Saturday, March 17, 2018

Happy wife, happy life.

It's on. We've all heard the saying, "Happy wife, happy life." As a rule I generally tend to agree with the sentiment of that statement, I just find compliance to be the part where I suffer. Maybe obedience is the word. But here in our Garden of Eden, er, newish home we hope to die in one day, and I do mean one day waaaaay down the road, the time has come to dig my heels into the sand. Time to stand up for what I believe in, what I was RAISED to believe. Time for the war of the worlds. It's one of the oldest marital arguments that dates back to the invention of the toliet. As of this moment, I refuse to be cowered into submission over mans basic human right: to hang the roll of toilet paper with the sheet coming off the back.

Yes I have seen that little picture from like 300 B.C. If that is the sole basis for your argument, then you have no argument. That was 1891. Things were different then. Life was different. We started out on horses, but eventually all learned to pilot four wheeled petroleum powered vehicles. Would you go back to taking the horse to the saloon just because that's the way your great-great-great grand-dad did? We lit our homes with candles and lanterns in 1891. Would you eschew electricity, and your laptop, and your cell phone, and your refrigerator, garbage disposal, television, roomba, ferbie, vibrator (how'd that get in there), and you get my point in favor of wax drippings everywhere to relive the glory years? In the late 19th century, a single round, bolt action rifle was the weapon of choice when hunting for dinner was the norm. Would you give up your Remington R-15 VTR Predator with laser scope for a glorified slingshot? OK I lost you on that one. But here is my point: just because some simpleton scribbled a crude drawing on a rag of hemp cloth 127 years ago and held it up to the heavens for blessed approval does not mean I am going to kowtow into submission.

Why? I hear you asking. It's like this. We are about to celebrate a blessed event. And we're not having another child. Medically impossible at this point. But this year we will reach the 25 year mark for our marriage. I feel that is long enough. 25 years. If we are blessed to make it to 50, then this is the half way point. It should be my turn. It's time to pass the torch.

Here is my challenge to all you deniers. Hang it the other way for a week. If after seven days of wiping your bum you do not feel that tearing it off the back is just a little bit easier, then go back. It won't cost you anything save for a few new blisters while your callouses build up. Well, it might cost you a little sanity around the house, and it might cost you the price of a lovely dinner to make nice with your better half after the screaming match is over, but it is worth the effort. Consider this: what if the inventor was drunk when he made the drawing? What if good ole Seth Wheeler was having this same argument with his wife, and she did the old switcheroo with the documents (vis-a-vis Winthorpe and Valentine trying to fool Clarence Beeks) before he sent them out? The list of possibilities is endless. But I do know this, the fight will not be easy. It will not be swift. It may take internal fortitude the likes of which modern man has never seen. But half my marriage has been spent giving the happy wife her way. The next 25 years look to be rosy indeed, let's just hope it doesn't take that long to settle the the argument. When it comes to the cleanliness of my poop shoot, I will stop at nothing until I reach eternal bliss.

Wednesday, July 19, 2017

My way or the highway.

The human brain. Centuries of innovation, inspiration, and invention, and we don't know shit about our own brains. But I know this: no two are alike. How else to explain the phenomenon that the same brain in two different bodies can come up with two vastly different conclusions given the same circumstances. And no I am not talking about Abbey Normal and Igor (pronounced Eye-gore) from Young Frankenstein. Recent events, both large and small, have got my own brain thinking, and this can be very dangerous.

Scenario #1: frustrated drivers enduring unbearable traffic in rush our. Two lanes merging, marked signs clearly visible. One driver decides that because he is not in the fastest lane it is acceptable to block both lanes with his car. This creates more frustration, which leads to road rage, which leads to involuntary manslaughter, which in turn leads to a lengthy prison sentence and a new friendship with a 300 pound man names Wolf. Luckily for the rest of us, a miracle happens and a cop witnesses the event. The result: cop gives a heated verbal tongue lashing to entitled driver who clearly can't tell what lane he wants to be in. But the brain. Why does his say it's ok to break the law to see his own version of justice served, while other drivers (possibly including yours truly) see the faster moving lane and choose to follow it to the end where sane minds blend their cars seamlessly like a zipper? (Excluding, of course, those who feel that taking turns at a merge is akin to worshiping the devil and will spit their last breath trying to keep the rest of us out).

