F**K 'Em If They Can't Take A Joke

I don't mean to be provocative with the title of this post, but I'm really getting tired of all the politically correct, narrow minded thinking that has taken over our society. I know this is a topic that I've written about before and talked about on the big WGN show, but despite my impassioned pleas, I have not made much progress changing the hearts and minds of a humorless populous.

It seems to me that people have become incapable of taking or getting a joke. ESPN's Dana Jacobson was participating in a roast of fellow sports broadcasters "Mike and Mike". According to reports, she was "swilling vodka" and launched into what some considered a tasteless tirade. Her insults were not only directed at the dueling Mikes, but included shots at the University of Notre Dame (one of the Mikes Alma Mater) and at Jesus himself. She has now been suspended and forced to make a public mea culpa. Why? Because some people cried foul, that's why. Before some of you get your panties in a wad, let me say that I am a fan of both Jesus and Notre Dame. Both have brought me moments of joy and moments of disappointment. The latter brought on by multiple Irish losses. Most people wouldn't defend speech like Jacobson's. Who wants to come down as pro Jesus mocking? I guess I have to.

If you've never attended a roast, not the sanitized Dean Martin roasts you can buy on late night TV, but a real roast, let me enlighten you, they are raucous affairs. The purpose is to embarrass the "Guest of Honor" and insult just about everyone in attendance, especially the other people on the dais. It is a grand tradition and not for the faint of heart. The Friar's Club is known for their roasts and made the mistake of letting outsiders view one, leading to the Ted Danson black face uproar a few years ago. Tasteless jokes are not only encouraged, but they are expected at these events. The roasters have to bring their best (worst) material and deliver it fearlessly. The content is definitely not for everyone, but if you're putting on a roast, that's what you get.

I think it's fine for some to say they were offended by her remarks. The "jokes" may have been disrespectful, poorly thought out and even (the worst sin of all at a roast) not funny, but unless Jacobson was expressly told to "keep it clean" I think she was within her rights to say whatever she wanted. According to reports she was booed off the stage. That should be punishment enough. Some people shouldn't attempt humor. It's not a gift all have been blessed with, and as Dana now knows, it's not easy. The embarrassment she felt after the event would have served as her wake up call. Having to face her co-workers would have been her penance, but the P.C. Brigade wasn't satisfied with that. No one in the media is allowed to make any mistakes without having to don their sack cloth and ashes and pound their chests for forgiveness in the public square. At least Notre dame was smart enough to say that they realized the situation in which the comments were made. If only we could all be as wise as Notre Dame.

Lighten up! She screwed up in an arena that was meant to foster groans, insults and "oh no" moments. It really is a shame that just because the "jokes" were aimed at Jesus and Notre Dame, the knee jerk reaction is to make this woman suffer in public. She needs to stay on the job. Obviously she needs the cash to hire better writers.

Stay up late Saturday night to listen to the big show on WGN. I've got a lot of interesting stuff planned, but if things go as usual, those plans may fall to the wayside. I might even say something that you disagree with. Before you go crazy, take a second and ask yourself "Is he joking?". We all need to do that a little more. Have a great weekend. Later....Brian

No, This Isn't ACME!

I was going to write some long winded, no doubt hilarious build up for this story, but when something is this wild, why bury the lead as they say in the newspaper business? (Despite being a "dying medium", newspapers still have some influence. How else can you explain my Drudge-like fascination with fedoras decorated with a "Press" card?) I guess I ended up sticking with the original plan. I can't help myself. Once I start writing, the words tumble out like a politician's insults.

Did you take a gander at the picture over there? Yeah dude, that's a coyote. "Wow, Brian, were you out in the wilderness, tracking the cagey beast? Were you shadowing a Nature photographer? Did you copy that picture from Google Images like you do the rest of your art work? " No, no, and no! I took this picture out my family room window. That's right, Wile E. Coyote was in my backyard. Now I could understand his visit if my yard were over run with road runners, giant strap on rockets or trays of tasty meats, but such is not the case. Except for scattered piles of frozen dog doo, which Wile E. found interesting enough to sniff a few times, my yard is bait free.

