Hailing Over the Stream - A Brunette Quearies a Blonde

Dennis O'Mullally's History of O'Mullally and Lally Clan, or The history of an Irish family through the ages intertwined with that of the Irish nation,^{[2][not in citation given]} wherein the author points to the Fir Bolg as "the aboriginal people of Ireland, smaller in stature than the Gaels, with jet-black hair and dark eyes, contrasting with unusually white skin".

O my Dark Rosaleen, Do no sigh, do not weep! The priests are on the ocean green, They march along the Deep. There's wine . . . from the royal Pope Upon the ocean green; And Spanish ale shall give you hope, My Dark Rosaleen! My own Rosaleen! Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope, Shall give you health, and help, and hope, My Dark Rosaleen. James Clarence Mangan

A brunette standing on the shores of the river Shannon yells at the blonde on the opposite shore "How do I get to the other side please"

The blonde yells back "You are already on the other side!" 

Thus, it is so.

H.T. Max Weismann of The Center for the Study of Great Ideas

http://143.239.128.67/celt/published/E840000-001/text001.html

Tales of the South Side: Bubs Murtaugh Goes to Mission

Bubs Murtaugh had issues, as do we all, I know. Murtaugh's issues were legion. Bubs came from what was known back in the day as Scottsdale Area, after the Shopping Center with the Goldblatt's at 79th between Pulaski and Cicero.

As my legion of reader will recall, Bubs Murtaugh lived near Durkin Park in St. Bede the Venerable Parish, played football for Tom Cavanagh at St. Laurence High School in Burbank, got a full ride for football to St. Procopius College ( now Illinois Benedictine University) in Lisle, IL, guzzled Schlitz Tall Boys and reefer-ed his way out of that, got a job with Streets and San and lived with his Mom and Dad. N.B. - click my post title for more earnest and poignant yarns of this sort.

Bubs Mutaugh survived his parents and a savage lust affair with a babe - a busty graduate of Emeryk Zajack's Bartender Academy on Archer in Garfield Ridge and who worked intermittently at the Swap-a-Rama in Alsip. He had title to raised ranch of his parents in St. Bede's and kept up with the growing property taxes and the devaluation of the home and property. He was laid off his work on the trucks by the City and pensioned up. He had nothing but time and some cash to kill.

Taxes were not anywhere near the Centurion's in Murtaugh's Problematic Legion. His boozing and frequent brawls earned him a universal invitation to take his business to establishments east of Cicero, and then Pulaski, and nowhere between 111th & 63rd Streets. Bubs Murtaugh's welcome was as worn as the foreskin on an uncircumcised dry-humper locked in a porn shop. He was losing his teeth due to poor dental hygiene and pops in the choppers and was now at age 59 a poster child for dental implants.

When he and his paramour parted company for keeps, Bubs took stock. He still liked his cocktails, but he wanted a change in his life, but, like St. Augustine, not quite yet.

Bubs Murtaugh went on a toot in Blue Island, Il that became the stuff of legend. Bubs boozed , befriended, borrowed from, betrayed, beat up, and was beat down, by nearly every carbon footprint on New Western Ave. and Old Western Ave. between 119th Street to the north to across the tracks on Western to the trailer park on the other side of Our Lady of Sorrows.

When not closing or awaiting the opening of a joint, Bubs Murtaugh caught a few dreamless winks in bars at closing time, or on the CTA. It was an Odyssey fueled and sailed upon the amber waters provided by the good folks of the Miller Brewing Company.

One night,incidit in scyllam cupiens vitare charybdim*, or between Vincennces and Vermont Street, the sea-monsters and whirlpool of pilsner got the best of the booze blind Bubs. His sense of awareness returned in the lock up of the Blue Island police station at 13031 Greenwood Avenue. He was taken to Markham Courthouse and charged with robbery.

