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.

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?

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.

Let's clear the air.

You ever hear, or utter for that matter, the phrase, "...he walks around like his shit don't stink?" Not to be taken literally, it does not assume the offender parades around with poop stained undies, but rather possesses an air of indifference that exudes, "I am better then you." But we all know that everyone's poop does stink. Some more than others, and at times, an adventurous dinner choice can leave one with enough gas and foul smelling detritus to make his or her presence felt in ways that it shouldn't. It might be even glamorous now to have stinky crap. Ever see the commercial for Poo-Pouri, with the hot Brit gal telling us about the motherlode she just dropped? Cracked me up. But dear readers I am here to inform you that yes, my shit stinks.

It's not that I go around crop dusting everyone in my general vicinity with built up noxious fumes all the time. I do on occasion, but that is not the point today. And it's not like I am some un-trained puppy leaving piles around the house because someone won't open the door in time. I use the lavatory for it's intended purpose: to dispose of my bodily excrement. Oh sure, there are plenty of other fine uses for the bathroom. To take a bath for instance, hence the name "bath" room. Or brushing ones teeth. Or combing one's hair. Or using makeup, hair gel, athletes foot spray, toe nail fungus remover, band-aids, nail polish remover, under arm deodorant, shaving cream, cake frosting, or whip cream. Hey, to each his own. But each of those uses CAN be done in the loo whereas the former HAS to be done there. It's not like I have some other option, wooded lot behind me with a pile of leaves not withstanding.

No, a mans home is his castle they say, and every castle has it's throne. And any good king sits on his throne once a day at his given time, dispensing his kingly duties. My time is every morning after a cup of coffee, somewhere in the business section of the paper. I am predictable, as much for the timing of the event as the odor that accompanies it. So it is with a dose of sincerity that I offer my humblest apology to anyone who has been offended my being human in the area of bodily waste. I will make every effort to quash the offending aromas with whatever means are available. Be it a ceiling fan, air freshener, a bottle of Poo-Pouri, a candle, or even an industrial sized laboratory chemical fume hood should I ever feel the need to relieve myself in a chem lab. But it's just me being human. Here's hoping the shit doesn't hit the fan.

Legal or not, this storm is a brewin'.

Fear. It's what drives society. It's the reason we bubble wrap our kids as they hop on a bike, or strap on a pair of rolllerblades. It's why homosexuals have stayed in the closet for so long, and why homophobes are crying foul now that the nation is coming around to acceptance and equality. It's also why bomb toting lunatics are hell bent on destroying the world around them. And for sure, it's why the war on drugs, a failed war if there ever was one, was ever launched in the first place. But there is another battle looming in that war, and nobody has done a damn thing about it.

True story, happened last week. A local delivery driver had a terrible accident and struck and killed an 81 year old pedestrian as she crossed the street. As horrible as it is for both family's involved, it's about to get a whole lot worse for one. The victims family is dealing with the sudden loss of their elderly matriarch, and while the driver will undoubtedly feel the pain for the rest of his life for accidentally taking the life of another, he will probably spend a good chunk of that life behind bars. As is normal in an accidental death related to driving a vehicle, his blood was checked. And knowing what they would find, he admitted to the police that yes he had smoked marijuana the night before. And of course, his life is over.

Lets change a couple of words there and imagine the outcome. "...he admitted to the police that yes he had smoked marijuana a couple of beers the night before." As we all know, you can drink and drink and drink, and drink some more, sleep it off, wake up the next morning, and legally drive anywhere you want. Hangover aside, one's judgement is unimpaired in the eyes of the law. But those same eyes, due to the nations war on all drugs, look at the guy that smoked pot the night before, and will charge him with felony aggravated DUI. For all of you who do not know, THC, the part of marijuana that gives you a high, stays in the body for a long time. The high will wear off in a few hours, just as alcohol will do, but the damning residue remains. There is no way of actually testing a person to see if they are high at any one given moment.

Now I know what most of you are thinking: But pot is illegal! Well you are kinda right. Here in Illinois, we are set to legalize it for medical reasons. Just like 19 other states, we are slowing winding the drug war down. But therein lies the rub. If we are legally saying that it is ok to ingest it, what are we gonna do when that person gets behind the wheel of a car? The poor schlep mentioned above actually drives for a living. Would you be any more/less sympathetic if this was next year, and he was prescribed marijuana by a doctor? More importantly, would the law? Approximately 2.5 million people legally smoke marijuana right now in this country. My guess is that they all drive. What are we going to do about that?

