The Crossroads of a Blog

So I'm at a bachelor party last Saturday afternoon discussing the state of my current blog with a fellow blogger, we'll call him Boomer, whom I respect a great deal. And somehow (maybe the 19 beers had something to with it) we came to the conclusion that Sux in the City is at a major crossroads. I love writing it each week, but it is increasingly starting to bum me out having to find things in this city to bitch about. This conversation then morphed into us quoting movies and discussing various theories that we had about our favorite flicks (the 19 beers definitely had something to with it).




Then suddenly the idea hits Boomer, "See, this is the type of blog you should be writing. People would love it!" And then it hit me, also. Yes, he's exactly right. So two hours later I jumped into a cab and went home...and then passed out on my couch. But when I awoke an hour and a half later, I conveyed this idea to Mrs. Sux in the City in a jumbled pile of slurred words and, surprisingly, she was behind it, although, she would still like me to churn out an occasional rant on Sux in the City. I made no promises, but I'm sure that I will find something to bitch and moan about pertaining to this city once in awhile. A hearty thanks to my faithful readers for staying with me as long as you did and please, please follow me to my new blog--you might like it:  My new blog

Hit & Get: Blame It On Rio

During my 8 year college pilgrimage, I learned a couple of valuable lessons. One, hang out with Jim, Jack, or Jose on separate nights but never introduce them to each other. The other being that if it weren't for multiple choice tests, I might still be searching for a major. So, in light of today's bad news from the IOC, I'd like to pose you, my dear readers, the easiest multiple choice test ever given.

1.) Choose the city that seems oddly out of place:
A.) Madrid, Spain
B.) Rio de Janeiro
C.) Tokyo, Japan
D.) Chicago, IL

I'm not saying, I'm just saying.

The Summer D.B. Awards

Apparently summer is officially over, which I deduced from being able to cut bullet proof glass with my T.H.O.'s this morning. So with that in mind, I wanted to send out a hearty congratulations to this year's nominees for The Summer Douche Bag Awards.

The People Who Don't Say "Excuse Me" After Cutting Me Off With Their Shopping Cart
OK, I can tolerate those people at Jewel or Dominick's who inexplicably stand in the middle of the bread aisle contemplating the ever exasperating question of--Wonder Bread, or Butternut? I can also stomach the 10 deep line of 90-somethings who write a check for three bananas and a can of tuna. But what I just can't handle are those rude S.O.B.'s constantly cutting me off, running into me, or walking right in front of my shopping cart and not even offering a fake "oh, excuse me" or "I'm sorry." One of these days, I would love to beat them with the blunt end of a Swifter Wet-Jet!

The 6 Dumb Asses Arrested For Protesting The 2016 Olympics: http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/2009/10/6-charged-in-burning-of-olympic-banner.html
Listen, I'm an angry, insignificant jack-ass, too. Start up a blog and complain until your heart is content like every other angry, insignificant jack-ass! It's a hell of a lot cheaper than bail, and your corn hole will remain intact. BTW, I love the fact that two of these geniuses are from the 'burbs and two are not even from Illinois--how would the inconvenience of the Olympics affect them in any way?

People Who Try To Enter The El While You Are Trying To Exit The El
This is a pretty simple concept to grasp peeps. It's the same principle that governs the exiting and entering of an elevator. As the elevator doors open, people exit the elevator and after everyone is out of the elevator then people are free to enter. So, the next time I am exiting the Brown line and you ignorantly try to push your way past me and I steam roll you out of the way causing you to miss your train, you'll have nobody to blame except for your dumb ass.


People Who Use The Word "Holla!" And Are Serious About It
I'm hip--I own three pairs of Pumas and a skinny tie, after all. OK, truth be told, I'm pretty lame--I wouldn't know Taylor Swift from Taylor Dayne. See, that's even a lame example. But there's something about hearing a college educated person, hell, even a high school educated person say "Holla!" that makes me cringe like I'm watching, well, any episode of SNL from the last five years.

Jaywalkers
As if I didn't have enough obstacles to maneuver around when I'm driving in the city, now I have to anticipate a person's/moron's ability to distinguish between a white stick figure walking and a giant orange hand indicating that pedestrians should stop walking? I say everyone hit the gas and chalk it up as population control.

Jailhouse Shock

In the city's latest attempt to increase my blood pressure, Governor Pat Quinn has decided to close the gap on the state's budget crisis by giving early release to 1,000 non-violent prison inmates this fall:
http://cbs2chicago.com/local/Quinn.prisoners.release.2.1194057.html

Yes, you have read correctly.


OK, I have decided to take a different approach in response to this abomination of an idea. Let me put on my rose colored glasses for a moment and walk my way through this ingenious idea. In order to save the state $5 million bucks, Governor Quinn is releasing 1,000 non-violent prisoners who are serving time for drug dealing, robbery, fraud, prostitution, embezzlement, and sexual harassment, etc. And let's say, for the sake of making the absurd seem ludicrous, that 50% of these "pillars of society" never commit another crime, while the other 50% do. We will have really dodged a bullet there. That means that we'll only have 500 new criminals selling drugs, robbing, and stealing from us, instead of 1,000 new criminals selling drugs, robbing, and stealing from us.

Turn that frown upside down campers! According to the aforementioned cbs2chicago.com article, "Those (non-viloent and thus saintly inmates) sent home early will be assigned a parole agent and required to wear an electronic monitoring ankle bracelet upon their early release." Whew! That made me feel better for roughly 7 seconds until I read that, "The state has 400 parole agents, who are responsible for overseeing more than 30,000 adult and juvenile parolees." So, by my grade school calculations, each parole agent is in charge of approximately 75 parolees. How's that for some quality one on one attention? If that doesn't make you feel safe at night, this won't either. Each parolee is only required to meet with their parole officer once a month.

Ok, I have torn off my rose colored shades and stomped them into tiny pieces.


The Governor will save the state $5 million bucks, yes, but what is he going to cost us in the long run? What will it cost the state to re-arrest those 500 (if we're lucky) convicted criminals again, prosecute them again, and jail them again? How much will it cost you, me, or the guy across the street when our homes or vehicles are broken into, or our identities are stolen? What will it cost the parents of a kid who is sold drugs by one of these "non-violent" criminals?

On the laundry list of "Things Chicago Doesn't Need," wouldn't 1,000 criminals being released prematurely have to be in the team photo, along with more traffic jams, more needless taxes, and colder winters? In fact, isn't the introduction of more criminals the very last thing that our city needs more of? Besides, of course, more politicians, or their disgraceful ploys at cutting into a budget deficit that they themselves have created in first place.

Come On Baby, Light My Ire

As I strolled around Soldier Field Sunday night before the U2 concert, which was an unbelievable show by the way, I couldn't help but take notice of the cast of characters that always seem to accompany such events. Yes, I have noticed them throughout the years, and I have politely tried to ignore them, but I can no longer do so. So, here is my homage to those special individuals who have touched our concert lives "lo, these many years."

The Dorky Dad Trying to "Be Cool" Around His 12 Year-Old Kid
He means well--he really does. He sprung for the tickets, he knows all of the songs by heart, which he sings aloud with his head back and eyes closed. He has the new concert t-shirt on with beer in hand. Then ruins his kid's time with constant high-fives & hugs, all while sporting a jean shorts/Crocs with socks combo. You could see the kid's horror painted all over his face as he thought to himself, "Do I really want to like a band that my father likes?"

