Back to work...

From all I can tell I am going to have to act the wise old uncle to these "kids" next Saturday (and I'm not sure if any one of them smoke cigars), and I'm quite sure I will be the least computer-literate of the group (plus my wife in convinced all bloggers need to get a life - especially me); but I've accepted an invite to what looks like a Wicker Park/Bucktown venue for a Meet-Up.

We shall be celebrating all things Dave (who did the 'toon as above), under the organizational skills of Kevin and a tap-dancer named Jen.

Now there's an association just fraught with danger there!

But seriously - and of all things - the party takes place in the very neighborhood I grew up in lo these many years ago. Proving, if nothing else, that life continues to be stranger than shit!

On Wednesday I will be in Connecticut and spend Thursday and Friday driving up and down the Hudson River in New York on business. Then a quick jet home, a short nap, wash and shave, rev up the MINI, and head back... um... where I started.

That's me - the jet-setter guy. Yes sir. Me and my industrial parks, $60 a night hotels and airport food. Pretty damn glamorous if you ask me...

I really don't care what your politics are. In the context of Memorial Day your opinion and my opinion are not the point. Memorial Day is established to give honor to those who have put themselves into danger for the "folks back home." It isn't important just now whether or not we want to define that danger broadly or more closely. It isn't important just now whether or not you think this that or the other is justified or right. What matters is that there are people - right now - who aren't able to go to a ball game, aren't able to go to a restaurant, aren't able to be with their families, aren't able to just goof off, aren't able to go fishing, jogging, watch their kids' soccer game, or make stupid entries in a blog about who is cool and who isn't, because they have a few more pressing matters to take care of.

What matters is that these people are from down the block, across town, who used to deliver the mail, or fix your car, or serve your dinner, or drive that truck. There are people anxious for them to come home who may be in front of you in the check-out line, or selling you your lottery tickets, or just wondering where Daddy is and when he's going to read them a story before bed again. And there are people somewhere close to you who will never see the son they waved good-bye to again.

And you can take it or leave it. You can ignore it or think about it. You can turn your back or face to the front. You can say and think and feel anything you want.

But they are our sons and daughters, husbands, brothers, sisters, wives, cousins, uncles, in-laws or the guy down the street we set off fireworks with last 4th of July and never knew his name.

And if we forget them we've lost ourselves, and any grace and honor that we were born with.

From the desk of the VPICLOW (Vice-President In Charge of Looking Out the Window) and the In Case You Hadn't Noticed file... Some things on the blogroll to happily send all my traffic away! WhatamI... NUTS?

Just found a girl who has had 4 martinis, and as I told her - anyone who talks about Dorothy Parker and the Specials on the same page has to be a friend of mine!

A veteran on my roll (been there from the start) you really need to check out if only because he makes chocolate stuff in Paris... David Lebovitz... is asking the musical question "Will Tom and Katie, Charlie and Denise, and Britney and Kevin just divorce already, so I can finally move on with my life?"

Brandon over at Down With Pants! is still more proof if only to myself that - with each passing addition - there is simply no one consistent worldview represented in my blogroll. It doesn't matter to me if you are a conservative or a liberal - eventually everybody has to shut up and EAT.

And kinda ditto there on kapgar, and he even has this really cool picture of a great big yummy hamburger right there! Plus he is one of the forces behind the Great Chicago Meet-Up next weekend and he lives right over there (points).

Speaking of local stuff, I can't get enough of Overheard In Chicago. Black Girl: (Pointing at key chains) "Mama, Mama! I want bling" Girl's Mama: "Baby, that ain't bling."

And don't forget - can't forget - Jolie because - well guys - what would you do with a house-full of women who were all... you know... at the same time?

This past winter I told you about my continuing saga with the Commonwealth Edison electric company in this post, wherein from a lightning storm in August of 2005 until the present my meter was fried. I called the company twice and registered the problem once online. The last two times I tried to report the incident I was brusquely told "we know this sir. We can't initiate a new investigation until the last one is concluded."

At which point I said "okfinebye" and went my merry way.

A couple of Saturdays ago I saw a ComEd truck in front of the house and noticed a guy in a hardhat monkeying around on the side where our meter is. After he left I went to see... and sure enough I had a working meter again.

So I held my breath until this latest bill came in. The above cropping is from my bill, showing the recorded usage over the past year. And the bill they presented me with?