This isn't the first time this has happened, and for sure it won't be the last. Maybe we can find a way to test for it. Maybe put a tray of brownies in front of a person and see how many they eat. Maybe tell them a bad joke and see how long they laugh. "Yes your honor, the defendant endlessly giggled like a school girl when told the joke about the chicken crossing the road, all the while stuffing his face full of brownies. He only stopped when we took the plate away." But seriously, someday, somewhere out there, an elderly grandma with Glaucoma will take her doctors advise and smoke some pot to alleviate her symptoms, get in the car to go to church the next morning, have an accident, and get thrown in jail with the dregs of society. Won't that make a snappy headline. POTHEAD GRANNY MOWS DOWN INNOCENT BYSTANDER WHILE HIGH ON DRUGS. I'm sure some politician will use that to get elected.

A wink is as good as a nod to a blind man.

"Period." It means end of discussion. No point in carrying on. When someone tells you that "it's gonna be this way, period," you get the impression that he means it. But I am one of the five per cent-ers that got screwed by the presidents declaration that if "you like your current health plan, you can keep it." And don't forget the "Period." So I am mad. Hopping mad that my premiums will almost double. But my anger, where is it really aimed?

I have listened to plenty of friends, PLENTY, call Obama the "worst president ever." I think you are forgetting a few faces to boldly make that claim, but it is a predictable Republican reaction to having listened to eight years of Bush bashing by the liberals and how badly he failed us. I used to share an office space with a guy that would run to the trading floor at the CBOT to do a live interview with CNBC every week. Financial genius. He HATED Obama. Every day I would sit rapt as he countlessly listed one reason after another that he would be the ruin of us. But for me, my anger does not stem from financial or even social reasons.

The man that ran for the presidency in 2008 was a salesman. Still is. And he sold us his bullshit and we bought it. Twice. He took the Clinton handbook on how to win an election and did it better than the Clintons. We elected this guy because he figured out how to win the presidency based on his charm and oration skills. He didn't have a damn clue on what to do once he got in there. It is the system that gave us this failure, and it is broken so that no person can win without the money and support of one of the major parties. I fully believe that corruption in campaign finance is the biggest threat to democracy this country has ever faced.

Here's an idea. Take the top 20 people in America with a vision for the presidency, that are NOT chained to either major party, and stick them on a television show, and let them debate each other, voted off one by one until you had a candidate that America could get behind. He would have such name recognition, he wouldn't need the untold millions wasted on elections to compete.



But back to me being angry. I'm angry that Obama lied to my face. But then again, they all do it. "I did not have relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky," and "I am not a crook," jump to mind. Reagan lied about arms for hostages, Bush said "Read my lips: no new taxes, " then taxed us. But generally in the history of presidential liars, most did not have the intention of directly lying to the American public for political gain to win an election. Bwaa haa haa! Riiight. Ok maybe they all stretch the truth to a certain degree while itching to get into office, but this one directly and personally affects me. So I am mad. They all say they are gonna do this or that once in office, and no one can ever live up to all that. But this time, it was the salesman at his finest. We are the emperor, and we have no clothes. Got this one from a Monty Python skit, "A wink is as good as a nod to a blind man." We thought we saw the nod, but we were too blind to see he was just winking at us.

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign.

"Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?"

-Five Man Electrical Band

Never really got into that song so much as some of my older brethren, as I was a mere 7 when the song was released. I was neither a protester nor a rebel-rouser, so the lyrics did not resonate within my soul enough to get me to march naked on the steps of the nations capital in response to the overbearing rules the government was forcing upon us. It does have a killer intro though. But every time I see some ridiculous sign on the road, I do mockingly sing along to the chorus. As was the case in the pristine city of Lake Forest, IL.

LF is unique in the world. At least it likes to think itself is. In my recollection, every since that infamous day back in 1987 when respected Lake Forest resident Laurence Tureaud decided that his property was actually his and he could landscape it the way he wanted, the city decided that it knew what was better for it's citizens than the actual citizens did. Hmmm, not ringing a bell? Perhaps if I mentioned that Mr. Tureaud is more famously known as Mr. T would that shake loose the cobwebs? So LF passed an ordinance that forbid city residents from chopping down trees on their own property without approval from the city. Now I actually thought at the time that was a good thing, saving trees and all. But unfortunately it opened it a Pandoras box that would pave the way for the city to declare war on it's own citizens.