The Over-Served Guy
U2 tickets? Check! Perfect weather for a concert? Check! Fantastic venue for a great band? Check! Consume 17 beers an hour before the concert begins? Check! Stumble through the crowd, vomit on innocent concert goers, then pass out in a bathroom stall and miss the entire concert? Check, check, check, and check!

The Over-Dressed Girl

Maybe it's because everyone knows she's from Schaumburg. Or, maybe it's because she thinks Bono will pick her out of the 70,000 peeps in the stadium and serenade her. Hell, maybe it's because daddy didn't hug her enough growing up. Whatever her reasons for wearing sequins tube tops, scuba gear bottoms masquerading as jeans, and 6 inch heels just to stand in the dark on a concrete floor for 4 1/2 hours, is just plain Audrina Patridge-like stupidity.

The Shirtless Guy

Nothing says, "Dude, I love this song" quite like taking your shirt off while 69,999 other people manage to A.) Keep a straight face and B.) Enjoy the concert without disrobing. This guy is usually one Miller-Lite away from being the Over-Served Guy, and must utter the phrase "We're going to rock out with our cocks out tonight!" to his friends (and soon to be ex-girlfriend--very soon).

The Asshole Pushing His Way Through The Crowd

As many of you may, or may not be aware, I'm nothing if not a peaceful man. I haven't gotten into an actual fight since I was in 3rd grade in which I pummeled a 5th grader named Patrick--true story. (This immediately gave me the street cred that I had always pined for growing up). Many of our city's douche bag population should thank their lucky Ed Hardy t-shirts that I am still a practicing pacifist. No other Chicagoan benefits more from my peaceful nature than this asshole. No "excuse me," no "please," no "thank you," he just pushes his way through the crowd/bar/street festival with reckless abandon. I wonder, do these people ever stop to bask in the width and depth of their own douche bagginess? Maybe that is a better question to pose to Kanye West. Although, that might impeed on their spilling beer on the crowd time, or trying to upstage a far more classier human being time--so that's probably a no. Rock on, man.

Candy Is Dandy But Liquor Is Quicker

Anyone hear about Chicago's new candy and liquor tax? Better yet, has anyone tried to decipher Chicago's new candy and liquor tax? http://www.nbcchicago.com/news/local-beat/Chicago-Braces-For-Candy-and-alcohol-tax-hike56339472.html I swear, it would be easier to understand James Brown explain the plot of 12 Monkeys while chewing Laffy Taffy, than it would be to get a clear understanding of this new tax. Maybe that's the point campers, maybe that's the point.

What's the justification for this new tax you ask? According to NBC.com, "The money is to help pay for a $31 billion statewide construction plan, including repairs to roads, schools, and bridges. " Huh. So what are the Illinois tolls and toll roads for? And, exactly where does all of that money go? (I sense a 1991 pop culture reference coming...things that make you go mmmmmmm. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Yes, I even "tight rolled" my jeans in preparation for that reference.) I love it, the city has the money to put on Oprahpalooza and the 2016 Olympics, but cries poor for anything else needed for the city.

So, is it any coincidence that this new tax hike went into effect before the biggest candy buying time of the year, like Halloween, took place? Will it also be a coincidence when the fine bars and restaurants of "the greatest city in the world" passes on the cost of this wonderful new tax onto its loyal patrons? Well, if my eight years of higher education taught me anything (emphasis on higher), it taught me that there are no coincidences in this world. Especially, when it involves the city of Chicago.

The movie Animal House has taught me many life lessons throughout the years, such as "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life." That being said (or written) we are in a recession, aren't we people? Fat, drunk, and stupid is all that I have left. Why can't they just let me at least enjoy that in peace?

The Bummer of '09

As we inch closer to the end of another glorious summer in "the greatest city in the world," I have but one question: How will you remember your summer 2009? Beach umbrellas and blankets? I certainly don't doubt the umbrella part. Not that I didn't relish every moment of those 25 days of rain during May and June. Similarly, I will always remember having to wear a sweater and jeans combo to a rooftop party in July because of our lovely weather. Those are summer memories that you just can't buy, my dear readers.

I do have to send out a hearty thank you to the great states of Florida and Wisconsin for giving me a semblance of a tan this summer. This was the first summer in recent memory where I didn't even take my shirt off in the great state of Illinois--I think we were all winners in that game. The much maligned Mother Nature does have a chance to redeem herself in my world by blessing those of us going to see Jimmy Buffett at Alpine Valley this Saturday with nice weather. The forecast for Saturday? Mostly cloudy, High 66 and low 48--what a bitch.

I certainly do not want to turn my beloved stress relieving blog into a political debate (our sponsors don't condone that here) or a long winded rant on Global Warming. I would, however, like to know how this Global Warming epidemic makes a summer cold and a winter even colder? Are you aware that we didn't hit the 90 degree mark once this past July? If Global Warming is indeed such a crisis, why am I wearing a jacket in late August? And do I really have to remind you of our 8 month winter in '08-'09? Unlike most of the questions that I pose to you here, I do actually have an answer. In true "Sux in the City" fashion though, I'll present it in question form. Did you know that the Earth's temperature has raised exactly one half of a degree in the last 30 years (according to The Weather Channel)? Wow, at that rate we will really be in trouble in about 600 years. Plan accordingly my friends.

How will I look back on the summer of '09? Well, I will always remember the summer of '09 as the summer (or final straw) that convinced me that I need to relocate to a dryer climate for my sanity's sake. Seattle or Bust!

A New Fur(low) For Chicago

Welcome back campers for another addition of "Am I insane, or just ahead of my time?" (Sadly, we all know the answer to that) I'm freshly back from Fish Creek, WI (cue the Deliverance banjo) and I never thought that I would long for Chicago drivers, but I found myself doing just that on the drive home from Wisconsin on Sunday. (Don't worry, you aren't reading Sux in the Stix--Wisconsin) Why can't Wisconsin drivers use the left hand lane correctly? That was rhetorical of course, but if any of you has a theory, I'm all ears.

As I was watching Sunday's 10 o'clock news, the story of Monday's furlough day came on. In case you don't know what I'm referencing: http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-chicago-furlough-18-aug18,0,214093.story With it came an interesting point of view from a Bucktown woman who was asked her opinion on the city's furlough day: (and I'm paraphrasing here) "It's funny how the city can afford to bring in the Air and Water Show, but it's forced to have city workers sacrifice a day's pay to make the city's ends meet. If money is such an issue, why not cancel a needless show and save money that way?" Bravo, Bravo! She sounds like a Sux in the City reader! Honestly, I sat up in bed and said aloud, "Great question!" I couldn't have said it better myself. The most preposterous thing about the Air and Water Show is the fact that admission is FREE. That's right, in the city where nothing is free, there's no admission fee for attending this event. I love Chicago logic!

