Roadside Wisconsin

Sunday I went on a group bike ride with the Bombay Bike Club here in Madison. They are weekly free rides that a lot of people attend, enough so that there is a slower group, a killer fast group, and everything in between. I hung with the fast group for the first 16 miles and then got spit out on a hill -- I was proud to hold on that long. I then found myself drifting back into a small group and finishing the 66 miles with them. We took a few wrong turns on the way to New Glarus (America's "Little Switzerland"), but soon got back on track. Riding that hard (22mph +) and long is definitely a lesson in suffering, and as my teachers in grade school said, "Offer it up for the poor souls in Purgatory," or simply "Offer it up." So I went with that idea and was rewarded by an amazing sight during our 1 mile wrong turn -- a UFO. I returned later that day to get the pictures you see above. It is a car, converted into a drivable UFO, in the style of the deathmobile in Animal House. There is nothing more to be said. A half mile down the road we passed an old aluminum boat with "dick fuck" spray painted on the side of it. The ride and the wrong turn were easily worth it.

Portland can mow my lawn and pay me a $1/hr

My friend Melissa has a blog -- allbuttonedup. She married my good friend Paul. Yes, they met each other because of me. I'm the best (though its not hard to trace it all back a little further to Scott and his Cornerstone days). They live in Portland, have a wonderful son Sam, and smile and act happy all day long.

But underneath it all there may be some trouble brewing. This article asserts that if they were to lose the Trailblazers their city would descend into "the heap of lovely but forgettable towns," like Madison, which they name numerous times. We might be shy a pro sports team, but who won the 2006 NCAA frozen four for both men and women's hockey? Yep, the UW Badgers . In the end it is all about hockey.

Where did they film The Giant Spider Invasion?
Where did they film Back To School?

Not Portland, that is for sure.

Misty water-colored memories, of ...

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald



I came across a blog entry somewhere that escapes me now that had some discussion of the first comic you remember buying/reading/having – really the first comic that stuck in your head that you physically had in front of you at one point. It’s an interesting exercise in walking down memory lane, and it took me about 2 seconds to come up with my answer. I split it into the first comic I remember digging to the point where I realized just how great comics can be, and the first super hero book I loved. As is the case, my first favorite comic was not a superhero book. While I recall sometime in the early to mid 80’s a box of Archie digests making their way home from the flea market in Joliet to my room (Montana Charlie’s Flea Market – right down the road from Old Chicago, which still stood amongst the growing parking lot weeds at that time), I do remember a few comics before that time. I distinctly remember buying $.60 Archie books at T&B foods on 63rd and Hamlin. T&B was a dump even in those days, when the majority of the neighborhood looked infinitely nicer than it does today. But, it was a convenience store that had comics on a spinner rack and I could walk to it and Chicago was generally much dirtier back then anyway and what difference did I know anyway? Driving up to Prentice, WI for vacation around this time with my grandmother yielded a Whitman grab bag of comics from a gas station along the way. I think for $.60 you got 3 random Whitman books. The 2 you could see where Bugs Bunny books, but as it turns out the middle book was Grimm’s Ghost Stories #59. I liked the Bugs comics just fine, but the revelation that horror comics existed was pretty impressive. That was the comic for me. I really loved that comic, read it many times, and my eyes were truly open as to what the medium could be at that young age of 8. I loved reading horror stories so the existence of horror comics really put me over the edge. I recently thumbed through that exact copy and remembered the stories perfectly, even though they now seem pretty bad -- I now know and deeply love the golden era of 1950’s EC comics: Tales From the Crypt/The Haunt of Fear/ Vault of Horror/Crime SuspenStories/Shock SuspenStories. I was a cheap plot/story date back then, but ‘ol Grimm still is a treat and I couldn’t see ever getting rid of it. It’s a milestone it seems. I have since tracked down a few other issues in the run but they just don’t have the charm of the green cover with the frightened sailors.