Bubs was in a genuine jackpot. Blacked out he had robbed a young couple of $ 45 and a take-out meal from Restaurante Tenochtitlan (Desayuno Tenochtitlan... $9.50: Steak topped with 2 eggs and a Choice of Salsa(red,green or chipotle),Served with Rice,de la Olla Beans,One Grilled Jalapeno Pepper and Tortillas)and was transported to Cook County Jail.

His cousin from his Mom's side received the plaintive phone-coded message and bonded Bubs out three days later. His court date was thirty-days in his immediate future.

The man dried out. He paced his basement, watched his Boxed Set DVD Collector's edition of the great Matt Helm Series because the cable was shut off, slept fitfully and prayed. On floor of his living room under the front door's mail slot were piles of bills, ComEd and People's Gas red cards notifying him of impending utilities terminations and gorgeously painted presented cardboard notice of a mission given by a Capuchin who had the power of healing. Father Payton Hester ,O.F.M. Cap., at St. Bede's. Bubs could stand a miracle. Bubs stepped in and was prepared to step-up!

Th young and muscular Capuchin said, "Anyone with 'special needs" who wants to be prayed over, please come forward to the front by the altar."

With that, Bubs got in line, and when it was his turn, the smiling scion of Fra Matteo Bassi 1495-1552 - founder of the Capuchins wlecomed Bubs. The smiling Preacher asked, "My son, what do you want me to pray to Our Lord and the Virgin Mary about for you?"

Bubs replied, "Father, I need you to pray for help with my hearing."

The brown cowled friar put one finger of one hand in Bubs's ear, placed his other hand on top of Murtaugh's head, and then prayed and prayed and prayed. He prayed a "blue streak" for Bubs Murtaugh, and the packed pews of St. Bede's joined in with great enthusiasm.

After a few minutes of enchanting and uplifting quiet, Father Payton Hester, OFM, Cap. removed his hands, stood back and loudly and angelically asked, " Bub's Murtaugh, how is your hearing now?"

Bubs answered, " I don't know. It ain't 'til next Thursday."

Ita fit verum et fertur

Hat tip to Max Weismann of the Center for Great Ideas

*Scylla and Charybdis
Ulysses had been warned by Circe of the two monsters Scylla and Charybdis. Also can be meant as 'between a rock and hard-ass.'

Sweetheart, I Was Only Being Kind to a Scared Kid in a Bar. That's all.

On 12 December 2010, following press reports linking her romantically with Australian cricketer Shane Warne, Hurley announced via her Twitter account that she and her husband Arun had separated several months earlier. Hurley filed for divorce on 2 April 2011, citing Nayar's "unreasonable behaviour" as the cause.The divorce was granted on 15 June 2011

The poor kid. It all started on an October night -A Friday I believe in 2009. I had made my way up to the fabled Pump Room of the Ambassador East Hotel. It was about 4:30 PM as I recall - too early for the Commodore Max Weismann and his posse of Steve, Jesse, Yancie, and other worthies, Angel was behind the bar. Angel fixed me a tall soda and lime and asked if I wanted the dried spicy Wasabi pea and cracker mix. " Nix, on that, Angel. I'm waiting for my Angel and she's running late." I dug into my strides for my roll and pinched out a couple of Hamiltons and two Jacksons. Angel, held up his palm, " The Lady on the other side asked me to keep you from getting thirsty."


No sooner had Angel placed my beverage in front of me than a young girl in her early forties slinked onto the stool next to mine. She was good-looking as most girls go, but I got eyes only for one at a time and mine have been locked on only one for three years. I might have mentioned her here from time to time, but she is a private type and not given to the big public stage, if you get me.

The same can not be said for my new friend. We talked for a good hour or so and then I had to beat it and meet the one I am roped to around the heart.

I liked the kid well enough, but nixed her overtures. I had listened to her man troubles and loneliness tales. I left her softly . . . with these words, " Kiddo, only suckers beef."

