Fiends and freaks.

I love walking through downtown Chicago. Running a quick errand can be exhilarating. Among the wealthy flood of Michigan Avenue shoppers and frantic cab drivers, the shoeshine guys close in. The spare changers stick their cups in your face. One guy always tries to sell me a Rolex. And once, I had an encounter with the classic “drug dealer”.

But yesterday, I discovered a new character on the street. At first, I saw a sweet, elderly woman with a large duffle bag and a pink wig. I think I smiled at her. But as I passed, she revealed her real personality.

Looking my direction, she screamed,
“This place is full of FREAKS and FIENDS and DRUG ADDICTS!”

And then, just before I walked beyond her gaze, she added,
“And UGLY PEOPLE!”

Wow. I didn’t know what to think. So I went on down the sidewalk, happily sinking back into the crowd of wealthy shoppers, freaks, fiends, drug addicts and crazy old women with pink wigs and large duffle bags.

A guy walks into a bar.

The first time I saw Split Lip Rayfield was an accident. Drunk, wandering down Massachusetts street with a bunch of Teller’s servers, someone suggested we go see this “crazy bluegrass band from Wichita.”

It was love at first listen. Who were these guys? How would I describe them the next day? How could I afford to buy every album they’d ever made on the measly wage I was earning cleaning animal research pens on campus?

Now, about eight years later, I find the news of Kirk Rundstrom’s death damn near impossible to fathom. The guy had too much energy. The band put on too good a show. I had too many good times with “Coffee” blaring in the background.

SLR has been the soundtrack to more barbecues than I can count. When we go camping, the only music that HAS to be in the stack is SLR. When my brother and I go fishing at Grandpa’s pond, the only disc we agree on is SLR.

For me, SLR’s music defines what it is to be a native Kansan. And now that I live up here in the land of tall buildings and dirty streets, putting SLR in the CD player is almost as good as driving down a gravel road surrounded by foothills and farmhouses.

I didn’t know Kirk personally, but I’m going to miss him anyway. That said, I’m proposing a round of shots at midnight tonight (Friday, March 23rd) in Kirk’s memory. Please join me. And invite your friends.

Slow ride.

With enough layers on and a good pair of mittens, it’s a beautiful time of year to ride a bike to work—especially along Lake Michigan. I took my cheap digital camera along yesterday thinking I could capture a good shot of the scenery. Here’s what I came up with.

Sal the barber.

As many of you probably know, I’ve been sporting a shaved head for about two years. With the help of my lovely wife and a cheap set of clippers, this has been an easy, affordable, low-maintenance haircut perfect for all occasions. I’m presentable in an easy-going work environment, but I don’t have to spend tedious moments in front of the mirror at work trying to smooth helmet marks out of my quaff.

But winter’s -15 wind chills can make the shave a little chilly. Plus, it seems a little boring and predictable. So, I’m going to head over to 111 East Wacker this afternoon to be reunited with Sal, the best barber in Chicago. It’s not the haircut, although he’s got skills, it’s the conversation.

The first time I went in, he asked the standard question,

“How are you?”

Before I could say a word, he answered for me.

“You are young, everything is always good.”

I was impressed. Even though Sal was tucked way back in the corner of a basement, below a gigantic high rise in the middle of Chicago’s tourist-packed “Magnificent Mile,” he made me feel right at home.

Have a good Friday, everyone. I’ll tell Sal you said “hello.”

Never say “I”.

I read a great article today about a woman by the name of Anne Keegan. An old Chicago Tribune reporter, Keegan just released a book about a cop. I can’t honestly say that I’m all that interested in the book, but I’d love to go out for a cup of coffee with her.

Not only do I have a soft spot for tough old women (Wilma), but she had one quote in the article that I found extremely interesting in this day and age of blogging, user generated content and “me” time.

When asked about the content in her new novel, she had this to say:

“I’m not a Gen Xer boring everybody with what I think.”

Brilliant. And a little disconcerting as well.

So, on that note, I won’t bore you with any more of my opinions or observations. Instead, I’d like to leave you with a picture I took on my way home from work tonight.

bAD.

Sure, Chicago lost the Super Bowl. OK. It’s a game. Someone had to win, someone had to lose. But the advertising? Well, all the agencies had to do was put a pile of money in an envelope and come up with a good idea. As far as I’m concerned, they also lost. Badly.

However, there were a couple of spots that stood out among the million-dollar drivel. Before reading any industry news, I feel like Coke’s “pop machine” and FedEx’s “not what it seems” were the best of the batch.

Coke commercial

FedEx commercial

Public, private discussion.

Cristi and I went to ‘Body Words 2′ yesterday at the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry. An “anatomical exhibition of real human bodies,” Body Worlds is a traveling show featuring about twenty corpses that’ve been preserved through a process called plastination. But that’s not all. There’s also about 200 various human specimens in glass cases spread throughout the exhibit.

Naturally, this sort of oddity attracts sold out crowds. Which means people of all ages and socio-economic classes are in attendance. Which lends itself to some extremely interesting conversation. There were the two ladies from Verona, Wisconsin who spent a long time staring at the liver infected with Cirrhosis. There was a young medical student who couldn’t get over the body with six fingers and six toes. And, of course, there were tons of little kids who spent the entire visit staring at the still intact male genitalia and breasts that identified the gender of each character.

Somewhat distracted by the fact that the living humans were almost as interesting as the plastinate humans, I lost Cristi. I stood patiently by ‘Ring Man’ and waited. Out of the crowd, she emerged and I followed her over to yet another glass case. Just as we were passing the ‘Male Reproductive Organs,’ she pointed to a collection of various body parts and commented, “Yours is about half that size,” and continued walking. With a few dudes around me snickering, I saw that the case contained two items: a bladder and a penis. Prepared to debate, I followed her.

“Seriously Cristi, half that size?” I whined.

“Yeah, you have to pee all the time.”

Of course, she was pointing at the bladder.

Having narrowly avoided irreparable damage to my masculinity, I sighed with relief. As soon as we left the exhibit, I explained the misunderstanding. She laughed and clarified.

“If I were talking about the penis, I would’ve said a quarter.”

What’s this world coming to?

No one uses turn signals any more. People in Boston can’t comprehend the concept of Guerilla Marketing. The situation in Baghdad continues to intensify. And perhaps most shocking of all, I don’t really have much to say. Or write.

Yikes.

So, how are you? Yes, you. This is blatant solicitation for YOUR random thoughts—please don’t let me down.