In search of an ever after.....

  So  it’s almost four and I’m sitting here at the desk and the worlds asleep while I’m awake doing some job that makes me feel like an even bigger failure than normal.  The self pity is funny ha ha, don’t be alarmed ladies and gentlemen.  And in the midst of a day where I’ve slept very little and I’ve been partially consumed by Sylvia Plath like darkness (insert oven jokes here) I’m thinking about the state of my life and the women who have passed through it at various turns and I’m feeling all Alanis Morissette like (turns on “Unsent” on You Tube.)

  To Meg…….The little brunette fire cracker with the deposition of Begby In “Trainspotting.”  I say that with love because you actually kicked a guy in the nuts for whistling at you.  I was there, don’t deny it.  Where the hell did we go wrong?  Where the hell did it all fall off the tracks for us?  It’s hard to feel a glimmer of spark for someone who’s betrayed you but maybe my stubbornness will dissipate someday and we can have our ever after or something close to it.  But alas, I still can’t trust you after you took my heart and launched it like Ron Burgundy’s dog in Anchorman.  I know Meg…. Megan if you will…. I make too many film references.  It’s why you ended up with me in the first place.  My door is open if you want to try again….. maybe…..

  To L….. Well… the sex was worth it.  And I guess we loved each other in our own way.  To many ghosts and to many insecurities on my end.  You were right though, I’m a slug living below  my potential.  I don’t if I’ll ever be alright but I’m getting there.  And I promise to never call you Lourdes in anger.  That was cruel I know.  But look on the bright side, I set you free to date someone in a higher tax bracket and that’s where you belong.  So… try not to drive the new man in your life as crazy as you drove me.  And if he’s bad to you in anyway…. I’ll kill him.

  To Jules…..Thanks for being the bridge between the greatest love of my life and self medicating despair.  And thanks for not badgering about my lack of ambition or all of the time I’ve wasted the past decade or so.  Thanks for sharing silences and simply “shutting the fuck up” and thanks for understanding the mess that is me.  God damn it, why do you have to be a lesbian?  Ugh.  I know, shut up Danny.  May you find your princess and may she give you your happily ever after.  Just, please…. Do me a favor?  Make sure the house is void of furniture before you cheat on her.  (Throws hands up in self defense) I’m just saying….  And oh yeah, I’ll never tell anyone that your full name is Juliette.  Mums the word.

  To Catherine….. I’m living….. I mean, that’s what you asked.  So I’m living… kind of.  Somedays are filled with self doubt and delusions of what I probably won’t become but it’s a process.  I promise…. no more sad Sarah McLachlan tunes and no more putting you on a pedestal.  I know I know, you’re afraid of heights.  I promise not to over idealize you and to write about you objectively when I go back to our past for source material.  And I promise to try and love my fellow humans, even though I don’t understand 99.9 percent of them and I’d rather be left the hell alone but that’s beside the point.  Where ever you are, I hope that you’re skating and living life.  And I hope you take the compliments when people say you’re beautiful because you always were; inside and out.

  To Robin…… I have no words to express my gratitude.  Thanks for sticking with a hot mess like me for all of these years.   Keep tuning out the static and keep being who you are.  BTW…. You’re not as awful as you think you are and that has extra meaning because it’s coming from a man with a self esteem meter in the basement.  You speak my language and you get me and you’re perfect and God damn it, you’re so married.  Ugh, I hate my luck.

  To Lefki……. Keep kicking, keep reaching for the surface.  The world needs more people like you, believe me.  Here’s to you, my fellow traveler in grief and here’s to you my dearest friend.  When we both see God or whatever is up there, we’ll both tell he/she to stop dropping safes on our collective heads.  You have much to offer this life my friend, never forget that.  Thank you for making many dreary days in a shitty place a lot brighter.

                                                Yours,

                                                The ever elusive ever after

Same old Same Old.... Chicago Style...

  My goodness, I hate it when I'm right.  Before the city hall mantle was passed from Richie Daley to Rahm Emanuel, I proclaimed that Emanuel was "Daley with a more polished edge and a better grasp of the english language at large."  Anyone object?  Anyone?  Anyone?  In a time of great financial strife in our great city, Mayor Emanuel has decided to give DePaul University three hundred million dollars to build themselves an arena near McCormick Place.  Emmanuel's pitch is that this will be the lynch pin of a potentially bustling development designed to lead to the casino that will eventually become the financial panacea that will ultimately sprout money like something out of a Brothers Grimm fairy tale.  Is it me or have you heard this all before?  How many times did we hear Richie Daley step to the podium and spout off about the "next financial pancea."  This is Chicago, the place where the people in the trenches prosper and we tax payers eat the loss time after time.  If Emanuel is going to go all in on a horse, then betting on DePaul is like betting someone's life savings on a glue factory reject.  At the behest of a friend and a die hard Northwestern supporter, I wrote this column.  To him I say, I don't think that DePaul's new arena should keep you up at night.  Looking into my crystal ball, I see a future where people will come to the new Blue Demon arena or whatever they name it and then after a few years of bad basketball the novelty will wear off.  And just like always, our fair mayor (insert name here) will parachute away from the sinking albatross and we taxpayers will get stuck paying for a brand spanking new bastion of reckless capitalism that nobody will quite know what to do with.  Do you honestly think that a casino owner of ANY kind is going to subject himself to the gridlock of Chicago politics to build a Casino on the heels of a basketball program that bascially sacrificied its competitive dignity for a yearly pay day?  I say no.  But I've lived here long enough and I'm a cynical sort.  I'm just wondering who the corporate sponsor for Blue Demon land is going to be?  Will it be another local fat cat with deep pockets or perhaps another nameless corporation looking to showcase their particular brand of whatever it is to the world?  In closing I say this... "plenty of seats available."

Literature.... Interrupted.....

