You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em.

As a mature responsible adult, you try to make decisions that keep the delicate balance of sanity and pragmatism in check. The yin and the yang, the push-me pull-you of life. Not entirely convinced that I have finally achieved mature responsible adult status as I approach the big five-oh, I constantly struggle with day to day decisions that effect my ability to finally become an actual grown-up. Is it okay to wear to un-matching socks as long as your pants cover them up? Is it okay to roll through that stop sign as long as a cop isn't watching? Or is it okay to to pour beer into your cereal when you are out of milk? I know a friend who struggles with that last one on a daily basis. But I had to make a decision lately, one that would not just affect my "grown up kid" status, but one that could have actual ramifications for the future of my family. Do I quit my job, with it's steady, if not unreliable paycheck? Or do I stay, and compromise my morals, and future?

"Well, how bad could it be?" I hear you asking. Umm, in a word, bad. I found myself coming home daily, and when I say daily, I mean every single frickin' day, with tales of woe, that I would drape around my poor wife's neck like a anchor from the USS Ronald Reagan. My boss said this, my boss did that, he talked to me like I was a second grader, he asked me to lie about this, to turn a blind eye to that. It went on and on and on. And we're not talking about forgetting to sharpen a pencil or politely say hello to the harpy from hell that he just hired to run our company into the ground. Stuff that made me look like an asshole to our customers. To our vendors. And to our sub-contractors. Stuff that could have potentially life damaging consequences. But I am not going to get into the grimy little details of every little thing that turned my original vision of my boss as a savvy, cool-headed businessman, into one of a clueless, unethical liar.

I will share one intimate detail with you. Or maybe two. Yea, let's go with two. One of the first times I thought about finally quitting, was a moment that I am sure he doesn't even have the slightest memory of. One that stabbed me to my core, and one that he laughed off as another day in the office. It was like the first couple of weeks after the harpy from hell had walked into our little slice of heaven. I had questioned the ethical ramifications of a certain way we were doing business, and after he explained that this was the way people did business, the harpy said, "That's right I forgot. He (The Guitarman) has morals." And with that, they both shared a brief chuckle together. Not a laugh. Not a guffaw. Not even a chortle. Just the briefest of subtle insults to who I was and what I believed in. As I walked out of the office I thought to myself, "Are you fucking kidding me? I have been here two and a half years, and he and this snot nosed little brat find this funny?" It's one thing to have to put up with crap that you find morally objectionable. It's something else when a man you once respected, that signs your paychecks, mocks you for your beliefs.

Aside from my daily tales from the dark side that I struggled constantly with, the other thing that really turned me off was what I liked to call "the talk." Like your dad sitting you down and telling you how you messed up. Like being in the principals office and getting a slap on the wrist. Whenever I said something that he didn't agree with, I got "the talk." Whenever I made a suggestion that was in the best interest of the company, I got "the talk." If he didn't agree with me, out came "the talk." And no matter what my suggestion was, or how much it would improve efficiency, or how much money it saved the company, it would always end with some variation of, "Well, when you own your own company you can run it the way you want. But this is my company, and I will run it the way I want."

Well, he is free to do just that now. Without my interference. Without my suggestions. And without my help in any way shape or form. I will end the speculation for y'all. I finally had enough, and I quit. With no sure job to provide for my family, I finally said enough was enough, and I walked. I made the decision I had been dreading for months, and it was one I didn't think myself capable of making. A right decision based on principle, not paycheck. I really didn't think I had it in me, and I surprised even myself. But the final straw came just a week or so ago, when I had one too many of "the talks." I had pointed out an error the sales team had made, and in doing my diligence, maybe saved the company thousands of dollars from ordering and installing a key component in two upcoming jobs. Was I thanked for my discovery? Was I lauded for saving the company money? Umm, neither. Instead, I got, "the talk." You see, the harpy from hell, as she is so good at, went crying to the boss that I was questioning her vast cache of knowledge, an accumulation of 25 years on this planet. I was talked to like I was a little kid, and told not to lash out at everyone. In that one moment of clarity, that instance of "you've-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me," my decision was made. It may prove to be the wisest thing I have ever done, or the stupidest. But I couldn't live with who I was becoming there, and to quote the timeless Jimmy Cliff, "I'd rather be a free man in my grave, than living as a puppet or a slave." At least I'll sleep better at night.