$59.11

No seriously - it happens to me from time to time. As a committed gastronome I have no problem trying all kinds of different delectables. And I've already confessed that I could just live on appetizers and salads alone. I love those little things. Probably why I'm such a fan of tapas. A little finger-food, a little wine. Life is good.

Sometimes I even notice I tend to talk about the opening courses in my little amateur restaurant reviews more than the entree. I can't deny it.

I also can't deny that I have noticed a distinct growth around my mid-section that - if I'm not careful - is going to have to get itself a zip code in another year of this kind of thing!

So I've been watching what I'm putting in there. Ahem.

And it dawned on me that with the four and seven bean salads and white wine for dinner, the monster veggie and spinach salads I've been bagging for lunch, the light celery and mushroom soups, the fresh fruit raspberry-strawberry-blender thingees I've been making, the copious amounts of apples and oranges and lemons (cut up a lemon and eat it straight with just a dash of salt! Well... it fights the scurvy), and all the juices and... um... wine... I've been a real good boy lately!

I deserve a cigar! And since I haven't actually had a cigar or a cigarette in years, I see a sweet little maduro in my future.

The doctor said one a week won't kill me. Then he kind of pounded the table with a grimace on his face but I don't know what that was all about.

But hey - I have always said that wine is what makes a diet livable. And cigars are vegetables too!

Aren't they?

In this week's Roundtable Sereena X puts on a top hat and her slinky silk stockings and asks the musical question... "the real Doomsday/Armageddon/Apocalypse hits in seven days... What will you do with those last seven days?"

Hit it boys!

But I will make it clear right here and now that I am not one of these dishrags who thinks that just because you made a comment on my blog I am going to kiss you and your erudition has a right to be preserved for all time.

If you're out of line - you're out of space. This isn't a democracy. My reader base may be small and I a little fry in blogdom, but if you're comments show you to be an idiot - or you're trying to sell something - or you really need a pike stuck three feet up your ass to help out the condition of the general gene pool - it isn't my duty to help you spread that information to people.

Go be an idiot on someone else's watch.

Thing 8 - Oh You And Your Stupid Politics


Nothing ruins an evening like politics. I can't tell you how many times in my life I have had to salvage a night from the clutches of partisan point making.

And that's what it is - points. Keeping score. You've had a burr up your butt the whole time, just angling to find a way to interject something about abortion or the war or the cost of gas and the vast conspiracies that control the spigots of the world.

It takes a major effort for people to get the evening back on track after one of your number decides to bruise the conversation with an important issue. And to what effect was the diatribe directed? Does the speaker believe that there will be a benefit to the gathering if the talk of our children over a bottle of wine and a handsome meal is usurped by the introduction of dialectic and dogma? Does the speaker believe that we shall be impressed with his or her phraseology and think them to be a giant in our midst?

If politics is the nature of your group, and the trotting out of these darker arts is a given there is no problem, of course. But if in the middle of that you begin talking about your 12-year old boy's squeaky voice the serious-minded around you would probably eviscerate you. So if it can be understood by people that there are issues that make no sense in the context of a political discussion; why is it so hard for certain boneheads to get it through that calcified wood around their brain that the opposite is likewise true?

My wife is actually expert at changing the subject. I think she has a degree in it. And a valuable person to have around because of it. Imagine a gale of laughter topped by someone spouting about the gravitas of the key issue of today...!

Blah.

It should be well remembered that the answer to all the world's ills was given by a now discredited band of thinkers and all who have come after are cheap simpletons. It should be always remembered that there hasn't been a great President since Calvin Coolidge. And it should be remembered that it was Mark Twain who said "In religion and politics, people's beliefs and convictions are in almost every case gotten at second hand, and without examination."

So the issues having already been settled, don't ruin the evening for everyone else. Eat. Drink. Laugh. Don't be the one they remember with a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head because you didn't even know who Felix Morley was and went ahead and ruined dinner anyhow.

I mean... really!

Labels: 27 Things

While most smaller towns in the Midwest have dismantled their memory in place of shopping malls and subdivisions Galena Illinois has maintained not only its history but the buildings that came with it. This is where Ulysses S. Grant was a failure before he was a success, and was a success before he turned into a failure again. On the balcony of the Desoto Hotel, inside which you can still get a room, speeches were given by Grant, Lincoln, Stephen Douglas and Teddy Roosevelt - though not all at once. And the main street (called Main Street) just drips with authenticity because a cursory glance down the street shows you what it looked like when it actually looked like what it looked like. If you get my meaning.

