I'm eating a greasy hamburger... tell Michelle Obama to f*** off.

  So I’m sitting there watching TV when I see an obviously stereotypical ad that McDonalds is running to get people to eat their burgers.  Apparently, McDonalds has come up with a novel idea to reinvent the famed quarter pounder sandwich.  Now the QPD comes in three distinct varieties.  One has bacon on it and one has Chipotle sauce or whatever the else kind of sauce seems to be on burgers being rebooted these days.  I went into a Burger King the other day and someone held up the line to order a grilled fish sandwich from Alaska.  Or maybe the fisherman found the fish in Alaska and raised it a vegan before it sacrificed itself to the calorie conscious masses.  Who knows?  The point is, why does it matter if McDonalds and Burger King class up the menu for the sake of the health conscious.  Isn’t that what Burger King and McDonald deal in, comfort food?  I still have fond memories of being on a bender with my ex and us finding our way to the nearest Golden Arch for a Big Mac or two.  And it wasn’t a tofu Big Mac with ranchero sauce or Chipotle sauce and it wasn’t trucked in from an organic mountain someplace.  It was just a Big Mac.  It was just a piece of meat on a bun with sauce and cheese and it tasted damn good going down with a coca cola and some of those McDonalds fries.  If I want an emphasis on all things vapid and self involved and mass produced, I go to Starbucks.  These days, when I go into a McDonalds, it’s hard to tell the difference.  I want my roll up menu boards back.  I want my regular quarter pounder and I want my double quarter pounder without having to look at a friggin calorie index.  That’s why I go to McDonalds and or Burger King, to get away from the health Nazi’s who are constantly telling me that every good tasting thing that I put into my body will eventually kill me.  Never mind all of the health nuts who purify their bodies and then drop dead on a running lane because of a…. (Wait for it)  DING DING DING!!!  A heart attack!!!  Michelle Obama, fuck off.  Fuck off and leave my fast food joints alone.  Fuck off all of you people who want to eat gluten free pizza or pizza with mozzarella that was blessed by Buddha or whatever the fuck else.  Fuck off all you health nuts and leave me alone while I eat my greasy NYC style pizza from my neighborhood pizzeria with the sticky porno floors and all the ambiance of a crack house.  Fuck heart healthy and fuck everyone who panics about their kids eating crap.  You want to help your kids?  Fine.  Then  do yourself a favor and join me in a chorus of Michelle Obama will you please shut the fuck up and stop telling America’s kids what to eat.  The reaper isn’t lurking beyond the corner with a sickle every time someone takes a bit of a hamburger or a slice of pizza.  When your time is up, your time is up.  It doesn’t matter if you eat granola or tofu or you eat steak religiously.  Kids need to learn moderation.  Just like I learned, when I was oh fifteen or sixteen, that those second or fourth helpings don’t really help you in the long run.  We need to teach kids a sense of moderation but we don’t need Michelle Obama running around with a bullhorn screaming at every kid like their Private Pyle in “Full Metal Jacket” about the jelly donut that they stuck for themselves.  Oh it’s my turn in line…. “Double Quarter pounder with cheese extra value meal and um…. Tell Michelle Obama and the rest of the food Nazi’s to kiss my ass.”  Resist Tyranny!!! Toot!!! Toot!!!

The Friday Rant

  It’s been a long week so with your permission, I’m going to rant a bit.  First, to all of the Paula Dean supporters out there.  Listen, stop badgering Giada DeLaurentis to step in and speak up on old Paula’s behalf.  Let’s be real here.  Paula Dean stepped on a tripwire and blew herself up.  It happens in the world of a celebrity or whatever Paula Dean is or was.  To expect Giada DeLaurentis to step into the breach and blow up her own career is just plain asinine.  Why would expect you ANYONE to step up and come to the defense of someone who is as radioactive as Paula Dean is right now.   Now then, onto all of the liberals in Hollywood who are celebrating DOMA’S defeat.  DOMA, FYI, is the Defense of Marriage Act that essentially outlaws gay marriage.  Everyone is tweeting like this was a clear cut decision for equality and it’s a snow job.  The Supreme Court spoke out of both sides of its mouth and didn’t strike a blow for anything.  What they did was cast themselves as do-gooders for equality.  What they did was position themselves, politically, to be seen as striking a blow for progressiveness.  In reality, they cast each state that opposes gay marriage as the heavy.  See, DOMA is dead but each state has the option of not recognizing same sex couples or gay marriage as a whole.  Here’s how it will go.  Someone with clout and money will start clucking about how the earth will split in half ala Caligula if gays and lesbians are allowed to marry.  And suddenly the political winds will change yet again and the Supreme Court will surrender what autonomy it has left in the name of saving face.  Think I’m off base?  Maybe.  In my world, politics is politics and nobody plays politics like the Supreme Court.  Moving on.  The next item on my radar… Oh yes, a local nugget about an aldermanic demi gog who continues to turn a simple negotiation with my favorite North Side baseball team into a Seinfeld episode.    Yesterday, Tom Tunney aka the godfather of the 44^th ward decided that the Chicago Cubs and their plans to renovate Wrigley Field was a bit to audacious to see the light of day.  This was after a compromise between Tunney and Cubs owner Tom Ricketts and the roof top owners was essentially hammered out in principle.   Only in Chicago can you have an Alderman of a given ward sabotage a project in which the ownership group, the Ricketts family, has agreed to foot the bill for their own renovation project.  The very things that Tom Tunney wants to scrap from the renovation project are the very things that the Ricketts family needs to pay for the renovation.  But of course Tunney was the one who stood on his soapbox and screamed bloody murder when the idea of a publicly funded renovation package was floated.  So which is it Mister Tunney?  You didn’t want the Ricketts family to use public funds to pay to for the renovation.  Yet, you won’t get out of the way so the Ricketts family can pay for it on their own dime?  And if you’re one of those people complaining about big business crushing the little guy roof top owners, you can stop right there.  The roof top owners aren’t under dogs; this isn’t Mister Smith Goes to Washington.  What it is is Tom Tunney protecting a potential voting bloc aka the roof top owners by giving them carte blanche to profit off of someone else’s business.  Citizens of Chicago, heed the words of DJ Love in “Do the Right Thing.”  V-O-T-E.  Vote out Pat Quinn and vote out every democrat who has run this state into the ground.  But don’t stop there.  No no.  Vote out Tom Tunney while you’re at it my fellow Chicagoans.  If you care about baseball on the North Side and you’re as angry about Tom Tunney’s abuse of power and his general sense of being obtuse….. V-O-T-E.   Resist Tyranny!!!  Toot!!!  Toot!!! 

