (Fun feat. Janelle Monáe)           

4. Eyes Open (Taylor Swift)

5. Call Me Maybe (Carly Rae Jepsen)

6. Ours (Taylor Swift)

7. We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together (Taylor Swift)

8. Payphone (Maroon 5 feat. Wiz Khalifa)

9. Boyfriend (Justin Bieber)

10. Rumour Has It (Adele)

11. Moves Like Jagger (Maroon 5)

12. Harder to Breathe (Maroon 5)

13. Shake It Up (Selena Gomez)

14. Baby (Justin Bieber & Ludacris)

15. Mean (Taylor Swift)

16. Sparks Fly (Taylor Swift)

17. Billionaire (Travie McCoy feat. Bruno Mars)

18. California Gurls (Katy Perry feat. Snoop Dogg)

19. Back To December (Taylor Swift)

20. On the Floor (Jennifer Lopez feat. Pitbull)

21. Kissin U (Miranda Cosgrove)

22. Some Nights (Fun)

23. Makes Me Wonder (Maroon 5)

24. Good Time (Owl City & Carly Rae Jepsen)

25. You Belong With Me (Taylor Swift)

26. Who Says (Selena Gomez & The Scene)

27. Firework (Katy Perry)

28. Fearless (Taylor Swift)

29. One More Night (Maroon 5)

30. Volcano (Jimmy Buffett)

31. Start Again (Counting Crows)

32. Love Story (Taylor Swift)

33. Kookie Kookie, Lend Me Your Comb (Edd Byrnes)

34. As Long As You Love Me (Justin Bieber feat. Big Sean)

35. One Less Lonely Girl (Justin Bieber)

36. Make It Shine (Victorious Cast)

37. Girlfriend (Avril Lavigne)

38. Leave It All to Me (Miranda Cosgrove)           

39. Safe & Sound (Taylor Swift feat. The Civil Wars

40. Nothin' On You (B.o.B feat. Bruno Mars)

And as a way to save face, here are my most-listened to songs of 2012. (This is the part where my wife will call me an old man.)

1. We Can Work It Out (The Beatles)

2. Emotion In Motion (Ric Ocasek)

3. My Back Pages (Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, George Harrison, et al.)

4. Please Please Me (The Beatles)

5. I'll Follow the Sun (The Beatles)

6. Let My Love Open The Door (Pete Townshend)

7. Electric Blue (Icehouse)

8. Take It On The Run (REO Speedwagon)

9. New York, New York (Frank Sinatra)

10. Don't Stop Believin' (Journey)

11. Denise (Randy & Rainbows)

12. God Only Knows (The Beach Boys)

13. When I Grow Up To Be a Man (The Beach Boys)

14. All My Loving (The Beatles)

15. You've Got To Hide Your Love Away (The Beatles)

16. Paperback Writer (The Beatles)

17. The Times They Are A-Changin' (Bob Dylan)

18. Norwegian Wood (The Beatles)

19. Blowin' In the Wind (Bob Dylan)

20. Like a Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan)

21. Real World (Matchbox Twenty)

22. Expressway To Your Heart (Soul Survivors)

23. Born In The U.S.A. (Bruce Springstein)

24. All I Really Want To Do (The Byrds)

25. I Wonder Why (Dion & The Belmonts)

26. Got to Get You Into My Life (The Beatles)

27. Cool (Gwen Stefani)

28. Boston (Augustana)

29. I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues (Elton John)

30. Rag Doll (Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons)

31. Basket Case (Green Day)

32. Laid (James)

33. Mrs. Robinson (Simon & Garfunkel)

34. Penny Lane (The Beatles)

35. Take Me Home Tonight (Eddie Money)

36. Next Year (Foo Fighters)

37. Runaround Sue (Dion)

38. Lonely Teenager (Dion)

39. Walk of Life (Dire Straits)

40. Remember Then (The Earls)

Happy New Year, everyone!

