Yesterday Rudy, Faggypants and I drove to the Dunes. Two huge piles of mulch, one at the top of the hill and one at the bottom of the hill, awaited us. Son in law had repaired the tire on the little wheel barrow and immediately joined the mulching crew when the work began. I had never worked at such speed before. It  was only out of desperation last fall that I started hiring people to help me with my landscaping. As I look back at the last three years and see what I have accomplished I am  overwhelmed by the magnificence of my achievement. How I did all of this by myself I will let future historians figure out. It certainly compares with the building of the Great Pyramids. Initially Son in Law did the shoveling while Rudy and Faggypants did the wheelbarowing.  I directed where the wheel barrow loads should be dumped and carried the tubs of mulch and dumped them in the hard to get to places. To do this a tub had to be placed into the middle of the wheel barrows and then after it was filled the rest of the wheel barrow was filled. Of course I sprayed the boys and myself with tick repellent. Faggypants started to falter in less than an hour. At the hour and a half mark, and after a short beer break, I noticed he was drunk. This seemed impossible to me. He'd only had time for one beer and the way we were all sweating one beer wouldn't have had any effect on him. The mystery was finally solved when Gracie caught him drinking vodka directly out of a bottle in the living room. Fortunately Gracie had to be at the bar for work and so we made Faggypants drive back to the city with her. At around four in the afternoon Rudy and I finally finished off the pile at the bottom of the hill. We both took showers (it's the best way to get rid of ticks) and then I took a  nap.  We got back to Chicago a little after  six. Rudy is a  helluva worker and I intend to use him in the future whenever possible. Had I tried to do  it  by myself without Son in Law and Rudy it would have taken me a couple of weeks.
                  When Rudy and I got to the bar the gang was celebrating Anita, the Irish beauty, having just become a  US citizen. Stink Fingerling, who's been back from Afghanistan for several weeks, was there along with Coach, Mitt and Lynn. The Defense Attorney and the Inventor were in the window. Mierka was trying to memorize her lines in the middle of the bar. Other than my back being a little sore I felt surprisingly good considering the amount of work I'd done. I had hoped to play golf with McHugh on Wednesday but I still had a  lot of cleaning up to do at the Dunes because of the expected arrival of some of my cousins Thursday. The weather is supposed to be very nice, at least on Thursday. The beach has been closed for a  couple of days at the Dunes because of some strange substance in the water. Fortunately the waves were churning pretty good all day and so hopefully the kids will be able to swim. D-Train had arranged for Son in Law to be interviewed by a reporter about the beach closings on Wednesday morning. Son in Law Paddle boards almost every day so he's attuned to what's going on with the water.
              I saw the good-looking blonde who has the house across the street. while I was at the bottom of the hill with Rudy. I haven't seen her much since she got married and moved to Frankfurt (Illinois). She had unfortunately just put down her oldest Golden Retriever that morning. Other than that she looked great and said she hoped to spend a little more time at the Dunes. I have my doubts. Neither of us have heard from the Greek since he sold his house on the lake.

               After the gang had cleared out of the corner and Rudy had left with the hardware store boys I made an attempt to watch the NBA basketball game. I did not like the way the game looked and averted my eyes from the TV. Irish Chris, from Paddy Long's bar, came in with his cute girlfriend Kate. When he asked me about Ruben Four Toes I told him what I knew. I haven't visited him for a while because of all the time I was spending at the Dunes. I probably won't be able to visit him until next week. Chris said he'd try to visit Ruben soon. The conversation then turned to Chris's former girlfriends. Kate, his current girlfriend is petite. When I told her that she could expect to put on a hundred pounds if Chris left her she demanded an explanation. I then described what happened to Chris previous two girlfriends. Kate assured me that she simply lacked the frame to put on a hundred more pounds. I tend to think she's right. When Mierka got back from her rehearsal the conversation turned to acting and actors. When Hawkeye arrived for duty he was giddy. When he said he was chilly I said, "you're just getting old." Mierka thought it might be a hormone imbalance.
            Hawkeye then said, "How do you make a hormone?"
             "How?"
             "Not pay her."
             When I got home I flopped into bed and slept about as good as I can sleep these days.

            This morning Street Jimmy was the first to arrive at the bar. He said he'd just been awakened by the cops.