I tucked a sawbuck under my glass and slide a couple of double sawbucks to Angel on the quiet, "Angel, get the kid a few, but don't let her drive. We'll be back for the Andrew Distel show later. Ask, Max to see that she don't make trouble, or let Maynard take advantage of her, Okay?" Angel is a pro's pro.

I thought that was it. Not at all. I get these as regular as Patrick Cox IRS* commercials on cable TV.

Dear Pat,
Did you lose my number? Did we even exchange numbers? I know we don’t know each other that well, yet we were intimate when I stayed in Chicago in 2009. Was that just a casual thing for you? If so I will take the hint and assume that you don’t want to take this further. If not, you know how to find me by looking me up. This requires you to remember my last name. If you have already forgotten my last name, then perhaps you shouldn’t be calling me . . . Dear God, that you were. You didn't seem cruel. You were charm itself. Perhaps it was my foolish heart, or the scent of Club Man that you wore. I am devastated think of you, Otherwise, I really would look forward to seeing you again.
Yours sincerely,
Elizabeth



My Dearest Pat,
I am so distraught that we can’t ever be together. I wish you could wrap me in your arms and tell me it will all be ok but I know you can’t. I will make this brief because I know it hurts you to see me this way.
Even though you have left me for that singer, I will always love you anyway. I want to let you know that if your woman ever hurts you in any way, that I will be here to embrace you with my unconditional love.

Please continue to love me too even though fate has split us apart! I should not have allowed her to have you, May you be blessed and cradled in the arms of those who love you forever. May you recognize that true love is letting go as I have done…
I love you…
Lonely LIZ


Dear Mr. Hickey,

Hey, what’s up? YOu never call or write; hope you are ok. I only keep track of your doings on this silly blog of yours.

I'm sorry. It is not silly. It is my only connection to you. I replay our few hours in the Pump Room every day. Until you went to meet her.

Where did you go? I was thinking about you today, hoping you’d call or email. Silly me, I guess I am under the delusion that the more I think of you, the more inclined you will be to call, email or stop by for a visit.


Please drop me a note to let me know that you are still interested in continuing this spark in my heart, so I know what to expect. Sorry to sound so disappointed, but you have trained me to think of contact from you as being the highlight of my day. Now I feel like I have nothing to look forward to . . . only on this blog more fool me. You delete my notes and why?

Sorry, all of this is making me a little mad, not only at you for being so silent, but also at myself, for loving you when you may not be interested.
I miss you,
Your Liz


Dear Master and Commander of My Heart, My Soul and All that surrounds it,

I am writing you because I realized that that I didn’t say everything I needed to last.

It’s funny that you should reject me that particular day, because that day, I was feeling that we had never been closer. I guess that was a beautiful delusion.

To tell you the truth, I know you were a bit put off by my request to . . .well, you know. In fact, I was shocked that my overture was met with such rigid moral rectitude.

I am wondering why you would go to all the effort of making me feel so loved and emotionally secure by commiserating with my loneliness and lack of centered self-respect and then pull the rug out from all that I believe by rejecting my suggestion.

Maybe this is all my fault and along I have been interpreting your behavior as a green light to go forward. If so I apologize. If that is true, then why did you encourage me by taking hands in your strong but gentle grip and beaming those understanding and sexy earth-tone eyes of yours. It is frightening me to think that you could be so manipulative as to play with my feelings like that, or that my own intuition about you is so misguided.
All I can think is that you have been giving mixed messages. You must be either very confused or afraid . . . or as posted some time ago, cruel. Why have you been giving me mixed messages? I need to know, because I still love you.
Always,

Hopeful Lizzy


Hey Mr. Smoothe Creme,

Please do me a favor and read all of this letter and think about what it says. I hope what has happened doesn’t mean that we have broken up. I hope we haven’t. It’s pretty lonely around here without you.

I have pretending these last three years, you blackguard.

