Playing Catch Up

I know I haven't been here in a couple of weeks. Things have been pretty hectic around the casa. There have been a number of issues that have made my dedication to this forum lag a bit. It's not that I haven't wanted to post, it's just that, like everyone, sometimes things get pushed down the priority list. That doesn't mean I haven't been paying attention to what's been going on. Here then, are a few random thoughts.

People have been asking for an update on the self imposed Halloween home decorating death match that I am engaged in with my unsuspecting neighbors. So far, so good. I suspect that some of my fellow subdivision dwellers have started reading this, because this year, a few have elevated their games. I still have the scariest decorations and the most abundant display, but there are still a few days left until the big event. I'm keeping one secret to unveil in the final hours. One of the local news stations has been running a nightly feature on the most elaborately decorated homes, and I've come to the conclusion that I am not the craziest person in the world. Some of theses homes take weeks to decorate, have multiple electronic displays, ghouls, ghosts and gore galore and even FM radio broadcast capability. Suddenly I seem downright tame. I hope none of these nuts ever moves into my neighborhood. I don't have enough outlets to accommodate all my electrical needs.

Dumbledore is gay? What the hell are you talking about? J.K. Rowling announced last weekend that the heroic wizard from her wildly popular Harry Potter series was a member of the rainbow brigade. Supposedly, there has been a lot of speculation on the headmaster's sexuality on various websites. Really? This is a character in a series of children's books. Who gives it that kind of thought. Maybe people who sit around the house reading books while wearing flowing wizard robes. I read all the books, and to be honest, the sexuality of the characters never entered my mind. You know why? Because they're characters in a fantasy novel, that's why. That's like trying to surmise who the old man was humping before he went out to sea, or postulating on the sexual significance of a hat that's worn by a cat. Who cares? According to Rowling, she knew this about the character since she began writing him. We didn't, and the kids definitely didn't. Why add this complicated issue to the mix. The thing that bothers me about this is that it gives the narrow minded fear mongers another reason to try and get these books banned.

Britney got visitation, lost it, got it again then lost it again. Now it's reported she was hanging with K-Fed again. This is too easy. As soon as her new album tanks, look for Britney to be swinging from the brass pole at your local "gentleman's club" or on Craigslist under "Casual Encounters". "Former pop princess looking for discreet fun with wannabe rappers, pool boys or any one with access to a fast food restaurant. Shoes optional. Must love cameras and jean shorts. I'm real y'all."

Mother Nature has been having her way with Southern California. The fires are horrific, but after four days,the winds seem to be dying down a little. I spoke with friends out there and got an update on my old neighborhood. It was surrounded by fire, and some friends were evacuated, but thankfully they are all fine. Others weren't so lucky, so keep a good thought for them. When you're done with that, keep an angry thought for the soul less being or beings that allegedly started some of the fires. I have an idea for punishment. I know you do too, and I'm sure it involves wooden stakes, heavy ropes and lots of fire.

Stay up late tomorrow night and listen to the big show on WGN. We'll be having all kinds of Halloween fun and playing a great game during the "Overnight Arcade". Starting late Sunday night, I will be filling in for the fantastic Steve and Johnnie every morning from 2-5. If you're an early riser, make sure to listen. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian

Light It Up

After a week of unseasonably warm temperatures, Fall has arrived in Chicago and with it the beginning of the holiday decorating season. My affinity for outdoor illumination is no secret, nor is my desire to squash my neighbors in a completely one sided, self inflicted decorating competition. Now that October is here, I must focus on "Game One" of the series, Halloween.

Sure, I may put out an inflatable leprechaun in March, enjoy some rocket's red glare in July and create a life size armada of the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria for Columbus Day, but Halloween is when the pressure really begins. It is a warm up for what is coming in December, and it sets the standard for neighborhood dominance. The pressure is on. Yesterday, "Daughter" and I spent a chunk of time dragging all the Halloween decor out from the "Harry Potter room under the stairs". I marveled at how much we had accumulated to decorate for what used to be a second tier holiday. I looked at the various orange and black plastic tubs, old cardboard boxes and trash bags full of foam tombstones and wondered when exactly I had lost perspective. Maybe it was last month when "Wife" and I injected our Halloween with fresh blood (no pun intended).

On a rare day off, "Wife" suggested that we "run over to Target" for a couple things. Once there we were drawn to the Halloween decorations like Rosie O'Donnell to a cream pie. "Wife" is really good at justifying purchases with the rationalization that "we haven't updated in a while." Being the supportive mate I am, I just mumble and let her do what she wants. We got a few new decorations, but only because we deemed them scary. "Wife" hates cutesy Halloween decor and so do I. I want kids to be so scared to come to the door that getting the candy seems like earning the medal of honor. That entire pile was still in the garage, making our collection so big that it makes you wonder if we have gone over to the dark side.