Wow, that's harsh. OK, maybe I have gone a little too far off of the deep end. But growing up next to LF and in turn driving through it's city limits, I have made a few recent observations. And yes, it's all about the signs. And yes, they are everywhere, telling you what you can and can't do if you want the pleasure of passing through this pleasant little burough. So, here are a few of my favorites:

No Parking: Oh sure, seems innocent enough. Most towns have them here and there to prevent a build up of parked cars that might hinder traffic flow. But when you consider that once you go east of McKinley, the main N/S hub that cuts through downtown, you can't park anywhere. Now is it because they want to keep the streets clear of overcrowding? No. They are there for one reason: LF has no parking at the lakefront, and if you are not a resident, they do NOT want you using their pristine shoreline. Go ahead and park anywhere you want west of McKinley, and hike .92 the miles to the beach with all your crap. Sounds so inviting.

No Parking Anywhere between 3am and 5am: It's bad enough we can't go to the beach. But God forbid you go to a party, park on the street, have one to many shots of Petron, lose your clothes, and have to crash naked on your friends couch. (This may or may not have happened at one point in the GM's past) I guess the city would rather have you drive home drunk. Or just maybe they don't want you here at all. Nahhh.

Hand Held Cell Phone Use Prohibited Here I go again. Forget all of the people who eat, put on makeup, read the newspaper, fluff their hair, shave, reach into the back to give Jr. a bag of Goldfish, or whatever crazy antic takes a hand off of the wheel and diverts their attention to something other than diving which includes texting and surfing all of those apps. But alas, it appears that as much as I want to take a flame thrower to all of those signs, it is soon to become Illinois law. I guess they were ahead of the curve on this one. But jeez, I get the hint. At every single point of entry to the town you are greeted with one of these. Every time you turn onto a new road, whoop there it is. Overkill? Nahhh.

Ride Bicycles on the Sidewalk: Or some variation of that on Green Bay Road. But isn't a side-walk just that? For walking? Wouldn't they be called side-rides if they were meant for bikes? What about the "Share the Road" program? Only in your town but not ours? But I'll bet the first time some lunatic on 2 wheels knocks over some nanny pushing her Stokke Crusi Stroller, retailing at $1249.99, heads will roll.

No engine idling. Children are breathing: I had to save this one for last. I actually laughed out loud when I saw this one. This is an actual sign seen on the premises of Lake Forest Country Day School. As if letting your car run in idle while picking up the pups is going to cause them to develop emphysema. As if the lungs of the precious elite that have enough $ to go to the ritzy school are more precious than those who are forced into the public school system. If there is a more ridiculous sign, I want to see it.

With all due apologies to the city council of Lake Forest, sometimes you gotta just blow off a little steam. And if I missed one, please tell me about it. As a matter of fact, I want to hear about the most ridiculous sign you have ever seen. And if it was in Lake Forest, I really want to hear about it.

To ban or not to ban.

There is a looming crisis building in this country. No and I am not talking about the fact that the dollar is on it's last legs as the worlds currency, meaning if you thought the 2008 recession was bad, hold on for the ride of your life when that happens. And I am not talking about the fire and brimstone that will fall from the sky when gay marriage becomes a federal law. Nor am I referring to the fact that 1 in 7 Americans are on food stamps, or that the national employment rate of around 8% is probably closer to 14% when you throw in the people the government doesn't count when it spits out it's numbers every month, (ie only the ones no longer receiving unemployment because their 18 months of checks have run out). Although those are all crises in their own right, I am talking about another bit of government intrusion into our lives: the hand held cell phone ban while driving.

Of course, 69% of you just either closed the browser window or scoffed perturbedly at my blasphemy. That is the percentage of a recent poll that favored the ban. Well I guess you can put me solidly in the other 31%. I cringe when I see one of these signs. I believe the attack on my right to not be a distracted idiot while I drive is fueled by political motives rather than concern for driver safety. Let me throw a stat at you from a study of all "distracted driver" accidents. A mere 1.5% was from using a cell phone. And to clear the air, talking on a phone with one hand on the wheel while staring at the road in front of you has nothing in common with texting while driving, which takes one's eyes off the road for periods of up to 5 seconds.

But what of those "distracted driver" accidents? If only 1.5% was using on a cell phone, what about the other 98.5%? Well guess what I did this week. I looked at other drivers and what they were doing on the expressway. Taking my eyes off of the road, shame on me, but it was the only way to gather first hand evidence. Throwing in some personal past experiences, this is what I observed.