Scenario #2: frustrated voters reject a career liar for a career narcissist as our next president. Some of us vote for her. Some of us vote for him. Some of us vote for the next best option, neither one. Some brains feel it is ok to ignore decades of warning signs that indicate there is something brewing under the surface, so cold, so calculating, so inherently self serving, that an elevation to the highest post would mean the end of all life as we know it. While some brains feel it is ok to ignore decades of warning signs that the scum on the surface of the pond isn't just a transparent layer of filth, but an indication of a deep seeded inadequacy to hold higher office. While some brains still see the third option as an excuse to say "I didn't vote for either one." Group number one wakes up in the morning and seeks new ways to insult group number two. Group number two wakes up in the morning and ponders how to keep justifying their vote while thumbing their nose at group number one. And all the while group number three gets a good night sleep and buys tickets to the circus again that day, sitting back and laughing at the carnage created by groups one and two.

Yes I know the answer. It's how we were raised. Whether by our families, or by the streets, or by a culture. Some of our minds are molded from day one to conform to a reality that our way is the only way. While others are taught that it is ok to belong to one group, as long as you respected the ideals of others. And there is the word I was looking for. Respect. This is the bedrock of an inclusive and diverse society. But where is the respect these days? Certainly not from raging mobs of partisan citizens who see their side as the only one. And not from angry drivers who feel that their lane is the correct one to be in. Voters, politicians, and yes even drivers, there is no respect for an opinion that doesn't mirror our own. THAT will be the downfall of society. Not global warming. Not healthcare. Not even the devil himself Donald Trump.

Sunday, October 16, 2016

A Chicken in Every Pot!

There once was a time in this country when people were extremely naive. They believed what people told them, or sold them, because they had no way of discerning whether or not it was true. The day of the traveling salesman selling snake oil was nothing more than a few entrepreneurial men who saw an opportunity to make money on peoples suffering.
By the time the buyers realized that is was nothing more than a colored liquid placebo, the salesman was gone, on the the next batch of suckers. Word traveled very slowly back then, and a guy with cases of fake ointment or balm or vitalizer or cream or what have you could canvass the entire country without the rubes coming around to see the light. Generations have passed, the internet now connects the world in nanoseconds, yet the salesmen remain, spewing their bullshit to an audience lapping it up. We have learned nothing from the past.

A headline today says Hillary Clinton is in Florida to woo the millenials. Ah, the millenials, that group of young men and women that are the future of this country. They don't understand things that us old folk learned and grew up with. Like how to say thank you. Or hold the door open for someone. Or walk a little old lady across the street. Or look you in the eye. Or pay attention to history when it maters most. Yes, our presidential candidates are those very same salesmen, canvassing the country, peddling their snake oil to whole generation of voters who are eating it up like candy. (To those millenials who shun the "it's all about me" mantra and actually contribute to society, I apologize. To both of you.)

I have lived more than a half a century in this world, and I know a few invariable truths about elections. One of which is the fact that candidates will say and do and promise anything to get elected. To listen to someone in today's race and take them at their word is nothing more than buying a bottle of Dr. McGillicutty's Magic Elixer Tonic. But today's suckers are far more dangerous than those of the late 1800's. Because if you are buying what they are selling today, you have absolutely no excuse. A few clicks on a mouse should tell you everything you need to know about anyone.

So if Hillary is successful in wooing enough suckers to vote for someone that by all rights should not be running for president, then the days of the snake oil salesman is alive and well in the 21'st century. If you believe anything that comes out of a candidate's mouth during an election year, then you are truly stuck in the past. Live and learn. A simple motto lost on today's me generation of headphone wearing, Netflix binging, MTV watching, society shunning, self centered suckers. There is more at stake than here than simple self preservation. The future of our country is at stake. And the stakes have never been higher.

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

The Least I Can Do

The Guitarman's first political statement. Almost.

Saturday, June 4, 2016

In a galaxy, far, far away...

The universe. It's big, right? So big that it boggles the mind. What do you think of when you hear "the universe?" Planets far, far away? Black holes? Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock? Or maybe Captain Picard is your choice of Trekiness. All of the above for me. Almost, never got into the Star Trek Next Generation thingy. That is, actually, what I used to think. Now when I hear "the universe," it means something entirely different to me.