              "At the church?"
             "Nah, I was too tired to make it to the church so I slept on some peoples front porch. When the police come they woke me up an' say I can't sleep there."
               "Well, that doesn't seem unreasonable, I mean somebody opens there front door and sees a strange Negro sleeping on their porch, they are probably concerned ."
                Jimmy didn't seem to think it was that big a deal. Later in the day I got a message from Officer Bill , he said he'd heard them running a check on Street Jimmy on his police radio and wondered what the naughty scamp had done now? Jimmy said that the guy who lives down the street and has a kid always says, "hi, Jimmy, but he never give me anything."
               "Jimmy , let me ask you this, if you worked hard forty hours a week, and some bum who just laid around all day smoking crack asked you for money, you know what you would do?"
               "What?"
               "Tell him to go fuck himself, right."
                "If I didn' know him, I probably would."
                 "Bullshit, why would you give a bum your hard earned money. Admit it, you wouldn't. Remember last week when the guy asked you for fifty cents for bus fair and you told him no?"
                 "I don' remember."
                "The black guy who said he was going to come back and rob us."
                 "Yeah, I remember."
                  "So admit it, you wouldn't give a bum money if you had a job."
                 "You right."
                   Faggypants was clearly sheepish when he arrived. He denied having a hangover. When Jimmy sat down to eat his sandwich he insisted there was no meat in it. After Faggypants checked out the sandwich he realized he'd brought Jimmy his sandwich. Jimmy was not in a forgiving mood, "this ain't no meal , now I gots to  to go to McDonald's."

           Street Jimmy has been unusually stoned lately. When I cautioned that he was making himself vulnerable to his enemies he looked at me seriously and said, "to be aware is to be alive. You right, people fuck you up when you can't protect yourself. I don'  wanna get caught with my drawers down." Because it was Fathers Day someone asked him how many kids he had; after thinking for a moment he said, "three, maybe four. I ain't too  sure."
          Mierka's been spending a little more time in the bar lately even tho she's busy memorizing her lines for her upcoming Sam Shepherd play with Michael Shannon and Guy Von Swearingen Jr.. She invited me to a benefit for A Red Orchid Theater at which Michael will be present for a showing of his new Superman movie. So far all of the reviews I've read say glowing things about Michael's performance as General Zod. I won't be able to go because our annual family reunion is Saturday in Michigan.
            Street Jimmy continues to be disturbed by Netti's reappearance in the neighborhood after another stint in jail. "She hustles those Second City kids, I tol' her you don' want her around here, she a dope fiend and she bringing the girl who always be diggin' in her nose down here with her - the girl who always be diggin' in her nose be on heron. (Heroine) Netti gonna bring every drug fiend on Sedgwick St down here if you don' keep her away." Fortunately Netti spends most of her time in jail and so she's usually not a long term problem.
             Faggypants was exhausted from staying up the other night watching the hockey game, "when the games go into overtime I can barely keep my eyes open." As a result of his exhaustion he made an audible sigh with every stroke of the mop. This became quite irritating and finally I demanded that he stop moaning. This only seemed to make him worse. I told Faggypants that I to was not sleeping well lately.
               "How come?"
               "I think it's from insufficient sex, when I had an active sex life I always slept better. "

               While I was sitting at the bar the other day a man with glasses walked in and said, "are you Bruce Elliott." After I said I was he smiled and extended his hand, "I'm William Brown, your Facebook friend." This was a pleasant surprise. William comes up with great posts, especially the ones with graphics, and I'm constantly sharing them with my other FB friends. He's very far to the left and he surprised me no end when he told me that he used to live on an estate in Lake Forrest before his ex-wife and her lawyer got it from him. He still lives on the North Shore and when I offered to buy him a drink he declined. "You don't have enough in here if you know what I mean. " Of course I knew exactly what he meant. When he said that he was a Board of Trade guy I said that all the Traders I knew were all lushes and coke heads.
            "Actually Bruce, the Merk guys are the coke heads, the Board of Trade guys are mostly Irish drunks. The Jewish guys at the Merk prefer coke." This made perfect sense to me. The reason he stopped by was because he'd been across the street at Second City and thought that he might find me exactly where he did find me. When I thanked him for all the great posts I was stealing from him he laughed and said that he stole them too. After we both agreed on what rapacious rat fucks Republicans were we shook hands and said our goodbyes.