I must confess, I have more questions than answers for Czar Daley concerning the furlough days. Such as, weren't we just given $1 billion dollars by the federal government as part of its stimulus package? Where, oh, where did that money go Dick, excuse me Rich? I'll get back to that in a second. Also, weren't we also given another $1.5 billion dollars by privatizing the city's parking meters? Where, oh, where has that money gone, your Czarness? Has $2.5 billion dollars already been allocated and is the city really out of money once again?

Logically, since the city is broke, they are making a gigantic bid to host the 2016 Olympic games. (I admit that I have my own selfish reasons for wanting the Olympic games held here--none of which includes me telling more out-of-towners how to get back onto Lake Shore Drive, or where Wrigley Field is). Let me wrap my mind around this mess, we don't have enough money to fulfill the city's payroll--hence the inception of the furlough day--but we do have enough money to pay for the massive construction costs to prepare for the 2016 Olympic games (if we should get them)? Either the city has the money but is saving it for the Olympic preparation and doesn't want to pay their employees, or the city doesn't have any money and 2.5 billion dollars disappeared quicker than a corn dog in Kirstie Alley's hand. It has to be one or the other doesn't it? Either way, this is down right despicable behavior, but hey, that is the Chicago way.

Maybe it is high time to start thinking outside of the proverbial box here, Mr. Mayor. Maybe the next time Kentucky Fried Chicken offers to fix our potholes for free (a sentence that I never thought I would type in my lifetime), you'll actually contemplate the idea instead of asking them for $50 million for the right to fix our potholes for free. Or perhaps you could hire someone honest to look after that $2.5 billion so it just doesn't up and disappear again. After all, that is an awful lot of zeros to be left with our fine Chicago politicians, is it?

*******I apologize for the layout of this post, but the format on my blog has been giving me problems lately********

Sorry campers, but Mrs. Sux in the City and I are taking a well deserved siesta next week to Door County, WI. So, unfortunately, you'll have to find something much more interesting than this excuse of a blog to read. I suggest reading the back of a bag of Doritos, or you could give Perez Hilton's blog a whirl. Both are mildly amusing, but mostly filled with a lot of air though. Not to worry, I'll be back soon with more nonsensical ramblings before you know it.

Can You Hear Me Now?

I apologize, my dear readers, if this topic seems as cutting edge as an idea for a new vampire movie, or new TV series about vampires, but I can't keep ignoring it any longer. Also, I realize that I am making a gross generalization here but, hey, my blog is predicated on making such generalizations. Right?

With that being said--what is it about women and their refusal to use a hands-free device with their cell phones while driving? Ladies, plugging in an earpiece into your cell phone is no more difficult than putting a toilet seat down after urinating. We, men, are constantly being scrutinized for that, along with other minor infractions--such as, taking out the trash in a timely manner, or putting our dirty clothes into the hamper. However, none of these nasty little habits of ours, mind you, puts lives in danger. Granted, installing a Bluetooth device is slightly more involved, but it's no more involved than, say, picking up a bath towel from the bathroom floor after we are done using it. Again, this little bad habit of ours has yet to induce an 8 car pile up.

The ironic thing is that if you are dating a woman or even married, it's damn near impossible to get them to answer their cell phones. If I were to call Mrs. Sux in the City right now, I'd have a better chance of seeing a 6 page Playboy spread of Susan Boyle than getting my wife to answer her cell phone. By the way, Mrs. Sux in the City yells at her mother for not answering her cell phone. That is known as poetic justice, my friends.

While we are at it, what is with putting on make-up while you are driving? Sure, men rarely stop and ask for directions, but you'd be hard pressed to find a guy doing his hair or putting deodorant on during his commute into work. Let's be honest though, I would much rather have women talking on their cell phones than putting eyeliner on while they are driving. Eyes tend to be a very important component of safe driving--at least they were when I took Driver's Ed.

OK ladies, I'll leave it up to you. You can either A.) Keep talking on your cell while driving and continue endangering the lives of drivers around you & stop pointing out our obvious faults, or B.) Buy a Bluetooth, use it, and keep the lives of drivers around you safer & continue pointing out our obvious faults, but you can't have both!

Pay To Play

I don't know about you, my fellow Crook County residents, but I'm growing increasingly weary of our politicians being on a constant pilgrimage to lighten our wallets. Whether it be Big Head Todd's refusal to rollback our sales tax, or Czar Daley's plan to make city workers take unpaid days off, or the city's new proposal to tax everyone who has brown hair. OK, I made that one up but admit it, is it really out of the realm of possibility? With our elected official's vast knowledge of screwing people out of money, how have they missed that one huge untapped resource for new revenue right in front of their faces? The Chicago tourists.

Why should tourists be exempt from all of the little, and not so little inconveniences that we experience by living here? After all, they didn't have to endure the parking meter fiasco, or the 8 months of winter this year, did they? But every summer they stumble around down town with their city maps unfolded on the never ending quest for Garrett's popcorn, The Bean, the American Girl Store, deep dish pizza, and Wrigley Field. Then, after they are finished using our resources, they hop on a flight or back into their mini-vans and saunter off into the sunset. I say that the buck should stop here. If they actually want the real "Chicago Experience," I say let's give it to them! Here is what I propose:

1) Tourists must buy day passes for the city that last from 8am until midnight ($5 off if they bring an empty Coca-Cola can, of course). If they would like a weekend pass, then they must buy a twicket. Think of Chicago as Six Flags, but with cheaper food and far less in-breeders running amok.

2) Establish and institute a "resident" and "non-resident" purchasing system here. (Hey, if the system is good enough for Wisconsin fishing licenses, it's good enough for us). Charge "non-residents" more for water, taxi rides, cigarettes, alcohol--basically everything. By doing so, the tourist can truly experience what it is like when the city that you live in pulls your pants down and tells you to grab your ankles. That is the true "Chicago Experience."

I know what you're thinking, how in the world could they ever police this? Simple. Station city workers (the creation of new jobs) outside of Wrigley Field, The Rock 'N Roll Mc Donald's, The Billy Goat Tavern, Gino's East, Navy Pier, The Sears Tower, etc. Stop everyone wearing a fanny pack, or groups of people sporting brand new Cubbie paraphernalia and check them for their "non-resident," daily, or weekend passes. If they don't have the correct documents, then that is a $75 fine--BAM, new revenue! Then affix those nice bright orange tickets to their jean shorts or fanny packs for safe keeping.

Now, I certainly do not advocate the practice of "tourist profiling," oh, who am I kidding, I would fucking love it! What would you accomplish by doing all of this? You would have a ton of new revenue, the creation of new jobs, and one very pleased city dweller and blogger.

Go Ahead, Make Yourself At Home

I am just as gullible as the next blogger, but am I really supposed to believe that one can afford a lop top, Blackberry, and iPod, yet can't afford the 40 bucks a month for Internet? It got me thinking, which is never a good thing, about the dollars and more importantly--the sense of all of this. If it costs $40 a month for high-speed Internet, then it cost approximately $1.33 a day. Now, let's assume that these, oh, let's call them loiterers, have two cups of coffee at $3 apiece, shall we? And let's also assume that these individuals hang out at the coffee shop two times a week--which is extremely generous, I think. If my public grade school math is correct, that would total $48 a month. With the extra 8 bucks in their pocket, they could buy some fresh ground coffee and relax at home.