  So I’m hanging out with a friend of mine when the trailer for the latest adaptation of “The Great Gatsby” flashes before our eyes like a trashy fantasia like soap opera of love and excess and well to do folk dancing amongst the excesses of that great enigma known as Jay Gatsby.  My friend excitedly proclaims that we buy tickets to Baz  Luhrmann’s modern day visual spectacle while I bemoan the dumbing down of yet another classic piece of literature.  Am I wrong here, mister and misses America?  Isn’t Baz Luhrmann the director who made Romeo and Juliet into a tweeners delight with all of the elements of teen angst and forbidden love tossed into the mix?  That’s the point here folks.  I’m tired of literary classics being stripped down and pulverized so they go down easier for the apathetic souls who won’t take the time to experience the work of the great F Scott Fitzgerald or anyone else whose name isn’t Stephanie Meyer.  Even if you draw the non literary souls to the book version of Gatsby via this flashy Hollywood update, one thing remains.  They’re not going to like the book anyway because they’re going to expect the same processed version of Gatsby that Hollywood fed them in the first place.  Think about this, mister and Misses America.  How does anyone learn to appreciate someone like the great William Shakespeare if they’re being fed a stripped down version of his work.  How does anyone really get to enjoy the beauty of great literature if it’s stripped down to its most basic form?  You don’t.  That’s my point.  You don’t truly enjoy Shakespeare unless you learn to navigate the waters and discover the beauty of his particular language.  You don’t gain an appreciation for great literature by going to Hollywood for the cliff notes.  You read the book.  Or you download or you read it on Kindle or you make it like a pizza, whatever form you wish.  Just read people.  Read the Great Gatsby by F Scott Fitzgerald people.  Read a little Shakespeare.  After that, you have carte blanche to plop down ten bucks to watch Hollywood dumbification in living color on a wide screen.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish my reading before the next episode of “Nashville” comes on.  Resist Tyranny!!! Toot!! Toot!!!!

To My Fellow Cynics

  I'm a cynic, that's been documented.  But I'm not here today to be a cynic.  I'm here to talk down my fellow cynics regarding this story about Angelina Jolie telling the world that she had a double mastectomy to try and save her self from the very disease, breast cancer, that claimed her mother's life six years earlier.  Already my fellow cynics are crying that Angelina Jolie is seeking camera time, that this is simply a publicity stunt of some kind.  Now, Hollywood is Hollywood and suffice to say, Miss Jolie has never met a camera that she hasn't liked outside of her day job as an actress.  I'm not ruling out anything here.  If Miss Jolie had this procedure done in the name of camera time and headlines, then I'll personally fly to Hollywood and deliver the "publicity whore of the year" award to her.  Here's the thing though, I don't think that this is all about headlines.  I think this is about a woman who made a very difficult choice for the sake of her family and her overall quality of life.  Surprising I know, considering that I usually cringe when either Miss Jolie or her other half open their yaps these days.  Yes my fellow humans, I think that a celebrity proved, today, that they can actually be genuine and not always so self serving.  Still thinking "publicity stunt?"  Fine, then ask yourself this.  Why would an actress, in an industry built on looks, made such a radical medical decision in regards to one of the assets that has made her famous; IE, her body.  What I'm asking you is this.  If Angelina Jolie and her PR people masterfully devised this plan for headlines and camera time by announcing her double mastectomy, then what was their end game?  It's not like Angelina Jolie had nothing to lose her.  Again, LA LA land is all about here and gone.  Those whose faces and bodies can't sell tickets are usually dumped off into the land of career limbo someplace.  To all my fellow cynics, just sit back and relax and let's take the actions of one of our more famous humans at face value for once.  I could be wrong.  Hopefully I'm not.

Four years of exile... a lifetime of pain.

  Were you expecting the NCAA to actually take the knife of justice and slit the collective throat of a program as foul as Penn State?  If you answered no, then you're in the majority.  The NCAA would never sacrifice one of its business partners at the altar, even if it was necessary.  As proven, time and again, the NCAA is only interested in LOOKING official without really doing ANYTHING.  I know, the Penn State football program has essentially been set ablaze.  Sixty million in fines that are equivalent to, as reported, the total amount of revenue the football program generates for PSU football as a whole.  And then there's the lack of scholarships, which means that Penn State has been transformed into a tomato can for the next four years.  Still, in a perfect world, the NCAA would've sentence the football program in Creepy Valley to death and THEN issued the sanctions.  The point of the punishment was to make sure that Penn State pays for its sins of denial and untruth and lack of morality by NEVER becoming relevant as a football program again.  So what happens in four years when the sanctions are repealed?  I'll tell you what happens Penn State football gets out of jail and the collective amnesia begins.  Student Athletes wanting to go pro and looking for a landing spot until they can enter the draft won't remember any sins of the football programs past.  The sanctions will be repealed, parole will be granted and then the delusional masses in Happy Valley will get the gift of selective amnesia as they fill up Beaver Stadium 100,00 strong on selected Saturdays in the fall.  The Big Ten seems to be satisfied that it won't have to share its revenue pie with Penn State for four years.  That's all well and good but what happens after four years when PSU is eligible to sit at the table and help itself to a big old piece of Big Ten revenue pie.  A worse punishment for PSU football would've been branding the institution itself as a nomad.  The Big Ten should've cast them out, but of course, they didn't.  It's all about LOOKING efficient, not administering the proper form of justice.  In four years, Sandusky's victims won't have the benefit of selective amnesia.  No, his victims will have to live with what was done to them EVERY day of their lives.  Penn State has to weather four years of exile and then all is well.  Doesn't seem fair, doesn't it?  Give the NCAA credit, they acted on this issue at least.  Then again, they had to.