The problem with Galena is that there are only certain kinds of establishments that have any business there. Walk into a 1920's era Ice Cream Shop, go into a book store of first editions, try out one of the fine old B&Bs, visit one of the several wineries, tour Grant's old house, the still-standing trading station from the 1820's, check out the antique shops, go get some fresh-minted chocolate candy; all of these are legitimate reasons to go to Galena and legitimate businesses to have in the context of this historical place. And one T-shirt shop is not offensive. But a T-shirt store across the street from a T-shirt store which is next to a T-short store sitting next to the third of four kitsch marts selling little plaster angels with rods coming out of its ass that you can stick beside a bush in your yard is just wrong.

Just wrong. Not only just wrong - but truly stupid.

Which is all the more reason to wind up in the real class-A restaurant in town called The Perry Street Brasserie where surrounded by medieval brass reliefs you can stow away from the sometimes overburdening volume of Civil War-era atmosphere for a while and have a world class meal.

After a sumptuous appetizer of freshly made hummus with warm pita, I settled in for the venison-black currant, quail-bean stuffing pairing. To this I added a side of morel and portobello mushrooms in cream. As for the wine... now do I really have to tell you? If you were paying attention you would know that the real first rule of pairing is not red with this or white gets that, but that you should "Use a wine that comes from the same region as the food." And in this case the venison and quail being American-bred deserve an American wine. Quail is darker meat so reds couldn't be far wrong. And of course Zinfandel is the perfect wine for game. So... what else is new?

Our hosts at the B&B told us that we needed to be sure not to stuff ourselves because of the desserts. Chief of which is a chocolate thing that gets spread around an inflated balloon, then is dried, then the balloon gets popped, and then I don't know what the hell else happens but it is just this side of heaven.

If I had one technical comment I would say that my plate was a bit "over-sauced." I mean the food was swimming in a sea of liquefied black currant. Too much, and overpowered the venison just a bit.

Still, it is the chief place to stop in when bric-a-brac and kitsch shopping in Galena. Ends up being a refuge, in fact.

Reservations are required but attire is strictly casual. Here's a map of how to get there, plus phone number. Go! The owner and chef was a chef for the Beatles, I am told, and has served royalty. And, being a Brit, is an explanation why one doesn't go to the UK to eat... all the chefs they had are HERE!

And I'm glad about this one.

Labels: restaurant reviews

I'm going to do more in detail of course, but it is a beautiful sun-shiny day and I really want to get back out there and drink some more beer soak in the edifying facilities of the wonderful weather.

I'll be doing a review of a SUPER Galena IL restaurant next time up but for now here are some vacation shots that pretty much epitomize the trip.
(Click To Enlarge)


Here's the MINI parked in front of the Galena museum.















Here's the MINI parked down by the levee.















Here's a horse up on the third floor of a building.









Be back soon! More to come...!

Thanks to Dave2 and Agent Bedhead for filling in for me while my wife and I took some time off.

Having spent the last four days in the 19th century it is strange coming back to the 21st. I hope to have some pictures and reflections up soon; including a sparkler of a restaurant we found, a take on our first B&B experience, and the general tone of tourISM as it is being done in the modern world.

But until I get my notes together I want to take my hat off to my two pinch-hitters. Looks to me like they've raised the bar around here, if you ask me. Now I'm going to have to do that much better!

And just in case it may have crossed your mind... (and no, they didn't know I was going to do this - mwa haha) you can take a look at more DaveToon T-Shirts, and/or talk to the Agent about retooling your web site or blog any time. Y'know?

I did both!

A guest post from Dave at Blogography

Guest blogging is kind of a scary prospect. On one hand, I am terribly flattered that RW would ask but, on the other, I think he must be insane. I mean, he DOES read my blog, so assumably he KNOWS how demented I am... doesn't he?

And then there's what to write about.

On my blog, I'll write about anything from the joy of eating Pop-Tarts to dressing up like a pirate and exploding people's heads with my psychic abilities. But this is Chasing Vincenzo, not Blogography, so I am going to do my best to be RW today...



This is kind of a daunting task, because how does one fill the shoes of somebody so cultured and refined? RW drinks fine wines and dines on culinary masterpieces. I, on the other hand, have been known to have cheap beer and Doritos for breakfast.