DOMA is dead..... now read the contract,

  Those guys and gals at the Supreme Court almost got me today.  Here I thought that they acted decisively to try and end DOMA.  But, as is usually the case with the Supreme Court, one needs to read between the lines.  I’m reading various articles about today’s striking down of DOMA or the Defense of Marriage Act and it seems like it’s merely a split decision coated in political pandering.  Essentially, the Supreme Court struck down DOMA.  So that’s a victory for anyone, like me, who believes that it’s preposterous for a state say, like California, to spend resources it doesn’t have trying to prevent  gays and lesbians from getting married.  But then there was a second case you see.  And in that case, the Supreme Court said that it could not rule on a challenge to Proposition 8.  Now Proposition 8, as we all know, bans gay marriage in California.  So let me see if I have this right.  DOMA has been struck down as unconstitutional but the Supreme Court felt that there weren’t enough Constitutional grounds to strike down Prop 8.  If DOMA is unconstitutional then it stands to reason that Prop 8 is ALSO unconstitutional, yes?  So basically, the Supreme Court struck down one form of hateful rhetoric while punting on the other one.  Here’s a quote from John Eastman, chairman of the National Organization for Marriage.

“We clearly have a mixed ruling here; Justice Kennedy did not say that all states must recognize same-sex marriage. In fact, his opinion is full of deference to the states’ determination of marriage policy.”

  Far be it from me to agree with the Stone Age thinking of The National Organization of Marriage but the man does have a point.  Lost in all of this euphoria over DOMA’S defeat is the shell game that the Supreme Court is playing here.  Basically, DOMA, according to today’s ruling by the Supreme Court, is unconstitutional.  BUT…. it’s up to the given state in question to decide if they think that banning Gay Marriage is a constitutional no no.  Here’s what I advise.  Enjoy this great day for equality ladies and gentlemen but temper your euphoria.  And then after the Euphoria tempers, take a good look at what the Supreme Court is REALLY offering here.  They’ve given the advocates for gay marriage a contract for equality filled with fine print galore.  And I guess it goes without saying that that fine print is definitely political in nature.  In other words, the political winds giveth and the political winds thou take it away.  The Supreme Court waffled its way into a politically appeasing compromise for both sides of the gay marriage ledger.  They straddled the fence and they paid lip service to a rather pertinent issue.  If this wasn’t political horse trading today then I don’t know what was.  Here’s a victory for equality all of you gay rights advocate.  But what about us said the gay marriage opponents.  And voila…. The Supreme Court waved its magic wand and with its usual political sleight of hand….. It talked out of the other side of its mouth by giving each state, if it so chooses, the option of not recognizing same sex couples.  Hocus Pocus indeed.

The Belushi problem.....

You know what I hate?  I hate guys like Jim Belushi.  I hate guys who throw this city’s name around in vain just to get some camera time.  Jimmy boy, you’re time is up.   Anyone with half a brain sees you for what you are.  What you AREN’T…. is a member of this city.  You don’t represent it and you’re not a part of it.  Matter of fact, you represent every negative stereotype that this great city has been trying to shake off for god knows how long.  Last night there Jimmy B, you made a complete ass of yourself with your false allegiance to a team that you only care about when it serves YOUR interests.   Do you have any pride Mister Belushi?  Any at all?  If you want camera time or you want to prolong whatever career you have left, then be subtle about it for god sake.  But subtlety is not Jim Belushi’s style I guess.  Not after he bulldozed his way into having a moment with the Stanley Cup.  Last time I checked, this no talent hack didn’t skate with the Hawks during the lockout shortened season.  Last time I checked, this no talent, coat tail riding Neanderthal wasn’t even a MEMBER of the team.  He’s not even a member of the city for goodness sake.  Belushi lives and works in LA and he should stay there.  But I guess the opportunity to mooch free tickets for the Stanley Cup finals was too strong of an urge for him to resist.  Not only did Belushi once again milk his so called Chicago roots for all they were worth, he sacrificed whatever class he had left by interrupting a moment with Blackhawks center Michal Handzus and his child.  Why?  Because everyone’s favorite unwelcome house guest/civic pariah couldn’t resist hijacking the moment from a group of world class athletes.  Athletes who played with broken bones and god knows what else to hoist the very trophy that Belushi had no business putting his hands on in the first place.  How much of a civic embarrassment does this guy have to become before somebody finally says “enough.”  Rocky Wirtz, you’ve resurrected an organization that was burning like Gotham City at the end of “The Dark Knight.”  Rocky Wirtz, you’ve made so many shrewd and business savvy moves to bring the pride back to the Blackhawk organization.  I’m asking you Mister Wirtz, take a stand here.  Tell these self serving leeches like Jim Belushi to go away.  Take a stand Mister Wirtz.  In the name of the city and the organization you and I love, tell Jim Belushi to go away forever.

Chicago hope....

