I still remember it was autumn and the blog was shinin'...

...'cuz you look just like a Commie and you might just be a member, baby!

IT’S A BIRD! IT’S A PLANE! IT’S…OH, SHIT—WE’VE BEEN PUNKED!
I know this is a bit belated, but I can’t help but congratulate myself for seeing right through the whole "Balloon Boy" thing right from the start two weeks ago.  How hard up for attention do ya gotta be to throw your own six-year-old son under the bus to land a potential reality show and/or big payday?  Me, personally, I think these Heene idiots should have those kids taken away from them immediately, or if nothing else, the kids should be kept away from this douche-bag father of theirs.  Among other things, this goomer claims to believe the world will end in 2012 just like in that new movie coming out.  Well, if that’s the case, then why bring three kids into the world just so they can die young?  There are some strange rangers out there, that’s for sure…

JUST GIVE US DIRTY LAUNDRY…
Since they already play the "Breaking News" card far too often, CNN now has a new moniker to keep viewers on the edges of their seats:  "URGENT Breaking News"!  What’s next—"Double-Secret Breaking News"?  Whoever runs the on-screen graphics at CNN needs to lay off the caffeine, too.  I was watching Larry King interview Michael Moore the other night, and was subjected to this constant stream of factoids every ten seconds below Moore’s name like "Opposes more troops in Afghanistan", "Plans new documentary", "Thinks Bush was an idiot", etc.  Talk about information overload/overkill…

Oh, and I saw that noted transsexual (D)Ann Coulter making the rounds on the Faux Noise Channel squawk show circuit last week.  Must have another book coming out…

DON'T GO AWAY MAD, LARRY, JUST GO AWAY...
Chefs running back Larry Johnson’s latest FUBAR might hopefully be his last as a Chef.  They should’ve chucked his (in his own words) "faggot ass" a long time ago—he’s been worthless on the field this season and a locker room cancer off of it, and this latest dust-up involving his use of gay slurs and pissing/moaning about head coach "Big Head" Todd Haley is just another example of his incurable immaturity.  And no one—least of all yours truly—is buying Johnson’s predictable media apology, which had all the sincerity of Jerry Springer’s post-show commentaries.  And at age 30, LJ’s warranty has just about expired anyway.  Cut your losses and move on, Chefs…

DEATH WARMED OVER?
Am I the only one who finds it totally crass that DirecTV is using the late Chris Farley’s Tommy Boy bit in their current TV ads?  I’m already on record here as not being a big CF fan—I think he was overrated as all get-out—but this seems just a skosh disrespectful to his memory, especially considering how his "friend" David Spade also appears in these lame commercials.  Just keep those checks rollin’ in, huh Dave?  In a related deal, the remaining Billy Mays spots need to be 86’ed as well—something about a dead person hawking products just creeps me out, big-time.

AND WHILE I’M AT IT…
Another ad campaign that should’ve been deep-sixed long ago is the contrived Coors Light bits with football coaches Mike Ditka, Brian Billick, Romeo Crennel and Herm Edwards.  First off, the ads are so contrived and simple-minded, and secondly, none of these guys are even currently coaching in the NFL!  Then again, I have to say that Coors is, if nothing else, consistent—their TV ads are just as crappy as their beer is…

NOW THAT'S FUNNY!
I saw by the paper the other day that "comedian" Bob Saget is scheduled to appear at K.C.'s Midland Theater next month.  Tickets run from 30-50 bucks.  The Midland holds about 3,000 people, but given those monetary parameters, methinks BS and his appropriate initials will have great difficulty filling that venue.  Perhaps something a skosh smaller might work out better for him, like my living room!  On second thought, never mind—I don't want that no-talent hack in my house...

MY NEW FAVORITE SONG
I mentioned this in my last post about my Chicago trip, but it’s so rare that I get to praise recent (or fairly recent) music, so I wanted to laud the Fratellis again for their 2006 hit "Chelsea Dagger", which is also the Chicago Blackhawks goal celebration tune.  I first noticed this goofy little song being played last spring during the Stanley Cup playoffs, and thought it was a hoot how the entire crowd chanted in unison along with the "dut-duh-duh-dut" parts, and discovered firsthand last week that it’s even funnier in person.  Initially, I figured the song was something done exclusively for the ‘Hawks, but a Blackhawks fan I spoke with clued me in on the Fratellis, a Scottish trio who in best Ramones-style all claim Fratelli as their surnames, even though they aren’t at all related.  I borrowed their CD with "Chelsea" on it from my local library and now the song resides in my iPod, and there were a couple other tracks I liked as well.  Maybe there’s some hope for this generation’s music after all…

TEACHER NEEDS TO SEE ME AFTER SCHOOL...
A little useless trivia for you that I learned yesterday.  You know who the "Phys. Ed." teacher in the famed Van Halen "Hot For Teacher" video is?  That would be none other than Janet Jones, better known as Mrs. Wayne Gretzky.  Sit down, Waldo!