Within a short time after that a friend Dan gave me his previous year’s subscription to Amazing Spider Man (#’s 227-238). He had read them many times and just passed them on as read and therefore useless. God bless him, wherever he is these days (last seen in Oak Lawn about 17 years ago…). What a prince. I read them all many times and was just in love with Spidey and the whole superhero world. I loved the idea of the cliffhanger, the deceptive/lying cover, and the ubiquitous splash page. I still have those exact, crumpled, stained copies in my collection. The book that stood out the most was easily #238 – the first appearance of the Hobgoblin (yeah, Dan gave me the comic with the Tattoos already used and gone). It took me about 3 more years to track down #239 and finish that storyline at one of the comic shops I soon regularly haunted. Within a few years I was buying Spidey and X books monthly, including all the McFarlane and Larson books as they hit the stands, but I still favor that year run on Spidey by pencilers and writers that still are unknown to me (I can’t say I’ve ever looked them up). #238 is still an expensive back issues to buy and it would be nice to have one that doesn’t look like a car ran over it and also has the temporary tattoos, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to replace my collection’s copy. It is simply worth too much.

By the end of high school I had become a fiercely DC superhero only customer and grew to love the EC books the most, but Grimm #59 and Amazing #238 still tower over them in their own way.

DYS - City To City

It's begun -No turning back

City to city

We're fighting back

Haven't changed the world

But we've made a start

We're digging in and fighting smart

And like a plague,We'll continue to spread

Fight their values until they're dead

We're serious and we won't go away

We fight for a better world - today

Laugh or frown, it's all the same

Won't play by your rules

'Cause we hate your game

One of the great side effects of moving is being forced to pack/unpack your cd collection, which in turn brings long forgotten music to the stereo once again. I probably haven't listened to DYS in 7+ years -- not for any specific reason mind you, it just hasn't happened. I still have most of the songs memorized so it was very easy to slip back into a sing along when I threw the disc into my stereo on the way to some errands tonight. It holds up much better than I had thought it would. I always remember the LP because of the Nazi in the crowd on the back, but sadly have forgotten just how good some of the songs are, City to City specifically. Boston hardcore never disappoints. Its definitely time to start digging through the entire cd collection. Such a sin to neglect all the great music there, not to mention the vinyl that hasn't been touched since September that remains in storage. I haven't listened to Bold or Gorilla Biscuits in a while...

While watching the Hardy Boys on Thursday night (er, I mean Supernatural) I was tickled to see that this week's episode was set in Fitchburg, Wisonson, which is an immediate suburb of Madison. While the real Fitchburg is not as rainy as the Western Canada where the show is filmed, they did name the hospital correctly -- Dane county is the correct county. I ride my bike through Fitchburg quite a bit but haven't seen any Strega. Its a decent show, though not as smart as the X-files, but the imagery is excellent so if you take it for a spooky hour of tv its just as fun and much cheaper than a splatter flick at the movies. I will give them credit for mentioning the names of other towns in Wisconsin where the Strega had been in the past century -- Ogdenville, North Haverbrook, and Brockway. It took me a minute to get the reference, but it came and that will enough to get me to tune in next week. Its typically a flashy, action based show so it is nice to see geeky references make their way to the surface.

...

When does a comic book character's death mean a lot? When its permanent and happens to a major character(Barry Allen, Supergirl)? or when it happens to a minor character that is beloved, sometimes even more so in death (Blue Beetle, Golden Age Sandman, Hawk)? Not to spoil this past week's Infinite Crisis, but where does its death fall into the scheme of things? I would have to say in the middle. I didn't love the character too much but the character's death was heroic and important. This is far too vague. Help me out, Wayne.

While I certainly love science fiction and fantasy, I've never been a big Doctor Who fan. I've seen plenty of the Tom Baker episodes on the channel 11 of my youth, but I never cared to keep up throughout other incarnations. I do understand that the thing with the show is that the plots are good and the effects never are. This was initially born out of economics, but after a while it became part of the show. MST3K would not be any better if the budget went through the roof -- probably worse. That having been said, a little extra money pushed towards the BBC show would help a great deal without sacrificing the show's identity (a Dalek should always look like a Dalek -- cheap and boxy). I tuned in for 5 minutes to the new Doctor Who on sci-fi over the weekend and realized that while the budget has gone up a bit, so has the cheese. There might be a big inside joke I'm missing, but the pig piloting a ship was too much. Maybe its like giving white trash money -- you get a jungle room. You give Doctor Who money, you get a midget in a pig costume.