  Why do I feel like I'm in a dream?  The Hawks have won their second cup in four years and there's a numb sense of euphoria flowing within me.  I am in awe, I'm in shock.  The Chicago Blackhawks, once the laughingstock of the NHL, have won their second Stanley Cup in four years.  I'll say it again.  The Chicago Blackhawks have won their second Stanley Cup Championship in four years.  How I do feel? How do I react?  Growing up in Chicago, these sports occurrences simply never happen.  I can remember watching other teams hoisting the holy grail of the NHL and wondering what it would feel like to watch my team and my city hoist the symbol of NHL excellence.  And now it's here for a second time and I find myself swept up in a sea of emotions.  Among them, pride.  Today, I am incredibly proud to be a member of the Chicago sports fandom.  In a dizzying blur of skill and grit and whatever else you call it, the Hawks imposed their will on the Bruins and stole a game that they had no business winning.  Wasn't it fitting to see the Captain, Jonathan Toews, setting up the tying goal with something as simple as a stick lift.  To watch a team reach down and refuse to lose was absolutely romantic in only the way the NHL playoff hockey can be.  And then you hear a member of the Hawks brain trust, John McDonough, talking about "getting better" when he was interviewed by CSN Chicago during the post game.  You should be proud of what you're seeing Chicago.  This isn't the usual lighting in a bottle/pocket full of luck story that usually accompanies a Chicago sports organization.  This isn't the usual the case of a local team stumbling into a magical place in the sports pantheon for one glorious summer or winter.  This isn't a story where the team wins a championship in our city, only to spend the rest of its existence trying to figure out they did it.  This is a REAL organization with a REAL focus on winning.  As McDonough said in his post game remarks "we have young reinforcements coming soon."  Be still my heart, the Hawks get it.  This an organization that understands that you can't buy your way to happiness in the NHL.  For years I envied the Detroit hockey model and now I'm looking it in my own city.  It's a pipeline of guys like Bickell and Saad and Shaw.  Yes, change is coming and not everyone can get paid for their efforts.  Me thinks that we're about to say goodbye to guys like Bolland and Bickell.  But if tonight was any indication; if the last four years have been any indication; the future is bright. If McDonough was right and who can doubt him and his team after what they've done, you will be seeing a pipeline of young talent shuffling in and out of this organization for years to come.  So for all of you who are doubting the Epstoyer plan at Clark and Addison, think about what you've witnessed in Boston.  Heck, think about what you've witnessed the past four years in Hawkland.  The McDonough plan is the same as the Epstoyer plan in theory.  If you draft them and develop them, it will come.  I know, right now you're looking at the house that Theo built in its infancy and you're looking at a shack with no roof and there's paint everywhere and nails and tools and wheelbarrows and Carlos Marmol is trying to read a blueprint.  Think about the McDonough plan and then translate it to Clark and Addison.  Think about how beautiful that Epstoyer renovation project is going to be when it all comes together and there's a bunch of talented young MLB prospects greeting you during the Wrigley open house.  As Ellis Hobbs said in The Shawshank Redemption..... "I hope."   The future is bright Chicago, you can dream now and you can hope.

To the Hawks... and what is and what was....

   I love the Blackhawks and I know I always will.  The Blackhawks have been a part of my existence since my old man took me to the old Chicago Stadium at the end of its run so I could see what the NHL game was all about.  It was a love affair that began with three hundred level seat in the old barn and then nervous nights in front of the radio listening to Pat Foley call Blackhawks playoff and regular season hockey.  Chicago Stadium came and went and then, as I became a more mature hockey fan, it was the United Center that I called home.  The seasons changed and the team got progressively worse as the nineties wore  on and I, as a fan, couldn’t watch the reality of what the team I loved had become; an inept and out of touch mess both on the ice and off of it.  Those were the days, being treated to past their prime vets like Matthew Barnaby and imports from across the globe that were both lazy and entitled or simply couldn’t skate.  And then Dollar Bill Wirtz died and young Rocky took over and before our eyes was the thing that old time Blackhawks fans had only dreamed of seeing; the cup of Lord Stanley.  It was ours in 2010 and the demons had been exercised.  So many years of reaching the summit, only to fall off the cliff time and again.  So many Blackhawk playoff teams struggling to stay in the playoff fight but gallantly losing to teams with better talent and or firepower.  Never did I have so much fun then in 1994, when that Hawks team, which didn’t know they weren’t good enough, took the eventually champions, the Colorado Avalanche, to the limit.  And now it’s 2013 and I’m 35 and the Blackhawks, the team I grew up with, are on the cusp of their second title this decade.  I’ll say it again; the Blackhawks have a chance to win their second title this decade.  Did you ever think that this was possible when Edmonton pummeled them into submission in the playoffs way back when?  Or when Lemieux and the Penguins skated around the Stadium ice with Lord Stanley’s Cup in 92?  It seemed like a sight we’d never get to enjoy, the sight of a Hawks player in the modern era hoisting that precious grail.  But now championships are a distinct reality on Madison Street and I can feel things changing.  Prices are obscene over there on Madison Street and I’ve been priced out of tickets.  Next year will be the affirmation of this new hockey identity I don’t recognize when Rocky Wirtz boosts ticket prices even further to try and get his squad into the black.  I get it; no team can function without profit.  But admit it, Hawks nation; it’s not the same.  The barn is adorned with corporate signage and sponsorship tie ins and the cast is now primarily a bunch of alcohol spewing singletons on their cell phones who chant for offense when the Hawks are protecting a lead.  I love the Hawks and I always will, but I can’t pretend that things haven’t changed.  I can’t pretend that I still recognize the team I grew up with.  The age of Hawks hockey that I grew up with is gone.  The purity of a bunch of die hards enjoying a niche game with every ounce of their fandom is gone.  The days of 20,000 true and knowledgeable hockey fans in the joint every night is now a myth.  Oh, there are a few of us die hards in the house.  Except, we’ll be watching at home or from afar.  And if the Cup is raised tonight in Boston and we’ll cheer.  And then, like poets, we’ll drink to what was.  We’ll drink to our era, long since passed.  Go Hawks!!!