35 Minutes From Newtown

It's a cold, grey afternoon here in Central Connecticut; but I'm inside. Our fireplace is lit, our Christmas tree twinkles in the corner - and as if by some obsessive-compulsive urge I keep counting the stockings that hang on the mantle.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. All present and accounted for.

From my perch in the living room, I can hear my five children giggling in the kitchen. They're decorating gingerbread houses, though I'm sure more candy has landed in their stomachs than on the frosted roofs. In a few minutes they'll go watch "Frosty the Snowman" or "Elmo's Christmas Countdown" for the umpteenth time; but for now their focus - their only care in the world - revolves around candy canes and gumdrops.

It dawns on me, as it has often over the past three days, that I could get in my car right now and drive to Sandy Hook Elementary School in about 35 minutes. Thirty-five minutes. That's all that separates my kids' little gingerbread houses from what many have deemed the epicenter of evil in this cruel, inexplicable world.

The questions won't stop pouring through my mind:

What has society come to?

Where is our collective conscience?

How does a loving, compassionate God allow something like this to happen?

Over the next several weeks, reflection will be aplenty. Analyses both forensic and philosophical will inundate - if not consume - us. Our tiny state of Connecticut will undoubtedly lead every news outlet from Dateline NBC to People magazine, while (hopefully) a national public policy debate on semi-automatic weapons will ensue.

And in nine days we'll celebrate Christmas.

I look up again at our stockings. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. All present and accounted for.

May God bless those who aren't as lucky.

Why This Year's Yankee Loss Is Worse Than 2004

The official time of death for the 2012 New York Yankees was yesterday at 7:27 pm, although anyone who knows anything about baseball could tell they'd been on life support since just after midnight on Sunday. Less than ninety minutes after Raul Ibanez tied a playoff game (again) in the bottom of the ninth (again), the Bronx came to a screeching halt as Derek Jeter - the leader, the captain, the heart-and-soul of his team - was carried off the field by his manager.

Jeter broke his ankle and would be out for the remainder of the 2012 postseason... but it didn't matter. The games from that point on were a mere formality. As sure as I was we were going to win the World Series when Ibanez homered, I was equally sure we'd get swept four games to none when Jeter was carried off.

Unfortunately I was right.

In my 35 years on this planet, the Yanks have won the World Series a whopping seven times - which means they've been eliminated, one way or another, 28 times. Of those 28 times, the 2004 loss to the Boston Red Sox obviously stands-out as the most famous (since it resulted in a trivia question: "What is the only team in MLB history to lose a 7-game series after starting 3-0?"); but I'm ready to argue that from a fan's standpoint, the Yankees' loss in this 2012 series was worse. Here are five reasons why:

1. The 2012 Yankees were a much better team than the 2004 Yankees. Think about it: Mark Texeira vs. John Olerud? Robinson Cano vs. Miguel Cairo? CC Sabathia vs. Jon Lieber? David Robertson vs. Esteban f'n Loaiza? Yes, that team had Bernie Williams and Jorge Posada - but on the whole, the 2012 team was and is significantly better than the 2004 team.

2. The 2004 Red Sox were significantly better than the 2012 Tigers. Again with the match-ups: David Ortiz vs. Delmon Young, Manny Ramirez vs. Andy Dirks, Orlando Cabrera vs. Jhonny Peralta... and while I admit Justin Verlander is comparable to Pedro Martinez, the rest of the 2012 Tigers' pitching doesn't hold a candle to Curt Schilling, Derek Lowe or Keith Foulke.