An Art Boon

Like many people, I try to watch a good movie and read a good book on a regular basis. Most of the time these works are not great by any stretch, and many times are downright poor. This mixed bag usually further permutates itself into a scenario of good novel, bad comic, bland movie, etc. These past few days have been the complete opposite. I finished Bradbury's Something Wicked..., which was as good as everything I could read told me it would be.

I'm in the habit of taping movies on Turner Classic Movies to play the lifetime game of catch up to all of the great flicks that were made before I even walked this earth. For some unknowable reason, The Old Dark House hardly ever finds it way into the rerun schedule on TCM, even though the Universal monster flicks and other Karloff movies are in constant rotation. I taped it at 3:30am on Monday morning and watched it last night. Simply excellent. James Whale directed it and Gloria Stuart is the cute female lead (she was the old woman in Titanic). 70 minutes and you're out. Excellent as a chiller, funny as a comedy, and very weird with all of the sexual subtext.

Most people on the message boards disagree with me, but All Star Superman #3 was terrific. Grant Morrisson obviously has a deep love for silly Silver Age plots, but he also understands the romanticism underneath that makes them so fun and warm. If nothing else its an Infinite Crisis palette cleanser.

So in a 24 hour period all art I deliberately exposed myself to was A+. And its warm enough to get longer bike rides as well.

When you say Wisconsin,

You've said it all.

Women's Hockey -- National Champions

The great thing is to last and get your work done and see and hear and learn and understand; and write when there is something that you know; and not before; and not too damned much after.

Ernest Hemingway

...

The plan to race this summer took a small step forward yesterday. I swapped out the Tour de France tires I had been riding in order to save them for race day. They are excellent tires and weren't causing me any flats but they were starting to wear down. This way they will have just enough life in them to give me a little extra zip at the race. While this zip is 99.9% mental, it will help nonetheless. I threw on a nice pair of training tires and promptly put 80 miles on them this weekend.

Its almost pointless to wave, nod, or say hi to other road cyclists on the country roads here in Madison. There are so many that its ridiculous. There is almost zero sense of belonging to a sport subculture. I guess you could compare it to living in Chicago and liking Chicago style pizza. Its not that exclusive. Obviously this is a good problem for a city to have.

The Black Earth creek didn't yield any trout yesterday but it was nice to wet a line and cast a bit. Over an hour and not a single rise. Its called fishing, not catching.

I often read books slowly out of laziness, a busy schedule, or because the book just isn't very good yet I cannot commit to deciding not to finish it. A different thing is happening right now to Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes. The book is so good that I'm deliberately reading it slowly. I'm going to dole the last 100 pages out over this week by working in some EC horror comic reprints and some early 80's, pre-crisis JLA issues. After Bradbury has been dealt with the Hardy Boys will be on tap.

Reading, fishing, and cycling. Hopefully the lean economy between these things will produce the clarity of purpose that Hemingway advocates.

Its good to have goals, even if ultimately there is no finish line (except for the grave, if I can be morbidly honest for a moment). My summer cycling goal is to compete in the road cycling portion of the Badger State Games in the open category and not finish last. This may not be terribly easy as often CAT 3 and 4 racers ride these races as warm ups for their events later in the day and as a result drive the pack a little harder than it would otherwise move. I considered riding a criterium as my first amateur race but decided against it when I realized the great possibility of a crash. With an out and back race, however, the chance to settle into your own pack makes the chance of a crash a little less likely. There should also be fewer curves and turns, therefore making the pack crack evenly a little earlier in the race. Or maybe I'm completely wrong. One thing I have heard is that the fewest amount of crashes are on the velodrome because people ride without brakes. It makes sense to me. Honest.

Up here in Wisconsin we sure do love our badgers. The team, the animal, the entire experience. I discovered this past weekend during a tour of the capital what exactly resides on the peak of the capital. Glaring at it one can only tell a gilded figure is on top. Well, its a woman -- "Wisconsin" to be exact. Her hand points towards the east (DC) and she bows her head out of respect. She wears a miner's helmet to symbolize the industry of the state. Very elegant, striking, and magnetic. A fine choice and a source of pride for this still settling cheesehead.