The Enigma known as LeBron

  I’ll admit, I sound like an NBA meatball when it comes to LeBron James and that whole sideshow of opulence and self aggrandizing that’s going on with him and the Miami Heat right now.  I don’t know why it gets under my skin when LeBron James is compared to Michael Jordan but it does.  I know, it shouldn’t.  Begrudgingly, as I’ve begun to watch the NBA game with a more objective eye, I can see that James is a better player than Jordan is.  James can take anyone at any time and he can take them inside or outside.  And if you need proof that LeBron is a better athlete than Jordan, you can go to NBA TV and watch game six of the recently concluded NBA Finals between the Heat and the Spurs.  LeBron not only defended three of the five positions on the floor, he RAN the floor in transition AFTER defending the hell out of Tony Parker.  Never in the modern NBA has there been a more versatile athlete with that rare gift of athleticism and power and pure skill.  But then, even after all this is factored into the equation, the so called “King” makes me scratch my head.  James, in my view, is a man who either doesn’t know how great he is or simply is incapable of realizing it.  It took 38 minutes for the so called greatest player on the planet to wake up and realize that there was no tomorrow for his either his team or his legacy for that matter.  Can you really put a fellow, however gifted as LeBron is, into the elite level of the NBA when he has to be TOLD to take a game over; when he has to be TOLD that he can dominate anyone once he shows the will to actually do it.  Michael Jordan never needed an alarm clock.  For Michael Jordan, every game was game seven.  You can compare the physical tools between Jordan and James and James would win hands down.  But then you get to the intangibles and that’s where Jordan is far superior.  What am I talking about?  I’m talking about heart and I’m talking about will.  The great ones don’t quit on their team in times of adversity.  Remember LeBron’s last playoff series as a member of the Cavaliers?  The great ones don’t need to be TOLD when to take over and the great ones don’t need to be TOLD how great they truly are.  Yah, LeBron won two championships in Miami but guess what?  He had to outsource a crew of mercs to help him get it done.  So what do we have here in this freak of athleticism known as LeBron James.  We have a man who can dominate an NBA game like no other, whose talent and skill can leave mere mortals in a dizzying blur when he’s so inclined.  And we also have just another self involved, oblivious millionaire who betrayed the loyalties of a city that bent over backwards for him.   What we have in LeBron James is a dazzling freak of nature that, like the tin man, lacks heart.   If the kid had any heart or any will, he would’ve stayed in Cleveland and finished what he started.  But alas, the King built a palace somewhere else.  And for that, he will be, now and forever, THE most talented, the most polarizing, and THE most frustrating enigma in NBA history.

News gone corporate......

  So there’s a flap in Chicago about reporters and or journalists blurring the lines between being fans and being actually, well, journalists and or, well, reporters of the news.  Apparently,  Rafer Wiegel made Walter Cronkite turn over in his grave by wearing a Blackhawks themed tie when he was working the weekend sports desk for ABC 7 Chicago.  Then, while covering the Hawks game three loss to Boston, NBC 5 reporter Natalie Martinez delivered her live stand up all decked out in a home red Jonathan Toews jersey.  I don’t know what exactly irks me on these two occasions of reporting ethics gone astray?  Is it the blurring of journalistic ethics, long unspoken and sacred in most circles?   Maybe it’s the fact that both of these local news stations catered to the idiot factor that makes me want to disassociate myself from most of the fandom’s in this town.  Dan Bernstein is right.  Why do we need to continue to craft a sports image of a Neanderthal like sports fandom whooping and hollering in a sports bar after a big win or a crushing loss?  Is this how the voices that inform us in our great hometown see us as fans?   If that’s the case, I object to that brush I’m being slapped with on the grounds that I’m not a sports meatball.  I’m one of the rare breed who actually goes to Wrigley to see the game and not the buxom wenches all decked out in Cub gear.   I don’t view a baseball game or a hockey game or whatever sporting event you can name as a place to get drunk and perpetuate the myth of Chicago sports fan dom as a bunch of alcohol swilling, ill informed grabowski’s.  Look, Natalie Martinez knows better but I doubt that wearing that Hawks jersey was her call.  Remember who owns NBC 5 ladies and gentlemen.  That would be Comcast.  And Comcast swallowed up NBC Universal and NBC Universal is the parent company of…. Ding ding ding…. NBC 5 Chicago.  Comcast is also partners with the Chicago Blackhawks in that venture called Comcast Sports Net Chicago and CSN Chicago just happens to televise…. Come on, this is easy….. DING!  Blackhawks Hockey.  There’s so much conflict of interest here that it makes your head spin but conflict of interest is all too common in a world where entities like Comcast buy up networks and news divisions.  But why didn’t didn’t the producer on NBC 5 step in and tell Natalie Martinez to lose the jersey?  Here’s how I THINK it went down.  If the producer did step in and object to the obvious display of fandom by Miss Martinez then I’m guessing that someone high above at the mother ship stepped in and reminded everyone that it was good business to have the jersey of one their business partners on display on this particular news cast.  Again, Comcast owns NBC Universal and that means that they essentially own NBC.  NBC is home to NBC Sports and NBC Sports is… wait for it…. a partner with the Blackhawks on the NHL telecasts that Comcast pays millions of dollars for in terms of overall rights fees.  Look on the bright side, at least Natalie Martinez wasn’t standing in front of a sign for NBC Sports Net, another entity of the new Comcast Empire that Comcast desperately wants to attract eyeballs to.  What I’m saying is this?  These two incidents aren’t simply lapses of journalistic ethics.  These two incidents are symbolic of a changing news culture.   These two incidents are symbolic of the all sustaining corporate structure being unchecked for so long.  Corporations run on a profit, that’s a fact of life.  Journalism doesn’t pay the bills when you’ve spent almost a billion dollars to acquire a film studio and a host of other entertainment and or media properties.  Get used to it folks, it’s the way of the world.  Matter of fact; don’t be surprised if you see Allison Rosati doing a fluff piece on the star of “Royal Pains” in the near future.  Royal Pains airs on USA and USA is owned by….. drum roll….. Comcast.  This is the future of of news ladies and gentlemen.   Comcast/NBC Universal….. Product placement and characters welcome.  And um… Go Hawks!!!  Who hoo!!!

I am a child of technology....