FEELING FACELESS ON FACEBOOKAfter about four months or so, I’m still not completely sold on the phenomenon known as Facebook.  Between regular e-mails, this blog and FB, I’m probably as well-connected with my good friends (both old and new) as I’ve ever been, yet I still feel very isolated and alone.  Facebook tends to encourage pithy little hit-and-run posts with precious little substance to them, and since the advent of Facebook, I’ve noticed a huge drop in personal e-mails to me from a couple of friends.  It’s almost as if keeping in touch with little dribs and drabs on FB is an excuse to avoid getting too in-depth and personal with your close friends in other venues.  The indifference I experience from longtime friends to the stuff I post on there bothers me too.  I don’t expect everyone to react or respond to every little thing I post, but they could at least give me the time of day now and then.

My feelings of isolation extend beyond the cyber-world too.  Virtually all of my close friends are married, which seriously precludes socializing, going out drinking, doing concerts or ballgames together and or just hanging out, thus leaving me basically with table scraps when it comes to hooking up with friends—i.e., I have to take whatever I can get these days.  It also finally occurred to me here lately that most of my longtime friends are more politically conservative than I ever realized, and being’s that I ain’t conservative, this is beginning to cause some friction in many cases.  It also doesn't help that I'm a non-church-going heretic in many of their eyes.  Not saying we have to agree on everything, but I can’t help but feel like an outsider in my own circle of friends nowadays.  Well kids, I yam what I yam, and I make no apologies for that...

Travelblog--Chicago

Sorry for the delay in getting back on the blog here, but my trip to Chicago was a bit of a letdown, thanks to several things beyond my control—not the least of which was the weather, which was vile during most of my stay.  I got really lucky with the rental car and lodging, but poor timing, a ton of rain, frustrating traffic and under-budgeting all led me to actually cut the trip a day short and bag Milwaukee altogether—much to the chagrin of the Fonz and Mr. & Mrs. C.  Therefore, I haven't been all that motivated to write, plus I've had some other issues to deal with on homefront here.  It wasn't all that bad a trip, really, but a big disappointment after months of plotting and planning and high expectations on my part.  Anyway, as promised, here's my pictorial tour...

CHARLIE PARKER LIVES?
Five hours out of K.C., my first stop was this oddball little quonset hut known as Charlie Parker's Diner in Springfield, IL, home of their trademark "Horseshoe" meals.  CP's has been featured on Food Network's "Drive-Ins, Diners and Dives" and I'm quickly discovering that even when the featured food looks really good on TV, it doesn't always live up to expectations in person.  I had the ham-and-egg horseshoe, which is a piece of toast with the ham and eggs on top of it, smothered by a plateful of hash browns topped off by gooey cheese sauce.  Dandy tasting, up to a point, but the cheese kinda overwhelms the whole thing after eating about half of it, and I found it slightly underwhelming overall.  Still, it's not bad at all for the price ($5.95), and I give the place extra points for the numerous '50s/'60s/'70s record albums (and jackets) that adorn the walls therein, especially the Dave Edmunds albums.  Kinda hard to find the place, but it's worth a stop if you're ever in the Springfield area.

LIVIN' IN THE LAP OF LUXURY
Or at least the belly-button of it, anyway.  Check out the room I stayed in, complete with wall-mounted flat screen Philips TV, spacious bathroom and two double-beds.  Think I stayed at a semi-upscale hotel chain?  Guess again—it was a Motel 6, of all things!  I stayed at this same location in Arlington Heights near O'Hare Airport about seven years ago, and it was pretty nice then, but they've since remodeled and it's now easily the nicest Motel 6 I've ever lodged at.  Even better, my room normally rents for 90 bucks a night, but I got it for the low, low price of $32.95 a night, thanks to my Internet rate and the hotel industry's current desperation to fill rooms.

REALLY GETTING MY GOAT
As planned, I paid a visit to the infamous Billy Goat tavern in the heart of Chicago's downtown underworld on lower Wacker drive, just a few blocks from the John Hancock building and Marina City.  The Goat is the original home of the late John Belushi's legendary "Cheezeborger! Cheezeborger! Cheezeborger!" skits on "Saturday Night Live", and while the layout was a bit different than the one on SNL, the feeling was pretty much the same.  That's my double cheezeborger and cheeps, and unlike on SNL, you can get a Diet Coke instead of Pepsi, if you dare.  The cheezeborger was nothing terribly spectacular, but it hit the spot and I can now say I've been to Da Goat.  The walls of the place are also adorned with numerous old newspaper articles about the guy who owned it and put the "Curse of The Goat" on the beloved Cubbies.

"OUT OF MY BRAIN ON THE TRAIN..."
I've been to Chicago at least four other times in the last 25 years, but this trip was my first experience with riding the El trains, and I was greatly impressed with how easy it is to get from one side of town to the other and back.  I've ridden St. Louis' MetroLink trains many times and enjoyed them, but the El is a totally different animal.  The ride into town from the O'Hare area was especially fun, and I was amazed at the way the train went screaming past numerous two-story houses and coming literally within five feet of people's bedrooms, which we can only hope are occupied by the deaf.  I wasn't even sure where I was when I got off the train underground inside The Loop, so my attitude was like "surprise me", and when I reached daylight again, I was right smack dab in front of the famed Chicago Theater, not far from Marina City and the Chicago Riverwalk. It took me a while to decipher all the color-coded train lines, but once I did, I had no trouble getting from downtown to Comiskey Park then back to downtown and up to Wrigley Field and ultimately over to United Center for the Blackhawks game.  The train rides were also a fun and unique opportunity to do a little people-watching during evening rush hour.  There was even a guitar player in the bowels of the subway (Johnny, I presume) "down in the tunnel tryin' to make it pay", as the Dire Straits song goes.  I found the entire El system to be totally fascinating in its scope, and I marvel at how efficiently it gets all those millions of people from place to place—Chicago would be a total clusterfuck without it.