Penny for your thoughts?

So if you know me, and most of you don't, then you know I read the Chicago Sun Times more or less cover to cover every day. More or less meaning I don't pay any attention to the ads. And the classifieds. And the obituaries, money section, business section, any special sections, articles that don't interest me, and anything by the Reverend Jesse Jackson. But I do read the rest. It's here that I get my daily dander up, or chuckle a few chuckles, or scratch my head and say, WTF?!? Today is no exception. I usually try and conjure up some deep thought, and pretend for 15 minutes that my option matters. But in the end, it is all just a release from the daily realities of life, mostly my stress from a job I love all while working for a boss that I can't respect and a company that is in shambles. But that is all going bye-bye now, as I decided that my semi-secure paycheck wasn't worth compromising my morals. So today, no serious expose. Just a bunch of not-so-light randomness. Penny for your thoughts?

JJJ is going down in flames. I called it. Waaay back when Blago was being busted, I called it. When he flew his mistress here from DC on campaign funds, I called it. When he and his wife remodeled their DC condo with those same funds, I called it. And when he knew he was going down, and his bi-polar depression BS was being shopped to the media, and he won a campaign re-election despite being in a nut house at the time, I called it. Now he is going to jail, soon to be followed by his wife, and the kids will be raised the morally upstanding, aforementioned Reverend Jesse Jackson. You know, the one that was having an affair at the same time he was counseling President Clinton on the Lewinsky scandal? Well, it looks like he did a bang up job of raising his own son, and I am sure the grandkids will just be more apples falling from the same tree.

Vicente Garcia led the most brutal gang in Chicago, the Latin Kings, overseeing 10,000 fatherless thugs, and ordering killings with the shrug of the shoulders like most of us would order coffee at Starbucks. How brutal was he? The "Supreme Regional Inca" once punished one of his own, the leader of the Cicero faction of the Latin Kings, for not killing a rival fast enough. But he going away for a long time now, and in court he was crying like a baby, all of a sudden finding his moral compass, saying he had a “broken heart and a broken spirit” and apologized “to the communities that have been affected by gang violence” and “to those people who lost family members and loved ones through my actions.” Dude. Too little too late. Maybe if you had listened to your parents when growing up you wouldn't be heading to jail for 40 years.

But then, listening to your parents might not always be in your own best interests. Especially when you are Xenia Jaimes and your parents help you to kidnap your ex-boyfriend fuck-buddy, bind him with duct tape, beat him with a pipe and crutch, photograph his half-naked body, and threaten to kill him, probably in that order. His crime? He was allowed to take nude photos of her, with her permission, and was the benefit of a strip tease on a web cam. Poor Xenia didn't want those images all over the internet, so she figured she had to be pro-active by beating the crap out of him. Hey dumb-ass, maybe go to your parents FIRST next time and maybe they would tell you that it's probably not a good idea to strip in front of a web cam. Unless you are a porn star. Then again, maybe talking to the parents might not have been a good idea either.

I will close with one that screams "you've got to be kidding me" from the top of Mt. Rainier. The Amish community has been under siege recently in Cleveland from a series of bizarre hair and beard cutting attacks. Who would want to harm the poor Amish? Their only possible crime would be that they drive too slow in their horse drawn buggies. But cutting off their beards and hair? That's just bizarre. But they got the ringleader, and guess what. He is one of them.

And his name is Sam Mullet Sr., with one of the ZZ Top beards of his own. Have I got this straight? A guy with the name "Mullet" is cutting off other peoples hair? You just can't make shit up like this.

Lessons from the Super Bowl

Now that was a Super Bowl! One team way out in front, other one comes storming back, game still on the line with under 2 minutes to play, scantily clad women for the

halftime show, (albeit there were no wardrobe malfunctions), had a team to actually root for as I hate all things Harbaugh (actually not all things, hate Jim, like John), was just a little better than a scratch on the pool (paid $50 to win $60, Vegas here I come baby!), and had so much food I think I won't have to eat until Super Bowl XLVIII. But just as in life, there were many lessons to be learned from watching. And, so it goes, I bring you a Superbowl themed 5 in 5.