  So I’m watching the news today and there’s some MD or PHD who looks he came out of a cave.  We’re talking the total Geico Man doppelganger here.  So anyway, the Geico looking guy with the PHD or the MD or the BA in BS or what have you is ranting about the evils of technology and how it’s almost a forbidden fruit kind of deal.  With every bite from this nectar of so called efficiency and or convenience, we lose our ability to function because, essentially, technology is doing our thinking for us.  Now, in some cases, I’ve seen technology paralyze some people.  I was at work when our computer servers went down and we had to function old school style.  In other words, we had to document everything by hand and file everything by hand until the computer servers were restored.  That’s right.  No PC’S, No printers, no internet.  Just me and my co workers and our will to get things done by any means necessary.  For me, it was a question of shaking off the rust of having everything at my fingertips.  For me it was a matter of getting used to doing things manually for an extended period of time.  Now I’m not saying that all mammals can adapt this easily.  I have to be honest, to see my co workers have to go it old school in terms of their shift was akin to watching a bunch of people going through withdrawal.  I’m actually surprised that no blood was shed during the server outage at my place of employment.  There was indeed an aire of one of those films were good people are trapped in an untenable situation and then in act two, tensions rise and all hell breaks loose.  More to the point, it was like something out of a Stephen King novel.  But let’s not be wet blankets here.  Technology DOES have its uses.  Having the ability to pay my bills on line without having to schlep to a nearby currency exchange for money orders and stamps is a god send.   As a writer I enjoy the benefits of being able to Google search various literary agents in search of my big break.  I enjoy the benefits of email and being able to search for jobs if need be, with one click.  Now I know what you’re saying.  But doesn’t all this easy access have pitfalls?  Aren’t we creating a world of people, who, thanks to Facebook and the like, won’t be able to effectively communicate?  I love that image that people cast.  A bunch of Facebookites emerging, as if from an apocalypse, into the harsh realities of the earth’s surface and the physical world at large.  Do I think Facebook is an evil monster out to corrupt everyone’s ability to communicate and function in everyday reality?  I don’t think so but who knows what that evil demigod of social media, Mark Zuckerberg, has in store for us ordinary folk who reside in the land of the Facebook.  All I know is, I like my Facebook and I like my online bill pay but I’m perfectly at ease if time reversed itself and I lived in a techno free world.  Yes, I am a child of technology and I’m not allergic to sunlight and I know the difference between online friends and real by good people who want to share the same things you do.  Hell, I even prefer physical books to download ones.  Hell, I even have DVD’S and CD’S at home.  I am a child of technology and I am fully functional.  OK, so I kind of hate the world at large and I tend to gravitate towards unavailable women but that’s technologies fault.  I am a child of technology but I know when to say when.

Hollywood Greed....

  Normally, I don't go too upset when Hollywood talks about rebooting a particular film or a film franchise.  Except, I read today that Hollywood is hell bent on remaking or rebooting 1994's "The Crow."  For those of you unfamiliar with that film and that tragedy that surrounded it, here's a bit of context from Wikipedia regarding the accident that claimed the life of the film's star Brandon Lee.

  On March 31, 1993, at EUE Screen Gems Studios in Wilmington, North Carolina, Brandon Lee sustained an accidental gunshot wound on the set of the film. He was taken to an area hospital, where he later died. There were eight days left before shooting of the film was to be completed. The scenes involving Lee and Sofia Shinas' characters in their apartment had been saved for the end of filming so that Lee could work the final week without makeup.^[3] In the story, Lee's character Eric Draven comes home to find a gang of thugs raping his girlfriend, and he is shot and killed by Michael Massee's character Funboy.

Weeks prior to the event, a scene had been filmed that required shells to be shown being loaded into the handgun. Rather than using dummy rounds, inexperienced crew members, pressured by time constraints, purchased live ammunition, removed the bullets, dumped the gunpowder, and then replaced the bullets back into the empty cartridges with the live primers still in place.^[3][4] Unbeknownst to the crew, the bullet from one of the rounds became lodged in the barrel of the gun. It is believed that someone on set was playing with the gun, pulled the trigger and inadvertently caused the live primer to fire; this would have resulted in the bullet moving a couple of inches into the barrel of the gun.

When the time came to film the scene where Funboy shoots Eric, the same gun was loaded with blank cartridges. As the production company had sent the firearms specialist home early, responsibility for the guns was given to a prop assistant who was not aware of the rule for checking all firearms before and after any handling. Therefore, the barrel was not checked for obstructions when it came time to load it with the blank rounds.^[3][4] When the gun was fired, the propellant in the blank round – which is used to give the visible effect of a gunshot – dislodged the bullet and propelled it through Lee's abdomen and into his spine, where it lodged. The injury caused massive blood loss.

Soon after the accident, Lee was taken to the New Hanover Regional Medical Center in Wilmington, where he died about 12 hours later, at 1:04 p.m. After Lee's death, the producers were faced with the decision of whether or not to continue with the film. Sofia Shinas, who had witnessed the accident, did not want to continue and went home to Los Angeles. The rest of the cast and crew, except for Ernie Hudson, whose brother-in-law had just died, stayed in Wilmington. Paramount, who were initially interested in distributing The Crow theatrically (originally a direct-to-video feature), opted out of involvement due to delays in filming and some controversy over the violent content being inappropriate given Lee's death. However, Miramax picked it up with the intention of releasing it in theatres and injected a further $8 million to complete the production, taking its budget to approximately $23 million.^[2] The cast and crew then took a break for script rewrites of the flashback scenes that had yet to be completed.^[3]

  Now let me say this.  I am a HUGE fan of the 1994 film.  I thought Brandon Lee's turn as the murdered rock star Eric Draven was star making.  To watch that film is to be in awe of Lee's performance.  To watch that film is to lament on what might have been or better yet, what SHOULD HAVE been.  One of the producers on the reboot is Edward R Pressman.  Edward R Pressman was also involved in the production of the original film and for clarity's sake, was named in a lawsuit for criminal negligence after Lee was killed on set on that fateful day in 1993.  Now Pressman is running around telling anyone who will listen that he wants to re imagine a film that, quite frankly, doesn't NEED to be re imagined.  It's one thing to covert dollars in Hollywood, I get that.  Hollywood is Hollywood and film concepts are there to be used and abused and recycled until a given audience yells stop.  But this is a different circumstance entirely.  Pressman was one of the people who failed Brandon Lee on that fateful day in 1993.  It wasn't a curse and it wasn't happenstance, it was simply a case of cutting corners and it turned deadly. To go back and wipe Brandon Lee's last film from existence is not only callous, it's a slap in the face to the work he brought to the production itself.  I remember an article in EW that was titled "How The Crow Flew Without Brandon Lee."  The piece chronicles an under the weather Brandon Lee doing fight scenes in the rain, trying to not complain when even he himself felt unsafe as the producers dangerously cut corners at every turn,  But I guess this is how you get rewarded in Hollywood.  You give your all to capture your big break and you give your all to a production and then one act of un necessary negligence makes you a tragic foot note in film history.  And then after the smoke clears and memories dim, a man like Edward Pressman comes along and conveniently covets his own sense of callous greed by saying that he wants to honor the memory of an actor he only viewed as a dollar sign on a balance sheet.  How does Edward R Pressman honor Brandon Lee?  He goes to court and fights for the right to profit even further off of a senseless tragedy that he could've avoided in the first place.  Doing the right thing Mister Pressman, don't go through with this reboot.  Find another avenue in which to make a profit, there are plenty of film franchises to reboot.  Let "The Crow" stand on its own.  Let Brandon Lee's legacy, the legacy you took away, be this one film that he worked so hard on; the labor of love he never got the chance to enjoy in terms of the stardom that was surely coming his way  Let your conscience be your guide Mister Pressman, let your conscience be your guide.