I understand why you have made the choices you have. I understand that your little singer friend ( I followed her on day this past week, during a stay over at that dredful Peninsula) is the best thing for you. Still you need to know that even though you are far away, I need to think of you and pretend you are here every single moment of the day.

There is something I have told you. I really love you. I can’t sleep without knowing for sure that we still have the future. Yet I am sleeping more to avoid knowing that you are far away. This is the only way I can still pretend that you are still with me in person.

I really did believe from the first time that had we gotten together at that I would not wasted my time with footballers, heirs and Euro-trash royalty and that we would always be together. Please tell me I wasn’t wrong. Please tell me that the love I saw in your eyes was not my imagination.

Can we do this long distance? Let me know or set me free, even though it would break my heart.
Love always,


Elizabeth Hurley

Sweetheart, I'd like to find a razor that don't get dull.


Click my post title for more unrequited love letter templates

*  

The Porcelain Unicorn - A Short Film That Says It All

This summer, Philips and the renowned director/producer Ridley Scott launched a global filmmaker competition dubbed “Tell It Your Way” following its Cannes Lions award-winning short-film project “Parallel Lines.”

The entrants were given freedom of expression and could take up any theme they wanted; still there were two strict rules—there had to be the exact six-line dialogue as it was in the Parallel Lines films, plus the entries could last no longer than three minutes.

Here's the prize-winning entry in Phillips' "Tell It Your Way" competition. It gets my vote for winning entry also. I can easily see how it impressed and touched the judges. Watch it here:



Thanks to the link from Max Weismann

Tales of the South Side: Bub's Murtaugh's Silk Blue Jamies

Bub's Murtaugh loved sea-food. Lent was a year round feast for Bubs. He ate pickled herring on toast made from good sweet Lithuanian bread for breakfast; fried clams and oysters for lunch in the cab of his Graffiti Busters truck; a snack of perch and slaw after work; and Bubs polished off a whole broiled monkfish with lemon butter in his Mom and Dad's home near Durkin Park in St. Bede's parish.

Last year, Bubs' Dad laid down next to his wife and mother of Bub's in Holy Sepulchre Cemetery on 111th Street in Worth Township. Bubs began seeing a lady. Bubs never had a wonderful sense of sight, but Cupid's arrow struck deeply in some muscle of Murtaugh's anatomy.

Against the canons of morality of Holy Mother Church, Bubs invited the woman to move in with him. The woman in question was of dubious virtue and Bubs had but little himself. She was a drop-out of Emeryk Zajack's Bartender Academy on Archer in Garfield Ridge and worked at the Swap-a-Rama in Alsip, where she met Bubs when he was buying Cook County Campaign Buttons for his collection.

After a few months, the . . . woman with whom Bubs shared his abode became as wearisome as the endless loop of NCIS and Law and Order(Sam Waterson only) reruns on cable. Bubs began stopping 'for a short one' longer and at less familiar venues. Bubs' roomy suspected that her relationship with Mr. Mutaugh might go the way of Emeryck Zajack's Academy for her. Perhaps, Bubs was trading up. Most disconcerting and morally reprehensible, but customary in the no-man's-land of unsanctified concupiscence.

One evening Bubs called home to his paramour and says, "Honey, I have been asked to fly to Canada with my supervisor and several of Toni Preckwinkle's cousins for fishing. We'll be gone for a long weekend.

This is a good opportunity for me to get that promotion I've been wanting so could you please pack enough clothes for a 3 day weekend. Also, would you get out my rod and tackle box from the attic?"

Made sense, Bubs loved his fish and walleye and Northern were always nice.

Bubs asked in the sweetest of tones, "We're leaving at 4:30 PM from the County Yard on Doty and I will swing by the house to pick my things up.. 'Oh! And please pack my new navy blue silk pajamas. Hey, you get to free-range cable all you want and I stocked up on Happy Cossack from Kenwood."

Though enchanted by days of Shopping Networks and Vodka Rickies, the Zajack Bartender Academy Aspirant Emerita thinks this sounds a bit odd, but, being the good "friend," shall we say, she does exactly what the homeowner asked.