A couple of years ago, if you would have struck me up in conversation and said something along the lines of, oh I dunno, "...the universe made it happen," I would have been all like, "Umm, yea. And how many THC edible's did you consume today?" The concept of the universe being a living force (not EXACTLY like "The Force Be With You" kinda force) was fools folly. It was for the nut jobs and cranks. True believers of the notion that something other than what you can touch and see is real. More than likely I would have steered the conversation to something like, "How 'bout them Bears!" Today, as I live and breathe in our new dream house, I have a very different perspective indeed.

I have come to accept as reality a part of life that is hidden from 99% of the world. Most people believe in heaven and hell, God and Satan, good and evil. But most don't buy into the theory that some people are born with a gift to man. That they have an empathic ability to sense and differentiate between negative and positive energy, truth from fiction, living from dead. People that can speak with other people with their mind, living or dead. Medium, empath, clairvoyant, all names we assign to people with the gift, whether we believe or not. Well I am here to tell you that it is real, that there is no coincidence, only the universe, and what it has laid out for us. I am this/close to a person in my life who has opened up my eyes.

Whew! You kept reading, which means you are convinced I am a crank and want to see how nutty I really am, or that you, like me, know that all we say and do is linked by an unseen force of nature. The universe.

So where is that leading me? The story I want you to hear. The wife and I were looking for a new house. It was a long process, and we saw our share of dumps, rehabs, cottages, lake houses, ghost-ridden spaces, and outright tear-downs. So much so that we were beginning to think that we would never find the right place. Until we did. We had just sold our house, listed on a Friday, had a verbal agreement on Monday. And now we were under the gun to find a new home asap that wasn't horrible. With a tip from our agent we drove down a street that was like 5 miles from our old house, in a tiny community I had driven past a thousand times but never ventured into.

Had we just been transported to a fantasy island? We couldn't believe the quaintness of the neighborhood. Everything we wanted. Close to the wife's job, a lake, a forest preserve, seclusion, a place to ride bikes. As we pulled into the driveway I might have mentioned something like, " long as this place isn't about to collapse, this is it." One 5 minute tour of the house and we KNEW that this was where we wanted to spend the rest of our lives. I didn't even look in all the rooms. We left, called him back, and gave him an offer. 30 seconds later we had a deal, and the rest is history.

But, that is not the part of the story I want you to pay attention to. It was that night that I put out a post on FB, asking all to send positive vibes so that we could consummate the whole thing. Not in a "I need some luck so it can't hurt" kinda way, but more in a "I believe that if enough positive energy is thrown my way this will happen" kinda way. The response was overwhelming. So many friends shared their positive vibes I felt blessed to have such support. There were so many obstacles to overcome between a handshake and contract, it seemed like it wouldn't happen. But in the end, everything, and I mean EVERYTHING went our way. When we sold our house, we were afraid it wouldn't appraise. It did. The inspection did not go so well, but in the end we gave up nothing. The new house was at the high end of what we wanted to borrow, but we qualified. We were afraid the closing on the new place would force us to rent for a couple of weeks, but in the most stunning development, we found out at 9am the morning of the day we had to be out of the old house, that yes indeed miracles happened, and we would close that afternoon on the new place. Now I don't know how many of you have gone through this, but you usually know your closing day a month in advance. We found out 6 hours in advance.

Other stupid little details like getting the last truck at the Uhaul place, the sun shining on the day of the move though it had been dreary for days, helped fuel the notion that stars had aligned and someone was looking over us. You may not believe as I do, you may chalk it all up to coincidence, you may say the story is no story at all, but I believe. I believe that the power of positive intervention is real, and that all you need to do is believe yourself, and ask for help. And if you do, you may be surprised to find that help is on the way.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

God give me the strength to get through today.

Today is the dreaded day. You look on the calendar, and think to yourself at the time, "Just what in THE hell am I supposed to do then?" It seems so unfair, that we have to endure this week from hell. Yea, I should do some yard work. Or clean the garage. Or paint the downstairs. Or go grocery shopping. Or go fly a kite. All tantalizing options no doubt, and I will probably try and do some combination of all that, get that last round of golf in with Mrs. Guitarman, and still go to bed knowing the awful, awful truth: it's the Bears bye week.

