I overslept this morning. This happens when the seasons start to change. Because of my highly evolved central nervous system I'm more affected by the position of the moon and sun then most mere mortals. Since I've restricted myself to drinking Polish martini's and going home earlier, my sleeping has improved significantly. On my way to the Ale House this morning, at approximately 8:30 ,who should I see crouching next to a garbage can in the alley between Cleveland and Hudson, than Street Jimmy. When I called his name he turned abruptly; when he realized it was me he smiled. It was a sad smile. I wagged my finger accusingly, "Jimmy, aren't you supposed to be at work?" Of course Jimmy would have been perfectly within his rights to ask me the same question. Instead he shrugged and walked toward the other end of the alley.
By the time I reached Dunkin' Donuts he'd caught up with me.
"Jimmy, I've been looking all over the neighborhood for you. I was worried that something happened to you."
He gave me an odd look, "you jus' on your way to the lounge, you ain't been lookin' for me. It ain't even eight…"
"It's past 8:30."
"No it ain't."
"Where's your little scooter?"
"Flower store, I needs a bike."
"You can't take care of a bike. You either sell your bikes or they get stolen. A scooter is perfect for you."
"If you gets me a bike I lock it to the post."
"You don't have a lock."
"I gets one."
After I unlocked the front gate Jimmy said Don was still at large. "He actin' real crazy. He say he don' care if he go back to the penitentiary…"
"Great, so he'll just keep breaking windows."
Jimmy said he had an altercation with a big white boy on Sedgwick last night. "He big as hell, an' he be actin' crazy, talkin' to himself, an' he call me a nigger…"
"He called you a nigger on Sedgwick Street!"
"Yeah, he come after me. I wished I had a pipe."
"Well, I don't care how big the white boy is, Sedgwick is not the place to be tossing the N word around. Was he looking for dope."
"He live across the street from Marshall Field Apartments."
"Point this guy out to me."
"I gonna definitely hit him with a pipe."
The Cub fans continue to be the lowest form of pond life. I've never had a problem with the real fans -- the fans that grew up going to Wrigley Field since they were kids. Sure they're obnoxious, and have learned to embrace losing with an almost religious zealousness, but at least they've paid their dues. It's the new, Yuppy fans that are particularly loathsome. These fair-weather fans remind me of the types of insects and reptiles you find under slimy rocks. My friend Pauly Ansell is a perfect example of the new, ersatz Cub fan. He is totally ignorant of anything to do with sports, but now, suddenly, he's got Cub fever. Hawkeye also feigns an interest in the Cubs.
Ronny Woo Woo is a deranged black man who has been attending Cub games in his Cub uniform (including spikes) since the Sixties. He is the personification of a loser Cub fan. He walks around the park making bizarre woo woo sounds while chanting the names of Cub players. I'm really sorry I didn't get a picture of Woo Woo in a Sox uniform in 2005 when he walked into the Billy Goat while the Sox were playing in the World Series. Pauly Ansell has become the Ronny Woo Woo of Hillary supporters. To read Pauly's remarks on the internet, Hillary is the most perfect human being to ever walk the face of the earth. Of course were going to vote for her, but she's the antithesis of perfection.
Last night at the Old Town Ale House a fellow named Tracy introduced himself to me while I was seated at the bar. He was from LA, and had seen the Ale House on Parts Unknown. He was quite interesting and we chatted for almost an hour.
Cougar was dressed casually. She is leaving for San Francisco this morning. As soon as she arrives in California she's renting a car and taking highway 1 to LA. There's a convention she plans on attending, and then she's going to spend some time with her free spirit daughter, Chloe.
I drove highway 1 from San Francisco to LA forty or fifty years ago; I could not tell you how beautiful it was because I'm frightened of heights and was in a state of terror for most of the trip. The drive along Highway 1 in Marin County is particularly daunting. I drove Tobin and Gracie along the narrow, scenic, mountain road when Gracie was less than a year old. I was almost hyperventilating as I prayed to Satan no trucks or cars would come from the other direction. Cougar's ex-husband came in the bar while she was telling me about her upcoming trip. He is very garrulous and after listening to him for over half an hour I told Cougar I was calling it a night. She immediately jumped up from her bar stool and said she was coming with me.
Trumps brain damaged sons. They're into killing exotic animals. The fruit did not fall far from the trees.
Little Miss Flint giving Barack an emotional hug.
Little Miss Flint unable to conceal the fear and loathing of having Trump touch her.
John Kass replaced legendary newspaper columnist, Mike Royko. This was the ultimate fuck you from the Tribune to Royko. Kass suffers from the classic, short ugly guy syndrome. It's not just that he's a horrible writer -- which he is -- he's also a knuckle dragging, ultra-right-wing Tea Bagger. As if that isn't bad enough he belongs to a primitive religion called Greek Orthodox. His heavy, dull eyes are surrounded by wrinkled , dead skin. He has the countenance of an abject reptile. There is a self indulgent moroseness to his persona that I think he affects to convey gravity. The inflection of his voice is guttural. He is not even highly esteemed by the right-wing goons he writes so lovingly about.
I would love to see Barack rip Putin's eyeballs out and shove them down Putin's nostrils and then pull them out of Putin's ears. Trump loves Putin. I wonder how much money Trump owes Putin?
For some reason most people don't recognize VP candidate, Mike Pence embracing Fat-Assed Trump when they look at my painting. I refuse to change the title from "Goldilocks and the Thee Bitches," to Pence, Trump, Gingrich and Christy. People sicken me with their stupidity.