Following the long Canadian Idylle Bubs came home a little tired, but, otherwise, looking good. The sore thumbed and vodka marinated Mistress welcomes Bubs home and asks if he caught many fish?

The Cook County Would Be Pensioner says, "Yes! Lots of Walleyes, some Bass, and a few Pike." He said, "But why didn't you pack my new blue silk pajamas like I asked you to do?"

The now home-secure Zajack Academy Washout replies, "I did, they're in your tackle box".

This south side saga originated with Max Weismann of the Center for the Study of Great Ideas

Why Ellen Degeneres is no Oprah . . .Well, who is?

Oprah never did anything for me. That troubles me. Ellen Degeneres does even less. That troubles me not.

Click my post title for a palate cleansing dose of Keeley Smith.

Jews, Greeks and Romans - The Feast of the Epiphany -The Heart, Head and Hands of Man

I fail to follow the Star over Bethlehem. I fail every time I fall prey to my personal monsters - arrogance, anxiety and anger. It seems that I have had a lifetime Triple A membership. This morning's Mass of the Feast of the Epiphany was another whack to the back of my ten cent head.

The Epiphany was once almost as important in Christian devotions as the Birth of Christ. According to the Gospel of St. Matthew, Magi witnessed the rise of new star signalling the birth of a Redeemer of Man in Bethlehem of Judea. These wise men or astrologers, or kings followed the star with unquestioning devotion - taking the long journeys from their homelands. Traditionally the Magi represent all the people of earth - Asian, African and Caucasian.

A wise man with whom I have the honor of knowing, Max Weismann -Director of the Center for the Study of Great Ideas - is dedicated to the study of how man can lead a happy life. The Greeks called happiness Eudaimonia (evðaimoˈnia pronounced FEW-Day Monia). Roughly translated the word is a composite for "Spirit of Well Being." Aristotle wrote in the Nicomachean Ethics that leading a happy life is not merely the pursuit of pleasure but in 'living well' - according to arete - or virtue. Doing anything well requires virtue or a tough minded application of our skills and abilities to make something useful and beautiful. It takes concentration and tireless effort to become an athlete, an artist, or a parent. Nothing springs from the head of Jove.

The Greeks it seems to me are the Head of Mankind - the Intellect.

The Jews are the Heart and Soul of Man. It was the Jews who recognized that the power of God lies not in might but in forgiveness, charity and humility.

The Romans made use of everything and everyone that they conquered and offered systematic application of all that was good, lasting and worthwhile. The Romans are the Hands of Man - the great manipulators and architects of Faith, State, and Taste.

Together, civilization offers us a means by which to follow the Star of Faith with Head, Heart and Hands. One or two is not enough. The Epiphany brings three wise men together in an act of recognition, humility and fortitude. They recognized the right path, allowed the Star to guide them without questioning its place in the heavens, and ventured into a journey fraught with perils and uncertainty.

The Epiphany has come to mean an awareness of something that was once hidden. The Star of Faith is not hidden - it is merely clouded by my submission to arrogance, anxiety and anger.

I pray that God helps me allow my membership in Triple A to lapse - permanently.

Blago and the Cardinal - Healing Hearing

Cardinal George said, "Anyone with 'special needs' who wants to be prayed over, please come forward to the front by the altar."


With that, disgraced and silent former Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich got in line, and when it was his turn, the beatific Cardinal asked, "Milorad, what do you want me to pray about for you?"

Blago replied, "Cardinal, I need you to pray for help with my hearing." The preacher put one finger of one hand in Blago's ear, placed his other hand on top of Blago's head, and then prayed and prayed and prayed. Chicago's Archbishop prayed a "blue streak" for Blago, and the whole congregation of Holy Name Cathedral joined in with great enthusiasm.

After a few minutes, the Cardinal removed his hands, stood back and asked, "My Son, how is your hearing now?"