A guy picking his teeth. Eyes on the road, but, gasp, only one hand on the wheel. I give him 1%.

Some dude flipping through his apps. Ok, this falls into the "cell phone" category, but he wasn't talking nor texting. His was surfing with his eyes on his device. He gets 4%.

A dude scratching his head and rubbing his face. Tired? Probably trying to wake up/stay awake, BUT, that dreaded one hand on the wheel, and at least one eye on the road. 3% for driving tired.

A woman putting on makeup. Or women. This is the all time leader for observations in driving to Chicago every day for 20 years. Eyes, lips, cheeks, hair, eyebrows, the list is endless. All while staring into the mirror on the visor, which is further blocking their vision. They get a generous 11%.

The executive reading the paper. No, not in the back seat while the chauffeur drives him. I saw a guy off and on with the paper draped over the wheel, and reading glasses pinched on his nose. A solid 5% go to the readers.

Everybody eating. And I mean everybody eating everything. Generally, not too horrible of an offense, eyes are only for a second staring into the sauerkraut on the dog as you take a bite, one hand firmly on the wheel, at least before you grab the wheel with your knees so your free hand can pick up the sport pepper that just fell onto the floor mat. But eaters are guilty non the less, they get 4%.

Watching television. As scary as it is to imagine someone watching a movie while they drive, which alone would give them a good 15%, this is a true story. One day downtown, I asked a dude, whom we will call Carlo, if he could give me a ride home. We both live in the same town, 40 miles north. He agreed, and picked me up in front of the building. He darted out into traffic and headed to the expressway all while doing the following simultaneously: driving, hooking up a DVD player to his car stereo, and eating his late lunch. Not a sandwich or a dog, but a plate of lemon chicken from a Chinese place. I did offer to drive, but he politely told me he does this every day. All by his little lonesome, he gets 25%.

Well I am not going to add all that up, but I can tell you it's not 100%. Which brings me to my point. We can't possibly know or control all of the stupid things people will do while driving. Unless one of them has potential voter influence, then its full speed ahead, ramming yet another regulation up the rear ends of the rest of us who feel we are intelligent enough to make our own decisions. Politicians blow with the wind, and will back whatever gives them the best chance for re-election.

"Just get a Bluetooth!" you must be screaming from the boonies. Well I don't want to stick that thing in my ear. I can drive just fine with one hand. And therein lies the rub. If the argument is that you are distracted by talking on the phone, then the law should include a ban on lipstick, newspapers and Chinese food as well. But by saying "hands free" then the argument becomes that you need two hands on the wheel. And if that is the case, then I want a new driving test where I get a special designation proving I can drive with one hand better than some can drive with two. It's not the hands, it's not the distraction, it's the person.

A lost cause.

Laaazzzyyy. That pretty much sums up my lack of ambition to pen, er, type anything meaningful. Oh sure, the world hasn't stopped turning, the ozone layer hasn't been completely destroyed, and President Obama is still the worst president in history. (OK I stole that line) Somethings just won't, or can't change. Like in Chicago. Kids are still dying, the mayor is still spending the city's money like he's on vacation in Disney World, and the weather is as unpredictable as what Sarah Palin will say next. What can we do about it? The weather, nothing. The mayor, don't vote for him next time, which basically means, nothing. And the kids getting killed? Apparently nothing either.

"That's a defeatist attitude!" I hear you shrieking. Maybe so, but what can be done about that? Take all of the guns away and melt them down into a statue of former Mayor Daley signing away Chicago’s parking meters for a bag of beans? Close all of the schools, lock all the kids in the homes and demand every Chicago parent home school their kids? Send in the National Guard to shoot first and ask questions at the next funeral? Well let me ask you this: what chance do these kids have when the parents at best are failing their kids through un-involvement, and at worst actually leading them to a life of crime? Take these two recent examples. Two stories on the same day, printed side by side in the newspaper.

In the first, a Chicago woman has a traffic altercation with a Chicago cop, which results in the woman attacking the female officer and dragging her with her own car. Worse yet, the woman’s two children were in the back. Worse even still, the older child, all of 8 years, joined in and beat the officer over the head. An eight year old beating up a cop. Can you make this shit up? And where did she get that idea? On TV? Or just maybe, kids emulate their parents. If mommy says cops are bad than it must be true.

