Tuesday, September 30, 2014

NYC Hotel Costs Worse Than Crack Addiction


Gracie here.

The blog posting might be a bit sporadic this week. In addition to my duties at the Ale House as well as being a dutiful wife and dog owner, I have a vast online jewelry empire that has been consuming every second of my free time. My clientele is primarily middle aged, christian women from the Southern and Plain states. Therefore I'll spare the audience of this blog from any more details. 

Dad seemed in good spirits this morning when I called him. He ate pizza for dinner and I lectured him again on marinara sauce containing sugar. He was still extremely upset at the delays he faced at the airport as a result of last Friday's chaos created by the disgruntled employee of an Aurora air traffic control unit. Everyone seems puzzled by his motives. Apparently the employee reacted in such a manner after learning he was being transferred from Aurora, IL. to Hawaii. The first thing that popped into my head was maybe he had a dog, in which he wouldn't be able to take it with him because of Hawaii's extreme quarantine laws.

Street Jimmy looks terrible. It's definitely the worse I've seen him in the 10 years I've know the scamp. He's hunched over with a hollowed out face and eyes that appear zombie like. So far I haven't seen him today. The end may be near for America's favorite crack head. When Jimmy learned that Dad's hotel room was costing $300 a night he proclaimed: "The be way worse than smoking crack!" 

Last Sunday after eating 2 hotdogs Ruben immediately called the handy-cap cab service. When he was informed that there would be about a 2 hour wait Ruben voiced his displeasure. New Nick volunteered to wheel Ruben the 6 blocks to his house. I later asked Ruben if he gave New Nick any compensation for his service he replied, "Of course not, I didn't want to embarrass him" which was then followed by his mischievous laughter. 

Yesterday was the first day I actually felt normal since getting the enterovirus almost 3 weeks ago. I was sick for 11 days and even after I still wasn't up to snuff. It was brutal. 



Monday, September 29, 2014

RomantiXXX


Gracie here.

Since the 5th of May a bridge on Route 12 in Gary, IN. has been under construction. The bridge is about the length of a Buick and I feel that FaggyPants and Street Jimmy could have fixed it by now. However, its still under construction and ever since I've had to detour my commute to Route 20. If you're unfamiliar with Northwest Indiana the strip of Route 20 that goes through Gary is populated with abandoned lots, trailer parks, seedy motels, some very sad Chinese restaurants and lots and lots of strip clubs. The strip clubs seem to increase in quality as you continue East getting closer to Portage. The seediest being Pandora's Box which is the first stop. It has to be the size of my college dorm room. As you keep going you pass Shangri La (with boarded out windows), Too Much Temptation, Honey's, Honey's Too (which has a plexi glass shield out front for the strippers to shield themselves from the wind as they smoke) until finally reaching the NW Indiana's premiere strip club, the all new SCORES NWI ($10 lap dances all day Sunday and Tuesday). 

However, there is a different establishment that is completely packed morning, noon, and night (7am on Mothers Day there were no spots in the parking lot, cars were parked along the highway!): RomantiXXX Adult Bookstore. The place is a constant fascination to me. My first thoughts were "doesn't everyone buy their porn on the Internet now"? Of course the patrons at the Ale House laughed at my naivety. Some suggested there must be a glory hole, others a prostitution ring. I implored D-Train to have a reporter launch an investigation but he was reluctant. Until finally all my questions were answered last night. 

L had just come back from seeing a Red Orchid's final showing of its latest hit play. Somehow I brought up my annoyance at my nightly detour. It turns out that not only is L familiar with Route 20, he has actually been to RomantiXXX, perhaps more than once. He said that the establishment is home to an old fashioned Penny Peep Show which featured a girl doing "stuff" in a room and you put money in a slot and a curtain goes up and you can watch. But what struck L the most was the first thing he saw when he walked into the building: A man, with a mop, wearing full length wading boots, like the Gorton's Fisherman. 

Mystery solved. 