If you feel my pain, then you are a die-hard like me. Blue and orange to the core. I still can't fathom that people are actually planning their day, doing stuff, living a normal life, all without sitting in front of their TV for 3 hours on a beautiful fall day. Sure the Cubs just ended their magical run, the defending Stanley Cup Champion Blackhawks have begun their title defense, even the Bulls have a subplot, with DRose coming to the court now looking like the Phantom of the Opera. And my Bears? Stumbling out of the gate with a new coaching staff, and, well hell, new everything, they managed a couple of miraculous wins. But here I sit, with us at 2-4, and all I can think about is that I can't wait for next Sunday at noon.

It is a sickness I know, and there is no cure. It's not like I want to be cured either. There is a little man inside me at all times, screaming at me. He is the eternal optimist, not me. He is the one that rips the sanity from the front of my mind and wipes his ass with it, not me. He is the one that gulps down the grape cool-aid every spring training like it was magic water from the fountain of youth, again, not me. If I could have one conversation with him, just one little TÊTE-À-TÊTE to clear the air, it might go a long way toward an ultimate cure. And it might go something like this:

LMIM: Game today.

GM: I know, might be a tough one.

LMIM: What you say? They got this! Just who the hell is Aaron Rodgers anyway?

GM: Um, the guy that has beat us the last like 100 games in a row?

LMIM: Pshaw! We can pick him off, sack his ass, break his other collarbone, and make his life a living hell! He will be wishing that he took up cricket instead!

GM: I dunno, I just feel he is going to pass for like a thousand yards to Jordy Nelson and hang a 5-0 on us.

(Sound of slapping)

LMIM: Wake up! Do you remember back in training camp when everybody said you can't take a 30+ year old defensive end and make him a stand-up outside linebacker?

GM: Um, do you mean Jared Allen?

(Sound of slapping again)

LMIM: Yes I mean Jared fucking Allen!

GM: But they were right, weren't they? And please stop slapping me.

LMIM: No they were wrong, the team gave up on him, besides we've got Pernell McPhee wreaking pure havoc now, that's all that matters.

GM: But Shea McClellin is still my field general out there. I am worried.

(Sound of slapping yet again)


GM: Wait, what? We're going to the Super Bowl?

Listen, I know what I got. I got Bears-itis. I don't have NFL-itis, or FanDuel-itis, I couldn't give two craps about all of the fantasy league stuff. I don't care if Tom Brady and Mr. Rodgers go head to head on MNF while wearing woman’s lingerie. I like my home teams. I follow them all. Well, not the White Sox. Never really sure why, but a lot of it has to do with Hawk Harrelson. But I love my Bears. On any given Sunday they say. So why can’t we have like 16 "On any given Sunday's", run the table, maim half of the Packers roster, and make it to the big dance? This could be the year. If I don't believe it, who will?

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Are you a Hatfield or a McCoy? Or neither, like me?

Why is it that every time I say to a liberal that Obama is a joke or Hillary is a harpy from hell do they immediately assume I am a right wing conspiricist that wants to outlaw abortion while bringing my assault rifle to service at the Westboro church? And why is it that when I say to a conservative that being gay is not a choice they tell me I am going to hell and assume I want to harvest the organs of unborn infants? To quote, and yes from some movie I have seen a dozen times, "Gray! The world is Gray Jack!" But if you pay attention during the election season, which is basically all the fricking time, that's not what the major candidates want you to believe.

Uttered by the Robert Ritter character in Clear and Present Danger, those words have fallen on deaf ears lately. It's the Hatfields and the McCoys out there kiddies, and neither side is willing to budge. I have found that for someone who tries to weigh the issues of both sides, who tries to not vote Republican or Democratic but vote for the best candidate, who has his own ideas that aren't represented by anyone, actually has no voice. I vote not for a candidate, but against one, picking the lesser of 2 evils. In my lifetime I have not rallied behind a candidate once for what he is for, but rather against what his opponent is for. Why is that? In a word politics. Politics is destroying our country.

No serious 3rd party candidate has had any chance at the White House since, hmm let me think here, Mr. Peabody get me in the WABAC machine, Ross Perot? One would have thought that in the early 90's a barrier had been broken, and the tide was turning on the monopoly of the two big parties. Little did we know that those mega fundraising machines would double down and make it impossible for anyone without a major party backing to have even a slim chance of getting elected. Is that doing our country any good? How has that worked out so far? The rich are getting richer, the poor are getting poorer, our jobs are disappearing, are youth are disengaged, and we can't even come to an agreement on how to stop lunatics from mass shootings at schools across the nation.