Oh, there is also a gold badger perched on her helmet. Classy? Definitely. Something to be proud of? You betcha.

Scene from Chicago ...

I know we are all bikers, specifically urban bikers, and some of us are urban bikers on track bikes. I know there is a degree of brotherhood amongst this cut of cyclists, but I didn't know how much of a hippy thing it can be. I found myself with a young lady whom had a flat on her very nice track bike. It was obvious she rode in the city a lot, was comfortable on a fixed gear in traffic, and knew how to change a flat. She swapped out her tube for a new one and pumped it up with her hand pump, promptly breaking the presta valve. This has happened to me many times by accident, but it was obvious watching her that this was going to happen for sure (pumping at a 45 degree angle to the valve). Fair enough -- its not my tube or bike. I also noticed that she was fairly assertive in fixing it herself so I figured that a "let me help the poor girl" approach would have been very condescending, so I let her alone. I simply mentioned that I had another tube. So, another rider pulls up, offers up one of his tubes to her, which she accepts and promptly breaks in the identical way she broke the first one. Now I am the best person in the world because I have a spare tube. Fine, its only $5 and I would appreciate one if I was in her situation (without pumping like a character in a Grant Morrisson Doom Patrol comic of course). The tube is taken and the other rider pumps it up with his pump and all is well. The conclusion -- nobody gets a thank you. Without going into too much detail, it was obvious the brotherhood vibe was supposedly in effect and that was why the tubes were not seen as favors. They were expected. I'm not a poor man, but it still got under my skin. Say thankyou -- its free to do so. If you want to behave like a hippy, make sure the people you behave that way with are on the same page. Otherwise you'll just be reinforcing a stereotype and annoying me.

...

Tomorrow at work we are allowed to dress down in jeans and anything red for the Badger Men's Basketball Game in the afternoon. We were told that jeans and sweatshirts would be ok, but that "velour jogging suits were not allowed." Obviously this has been a problem in the past. Wow. I obviously did not join the company early enough.

So many things in life are relative -- happiness, money, prosperity. In Wisconsin warm temperatures are just such a thing. It was near 50 degrees yesterday afternoon and it might as well have been 90 for the reaction it received in Madison. The city buzzed and hummed with the sense of Spring and the feeling that even though there was 7 inches of snow on Sunday, this was Friday and it was warm and new promises were being made. I know it was warmer in Chicago but I was not in Chicago. I quickly took my road bike out for an 18 mile loop and as the dust was blown off the frame and wheels I'm certain my bike was singing. Since it is an Orbea it sings in Spanish of course. There will be colder days in the near future and Spring is not fully here yet, but the appetite has been wet, and my bike now demands to be ridden everyday.

I will be working tonight at the Stairmaster somewhere in downtown Chicago. If you shout out Cro Mags or Sheer Terror lyrics I promise I'll stamp your manifest faster.

Last Monday evening my roommate and I drove up to Vilas Park for some hockey only to shockingly discover that the boards had been taken down. I know March is immediately coming but it was still supposed to be in the 20's for the next 2 weeks so I banked on some hockey for that time. Wrong -- no game on. It was very odd considering that its a fair amount of work to take the boards down. I would have been the same amount of work to wait a few weeks to take down the boards. Up north in Tomahawk they leave the boards up all year long. But on the bright side the weather is looking a little warmer and the days are a little longer so I'll be able to get some bike riding in on a regular basis soon. Nope. We just got 6+ inches of snow today so biking is on break for a week or so. I suspect this is the hockey/cycling shoulder season that I'll get used to over time. But in the end, I'm the guy that moved to Wisconsin.

...

I finally read Whatever Happened to the Man of Tomorrow by Alan Moore. This is a sad fact to admit considering its one of the greatest Superman stories of all time, probably the best. The reprints were tough to come by for a while but the new DC Universe Stories of Alan Moore trade paperback solves this problem. The story was so wonderful and beautiful and heart breaking. Completely amazing. Many people that love comics see Superman as being so iconic that he can offer nothing in the way of modern drama ala Frank Miller or Bendis. They say if you think you don't like Springsteen listen to Nebraska. Well... read this story and weep for the man of tomorrow.

