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.

The underappreciated film genius known as Steven Soderbergh....

   I'll say it right now.  I don't understand you, mister and misses film goer.  Looking at the numbers so far, you virtually ignored Steven Soderberghs' newest thriller called Haywire over the weekend.  Critics have labeled it as an arty action flick so I guess that's why you stayed away.  Or maybe it's that label that Soderbergh has an "arty" director.  Maybe you simply read all of the negative pub that said that Soderbergh was trying to look smarter than everyone else by trying to reinvent the action film genre.  That's fine but let me say this mister and misses film goer.  You and countless others flocked to see Quantum Of Solace and Quantum Of Solace was an arty action flick that wasn't actually a Bond film.  Again, I'm stumped.  In the interest of full disclosure, I enjoy Steven Soderberghs work a lot.  I was one of the handful of film goers that saw his experimental film with porn star Sasha Grey, The Girlfriend Experience.  Anyway.... I'm calling you out mister and misses film goer.  You gave Soderbergh's politically ham handed infection film, Contagion, almost eighty million bucks but you ignored Haywire.  What is wrong with you people?  You poured out greenbacks by the truckload to give to Michael Bay and the Transformers franchise and Michael Bay's only skill is to blow stuff up.  LOUDLY.  You paid eleven bucks to see a bunch of indistinguishable CGI bots fighting but you won't see a smart action flick like Haywire?  What am I missing here?  What has left you cold about Haywire mister and misses film goer?  Is it the fact that Soderbergh makes films that actually have, oh I don't know, brainpower.  You shun Haywire and yet..... you filled the box office coffers for Alvin and the friggin Chipmunks.  What am I missing here?  Help me, please.  I don't want to be a film elitist here, but this is an intervention mister and misses film goer.  I want you to see The Girlfriend Experience.  And once you get that mainstream blech out of your system, I urge you to rent... say... Out of Sight or Solaris.  OK, even Solaris kind of lost me..... but that's beside the point.  I want you to embrace this visionary director named Steven Soderbergh.  I want you to notice how his characters have brains, how the dialogue isn't merely throw away filler for yet another gaudy special effects sequence.  For god sake, just say no when Transformers 4 comes out.  Just say no to hacks like Michael Bay and say YES... to visionaries like Steven Soderbergh.  I have faith in you my fellow film goers, I know that you have taste and I know that you want to be challenged.  Please, don't let my faith in you be in vain.  Strike a blow for this wonderful medium known as film, for craftsman like Steven Soderbergh.  Hell, don't only strike a blow for Soderbergh; strike a blow for directors like Lea Pool and little seen indies like Lost and Delirious.  Strike a blow for directors like Steven Soderbergh and indie gems like Guinevere.  I know you've never heard of it, only three people saw it before it left town.  That's my point  Please, tear up that ticket to Sherlock Holmes.  Run past that god awful mess known as Alvin and The Chipmunks.  I know it's hard but you can say no to cinematic schlock mister and misses film goer.  When it's late at night, stop and give that small little indie film a chance before you flip through the channels in search of that banal mega hit you missed in the theaters.  And don't tell me you've see Juno because Juno is a mainstream indie and that's another story for another time.  I believe in you mister and misses film goer, I know you can change.

                                                    Sincerely,
                                                    Mister Film

Cowardly Joe

    When Joe Paterno passed on Sunday I felt a twinge of empathy.  Hold on, put your torches down.  I felt empathy for his kids, having lost my own mother almost two years ago.  There's nothing worse than watching helplessly as a parent slips away.  I wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.  Hearing the reports of Paterno dying, I was taken back to a snowy Sunday morning in December; the day that my siblings and I tried to come to terms with the loss of our mother and the anchor of our family.  My own feelings of loss aside, my empathy for Joe Paterno goes no further than that.  I don't want to hear that he was there for his kids and his university.  Oh, he was there for his kids; the ones that made him the king of the college gridiron.  Oh he was there for his kids alright; the ones that made him the most powerful man in Pennsylvania.  The problem is, Joe Paterno wasn't there for the kids that didn't make his pockets fuller.  The problem is, he didn't give a damn about the kids that didn't help contribute to his ever growing power base.  I'm tired of the news outlets painting Paterno as a victim of circumstance.  His sins were self inflicted, he chose to be a coward.  For his cowardice, he was dismissed from his position of power.  Period.  End of story.  ESPN can throw its boquets at Paterno and everyone can pretend that his 409 wins hold water but here's the reality; they don't mean a damn thing to those kids that Joe Paterno failed to protect.  Paterno's 409 wins mean absolutely nothing to those boys who will be scarred for the rest of the lives because Joe Paterno was too busy protecting his empire.  It infuriates me when I hear stories about the sycophants in Happy Valley sweeping snow from uncle Joe's statue.  You know who are.  You're the ones with tears in your eyes.  You're the ones blathering on about how your so called Messiah did all that he could.  You know what you hero became at the end PSU nation?  He became a bewildered politician passing the buck.  Pennsylvania's feel good folk hero was nothing more than a self preservationist who chose the path of obliviousness.  Paterno chose to be oblivious when children were being victimized and needed him the most.  This is what you're mourning Penn State Nation, a selfish little man who chose the path of self preservation.  That's why he was fired, stop deluding yourself Penn State nation.  To the Paterno family, I offer my sympathies for your loss.  Let me say this though.  I hope, that when Paterno closed his eyes for the last time, he was haunted by the images of all those kids that he betrayed.