At first I thought I would be daring and write about the best wine I had ever tasted. I was kind of excited about the idea because it has an interesting history to it... but then I got to the point where I ordered macaroni and cheese for my entree, and realized any credibility I had for making a wine recommendation had just evaporated. But what about food? I get to travel quite a lot for my work... surely there's some great restaurants I can talk about, right? So I picked out some major cities around the globe and started listing my favorite things to eat for each. The first city was New York. My favorite restaurant in New York is the McDonalds in Times Square because they have a terrific vegetarian hamburger called the McVeggie Deluxe. Okay, let's skip New York. How about London? No... that's a cheese sandwich. How about Paris? No... that's a donut. Tokyo? Toast and jam. L.A.? A burrito. Chicago? Pizza. Hong Kong? Corn... MY FAVORITE THING TO EAT IN HONG KONG IS CORN, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!! Yeah, that's not going to work out either.

With food and wine neatly out of the picture, I've decided to throw caution to the wind and write about the ramifications of fuel emissions contributing to greenhouse gasses, their part in global warming, and how this phenomena is damaging the planet by adversely affecting weather patterns around the globe.

Uhhh... that's a bad thing, right? Yes, I just Googled "global warming" and apparently it IS bad. So nobody drive cars or use electricity anymore and everything will be okay.

There we go. Entry complete! Mission accomplished! Not only did I fill-in as a guest blogger, I've done my part to fight global warming as well!

Oh, and RW... you are welcome!

A guest post from Agent Bedhead

The other evening, I did some well-deserved beerin' and chillin' with the boys. Not much though, as my responsibilities that weekend were at a crucial point. A few days from now, my mind will be able to relax a little for a few weeks, and I intend to get in some rest. Unfortunately, a tradition was passed over that evening, as we attempted to do the drunk dial to a pal, as they often find me highly amusing to speak with when I have had a Moretti or two.

This tradition I failed miserably at, as I've lost several phone numbers due to my cell phone display shorting out. While I did have most of my contacts listed in a backup place, recent numbers hadn't yet made the backup list, and the intended call recipient was the last person I know to join the leagues of mobile phone fanfare. Can't say I blame him, because the rest of us rely so heavily on our cell phone directories that we cannot hardly remember a phone number other than our own. Ah dependence on technology, it shall be the death of us all.

I realize the morbid tone of those last few sentences, but the sudden loss of many important phone numbers was rather like the scene in The Great Gatsby where a minor car crash occurs. At that point, all action ceases as the trendy folk realize they haven't a clue how to render the vehicle mobile once again. Then again, I don't think Fitzgerald thought of that theme originally--most likely it got swiped when T.S. Eliot mocked Arcadian ideals in The Wasteland. It's all derivative, baby. At any rate, my friend's resistance to the constant changing of times and technology may paradoxically work in his benefit. He may indeed be the last man standing when the wrong person gets ahold of the great computer in the sky that gathers all of our individual data, i.e., health history, bank and credit records, education, criminal background, automobile-related records and licenses, and much much more. Good times.

So back to the chillin' from several hours ago, the two fellows in attendance were of stubborn demeanor, as they held an implicit contest on who could visit the restroom the least number of times. That amused me, since everyone is under the impression that only females have issues relating to public restrooms. So on the female side of things, I endured a profound irritation at the ensuing discussion of what "holding it" does to contribute to impotance problems. In addition, our table did discuss our ideal mates. The boys of course focused on the inconsistencies of female dating preferences, i.e., strong yet gentle, relaxed yet motivated, equally comfortable with a night on the town or with a Blockbuster evening at home. At that point, I decided that what I really wanted all along was a man with a broken spirit. This way I wouldn't have to worry about breaking their willpower totally on my own. Now I must depart to evaluate my success on that matter. Carry on.

Some guy named Dan Brown writes a novel called The DaVinci Code and it becomes a huge industry. Nevermind it is and was meant to be fiction, Opus Dei is enhanced to be seen as even stranger than it already is, or the whole thing demonstrates how much we all need to get lives; everybody and their brother has taken this ball and run with it.

It doesn't seem to matter - even to the Catholic Church - that it is just a freakin' novel, people are reading all sorts of things into this. Can you say manie du jour?

I prefer to keep my conspiracies and mysteries real and accounted for. For example the identity, life and fate of a fellow most people know as B. Traven.

By now not many people remember him - and that is all part of the mystique. His most famous point of contact with the world is that he was the fellow who wrote the original story of "The Treasure of the Sierra Madre" which was (as you can see to the left) made into a classic film starring Humphrey Bogart and Walter Huston.