3. The 2012 Yankees wasted the one thing the 2004 Yankees never had: good postseason pitching. Every manager knows that regardless of how you got into the postseason, the key to winning the postseason is pitching - pure and simple. All season long this Yankee team has had question marks around its rotation and its bullpen. We trade for Michael Pineda and he goes out for the season. We have the best closer in baseball history in Mariano Rivera and he goes down for the season. "Big Game" Andy Pettitte spends most of the second half of the season pitching simulated games... and even our ace Sabathia has two stints on the DL. Our hitting carried us into the playoffs, but everyone wondered what would happen on the mound... and our guys responded with one of the most impressive postseason pitching performances I've ever seen (for a group of guys with so much uncertainty). The Yanks lost the 2004 ALCS because Kevin Brown sucked. So did Lieber, Mussina, Javy Vazquez and (God help us) Tom Gordon. It was awful pitching and they deserved to lose. But this year, CC, Kuroda, Pettitte, Hughes, Soriano, Robertson and the others pitched their hearts out... and lost.

4. The 2012 Yankees' offensive had what can only be described as a monumental collapse.There are actually few words I can use to explain what happened to the Yankee bats. Its as if the wood was magically cursed by some evil sprite to gradually stop working after the 162nd game of the season. (Seriously: that's about as plausible as any other explanation out there.) I really have never seen anything like it. In 2004, the Yanks averages 12 hits a game in the ALCS. In 2012? 5.5! Five and a half hits per game from a team that's known for its offensive prowess. It was as if everyone (with the exception of Ichiro) simply shut down. A-Rod (1 for 9) gets the most negative press, but what about the others: Cano (1 for 18), Martin (2 for 14), Texeira (3 for 15) and the granddaddy of them all Curtis Granderson (a whopping 0 for 11 with 7 strikeouts). How many times were Yankee fans looking at a runner on third base with less than two outs saying "a fly ball... just hit a fly ball" - only to have the next two batters either pop-up to the catcher or dribble one right into the first baseman's glove? It was sad... and pathetic.

5. The 2012 Yankees lost their leader... and with him, their heart. I could certainly make the argument that had Cano and Texeira done their job in the bottom of the 11th inning, Jeter never would have had to go out in the field to play the top of the 12th. But he did, he got hurt and it was over. From where we were sitting in Section 233, it was obvious something was wrong the minute he hit the ground; what we weren't prepared for, though, was the worst. If the Stadium felt like a rock concert when Ibanez homered, it felt like a funeral parlor after Jeter was helped off the field. In an instant the aura had changed - from the grandstand to the men's room, it was obvious that the game, the series and the season were over. It wasn't that us fans gave up... it was simply that our hearts were broken.

The counter-argument to all of this, of course, is that losing to the Detroit Tigers can never possibly be as bad as losing to the Boston Red Sox. Such reasoning, however, is falsely predicated on the notion that Yankee Universe hates Red Sox Nation with the same passion for which Red Sox Nation hates Yankee Universe. The whole "Curse of the Bambino" thing was always a bigger deal for Boston than it was for New York; and while losing that 2004 ALCS was by no means the highlight of my career in Yankee (fan) pinstripes, it was a lot easier to swallow than this year's debacle.

Dump A-Rod, dump Granderson, dump Swisher. Pitchers and catchers report in 119 days... I can't wait!

SUMMER RE-RUN: Twins Again!

If network television can fill its summer/creative void with re-runs of things it has already broadcast, then so can I. This essay of mine appeared in the Summer 2009 issue of TWINS Magazine. (I think I'm supposed to put "used with permission" or something like that; but since its my own work that I'm using, granting myself permission to use it seems somewhat redundant.)


Father of Five: Twins Again?

By J.J. Treat

TWINS Magazine, Summer 2009

The grainy black-and-white ultrasound couldn’t have been any clearer. Two small circles, two dark spots, two little flutters.

We were having twins. Again.

Alex and Madeline were four and a half, Katherine was not quite 18 months and there we were, back in the same exam room where it all started, finding out we were having two more.

For a good, solid minute we sat in silence, taking deep breaths and staring at the monitor as if we were in a trance. Finally my wife blurted out: “Oh my God - what kind of a car is going to fit five kids?”

Without cracking a smile our doctor shrugged and deadpanned: “A Suburban.”

Two set of twins... and Katie in between.