Confessions of a disillusioned liberal

  I will freely admit, I am a self hating liberal.  I admit, I cringe every time one of my fellow tribes men or women, especially the ones blessed with celebrity, fail to think before they open their mouths.  When John Kerry was attempting to overthrow the evil Stalinesque regime of George W Bush, the liberals, from George Clooney on down, ranted and raved about a much needed exit strategy in Iraq.  Problem is, Clooney and the rest of the Hollywood gang of nausea inducing partisans were a bit short on specifics regarding said strategy.  When the crickets weren't chirping the usual response was... Bush=Bad... War=Bad.... and this was usually followed by shrugs and blank stares and then indignation when someone outside the cone of ineptitude actually had the temerity to ask.... well what YOU do to get us of Iraq?  What is YOUR plan, Mister Clooney?  What is YOUR plan, Miss Crow?  But even after John Kerry waved the flag for gay rights in the bible belt.  Even after all of the political ineptitude of Al Gore and the Kafkaesque tenures of Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid and even after all of the red ink that my party, the Democrats, have unleashed on America  as a whole...... it took the self delusion of one Aaron Sorkin to make me wanna take my liberal membership badge and toss into the nearest wastebasket.  I will ask you, ladies and gentlemen, do you have access to cable?  Namely, HBO?  If you answered yes, then you've probably seen Sorkin's newest drama, The Newsroom.  Or maybe you haven't, considering that Sorkin, often using his political views as a blunt object, usually drives away a given audience in very short order.  I cite the early death of the vastly under rated Studio 60 as an example of this.  IE, Sorkin's three week diatribe on Iraq was the final nail in the ratings coffin for the aforementioned show.  But I digress.... I made it through three episodes of The Newsroom and I was OK with the thinly veiled partisan sniping that tends to permeate Sorkin's work.  I'm a liberal, Capraism is in our blood... we like spectacle.  Fine.  Still, I remained a viewer because of Sorkin's special chops as a writer.   And then it happened.... Episode three of said program ends with a monologue, delivered in character, by Jane Fonda (wait for it) that seems to suggest that the winds of political change and or upheaval often dictate both the content and the overall interests of a given media entity.  In the case of The Newsroom, this would be the fictional ACM network.  I wonder.  Is Sorkin misguided or is he simply delusional?  When you couldn't talk negatively about Dubya or the war in Iraq without being vilified, I seem to remember our friends at CNN producing special after special about this satanic little power monger from Texas who was going to lead the world towards certain oblivion.  I seem to remember CNN, during this time of red state dominance, sending in Anderson Cooper to interview injured vets to drive home the point that Dubya's war was a path to disillusionment and a life, for some young men and women, of unwarranted physical and mental anguish.  If this is the case, then what in God's name is Aaron Sorkin going on about?   If the winds of political change, as Sorkin suggests, dictate the content and or slant of a given media outlet, then how do you explain the folks at Fox News Channel?  A Democrat sits in the big chair on Pennsylvania avenue and yet, FNC continues to pound Barack Obama on everything from his foreign policy skills to his supposed ties to radical Islam.  I ask again.  What in the name of God is Aaron Sorkin going on about?  Then again, maybe I'm blind when it comes to the concept of creative fiction? And what's more creative than a news network, slanted towards liberals, being fronted by a corporate sugar daddy who happens to have the political sensibilities of a conservative?  It won't be long now.  The cliff is near.  Now here's the question?  Will Aaron Sorkin hit the brakes before he and the Newsroom sail off of the same cliff that Studio 60 did?  Or... will he do the liberal Hollywood thing and pretend that said cliff ceases to exist.  Stay tuned.

His name was Fredo....

  I'm not calling Tom Ricketts by his given name anymore.  No, he is now known, in my eyes, as Fredo Ricketts.  Why am I being so hard on the owner of the Cubs?  Well, I'll tell you.  Apparently, Tom Ricketts er.... Fredo Ricketts, forged an alliance with Rahm Emanuel and then forgot to tell Emmanuel that his father was trying to destroy Barack Obama.  The very same Barack Obama who happens to be the political ally of the man, Rahm Emmanuel, who Tom Ricketts, er... Fredo.... wants to borrow money from to renovate Wrigley Field.  In case you haven't heard, Tom's father wrote a political manifesto detailing how to defeat Obama that surfaced publicly a few days ago.  Now only was it a political manifesto, it was basically an attack on Obama's status as a black man and his qualifications as a leader of the free world because of the color of his skin.  What's galling is that Tom Ricketts father is so shallow minded as to resort to racing bating to try and disparage Obama as both a leader and as a man.  What's even more galling is that Rahm Emmanuel read the manifesto before Tom.. er... Fredo..... could get on top of the situation to do damage control.  Not only did the manifesto come out, Ricketts was also called on the carpet for his political spending.  Remember, Tom... er Fredo Ricketts has painted himself as a man hampered by an aging ballpark that has left poorer in terms of the capital needed to renovate Wrigley Field.  So Tom... er... Fredo Ricketts achieved two goals this week.  He showed Rahm Emmanuel that he's a  liar when he cried poverty and two..... he blindsided, via his ineptitude, the one man in Chicago politics that was willing to hand him a check to renovate Wrigley Field going forward.  My question is, how was Tom... er.... Fredo Ricketts not on top of his father's activities?  Again, Rahm Emanuel had to read the document, known as the Ricketts plan, for himself.  To me, it's symbolic of Tom... er Fredo Ricketts political ineptitude.  First it was the mishandling of the initial Wrigley renovation proposal.  Then it was the wasting of any politcal leverage he had when he said he had no intention of leaving Wrigley Field.  It makes you wonder why Bud Selig didn't think long and hard before handing a charter franchise to a man with seemingly limited financial resources and by in large, limited political skills.  Don't believe me?  Just ask Rahm Emanuel.

Cub Nation.... You're breaking my heart

  Let's face it, the Cubs-Sox series, as of now, is basically the equivalent of the Monty Python skit celebrating the biggest idiot.  White Sox fans chirped as I exited Wrigley in my Cub gear and you know what, I had nothing.  How do you give it back to the rival baseball gang when YOUR baseball gang sucks.  In youth, there is naive baseball bravado.  In adulthood, there is the cold reality of who your team really is and where they're going and it stings when your eyes keep reminding that said teams given arrow is trending downward.  But that's neither here nor there.  I'm angry about the Cubs losing today, naturally, but I'm really mad at you, Cub nation.  I'm mad at you rising up as one and giving Kerry Wood a standing ovation after he struck out Dayan Viciedo.  What the heck were you people thinking?  We're better than this Cub nation.  For years, we've bemoaned the elder members of Cub nation for celebrating the 1969 team that won nothing.  You remember Santo and Williams and Banks.  They were on the 1969 team that coughed up a ten game division lead in September in extraordinary Cub like fashion.  And now, my generation has had its 1969 moment on May 12, 2012.  Our elders saluted a team that broke their hearts and established the painful culture of losing that Theo Epstein is now tasked with changing.  And now the younger generation of Cubdom stands up and pays tribute to Kerry Wood; the very symbol of pain and suffering and Cub like disappointment.  Way to go Cub nation, you're officially members of the low IQ baseball club.  Way to go Cub nation, you're officially the meatballs that everyone says you are.  For those of you who were standing today I want to ask you something.  Do you remember Kerry Wood's failed start in game 7 of the 2003 NLCS?  Do you remember the injuries and the unfulfilled potential?  You stood and clapped for a guy who shouldn't have been on the roster in the first place.  You stood and clapped Cub nation and I stayed seated.  You know why?  Because I don't want to celebrate the past anymore.  If any of you meatballs would put your beers down and actually pay attention to the on field product, you'd know that Cub history is a horror show.  So I ask again; why the hell were you standing today Cub nation?  You know what... stand, clap, be meatballs.. knock yourselves out.  Perpetuate the stereotypes about Cub fans all you want.  I'm moving forward.  I don't want to celebrate failure anymore.  What's next Cub nation?  Do we start celebrating the 1984 team that choked away a trip to the World Series.  I know, why don't we have Mark Prior night?  Yes Cub nation, you can stand and cheer like the sheep you are and you can celebrate another Cub career that teased greatness and gave you nothing in return.

