Tag Archives: Chicago

This Way

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This Way

This Way

Saturday night, at the behest of DJ and Captain Don we attended a trivia night. Trivia night is usually a large group event and this was the largest that I have ever attended, with about 50 tables, and is usually staged to benefit a charitable cause. This one was staged to raise money to pay the medical bills, of a 15 year-old boy who has leukemia. During this trivia night, there were ten rounds of ten questions each. The questions are answered by the different tables; a team typically consisted of eight people who have paid an admission fee to participate ($25 per head). I figure that they must have grossed $10,000 on admissions alone and probably double that what with all of the extras ($10 for Mulligans, which were priceless, $2 for heads and tails, which we both lost quickly in and $20 for the raffle baskets, more on the raffles later). At the end of each round, the teams turn in their answers and judges then calculate the scores. The teams compete against one another with the top teams receiving prizes. Trivia nights are held throughout the United States, but are particularly popular in the Saint Louis, where dozens of different trivia nights occur on any given weekend.

A good night was had by all. Free beer and wine probably helped with that. It probably also helped to loosen our wallets, which was its prime objective anyway. Anne and I have only done a handful of these trivia nights, but we usually do pretty well, generally finishing in the top 25%. This night was a little different. After a slow start, by halftime, we found ourselves in the lead. We spent the remainder of the contest beating back that pesky table #49 and eventually won it all. Anne was a major contributor to this victory, naturally, but DJ’s daughter, Angela, her husband Louis and their friends Eric and Mary were also major contributors too. I did a little bit more good than damage and not the other way around as is usual, but I couldn’t even define the acronym RADAR. In spite of me and not because of me, table #4 really was the home of the alpha geeks! We all received little medals, some gift certificates and were refunded our admission fees. Anne and I donated ours back again to the cause, because by then we were both feeling a bit chagrined. We had by then won five of the raffled gift baskets, not bad for $20. We re-gifted the spa themed basket to Angela, because she had done so much, what with setting up the table’s team and writing down all our correct answers. We kept the juicer and the movie, foodie, coffee and snack themed baskets and headed for home with all our loot.

Take Me To Your Leader

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Futuristic 1932 Diving Helmet

Futuristic 1932 Diving Helmet

Anne and I were trying to get our daily constitutional in one day last week, when it was so freaking cold out that we elected to walk to the grocery store and back. We figured that we could get our miles in and have a warmup break halfway through the walk. As we were outbound, we passed a neighbor’s house and noticed that there was a paper box in their front yard. Only instead of being one of the normal yellow or blue paper boxes that are commonly found about town, this one was olive-green, with multicolored speckles embedded in the paint. In its window, in bright pink lettering, was the message, “I WANT TO BE YOUR PRESIDENT”, in all caps. I opened the box and took one of the white broadsheets from inside. It was too cold to read it there, but when we got to the store, I examined it further. On one side of the sheet was just the pink headline, but on the other side was a rather lengthy black and white text. It was printed in 12-point Times New Roman. Interestingly, you could see the outline of the strips of text, where individual words, phrases or whole sentences had been cut out and then pasted together, just like a kidnapper would do to write their ransom note. Occasionally though individual letters were capitalized by hand-printing, like at the start of a sentence. All of this cutting and pasting and printing had been photo copied, so that on the sheet that I held, only the faint outlines of the process remained.

Reading the text, it became clear that it was an acceptance speech that someone would give if they were nominated to be our president. There was nothing odd in the speech, at least not compared to its delivery method. Its gist seemed relatively mainstream, full of solemn platitudes and promises. The only hint that I could find for any political motivation to manufacture such a document was at the very bottom of the page and in the tiniest font imaginable. It explained that this speech was an amalgamation of Barack Obama’s 2008 and Mitt Romney’s 2012 party convention’s acceptance speeches. I’m still wondering what sort of message this person was trying to convey. I mean, a lot of work went into this project. Maybe when the temperature gets above freezing again, I’ll ask them. I’m also left to wonder, hasn’t this person heard of the Internet? In 2016, Obama will not be running again for president, but just this week Romney announced that he is going to make a third try for election. This was in response to Jeb Bush’s gathering momentum in his attempt to be the third President Bush. As if, the first two Bush presidencies were such rollicking success stories. Isn’t there a law against third terms? Still, there is the alternative of another Clinton. It seems strange to me that the gene pool for president has dwindled so much.

I’ll tip my hat to the new constitution
Take a bow for the new revolution
Smile and grin at the change all around
Pick up my guitar and play
Just like yesterday
Then I’ll get on my knees and pray
We don’t get fooled again
– The Who, “Won’t Get Fooled Again”

Creeped Out

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Creepy Paul Bunyan

Creepy Paul Bunyan

In Chicago, we visited the Museum of Science and Industry. At the end of our visit there, I came upon an exhibit that was commemorating the museum’s eightieth anniversary. It was an eclectic exhibit that was populated with memorabilia that illustrated various aspects of the museum’s history. One such item was this leering, larger than life, animatronics version of Paul Bunyan, the lumber jack, who startled me with his booming voice when I walked by him. Versions of this display have been spooking museum visitors since the ‘50s.