Most statistics put the average American family at somewhere between 2.06 and 2.10 children – a fact which has come to explain the novelty of having five kids in today’s Western culture. From the minute we saw those two little flutters we knew we’d be branded a social anomaly.

My mother-in-law, for example, burst into hysterical laughter when we told her we were pregnant with Nos. 4 & 5. So did my mother. My father literally took an hour to absorb the news, while my father-in-law simply told us to get a bigger house… and soon.

When word got out to the rest of the world, most people gasped and told us how lucky we were (a legitimate reaction given our doctor’s claim that the odds of naturally conceiving twins twice is about the same as getting struck by lightning). Others suggested we get our own reality show on TLC.

And of course all of the people who thought we were crazy to have three children had plenty to say about our fourth and fifth. From the generic “How will you afford it?” to the more caustic “better you than me,” people didn’t mince their words.

Buried within the novelty, though, was the very real feeling that our life was changing – and for real, this time. The jump from zero children to two was big but expected; and the jump from two to three was nothing. But making the leap up to five was an unequivocal game-changer.

For starters, my father-in-law was right: we needed to move. Our three tiny bedrooms just weren’t practical anymore; plus, we wanted a town that offered a myriad of sports and activities so our five kids, who all already have different interests, would have plenty to choose from.

Mostly, though, we just needed to adapt to the everyday nuances that exist outside the American “norm”. Most strollers are built for one or two children; we needed one that could hold three. Most restaurants have booths to fit five; we’d always need one for seven. And most deals, specials, coupons and prizes are for a “Family 4-Pack.” With us that would barely cover half.

Kevin and Elizabeth were born full-term on a rainy September morning only a minute apart and weighing-in at a combined 14 pounds, 15 ounces (which I’m fairly certain qualifies my wife for sainthood). Coming from a comparatively small family, I was in awe – amazed, even – the first time I saw all five of my children together.

As early as our hospital stay, though, random strangers felt the need to weigh-in on the size of our brood. One woman chastised us for having so many children, citing the world population and the growing need to adopt. Another said we should have just stopped after the first set of twins. And plenty of uninhibited types had the nerve to ask “natural or in-vitro” with the same ease a waitress would ask “regular or decaf.”

Lucky for us, peppered within all the cynicism and commentary was genuine excitement - mostly from people who either came from or had big families like ours. They assured us that what most saw as a novelty was simply just our life.

That got me thinking. With five kids in public school, I will never again complain about paying my property taxes. And with five kids living under my roof, I should be able to stop shoveling snow by the time I’m 40.

With five kids, they will have to learn patience, independence and responsibility (since my wife and I can’t do everything for everybody). They will have to learn how to share, how to fight and how to resolve conflicts; and they will wave to learn how to tolerate other opinions and adapt to other interests.  

And with five children there will be plenty of people to take care of my wife and me when we’re old. More importantly, though, there will be plenty of them to take care of each other.

Life with a big family won’t always be easy. We’ve already had (and will surely continue to have) our ups and downs. But at the end of the day my wife and I rest well knowing we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of all the questions we are asked, the most common is always: “How do you handle all those kids?” I wish we had some snazzy, magical answer; but when people ask how we do it the simple truth is: we just do.

And we haven’t even needed a Suburban… yet.

J.J. Treat lives in West Hartford, CT with his wife and five children.

The Tragedy of Penn State

As both a guy who follows college sports and a human being who has a soul, its hard not to have an opinion on the debacle that has become Penn State football.

Both of my degrees are from the University of Connecticut (i.e. the Mecca of college basketball) so its fair to say I've never really cared all that much about the goings on in "Happy Valley". They played in a different conference, excelled in a different sport, and (gratuitous self-affirmation notwithstanding) hadn't won a national championship in that sport since Ronald Reagan was president. To me, there was really no difference between Penn State and the University of Hawaii.