A Day In The Life....

  I am full of angst on this beautiful summer day in May so I just want to sort of rant a bit.  Trust me, you'll like my lack of structure.

  1.  Can someone tell me what exactly the Illinois Lottery was trying to accomplish with their latest commercial.  Not for nothing, but when I gamble away the rent money I'm not wondering if I'm going to meet Miss Right in the 7 Eleven.  Nor... Nor... do I want to be reminded, in any subtext, of the classic novel, Lolita.  Have you seen the commercial?  A chick, who looks like she's twelve, eyes her so called soulmate in a record store.  I guess she stole cash from her mom's wallet, played the quick pick, then went down to the old record store and decided to shop for that rarest of creatures.. a Vinyl 45.  Not only does that chick look like she's twelve, the dude she connects with looks like a forty something with a mullet.  Was the ad agency team reading Joyce Carol Oates when they created this spot?  Yes Illinois Lottery... I believe, in a city of seven million people, Humbert Humbert can find his next underage ingenue after he plays the pick four or the little lotto.  Thank you for that image Illinois Lottery, really.

  2.  You know, I'm all for the surviving members of Queen making a buck... god knows they were only multi-millionaires before they decided to prostitute the band's musical legacy but that's beside the point.  I was peeved when I heard Queen songs popping up in burger commercials and furniture spots.  But now.... the surviving members of Queen have trotted out a Freddie Mercury hologram.  You know what this means?  Some dumb cluck is going to think that Freddie Mercury really came back from beyond and then they'll probably sue the band for false advertising.  It's not even the hologram stunt that honks me off.  It's the fact that the surviving members of Queen continue to trot out sub par singers with limited range to sing the part of the late great Freddie Mercury.  I mean, really... if they're going to prostitute Queen's musical legacy, at least do it right.  A good bet might be, um, I don't know, someone who carry actually carry a tune.

  3.  And finally... as I expected.... President Obama's declaration in favor of gay rights has opened the floodgates to every celeb who thinks that their opinion actually matters.  You know, I really felt 2012 was a toss up until Jay Z came out and said that Obama did the right thing.  Thank you Sean Carter (Jay Z'S real name by the way) thank you thank you.  Now give Barack your check that's made out to the designated Democratic PAC and scoot.  You know what this means, don't you?  The airwaves will be filled with Liberals sounding the Obama trumpet and eventually, one of the liberal tribe will say something incredibly stupid and Barack will have to clunk their heads together ala Moe in the Three Stooges.  Hollywoodites.... Liberals..... please.... zip it.  Barack has this situation under control and he's kind of  busy choosing his political side and cultivating his case for a second term.  I know you guys mean well, but please.... run along.  Go to Clooney's house and stick pins in a Dubya doll.  Why.... you guys could sit in a circle and plan out the next box office flop that deals with the evil puppet master.. blah blah blah and his wag the dog type antics in a foreign land that kind of is but really isn't Iraq (wink wink.)  Just, please,.... stay out of Barack's way while he tries to earn a  second term.  Cause if you don't..... old Snidely Whiplash Romney will swoop in with his cartoon mustache and his elitist views and start declaring war on the non one percenters.  It'll be horrible..... the middle class will be rounded up by team Romney and weeded out via some GOP sponsored event reminiscent of The Hunger Games.  Damn all of you Hollywoodites... SHUT THE (BLEEP) UP!!!  For god sake, we can't have a self made, independently wealthy Mormon with good hair in the White House.  Think before you speak!!!  OH THE HUMANITY!!!  Sorry... I've been watching CNN again.  Good day all.  Resist Tyranny.  Toot!!  Toot!!

Barack and the political football

  You know, I was actually viewing President Obama's announcement that he had finally come off of the fence in support of Gay Marriage with a non cynical eye.  And then I read that Obama had been walking around for quite a few years telling the world that he would never support gay marriage.  Shame on me for letting myself believe that there was anything symbolic and or virtuous behind Obama's declaration.  This is the last time I process something without keeping my cynicism at an optimum level.  Let's be clear, President Obama didn't change the world.  Rather, he chose a political avenue.  Better yet, he finally decided to close his eyes and kick the old political football.  So let's just say this.  Obama didn't move mountains in terms of gay rights, he just elected not to punt on downs.  And why not?  Whatever his motives were and they were no doubt, political; at least Obama hasn't made himself look as politically clueless as John Kerry did way back when in 2004.  You remember?  Don't you?  Kerry, in all of his infinite political wisdom, decided, during a rally in the bible belt, to throw his support behind gay marriage.  Kerry went on to compound said gaffe by trying to backtrack on the aforementioned declaration of support but really, the stampede was already on once he opened his mouth.  The problem wasn't getting his foot out of said area, but rather, avoiding the crush of Christian Right voters who would eventually help to tip the 2004 election towards GW Bush. Only this time around, it's Obama's number one challenger, Mitt Romney, who seems to be suffering from Kerryitis.  Romney, according to a recent article, admitted to inadvertent homophobia when he was a wee lad of sixteen.  Not only that, Romney, according to a recent interview, seems to have thrown in with Obama in terms of supporting gay marriage.  Curious developments for a man who, from afar, seems to lack for conviction.  Can Romney afford to be a waffler or a political follower when no one quite trusts him to begin with?  Perhaps it's all a part of Romney's plan to lull Obama to sleep with a show of low IQ political moves.  Perhaps it's all a part of the drama that will unfold very very soon as Obama and Romney slug it out for the right to lead our great nation.  And now the questions begins?  Does Obama's decision to cater to the rather formidable gay voting bloc pay off at the old electoral window on D Day?  Better yet, does Obama's chosen political horse have enough legs to withstand the inevitable defection of the Christian Right and their rather formidable political base?  Obama's motives for backing gay marriage may be extremely transparent but at least he's fired the first salvo in what may become a very very interesting race for the presidency.  Ah politics.... and the fickle and the disingenuous shall lead us.

Tom Tunney Just Doesn't Get It...