Coffee shops have become a caffeine labyrinth of sorts. They serve food, there's free WiFi, you can shop for ultra-hip music compilations (don't feel bad if you don't recognize many of the artists--I think that is the point), they have reading material, mini-gift shops, and even a bathroom. What else does a growing Chicagoan need? It is also transcending the dating world. Having coffee for a date has almost become as popular as having cocktails with someone now. Which boggles my mind as I ponder my former dating life. Do you really want to be that awake if you happen to find yourself on an awful date? I certainly didn't, which is why I drank like Dudley Moore in Arthur to ease my pain during those instances.

Coffee itself has become rather iconic in the food and beverage world. It is what the pomegranate is aspiring to be and what the chipotle pepper has almost become. In the early '90's, it pulled a "Ronald Miller" by going from totally geek to totally chic in the matter of one Pearl Jam song. Not only did coffee reinvent itself, but it re-emerged with a hefty new price tag and convinced us all that $3-$4 is a reasonable price tag for a cup of Joe. That's pretty amazing, if you ask me.

Still, can I really blame these people for loitering all day in coffee shops in light of all this? After all, how in the world would they ever be able to impress us with how many electronic devices they own, if I did?

The Hypocrisy Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

You have to love the hypocrisy of our fair city, don't you? It could overflow the Grand Canyon 10 times over--figuratively speaking, of course. Apparently, Crook County Board President Todd Stroger is awfully upset that the Burr Oak Grave Robbing Investigation is "costing the taxpayers big time." So, according to Big Head Todd, getting justice for the families who were scammed by these pieces of human garbage falls just below the importance of having palm trees in the city of Chicago? That's right my faithful (or fateful--the jury is still out on that one) readers, in case you've missed them, we now have palm trees in our city! A few weeks back, as I was driving past Oak Street beach on Lake Shore Drive, I thought to myself--"Wow, this is exactly like being in the Caribbean...except totally different because it is 59 and raining." Hey, it was July 1st, what did I expect?

Funny, I didn't hear any complaints by Big Head Todd or Czar Daley when they cut the check for these lovely palm trees adorning our city's lakefront, did you? It gets better. Care to take a guess of how much it takes to rent these beauties? You read correctly--rent. According to http://www.chicagobusiness.com/, it costs between $450-$1000 apiece to lease these bad boys for 5 months, not to mention the labor it must have cost the city to plant them. After all, it takes five city workers to fill one pot hole here. How many do you think it takes to plant one palm tree? It gets even better. Have you driven past Oak Street beach lately and seen the palm trees? Some of the tree's once vibrant green palm leaves have now been replaced by brown wilted ones. Shocking.

To my astonishment, when I did a little research on palm trees, also known as Arecaceae, I discovered that they thrive in tropical, sub-tropical, and warm temperature climates. Who would have figured that they wouldn't be as successful in the oh, so tropical Midwest? It gives me great solace in the fact that Big Head Todd is looking out for my financial well being, how about you? By the way Todd, have you paid those back taxes yet?

Hit & Get: The Reader

Is this behavior a sign of pretentiousness, or just an utter opposition to basic human interaction? What ever the reason, it's just beyond my comprehension. Especially considering all of the fantastic people watching opportunities that would be missed if I were nose deep into The Great Gatsby instead of other people's business! In my humble (if not clearly jaded) opinion, the only two appropriate books allowed into a bar are 1.) A Bartender's Guide to Creating Great Cocktails, or 2.) 10 Easy Ways to Enjoy Yourself at a Bar Without Reading a Book.

K-Dogg would refer to this as a classic case of "Hey, look what I'm reading." This term was spawned by him last Friday when we caught a guy reading a book during the movie previews before the start of The Hangover. (I thought "jackass" was sufficient, but he has a better grasp of the English language than I do.) If you think that is the strangest example of IRS (Inappropriate Reading Syndrome) ever recorded, you'd be sorely mistaken. I actually saw a speed walker in Winnemac Park engaging in IRS a few weeks ago. In all honesty, it was virtually impossible not to notice him as he almost walked right into me and my dog while he was reading his, obviously, engrossing book.

Sadly, this is not a new phenomenon either. A few years back while doing our version of a two-man pub crawl through Lincoln Square, K-Dogg and I were greeted by a bouncer at The Huettenbar who was reading Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. You know, just a little "light reading" while the packed bar sang along with the jukebox playing "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. But hey, if you can't kick back and relax with a good book while surrounded by 50 drunken assholes screwing up the lyrics to an 80's classic, then when can you?

Say Hello to My Little Friend

Thankfully, I had a bottle of this little orange scented miracle worker hiding underneath my sink! Now, I only wasted 45 minutes of my Sunday afternoon getting my old city sticker off of my windshield, instead of wasting my entire afternoon doing so. Not that I don't enjoy having nasty gobs of glue underneath my fingernails and all over my hands. However, having my car smell like a drunk hooker who was eating a dreamsicle in my passenger seat is where I draw the line! Seriously, this is the best option that the city can come up with? Slathering on Goo Gone and scraping off the glue residue with a razor blade and my fingernails? Did I really pay $75 bucks for this aggravation? Then it hit me--yes, I actually did.

National Holiday, huh? F*** You, Pay Me!

I was just going to be content this week with blogging about lighter topics as we head into a nice long 4th of July weekend. And then it hit me--I'm not a "puppy dogs and ice cream" blogger! Actually, truth be told, I was planning on giving my blood pressure a well deserved hiatus, and then I happened on this article entitled Don't Forget To Feed Meters on Holiday: http://www.suntimes.com/news/metro/1650846,CST-NWS-closed03.article


Gee, thanks Mayor (Czar) Daley! Would it kill the city to give us a break on paying the meters, you know, on a national fucking holiday? Quick story about meters. Yesterday, I finally went to see The Hangover with my wife, K-Dogg, and our friend, Holiday (3 star movie, BTW). So I park my car in a metered lot but then noticed, as I was paying, that it had a 2 hour maximum. Now, I realize, I'm in a sticky situation. I'm 20 minutes early for the show and if I run over my time by say 7 seconds, I'm not only going to pay for over priced popcorn, but now I'll be on the hook for an extra $75 parking ticket. This is all happening, of course, because I wanted to actually enjoy my day off in the city! Greatest city in the world! So, I did the next logical thing (according to Czar Daley that is), I drove around the neighborhood to look for on the street parking. I found one, amazingly, in less than 3 hours and I was finally off to join my wife and friends at the movie theater. Convenience personified. I've said it before, and I'm sure that I'll say it again--God, I love this city!

Wok's The Matter With Me?

I thought that I would take a few moments out of my busy schedule of mourning the death of Michael Jackson, watching newscasts about his death, or reading articles about his death, and write about a few random thoughts that I have had lately (and yes, my tongue was firmly placed inside of my cheek as I wrote that sentence).

If you're like me, and God help you if you are, you find humor in just about everything that this insane world has to offer. For me, I usually find it in the local news outlets. For instance, I came across this story in the local news section of the Yahoo! website yesterday:
http://abclocal.go.com/wls/story?section=news/state&id=6891106&rss=rss-wls-article-6891106

The article explains that in Loves Park, IL there has been a ban on all ice cream trucks for decades and the city is considering lifting the ban. The reason for the ban on the ice cream trucks you may ask? Out of concern that children would run into the streets when they heard that familiar music and may be hit by the ice cream man. (comedic pause) What is the top speed of one those trucks anyway? 11 mph? Is the ice cream man really known for driving recklessly through neighborhoods? Now, obviously I do not find humor in the idea of children being run over by the ice cream man, but this ban seems a little excessive, doesn't it?