On the face of it this is nothing of any consequence. The story only starts to get interesting if ever you tried to learn a little bit about B. Traven. That's when it starts to hit you that there was either really no such person, or the name was a pseudonym for any one of perhaps three other writers, or it was all the invention of a single charlatan who was taking advantage of a man he basically held hostage, or was the name used by a German anarchist, or a little bit of all of the above.

He was supposed to be a recluse who lived in the wilds of Mexico. He was supposed to have spoken to publishers and fans only through a mysterious associate (whom many people thought was actually B. Traven masquerading as a third party). He was supposed to be a shadowy figure who inhabited the margins of the movie set when it was filming. Or maybe everyone involved in the movie was in on a great manufactured gag just to pump up the film's interest.

Whatever it is, if you looked long enough you would find articles claiming to be the authoritative and final interpretation of the details of the mystery - and only a handful would actually agree with each other.

Per Finland's Pegasos: "B. Traven is one of the most mysterious figures in the 20th-century literature. His exact identity is still subject to much doubt. Although Traven claimed to be an American, his most important works were first published in Germany during the 1920s and 1930s, before some of them appeared in translation in England. Nothing definitive is known about Traven's origin. However, Traven's novels have been translated into more than 30 languages, sold more than 25 million copies, and they are required reading in Mexican schools...

"B. Traven (1882?-1969) - names associated with Traven: Ret Marut, Hal Croves, Traven Torsvan, Bruno Traven, Arnold, Barker, Feige, Kraus, Lainger, Wienecke and Ziegelbrenner - Traven Torsvan, born in Chicago on May 3, 1890 - Hermann Albert Otto Maximilian Feige? - birth date perhaps February 23, 1882?, in some sources May 3, 1890 and March 5, 1890."

From Wikipedia: "On the basis of their writing styles, it has been suggested that Traven was a pseudonym for the German anarchist Ret Marut, who published an underground magazine in the last years of the Weimar Republic."

Or More, and still MORE.

Now THAT'S the kind of mystery-conspiracy-whatever I like... one that actually happened.

Know what I think? I think if I ever found out who B. Traven was... Chef Vincenzo would be right there beside him making a dish of pasta. That's what I think!

Sometimes I get into an all alone part of the map. I'm not a forceful speaker so I hear myself not being heard. I don't put myself out front and center and so see myself not being seen. On the road I can sit in restaurants and watch the locals. At home I can see the family buzzing along oblivious. It is actually a neat place to be. And alone does not have to be lonely - in fact if you're doing it right "lonely" is the last thing it is.

But there are times when it just pays to step back and be quiet. Like reloading, or recharging, filling up the tank again. Marshalling your energy. Storing it up.

Fact is, it looks like I'm going to have to store up a BUNCH in case I end up having to sit next to this guy in early June.

Gads!

Well Happy Mother's Day to you too, dearie. And try this on for size from our "what's wrong with this picture" gallery. The image I have of a guy who can't get a date wearing a red plaid reversible bucket hat while slinging a red nylon tote bag over his arm is just far too precious for me to deal with.

(Knight Ridder Newspapers) WALNUT CREEK, Calif. - The list of suits by San Diego men denied Mother's Day weekend giveaways at Major League Baseball games is growing. Alfred Rava, a San Diego attorney, filed suit in Alameda County Superior Court last week accusing the Oakland A's of sex discrimination because he did not get a free plaid reversible bucket hat during a promotion at a May 8, 2004 game.

A similar suit was filed earlier this month in Orange County Superior Court.

That lawsuit, filed by Michael Cohn, alleges males and fans under 18 were treated unequally when they were denied a red nylon tote bag during a Mother's Day promotion at a Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim baseball game last year. The bag was given to women over 18.

Rava is Cohn's attorney in the lawsuit against the Angels; Rava is represented by another San Diego-based attorney in the suit against the A's.

---------------------

I'm glad we don't have to worry about frivolous discrimination cases involving jobs or voting or housing any more. How dull would that be?

More Like This...

...talk about the searches that brought people here, but throw in the added feature of showing you where we ended up on the search results page.

Here's today's search phrases that led people to our humble little bloggie. So far just three.

foxfire restaurant in geneva, il
cowpoking
how to get a woman drunk

I understand the first one. In fact I have been very surprised at how many restaurant searches are ending up here. I mean - really - I'm just an amateur restaurant reviewer (and never claimed otherwise). But this blog gets daily traffic just on the varied restaurants that have been reviewed here. Maybe I ought to start asking for perks?