When Republicans scream "Benghazi!" at the Hillary backers are they fanning the flames and embellishing the facts? Of course they are! When Liberals cry about Republicans lining the pockets of and protecting millionaires are they being hypocritical? Of course they are! It's what they do. It's what they all do. Except maybe one, and time will tell. But one candidate has a message out there, one that is anti-establishment, and one that scares every other politician in Washington. The Devil has a name, and it is Bernie Sanders.

Bernie scares everyone in Washington because he dares to challenge the livelihood of every politician in the country, ie: their donors. Listen people, our government has us afraid of them. They use scare tactics to buy your vote, wasting millions, ahem excuse me, billions of dollars in an attempt to get into office so they they can spend the next 4 years paying those donors back and worrying about re-election. Pop quiz, who said, “People shouldn't be afraid of their government. Governments should be afraid of their people.” Well of course it's from a movie. I'll leave it to you to research if you care. But this government scares us into compliance by forcing us to vote for whatever candidate they force feed us. Barely half the country votes in our presidential elections. People don't care.

Look at this: 58 countries have higher turnout than the US. The list includes many countries whose governments are considered corrupt. Take Chad for instance. Human Rights Watch, has criticized the election process in Chad, arguing that they have problems such as electoral fraud, multiple voting, underage voting, and low voter turnout. In 2011, they had 57.9% of the people vote. They consider that low voter turnout, while we rejoiced when Obama was elected that we got 57.1% of the people to the polls. The bastion of free society can't muster enough of its citizens to overcome a third world nation dominated by one corrupt party? Why is that? Hmmm, maybe because they think that their vote won't matter? Or maybe because they are sick of the whole process? Maybe both? But back to Bernie.

Has anyone looked at his platform? How can anyone disagree with what he is fighting for? It's a laundry list of everything that makes sense to the average American:


I dare anyone to come up with a good reason why he shouldn't be our next president. Anyone, that is, that isn't already on the payroll. So go ahead and vote for Trump. Or Hillary. Or Jeb or Ted or Carly or Ben. See where it gets us. Nowhere, that's where. And if you think a Jew can't be president, than you are in the governments pocket and playing their game, just like they want you to.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Did I oversleep or something?

Rip Van Winkle has awoken from his long sleep. One year ago I decided that I could no longer rehash all of the days anger on the expressways into a tidy little column. I reached an Obama saturation point and had no ammo in my holster. I was fresh out of memories from my childhood. Our sports teams all sucked (the Blackhawks did come to the rescue there). There was a little upheaval in the GM's personal life which sapped a lot of juice out of him, and inspiration was fleeting. But today I stand (sit) here with a dose of fresh perspective, and a little chutzpah, though I am not Jewish. So where to point my sarcasm? Everywhere and nowhere. Yes the Guitarman returns to the blogosphere with a 5 in 5. (You expected any less?)

Republicans: Where else to start but the political arena? "And in this corner, wearing the red, white, and blue trunks, the man who puts the "I" in insult, Donald "The Intimidator" Trump!" And Jeb Bush. And Carly Fiorina. And like 2 dozen more career bullshitters politicians all with the same message. But Trumps message is different. He is the anti candidate. Instead of going by the Clinton handbook and telling everyone what they want to hear, he seeks out not just individuals but entire countries to insult. Are his ideas any good? Who knows? We can't get past his blustery, ego-inflating rants enough to find out. A president can't just piss people off on purpose. But what is the Republican field offering we independent voters as a choice? A black man that swears homosexuality is a choice and just insulted Islam, a woman who just got caught in a campaign lie, a bully Energizer Bunny, and about a dozen carbon copy rubber stampers that don't inspire anyone not sipping from the tea cup. And they won the Senate and House how?

Democrats: Obama was, is, and will be to me, the king bullshitter in all of American history. He made promise after promise that he never fulfilled. How he still won the Latino vote the second time around after he failed in his first 4 years to give them amnesty was a master con artist at his best. Oh, and I liked my insurance plan, didn't get to keep it. And how about that Nobel prize that was awarded to him for what he said he was going to do? Hasn't done it. But onto the current candidates. I am 90% sure I want Bernie Sanders as my next President. A Jewish friend told me a Jew can't win. Bullshit. If this country is stupid enough to fall for Obama's lies twice, is bigoted enough to put Trump in the lead of his party, all while half the country believes that some lying, flip-flopping, pandering, cheating, cover-up queen harpy from hell is a good choice to lead our nation, anyone can win.