The Friday Rant

   It’s been a long week so with your permission, I’m going to rant.  I want to know why NBC, once the home of powerhouse shows like Seinfeld, can’t develop anything but reality programming lately.  And I want to know why anyone would actually think that a book based on a shrink who eats human flesh would be adaptable to a commercial television format.   And speaking of commercial television, I want to know why in the world a station like WGN would actually run a flick like “Scarface.”  Think about this.  “Scarface” is rumored to have contained 256 uses of the word “fuck” in the final draft.  Now see if this concept screams of commercial television, OK?  Here you have a premise that revolves around a coke taking, foul mouthed Cuban drug trafficker who snorts and shoots his way to the top of the Miami drug trade before dying in a gun battle with most if not all of the Columbian drug army.  I ask you ladies and gentlemen, does this sound like a move that belongs on commercial television?  And I know what you’re thinking.  Well, most people can’t afford Comcast or whatever else is offering cable these days?  But there’s Netflix for god sake.  Eight bucks a month and you get the DVD version of Scarface and you don’t have to hear Tony Montana say “forget” the Diaz brothers as he rages at Frank Lopez before their bitter break up.  As a film lover, I need to hear Tony Montana say “fuck” at least 60 times.  I need the impact of a Joe Pesci dropping an “F” bomb at will when he’s whacking some guy in Goodfellas.  To me, it’s not a mob flick unless someone is saying “Fuck” or “Motherfucker.”  I can hear the re editing now when Goodfellas lands on commercial television.  “What are you doing here; I thought I told you to go “see” your mother.”  But on to other things.  I want to know why people who aren’t British continue to wear shirts with the Union Jack on them.  If you WANT to apply for British Citizenship at some point or you’re in the process of trying to BECOME a British citizen, then by all means, wear the Union Jack on your shirt.  If not, please, stop this madness already.  And no more people wearing Che Guevara shirts until they know who the hell he was.  It’s as blasphemous as some sixteen year old skate boarding idiot walking around wearing a Malcolm X t shirt.  Let me ask you mister or misses sixteen year old.  When were you a part of Brother Malcolm’s struggle for racial equality and when exactly did you join the cause with old Che?  Oh that’s right, you’re sixteen and Caucasian and you never met Malcolm X or Che and you’ve never been to Mecca or Cuba.  Do me a favor.  Take the (bleepin) shirt off, you’re embarrassing yourselves.  Hey, you don’t see me running around with dreadlocks wearing a Bob Marley shirt.  And I respect Bob Marley but hey, I’m not going to put on a shirt and pretend that I understand the struggles of a Jamaican man struggling for equality in a third world country.  Alright, I’m done.  Enjoy your day everyone.  I’m going to go and hunt down some really cool D Day gear.  I know, I never saw action during D Day but I saw the flick “Pearl Harbor” with Ben Affleck awhile back and I think I can relate. 

Resist Tyranny!!!

Toot!!! Toot!!!

Pure Poetry...... NHL Playoff style....

It was the fifth longest game in Stanley Cup Finals History.  It was a marathon of skill and attrition that ended exactly one minute past midnight when Andrew Shaw scratched and clawed his way to the front of the net and scored one of those so called “dirty” goals.  Amidst the flailing of sticks and bodies, the biscuit squirted past Tukka Rask and for one night, Blackhawk Nation could exhale.  You had to know though that the hockey gods wanted the Hawks to win this game.  It was there for taking, the proverbial hanging fruit that Andrew Shaw finally plucked out of mid air to the delight of twenty two thousand strong on West Madison Street.  It was a night where a puck laid dangerously in the crease just waiting for David Bolland to come and swipe it out of harms way.  It was a night where, for one brief moment, bad Corey Crawford showed up and the young goalie laid near his net in a twisted heap as a perfectly elevated shot from in close threatened to sail past him.  Alas, EVERY supporter in Blackhawk nation was never more relieved to hear the sound of a rubber biscuit hitting iron and spinning back into play.  If you’re new to the NHL, let me school you.  This  game, tonight, was the reason that hockey remains the most underappreciated  game going today.  What more could you ask for tonight?  You had the drama of two evenly matched teams slugging it out.  Neither  the Bruins nor the Hawks gave an inch.  Tonight was the pure beauty of the NHL on display.  Or should I say, the beauty and the rather cruel nature of playoff hockey.  In one instance, everything changes.  Forget Miami and San Antonio in the NBA finals, give me two skilled NHL teams going up and down the ice in search of Lord Stanley’s grail.  For this Blackhawk fan, I remain in awe of a franchise that spent many many decades simply trying to get out of its own way.  I remain in awe of a team that once again failed to answer the opening bell, yet managed to fight their way back to 3 all against of the NHL’S most stingiest defenses.  Now the hard part, three more battles to be won.  Buckle up Blackhawks fan, this is going to be a fun ride all the way to the finish.