             Street Jimmy continues to lust after Anya, " Anya," he said staring at her lovely young face, "you the red apple of my eyesight." After Anya almost blushed I  complimented Jimmy for the originality of his love metaphor.
               Last night when I got back from the Dan Blue Viking Funeral-memorial I sat down with Mierka and Becca. On the other side of me were two Hispanic looking women, one young one older. It turned out they were a mother daughter combo and they were from San Francisco. They had heard about the bar while watching Layover. The younger girl was very aggressive and clearly had the hots for Anya. They kept asking her to join them when she got off work. The young one thru a fit when Johnny Ale came in and turned the S.F. Giants baseball game off and put on the NBA playoffs. I explained to them that the NBA finals had precedence over regular season baseball even if the Chicago teams were playing .
             Mrs Clown dropped by. Before she left she came over and chatted with us. She looks very tired. She said she is still seriously considering selling her wonderful house. Of course I told her I wanted it.
             When Hawkeye came in he showed no remorse for not attending Dan Blue's Memorial. "It was Fathers Day, they were having a party for me."
             "You couldn't have taken an hour out of your busy day and made an appearance."
               "No."
                I guess a sixteen thousand dollar set of custom made bag pipes is not that big a deal to Hawkeye.
                The only Fathers Day acknowledgement I got was a video that Gracie posted on the Internet. Unfortunately I was not able to access it because I lack some special hookup.
                D-Train was about as fucked up as I've ever seen him. He was staggering badly and I told Johnny Ale to only let him have water. Just when he was about to leave Becca and Mierka called to him and so he ended up bothering us for another twenty minutes. When he finally left I told the girls in the future to never again distract him from leaving the bar. As I was very  tired I to got up to leave. Before I left Becca asked me to tell everyone how gorgeous the two of them looked.
              For the record Becca and Mierka looked gorgeous last night!

             This morning Street Jimmy was waiting for me. He said he slept outside next to the church, "I was tired so I went to sleep early." When I asked him where he got the warm coat he said Hawkeye got it from the basement. When I recited my Dan Blue poem for him he said he thought it was very good. When a Strauss waltz came on the radio I took his broom and danced a lovely four step waltz for him. This made him laugh, "you good, what kind of dance they call that?"
            "Waltz."
           "Cool, tha' the kind of dancin' they used to do when Jesus be alive."
            "No, not quite."
           Faggypants was out of sorts , "somebody spilled coffee on me on the El and now my shirt is stained."
              I told Faggypants to hurry because Rudy was coming in at nine and the three of us were going to the Dunes to mulch and weed.

           I had been personally invited to Dan Blue's Viking Funeral by the owners of the Hideout. Gracie had  written down all of the pertinent info and we spread the word about Dan's memorial  in our typical  Ale House half-assed way to as many of the recipients of his generosity as we could connect with. The memorial took place yesterday and had I not been personally invited I probably wouldn't have gone. The reason for my ambivalence was the reaction of some of Blue's friends and hangers on to my brilliant tribute blog post about Blue after  he died several months ago under what still must be considered mysterious circumstances. Before I describe the events that took place yesterday let me first describe  who Dan Blue was: He  was a master welder , a sculptor of  note, nice looking, low talking, hard drinking, sexually ambivalent, affable, delusional and without a doubt  the most generous fellow I've ever met. He walked into the Ale House about five years ago and during the next few months doled out over 150, 000 dollars to the Ale House bar flies. This act of largess is unprecedented in the annals of saloons throughout the land, and was executed at the same  time he was handing out another hundred thousand bucks at the Hideout, which was his neighborhood bar.
            In my tribute blog post I had pointed out not only Blue's legendary generosity, but I also a few of his most spectacular phantasies. Some of my favorites being his trips to South America to take out Hugo Chavez (this hit took less than 24 hours because he was seen the following morning in Old Town and when asked why Chavez was still alive he brushed the question off as a mere technicality. Of course Chavez died of cancer eventually so maybe Blue injected him with the cancer.) A lot of his tales were political, and he was  constantly doing things with Israel's Mossad , parachuting into Iran, freeing hostages all over the world, but these were only sidelights compared to his professional hits for the Chicago Mafia. Yes , Blue was a self-proclaimed hit man. He would often describe to Street Jimmy his latest hits, and after he'd give Jimmy a couple of cigarettes (Blue was a chain smoker) as well as a few bucks, Jimmy would tell me about Blue's latest "hits." Jimmy was thoroughly convinced about the veracity of these remarkable stories. My response was that it has been my experience over  the years that hit men  seldom bragged to strangers about being hit men.