Beyonce: Have to start with the blow out extravaganza that was the halftime show. Now I know there are certain things one looks for when assessing a good halftime show. 1. The music. She is at the top of her profession with a fabulous voice, and though I am not into her genre, I have to admit she did not let down there. Even thought I didn't recognize 2 seconds of anything she sang last night, and was pining for Tom Petty to sneak out and drop it down a notch, all the while wondering who this Destiny was and what her child had to do with anything, I couldn't stop watching. 2. The Performance. The routines were not only superb, but the timing was unbelievable. They must've rehearsed that more times than days in a year. 3. The bombast. I'd give it a solid 9. Only comparing what we witnessed to say, oh the opening ceremonies at the Olympics, was it lacking at all. No I think she nailed it, and even though I kept trying to bring up the lip-syncing angle, I was shot down to a man. Give me some good old classic rock, and I'm happy. But at least it wasn't a disaster like the Black Eyed Peas 2 years ago. Lesson: Big is better, less is more. As in spectacle and clothing, respectively.

Harbaughs: Never knew much about John Harbaugh before this game. NFC Bears don't play the Ravens often enough, so I can only read what I read. Came away with the impression he is a calm, smart, disciplined leader. Don't know who molded him, but it seemed to work. Jim, on the other hand, is the yang to John's yin. Granted, during his playing days, he had to deal with a fiery Mike Ditka at one point, but if Ditka was a yeller, then John is a wailing banshee. Saw a few 49's games this year, and I don't think I can remember a game when the spit wasn't spraying, the headphones weren't spinning off towards the 45 yard line, and he wasn't jumping up and down like a spoiled baby. There is fire, and then there is fire. A friend asked me if I preferred Lovie Smith's deadpan demeanor. Well, isn't there something in between a dead rock and an M-80? Um, yea there is. In Baltimore. Lesson: Act like you've been there before.

Commercials: There could be a whole 5 in 5 within the 5 in 5 here, but I will condense so you don't close the page. Always looked forward to the commercials, but this year...hmmmm. Wasn't it a bit of a dud? I mean, a few okay ones, but nothing magnifico. I always love the eTrade baby. He gets me every time. The Dorito crazed goat. Kinda cute. The gross Go Daddy spot was funny. Once. There seems to be no end of hot chics who love M & M's. Baby's really do come from outer space? I thought so, that would explain a few things. Like I said, a few chuckles, but mostly just "...eh." I was waiting for that iconic spot, where you would either laugh your brains out, or, well, laugh your brains out. They did succeed in one area though. You never knew what any of them were for until the last few seconds. Lesson: 4 million dollars is chump change to waaaay too many people.

The Game: There have been some clunkers over the years, but Super Bowl XLVII was a great game that had it all. And it also proved a lot of things. Like the hype can't actually overshadow what happens on the field. That you don't need a superstar quarterback to win the big one (yea, Flacco and Kapernik may make headlines for years, but when the year started, it was all Manning this and Rodgers that, blah, blah, blah). That 2 brothers can grow up to do do the exact same thing and reach the pinnacle of their profession and still be 2 completely different people. That a man who is widely considered to be the best at his position in the history of the game is still overshadowed by a personal transgression in the defining moment of his career. That the same man with means and a name can buy the silence of another in exchange for his freedom. Lesson: On any given Sunday, any team, and anyone, can win.

Amusement: So I had a few friends over for the game. Yea, wanted to really show off the 50" plasma and surround sound (the sound of that nerd kissing the model will echo in my head forever). Had out a big spread, a few cold ones, some wine, the works. Biggest TV day of the year, biggest sporting event of the year, most expensive commercials of the year, and what was everyone watching in my house? The cats. They were hovering around the console all night, sniffing all around, darting in and out, tails wagging...then it hit me. There was a mouse under the TV. At half time the little bugger peaked his head out, saw the fur and claws, and scurried back under. But there was no denying the cats. Soon enough, Bella came out with the little guy in her mouth, someone yelled "We got some action!", and as one dude, yes guy, jumped up on his chair, we all took in the spectacle of nature sorting itself out. Only it was in my living room. I tossed the poor bugger into the snowy February tundra beyond my back yard. It was, by far, the highlight of the evening. I didn't have to drop a bunch of money on food, and clean up and cook for a day. Next time I'll toss a couple of chipmunks into the living room and charge admission. Lesson: People are easily amused. Despite the $4,000,000 commercials.