The Goofy Guv answered, "I don't know. It ain't 'til after the Defense wraps, The Feds make their case, the jury decides and Judge Zagel sets the date."

Hat Tip for a great assist to Max Weismann and the Center for the Study of Great Ideas!

Hey, J'eat?" "Naw, J'ew?" - When Barry Met Bibi -Obama and Netanyahu Parlay Games

March 25, 2010 "Benjamin Netanyahu was left to stew in a White House meeting room for over an hour after President Barack Obama abruptly walked out of tense talks to have supper with his family, it emerged on Thursday."


July, 6, 2010

On the White House Steps circa 11:55 CST -


Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu - "Hey, let me know this time , J'eat?'

President Barack H. Obama - " Naw, J'ew?"

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu - " Touching on immigration which it seems is a mutual problem of sorts what with borders, boycotts and such . . .now stop me if you heard this . . .Sid and Al were sitting in a Mexican restaurant. "Sid," asked Al, "are
there any Jews in Mexico?"

I don't know," Sid replied. "Why don't we ask the waiter?"

When the waiter came by, Al asked him, "Are there any Mexican Jews?"

"I don't know sir, let me ask," the waiter replied, and he went into
the kitchen. He returned in a few minutes and said, "No, sir. No
Mexican Jews."

"Are you sure?" Al asked.

"I will check again, sir." the waiter replied and went back to the kitchen.

While he was still gone, Sid said, "I cannot believe there are no Jews
in Mexico. Our people are scattered everywhere."

When the waiter returned he said, "Sir, no Mexican Jews."

"Are you really sure?" Al asked again. "I cannot believe there are no
Mexican Jews."

"Sir, I ask everyone," the waiter replied exasperated. "We have orange
Jews, prune Jews, tomato Jews and grape Jews, but no one ever hear of
Mexican Jews!"

President Barcak H. Obama - " So, there are no Mexican Jews."


Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu - " I Gaza go!"


Yep.

With an assist from Max Weismann -Center for the Study of Great Ideas

Max Wesimann Happy Birthday - The Pump Room's "Most Interesting Man"

Happy Birthday to Max Weismann*, philosopher, classicist, architect, bon vivant, raconteur, discerning pintsman, and Director of The Center for the Study of Great Ideas.

Max Weismann is also the Commodore of Chicago's Ambassador East Pump Room. His Station is at the northeast corner of the elegant horse shoe bar and from his perch he dispenses good will and jambs his long athletic arm deeply into his pockets - to the elbows mind you - to bring coin of the Republic in saloon largess only matched by Boz O'Brien -owner of Midway Airport's Reilly's Daughter Pub.

Max makes Henry Kissinger go bashful

Brian Erlacher was sacked by Max

Jim Thome asks Max to watch him in the cage

Mayor Daley opens his mail

The Lincoln Park Zoo sings to Max at Christmas

The Black Hawks sing Chelsea Hammer whenever Max drops a cocktail napkin to catch the eye of a Swedish Stewardess

Max gets tips from bartenders

Max Weismann uses only the vowels he truly needs

Max never needs Tom Skilling - clouds part with his advent


When it is raining, it is because he is sad.

Even his parrot's advice is insightful.

If there were an interesting gland, his would be larger than most men's entire lower intestines.

His shirts never wrinkle.

He is left-handed. And right-handed.

Even if he forgets to put postage on his mail, it gets there.

He once knew a call was a wrong number, even though the person on the other end wouldn't admit it.

You can see his charisma from space.

Max Weismann is my friend - Happy Birthday, Max!