Youthful Blindness

   What is it that makes certain people so eager to pick fights that they can not win?  What am I talking about?  I was inspired to my write latest entry after watching the HBO Documentary called "Pussy Riot."  "Pussy Riot" was a feminist punk group with a disdain for Vladimir Putin and organized religion in Russia.  In February of 2012, several members of the group were jailed for railing against Putin in an Orthodox Church of Worship.  This group was subsequently hauled off to jail and faced the possibility of three to five years in prison for crimes against the government and for.  Watching this particular documentary, I'm not surprised that "Pussy Riot's" pleas for fairness and due process were virtually ignored.  Nor was I surprised when the presiding judge kept them jailed and labeled them "threats."  Maybe it's a cautionary tale about a group of people trying to change the world without realizing the consequences of rebelling in a corner of the world where human rights and due process and outright freedom are subject to daily interpretation based on the whims of the person holding power at that moment.  There is a moment in the film where one of the accused members of "Pussy Riot" feigns ignorance as to why she's being charged.  After a testy exchange with prosecutors, one of the jailed members of "Pussy Riot" asks, rather tacitly, what basis the government has for charging her and her Co horts.  In this moment, I honestly didn't know whether to admire her gumption or simply plead with her to stop poking the hornets nest.  Does it surprise me that Putin would have a bunch of his critics hauled off to jail?  No, it doesn't.  Putin, was allegedly  behind the poisoning of a rival a few years back.  Within hours Putin's rival was dying a painful death from radiation poisoning in a Moscow hospital and once again..... the west was left to gape at the blatant atrocity committed by a demi gog protecting his fiefdom.  I admire the passion and the gumption of the jailed members of "Pussy Riot" to rail against the demi gog who rules over them but then again, maybe this is a lesson about the bliss of youth and how it creates a rather blinding sense of idealism.  To these young women I say this.  Pick your battles wisely; you can't change the world in a place where the voice of dissention is silenced by any means necessary.

Where has the real news gone?

  I have a question.  Why does Headline News still have the word "news" in its description?  I counted, at least three times, this so called news channel trumpeting its coverage of the daytime Emmy awards.  Since when are the daytime Emmy's a news story?  But wait, there's more.  Today, the very full figured Robin Meade actually stopped the news cycle to promote the country CD she's working on.  And then after Miss Meade got through telling us that any schlub with a six figure salary can record a CD with an A list producer, her colleagues continued to obliterate any semblance of journalistic integrity HLN has or had left by reading positive reviews of Meade's CD.  Doesn't anyone report the news anymore?  I mean, actual news.  No detective shows, no self serving Nancy Grace exposes and no Doctor Drew delving further into quackery.

  Look, FNC may be the evil empire but at least they stick to the idea of actually keeping you informed about the world at large.  Is this what it's come to?  Did I actually call FNC the beacon of journalistic hope in a world of mass market fluff masquerading as actual news?  I hear some of you rising to defend CNN but the folks at CNN wouldn't know journalism if you drew them a map.  Besides, CNN, under the very same field general who made the Today Show into an empty fluff ball, is now home to Anthony Bourdain.  Yes folks, when news breaks, Anthony Bourdain is on your television stuffing his mug and globe trotting around the world on CNN'S dime.   I guess what I'm wondering is, why do we need channels like HLN?  Better yet, why did we need the E channel?  I guess this is our reality, the fact that a corporation would take over a channel and then spend millions and millions of dollars to build broadcasting facilities for a bunch of talking heads from central casting who are paid to tell you what Jennifer Anniston had for breakfast.  This is our reality, the fact that a corporation is paying millions upon millions of dollars to give Robin Meade studio space to plug her side trip into country music.  I fear what will happen when the print media goes away forever and the avenues to acquire hard news shrink even further.  Well, at least I'll have someone on the E channel there to tell me who's sleeping with who or who is going to rehab.  What a world.  Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to decide between Lethal Weapon 4 on IFC or Keeping Up With The Kardashians on E.  On second thought, I'll just read a book.

Confessions of a cynical Blackhawk fan

  I honestly don’t know what to make of these 2013 Hawks.  I thought that the physicality of the Los Angeles Kings would start to turn the tide of this series after game three and what happens?  The Hawks beat the Kings at their own game in a 3-2 grind fest.  So after all of my worrying and fretting, the Hawks are up three games to one and are now five wins away from the holy NHL grail.  Two NHL Champions in four years.  Who would’ve thought it way back when?   A little while ago I was afraid that Detroit had adapted the Phoenix Coyotes blueprint and that my Stanley Cup bridge to football would crumble upon itself.  What do you know?  The Hawks seized the momentum and managed to find a way to keep the Wings from neutralizing their speed and their puck possession game.  Maybe I’m wondering why I’m not in a Stanley Cup mindset just yet.  This playoff run has felt like a slog.  Every time I think the Hawks have the answer they seem to leave me with more questions.  Every time I think there are more questions to answer, the Hawks emphatically come up with an answer almost at will.  At this point, maybe I should just do a Craig Ferguson and just rip up the cue cards and enjoy the ride.   No no, this is no time to relax.  Do you know how many teams have come back from a three games to one deficit to win a series in the NHL?  The Hawks just did it for crying out loud.  Maybe I should just accept the fact that my cynical nature has creeped into the very subconscious of my Blackhawk fandom.  Maybe I should accept the fact that I won’t be totally at ease riding the Blackhawk express on Stanley Cup road until the convoy pulls into Stanley Cup Junction with Lord Stanley’s ultimate grail.  I’ll exhale and then I’ll ponder whether Corey Crawford is worthy of an extension and what the potential loss of a Bryan Bickell will mean to the franchise long term.  This is me, the Woody Allen of Chicago Sports.  Go Hawks!!!

