Hillary finally gave an excellent speech. It was long awaited. She took fat-assed Trump apart like a pathologist dissecting a cadaver. She did it in a normal, serious voice. Trump is a racist! He surrounds himself with fellow racists. The new CEO of his campaign, Bannon, is a classic racist-misogynist. Hopefully she has finally learned how to give a speech , and will quit yucking it up.
Yesterday evening I put on a sport coat and hopped the El. My new friend , The Aficionado, invited me to dinner at the Art Institute restaurant. My Caesar salad was okay, the soup, however, was barely edible. Still, it was lovely sitting on the deck, and as I wasn't paying for dinner, why complain. The Aficionado loved the "America After The Fall: Painting In The 1930'" exhibit. The Hopper gas station at twilight painting has inspired the Genius to once again try my hand at semi-landscapes. I say semi because I prefer mixing people and buildings into my landscapes. The Aficionado has a remarkable knowledge of Asian Art. We spent over an hour in the Asian Wing. While she was explaining the importance of paper in Japanese and Chinese ink drawings, I got a call from Goo Goo. He was sitting at an outside table with Phil the Mogul at trendy Gibsons. When he invited me to join them for dinner I told him I wouldn't be able to meet them for at least an hour. Although the Aficionado had to go home and walk her poodles, I didn't want to cut short her remarkable lecture on the various techniques used in Asian ink and water color drawings. Goo Goo told me they'd stop by the Ale House after they finished dinner.
Less than an hour after I returned to the Ale House, the Cougar walked in. She was crying. A friend had committed suicide, and she definitely needed someone to talk to. She said earlier, while she was taking her walk, she'd bumped into Goo Goo and the Mogul at Gibsons. She seemed in better spirits by the time I walked her home.
The wounds invisible that loves keen arrows make.
What is love? tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter.
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youths a stuff will not endure.
Wednesday night, while we were chatting with Kevin the poet and Rick Kogan, the Cougar accused me of being in love with Audio Tour Stephanie. Now it is no secret that I find Stephanie not only very attractive, but extremely sexy; that said, even if I was thirty years younger, the fact she is a smoker would be a deal breaker. During her accusatory diatribe Cougars eyes were flashing. Could she be jealous of the lovely Stephanie?
If ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me;
For such as I am all true lovers are:
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else
Save the constant image of the creature
That is beloved.
Fearing I had been misunderstood I proceeded to explain myself. I tried to clarify how I continue striving for a higher state of ethical perfection. "I am no mere rake, Cougar. The complexity of my character can be off putting at times, I understand this." With an admirable display of subtlety and humor I stated my case, the gist of which was -- Because I am a man of considerable learning, I am not the least averse to partaking in a little buffoonery -- even sneering jocularity -- if the occasion calls for it.
By now, dear reader, you probably have discerned Shakespeare is my go-to-guy when I feel the need to communicate with a fellow genius:
Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great,
some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust
I am that rare combination of all three. It is my cross, and I will bear it stoically because I am not unmindful of my duty to mankind.
I've crossed paths with The Actress a couple of times in the last week. Each time she seemed intensely preoccupied and I had to call out her name.
"I'm in another world."
"I hope its a good world."
The second time I saw her was near the El station. This time I waved at her as she approached. Nothing. "Actress, it's me, Bruce."
"Oh, hi Bruce."
I'm worried about The Actress. Her lack of street awareness is dangerous. You need to know what's going on around you at all times.
Street Jimmy said he helped a man move a dresser into the high-rise across the street from where O'Rourke's used to be.
"After we gets the dresser in his crib I see's a big rat runnin' across the floor, so when I goes to jump on it he say, 'hey, Jimmy, don' be stompin' my rat, he's my pet.' It blew my mind. It was a big nasty lookin' rat likes you see on the street. The dude gots a whole bunch of rats in his crib. He gots little houses for them in a cage, an' he gots food an' water, an' when one comes up to him he gives it some cheese an' he say, 'now go back in your house an' the rat go back in his cage, it freak me out. He gots 'em trained to do shit, an' the guy ain't no dumb muthafucka, his house be clean, he gots a nice car. They smart rats. He had about eight of 'em."
"Well, rats are pretty smart. I suppose if you get them when they're babies you might be able to train them…"
"I don' like rats. I likes killin' 'em."
"I'm not fond of them either."
"Why you think he like to keep rats?"
"The fault dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings…"
"I think Shakespeare might have had a couple of pet rats under certain circumstances."
"The greatest poet that ever lived."
"Why he so great?"
"He understood human nature:
Let me have men about me that are fat;
Sleek headed men, and such as sleep o' nights.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
"Wha' you mean about fat men?"
"They're lazy. The skinny bald guys are dangerous."
My pastel of Jesse Jackson Junior with the hot blonde he gave the fifty-thousand dollar Rolex for pussy. The guy with the camera is former US Attorney Fitzgerald who nailed Junior. The Indian seated at the table wearing the turban was one of Junior's bag men. I thought the waiter was a nice touch.
Junior just got out of the joint. Junior's wife is presently doing time. Shame pop didn't get to do some time.
D-Train is presently boycotting the Ale House because we won't assist in helping him commit suicide.
One of my many Ruben Four Toes portraits. Shakespeare would have loved Ruben. Ruben was a modern day Falstaff.
Former S. Carolina Gov. Sanders diddling his "Soul Mate" while his wife looks on.