                 After  I posted my Dan Blue tribute blog I received some irate messages, most of which are  now posted with my original blog. They were furious that I had slandered Blue. I found this odd even tho all I had done was explain what everyone already knew about him. So the last thing I wanted to do was stir things up at the guys memorial, but, on the other hand,  I liked Blue and I felt it was important for someone from the Ale House to show up for his memorial. And it was lucky that Faggypants and I went because Pee Pee was the only other Ale House regular who was there, and she  was a  special  case given that she'd spent months traveling with him to New Zealand  and Australia, along with a shorter trip to Paris. Now it is fair to ask why someone who had received thousands of dollars from Blue wouldn't deign to show up at his memorial? Well, Ruben Four Toes, who  received many thousands of dollars from Blue, was out of commission,  Fox is dead, and Blue Velvet, who probably received the most (over thirty-thousand), has had a debilitating stroke, but for people like Hawkeye not to show up was inexcusable. I discussed this with Tim, the owner of the Hideout,  and we both agreed that bar people are a unique breed.
             What made my appearance, as well as Faggypants' somewhat unique is that neither of us was a  recipient of Blue's generosity. He owed me close to a thousand dollars when he died and it took Faggypants several months of harassment for Blue to finally pay him for a months work at Blue's studio -home.
                  The building of the Viking ship was to take place at ten and then the funeral march,  which was to be led by a New Orleans style band, was to take place at noon. The burning of the Viking ship was to take place in front of Blue's former building after the march around the block. Faggypants was still  busy cleaning when I left the  bar and he said he was  going to follow me to the Hideout later after I checked things out and gave him the okay. The Hideout and Blues former building are located in and industrial section of the City a block from the Home Depot on North Ave just before the expressway. The Hideout is surrounded by a huge city parking lot for garbage trucks and other work type trucks and vehicles.  On a Sunday afternoon there is virtually no traffic in the immediate area. I was one of the first to arrive and was delighted to discover that  there was an open bar. I introduced myself to the people building the Viking ship out of cardboard. I had a long chat about Blue with the owner, Tim, who is a very manic guy and who is credited with turning the bar around to where it has become a well known place for all kinds of different musicians and bands. He said he'd been a nervous wreck when Anthony Bourdain brought his Layover crew there , "I was sure we were too divey for him but he he said he loved it. He's a real class act." The clientele seems to be a Chicago version of hippies and hipsters. I called Faggypants back at the bar; when I told him that there was an open bar he was there in fifteen minutes via the North Ave bus. I had a nice seat outside under the shade that was provided by a half grown tree. A few people approached me, among them a guy named Winston who I'd met thru Blue. He said he had read my Blue blog and thought it was cool. When I said some other people didn't agree with him he laughed and said that they were here, and then nodded in the general direction of some men congregated at a picnic table about thirty feet away. A lady from Our Urban Times introduced herself to me. She was quite pleasant and had known Blue for a long time. She said she'd gone to journalism school with Ebert at the U. of I..
              Faggypants and an open bar are a  deadly mix and he was disappearing inside the bar frequently. Because people were arriving in drips and drabs it was decided to postpone the march until one. These were very hang loose, go- with- the- flow people and Faggypants was having a fantastic time flitting about from group to group. My first confrontation took place while I was waiting to get into the mens room, a guy in his thirties standing behind me said he was surprised "you showed your face here after what you said about Dan."
             "I was invited, if it's any of your business, and do you really want to start some shit at his memorial?" The guy then walked away.