The reason I didn't win stage 5

Saturday night I found myself crashing on Tom’s southside couch waiting for my phone to ring at 6:30am so I could layer on the clothing for another Tour da Chicago stage. Tom is a generous host and also a wise and motivated homeowner – he is currently painting his living room (fron-troom in Chicagospeak). This places the entire condo in a state of disarray but it is easy to see the forest and not get hung up on the trees. It’s a free, warm place to crash and in a week or so will certainly look much nicer and hipper. At 5 am I became aware that I needed to use the facilities but bargained with my brain that since I will be getting up in an hour anyway, why not just keep sleeping. This is the same logic that results in sleeping through the snooze multiple times on weekdays. Once 5:45 had come all bargaining had ceased and I stumbled through the near dawn down a hallway to the washroom. The only problem (and reason anyone even needs to read this) is that there is a 2X4 along the wall. I slammed my pinky toe into it about as hard as one could. I kept quiet, finished in the bathroom, and went back to bed. After waking at 6:30 I looked down at the wool sock covering my right foot, didn’t see blood stains, and proceeded to cover the sock with an additional wool sock for the race. The toe was in a great deal of pain but I was tired and since there was no bleeding what could I really do? Driving to Chicago to race in the Tour to simply pull out due to pinky toe pain is not very hardcore, and since I live hardcore (particularly at the time of the rent) I had to gut it out. When arriving back in Madison around 5 and jumping in the shower I discovered that my pinky toe is completely dark purple – broken. As of today is a lighter-dark purple. Dr. Chris examined it and it moves and rests in the same angles as the good pinky toe so I’m saying that all will be well. So the reason I didn’t win the race was the bum toe. There can be no other logical explanation.

"When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes."
-- Desiderius Erasmus

Having just finished reading Teacher Man by Frank McCourt I'm left feeling a little confused about how to judge the book and consider how it fits into his trilogy (Angela's Ashes and 'Tis), or if a trilogy even exists. I certainly enjoyed it, but felt that some biographical broadstrokes were to be assumed. I have not read the other books but I understand that when taken as a whole all three span his youth through his retirement from teaching. It was a unique look into the life of a teacher that is constantly wondering if he is doing a proper job while also constantly striving to figure it out, when in the end the conclusion is that he was undeniably an excellent and memorable teacher. It was difficult to divine just how good of a teacher he really was at times because his self deprecating Irish character and personality wouldn't allow him to indulge the sin of Pride (I would assume he would answer that satisfaction is the death of desire and that he had no time to revel in any degree of satisfaction). I wonder if having read the earlier books I would have become more comfortable with his rhythm and found the facts within his voice a little more quickly. Well worth reading, but could easily have used another 200 pages, which I supposed is high praise. Once again I realize how indebted to teachers I am and how unique one's personality needs to be in order to achieve balance and excellence within a classroom (traits I admire so greatly because I know I don't have them).
...
Apparently when you get a haircut in Madison you must either figure out a completely new language that I do not know yet, or just accept the fact that you're rolling dice. "How do you want your hair cut?" "A '1' on the sides and trim the top. A high and tight." I left with a perfect fade that drifts into a '2' at its shortest. Its not bad but its not what I wanted. Maybe they sell different clippers up here.

Guns update

According to sources: No charges, all guns are legally held by said individual. Since he is a former police officer (briefly, many years ago) he can carry a gun and own a handgun in Chicago. All other handguns/rifles are permited properly. The odds of a good lawsuit against the city are high. He's a gun collector and since all guns confiscated by the police are etched with the po's initials, his legal possessions have been devalued. He was always a character though, and having a large collection of weapons fits.

Guns, guns, we got guns!

So here is something interesting that happened in my old Chicago parish/grade school/neighborhood:

http://suntimes.com/output/sneed/cst-nws-sneed16.html

Police arrested James Patrick, 63, on Wednesday, of the 3700 block of W. 62nd Place, where they found a cache of guns consisting of 117 handguns, 154 rifles and shotguns and thousands of rounds of ammo -- which police believe was being supplied to street gangs.
*The shocker: The arsenal was located across the street from St. Nicholas of Tolentine grade school!