Sunday, September 28, 2014

The Genius Is Going To New York

          Completed my rough draft of California Jail Break this evening and was so pleased with myself that I took a long walk along the lake and then doubled back on Oak St and then over to Old Town. It's still going to need a lot of work but at least I knew what I was doing this time and kept a note book.  When I get back from New York I plan on a full frontal attack. I amaze myself.
          There were a lot of people on the street and it actually seemed warmer the closer I got to the lake. While I was walking down Rush Street I ran into a woman I used to know back in the 70's when I lived in The Bay Area.  She still looked pretty good for an older broad. She gave me a heartfelt smooch on the lips. The last time I saw her was twenty some years ago at my ex-girlfriends funeral. She said her husband died and she has a new boyfriend . She's in town for a wedding. When I told her to stop by the Ale House she said with an air of apology she's not drinking anymore. My friend Harry said that she gave him the clap. These things happen. Her late husband was a goofy looking guy; he had a nervous finger-snapping walk and tiny feet. Every time she introduced him to me he looked at me with the curiosity of a stranger meeting someone for the first time. 
               When I got back to the Ale House Ruben Four Toes  had a pained expression on his face. He said his big fat tummy was acting up and he was nervously awaiting his ride home. His queasy stomach did not prevent him from waxing nostalgic about his years in prison. When Mitt asked him about prison sex he folded his hands and smiled wistfully: "yeah, those were exciting times. I often heard the words - 'that white boy belongs to me.' In the showers the words you heard most often were 'bend over bitch'. When I was on the farm guys fought over the cow. And they meant it. 'That's my cow... Crazy motherfuckers."
              When men were men!
             Mitt had to go home because he'd been sailing all day and Lynn called and said that she misses him. She's going to Tampa tomorrow. 
            Poor Johnny Ale finally arrived in Atlanta 36 hrs late. 
             When Grasshopper asked Ruben if he wanted another beer Ruben nodded and said, "hop to it."
             D-Train came in with a spiffy leather jacket and a tweed cap turned backwards. I like the look and will tell him so when he's able to comprehend what I'm saying.
             Today is Son In Law's birthday.
              When I got home I only read for about a half an hour before my eyes started hurting. I'm becoming increasingly concerned about the effect myasthenia gravis is having on my eyesight. Weakened eye muscles are among the symptoms most often reported.

               *

             This morning I watched some of the Ryder Cup taking place in Scotland. I was definitely rooting for the Europeans. Yes, they have their share of assholes, but they're much more interesting assholes than our assholes.
            Street Jimmy was once again a no show and Faggypants had to do all of the cleaning. Jimmy's excuse will be, "I was sleepin'." This, I keep trying to explain to him, is not a real good excuse. Most employers would frown on such an excuse.
             I watched the Bears lose to a not very good Green Bay team. Cutler, the Bear QB, has serious mental issues.
              While we were watching the game Charley came in with little Teddy. Teddy is a very smart kid. Charley said his mom had her thyroid removed. I hope she's feeling better.
               I'm leaving for New York on Monday. Unfortunately the airlines are still fucked up because of the nut boy at the radar station. Hopefully I won't be spending too much time at the airport. The weather in New York is supposed to be quite nice this coming week.
            Depending on her mood Grace Littlefeather will write my blog while I'm gone. 
             Peace and love.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

If His Lips Are Moving, He's Lying

           Yesterday evening when I arrived at the Ale House  I was greeted with the news that a tipsy Australian Davey had been in the bar and had just left. Was this just a coincidence, or had someone read him the unflattering things I'd said about him in yesterdays blog? Why he would want to drink in an establishment where nobody can stand him is puzzling. Australian Davey possesses an immense  - if unwitting - capacity for self-parody. He has a well deserved reputation as a pathological liar. It is often said about him in the neighborhood that if Australian Davey's lips are moving, he's lying. And his lips move incessantly. I've never fully understood the type of liar who lies simply to lie. I can certainly understand telling a lie if you think it will redound to your benefit - that's human nature, but to lie about anything and everything indicates some kind of deep seated pathology. The most amusing thing about Australian Davey (as well as the most annoying) is his ineptness as a con man. He's not very bright and yet he continually tries to con people much smarter than him. He just doesn't seem to get it.
              Ruben Four Toes successfully ate a sausage and pepper sandwich from Burton Place. He seemed quite pleased with himself. You can tell when he's pleased  when he gives you his soulful, basset hound look. The late Arthur Klug once described Ruben thusly: "Ruben presents himself as a dishwasher among gentleman, and a gentleman among dishwashers. It's an interesting dichotomy."  The jowly, balding, smart alecky Mexican, feeling the need to relieve himself called for Street Jimmy. ( I've seriously been considering writing a parody of Don Quixote with Ruben representing Don Quixote and Jimmy assuming the role of Sancho Panza.)  Jimmy immediately appeared and seconds later pushed Ruben out the door. One of these days a reckless bike rider or skate boarder is going to come speeding past the bar just as Ruben exits. It will not be pretty.
           Jimmy has been smoking fifteen to twenty hits of crack a day. When the weather turns cold people become less generous and his crack intake will suffer accordingly. Jimmy fantasized about being a bartender: "if someone buy a drink an' he say I give you a hundred, I'd say hell you did, you only give me a ten."
           Ruben found this quite amusing.
           "I'd get drunk as hell too."
           When D-Train came in he was beside himself about the lunatic that sabotaged the local airports radar systems: "can you believe it, they wanted to transfer the asshole to Hawaii and that's why he inconvenienced millions of people all over the world. Well, one things for certain, Homeland Security better get their act together because if one nut case can bring the countries transportation system to it's knees, then they better enhance their security. Hawaii - can you imagine - the idiot didn't want to live in Hawaii. It's not like they were telling him he had to move to North Dakota..."
             Johnny Ale had gone directly to O'hare Airport after he got off work at four in the morning and naturally his flight never got off the ground and so now he's going to miss his cousins wedding. He still plans on flying today to some after wedding festivities.
           Chronically late Mike was once again late filling in for Johnny. I find his chronic lateness baffling. 
   