But... cowpoking? And then it takes the searcher to the Brokeback Mountain rant. Well... ok but / I wonder if the guy was looking for actual cowpoking and got sidetracked? Ahhhhh dunno.

Then that last one... "How to get a woman drunk" he wants to know. And I have two observations about this. The first is that I'm totally shocked that this blog should appear FIRST in the results. I mean, I know how searches work and all but after all these years you'd think somebody would have done a studious article on that by now. And my article wasn't even really about that!

But my second observation is... you have to ask that question? I mean... maybe try alcohol?

Sheeesh.

It no longer matters. Life is too short. I've got to say it. Why should I live a lie?

If I've seen one on this trip to San Francisco I've seen one thousand. But the tassled shoe should be MURDERED. Rounded up and shot, one-by-one, with the feet still in them.

These stupid shits are like a boat with a little cockroach strung out on a noose and hung from your pants leg. Ages and ages ago we had these sucking things bouncing around on our house slippers when we came out to see what Santa left under the freakin tree on Christmas morning. Oh! Just lookit what the hell Santa brought... here... let me kick my football with my genuine replica Indian moccasin..." POW! What the hell possesses people to allow themselves to be caught looking smug in public while wearing these shit-boats with little dangly crap-brown tassels swishing around on their feet? What the hell are they thinking? Are you going to get on a magic carpet any minute and fly away to the casbah? Or are you just too lazy or fat to bend over and TIE YOUR SHOES ANYMORE? You've got little elongated gonads with tails on your feet you cretin!! What the fuck is this all about??

I know. I know. This all started with dickies... little mock turtlenecks with flaps you stuck under your shirt, didn't it? And then paisley scarves and a Nehru jacket. And tassled shoes.

It would be different if it had a skull death-head with a beard or something, anything except these cute little acorns with fringe and flaps that point upwards after two days of wearing them like a God damn pair of elf shoes.

I can get Sneezy or Dopey to give economic policy and it would look the same. Go to your closets and throw this shit out. NOW!

The chances are pretty good that as you read this I am either en route or already in California for still more business travel. It isn't exactly Sade singing "Coast to coast, LA to Chicago, western male / Across the north and south, to Key Largo, love for sale ..." it is more like "hmm, there's another industrial park we get to drive into! Wooo freakin' hooo!"

But when I get back there'll be time enough to host the Thursday Roundtable and turn around just quick enough for my wife and me to get GONE for a few days - as we track the evil Chef Vincenzo into the wilds of the back-waters of Illinois.

To help out the proceedings during the week of May 14th I have scored what I consider to be a major coup in lining up two guest bloggers that will blow you right away. Right smack away, indeed.

The Wednesday of that week will be hosted by none other than agent bedhead, to be followed by Dave2 himself.

I mean are you kidding me or what?

The sooper seekrit agent bedhead just happens to be the fatale who designed the page you are looking at right now. And though she is the ace gal reporter slamming the foibles of the People's Republic of Hollywood at her own corner of the blogodexahydrosphere (or something like that, her gang calls it), I happen to know there is an even wider range of expertise lurking behind that coy expression than she leads people to believe.

And if you can't be dazzled by Dave2's toon-artistry and depth of knowledge of all things pop-tarts and pierogies then what are you... NUTS?

I can't imagine how I got lucky enough to trap get these two to do the honors of the first Guest Blogging in Vincenzo's history. They are both DAILY reads of mine and should also be yours.

Take a look at their stuff, and go to see them often. Starting May 17, you will get back-to-back dinner specials. Those are two people who make the blogospectahedronolisphere... or wtf ever it is... worth being in! I mean at least until dinner time.

See the rest of youse guys Thursday...

With the summer months ahead there are all kind of holidays coming up including my favorite all time - the 4th of July.

It isn't that I'm uber-patriotic, I'm really not. In fact in the last few years I've gotten so Apolitical it isn't even funny. But I'm a true blue, baseball-lovin' (well, White Sox anyhow) American and outside of the fireworks and the cookouts and the beer I love putting up the flag.

But my problem is... and don't tell anybody this... I don't actually much like the way the flag is designed. Ok ok - shoot me now but I'm sorry, it just doesn't make it for me.

In fact when the flag-displaying holidays come up, this is the flag you will see outside my house...
I just really dig this flag. I mean, come on - give it up! That is just a downright TOO COOL flag, and it is an actual historical American flag. The Gadsden Flag dates from the Revolutionary War.