  So I'm watching the news and I hear Alderman Tom Tunney going on about how he needs to study the proposed "Fenway Plan" that the Cubs have on the table to try and renovate Wrigley Field going forward.  Judging by Tunney's choice of words, he's in full CHA mode and once again, the Cubs are being made to kiss the political ring of a power broker who enjoys making his most lucrative tenant jump through hoops.  Hearing the soundbites on one of the local broadcasts from business owners around Wrigley, it seems like they've been drinking from the same cup of self delusion that Mister Tunney has been drinking from lo these many years.  One owner said that the so called Fenway Plan, which calls for shutting down certain drags around the park on game days, would cripple the small businesses surrounding the park itself.  Do said business owners realize that Wrigley Field is the lifeline OF their small businesses.  I believe that one of the pieces on the evening news estimated that the Cubs, for an 82 game season, bring in around 600 million in overall revenue.  I'm not saying Wrigleyville would crumble into economic oblivion if the Cubs packed up and left but I guarantee you, the small businesses who feel kept out of the loop by the so called Fenway Plan, would be on the same news broadcast bemoaning the Cubs for taking their goblet of revenue and going to less politically tinged pastures.  And if the Cubs DID leave Wrigley Field, how could you blame them?  It's obvious that Alderman Tunney just doesn't get it.  For that matter, it doesn't seem like his constituents get it either.  It simply hasn't registered with Alderman Tunney and his constituents that Wrigley Field has increased the property values around Wrigleyville at least ten fold over the past decade or so.  Yet, year after year we hear Tunney and his constituents react to every Wrigley based renovation plan or every proposed addition as though the park is an eyesore.  I must say, that's one valuable eyesore that's sitting at the corner of Clark and Addison if it's pulling in anywhere close to 600 million in annual revenues.  So if Alderman Tunney continues to be obtuse and Tunney's constituents continue to function under the assumption that their area will still be profitable sans Wrigley Field, then Tom Ricketts should go all It's A Wonderful Life on them.  Tom Ricketts should show them what life would be like if Wrigleyville didn't have its most visible tenant anymore.  If Tom Ricketts were smart, he would find a parcel of land and build a new Wrigley Field somewhere else.  I know it's a sacrilege to even think about the Cubs moving away from Clark and Addison but the more Tom Tunney stonewalls the Cubs from making Wrigley Field economically viable,  the more it becomes obvious what Tom Ricketts has to do and MUST do.  As Tim Robbins sang in his political mock-u-mentary, Bob Roberts...... and they complain and complain and complain.  Keep complaining Mister Tunney.  Keep complaining Mister and Misses Wrigleyville constituent.  One day, the lightbulb will pop on inside Tom Rickett's and he will do what needs to be done.  And then... cue the band... Tunney and the rest of Wrigleyvilleits will complain and complain and complain.  And you know what, I wouldn't shed a tear for them.  Not a one.  As Joni Mitchell said.... "you don't know what you have until it's gone."  Let's just hope that Alderman Tunney and his constituents are listening.

The NFL And The Cycle Of Life

  I want everyone, in the wake of Junior Seau's apparent suicide, to stop vilifying the NFL.  Seau, as you know, was a former pro bowl standout with the Chargers before making two more career stops in Miami and finally New England.  Here's my take.  Nobody made Junior Seau or Dave Duerson play such a violent game.  Nobody made Seau or Duerson or any of the other deceased football players play a game that could ultimately shorten their life span.  NFL football is the ultimate deal with the devil; a shortened life span for the opportunity to play a game that you love.  A game that will more than likely cripple you but make you financially comfortable if you steer clear of its many trappings and excesses.  If there is a magic bullet to stop the brutality of the sport of football from turning brains to mush, I'd like to hear it.  And that's the point.... there is no panacea in terms of player safety in the NFL.   The only way for the NFL to ensure that CTE related tragedies like Dave Duerson don't occur is to limit the years that their employees give to the game.  Now we all know that isn't going to happen, don't we?  You can restrict violent hits and you can reconfigure helmets but football is and always be a violent game.  It was violent in its early days and it's violent now.   The only difference between say, the era of Butkus and Buffone is the fact that the evolution of social media and television has made the league more image conscious.

  Before ESPN and before the advent of cable, and before the advent of social media, teams could play dirty with their hired guns without the fear of some news outlet exposing the logistics of a game that is still as cut throat as it ever was.  The only difference is that the NFL has better spin control and better spin control means not allowing you and I to witness the murkier side of the business. For every Seau and every Duerson and every Mike Webster there's a kid out there with the talent to make it to the NFL.  And that young star will sacrifice himself and his body and his overall lifespan to play a game he loves and to get handsomely rewarded for doing it. And sadly, that young man will probably wake up in his fifties, far from the brights light of the gridiron, and his body will remind him of all that he gave up for the game of football.  There will be more Seau's and and more Duerson's and more Websters.  And there will be men lining up to take their place and after those young men are bashed into crippled hulks... the cycle will repeat itself.  This is the reality of the NFL.  No image conscious commissioner can stop the inevitable cycle of football life.  No overpaid lab geek can stop the vicious cycle of life in the NFL by creating new helmets and what not.  The death of Junior Seau isn't a cause to burn the NFL in effigy.  If you want to castigate the NFL, castigate it for being inflexible to the needs of those former employees who want nothing more than decent health care and a fair slice of a financial pie that is more than big enough to spread around.  You know what Junior Seau's death is?  It's a sobering reminder about the the game we all love, the game of football.  It's a moment to pause and remember just how much those guys we cheer for on Sunday sacrifice for sixteen weeks a year every year.  The game of football is poetic, it is Americana personified.  But it's also cruel.  While one of its most accomplished members lies in a morgue, the cycle goes on and the wheels keep on turning and the money keeps on flowing and someone younger and talented steps in to fill the void.  It's just the way it is.... it's the NFL.

The American Circus

  Would it be crass to say that the Trayvon Martin case is starting to take on the flavor of Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire Of The Vanities?"  Here me out here.  Like Wolfe's famed novel, we have a tragedy that once again illustrates the fractured racial lines in our great country.  Like Wolfe's novel, we have the parasites and the opportunist milling about in search of a camera in which to stir up the emotions of a grieving family that is demanding accountability.  Yes, I'm talking about you Al Sharpton.  If there was any chance of getting to the truth of what happened to Trayvon Martin and if there was any chance of cooler heads prevailing while the case un-tangled itself, the presence of America's favorite opportunist virtually doomed that hopeful possibility.  Now before you accuse me of lighting up a famed African American Activist, let me say  this.  I am color blind to the media parasites of this world.  I am color blind when it comes to the rabble rousers who use tragedy to fatten their wallets or capture headlines.  For every Al Sharpton and for every Jessie Jackson, there is Gloria Allred.  Allred, like Sharpton, essentially creates anarchy in the name of publicity.  I guess what I'm saying is, I am choosing to tune out the static that Sharpton has created during the time of an absolutely unimaginable tragedy.  I am choosing to process the facts of the case in small bites before I denounce George Zimmerman as a racist buffoon who acted in cold blood.  I choose not to be manipulated by the media this time, I choose to stay above the fray.  Perhaps it's my lingering disenchantment with the media at large that has brought me to this cautious point.  I am convinced, more than ever, that balance is no longer apart of the journalistic equation.  And if you think I'm overstating, watch CNN and Fox during the height of political season.  I have no doubt that the Trayvon Martin case, if it already hasn't, will turn into a political football of some sort.  Actually I'm surprised that the anti gun and pro gun debates haven't broken out.  Al Sharpton has already shown up, so it's to be expected that some quasi celebrity who fancies themselves a political sage, will seek out a photo op and eventually say something maddeningly self serving.  Hell, I think I can hear the footsteps of the self serving Hollywood liberals now.  Look, I'm not advocating that George Zimmerman had a right to play the role of Charles Bronson.  If he shot Trayvon Martin in cold blood because of the color of his skin, he deserves the maximum punishment possible.  I just want the facts, sans circus and sans politicizing