I got the inside of the house decorated yesterday, but today is the day that I make my outdoor statement. We have quite a display, but I must confess that I fear I may be upstaged by a guy on the next block. He had the audacity to build an entire haunted entrance to his house last year. I don't know how he did it exactly, but there were lights, sound effects, a tunnel and I swear I saw a real zombie eating some kid's brain. I could be wrong, it might have been a toddler on a sugar high, but it was dark. As you can imagine, all the compliments I got on my decorations couldn't make up for the fact that I thought I had been bested, so this year I'm upping my game. Besides some new lights and scary ghouls, I'm adding strobe lights, fog, and live bats that will snag themselves in the hair of trick-or-treaters. That may seem excessive, but you don't realize what's at stake. It's not just the glow of pride in "Daughter's" eyes when she looks at the house, or the "the yard looks nice" under sell that "Wife" will deliver. No, it's the knowledge that in the real or imagined battle for neighborhood supremacy, I am the victor. Unfortunately their are no spoils for the victor, only a weird sense of accomplishment that will carry me to Christmas.

If you're up late decorating for Halloween or using your time a little more productively, make sure you listen to the big show Saturday night/Sunday morning on WGN. It'll be another four hours of radio perfection featuring the serious (the public transportation crisis), the sublime (a report from our very own music guy on upcoming shows and releases) to the ridiculous (I may talk about decorating, since it has taken over my psyche). I'll also have the "Overnight Arcade" and we may do one of our "Loyal Listener Shout-outs". It doesn't seem possible to squeeze all that into four hours, but I talk fast. You just have to listen faster. Have a great weekend. Later...Brian

Run For Your Life

Sunday morning, over 35,000 people started running around Chicago. No, it wasn't a scene from War of the Worlds, or a terrorist attack, just a form of mass hysteria that I will never understand, running a marathon.

Sunday was also an unusual day in Chicago weather wise. It was unseasonably hot and humid, with temperatures topping out at almost 90 degrees. Ninety in October? Who'd have thunk it? Despite the blistering heat and warnings from everyone with any sense, the throngs of nylon short wearing, body fat watching masochists qued up to inflict some self imposed torture on their bodies. Some of these beanpoles were "professional" runners who were in it for the big money, but most were just run of the mill folks who for whatever reason decided that running for over 26 miles was a good idea.

Mother Nature decided to teach these people a lesson. Before the race was four hours old, hundreds had dropped out, many were hospitalized and one poor soul was dead. (It was later learned that the man had a heart condition and according to an autopsy, the heat did not contribute to his death.), and the race was called. Runners complained that there was not enough water at the relief stations and that the organizers should have known better than to allow the marathon to happen. Really? I wasn't actually at the starting line, but from what I saw on the news, there were no jack booted marathon police holding guns to the heads of the competitors. There were no dehydration proponents grabbing water bottles, canteens or flasks of fluid form the racers. I know that training for marathon takes a lot of time, but were these long distance lunatics so cut off from society that they couldn't catch a weather report? If you are missing my drift, these people did this on their own. Over ten thousand registered runners were smart enough to realize that unless you're being hunted by a cheetah in the middle of the desert, there is no reason to be running in that kind of heat.

Reports vary on how much water was available, but from the amount of cups that littered the streets, it looked like a lot. Officials say they had enough, but that some of the first runners were using the cups to douse themselves instead of just drinking. I saw footage of a couple of these lunkheads pouring water over themselves. I understand the need to stay cool, but these science majors were pouring water onto their hats. Your cool Nike runners cap doesn't need the water Uell Gibbons, the suburban accountant that's trudging along behind you does. I guess that goes to show you what a solitary experience running is. As long as you stay cool, forget the guy behind you.

Over heated runners are demanding an apology from race officials. For what, not being your mommy and telling you to stay in your air conditioned home on a blisteringly hot day? Should they say, "I'm sorry you are such a spoiled baby and take the fact that you trained for this as a reason to risk your health"? I think the runners should apologize to us for tying up all the ambulance drivers, emergency rooms and paper cup fillers with their self indulgent silliness. You made the decision to run. Deal with it.

Before you start casting aspersions, I know I'm not in any shape to run a marathon, but why would I want to be? Exercise is good for you, but have you ever taken a look at someone who just ran a marathon? They're shaking, some are throwing up their carbo-loaded guts and they all need to be covered by the silver "space blanket" to prevent their body temps form going haywire. Man, that sounds great. "But Brian, what about the runners high and the feeling of accomplishment these people get from pushing themselves to their physical limits?" Are you serious? I get the same sense of euphoria from drinking a twelve pack and then being able to get myself off the floor and up the stairs to bed. Yes, I cover myself with a blanket, but it's soft and comfy, not some space age polymer and I never risk losing a toenail. I'm off. I need to hydrate. Later...Brian

A Long Weekend

"Daughter" is home today. For some reason, maybe a dreaded "Teacher Institute Day", school is closed. This coincides with Monday's Columbus Day holiday, giving "Daughter " and her school chums a four day mini vacation, and me two extra days of keeping her entertained. That's not all together true. She can entertain herself, but for some reason, she likes hanging around with me. I don't think that bodes well for her future taste in men, but what can you do?