           *

            Jimmy was sleeping soundly on his new lawn chair when I made it to the bar this morning. I'd warned him about not showing up on Saturdays and Sundays when he's needed the most. It took a while to wake him up. When he finally regained consciousness he said, "I smokin' all night an' I'm tired as hell."
            "Jimmy, although I admire your candor, I have serious doubts about your fitness to do an adequate job of sweeping."
            His eyes were dull and lifeless as he pulled himself up and out of the lawn chair, "I be okay."
           Faggypants was also a bit lethargic and Buzz Kill continues to wear an ultra serious expression at all times. 
            I decided to take advantage of the lovely weather and take a morning walk.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Is A Frogs Ass Water Tight?

               I'm down to the short strokes on my rough draft of "California Jail Break." I should have it completed by the time I leave for NY. The hardest part of writing a book - at least for me - is the first draft. The editing and polishing is the  fun part - that's where I work my magic. My goal is to have it completed by New Years. 

            When I arrived at the Ale House last night Ruben Four Toes was absent. When I asked Anya for an explanation she smiled, her voice similar to the throaty purring's of kitty cat, "he ate a McDonald's cheeseburger."
            I had discussed his gastrointestinal problems with him the previous day. "Ruben, you need to get control of your gluttony?  you must learn to forsake certain types of foods and avoid the rat holes you buy your food from."
            He stared at me, his face looking as if it had been painted on a large balloon, "I have a feeling for such things."
            Conveniently forgotten in all this is the increasing frequency of these tummy upheavals. Staring at me with his large, angelic brown eyes he said softly, "you are a stupido."
             Street Jimmy's hip seems better. Gracie gave him a pair of her pants. They are the color of iodine and you can see Jimmy three and four blocks away. His feet smell like decomposing jelly fish. Faggypants shoots them with deodorizer every morning while he's sleeping. 
              While I was taking my walk earlier I stopped by the bar Lisa works at to make sure she was there. She was so I got my vitamin B-12 and syringe and brought them back. She shot me up at the bar. One of the waiters was needle shy and had to go outside while she jabbed the needle in my arm. I think she would have made an excellent nurse.
              Mitt and Lynn had been to Rome for a week. They both seemed to enjoy themselves. When it was time for Mitt to take Lynn home I asked him if he was coming back after she fell asleep?
            With a sly smile, he answered, "is a frogs ass water tight?"
             Anita made a rare appearance. She was with her special colleague. He's from England and seems like a nice fellow.
           