             Just before the march started I got into a conversation with Bob Fioretti,  who is the local alderman. He had a nice looking chick with him, who may or may not have been his wife. He was unusually bright and sincere considering that he is a Chicago politician, and had nothing but nice things to say about Blue. Just before the march commenced another guy gave me a nasty look and said, "you've got your nerve showing up here." He was kind of a dweeby guy and so I said "fuck you," and then started marching with Faggypants. The march was great. A bunch of guys, several dressed as Vikings , were pulling the Viking boat on some kind of trailer. They were followed by some brass musicians and a couple of drummers. Tim, from the Hideout, was playing the trombone with gusto. Faggypants was having the time of his life. There's no question that Blue would have loved it. All in all there were maybe fifty people marching. When we got to Blues building  we stopped and several people read poems, one song, and several speeches. Art Shay, the famous photographer ,said some nice things about Blue. Art has got to be around ninety and Blue was a big fan of his. One of the bartenders, Theresa, gave a very nice speech. Faggypants was very moved by it and eventually brought to tears. Why I was criticized for commenting on Blue's tall tales was especially puzzling given that almost every speaker made the same point.
                  The poems were all based on the word Blue. After the second poet spoke I leaned over to Faggypants and said, "Hows this:
                            Little Dan Blue, go blow your horn,
                            The she sheep's in the meadow, the cows in the corn,
                              Oh where is Dan Blue, who looks after the sheep,
                              He's up in heaven, fast asleep.
              Faggypants loved it and encouraged me to get up and recite it. I explained to him that we should let well enough alone. After the speeches and poems a guy tossed a lot of accelerant on the boat and it went up in flames. Other than a lot of ashes there was no danger to life or limb. The band then led us to the bar and Faggypants and I headed into the bar and sat down to watch the US open Golf Tournament. There was nothing I could do to control Faggypants at the bar. I told him if I caught him drinking another shot we'd leave but every time I turned my head there seemed to be another empty shot glass in front of him. The BBQ was so good Faggypants, who is supposed to be a vegetarian, had some. We sat at the bar for about two hours watching the golf and listening to the band. When we got up to leave Faggypants got into a bit of a dispute with the bartender about a tip and some change so I gave her another five. As I was walking thru the crowd to my car I encountered some more  nasty looks but nothing more was said. Faggypants said it was the greatest funeral he'd ever been to. I had to admit I couldn't think of a better one.

              Faggypants and I went to Dan Blues memorial at the Hideout. They were having a Viking funeral with a parade , the burning of a ship, a New Orleans style band, an open bar and eats. I will give a full report tomorrow. It will be a bit dicey for me because some of Blue's so called friends have sworn revenge upon me for my tribute blog if I dare show up.  Stay tuned.

          Faggypants and I stopped off at Subway Sandwich in Miller Beach Indiana and bought lunch to go. It was going to be a long day of outdoor work (at least that was the plan) and we were going to need sustenance. Sometimes the cupboards are full at the house in the Dunes, but that is the exception. Along with my tuna sandwich,  I bought a single chocolate chip cookie for desert. Faggypants, for the most part, is a vegetarian and it was fascinating observing him  explain to the young lady making his sandwich concoction the ingredients he desired. He wanted every cheese they had, and pretty much every vegetable , and then mustard and several oils completed the sandwich.  I had allowed him only two beers before we set forth , which meant that he had probably only been able to sneak another two in, so he  was sharp and alert. Of course he was his usually chatty self, but I made him remain silent during two Bach pieces and one Mozart violin concerto. I really wasn't sure just how I'd approach the mulching and told him I'd play it by ear  once we started. Son in Law and Gracie were there when we arrived. It was sunny and in the 70's. The dogs greeted us enthusiastically as we entered the living room. Of course Faggypants hadn't brought work clothes or shoes with him so we scrounged some old boots of mine for him. He liked the cumbersome boots and within twenty minutes I had him doing the simplest of tasks until I could change into my work clothes. Son in Law has a new pickup truck and a new business.  He sells paddle boards, and gives paddle board lessons. His business info is printed professionally on the side of his truck and he has a rack mounted on the back of the truck so he can transport his paddle boards. All of this seems harmless enough, and it has the added benefit of keeping Gracie distracted from her dog shows.