The second, two neighbors in the city get into an argument. Woman #1 decides she’s had enough, and walks away. Inside her apartment, she hears woman #2 continue the verbal tirade when a brick comes through her window. She phones her 28 year old son who comes to her rescue. But woman #1 has her own son, 26, at the scene. So an argument over a traffic altercation turns into a deadly encounter when the son of woman #2 runs his car into the son of woman #1. She lost her offspring because another person could not live with the fact that she lost an argument. At what point did the killer think, “It is acceptable to kill another human being because my mom was disrespected?” Gee, where did he ever get that idea.

Look, I get it. I get it that I don’t get it. I am a suburban boy who has not walked a mile in their shoes. I do not know what life is like dodging bullets on a playground. I do not know what life is like when parents don’t care about the child there are raising. I do not know what it is like to be homeless. What I do know, is that kids are like parrots. They emulate what is around them. They look to their moms and dads for guidance through life. And when that guidance is leading them down a path of self-destruction, what chance do they have in life? None. But the worst part? What today's kids learn from their parents will be passed down to the next generation. How do you stop that?

The rite of spring.

Ahhh, it's finally springtime. Is that one word or two? And is it really spring? Let's look out the window shall we? Rain? Check. Winds knocking over trees? Double check. Teperature hovering in the 40's? Triple check. Cubs already mathematically eliminated from the playoffs? Eternal check. Welcome to April in the Chicago metropolitan area. No sunshine, no warmth, no winning north side baseball. It's a tradition as old as I can remember. The other day when it was mildly pleasent, meaning I wasn't getting soaked and actually was in the back yard without my parka, I put out the bird seed. I hung my hummingbird feeder with extra sweet nectar for the spring. I even put out a cob of feed corn for the encroaching squirrel army. Ahh the sqirrels. As with any rite of spring, so goes my ongoing backyard fued with the twitching tailed vermin.

I thought I had him this time. Even though a scant few hours had passed since the corn was put up as a deterrent to keep the bird niblets safe, it was depleted none-the-less. And atop my pole feeder he sat, munching away, oblivious to my evil stares. So I stalked out there, waving and shouting, and watched him scurry away to the safety of his tree branch. "I've got to do something," I thought to myself. I knew that there were semi-expensive anti-squirrel devices available at the hardware store, but that wasn't going to happen. So I did the next best thing: I made one.

My first efforts at protecting the hanging feeder last year were actually successful. Even though weather had forced the one time flat piece of veneer that was my vermin deterrent into a bendy shape, it still did the job. He couldn't leap from a close branch, he couldn't jump that high off of the ground, and I would watch in glee as he slid off of the thing time and time again. But, the garage was now empty of all pieces of veneer, and a substitute was in order for the pole feeder. So I settled on a piece of cardboard. Yes I knew that the Chicago "spring" would turn my ingenious invention into a mushy pile of corregated fibers withing hours, but I wanted to see the bastard just try and get to the top.

I retreated to the safety of the dining room, poured a cup of coffe, and waited for him to come back. And waited. And waited. 2 crossword puzzles later, there was still no squirrel. I peeked out at the corners of my yard, only to see that he was perched atop the fence, in the far corners of the yard, staring back at me. It was go time.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I pleaded. His reply? "Mother nature."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" I pondered. I myself knew what he meant, but he was a dumb fucking squirrel.

"You see," he explained, "this is spring. It will rain. I am content to sit here and let the last remainder of my stored winter fat fuel my body while I wait for the weather to turn that piece of flimsy cardboard into pulp. When that finally happens, I will resume my dining at the buffet table that you refer to as the bird feeder."

I was taken aback. His english had become very good. His manners had improved, and he was actually showing remarkable restraint, poise, and awareness. Now I am not one to take to violence to solve my problems, and probably should have just taken the damn thing down. But my inner caveman took over as I picked up a rock and threw it at him. I missed of course, not before wildly shrieking "COMMUNIST BLOOD SUCKING BUCK-TOOTHED HELLHOUND!!" or something vaguely along those lines. As he scrurried away, I could hear his maniacal laughter mocking me. "What are you gonna do now, big brain?" he taunted.

"What now? Let me tell you what now. I'ma call a coupla hard, pipe-hittin' n_____s friends, who'll go to work on the homes here with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. You hear me talkin', hillbilly boy? I ain't through with you by a damn sight. I'ma get medieval on your ass." I let out a deep sigh, because deep down I knew that in reality, I was not going to do a bloody thing. Squirrel 1, GM 0. But the year has just begun.