Gay Marriage: Saints be praised, the good old U S of A has taken the final step in recognizing that love and equal rights shouldn't be exclusive to a select group of people. I still can't believe that the Supreme Court actually had the balls to take up the argument. But just as the LGBT community rejoices across the nation, some woman (who shall remain nameless as the mere sight of her sour puss or utterance of her name makes me regurgitate that sound that Montgomery Burns from the Simpsons made famous, hu-hu-hu-hu-hu) has to put her foot in the cake and declared that because of her faith she can't do it. I can't decide what makes me angrier. Jumping for joy like a Sweepstakes Clearinghouse winner after her lengthy 5 day stint in jail? Then going back to work and still holding up marriage licenses? Suing the state? Meeting the pope and lying about it? Her 15 minutes are up, somebody please put a muzzle on that dog before I puke. If she can't do her job, then quit. Just. Quit. Already.

Baseball: Being a lifelong Cubs fan has had it's ups and downs. Not like a swing with equal ups and downs, but more like the Giant Drop at Six Flags. Creeping up to the top every once in a millennium, and then crashing down in spectacular fashion while everyone goes "WHEEE!" But this is could be the year. And not just because it was predicted in Back to the Future 2. It has been quite a fun thing to see. BUT. The one game playoff is the stupidest thing Bud Selig has ever done. Dumber than the infamous shrug at the All-Star game that resulted in the first ever tie. More ridiculous than having the winner of said game dictate home field advantage for the World Series. Two teams that failed to win their division have a record that bests all other division winners in baseball. Its time to expand the playoffs to give deserving teams a real chance to move on. After 162 games, the Cubs and Pirates deserve a real chance to succeed. Not a winner take all game where the team with the best ace wins. Lets scrub the stain of the Selig years, and while we're at it, let Pete Rose into the Hall of Fame.

Life and Passing: I have lost two friends very recently. Life came to an early demise for both. I shed a few tears, and wondered if my time would be next. One died at 52, from colon cancer. He and I graduated high school together. I have yet to schedule a colonoscopy, and fear doing so. Not because I fear the results, but because you have to go all day without eating. My God I can't go 3 hours without eating! It might be better to die than to starve for a day. Not to mention having to sit on a toilet for 5 hours. But what I am really reflecting on is what they left this world. Both were wonderful, wonderful human beings, and great fathers. Not a disparaging word was uttered by a soul. How will people react to my death? What kind of legacy will I leave? What will people say about me at my funeral? Questions that haunt most human beings with a soul. But a little perspective has got me thinking. What can I do between now and then that will leave the world a better place than I found it? I intend to seek the answer to that question. But that doesn't necessarily mean I can't still poke fun at cheesehead drivers once in a while. I don't think many of them will be at my funeral anyway.

Sunday, August 3, 2014

On the road again....

Well I was drivin' down the road trying to loosen my load I got a world of trouble on my mind. Actually, to be blunt, a world of trouble on the road in front of me. My main goal every day as I get behind the wheel is to get from point A to point B, (with a quick layover at point C, where I discuss the possibility of Point D with person of interest A) as quickly as possible. Got that? Where was I. Driving. Yes, it is the bane of the Guitarman's existence. I have had enough. I want to sit in the back seat having a martini while my chauffeur drives me around like a peacock on parade. I want to wave my Grey Poupon at some unsuspecting soul on the sidewalk eating a hot dog. And it has nothing to do with me somehow being rich. I just don't want to drive anymore.

It all starts with one inevitable truth: something will piss me off today. And more times than not, it is someone in the left lane. Not just some clueless cell phone yacker, but some who suffers form SISRFAS. Yes, yes, I know, you see it too right? I mean one minute, you try and overtake them, and the next, they suddenly decide that they want to speed up and deny you your God Given Right to pass a slower vehicle. They can't be doing it on purpose, so it must be SISRFAS. (That's pronounced, as if I had to tell you, SISSER-FASS) Still confused? Sudden Involuntary Spasmodic Right Foot Acceleration Syndrome is nothing to laugh about. It afflicts a good 25% of the general population, which means about 75% of our friendly cheese curd loving, Packer backing friends to the north.