              The big thing when working with Faggypants is keeping him from getting too hyper. I kept stressing pace, instead of killing himself in less than an hour , I pointed out how important it was that we work for at least four hours. At first we just plodded along, but soon we'd made a serious dent in the large pile of  mulch I'd had delivered. Of course Faggypants took full advantage of the fact that I had a  hundred or so bottles of beers in the icebox. At one point Son in Law rolled up his sleeves and joined us. His added presence had Faggypants moving at double speed and when he finally wheeled an overflowing wheelbarrow full of mulch to where I was spreading it and collapsed on a lawn chair in exhaustion I told him to call it a day. We achieved a great deal and hopefully we can finish Tuesday when Rudy has tentatively agreed to join us. The Cameron family reunion is next weekend and a few cousins will be stopping by on their way to St. Joe.  Of course the weather needs to cooperate. The only casualty was the small wheelbarrow. Faggypants ruptured the tire some how. I hate balloon tires on wheel barrows and hopefully Son in Law can replace the balloon tire with a hard tire before next Tuesday.
           I too, was exhausted. Although I could have continued a little longer from an energy standpoint, my back was starting to hurt. I did do some pruning, and transplanted a few yucca's before I put away my gardening tools. Faggypants had already showered and was wearing a pair of Grace's genes and a red T-shirt that he announced he planned on keeping. It was a touching scene watching Son in Law in the big easy chair stretched out watching the US Open golf tournament , Gracie on her computer, and Faggypants on the couch with the two dogs and a cold beer in his hand.
            Of course before we'd commenced working I'd loaded us both up with tick repellent, and after I took a  shower I announced that I would be taking a nap. After my nap I came downstairs and finished the second half of my tuna sandwich which definitely hit the spot. When I reached for my chocolate chip cookie it was nowhere to be found. All  I had to do was observe the guilty look on my daughters face to know where my cookie was. This flagrant act of greed staggered me with it's sinister overtones and it's pathological nature. Grace was so wracked with guilt that she brought me back an ice cream bar after she'd gone for lunch with Son in Law at Bass Pro Shop. Faggypants was thoroughly enjoying himself. On several other occasions when I'd brought him with me in the past he tended to get antsy and wanted to get right back to the city. However, with all the beer and companionship he was more than willing to wait until six when the traffic would be lighter.
             When we got up to leave at six Grace was in the yard with Son in Law. As soon as I stood up I bent over in mock pain and walked to the door like a very old man , and while imitating a very old mans voice for Faggypants' amusement I said, "back in the  day...." when Eli, the wired hair nut  dog, charged me. He actually was baring his teeth and snarling. Gracie raced back in to see what the ruckus was. "Your dogs were attacking me. They thought I was a little old man."
           Faggypants was screeching with laughter.
              We were fortunate because the Friday traffic, which is usually the worst day, wasn't that bad for the  most part. Of course he was extremely garrulous on the way back, and the only time he'd shut up was when Mozart came on the Serius radio station we were  listening to. I dropped him off in the Loop. He said he wanted to stop off at his favorite haunt, Brando's , and take a piss and have a beer before heading for his moms house in the burbs.
             Clearly he took his time going home because I received two phone calls from his mom later that evening wondering where he was .
              The Ale House was typically crowded for a Friday. Street Jimmy came in with a dozen or more new pairs of socks. I immediately confiscated  them from him and said, "Jimmy, you little sack of rat turds, Tobi's been giving you my good socks for the last three years and now you want to sell me socks. We're going to put them in the basement and when you need socks, you can wear your own fucking socks. " Jimmy didn't like this idea but he had no choice but to surrender his new cache of socks. I made him come down in the basement with me so he'd know where they were. Twenty minutes later he was back in the bar tugging at my sleeve, "I needs to get one of my socks."
            "Fuck your socks, I'm relaxing."
             "I left my pipe in it," he said softly.
              "Jesus fucking Christ, that's all I need. Motherfucker, that's why I don't like doing shit for you, goddamn it."
              "I  made a mistake, so I jus' tellin' you."
                "You're telling me because you need your fucking pipe so you can smoke your fucking crack." So I had to go back down in the basement and get his crack pipe sock with him.
                 D-Train said NY fucked up  fifty thousand pay checks failed to be direct deposited to news agencies all over the country, "they called it a  glitch." He then went on to berate the suits and bean counters that treat their employees so callously.
                Becca looked especially hot. I'd love to paint her full frontal naked with just the pair of high heel shoes she was wearing.