Hooray for the printed word

  Hooray for Stephen King.  It’s about time somebody spoke up for the written word.  And when I say the written word, I’m not talking about Nooks or downloadable books that you can customer order like a friggin pizza.  Stephen King, god bless him, has elected NOT to release his latest novel in any digital form.  That’s right.  If you want Stephen King’s latest work, you’ll have to go to a bookstore and pick it up off of the shelf and purchase it.  That’s music to my ears and I absolutely applaud your stance Mister King.  To me, there is nothing more sacred than a leaving breathing book.  I’m actually on record as saying that I will never download a book and I will never use a kindle.   When there are no more bricks and mortar bookstores in existence, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll begrudgingly adapt to the new technologies in terms of the books I purchase.  Still, as good as Stephen King’s stance is and as much hope as it gives me that maybe certain pleasures are still sacred, I fear that it’s all in vain.  The fickle winds of an uncertain economy have already had a rather jarring effect on the print media.  The days are coming when the current model that the Chicago Tribune uses will be a reality; IE, paying for the headlines you read via the internet.  Maybe I’m holding on to the past because the printed word in its original form is the last cherished entity of my childhood and my adolescence.  But I’m not unaware.  Like the movie houses I grew up with and the neighborhood of my youth, everything will eventually turn over and the guideposts of my existence will be paved over by the steamrollers of both time and progress.  I dread the day when I’ll be watching the news and some newscaster will be bemoaning the loss of the last physical bookstore.  But for now….. Here’s to books and here’s to newspaper.  Here’s to reading as we know it; an art form that seems to be staring down extinction in its present and most greatest form.

The Hard Truth About America's past time

  Here we go again.  It’s time for Bud Selig to take another victory lap.  According to a source, quite a few players are supposedly going to be suspended from MLB for  second offenses regarding their involvement with a known steroid distribution clinic.  Some of the names allegedly on the new list include Ryan Braun, Melkey Cabrera, Gio Gonzales and Alex Rodriguez.  You know my stance on steroids.  I never believed that the steroid era tainted the game of baseball because I’ve never believed that the game of baseball was entirely pure to begin with.  Think of the rigors of a 162 game season ladies and gentlemen.  Do you honestly think that MLB athletes, however physically gifted they are, are immune to the rigors of a schedule that is the equivalent of a meat grinder?   For those of you who are crying about the innocence and the purity of baseball being tainted, you need to ask yourself one simple question.  Are you blind or are you just naïve?  How do you think that the guys on your favorite team get through road trips where they board a plane in the wee hours of the morning and then play, say, an early doubleheader or a business man’s special?  It’s the nature of baseball and all of this grandstanding with the so called discipline and the testing process is just Bud Selig’s little dog and pony show designed to make sure that Congress doesn’t come in and smack him around again.  The same people who felt duped about that magical season when Sosa and McGuire chased the home run record are now duping themselves into thinking that Bud Selig has actually cleaned up the game of baseball forever.  Well, he hasn’t.  There’s an 18 year old prospect using Adderall for goodness sake.  If Selig wanted to clean up the game and make himself seem like something more than a paper tiger, he’d suspend the cheaters AND strip them of their salaries.  Why do you think that guys like Ryan Braun cheat?  I’ll tell you why.  Because after guys like Braun and Sosa are tarred and feathered by those living in a fantasy world of idealism and role models, one fact remains.  Braun and the others, if they ARE suspended, are essentially going on a paid vacation.  It’s the same as it ever was, stop deluding yourselves.  I love baseball too and I’m not crazy about MLB athletes cheating but there has to be some semblance of prospective here.  Stop with the mock outrage and the self righteousness.  Baseball is dirty and it always will be.  It’s been dirty since the Black Sox threw that World Series in 1919.  It was dirty when Ty Cobb was basically betting on baseball and I’d venture to say that it was dirty when Micky Mantle and those guys were around.  And if you think that’s sacrilege, then you tell me how a man comes to the park everyday with a hang over and has enough concentration left to clobber a white baseball into orbit.  You know the answer, you just need to admit the truth.

My name is Quixote.....

The more I'm in the ratrace and the more interviews I go on, the more I feel like the great Don Quixote charging at a windmill.  Today's experience was akin to Dallas in 63.  I was hopeful and optimistic and then the limo made the turn and suddenly I was jerked back and to the left.  It's rather painful, watching your very hope of bettering yourself turn to dust.  It was akin to being on the Titanic when it sunk to the bottom.  If only Kate Winslet was there to throwme to my death in the icy cold water below.  Today's experience was akin to the Cubs playoff run in 07 and 08.  I came in with the hope of changing my fortune and then before I knew it, I was sent home to ponder what might have been.  These are the ramblings of a man who station in life has been marked with a condemned sign.  I can hear my old man now, cackling from his spot in the very bowels of hell at the plight of his wayward offsprings penchant for failure on the grandest of levels.  I am Forrest Gump.  Except, I hate people and I'd probably throw the chocolates in someone's face.  Either that or I'd find a rare box of chocolates and I'd probably drop them into oncoming traffic ala Jack Tripper.  Yes ladies and germs, these are the words of a man who wishes that he could travel back in time and divert his mother to the nearest planned parenthood facility.  Now if you'll excuse me,  I'm going to eat pizza and send out some resumes into that abyss known as the internet.

Confessions of a ranting disillusioned liberal

It's been a long week so with you're permission, I'm going to rant.  I want to know why my fellow Americans continue to run afoul of the law in third world countries and then complain when they are denied basic legal due process.  Ladies and germs, you don't have to be guilty of ANYTHING in a third world country.  Or haven't my fellow international law breakers seen the Alan Parker classic "Mid night Express."  Please, guys and gals, don't wander into foreign territory you don't belong in and don't smuggle drugs or try to take down a dictatorship in a place where the constitution is written in pencil.  If it's not some dope hiking into a forbidden zone in China or the Middle East, then it's some dope trying to change the world in a place run by a zealot whose business card says "I run the country, now shut up or I'll kill you."  I wanna know what the hell is wrong with Amanda Bynes and I wanna know why everyone thinks that bankrupting every athlete who uses performance enhancing drugs is some kind of moral panacea.  Don't the feds have better things to do than to make sure Lance Armstrong pays for his sins by being forced to live in a box without any form of income.  I wanna know when I'll be able to turn on the news without some health advocate telling me that I can't eat what I want because eating what I want will set a bad example for a future generation of youngsters that I could give a rat's ass about.  I want to know who in their right mind would develop a business concept in which someone hands you a frozen hunk of pizza dough for you to take home and cook yourself.  Why oh why would anyone invest capital in a storefront to sell frozen pizza dough?  What's the point?  So what's next in the evolution of dining out?  Will McDomalds start serving frozen big macs and quarter pounders that I have to cook myself?  What's next?  I go to a cinema and I have to write and direct and cast and produce the film myself?   Resist Tyranny!!! Toot!!! Toot!!!