Jerry Sandusky & Joe Paterno

Everything changed last fall, though, when the state of Pennsylvania finally slapped the cuffs on Jerry Sandusky.

After a three-year investigation, Sandusky, an assistant football coach and top lieutenant of Penn State legend Joe Paterno, was charged with forty-eight - FORTY-EIGHT! - counts of sexual abuse, most of which centered around young boys. Within days, the Penn State trustees (in a rare show of leadership) ceremoniously fired both Paterno and University President Graham Spanier, and they hired former FBI Director Louis Freeh to investigate further. Freeh's report, which was released a few weeks ago, was both shocking and scathing.

"Our most saddening and sobering finding is the total disregard for the safety and welfare of Sandusky's child victims by the most senior leaders at Penn State," Freeh wrote. "Messrs. Spanier, (Gary) Schultz, Paterno and (Tim) Curley never demonstrated, through actions or words, any concern for the safety and well-being of Sandusky's victims until after Sandusky's arrest."

Its not just disgusting, its disturbing. And "disturbing" is perhaps the nicest word I (or anyone else) could use to describe the culture that was allowed to permeate Penn State, its football program and its community.

Former Penn State VP Vicky Triponey

One of the names that keep creeping up in all of these Penn State stories is Vicky Triponey, the school's former Vice President for Student Affairs who was fired in 2007 for (and I'm using editorial license here) having the gall to stand-up to Paterno. I knew Vicky when she held a similar position at UConn; knew her well, in fact. We did a lot of work together my senior year and I was genuinely disappointed when she left us for Penn State. On the day after Freeh's report was issued, Vicky was quoted in USA Today as saying "Penn State became... too big to fail. It wasn't just that we can't have bad press. It was, we have to protect this image that we're perfect."

Like lemmings, people followed Joe Paterno and the brand he had cultivated. Even after Sandusky was arrested and Paterno fired, thousands of Penn State alumni and students took to the streets to protest the nerve of the school's trustees to even question - let alone terminate - the ultimate authority of the Almighty "Joe Pa". This culture - this cult-like way of thinking - has lead to what, in my mind, is the biggest issue at hand: the lack of focus on or sympathy for the victims.

New York Daily News columnist Mike Lupica, whose views on sports, politics and life are almost identical to mine, said it best: "These are the men who did not hear the cries of children... they told themselves they were protecting a school and a football program and protected a monster in their midst instead." A monster. Sandusky was a monster. A monster who permanently scarred the lives of countless young boys. The students and alumni who took to the streets to protest the firing of their beloved "Joe Pa" should most certainly keep that in mind.

To cast a pox upon all of Penn State and everyone who has ever had any affiliation with the university is both unfortunate and wrong. In the wake of this scandal, a group of Penn State alumni have created a website to raise money for the victims and survivors of sexual abuse. They state they are "embarrassed and shocked by the recent events at Penn State" and that they want to "stand up for the victims of abuse."

Thank God somebody still has a moral compass!

Joe Paterno died of lung cancer in January. Graham Spanier, Gary Schultz, Tim Curley and Lord knows how many others will almost certainly face criminal charges. And Jerry Sandusky, who was found guilty on 45 of the 48 counts against him, will spent the rest of his natural life in prison before rotting his afterlife away in hell.

Students and alumni holding vigil at the Paterno statue.

Still being debated on sports pages and talk shows across the country is what Mark Emmert and the NCAA should do with Penn State football. My two-cents: whack-it. Let every existing Penn State football player transfer immediately, penalty-free - and then cancel both the 2012 and 2013 seasons, essentially forcing the university to start from scratch. This isn't accepting plane tickets or selling memorabilia on eBay - this is a crime, a felony. Multiple felonies... at the highest levels of the athletic program and the university. They deserve the harshest penalty the NCAA has ever issued.

And as for the famed Paterno statue: I say melt it. Then sell the bronze and donate the proceeds to RAINN.org. It would be a good first step down what promises to be a long, long road of healing and recovery.