VERTIGO IN REVERSE?
It's been a while since I've been around buildings this tall in person, and I was taken aback when I looked up at this over-sized Thermos bottle. 














These two rascals are pretty imposing from ground level, too...
































DISCO DEMOLITION, ANYBODY?
And here's the site of the infamous "Disco Sucks" riot thirty years ago this summer, better known as old Comiskey Park on the South Side.  The White Sox paved paradise and put up this parking lot, but at least had the good sense to mark where home plate was (relatively speaking anyway—home plate at Comiskey got moved around a lot over the years from season to season).  I still, for the life of me, can't understand why they didn't point the new stadium (U.S. Cellblock Field nextdoor) toward downtown instead of toward the projects where J.J., Thelma and the Militant Midget lived.

"WELL, THERE WAS ONE THING I WAS SURE PROUD TO SEE..."
...there wasn't a soul up in Section La-Dee-Dah—the skyboxes at the United Center—during the Blackhawks game I attended.  One fan I spoke to told me that's not uncommon during both 'Hawks and Bulls games at the UC, which otherwise is usually packed to the gills every night.  As for United Center overall, it's big, it's pretty, it's functional—and about as soulless as a Pat Boone record when compared with its predecessor, the mighty Chicago Stadium, which used to sit right across Madison Street.  Even with 21,000 people screaming as loud as they can during the singing of the "Star-Spangled Banner", "The Roar" wasn't nearly as ear-splitting as it once was across the street.  Still fun, though, and a great way to get pumped-up for a game.  Another new wrinkle at Blackhawks game that I love is the celebratory tune played after each 'Hawks goal, "Chesea Dagger" by a group called the Fratellis, which has become an instant favorite of mine.  Goofy little song, but it sounds great with an arena full of people chanting the "Dut-duh-duh-dut" parts.  Another thing I was pleased to see was how well they've cleaned up the area surrounding the venue, which was once a major ghetto and shooting gallery, and I felt perfectly safe walking to and from the El three blocks away.  Meantime, the 'Hawks were leading those evil Vancouver Canucks 2-1 when I left about midway through the third period, but Vancouver scored two late goals and won 3-2.  I knew I shouldn't have left them alone...

HI, BOB!
And this would be Bob and Emily Hartley's deee-luxe apartment building in the sky.  Doesn't look like it's changed much in 35 some-odd years.  If you're looking for it yourself while visiting Chi-Town, it's located at 5901 N. Sheridan Road, which morphs into Lake Shore Drive not far from Wrigley Field.













NOT PICTURED, BUT WORTH MENTIONING...
—I was quite pleased with my rented Ford Focus from Enterprise, which not only got damn good gas mileage (32 mpg on the highway), but was fully-loaded with a six-disc CD changer and Sirius XM satellite radio.  This was my first extended taste of non-terrestrial radio, and I got spoiled with it real quick.  I loved the '60s, '70s and '80s channels, as well as the numerous different Rock genre channels.  But I have to draw the line at the Springsteen Channel—you can track through his entire catalog in less than 24 hours, I would think.  And the Grateful Dead Channel?  Obee-kaybee.  There's even a Martha Stewart Channel.  Oy!

—Another pleasant surprise was the eye-candy I encountered on the streets of downtown Chicago—attractive women in skirts!  Working in the medical field, all I see anymore are chicks in scrubs, so I felt like I was on parole when I saw numerous fashionably-dressed cuties of various ages roaming the streets of the Windy City, many of them in boots, to boot.  Haven't seen that many girls in boots in the same place since Nancy Sinatra's video!  Naturally, when I got back to town here, I decided to pay a visit to our downtown in hopes of seeing more of the same, but evidently the Great Skirt Embargo is still in force here, as all I saw were gals in pants, even during the heart of the lunch hour.  We are so lame here.  D'oh!

—There is a Denny's eatery within walking distance of the hotel I stayed at, so I hoofed it over there for dinner one evening around 7:45, and I shit you not—I was the only customer in the whole place!  If it were 4:00 in the blessed A.M., this might not shock me, but it seemed pretty odd just after the dinner rush.

—On the way out of town, I endeavored to find Michael Jackson's boyhood home in Gary, Indiana, but was unable to (based on the incorrect info I had) even after Mapquesting the place.  Meantime, I got a firsthand visual on why Gary has such a poor reputation—what a depressing shithole of a city!  Slummy houses, crappy streets, dead animals everywhere—no wonder Joe Jackson whored out his talented kids to escape the clutches of such a moribund town.  Downright fugly...