I was in the front of the house when I heard "Daughter" shrieking. I'm used to hearing her bellow, but this time her shouts sounded a little more dire. She was so excited, she couldn't even get the word "coyote" out. I must admit, I was pretty jacked myself. How often do canine predators come ambling into your yard? You would expect that my dogs were going crazy with this lupine intruder sitting out back staring at the house like he was casing the joint for an Ocean's 11 type heist. You would be wrong. Baloo, my old (13) dog, rose to the challenge despite having lost her hearing, poor eyesight and a bad hip. She stood at the door and let Wile E. know she meant business. Spike, the young (3) big dog looked out the window, then laid down on the floor without making a sound. He didn't bark until the coyote left the yard. It was like watching someone who hid during a fight, emerge from behind a dumpster and yell "Yeah, and stay out." The entire family was mesmerized watching the coyote watch us. He stayed in the yard about five minutes and then went next door, sitting in their yard, casing their house. He did the exact same thing in the next two yards, and then returned to the cover of the wet lands.

Is it sexist for me to keep calling the coyote "he"? I usually assign the masculine pronoun when unsure. I could have done a little research, but checking a coyote's sex wasn't on the top of my "to do" list.

It's very exciting for me when nature comes calling. I get a thrill out of seeing things where they don't belong. You know, things like vegetables on my dinner plate, some one's granny at a Motley Crue concert or a wild beast perusing my patio. I keep watching for the coyote's return, but alas, he hasn't made another appearance. Now I'm like the young boy from Shane, calling out "Wile E., Wile E." Maybe if I paint a train tunnel on the side of the house.... Later...Brian

The Cold Is Coming, The Cold Is Coming!

Panic is setting in throughout the Chicago area today. There have been no terrorist threats, the only recent UFO sightings have been down South (which really shouldn't surprise us) and the Governor is not offering free mass transit rides to space dwelling, terrorist, senior citizens. No, the cause of the panic is the impending arrival of ...wait for it...cold weather.

The weather monkeys who populate the local media are calling for a whopping two days of sub zero temps and unholy wind chill readings and the populous is getting their long johns in a bunch. I know, freezing temperatures in January, in Chicago, does this signal the end of time? If you believe the weather monkeys, yes indeedy!

We're all being told to take measures to protect ourselves and our loved ones from the frigid climate. Oh no! Whatever will I do? Please weather monkey, give me helpful tips. Stay in the house. Got it. Wear a coat? That's a novel thought. I had already laid out my halter top and gaucho pants for tomorrow, but I guess I can throw on a coat. Remember that heat escapes from my head so I should wear a hat. OK, but then where will all my cartoon frustration be released? Should I check on my elderly neighbors? I can't. They're all out riding the buses for free. Thanks Governor. Now the streets will be littered with seniorcicles. I'm just going to pull my grill inside and fire it up to keep warm. That's no good? Thank God for the weather monkeys. I would surely perish if not for their timely and informative tips.

Here's a weather tip for you. It's January. Suck it up and do everything you can to stay warm. Simple huh? I'm off to burn my furniture. I know the thermostat would be a saner way to control the temperature of the house, but I'm crazy with fear.

If you can thaw out long enough to turn on your radio, don't miss another exciting installment of the big WGN show late Saturday night. I'm going to be visited by the "Insatiable Insomniacs" and we'll play the "Tri-Bond Challenge" during the "Overnight Arcade". Sounds fun, right? We may even talk about eating raccoons. Now that's good radio. Have a great weekend. Stay warm. Later...Brian

Ear Plugs Sold Seperately

OMG! That was undoubtedly the most popular text message being sent by thousands of Chicago area "tweens" last night after witnessing the most popular thing to come along in music since the advent of the ear.