Another story that I found humorous was this story about the minimum wage increase:
http://www.wgntv.com/news/wgntv-minimum-wage-increase-june30,0,5026993.story
I really don't know what I find more amusing though; the fact that the state thinks that an extra quarter an hour is somehow life changing, or that the title of the article reads: Minimum Wage Increase Coming For Illinois Wokers (instead of Workers). Of course, being the literal idiot that I am, I immediately became excited for the chefs that prepare my Chinese take-out, because now they can almost afford to park down town for two hours with their pay increase.

Lastly, back in the day when I wore jean shorts and tied flannels around my waist (last month), Beavis and Butthead would have me in tears on a nightly basis. So image my delight when the gods sent the NBC 5 News crew into my life and blessed me with news anchors: Dick Johnson, Pete Sack, and Ellie Pai Hong. (side note: I'm giggling right now.)

Every night I'm in adolescent utopia at the very thought that at any given moment I have the chance to hear no less than 5 slang words for male and female genitalia in one broadcast--it's almost sensory overload! Now throw Ginger Zee's name into the mix and you have four rock solid (pun definitely intended) porn star names! Come on, can't you imagine the movie marquee? "Now starring in Orifice Space, Ellie Pai Hong and Pete Sack!" or "Dick Johnson and Ginger Zee go wild in Saturday Night Beaver!" BTW, if you enjoyed those movie titles, and I know that you did, then you'll love this website: http://www.funnytitles.com/

Yes, I'm fully aware that I am going straight to hell with a straight jacket on, but this crap still makes me laugh. Here's to hoping that the devil has a sense of humor. Happy 4th of July!

The Waste of Chicago

To steal a phrase from a good friend of mine, oh let's call her KTOB, "I'd rather get shot in the face with a shit pistol" than go to The Taste of Chicago for five minutes! How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways....

The Weather
Is it just me (don't answer that) but how does this shit show's arrival always seem to coincide with the hottest and haziest day that this city can squeeze from its bowels? Even in a year such as this one where we have somehow managed to trade climates with Seattle, we are still expected to exceed 90 degree temps with plenty of humidity this weekend. Also, factor in the heat generated from the ovens and grills used to prepare the food at The Waste, and it feels as if you are trapped inside of Satan's armpit. Now, doesn't that give you the hankering for a whole turkey leg?

The People
Sure, the sheer number of sweaty and rude people who pack The Waste every year are enough to make Betty White use the "C" word, but the quality of these people is my main concern. Here are some of my past favorites:

-The "tank top tucked into jeans" guy: He usually has a 'stache or mullet or both, his tank top reads "Free Mustache Rides," and uses a red bandanna to wipe sweat from his brow and back. He's the guy trying to eat his BBQ ribs while cruising the fest for all of the high school chicks.

-The "over-served shirtless" guy: He's the one sitting on the curb next to his stack of empty beer cups. He's sun burned, has his back pack on, and is trying to eat a piece of Lou Malnati's pizza, but his flimsy plastic fork keeps breaking. BTW, he rode his Trek bike there, but can't remember where he left it.

-The "fanny pack and pleated shorts" woman: She is sporting a a feathered she-mullet, a blue Kerry Wood t-shirt, walking around pushing a stroller with one hand, eating an ear of corn with the other hand and is asking "How far are we from Wrigley Field?"

-The "Chicago Bear or Cub or Sox jersey and jean shorts" guy: He's "fanny pack's" boyfriend, or common law husband and is in charge of her two other small children under the age of 4. He's wearing brown "mandals" or white sneakers and socks, Oakley sunglasses, and is walking around eating a combo from Buona Beef.

(Side note: Don't expect an "excuse me" from any of these lovely people as they bump into you throughout the day.)

The irony of this whole thing is that even though The Waste takes place in the city, most Chicagoans avoid it like a Cuba Gooding, Jr. movie. Sure, a great number of city dwellers who work down town stop by on their lunch breaks, but I cannot even recall an instance where any of my city friends has suggested that we go there for the day. And I have lived here for 9 years now.

The Food
Oh make no mistake, Chicago has outstanding food and restaurants. So why not just go to your favorite Chicago restaurant and have a more enjoyable experience? Unless, of course, you are one of those rare individuals that prefer standing and sweating while you dine. Just crunch the numbers and consider these three factors:

-It's cheaper to valet your car than park it in a parking garage.

-You can actually sit and enjoy your food at a table with utensils.

-No one is sweating into your food, and you are not sweating while you eat.

After all, in these hard economic times, one has to consider all of their options carefully. Although, if you are one to wear fanny packs, or tank tops tucked into jeans out in public, The Waste just might be your cup of luke warm beer. Enjoy!

And the D.B. goes to......

This topic is fueled by my complete and utter displeasure with Mother Nature--the bitch. And since Mother Nature is not an actual living, breathing, c. u. next Tuesday of a human being, I can't really call her up and complain, now can I? So, I'm going to do the next best thing. I have chosen to take out my rage on others to make myself feel better--it's the Chicago way!

During my travels through the raindrops this spring, I have noticed more than a few activities of some individuals who should either have their heads examined, or be hit on top of the head repeatedly with a tack hammer (Of course, I would prefer it to be the latter). So, without further ado, here are my early nominees for The Douche Bag of the Year Award.

5.) Bikers

Yes, I'm referring to those wonderful people sporting the "I'm actually a writer when I'm not riding this bike" beard, carrying a canvas man bag, and have their right pant leg rolled up. I'm not asking too much from you here, am I? Just follow the rules of the road--period. If there's a four way stop--stop, until it's your turn to go and then proceed. If there's a red light-- just stop. This is for your own well-being. In the eternal battle of Mountain Bike vs. SUV, I'm pretty sure that the 4,000 lbs. car will beat you and your copy of The Collected Works of John Updike to the collective pavement.

My suggested punishment: Bikers should have to ride their bikes without a seat for a week for each offense, or be forced to throw away their herringbone blazer with the leather elbow pads.

4.) Parents who bring baby strollers to street festivals

Seriously, why? As you leer at me in disgust for getting in your way as I attempt to make my way through the crowd with two 32 oz. lagers and a pretzel, just remember, you did not have to bring a baby, or their stroller here! News flash, this is a street festival, there might be a few hundred people that show up to drink beer and walk around. Pan the crowd, how many other people do you see walking around with a stroller? The answer--about 10%--who is the dope here?

My suggested punishment: I have a soft spot for new parents, so no shopping at The Baby Gap for two weeks for each offense, or buy everyone at the street festival a beer.

3.) People who don't use their turn signal

There you are--on your way home from work. You pull up to a red light thinking about what to have for dinner while listening to your favorite song on the radio. As the light turns green, the car in front of you slowly creeps out into traffic and then inexplicably fucks you over as they, now, finally decide to put their left turn signal on. You're stuck, cars are zooming past you on your right side, as they take great pleasure in not letting you cut over and pass the jackass in front of you. These are the times that I wish that I had a machine gun fashioned to the hood of my car (like the 80's video game Spyhunter) for such occasions.