                 Juke Box Joe called Ruben Four Toes at the hospital and says he seemed fine.
           

             Yesterday I drove to the Dunes and did some prep work in anticipation of Faggypants coming up with me on Friday to help me out. He owes me a few bucks and has agreed to work it off. When I got back to town the Defense Attorney and her special guy , The Inventor, were there. It will be the Inventors 69th birthday on Friday and the Defense Attorney thinks that that particular number augurs well for the rest of the year. Clearly a devotee of oral sex the Defense Attorney feels that the 69 position is her absolute favorite way to indulge in oral sex , "although sometimes you get a little to carried away and your partner feels a little cheated."
          "True, it's easy to get distracted."
            By now the Defense Attorney was beaming with anticipation.  Good luck to this randy couple with their  upcoming year of great oral pleasure, I must admit I'm envious. When she described what a great character her mother was I asked her if her mother, who died at the age of 95, was hot?
            "Very hot. You would have loved her. She adored the Inventor."
                The Inventor nodded in agreement, "she was great, I would have done her in her 80's. One of my all time favorite people."
                 The Defense Attorney said that her mother was a nurse in WW 2 and never discussed the war from the time she started receiving casualties. She was stationed in the Philippines and she saw a lot of carnage. When I asked the Defense Attorney if her mom had been promiscuous while she was an Army nurse the Defense Attorney clammed up. After a great deal of prodding the Defense Attorney said that after her mom died she read her diary and in it there were some pictures of a few strange men, "she had beautiful handwriting. " We all lamented the fact that some schools were no longer teaching cursive.
                  Unfortunately the Heat beat the Rockets last night. D-Train was philosophical, and seemed to get solace from the fact that after the debacle the Heat suffered the night before it would be impossible for a sane person to ever again compare LeBron James to Michael Jordan. I agreed.
             
                  This morning I got to the bar early. Fortunately Street Jimmy was there with Tobi so all the sweeping was done by the time Faggypants showed up. I wanted to leave for the Dunes as close to nine as I could make it. When Jimmy finished sweeping  Tobi heated him up some left over spaghetti that she'd made. He claimed it was delicious. He said that he saw Counselor yesterday, "he back in town, an' he big as hell, an' he got long hair..."
               "Big as in fat?"
               "No, big like he been workin' out, when I seen him I said, Counselor, is tha' you. He give me a bottle of whiskey or somethin' I never seen it before." Jimmy then took out a full bottle of Jeagermeister from his bag and showed it to me.
               "Jimmy, if you drink that bottle you're going straight to the hospital, that shit is poison." The more I listed the dangers of drinking the bottle of Jeager, the bigger his eyes got. Jimmy said that China almost made him cry the other day, "she left me for a nigger on the West Side, she breakin' my heart. I hopes I never see's her again. "
                "You just need a new girlfriend."
                "I hopes I never falls in love again."
                  "What about your fat white girl, do you love her?"
                Jimmy shook his head in disgust, "I don' really care nothin' for her, she not my type of lady." He said he slept good at the church last night. "
                At nine-fifteen Faggypants and I were in my car and on our way to the Dunes.

            According to the weather pundits the world as we know it was going to end yesterday. Even tho the sun was shining and it was in the 70's I took their word for it and didn't venture forth to the Dunes. By about three I decided to at least take a walk only to get hit by a chilly breeze coming off the lake just as I reached the bar so I sat down next to Street Jimmy, who was baby-sitting Grace, until the regulars started coming in. Jimmy and Gracie were engrossed in the weather channel. Jimmy felt that if a tornado came the safest place would be would be in the sewer. I cautioned against this plan, "Jimmy, usually a tornado is accompanied by heavy rain and so you'd probably drown  like a rat. " This perplexed Jimmy ;  when he decided that he'd probably have to come up with another plan of action I suggested that he go to the police station, "the cells in the basement would be the perfect place to hide." Jimmy shook his head, "I don' like bein' down there." Grace was busy making emergency plans of her own, chief of which was staying in town and sleeping at her mothers house. Not wanting to take a walk in the now chilly weather and certainly not wishing to start drinking this early in the day, I decided to go back home and read. Before I left Gracie said my niece , Anne Katrine, had emailed her and said that my brother and sister in law had declined our invitation for next Thursday because they preferred to have a quiet dinner alone to celebrate my brothers birthday. Of course I can take a hint and am certainly no stranger to odd sibling behavior.
