April 21st, 2017 § permalink
It’s one of those mighty and mighty common glass towers that dot downtown Chicago. It’s a glimmering, glistening testament to beautify and individualism, just like the two across the river from it.
It’s condos and rental spaces for stores that don’t seem to materialize. There are ads on the wall for a new ping pong bar, the trendiest of trends for 2017.
Here’s where it all started for Chicago news. This slapdash casement of glass and pretension is the site of the first newspaper ever printed in the city. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 5th, 2017 § permalink
I’ve been hearing about it at work for about two weeks.
Just little barbs and jabs. A few references here and there. Snarky asides, glare in the eyes as they call me out.
But I’ll stand by what I said, may god or man judge me how they will: “Land of Lincoln” is a terrible state slogan.
» Read the rest of this entry «
March 29th, 2017 § permalink
I’m currently off in South Dakota with the family, looking at dinosaur stuff and chasing the wild jackalope. I’ll be back Thursday, but to tide my throng of fans, here are a few Chicago-based 1800s quack cure ads from a book I bought at Wall Drug, along with brief commentary on if they would kill you. » Read the rest of this entry «
March 13th, 2017 § permalink
They call it a library, writing Library with a capital L in the emails setting up the date.
“The Living Room is being used on Tuesday but the Library next to the Living Room would be available for you,” the email from the event manager read.
I have to tread carefully, as this was a work appointment. Not a “this website” work but Work also with a capital. The place that feeds me and clothes me and where I find myself saying things like “workflow,” “bandwidth” and “talk offline.”
So I’ll be cautious where I can and euphemistic when I need to. There’s nothing bad that will be said here at all, but a place where people say “Do you have the bandwidth for this project?” instead of “Hey, you got time for this?” is a place whose boundaries must be honored. They let me do my silly site, I keep them free from its pages. » Read the rest of this entry «
March 10th, 2017 § permalink
I guess I could tell you what his sign said, but I won’t. Not because I think I’m saving any souls or sparing any innocent ears, but because it pleases me that not spreading his words will make him feel pain, just a tad.
But for the story’s sake, I should describe the man. No good tale without a protagonist, eh?
He was an awful human being decked up to tell the world how awful he was. » Read the rest of this entry «
February 22nd, 2017 § permalink
“I wouldn’t get walled up for that,” she said, passing me the small snifter of medium dry sherry. “I would for a Palo Cortado, though.”
I took the glass, sniffed and sipped the amontillado. It had a semi-pleasant taste that I liked quite a bit. Not good exactly, but unforgettable.
It was a taste I’ll never taste again at a place I’ll never go to. » Read the rest of this entry «
February 17th, 2017 § permalink
The downtown whispers at night. » Read the rest of this entry «
February 3rd, 2017 § permalink
On Wednesday, I ran the Chicago Journalism Quiz, looking at our city’s journalism heritage.
Each correct answer below is a link to a place you can learn more about what really happened. » Read the rest of this entry «
February 1st, 2017 § permalink
Hello from the opposition party!
When I’m not spouting emo political whines on this blog or fighting crime as The Crimson Hammer, I’m a journalist.
The news is troubled and troublesome, both a victim of the current political climate and complicit in its creation. But when the president of the United States starts yelling FAKE NEWS at anything he doesn’t like and calls your inky tribe “the opposition party,” it’s hard not to swell with pride a little.
It’s also a discouraging time for some in news, so in a rally-the-spirits moment, let’s remember how we got here in this city with the Chicago Journalism Quiz. » Read the rest of this entry «
January 30th, 2017 § permalink
It seems like time for something funny, an uproarious deep dive into the minutiae of urban living, like… winter hats or something.
But nothing seems funny. » Read the rest of this entry «