My suggested punishment: The offender may not make a left turn in the city for a month, or they must watch anything written by, or presented by Tyler Perry for 24 hours straight (although the latter may be a bit too cruel).

2.) The Bluetooth Guy/The Speakerphone Guy

This is simple. We (as in everyone but you) don't care how important that you think your conversation is, we simply do not care. Real Estate sales are deader than Taylor Hicks' career. Sales, in general, are down across the industries. Investment Bankers are grabbing their ankles and smiling like a doughnut, and I don't see a legal pad, or stethoscope on your person. This would logically mean that you are an average schmo, just like the rest of us. So just let us eat, get our cup of coffee, and take a piss in peace, we beg of you!

My suggested punishment: Each offender must use a Zack Morris-esque, old style cell phone for three weeks for each offense, or must take a pill that, literally, turns their teeth blue for two weeks.

1.) People who take up two parking spaces with their car

As an outside salesman, I probably experience this lack of human decency no less than 5 times a day. Is it really that difficult to park your vehicle between two yellow lines, or to double check that you are indeed between the two yellow lines before you leave your car? This a classless and ignorant thing to do to your fellow Chicagoans and should not be tolerated. K-Dogg and I have left curt notes on the windshields of these people in the past. I highly suggest that everyone do so, as well. It is liberating and a somewhat therapeutic thing to do for yourself, but it also calls out the rude behavior to the offender.

My suggested punishment: The city and parking garages should devise a system to mark these vehicles and charge them double the parking rate (seems like a process that the city would take great pleasure in). After all, they are taking up two spaces. Or, the offenders should have their eyelids stapled to their foreheads while they're forced to watch a triple feature comprised of: Rhinestone, Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, and Soul Man. Hey, the punishment should fit the crime!

Rain, Rain Go Away......

...please stop fucking up my day!!! Anybody else sick and tired of looking up into the Chicago sky and seeing this? (I'm raising my hand) Seriously, we are going on 8 months of awful weather here in the "greatest city in the world!" Have I been mistaken all of my life, but doesn't the old saying go "April showers bring May flowers" not "April, May, and June showers bring July flowers?" Just wondering.

The F Word

Fail. One word. Four letters. Yet, it speaks volumes about Chicago's parking meter situation doesn't it?

Men Not at Work

Anyone else notice that every other block in the city looks like this? Seriously, what's going on here? The above pics were taken yesterday in three different areas in the city that have been "under repair" for 2+ weeks. Kudos to the city for wanting to repair our streets. However, part of the repairing process would be to actually complete a job once in awhile, or better yet at least have a worker or two pretend that they are going to work on it.

Hit & Get: Big Head Todd & The Sheister

Anybody else find it interesting that there is an $11, 668.10 income tax lien on "Crook" County President Todd Stroger's south side property, and by interesting I mean hilarious, of course. Yes, this is the same man who vetoed a repeal of the controversial sales tax increase--currently at 10.25% for those of you playing along at home. And this is the man who we're looking to for financial expertise? Isn't this like hiring Mike Tyson as your Life Coach, or having Amy Winehouse as your Dietitian?

Here are the numbers according to http://www.wbbm780.com/: Todd Stroger owes the IRS $11, 668.10--since 2007, mind you. He makes $170,000 a year as Crook County President, and his wife brings in $60,000 a year for a grand total of $260,000 of yearly income at the Stroger household. Yet, he hasn't been able to pay the IRS this money for over two years, has a lien against his property, and he knows what's best for the county financially? Makes perfect Chicago sense to me! Here's some more nuggets of wisdom from a recent WVON-AM radio interview that Stroger gave, and by "nuggets" I mean horse shit, of course:

"(the federal tax bill) was too big for me to handle at one time." You've had two years and over $500k of total income since then! Who has been balancing your checkbook at home, Bernie Madoff?

"I didn't see that coming," when asked if he was surprised about the lien that the IRS put on his property, after his back taxes haven't been paid for two years. Didn't see it coming? Obviously, Todd must have also been shocked when Clay Aiken came out of the closet, when Rocky beat Drago in Rocky IV, and when the sun rose in the east and set in the west yesterday.

However, my favorite "nuggets" came from an interview with ABC7 News and our county President. Stroger said that he plans to seek re-election in 2010, "I'm running," he said and then added that "Our government is in great shape." You know, maybe Tyson and Winehouse aren't looking that bad after all. Anyone have their cell numbers? I've said it before and I'll say it again--I love this city!

The State of Chicago

Yes my faithful four readers, I'm back and I'm so thankful that I didn't lose any of you to the dreaded Swine Flu epidemic, oh I'm sorry, the H1N1 flu virus--it just rolls off the tongue so beautifully, doesn't it? Anyway, the Key West vacation was a great success and surprisingly, it even helped spawn my new blog topic. It is something that has fascinated me for years and has even made me cock my head like a confused dog on more than a few occasions. Here is the scenario:

There I am, in Key West with my lovely wife basking in the sunshine. We're in the pool enjoying our cocktails (very classy, I know), as we strike up a friendly conversation with a few ladies who are also drinking in the pool. The conversation went something like this:

Mrs. Sux in the City: So where are you ladies from?

Our new brunette friend: Minnesota, how about you two?

Mr. Sux in the City: We are from Chicago.

Our new blond friend: Oh wow, I lived in Chicago for awhile!

Mr. Sux in the City: Really? Where at in the city?

Our new blond friend: In Glen Ellyn.

Mr. Sux in the City: (head cocked like a confused dog) Huh. That's cool.

For those of you in my reading audience who don't know, Glen Ellyn is 30 miles west of the city, which hardly qualifies as Chicago. Now, K-Dogg claims that I'm being too hard on these people and constantly begs, "But you know what they mean--you live here. They mean the Chicagoland area." Precisely. I'm from here, so just say Glen Ellyn. If I was from Colorado or Texas, then you use the old "I'm from Chicago" routine, because how in the hell am I supposed to know where the hell Glen Ellyn is anyway? And to illustrate my point further, this conversation took place not 3 hours later on our hotel shuttle ride into Key West:

Mrs. Sux in the City: We canceled our Mexico trip, but we love it here--it's a hell of a lot better than Chicago!

Very nice older man: No kidding, we're from Chicago, too!

Mr. Sux in the City: Really, what part of the city do you live in?

Very nice older lady: Tinley Park.

Mr. Sux in the City: (head cocked like a confused dog again) Huh. Small world.

What is with this phenomenon? Do people who live in Irvine, CA say that they are from L.A.? Do people from Astoria, WA claim to be from Seattle (of course I had to look at a map for that info--that and I love The Goonies--sue me)? This is an outrage! I mean we have to put up with a hell of a lot to live here, as chronicled in my nonsensical rants every week. Why should somebody get to claim that they live in Chicago when they live 30 miles away?

I say we have some parameters put into place here. How about having a (312) or (773) prefix on your home phone number at least? Are we the only state that fails to acknowledge it's own existence? I tend to believe that we are the only state that does this and here's why. You may remember that when my wife asked our new friends at the pool where they were from, they said Minnesota not Minneapolis. And when I struck up a conversation with a couple of guys in said pool a few minutes later--one said he was from Oshgosh, WI and the other from Billerica, MA, they did not claim to be from Milwaukee and Boston.