Confessions Of A Con Man

  So I'm watching the Clippers and Minnesota from Lob City and I see the ESPN news ticker flash across my screen with an item about the civil suit against former Syracuse coach Bernie Fine being dismissed.  Turns out, Fine's accuser, Zach Tomaselli, admitted that he fabricated emails to support his claim.  So not only I am worried about poor Mister Fine restarting whatever is left of his career, I'm worried about the twisted sense of vindication that will seep down towards Happy Valley and the throngs that support old Joey P and all things Penn State.  I can hear Penn State nation now as they light their torches in support of good old Jo Pa, Uncle Jerry, and the PSU program.  Well... if Tomaselli lied..... then maybe all of Sanduskys' victims lied.  I can see all of that misguided PSU pride bubbling up into an ugly cauldron of blind denial as they burn the Sandusky victims in effigy on social media sites or on the radio and television airwaves down there in Happy Valley.  Think I'm painting with a broad brush?  Let me say this.  Former PSU player turned radio host LaVarr Arrington expressed disgust at what Sandusky had "allegedly" done, he screamed for his beloved alma matar to be scrubbed free of the shame.  Fast forward a few weeks.  When Bill O'Brien was hired as the new PSU field boss, guess who screamed about a non Paternoite being chosen to lead the university going forward?  You guessed it, La Varr Arrington.  This is the mindset down in Happy Valley and it's both maddening and perhaps dangerous in many respects.  If you ask a member of PSU nation to read the Grand Jury report, that person will most likely recite Jo Pa's coaching record verbatim.  Look, I know that people want their fifteen minutes.  I know that people will sometimes lie to get those fifteen minutes.  I just wish Mister Tomaselli had picked a better time to come clean as a liar.  Let me amend that.  I wish he had kept his mouth shut if he all wanted was some camera time.  Sanduskys' accusers are already fighting an uphill battle trying to get justice in the state of Pennsylvania Mister Tomaselli and you just made their fight all the more harder.  I bet you anything that Sanduskys' lawyers saw the news item that I saw tonight.  I bet you anything that they're already thinking of ways to use Tomasellis' duplicity as a means of discrediting every allegation that's been documented in those grand jury briefs.  You want to be an opportunist Mister Tomaselli, fine.  Next time though, pick your spots.  Better yet, you should've stayed silent until the Sandusky victims had their chance to be heard.

Confessions of a bachelor.....

  Does God or whatever is it up that hovers above us put some people on certain paths in terms of relationships?  Is it like the lottery I wonder?  There are people who find their soul mates and live happily ever after and then there are guys like me who seem to have an aversion to any form of relationship bliss.  I mean, I thought I was on that path.  That is, until my significant other at the time, god bless her, informed me that she was a lesbian.  For the record though, it did make for great fiction that nobody wanted.  Anyway.... I've loved four women in my life.  One was an addict, one was suicidal, one was gay.  The fourth one is an absolute delight, understands me like no one ever has.  Did I mention that said woman is also married and lives in another state?  I guess I'm a broke ass Carrie Bradshaw; heavy on the Testosterone and light on the Jimmy Choos.  I do have a misses Big though so go figure.  I'll never marry my Misses Big though.  Heck, my goal is to remain in the same room with her for five minutes without having a stupid fight of some kind.  I must confess, it wasn't the fates that doomed me in terms of Misses Big.  No, I made that mess on my own.  I made decisions based on need in terms of that particular relationship and all hell broke loose.  Now everything is twisted and tangled and lines are blurred.  Then again, what am I going on and on about?  I'm not marriage material.  Why inflict that misery on a member of the opposite sex?  Besides, if I do eventually find a nice sane woman who isn't married or gay or suicidal I might have kids.  You know what that means?  It means that there's a good chance that I'll end up creating a bloodline of lonely hearts in search of relationship bliss.  That means that those kids will probably end up with their own Mister or Misses Big at some point.  Which means, I'll be bombarded by psychiatric bills.  Then again, perhaps my children, if I ever do have any, will avoid the relationship pitfalls of their old man.  Remember kids, always lay the foundation of your relationships before you have intimacy.  NEVER break this rule, your father speaks from experience.  You will regret it if you do.