              *

             This morning Juke Box Joe stopped by while I was chatting with Buzz Kill. We tried to decide who the worst asshole that we could think of was. The list was a long one but we all conceded that Hardware Joe's youngest brother, Bob, had to be at the top of the list or if not at the very top, close to it. Buzz Kill, who did not know Bob that well, thought Australian Davey should have a top spot. This reminded me of the time Australian Davey  tried to scam me: He sidled up to me one day and said that a so called Scottish pal of his named D- had hustled his step dad out of some money playing golf and so Australian Davey wondered if I wouldn't  mind arranging a golf game with D- and avenging his step dad. I barely knew D- but somehow he conveniently materialize in the bar shortly after Davey asked me to hustle him. 
              "So you're a golfer?"
              "Yeah," he said with a Scottish burr.
                "How about a game, a straight two-hundred dollar match?"
               "Sure, where do you want to play?"
                "Jackson Parks closest."
                 "Too many niggers."
                  "Oh," I said, "well those niggers just so happen to be friends of  mine so why don't we forget the golf game and you step outside with me right now, cocksucker?"
                   Australian Davey's face instantly turned a sickly grey hue. 
                 "Bruce," Australian Davey said waving his puny arms, "let's all calm down."
                   A minute later the two of them were gone. 
                   The following year when Australian Davey's mom and step dad returned to Chicago Davey asked me if I would take his step dad for a game of golf. This I did and he seemed like a nice gentleman. While we were playing  (at Jackson Park with two black guys I knew) I asked him if he had in fact had a game with D- ? 
              "Yes, he's very good. He shot par from the back tee's at Kemper Lakes."
               "Really, and did you gamble?"
                "Of course not, I'm not in his league."
                 So Australian Davey and his Scottish pal D- had tried to set me up. One doesn't forget shit like that.
                  This story of duplicity did not seem to shock either Juke Box Joe or Buzz Kill.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Mrs. Clown Makes A Rare Appearanc

                Yesterday afternoon after pouring my heart and soul into my sequel to my prequel for four hours I took a badly needed break and took my long walk. I am starting to think that wearing sandals on my walks was a poor idea. My back seems much better since I started wearing my walking shoes. I walked to Fullerton and then doubled back through the zoo. The new construction appears to be almost finished on the monkey house. The construction is  a real eye sore and it displeased me to the point that I started avoiding walking by the zoo. As I walked around the lagoon I saw a white heron. It looked about the size of a great blue heron except for it's color. Perhaps it was an albino great blue heron?
            As I walked by St. Michaels Church a priest passed by me. He was a bit on the short side and middle aged. What appeared to be a homeless black man was sprawled out on the front steps of the church looking forlorn. The priest said something to the man, and the man then said something I couldn't hear back to the priest. The priest hesitated, and then reached in his pocket and withdrew his wallet. After removing a bill he handed it to the homeless man. This impressed me as I have a very low regard for most religious people.
            As I continued down Cleveland Street I noticed a very old, very tiny man trying to pull a very large cardboard box out of his car. Inspired by the act of  charity I'd just witnessed I asked the old man if he needed a hand? When he looked up at me his skin was the color of iodine and he had a bewildered look in his tiny, watery eyes, "would you help me?" 
           The box was more awkward than heavy. When he wanted to help me carry the box I told him it was easier if I did it alone. He unlocked the gate to the complex of townhouses and I carried the box to the door he directed me to. He couldn't have been more grateful and thanked me profusely. As I continued home I couldn't help feeling like a boy scout who'd just done his good deed for the day.
              