I get the attraction. My own hometown is pitiful ol' Joliet, IL., or "Toiliet" as I like to call it. The only claims to fame that we have there is Stateville Prison, a reference in The Blues Brothers, and the model who married Peter Brady grew up there and that's it. The armpit of Illinois it is, Chicago it ain't!

Key West, Here We Come!!!

As I pack for my Key West vacation, which was a Mexico vacation until this week's mass hysteria, I wanted to leave my faithful three readers with a few parting thoughts before I leave. As you are all gathering animals two by two next week in the city, I want you to thank your lucky stars that we have such brilliant weathermen here to issue a "Flood Advisory" yesterday for the Chicagoland area. Apparently, this is for those of you who are blind, don't have any windows, or haven't been outside in the last 6 days. Who would've have thought that 6 straight days of rain would cause a lot of standing water?

Also, isn't it amazing how every newspaper, every news broadcast, every radio station, hell even the bums begging for change at Dunkin' Donuts are constantly cramming the paranoia of the Swine Flu down our throats, and then urging the public not to panic? I don't know about my wife, but I'm sporting a bio-hazard suit and sandals for our flight to FL tomorrow. Now I'm just praying that nobody sneezes on the runway at O'Hare causing us to be delayed. By the way, according to http://www.cdc.gov/, approximately 36,000 people die each year from influenza. The Swine Flu has had a reported 257 cases worldwide with a total of 8 deaths, or roughly half the number of shootings that will occur this weekend on the southside. Might we be slightly overreacting a little bit?

An Inconvenient Truth

We've all been through it before with Ticketmaster. When you'd pick-up concert or sporting event tickets at a local Ticketmaster location and they would charge you the dreaded "convenience charge." To be completely honest, I have never had a big problem with this concept because it was, after all, convenient to go to my local Ticketmaster location and buy whatever ticket that I wanted instead of going through a scalper, or the pain of going to the actual venue. It truly was convenient.

When I'm hard up for alcohol, or a frozen pizza, or a Slurpee--what's more convenient than going to a Convenience Store? Sure their prices are 20-30% more expensive than going to Jewel or Dominick's and English is not the primary language spoken there, but damn it it's convenient. You see, I don't mind paying a little bit more for something when it makes my life a little bit easier--it's supposed to be a reciprocal relationship, isn't it? So with that concept in mind, I have a question for my loyal three readers; if we are paying premium prices to live in Chicago, why is it so inconvenient to live here? Shouldn't the suburbs be more expensive to live in since it is definitely more convenient to live out there?

In the city, we pay more for real estate, gasoline, cable TV, cigarettes, alcohol, groceries, parking--all staples for the most part. We have to endure the horrible traffic, over priced parking garages and meters, bogus parking tickets, 10.25 % sales tax, potholes that will never be fixed, and highways that are always under construction! If you raise a family here would you be comfortable sending your children through the Chicago Public School system? After all, we pay taxes for these schools don't we? Sure, if you'd like to fast track your kids to an early grave, or a nice bright orange prison jumpsuit. So this means you'd be sending your children to private schools and having to pay a somewhat different kind of convenience charge for grade school, junior high, and high school even though you pay taxes for public schools that you can't use.

So let me get this straight; you pay more for a condo and property taxes for a condo that you can't sell, you drive a car that you can't park, or actually drive because of the awful traffic, you also drive a car that can be destroyed by a pothole even though you pay taxes for somebody to repair the potholes even though nobody repairs them--same goes for the highways--we have wonderful stores to shop at, but you can't shop here because the sales tax is ridiculously high, same goes for liquor and cigarettes. You do all of this just so you can get married, have children, and move away from the city because you can't send them to the Chicago Public School system because it's horrible and dangerous--even though you have been paying taxes for said schools that you will never be able to use anyway. Sound accurate?

What is so convenient about any of these inconveniences for a city dweller? Just so I can have the luxury of cool bars, better restaurants (a debatable topic) and live closer to where I work? This doesn't seem like a fair trade to me. I thought that this was a reciprocal relationship, right Mr. Mayor? Mr. Stroger? Govorner Quinn? Can anybody give me answer? Nobody is talking, huh? How convenient.

Hit & Get: Another Life Lesson Learned

While driving to Target today to drop my customary $100 on nothing that I really needed, I had to swerve my car abruptly around a gentlemen standing in the middle of the street impatiently looking for his bus. Now, I have never professed to be a genius (for obvious reasons), but does that really work? Does standing in the middle of a very busy street make the bus drivers pick you up quicker? Maybe it's just me, but I was under the impression that it is a bad thing to get run over by an SUV going 45 mph. Naively, I always thought that being a few minutes late was a much better alternative than death, but obviously, I was mistaken. Thanks Chicago, for teaching me another valuable life lesson!

Hit & Get: I have a "random" question.

As I was browsing through my wife's CD collection the other day, I found one that had "Random Mix" written on it. Now maybe it's because I have an English degree and I'm being too literal, or perhaps it's my psychosis flaring up again (probably the latter), but somehow Americans have managed to change the meaning of a word simply by misusing it constantly. That is pretty impressive, if you ask me.

We have all said or heard someone say it, "I went home with some random guy/girl last night that I met at a bar." So are we supposed to believe that this person covered their eyes and arbitrarily picked someone from a crowded bar to go home with? Sort of like a "Pin the Tail on the Hook-up," perhaps? Now that would be a great drinking game! When someone posts pictures on Facebook under the title, "Random Pics," are these pictures that were snapped indiscriminately of odd people and places? From my experience, no. In fact, these pictures have posed people smiling for the camera like they knew their picture was about to be taken.

So when and how did America begin using the word random incorrectly in sentences? Webster's dictionary defines the word random as: occurring without definite aim, reason, or pattern. Synonyms include: chance, haphazard, and indiscriminate. If that's an accurate definition, then why do so many people use random as a synonym for weird, strange, or odd? Just a random question.

Finger Lickin' Good...Potholes?

As my wife and I drove to Easter "linner" yesterday (that's a hybrid of lunch & dinner b/c my parents refuse to eat dinner at a normal time), we engaged in a little game that I like to call "Dodge the Pothole and Live to Tell About It." This is a progressive game that can be enjoyed all year long simply by replacing the word "pothole" with different city obstacles such as, bikers, cabs, buses, pedestrians, etc. Nevertheless, it reminded me of a story that I read about a few weeks back and wanted to address.

Apparently, Kentucky Fried Chicken has given me yet another reason to love them. No, it has nothing to do with the introduction of their new Mashed Potato Bowl, but a far more concrete reason, or asphalt to be exact. A few weeks ago, the brass over at KFC headquarters came up with an interesting proposition for our fair city. They want to fill all of Chicago's treacherous potholes for free. Yes, you read me correctly--they want to fix all of our potholes for FREE. The only thing that KFC asks in return is to leave a stenciled KFC logo on the repaired pothole. Sounds like a fair trade to me.