Reading this online caught my eye for a few reasons: I went to St Nick's, I recognize the address as one 2 blocks from my old house, and James Patrick was MY SCOUTMASTER growing up! Nothing about this story makes any sense and I really hope more information comes to light. I suspect some CPD friends of mine will get the full story from the arrest report and that it will filter throughout the eagle scout alumni of St Nick's. Its completely crazy. The neighborhood definitely has a growing gang problem, but its usually the crotchety old residents that rant and rave at CAPS meetings about these things -- not embrace Capitalism brutally and join 'em.

The funny thing is that when I have told this story to people in Madison and start with , "So I read a story about my old Scoutmaster in the paper...," I immediately see their faces wince at the assumed incoming pedophilia arrest. Thankfully he was not abusing children, just selling guns, allegedly of course. I'm sure more information (and hopefully a mug shot) will help me sort through the facts.

Hey, my neighborhood is on the news!

Bear fan survives trip to Packerland

This past Saturday I had the pleasure and pain of attending the Frozen Tundra Hockey Classic at Lambeau Field in Green Bay where the outdoor hockey found the Badgers taking on the Buckeyes. While it certainly was a hometown crowd, everyone seemed to simply be happy to be at such a unique event and there was no visible animosity towards the Buckeyes. The crowd was mostly Badger red, although there were more than enough fans in Packer blaze orange (some with their hunting tags still attached). I had always heard that the look of Lambeau at times resembles a collective mass of hunters that have stumbled out of their shacks simply to consume mass amounts of beer and sit on a freezing aluminum bench. Its tailgating at its finest. Having been to Soldier(s) Field in my life and having many friends that have season tickets, I know tailgating at its finest. So throughout my visit to the Packer Kingdom I was asked what I thought of the stadium and the experience in general. I was mostly polite -- I respect the fact that they are an old franchise and still have an outdoor field, I respect the fact that up until a few years ago the place was an old dump (as was SoldierS Field), and in general I respect teams with loyal fans. With all those polite remarks aside, I hope that place burns to the ground, and said as much later in the evening when asked again. I don't want anybody to get hurt, I just want the franchise to become so sad and depressed that the Packers lose every game for the remainder of my natural life, and the lives of any children I may eventually have. The Bears are in my heart and blood for the long haul and Brett 'Interception' Favre can just drift into retirement unless he wants to be forced there by Brian Urlacher. I used to be polite about things like this but life is too short to politely watch people waste their lives on a loser. I owe it to humanity to tap all on the shoulder that decide to follow such a dim and fading light. Those poor souls. I hate frats for a variety of reasons and once had a friend in one. I was polite and opted for the road of 'hey, if it makes you happy, that's cool -- you're my friend.' She ended up being not that nice of a friend in the end (I don't talk to her anymore) and dearly regret not throwing in my two cents about how she bought her friends. I may have saved her had I intervened. I cannot abide as these drunken hunters walk deeper and deeper into a pit of despair following a guiding light of nothingness. I only regret that my desire to hurt that large inanimate structure is tempered by my need to also injure the Wrigley Field Beer Garden/Yuppie Palace. I'm so confused (and mature) about these things that nothing of consequence will ever get done. I joke, I joke. I live in this state and have to take the fact that I have not been beaten up while wearing my Bears shirt as a gift from the good people of Wisconsin. I ought to be mature and polite about these things, but I can still see Jim McMahon being body slammed 20 years ago.

Outdoor hockey is great, hanging out in Green Bay is plenty of fun, and everyone at the stadium was so nice to a covert Bear fan that I guess we'll call it a truce till next fall. I've traveled throughout Wisconsin quite a bit but never hung out in Green Bay so it was nice to check out a new part of the state. Green Bay was fun, but the Bears are still #1. (Rhyme unintended, bitterness intended).

Skates and Skins

But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated.