On a blustery, frigid night, the pink tour bus of Hannah Montana (no relation to Tony Montana of Scarface fame, even though they both said hello to their little friends) aka Miley Cyrus pulled into town and brought with it one of the highest grossing concert tours of the year. Tickets had sold out in minutes, but "Wife" and "Daughter" were there. The first response I got after telling some friends about my ladies (yeah, I'm Mr. 1973) heading to the show was "How the hell did you swing those tickets?" I was shocked by the tone of envy in their voices. Maybe the envy was tinged with greed, knowing that a pair of tickets to see the pre-packaged Disney musical creation could fetch thousands of dollars on the open market. That makes more sense.

I didn't have anything to do with securing the tickets. "Wife" in her infinite wisdom joined the Miley fan club, "Miley World". One of the perks of the $30 membership was that a "limited quantity" of the modern day equivalent of Willy Wonka's golden tickets would be offered to the faithful the day before the rest of the screaming masses could vie for them. At the appointed time, "Wife" went into a "refresh" button pressing frenzy which culminated in a pair of tickets in the upper atmosphere of the venue. I was informed that these precious dockets would be our Christmas gift to "Daughter", ensuring "Wife" the title of coolest mom ever.

So last night, off they went. "Daughter" had been saving money from Christmas gifts, and other gestures of generosity so that she could continue to fill the coffers of the Disney Corporation and a teenage millionaire. Normally, I try to instill some sort of fiscal responsibility into her little noggin', but last night I knew she would spend like a drunken sailor. (No offense to all the drunken sailors who are known to frequent this forum, but you know it's true, you spend like crazy after a few highballs.) "Wife" did apply some bakes to the consumer train and "Daughter" came home with the requisite concert T (priced 300% higher than my first concert T. It was the Eagles by the way.), some fake all access laminents and a $10 glow stick that "Wife" said was the must have for every girl in the place.

The revues were glowing. "It was awesome! It was better than I ever expected." was how "Daughter" phrased it. "Wife" just smiled and said loudly ( the two and a half hours of constant shrieking, not her own, had left her ears a bit tingly) "that kid puts on a really good show." According to my sources, there were backup dancers, pyrotechnics and video screens. The music was good and the hot topic of a body double was not an issue, since Hannah/Miley let her opening act sing while she transformed. "Wife" said that right before the change, Hanna and her opening act launched into a spirited rendition of the KISS classic Rock and Roll All Night. Who knew that these kids partied every day? Not the kids in the audience. "Wife" reported that thousands of little faces suddenly went slack, but the parents took the opportunity to bob their heads and shake their tail feathers.

So "Daughter's" first concert is in the books. It was a real bonding experience for both "Wife" and "Daughter" and I'm glad they were able to share it. I'm also glad I didn't have to. I don't care how loudly Hannah, Aly and AJ sing it, I doubt they really rock and roll all night. Later...Brian

Don't Cry For Me

"There's no crying in baseball!" We all remember a bloated, drunken Tom Hanks character shouting those immortal words at one of his players in the fine Madonna vehicle A League of Their Own. Until the other day, I thought that was the credo for politicians as well.

A lot has been made of Hillary Clinton's "emotional moment" on Monday, so I figured I should weigh in as well, seeing as I'm widely considered a political pundit, and by "widely" I of course mean that no one in their right mind would consider me a political pundit. I just like the sound of "political pundit". It feeds my love of alliteration, and allows me to spew spittle (see, alliteration, the writing equivalent of my Achilles heel) ala Walter Matthau in Grumpy Old Men. Everyone from media "experts' to the homeless guy in the park has been spouting their opinions on the episode. Was it a calculated move by a savvy politician, or a genuine moment of emotion by a woman pushed to exhaustion? Was it a sign of weakness, or a glimpse of humanity? Wow, I'm even starting to write this like a talk show host. Feel free to pretend you're calling my show when you answer the previous questions. I have seen a lot of people cry, or get choked up, which is a more accurate portrayal of what senator Clinton did, but since I'm not a true "political pundit" but a wisenheimer I can exaggerate a little. I had never seen such behavior from a person seeking the Presidency. I've heard of the Ed Muskie incident in 1972, but the fact that I was only 9 at the time means I was not accurately following politics like I should have been. The only crying I saw was my own when my Stretch Armstrong began leaking green goop. (I can't stop)