After hearing this amazingly generous offer, Mayor Daley's response? "If they give us $25 million or $30 million, we'd be glad to look at it. I want the money up front. I'll take $50 million, if you give me $50 million." So let me get this straight. Someone wants to come to our city and fix one of the biggest problems that face city drivers these days--for free, and you want to charge them millions of dollars to come here and make our huge problem disappear. That sounds like perfect Chicago logic, doesn't it? And I'm sure that $50 million would go straight to bettering the school system in Chicago, and not into envelopes passed underneath dinner tables at Gibson's and Gene and Georgetti's!

Chicago Department of Transportation Commissioner Tom Byrne's reaction to KFC's unbelievable offer? Well, he's worried about the "quality of asphalt KFC intends to use" and has concerns about "KFC's plan to paint ads on the repaired potholes." I hate to point out the obvious here, but we have a pothole problem in Chicago every year Tom, why not check the quality of asphalt that the city has been using? Also, have you checked out the side of a CTA bus lately? The Real Housewives of NYC is on Tuesdays at 10pm. How do I know this? Because I read it on the side of one of your buses! Could it be that you don't want KFC coming into Chicago and showing the public that 6 city workers are not needed to fill one pothole? Again, this makes perfect Chicago sense!

Obviously the city has our pothole problem well under control. That's why last Wednesday as I watched the 10 o'clock news, I saw a story about west side residents in the Austin neighborhood who were so fed up with their pothole problem, that they began filling up the potholes themselves. Amazingly, even though these gentlemen weren't city trained experts, it only took the two of them a few minutes to fix each pothole. No reports on what they stenciled on the their potholes, but if it were me, a big middle finger would have been my choice.

Hit & Get: Is this what they meant by "change?"

In an effort to make everyone's parking lives even more miserable, if that's possible, the city in it's infinite lack of wisdom raised the price for parking meters to 25 cents per 15 minutes, and in some areas 25 cents will only net you a whopping 7 minutes. So instead of getting your standard 2 hour parking for 50 cents (in most areas), that will now cost you around $4, or 16 quarters to be precise. That seems convenient, huh? Yeah, for those of you who walk around with a change dispenser attached to your belt like the old ice cream man used to have.

Not surprisgly, there have been slight problems that have arisen from the city's latest efforts to legalize highway robbery. For instance, now the meters are filling up at a much faster rate than before, and when they are completely full, they cease to work. Who could've seen that coming? Did no one anticipate this being a problem when brainstorming this little horse apple of an idea? Not one person realized that 16>2, and there might be complications? What's next? You park your car in a metered spot, then a couple of city officials grab you by the ankles, turn you upside down and shake all the money out of your pockets? Oh silly me, that only happens when you have to pay your property taxes! My bad.

The Golden Rule

Hello my fellow Chicagoans and welcome to another edition of "my psychosis and me"--hey, it's cheaper than therapy and I don't need a prescription for it. My quest is simple. I'm simply out to prove that Chicago, while a very fun and exciting place, is not the greatest city to live in. And in my never ending mission to prove this hypothesis, I came up with another reason why Chicago is an overrated place to live-- the impolite douche bags who reside here.

We have all heard the term "The Golden Rule" from our parents, grandparents, teachers, and clergy, "Treat others how you'd like to be treated," right? Well if that's a true statement, then we have a lot of masochists living amongst us these days. Being in sales, I subscribe wholeheartedly to a principle that's known as the "80/20 Rule." The principle simply states that 80% of your total sales is generated by the top 20% of your clients. Therefore, I have deduced that 80% of Chicago's rudeness is produced by the top 20% of its douche bags. What qualifies someone as a douche bag in my eyes? I thought you'd never ask! Here are some of my personal favorites.

Let's start with the obvious ones. How about people who blatantly litter? My wife and I live on the north side and every morning while walking our dog we are treated to trash covered sidewalks on our busy street. And I'm not talking about cigarette butts, or gum wrappers either. I'm talking about half eaten chili dogs and chicken legs, half full Big Gulp cups, broken beer bottles, unbroken Wild Irish Rose bottles, and my personal favorite--a half devoured order of chicken fried rice complete with fork and white container. The city goes out of its way to provide garbage cans and dumpsters (I criticize, but I also give credit when it's due) on many street corners--USE THEM! Is it really that hard to carry your finished chicken leg to a receptacle on the next block people?

How about people who constantly honk their horns? This is not aimed at people who use the horn properly. This is clearly aimed at the jackasses who lay on their horns for longer than 5 seconds. We get it, you're angry that the car in front of you didn't realize that the light turned green fast enough for your liking, but after 5 seconds--let it go, man. The car horn is a communication device installed on your car to warn others of your presence, or to give a "heads-up" to a fellow driver. It is NOT installed so that you can enter into car honking "pissing contests" with the guy in front of you! The commute is long enough, please stop making it anymore annoying than it has to be.

While we are on the topic of vehicular rudeness, can we discuss the "non-waving" community of drivers out there? Hey douche bag, I made an effort to make your commute easier and slightly less annoying--how about a courtesy wave, huh? I don't need a smile or an inaudible mimed thank you with a raised open palm (the highest form of automobile courtesy in my opinion), I just want the slightest bit of common courtesy! I realize that you are in a mad rush to order your grande, non-fat, no whip, mocha served at 120 degrees, and that your time is way more valuable than mine, but everyone has time to hold up their non-driving hand for 1.5 seconds to recognize a small kindness. I know from daily experience that if I start my day off with a friendly waver, I am definitely more likely to continue helping out my fellow Chicagoan the rest of the day. Conversely, if I start my day off with a non-waver, you'd better have either a 20 spot, or a piece of Malnati's pizza (equivalents in my world) for me, or you're not getting in.

I could go on for days on this topic, but mercifully I will finish with one of my least favorite people in the city--the "I'm going to walk as slow as humanly possible through this crosswalk just so you can't turn your vehicle in time to catch that light" people. What exactly is the purpose of this exercise (pun intended) anyway? I swear it's on purpose. Hell, I know it's on purpose (more on that very soon). A lot of you already have running shoes on, so why not pick up the pace to say the pace of a sloth with a bad ankle?

Not to fear my dear reader, I have cracked the case on this one--today as a matter of fact. I found myself walking slower and slower through downtown crosswalks when cars wanted to turn. Why you ask? To get even with people that do the exact same thing to me every day--how sick and twisted is that? Which is precisely why I'm going to stop doing it immediately and stop perpetuating this idiotic behavior. You see my friends (cue "America The Beautiful" by Ray Charles), I truly believe that being less and less of a douche bag myself can make a difference in this city. And since I'm stuck with my condo for the foreseeable future, I want to do my small part in helping this once great city of ours in it's desperate time of need--so I can sell it for all it's worth and make a fast getaway to the 'burbs!

The Maiden Voyage P.S.

P.S. I just wanted to give the Chicago weathermen a great big "thank you" for illustrating my first blog so beautifully! Yesterday's forecast: high 30's-low 40's with snow showers. Today's real weather: mid 40's and partly sunny. I'm sure that the Chicago White Sox brass are so thankful that they listened to your "forecasts" last night and prematurely cancelled opening day. I knew I should have went all "Johnny Lawrence" of The Cobra Kai on Tom Skilling when I had the chance! Until we meet again, Skilling.