Ode To A Departed Good Bye Girl

  What was it about that girl?  Ah, that question.  Asked by so many over the years.  I don't know.... sometimes you stumble upon the one person who can love you for better or for worse.  Sometimes... you stumble upon that one person that just fits you best.  You were it Kat.  I can see you now... rolling your eyes, a half smile half smirk on your face.  You hated the shortening of your given name and I enjoyed pushing your buttons.  I'm calling you Kat (short for Catherine) because I'm mad at you now.  I'm mad at you for not listening to me... (you never did.)  I'm mad at you for never believing me when I told you that you weren't as fucked up as you always thought you were.  I'm mad at you for not believing me when I told you were beautiful and for making me so angry when I found out that were actually capable of lying to me.  I'm mad at you for not knowing your limitations, for being in a place you shouldn't have been.  I'm mad at you for depriving me of our phone calls, for depriving me of hearing your voice on my worst days.  I'm mad at you for depriving me of your hugs.  I'm mad at you for taking away any chance of me holding you again.  And here I thought I would be the one to self destruct into oblivion.  Remember the bridge?  Remember those dark thoughts of swallowing mood pills like M and M's?  It was your fault, being who you were.  It was only inevitable that I fell in love with you to the point of absolute tunnel vision.  I told I loved you, you ran, I went crazy.  Again.... drumroll.... you never listened to me.  Not when I told you were beautiful, not even when I explained in almost painful detail WHY  I loved you for the umpteenth time.  I'm mad at you for all the Christmases you're going to miss (that was always YOUR holiday).  But with a smile and a squeeze you could always make it bearable, even for a cynic like me.  I'm seeing you now..... stopping to look at every light on the mag mile, studying every inch of the Christmas tree in Daley Plaza.  Each season that we were together, I would fall in love with you all over again and I'd feel complete to the point of sheer dread.  I never told you but I was always afraid you'd wake up one day and come to your senses.  We were supposed to grow old together Kat.  We're supposed to be sitting in a bar someplace talking about where we've been and where we're going.  I'm supposed to be asking you to marry me for the umpteenth time and you, on cue, are supposed to run towards the sanctity of the left coast.  I miss your affinity for nicotine (didn't anyone ever teach you how to empty an ashtray?)  I miss your glasses left on the table and all of your forms of general chaos and disorder.  To think, I always griped about the general apathy you showed towards any and all forms of Housekeeping and now..... I would give anything for one more stupid fight about that or the men you chose after we ceased being a couple.  I miss not being able to stay mad at you.  You could always break my resistance with your "innocent" voice.  So here's to you Catherine..... Damn, you did it again.  Catherine.... the menthol smoking gal with the deep aversion to anything resembling a skirt.  Catherine.... the two week artist.  Catherine..... the graceful athlete.  (I'm sorry I told you that I could skate.)  Here's to you Catherine.  Catherine....my lover and my friend...... (you ended it by the way... actually you ended it numerous times.....surprise surprise)  Thank you for fifteen years and thank you for inspiring all of that fiction that nobody wants.  Thanks for loving an old square like me.

                                          Yours Forever:
                                          Danial Alexander Ramirez

The Big Con

  At first, the firing of Jerry Angelo as Bears General Manager left me drunk with glee.  Finally, the Bear organization and its new leader, George McCaskey, had embraced the concept of accountability.  But as the hours tick towards another day, the picture becomes all the more clearer.  First off, the massive house cleaning wasn't done by George McCaskey.  No, he gave Ted Phillips the pistol and Phillips was the one who did the whacking.  Gone are GM Jerry Angelo, offensive coordinator Mike Martz and quarterbacks coach Shane Day.  Now here's the question that Bear nation should be asking itself.  Were these sacrifices made for the sake of simply looking official?  I'm reminded of the old saying... look busy and do nothing.  The Bears looked busy but what have they done?  Well, they gave the fanbase some scalps in order to placate them.  That's what the Bears organization does, it placates its fan base; nothing more.  If Ted Phillips really wanted to get the attention of the Bears fan base, he would've swept out head coach Lovie Smith as well.  Then George McCaskey should've lowered the boom on Ted Phillips.  Instead, this is just another shell game being run by the Bears organization and believe me, they're the masters of the old slight of hand.  Didn't we feel this way when Wannie was launched?  And what did we get?  We got Dick Jauron?  And when the Jauron era mercifully ended what did we get?  We got Lovie Smith.  Hoo.  Ray.  It's the same old same old.  Bear nation will be happy until they realize that it's just a con.  According to George McCaskey, Lovie Smith will remain the head coach and the power structure will remain as is at Hallas Hall.  Which means..... these so called winds of change don't really represent any form of significant change at all.  Believe me, the full depth of this con job will be revealed once Tim Ruskell gets uncle Jerry's old job as GM and the usual no name assistant is hired to be the offensive coordinator and or Jay Cutler's newest punching bag.  Real change means that the whole organization is restructured.  Real change means the hiring of a proven GM with an eye for talent evaluation.  Real change means the hiring of a proven football coach.  One, preferably, that is a true tactician and lacks that annoying air of self delusion that seems to be Lovie Smith's calling card in many respects.  Well, at least the Bears fired someone.  I was worried that the organization was becoming reminiscent of the film Office Space.  Then again, Jerry Angelo was allowed to stumble and bumble his way through nine years of wasted drafts picks and desperate free agent deals.  Only in Lake Forest is this tolerated.  But uncle Jerry is gone now and the Smith/Ruskell era should begin shortly.  I'm sure that Aaron Rodgers and Matt Stafford won't sleep a wink tonight.