The Great GarPax.. Exposed.....

  Well, this is the last time I let my heart over rule what my eyes see on the court.  The regular NBA season trading deadline passed and both Gar Forman and John Paxson unequivocally started, time and again, that the Bulls, as constructed, were good enough to win a championship.  I guess GarPax forget the fact that their construction of gritty try hard second teamers and one basketball dynamo would derail if anything happened to said dynamo; AKA D Rose.  Well, with one torn ACL in D Rose's knee, they are being reminded of this rather painful fact.  And if Bulls fans wanted to believe in all of the Churchill like dogma being tossed around about the Bulls surviving the loss of their superstar and somehow advancing towards a rematch with the Heat...... they need only let Game 2 slap them back into reality.  There's a difference between where the Bulls were and where they are now without Derrick Rose.  Did you see what I saw last night Bulls fans or are you still as delusional as Tibs and the Bulls brain trust are?  The grand illusion was exposed, no question about it.  Only this time. it didn't take the star power of LeBron and the Heat to do it.  No, all it took was one torn ACL to expose the flawed basketball creation of Gar Pax.  There they were, the survivors of the try hard movement.  They came out in Bulls colors and they tried hard and they pleaded for support and then..... they struggled to create their own shots or find an offensive rhythm and subsequently blew a gasket in the second half.  Actually, witnessing the 35 point second half wasn't that surprising to me.  What was surprising is how the Bulls simply weren't quick enough defensively to combat the dribble penetration of the 76ers.  Without their superstar, the little engine that could suddenly went boom.  More to the point, the Bulls playoff express imploded like the Blues mobile did after reaching Daley Plaza.  So am I angry?  No.  Disappointed is more of the word.  I WILL be angry if the Bulls lose the series to the Sixers and nothing is done to make sure that this team can adequately survive another injury to D Rose.  I WILL be angry if Gar Pax and Tibs and the rest of the Bulls brain trust continue to say they they're good enough to contend once they get Rose back.  Ask yourself..... What will D Rose look like when he does return?  Who knows if he'll be the same.  This is Chicago, major injuries to star players rarely have a happy ending.  And if Gar Pax expects Rose to ride back in after major knee surgery and carry them back to this point again, they are as delusional as they appear.  GarPax's creation has been exposed.  In fact, the short sidedness of the Bulls organization has been exposed.  You can't help but ask yourself why the Bulls organization would build their dream house without a fail safe behind it or without the hindsight to insulate themselves from the catastrophe that occurred when Derrick Rose crumpled to the court in agony.  So... there's nothing to do now but wait and hope that somehow the playoff basketball joy doesn't end in a week or two.  And if does, I want Gar Pax to Rose proof their baby.  No more hemming and hawing when a move needs to be made, no more celebrating the lunch pail mentality of a team that will continously win the regular season and probably nothing else.  It's time for action Gar Pax.  It's time to step up.  Your move guys.

In defense of Hunter S Thompson

  I read the numbers on the film adaptation of Hunter S Thompson's "Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas" and I wondered how it could've been so universally ignored upon its release in the year 1995.  After all, Johnny Depp was playing Thompson and Terry Gilliam was co writing and directing.  I figured that the critics, savage as they were, were once again failing to understand the fantasia like world of one Terry Gilliam.  And now, as I watch the film adaptation of the book I so loved, I understand why the film version failed and I understand why all of the people who enjoyed the book version of Fear and Loathing were up in arms about Terry Gilliam's attempt at recreating a literary Picasso.  For starters, the film is wrong on so many levels that I don't even know where to begin.  Johnny Depp, gifted as he is, seems to be playing up the very caricature of Hunter S Thompson that Thompson tried to desperately to disconnect himself from.  It's almost heartbreaking to see a great literary presence like Hunter S Thompson reduced to nothing more than debauchery and buffoonery on screen.  Was Depp actually listening to Thompson during all their years of friendship when he said, on countless occasions, that Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas was a playfully exaggerated take on what everyone expected him to be?  I read a few blurbs on writer director Terry Gilliam's frantic scramble to get Fear and Loathing the film financed and then scripted.  Apparently, Gilliam and one of his main co writers, Tony Gilroy, banged out an adaptation of Hunter S Thompson's beloved novel in less than a week.  Watching the film, it seems like Gilliam and his writers, in their haste, failed to take heed of one critical element that makes the book so understated and so brilliant; it's the fact that Thompson's alter ego is forever wearing a poker face.  No matter the level of chaos he creates, Thompson's alter ego remains oblivious to it all with nothing more than a shrug.  To shine a light on the debauchery of Hunter S Thompson's alter ego is to reduce the book to nothing more than an overbearing parody.  Watching Gilliam's film adaptation of Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, I couldn't help but wonder if Gilliam was laughing with Thompson or laughing at him. The most disappointing thing is that Hollywood made another Hunter S Thompson novel, The Rum Diary, into a film and committed the same mistake that Gilliam did in terms of needlessly turning up the volume on the material.  Again, Johnny Depp was playing the caricature of Thompson and not the man himself  I think I'm even more up in arms about The Rum Diary because that novel is NOT Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas.  It makes you wonder if anyone in Hollywood has actually read or even truly grasps what Thompson's work was all about.  In death, he has been franchised and or pigeon holed by Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas; the very novel that brought him to our attention in the first place.