           I read some more of my visitors guide to Scotland. I am definitely looking forward to the trip almost as much as Tobi and Gracie are looking forward to my leaving. Around six the weather started to rumble and snort so I thought it wise to get to the bar before I got caught in the end of the world storm. As I walked down the street people were starting to scurry for shelter. It didn't really start raining hard until a half a block before I got to the bar. There were a surprising number of customers considering the storm warning and the advent of the Black Hawks first Stanley Cup game. Connie the Crack Whore was sitting where I normally sit and so I sat own at the TV end with Daniella, the shrink. He's an odd fellow, a dedicated smoker, who once the ban on indoor smoking took effect  refused to go outside and smoke and so now he no longer smokes, at least when he's  in bars. He also has another curious  trait, before he leaves the bar every night he orders a drink and then leaves it untouched. It's his signature customer move. Shortly after  he left, Lee from the hardware store, came in, and then D-Train. The Hawks game was coming on and I was determined to try to gather up some enthusiasm for this odd sport. The only hockey game I'd ever been to was back in the 60's when The Golden Jet and Mikita were on the team. Although I didn't know what the rules were (and still don't) we had great seats and it was a treat just watching Bobby Hull skate up and down the ice. The reason I was there was due to my then roommate, Charles H. Lindberg's,  business connections. (Yes, that was his name, and believe me it contributed mightily to his various neuroses over the years). Charles had taken me in after my girlfriend had tossed me out. Of course she had every reason to toss me  out but I would have preferred her not replacing me so quickly with Lazar. Charles was a great roommate, he didn't charge me rent and he loved to cook and when Harry was tossed out by his wife Charles found room for him, and then when my " quiet dinner brother" needed shelter he also moved in,  and finally Indy and Eugene. He was a generous host, but an insane drunk. It was a sad day when he was fired for drinking and we all had to find new living arrangements.
              I lasted one period during  last nights Hawks game before I retired to the other end of the bar. D-Train made it thru the second period before he joined me, "I tried to get interested but I can't."
            "It was more fun when they didn't wear helmets and you at least knew who all the players were. If Patrick Kane came in here again and sat on my lap I would't know who he was." Patrick Kane was one of the Hawk stars, and a few years ago he made the winning shot that won the championship for the Hawks. In one of the proudest moments in the History of the Old Town Ale House Rudy, our doorman at the time, didn't let Kane and his entourage in the bar the next night because we were overcrowded. There was not another bar in the city that wouldn't have somehow made room for this heroic figure, including the gay bars, but not the Ale House. I made Rudy employee of the year for that one.
              I explained to D-Train that I hated anything to do with snow and ice and after last night  I have finally accepted the fact that I will never manage to develop even the slightest  interest in hockey. For those fans that watched the entire game in went into three overtimes before the Hawks won. It had to be excruciating because just a regular game takes forever.
               While I was relaxing away from the TV a very loud tall guy in his twenties came in and sat down next to me. He knew Hawkeye and tried to say a few clever things to Hawkeye but nothing he said was the least bit clever. There were three young girls from Atlanta sitting a few stools down from me and the guy started talking to them in a very loud voice. After less than a minute I asked him if he knew sign language ?
            "Why, am I talking too loud?"
             "Yeah."
             "I'm just trying to have a good time."
             "Try to have a good time without yelling in my fucking ear."
             As soon as the loud guy finished his beer he got and left without saying goodbye to Hawkeye.
             A bolt of lightening  filled the sky and was followed instantly by a ferocious clap of thunder. Everyone reacted in some way. Lee actually hit the floor and put his hands over his head. I told the girls from Atlanta that Lee had PTS from his Vietnam days and not to worry. By the time I went home the rain had stopped.

                This morning  a very tired Street Jimmy was waiting for me in front of the bar. He said he had a good nights sleep at the church. He always sleeps better when he can stretch out but he nonetheless looked only half awake. He said the rain never got to him. Faggypants was also dragging when he arrived, "I stayed up until two watching the hockey game. It was so exciting." I was going to take Faggypants with me to the Dunes today to help me mulch but he was too tired and so we decided that tomorrow would be a better day.