             *

             Last night when I walked in the Ale House there were only  a few people sitting at the bar. Buzz Kill was at the TV end, and Ruben Four Toes was parked in his wheel chair closer to the middle than usual. Gracie seemed unusually upbeat. She only worked one day this week so perhaps that was the cause of her raised spirits. 
            Ruben says he misses his fellow Mexican Victor. Nobody else does, especially Victors neighing laugh. Ruben said that Buzz Kill butchered fixing the wheel on his wheel chair and Hardware Nick had to come to the rescue. 
            "Ruben, dare I ask you something?"
            "Yes you may dare."
             "Have you ever been this fat before?"
              His huge lips parted in a tightly drawn smile. And then with gloating delight he said, "once, maybe."
               "You're ass is the size of a pygmy village."
                He made no objection to this evaluation of his girth, however, he did say, "you seem to take great pleasure in making fun of me, is it because I'm a underprivileged minority?"
               "Perhaps. Although if memory does not deceive me, you are the first one to make fun of all races."
               "This is true."
                The principal character in last nights drama was about to make her stage entrance.  Suddenly, and unexpectedly Mrs. Clown appeared in the doorway. She was sober and well groomed. She sat down between Tobin and Lee and ordered a gimlet from Gracie. 
             "Mrs. Clown," I said, "I can't tell you how exciting it is for Ruben and I to have the privilege of seeing you. " Turning to Ruben, "am I correct, Ruben."
              "Most indubitably." 
              "I've heard what you've been saying about me in your blog." She said this in her normal thick Long Island Mafia accent.
             "Allow me to defend myself; I have only said the kindest, sweetest things about you. I know you don't read my blog so some trouble maker had to be selectively reading you things I've said out of context. " 
                She shook her head before she spoke, "I'm over the hill, I'm fat, I used to look good..."
             "I didn't say you didn't still look beautiful did I ?"
             "That I'm always drunk..."
             "I never said you were always drunk."
               When Ruben asked her how Clown was she smiled. "He's wonderful. He has a great new job making a hundred thousand dollars a year and he's in Finland for two weeks."
            We were all impressed.
            She then went on to tell us that Clown has finally seen the light and is determined to turn his life around once and for all. 
           When I asked her if she'd sold her house she said no. "I've been fixing it up."
             "Is your daughter and the baby daddy still living there?"
            "No, I'm there all alone. I did baby sit yesterday for little Kingston."
               "Kingston, that's a strange name," I said, " what's the baby daddy's ethnicity?"
              "He's Mexican."
               Ruben pursed his lips at hearing this, "Mexican, they're like cocka roaches."
               At this point Gracie started to sing a medley of Neil Diamond songs. She is anything but shy and threw herself into her elaborately scripted performance with great energy. Although her singing  probably would have struck most casual observers as having an oddball appeal, not so Mrs. Clown.  While Gracie had transitioned into a medley of Tom Jones songs Mrs. Clown finished her drink and waved good bye. In spite of her vast fortune she once again failed to tip the bartender. 
           Hawkeye continues to be argumentative. He thinks I crossed the line with my Polly Bergen blog. He's a simmering volcano of anger.  

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Buzz Kill Rats Out Faggypants

            Yesterday Faggypants put nails in the table top he rescued from the garbage to keep a small lamp that was also found in the garbage from being stolen. Why am I mentioning something so trivial? Because Buzz Kill took it upon himself to rat out Faggypants to the boss women. So then I had to hear about what an idiot Faggypants is. Trying to mollify her, but in vain, I pointed out that yes, Faggypants is not a skilled carpenter, but that it was much ado about nothing. She reproached him most bitterly and my defense of Faggypants was taken as a sign of complicity. 
           
          Lois called to see how my test results came out?
          "Bad, the doctor says I have less than a month to live."
           "He wouldn't say that!"
            "I told him to give it to me straight. How nice of you to call a week after I got the bad news."
              A pause. "Only a month?" 
             "Or less."
              "That's terrible."
             I expressed my gratitude for her heartfelt sympathy.
             "Will you still be able to come to my party?"
             If I had been expecting a question it was certainly not that one. "If I'm still alive I'll be there. I can say my goodbyes."
              A longer pause. "That's terrible."
              "I was just fatuous enough to think you cared for me."
              "You sound too good to be dying."
                "That's because I'm not dying you silly dildo brain."
              Lois is a very gullible, self absorbed women. I did think she'd be just a tiny bit more concerned about my health than to wait a week to ask me about it. I told her if I'm back from New York in time for her party I'd be sure to come.

            Speaking of gullible, Hawkeye was all ga ga over an article about the Cubs ownership in the NY Times Sunday. He's a hopeless pollyanna and he's convinced that the slime ball Ricketts family that owns the Cubs are doing everything necessary to turn around a century of losing. Of course I told him what a ridiculous moron he is and he reacted to my harsh assessment  of his mental shortcoming in an explosion of rage. The only sport he cares about is soccer and yet he likes to annoy people with superior knowledge of the local sports scene with his inane comments. After the Bear victory over the incompetent NY Jets Monday night he stuck his mean little face inches away from mine and said, "Bruce is going to be very depressed because the Bears won." Untrue, I was not going to be depressed, and being a true Bears fan I have a duty to point out what a load of shit the Bears current QB is. 

          I went to the Dunes for the first time in two months yesterday. The Ogden side seemed in good shape but the lake side needs a lot of weed whacking. A giant mulberry tree that borders our property and the neighbors  had fallen a few weeks ago and crashed on the road. I had warned the neighbors a year ago that I could hear it creaking. Now that's it's gone there will be a lot more sun light in a large section of my arboretum. 
          Gracie, who can't tell a maple tree from and apple tree lacks even a semblance of aesthetic appreciation for the enormity of what I created with my landscaping skills. When I told her my future landscaping plans she turned a deadly white.