The Path Of Tebow

     Personally I don't care about Tim Tebow.  To me, he is a Closeau like figure that succeeds in spite of his own ineptitude.  No matter how hard John Elway tries to get rid of Jacques Closeau, er, Tim Tebow, something strangely Pink Panther esque happens.  If Tebow is anything, he is a maddening paradigm for football purists everywhere.  He has difficulty throwing the football and making reads but yet, he won a playoff game.  Maybe my indifference towards Tebow is based more on his over exuberant declarations of faith more than anything.  Tebow wins a playoff game... he thanks God.  I was actually surprised that he didn't thank god for allowing him to enjoy Super Bowl week.  Under reported was the fact that Tebow was walking around Indy like a wide eyed kid just weeks after getting his head handed to him by Belichick and the Patriots.  My hope is two fold.  I hope that Tebow actually BECOMES a quarterback.  Not just a quarterback.  A LEGITIMATE quarterback.  If he could actually bring anything to his given position, perhaps the anti Tebow sentiment wouldn't be as fierce as it is now.  If he could become a QB perhaps his declarations of faith would be treated by me with subtle eye rolls and not full on vomiting attacks.  So either two things will happen with young Mister Tebow.  Either John Elway will actually turn him into a quarterback or...... the Belichicks of the world will correctly identify Tebows' QB related deficiencies and he will be shown the door by the NFL.  And then Tim can go back to the happy happy moral superiority of Christianity behind closed doors and the rest of us can exhale.  Either that or the curtain will be pulled back and Tebow will be exposed as a moral hypocrite.  How many times have you seen men of god tumble like Humpty Dumpty from the heights of religious sanctity?  I have no doubt that Tebow will be one of them.  For starters, he likes the limelight and that is the shortest path to temptation.  Not even a so called man of God is immune to the trappings of fame.  So that's what I'm waiting for I guess.  I'm waiting for Tebow to be exposed as a runner with a limited quarterback IQ or I'm waiting for him to sin.  Can you imagine if Christianity's ultimate PR machine goes astray?  Oh, what a delicious moment that would be.  Now if you'll excuse me... it's time for some Tebowing.

The Unbearable Lightness Of Lin

   I think I owe young Jeremy Lin an apology.  I don't think my indifference towards him is based solely on his personality.  It's not like he's Tebow, pointing skyward and blowing the trumpet of his beloved Christianity every few minutes.  I'd like Tebow a lot more if he would simply take a breath and shut up.  But bare in mind, these are the writings of an atheist who views Christianity as a high and mighty sect of do gooders who simply don't know when to quit.  But back to mister Jeremy Lin.  I'm not bothered by the media coverage of his rather herculean efforts on the basketball court.  I'm just going to wait it out until Carmelo Anthony comes back and Lin doesn't see the basketball again.  Lin will go back to the bench, Melo will be Melo, and the Knicks will be the bloated basketball blob they've been for the past decade or so.  Maybe my indifference towards Lin spawns from being a jealous midwesterner.  Being in Chicago, all I hear is New York this and New York that.  The Garden is the greatest basketball venue in the world.  The Knicks fans are the most knowledgeable fans in basketball.  And now the headlines are filled with slobbering East coast media types throwing rose pedals at young Jeremy Lin.  Maybe I've reached my breaking point in terms of my midwestern inferiority complex and Jeremy Lin is paying the price for it.  Or maybe I just don't give a damn about the Knicks or the Yankees or anything New York related.  Maybe my indifference towards Jeremy Lin is because he's not one of my tribe from a Chicago team.  Perhaps it's the idea that ESPN gives forty seconds to my Bulls and almost five minutes to Lin and the Knicks.  FYI... the Knicks are the eighth seed in basketballs Eastern conference and the Bulls, forty seconds and all, are the number one seed.  But that doesn't matter because ESPN can't resist slobbering all over anything that's either Boston or New York based.  Gosh darn it, I don't think that the four letter network features either the Red Sox or Yankees in my home market enough.  I wouldn't be surprised if ESPN devoted an hour before a nationally televised Knicks game to the origins of the mystical MSG.  By the way, this is the same network that devoted an hour of programming to the origins of Fenway Park.  Yuck.  But this is the life of a Chicagoan I guess.  I have to travel to NYC to get my Broadway on.  I have to travel to Madison Square Garden to become basketball smart.  Perhaps I'm not bright enough to appreciate the essence of a Jeremy Lin because I live in Chicago.

The Roar Of A Disillusioned Ex Catholic

  So I'm on the train heading home from work and I'm reading Steve Huntley's column in the Sun Times.  Huntley, who in my view, will never be mistaken for an Obama supporter took the president to task for pushing a federal law that requires Catholic Hospitals, Charities, and Universities to provide all employees with health insurance that includes coverage for contraception, sterilization, and the morning after birth control pill.  Huntley accused the president of waging a war on the Constitution and basically undermining the mission
of the Catholic Church and everything it stands for.  I have a news flash for Mister Huntley and the Catholic Church.  This isn't a matter of constitutional rights.  No, it's a matter of common sense.  Whether the Catholic Church wants to admit it or not, we're living in the age of HIV and AIDS.  Encouraging the flock not to wear condoms is just plain lunacy when there's an incurable disease out there decimating people from all walks of life.  Quick question for Mister Huntley and the Catholic Church?  What is one of the risk factors for HIV/AIDS?  Anyone? Anyone?  The answer is... (drumroll) having sex without....(wait for it) contraceptives.  Then again, why doesn't this backlash surprise me.  I was a Catholic once and then I grew up and I realized what a bizarre ideology I had been bred into.  In my view, Catholicism is an OZ like utopia where mortal men take a vow and are expected to fore sake all of the wants and desires that make them human so they can serve the church without fail.  Love thy neighbor but if that neighbor is gay or lesbian, they have to go down the block to a separate place of worship.  Hell, I was pretty much labeled as a black sheep of my own faith because I had sex before marriage.  Good thing I ignored the thematic ruling on contraceptives; otherwise, I would've brought a child into the world before I was ready.  Look, just because I'm a disillusioned Catholic doesn't mean that I'm declaring war on Catholicism as a whole.  It wasn't my bag and it made my head hurt, being a Catholic, but that's me.  There are those who will agree that Obama overstepped his bounds by forcing all Catholic entities to act in violation of their doctrine.  But what if that doctrine is misguided and archaic?  What if that doctrine isn't exactly a perfect fit for some rather unsettling times on the fornication front?  Whether the Catholic Church wants to admit it or not, there are many people like me out there.  People who, though they were bred to believe in certain commandments, will ultimately stray for the sake of both practicality and free will.  In the eyes of the Catholic Church, I committed a sin.  In my view, I made a choice and then I acted responsibly.  Obama isn't the bad guy here, I don't care what Steve Huntley or the Catholic Church says.  Obama made a choice and that choice is about responsibility and common sense, and ultimately, public safety.  The Catholic Church was or is unwilling to think in these terms so Obama simply gave them a much needed reality check.