I have never understood the "Teacher Institute Day". I always picture the teachers sitting around in their non-teacher apparel, drinking and bitching about the kids. "Thank God those little bastards aren't here today. I enjoy eating the chicken nuggets in peace." "I have that Smith kid in my class and he wets himself every day at 10:24. Why does his idiot mother keep sending water bottles with him?" "You think that's bad, Emily Jones (not her real name) has thrown up after eating her buggers three times since the beginning of the year. You'd think by eighth grade that would have stopped." While this scenario is most likely just a creation of my warped mind, it sits better than the probable reality of under paid, under appreciated educators dragging themselves into an empty school with their brown bag lunches and four year old travel coffee mugs to spend a day listening to lectures on how to raise the self esteem of already over coddled brats. I think the kids should have to go sit at school and give the teachers a day off. I'm sure there are local prison guards who would love to pick up a little moonlighting money, and some rambunctious middle schoolers getting maced or tazed during lunch hour would make a great addition to "You Tube".

Anyway, I can't dawdle here much longer. I have to spend some quality time with "Daughter" and console all my friends who are watching their beloved Cubs choke harder than Jenna Jameson during a tough day at the office. If the Cubs don't turn it around the mood at the radio station will be bleak. I won't let it affect my show though. If you get a chance, tune in late tomorrow night/ early Sunday morning on WGN. It should be another great show. I'll be joined by comedian/writer Mike Schmidt who'll be giving me his twisted take on sports and whatever else pops into his head and also a spokesperson from the City of Chicago to talk about "Chicagoween", the city's month long Halloween celebration. All that, the "arcade" and my usual insightful ramblings. What better way to enjoy insomnia? Have a great weekend. Later....Brian

Staring Out The Window

It's been a long morning. I was trying to shake off the effects of late night baseball. Despite my allegiance to another team, I watched the NLDS game between the Cubs and the Diamondbacks last night. No, I have not grabbed on to the rear axle of the bandwagon, it's just that the whole city is awash in "Cubbie blue" and since I work on the flagship radio station, I should probably know what's going on. I was tempted to grab a little extra shut eye after sending "Daughter" off to school, but I had to wait for a repair man.

I won't bore you with all the details, but something went wrong with the new (9 months old) TV. Unlike most home repairs, I didn't procrastinate on this one. I can give up a lot of things, (interpersonal communications, non-dairy frozen treats, yoga), but not the one thing that keeps me connected to the outside world. I need my TV to be in tip top condition. The rest of the house can collapse around me, but if I have to miss Don't Forget the Lyrics, I'll lose my mind. A part was ordered and an appointment was made to have said part installed today. I was told that I would get a call this morning and would be given a "window" of time when the technician would grace me with his presence.

We've all been on the receiving end of this type of call. We're expected to block out a huge portion of our day because the phone, cable, edible fruit bouquet company, can't nail down their schedule. The companies tell us that they have to do this because you never know if an appointment will run long, short, or be ignored all together. So we sit and wait, like hostages, looking longingly out the real window hoping to see the repairman's van pull into the driveway. I don't care how many of these "windows" I've been given, I'm always visited in the last possible moment. I try to trick the cosmic time waiting window by doing things that I hope will lure the technician to my address. I'll go to the bathroom or cook something because I know that once I get settled, inevitably the doorbell will ring. I'm only fooling myself. The cosmos is onto my little ruse. I'll read a book, make a call, strip down and put in a Sweating To The Oldies tape, but nothing works. Then like a puppy awaitng his owner's return I press my nose to the window and start to whine.

I wish we all could have the luxury of using the "window" and expecting everyone else to honor it. Just tell your boss that tomorrow you'll be in "sometime between eight and twelve" and see what happens. If he balks, tell him you're not sure how long breakfast will take, and if he doesn't like it you can reschedule, but your next opening is in three weeks. That's how they get you. The threat of the long reschedule. You think it's bad waiting four hours, try four weeks. We're at their mercy.

I could have used the time to do some research for a more constructive post, but I always enjoy a little complaining first thing in the morning (even though it's noon). I could have made fun of Britney for losing custody of her kids to "K-Spend", but that seemed to easy, and kind of sad. Yes, the TV is fixed. Thanks for asking. I'm off, there are more indignities for me to suffer for your amusement. Later...Brian