In fact all of the flags I wish we had as our actual flag come from around that time; the latest of which I think was from the War of 1812. The Commodore Perry flag. You remember that war don't you? That's when the Canadians got their built-in excuse for when they do stupid stuff? 'Cuz their Canadian... see? Eh?

The problem is the Perry flag, though kind of cool, just isn't really a national flag candidate because its in English and doesn't have any cool designs like snakes and stuff. Besides, isn't there an old comedy bit about "Never give up... the ship?" I don't know. We attract enough comedy routines already, I'm thinking.

The Fort Moultrie flag is neat because it has a cool moon thing going on but, again, English word. Maybe if it was in Spanish, or the word was something we understand more about these days like "Cheaper Gas" or something. I like the original concept of this flag, and it has a defiant attitude like the Gadsden, but not for a national symbol.

In a kind of understated, classy way the old Continental flag is kind of neat. It would certainly be a radical change from the old stars and stripes, but it would be 1. Historically American (it was used by the Continental Army), 2. Maintain the top left block thing we seem to like, and 3. Appease tree huggers environmentalists! Not really a bad thing - a flag that both army guys and the socially conscious may agree on. This is probably better than the others, so far.

But, yeah ok - you can read me by now. This is all a lead up to what I think should be the official flag of the USA (and, by the way, this is not an open invitation to the sour-pusses in the audience to make flags with dogshit and stuff going on and don't go cruisin' for a deletion here. I'm not one of those who thinks people have a right to say anything in my house, k? ). I think the box of stars is dumb, but I recognize the stripes are so indicative of the national flag that that has to stay.

So I have a modest proposal. In keeping with my tendency to over-emphasis the nostalgic, I give you my candidate...


I think we need to go back to what it meant when it was like this.

My old cronies already know, but in another life I owned this URL (don't click, really), and sold horseracing tips on the Chicago area thoroughbred tracks for several years. Fact is that for a short period of time I made my living at the track and though the money was there, it was no life.

Nowadays I am a $2 bettor, if a bettor at all. But I still keep my eye on the horses and will always love it.

So here's what I used to do sell to my clients, given to you, free.

I'm going to box 4 horses into a trifecta and put $2 on every possible combination.

For those unused to it; By BOXING a TRIFECTA I am saying three of my four horses can finish 1st, 2nd, 3rd in ANY ORDER at race end for me to cash a winning ticket. This tactic costs more up-front but gives me more chances to be a winner. I am picking 4 horses and betting on all possible combinations among them for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd. Only the top finishing three matter, but I am putting four horses in the mix to increase the number of combinations that will win for me.

The horses that finish 1st, 2nd and 3rd create what is called a TRIFECTA. If you place a bet saying which three horses those finishers will be, and they win, you have won an amount EXPONENTIALLY larger than just a plain WIN bet. You are taking a bigger chance, and betting more money, to get a bigger payoff.

The rule of thumb is that the trifecta will pay off even larger totals when horses with longer odds finish in the top three. So even though we put the favorite in this trifecta, we actually hope he finishes third, because a horse with higher odds on top will make the trifecta more valuable.

So... I go to the window and say "$2 trifecta box, 1 - 7 - 11 - 18." There are 24 possible three-horse-finish combos. So to cover all possible finishes between four horses with $2 will cost me a total of $48. To minimize the outlay I can call for a "$1 Box" and spend $24, but I will only get half the stated trifecta pay-out if I win. Now, back in the player days I would put a $20 box on this, pay $480 -BUT that would probably be the only bet of the entire day (or even week) and I would have had to feel VERY confident in the pick to do that. But I knew guys who would put $200 boxes on trifectas. That's right, $4800 on a race. They were big fish.

So we have the 1, the 7, the 11 and the 18 in our tri. If any of these finish 1-2-3 in the race, we win the full tri payout.

Short Notes:
#1 Jazil; Speed on the rail. Expect to see this horse leading early but fading. May have enough ground to save. Put in top three.
#7 Bob and John; A Bob Baffert entry. Baffert is due in the Derby and this horse has the family history and a good price. Not the favorite and will help the pay out if he scores.
#11 Sweetnorthernsaint; Under the radar. Has the breeding to get it.
#18 Brother Derek; is the race favorite and with good reason. Good post position to come up late.

Have fun!

The other day my drinking buddy Annie, who doesn't drink, asked her readers the musical question "Do you keep in contact with old school friends or go to reunions?" ...without singing. I didn't answer at the time because I didn't see the question. I have been in Iowa again and that is sometimes enough to stop you cold... or something. Anyhow the travel this job requires can be pretty staggering.