And the Oscar goes to.. Bridesmaids?

  To me, Oscar night is a celebration of groundbreaking, non popcorn flicks.  It's a chance for smaller film makers to actually gain a fleeting moment of recognition after being overlooked by the vast majority of film goers during the given year.  Yet, this year, Bridesmaids is a best picture nominee.  Yes folks, Judd Apatow may actually pick up an Oscar before he learns how to both pace and edit his films.  Note to Mister Apatow, Funny People was a wee bit too looooooooong.  Now I thought that it was a tad bit over rated but wouldn't a film like Shame have better benefited from a best picture nomination instead of Bridesmaids?  Films like Shame are the lifeblood of whatever is left of indie cinema, if indie cinema even exists anymore.  I'm sure the positive buzz for Bridesmaids isn't much ado about nothing but does it deserve a best picture nomination?  In my world, no.  To me, nominating Bridesmaids for best picture is a slap in the face to indie pioneers like the late Adrienne Shelley and Hal Hartley.  The Academy wouldn't give these artists or their films the time of day but they let a throw away flick like Bridesmaids into the clubhouse?  Darren Aronofsky's masterpiece, Requiem For A Dream, gets ignored but the Academy nominates a little known liberal soap boxer called Margin Call?  Smaller film makers have a hard enough time finding an audience for their films and now the Academy wants to stack the deck even further by letting films like Bridemaids into the Oscar race.  I actually want to see Bridesmaids win the best picture Oscar so the Academy is forced to justify this potential cinematic tragedy.  What's next, Adam Sandler gets a best picture nomination next year for a Happy Gilmour sequel?  Why did the Academy stop by nominating by Bridesmaids?  Why didn't they nominate Michael Bay for best director for Transformers 3?  I say, next year, the Academy should nominate The Grey for best picture.  Heck, why not throw an Oscar nod towards Alvin and The Chipmunks?  Heck, I think that the Academy may be on to something.  Out with the important films.  Be gone indie film makers.  If Bridesmaids can make it as an Oscar contender, why not The Three Stooges film or the upcoming Fast and Furious 6.  Heck, Vin Diesel might be right; he deserves a best actor nomination.  In fact, I'm asking the Academy to revoke George Clooneys' best actor nomination so that Vin Diesel can finally get his just desserts on Hollywood's biggest night.  If the Academy is going to dilute everything that the Oscar stands for, they might as well not mess around with it.  The way things are going, I'm surprised that the Academy didn't nominate Transformers 3 instead of The Descendants for best picture.  You know that things are upside down in the land of Oscar when people can campaign for Seth Rogen for best supporting actor in 50/50 without being laughed out of town.  Ask yourself, is Seth Rogen your measuring stick of acting achievement?  Ask yourself, is Melissa McCarthy your measuring stick of acting achievement?  Not in my world folks, not in world.

Momma....... don't let your babies grow up to be Cub fans....

  Don't take my Cub card, I'm not resigning from the Union or jumping ship in anyway.  Rather, this is a letter to the all parents whose newest arrivals will soon be bundled up in Cubbie blue.  Don't do it.  Don't subject the newest addition to your family to the misery of Cubdom.  I've only been a Cub fan for 23 years and I've already experienced enough hell and heartbreak to last a lifetime.  Me?  Heck. what about the older generation of Cubs fans?  What about the ones who had to experience the gut wrenching collapse in 1969.  For those of you who are too young to remember, The Cubs were ten and a half games up in the division in September and blew every bit of that lead to an upstart franchise known as the New York Mets.  This is the nature of Cubdom in a nutshell.  It's a spooky place where black cats run past the collective psyche of a tortured fan base every summer and sometimes, in October.  Hell, a black cat actually ran past poor Ron Santo as he stood in the on deck during a fateful night at old Shea Stadium way back in 1969.  For all of us younger Cub fans, our 1969 moment occurred on two October nights in the year 2003.  Can you imagine watching the team that you love blow a trip to the World Series in just 48 grueling hours?  You can if you're a Cub fan.  And if you're a Cub fan those moments in both 1969 and 2003 hurt as much as they did in real time.  I won't even mention 1984, we've all seen the footage of the ball dribbling between Leon Durhams legs.  We've all cursed the footage of Steve Garvey circling the bases at Jack Murphy Stadium after his walk off homer in game four of the NLCS.  I'm sure Steve Garvey is a decent fellow, but I want to pummel him every time I see him running the bases with his fist in the air.  Garvey, you son of a....... For me, I still can't watch that foul pop sailing towards Bartman without those feelings of loss and or deflation bubbling to the surface.  New parents, this is what you're about to inflict on your newborn son or your newborn daughter.  Does any child need to be inducted into this misery?  Yes I know that Tom Ricketts earned a few style points and a few inches of renewed rope by hiring Theo Epstein.  But is Theo immune to the perils of  Cubdom?  Didn't we celebrate the arrival of Lou Piniella and Dusty Baker once upon a time?  They were baseball men too and they thought they were brave enough to look Cubdom in its mystical blue eye and break the curse or the spell or whatever the heck we call it.  I worry that Theo, like Dusty and Lou, will ultimately turn to dust.  I worry that Theo will ultimately turn into a defenseless blob of baseball stupid just like Lou and Dusty did.  Look at Lou Piniellas' last few years if you think I'm overstating.  I beg of you, future parents, don't do this to your kids.  Don't make them go through this hell.  And in case the national media is wondering; we take the heartbreaks of 69, 84, and 03 to heart because success is a fleeting thing to a Cub fan.  We don't get many Octobers around here and we don't get many chances to complete for Baseballs holy grail.  The Cubs are not the Yankees, they don't fall down the mountain and start climbing upward again.  This is where this so called pressure comes from; the very same pressure that turned Dusty Baker in a bitter self deluded lush.  The same pressure that turned Uncle Lou into a burned out, babbling hunk of ineptitude.  For us Cub fans, it's Everest or bust.  That's how we've been bred.  To a Cub fan, success is sort of like the mythical Keyser Soze in The Usual Suspects.  Sometimes it's here and then poof.... it's gone.  It's not that I don't want the next generation of Cub nation to join the rank and file on Clark and Addison every summer, I do.  If you parents are intent on dressing your little ones in Cub gear and taking them to Mesa and then to Wrigley a few times a year, let me make one suggestion; a good psychiatrist.  Welcome aboard.