Think I am exaggerating? Think I am picking on a certain group? Quite possibly. But I will tell you this: be it the 8 lanes of the tollway, or a simple 2 lane back road, if I am overtaking a slower moving vehicle, and I see the license plate says WI, I punch it. It's like some innate sense of insecurity or pride or stubbornness or infallibility or hell I don't, maybe they just hate us, or me, that causes them to speed up just enough to force me to get behind their slow moving carcass. Is there something in the WI rules of the road that obliges them to hold off IL drivers at bay? Is there something that young mothers slip into their formula when they are babies? Were they abducted by IL hating aliens and forced to undergo cranial re-configuration? All of the above? No, no, it's SISRFAS. They don't know why they do it. Some don't even know they are doing it at all.

True story. Coming back from a Dells weekend long ago, in which a complete stranger on the street turned around and screamed "Bears suck!!!" at me for the vile offense of wearing a Bears t-shirt in the holiest of WI shrines, I had an encounter with a WI driver. 2 lane road. Late at night. 55mph speed limit being strictly adhered to by the driver in front of me. I, unwilling and unable to do the same, waited for a safe spot in which to pass. And as I did, we went from 55, to 65 to 75, and I to finally well over 80mph to finally overtake him. And of course, he immediately got right on my tail, stayed with me at my accelerated pace, long enough to pull up next to me at a light and scream vulgarities at me like I had just run over his mother. All for the hellish crime of not wanting to drive behind him at his pace.

Look, I am no angel. I am not the devil either. I refuse to be taken hostage by the current wave of clueless drivers that cannot follow simple unwritten rules. Driving for me now has become a daily struggle. Avoiding the idiots and assholes has become a futile endeavor. It's like driving through a forest of redwoods. They are everywhere. I should probably feel sorry for those afflicted by SISRFAS, as they have a disease and don't even know it. But I don't. I want to trade in my car for a tank, and squash them into road kill. Love your fellow man, yada, yada, yada. But what if your fellow man has some little insecurity that won't allow this fellow man to drive his car faster than them? Where is that in the bible? I am sure that if I got to ask God one question, it would be this: why won't drivers from WI let me pass them? And I am sure his answer would be something like, "Because the Bears suck!" Maybe the little image of Calvin urinating on a Packers helmet on the back of my van has a little to do with it. But they don't see that until they are sucking up my exhaust fumes. Where is that jar of Grey Poupon?

Thursday, June 12, 2014

Say it ain't so Melo.

I think I am going to puke.

Now before you assume I have launched into a new expose on bodily functions that involve smelly piles of goo, let me assure that is not my intention. But after reading what I did in the paper today, and then seeing it as Yahoo's number one story at that moment, I was sick. Rampaging murderous thugs and terrorists aside, it was the sports section that got me today. And I can sum it up in one word, Melo.

Who wasn't sick when the big 3 decided to amass together one of the finest teams ever bought? It didn't seem fair. When the Bulls had their run, they did it the old fashioned way: they drafted their team. Oh sure, there were the notable Bill Cartright and Dennis Rodman signings, but they were just pieces to the whole puzzle. No, we grew our own Big Three that won the first 3 Championships. Jordan, Grant, and Pippen were all true Bulls. But in today's market, it's all about the cheddar, and guys jump teams like rats jump a burning ship. And their sits the King, Lebron. The leagues best player that jilted his home team to form an All-Star team in Miami, and he isn't satisfied.

Just as I was beginning to believe that the Bulls now have a chance to compete by pursuing free agent Carmelo Anthony to play along with our home grown duo of Rose and Noah, it is being rumored that the Heat's stars are considering re-organizing their contracts to allow them to pursue Anthony. In the middle of the Championship, with back to back titles under their belt and a third on the way, they want more. And so, I think I am going to puke. If Anthony joins the 3 brats in Miami, he is a bigger sellout than they are. Where is the challenge in that? It will be like playing a college team every night. It will be a joke to the rest of the league.

I miss the days when you drafted your best players and they were good enough to win it all. It made it special. Walter Payton, Michael Jordan, Patrick Kane, Dan Hampton, Scottie Pippen, Jonathon Toews, Mike Singletary, Horace Grant, the list is long and proud. But will we ever get to see the names of Joakim Noah and Derek Rose reach that championship status? Are they good enough on their own? Maybe in a league where 4 rich assholes weren't allowed to decide the outcome of nearly 400 players.