(Now watch me tie these two threads together like a pro...)

But the fact of the matter is that this coming Monday I will be involved in Day 1 of my trip to the San Francisco area and it just so happens that night I will be having dinner with a fellow I graduated high school with (Class of '71 - hoo-rah). So the answer to the first part of Annie's question is... YES, I do keep in contact with old school buddies.

And it is worse than that even! Our restaurant club (we are two couples that used to be three couples but we pick a different restaurant to get together in once a month) currently contains a woman I also graduated high school with. In fact, the missing third couple also contained yet another woman I graduated with. Oh - and as a matter of fact my wife was also at that high school - though she graduated after us.

So... yeah. I do keep in touch. In fact some of my deepest friendships have been, and remain, with people I knew when we were kids. It beats some of the fickle, mean-hearted, and brutishly self-centered people I met in the years after.

I can see where, if things weren't all that great for you in school, that a person would want to forget. When I was in charge of the entertainment for our 30th reunion I did run across people on the phone who wanted no part of us. But I can safely say even when I look at some of the bad stuff that happened, though there are people from that time I just walk past and I can't deny it, I wouldn't trade my life-long friends for anything.

So, Mike... hope your wife can come with us. We'll have a blast Monday night.

S.K. Waller, the Incurable Insomniac, reflects on the varying hues of friends and acquaintances as the inexorable life process worms its way through the myriad nuances and verisimilitude of relation and relativity.

Or, in the open-faced world of Foresign Theatre, "we're all bozos on this bus."

Go therefore, do likewise...

Dr. Gilda Carle, whoever the heck that is, wrote a big extensive article that our faithful wellspring MSN decided to publish the other day.

Why MSN just doesn't come to the real relationship-expert right here at Chasing Vincenzo in the first place is beyond me. It seems I always have to fix up the stuff their "experts" can't handle, and we could save a lot of 0's and 1's if people would just come to their senses right now, damn them. But such is life. I'll save them again, ho-hum. I'm going to abridge the article a bit because A. It is too freaking long, B. Everything Dr. Carle says sounds like Dr. Phil in drag, and C. Most people stop reading after the 12th paragraph ok?

It starts off with the question Q: What is the main reason for cheating? To which Dr. Carle predictably says "There are many reasons why people cheat" and it's their parents' fault or society or blah blah blah. Wrong on all counts. The main reason for cheating is sex. Next question.

Q: Is it true that all men cheat? This question strangely follows a question that asks "Is it cheating if you don't engage in sex?" The good Doctor answers the "is it cheating" question with a vapid non-answer that pretty much leaves it up to the individual. So if the individual says "just flirting with someone is cheating" then probably "all men cheat." If the individual says "it isn't cheating unless there are certain noises" then all men don't cheat. Though the Doctor says women cheat too, what she fails to mention is that the big difference between men and women is that men have sex drives and women have motives. I mean right? Huh?

What?

Q: I believe that my partner of two years is cheating. What are the main signs to look for? The three main signs to look for are 1. Discovering sex toys you never get to use. 2. Your spouse is making sudden trips to the doctor followed by prolonged periods of no sex. And 3. When you do have sex, there are inventive new positions that seem to spring out of no where.

Q: How do you tell if a man is just saying what he thinks you want to hear? Ask him to repeat what he just said.

Q: How is it that one day you are the love of someone's life and almost overnight you're forgotten? You are 13 years old.

Q: I separated from my husband due to his affair with a woman much older than me. I'm younger, in better shape and fairly intelligent, so why did this affect my self-esteem so badly? Maybe it is because you're still getting those nightly headaches. Ya think?

The next to last question that the good Doctor gets is directly related to her book, which we will gloss over. In fact we are getting very close to the point where people stop reading. So this seems like a good place to stop writing.

Stay loyal out there!

When two people tell you you're sick... lay down.

On the advice of people who are certain I am remembering scenes and things from a past life (thus explaining my feelings of "nostalgia for a time not lived in"), I have taken the meme, even though I swore never to take another.

It seems to me I am always getting results that are impossible. The European city I belong in is MINSK, I should wear flour sacks on my head and live in a cave, and people see me as a clown.

And now this...

In a Past Life...

You Were: A guy in a doorway looking in on a guy with a beard and a cigar. Nothing else is known except... Where You Lived: The Bronx. How You Died: Swallowed a tin can.

Bah. Bah to you all, I say!

Labels: Blogthings, memes, self-mutilation