We took down our Christmas decorations today. Anne and I did it together, which made the work both quick and pleasurable. After we were done, I ran to the grocery store. I was surprised at how crowded it was there, until it dawned on me that people were stocking up in preparation for tomorrow’s wintery mix. The forecast is for less than an inch, but in Saint Louis all you have to do is say the words ‘snow’ or ‘ice’ and people will rush to the store on-mass to stock up on milk and bread. I did get milk.

This American Life was on the radio as I drove to the store. I caught part of a story about a guy, who during high school was terrorized by a bully. Years had passed since high school, but he still could not get pass the way he was treated then, until the bully, Jack Abramoff, made the news with felony convictions for conspiracy, fraud, and tax evasion—involving his lobbying activities in DC. The story-teller finally felt vindicated. He had found closure. He always knew that Abramoff was a bad person. Now the rest of the world knew it too.

On the way home, This American Life was still on. I tuned in during the middle of this segment, so I missed any setup that it might have had. I thought that they were playing excerpts from a podcast entitled, “Life without Leann”. The story that unfolded was about a guy, who had broken up with a girl named Leann. Even though they had broken up some time ago, he just couldn’t let go of her. Through his podcasts he had recruited a cadre of stalkers, who helped him keep tabs on the woman. The more of it that I listened to the creeper the story got. Fortunately that is just what it was, a story, a work of fiction by the writer, Larry Doyle. Here is a link to his website, with a PDF of the New Yorker story.

There are bad people in this world and you have to lookout for them, but much of what we fear is silly. Be it a carnival display or a story taken out of context, after the initial fright, we are often left with something that we can laugh about. The trick is telling them apart beforehand.

A Boy Named Sue

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A Boy Named Sue T Rex

A Boy Named Sue T Rex

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn’t leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don’t blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me “Sue.”
– Johnny Cash

We hit the fabulous Field Museum last week and one of its important, if not its centerpiece artifact, is the almost fully complete skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex named Sue. It rules the main hall of the museum from its apex. As treasures go, Sue is a relatively recent acquisition for the museum. The dinosaur has not been sexed, but is instead named after the scientist who first discovered her in Utah. She is a unique specimen. So, she could be a boy named Sue and like in the Johnny Cash song and learned to fight at an early age. She lived into her thirties, suffered multiple injuries. The injuries that she survived are recorded in her healed or abscessed bones. Whatever killed her, be it violence or disease was not. These factoids were gleamed from watching the movie, “Waking the T-Rex 3D: The Story of Sue”. That is Dan, Anne and I in the selfie with our geeky 3D glasses on, echoes of a similar photo that Jay posted. I did use some  Photoshop effects here. I added a lens flare to give Sue her glowing eye and then used a new effect for me, Comic. I solarized the image of the three of us. All of these effects were designed to obfuscate my n! chins. I must admit that I had way too much fun manipulating these images.

"They Live" in 3D - A Selfie

“They Live” in 3D – A Selfie

Don’t Burst My Bubble

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Dan's Jaynes Hat

Dan’s Jaynes Hat

Dan left today, he flew back to LA. We all got up early this morning to give him a big send off. I dropped him off at the airport, on my way into work. I didn’t get a chance to take a last minute photograph of him, so I’m substituting this picture of his Jayne’s hat instead. Anne knitted it for him and here it is seen mounted on our dining room table’s holiday centerpiece. He got out-of-town just before the mercury began its long decent. I think that the high for the day occurred while I was hugging him outside of departures.

While we were in Chicago last week, we visited the Museum of Contemporary Art. There I bought a wall calendar for my cube at work. This is in addition to the left-handed desk calendar that Joanie gave me. This particular calendar couldn’t have cost more than a buck to make. I paid $14 for mine and you can see a picture of it at this website, where the price is $25. I think that this calendar is a very clever and fun idea. Very few things in life are as satisfying as popping bubble wrap. So why shouldn’t you partake in it more often? How about every day? This poster-size bubble calendar allows you to do just that. Each day of the year has a bubble to pop. There are even bonus bubbles at the end of those months that have less than 31 days. All days of the week and U.S. holidays are marked, plus the weekends are in bold for quick reference. It is made in Brooklyn.

I was impressed enough with the concept to purchase a calendar, but the impression that it has created on my co-workers is even more extraordinary. First off, it is big. It was hard to mount in my cube. Also, I try to time my bubble bursting for maximum office disruption. Yes folks, I’m just seeking attention. Mondays are going to be the best day of the week, because then I’ll have three bubbles to pop. There are also those days that I come back from vacation on, like this last Monday, when I’ll have even more bursting bubbles to pop. Some of my co-workers have threatened to burst my bubbles for me, but their just being party poopers and not party poppers and so far this hasn’t occurred. Being all engineers, many have remarked on how easy it would be to make one for themselves. This would be cheaper and maybe even more fun than just buying one, but they wouldn’t be first and therein lies the value of an idea, which is what I mainly paid for.