It would be easy to dismiss the emotions of Hillary Clinton as a measured ploy to attract voters. Many people on both sides of the aisle feel that may be the case. The cynic in me feels that way too. I have first hand knowledge of the inner workings of political campaigns, (not Clinton's) and I know that all kind of strategies are implemented to garner votes. It would be easy to write the Senator's show of humanity off as just another tactic, but I won't. I'm going to tap into my inner softy and choose to believe that she was being genuine. The driven, polished politician finally showed us all that she actually is made of flesh and blood and not just hard wired by some evil computer genius like the cyborgs in the Terminator films. It was nice to see a hint of a real person lurking beneath the pant suits and pearls. I just hope the rest of the field doesn't take this as a cue to start bawling at the drop of a hat. I can't see John McCain breaking down like he's looking at a basket of kittens during some stump speech, but to be honest the thought of John Edwards having a hissy fit when his hair gets messed up fills me with glee.

I do hope that this sends a message to all the candidates that besides being informed on the issues and having a plan for the future, the voters want to believe that their leaders are people first, who do have feelings and are able to express them. I don't want my President blubbering like a simpleton all the time, but it's good to know that everything isn't always black or white. If that were the case, we'd all vote for Mr. Spock. Hey...there's an idea. See, punditry in action. Later...Brian

Back To The Grind

Well it would appear that the holidays are now officially over. An unseasonably warm snap facilitated a weekend of dismantling my exterior holiday illumination and today the final nail was driven into the holiday coffin, the alarm clock rang at 6 am signaling "Daughter's" return to school. I can't say I'm too sad about the end of the season, but I do miss the Disneyesque quality our neighborhood takes on during the holidays. Now we have to endure eight gray weeks until Spring.

The end of the year has been chock full of happenings that beg to be commented on and I will get to them in good time. It was brought to my attention this weekend that more people may be visiting here than I previously imagined. The cross promotion between the radio show and this blog is starting to bear fruit. Who would have predicted it? I'm not trying to pump myself up or anything, it's just nice to hear. On the flip side, now I feel pressure to deliver. Will I "cowboy up" and bring it, or will I crumble? I love when I ask myself the tough, rhetorical questions. It makes things seem so dramatic doesn't it? Adding the life or death aspect to the blog process elevates it to a new level. Maybe "Death Blog" could be one of the games on the new version of American Gladiators. I'm ashamed to say that "Wife" and I endured over an hour of that quality programming last night. I was a fringe fan of the original version, but during fits of laughter last night, I realized that the new and improved spandex battles could be a harbinger of the end of time.

Listen, I enjoy seeing hard bodied ladies in form fitting outfits as much as the next guy, and I'm sure the ladies enjoy the cartoonish male gladiators. There is something weirdly erotic and terrifying about these characters, but after watching them beat, toss and shoot at the various contestants, I started to wonder how long it would be until the tennis balls being shot out of the cannon were replaced with real shells. One female contestant cracked her head open and you could see the crowd licking their collective chops as their blood lust was satisfied. Maybe I'm hanging out at the wrong places, but have you ever seen anyone like the "Gladiators" walking around your neighborhood? I think they're created and stored in some lab and let out only after Hulk Hogan dons his 'do rag and shouts "brother" the requisite number of times.

Enough of this. I don't feel like dwelling on my time wasting any more. I have important things to do. Look, I'm doing it again, adding gravitas to the mundane in order to infuse the events with a sense of urgency. Truth be told, I just need to shower and pick up dog doo now that the snow has melted. How's that for urgency? Later...Brian