- Hemingway


At Vilas Park last night I found myself in a terrific pick up game of rat hockey, and as is most often the case, I was the worst skater. I almost always get chased down on a breakaway, but I don’t fall anymore, unless I’m involved in an accidental body check. I would say I’m improving quickly – my confidence is up and I’m able to pass the puck adequately. We played for about an hour and while my team lost, both teams probably scored about 20 goals, 3 of which were mine. Yeah, I threw down a hat trick. I did get a nice cut on my right forearm from a hook/slash/high stick, but I like to think of it more so as a badge of honor. I woke up with a sore arm and hip from a crash along the boards, but my tenacity remains undefeated and I had a 3 point game (without counting my assists, which I assure you were numerous). Game on again tonight. I’ll probably still get smoked by the rest of the skaters, but I’m in it for the long haul.

If I see the kid that hooked me at the rink tonight I’m dropping the gloves.

. . .

Working late Saturday nights at Real Chili is such a blast – lots of fun to be had, loud music, and heavily tipping customers. Talking with all the drunks around 3am is always fun. This past Saturday night as it slowed down around 4am I chatted up a couple of grad students eating at the bar. He was dressed as a Dickens character – wool buttoned coat, black top hat, forest green vest, plaid pants, sensitive beard, etc. His girlfriend had a pretty straight up goth look going. I have my money on a Philosophy Masters candidates (or maybe English Lit.), in which case they will soon be cleaning grease traps on Saturday nights as well. She asked me where I bought my hat, to which I chuckled, Kohl’s. Cool, she replied, I really like the newsboy look and want to get one myself. I then told her I wore it more so out of a connection to being a near skinhead in the past and generally being into hardcore. Its an exaggeration and a bit of fib (in hindsight, I could have went SHARP if I had been surrounded by them at a certain short period of my life), but that’s part of the fun in talking with drunks late at night. Her face dropped like I just stabbed her dog and was laughing in her face. ‘You don’t still..roll that way, do you?’ I then realized immediately that for her skinhead = racist. I then went into a nickel explanation of how the majority of skins aren’t racist and that originally it was a non racist movement. She was genuinely interested to find this out and stated repeatedly that she didn’t know any of that. I concluded by stating that most skins may not be racist, but they still like to fight (mainly other skins). Just stay away from red suspenders and red laces, I advised. So there you go – educating the drunks on State street.

Last night I drove over to Milwaukee for the opening/preview of the new exhibit Saint Peter and the Vatican: the Legacy of the Popes at the Milwaukee Public Museum (a natural history museum, kind of like the Field, only smaller). The exhibit doesn't formally open until Feb. 4th, but I'm a big shot and well connected so obviously I would be able to get in to the closed door preview with ease. They even gave me a name tag with my name already printed on it. No marker needed! Seriously, my cousin's firm in Milwaukee is connected to the museum, and after a few more connections past that you end up with my cousin on the list of invitees. Aside from the open bar and snacks you were able to tour the exhibit at your leisure with a bunch of big shots in suits. Its the only way to tour a museum for me from now on. The mayor of Beer City was there -- I sure didn't know who he is but my cousin keyed me in a few minutes after he and I had been standing next to each other reading a description of a painting.

The exhibit was really overwhelming to say the least. One highlight was being able to look at the first known map of Australia. That is just an amazing thing to be able to see. The other impressive portion was a walk through pseudo-tunnel designed to emulate the scaffolding and ceiling of the Sistine Chapel as it was being painted -- essentially the working conditions of Michelangelo Buonarroti. The Sistine Chapel bit, and everything else in the exhibit, gave me an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction, curiosity, interest, and a little instance of that nagging idea living in the corner of my brain that I'm not doing enough with my life. The whole 2000 years of history, art, and knowledge was simply awe inspiring.

Some people, as they were moving through the exhibit, mumbled something to the extent of ,"the Vatican certainly isn't poor." Its a valid point -- the Church is committed to helping the poor and collection priceless artifacts and objects isn't a terribly direct path to satisfying that end. Selling some of that stuff could feed a lot of people. True. But also, how much more enriched are all of our lives for being able to observe these works of art and history in an exhibit such as this? Mine certainly was. If they were scattered across the globe in private collections would we ever see them? How many would be lost or destroyed? The Vatican is undeniably an exceptional curator.

My goal to travel to Europe and Italy in particular is stronger than ever. Perhaps next year -- Alaska is the dream to refulfill this year.