*

Max Weismann is an American philosopher and a long time friend and colleague of Mortimer Adler, with whom he co-founded the Center for the Study of the Great Ideas in Chicago. He is director and president of the Center and has dedicated his time and talents to promoting the philosophical and pedagogical ideas of Dr. Adler. He also compiled, edited and published, How To Think About the Great Ideas: From the Great Books of Western Civilization, a 600 page tome of never published work from Adler’s television series, The Great Ideas. Weismann serves as chairman of the Great Books Academy [over 3.000 students] and is professor of philosophy at Rushmore University.[1]

Prior to his career in philosophy and education with Dr. Adler, Mr. Weismann was a consultant in the field of architecture, construction management and exhibit design and fabrication. He worked on famous projects like the Century 21 Exposition, 1964 New York World's Fair and Expo 67, with such notables as Walt Disney, Frank Lloyd Wright, Buckminster Fuller, Mies van der Rohe, Louis I. Kahn, Paul Rudolph, Marcel Breur, José Luis Sert, Edward Durell Stone, Minoru Yamasaki, Harry Weese, Moshe Safdie, Jacques Yves Cousteau, Alexander Calder, and Edward L. Barnes. Mr. Weismann oversaw the development and construction of the Chicago Botanic Garden.

Weismann also invented a revolutionary color imaging system, that was used worldwide in the fields of color proofing and printing, graphic design, television and advertising.

italics - http://symbii.com/stories.php?sid=618

Super le truc, merci! From Max Weismann - Bon Vivant & Commodore de Pump Room

I tried this on a Blatz Tall Boy - to no avail.

Vous avez soif, pas de tire bouchon mais une paire de chaussure? Parfait ! vous pouvez ouvrir votre bouteille de vin !! REGARDEZ ;)

New York Strangles the Puny Breath Out of Chicago - The Pump Room to be the Chump Room?

Photo -Stairway to Heaven (Sun-Times photo by Scott Stewart)

Maceys is Marshall Fields but they expect Chicagoans to buck-up for the Maple Room? It is awful by the way. The Day Marshall Fields fired every woman on the Christmas Frango Mint Massacre, I stopped tossing coin at the venerable store - it was owned by Canadians anyway. Then Macey's smugly boarded and looted the Flagship Store of Chicago.

Now, thanks to the great Dave Hoekstra ("You Ain't Much, If You Ain't Dutch")Chicagoans get a head's up on the latest Big Apple strangulation of a Chicago Icon - and I don't mean Carol Marin.

The Pump Room of the Ambassador East is going south. Did these eedjits ask Max Weismann? Angel the long-time barman? Businessman Steve Swederlow? Chop House Owner Joe Sullivan? Any of the hundreds of patrons who drop Hundred Dollar Bills on the bar, even though most prefer the swipe card? Nah.

My question - Did the Due Dillinger, er Dilligence Sub-Committee, bother to talk to staff or the the hundreds of patrons who gather in the Pump Room every weekend?

" Hi, I'm Ian Schrager! I could care less about you, your City, this pile of rocks, much less the Jumping Pump Room! Why don't you and your Hundo Stuffed Gold Coast Wallets take a hike? How's that question?"

January 4, 2010



BY DAVE HOEKSTRA Sun-Times Columnist


Chicago cabaret singer Nan Mason includes "One for My Baby (One More For the Road)" in her repertoire. Chances are Mason will include the Sinatra classic on Jan. 30 when she makes her final appearance at the legendary Pump Room bar and restaurant.


Mason's contract has not been renewed, and the restaurant is being downsized.


"Like other hotels in the Chicago area we've had to rethink our fine dining experience," said Paul Lauritsen, general manager of the Ambassador East, home of the Pump Room.


"Four- and five-diamond restaurants have had to rethink the public's willingness to go through with service and menu price in these economic times. The bar will remain open and we will feature a lighter bistro menu. There will be no seating in the main dining room."


It will sit empty except for special occasions.


The New York-based Ian Schrager Co. is bidding to buy the Ambassador East from the current owners, local developers Peter Dumon and David Bossy. Schrager is a co-founder of the Studio 54 nightclub in New York that revolutionized the late 1970s disco dance scene.


They did not sing "One for My Baby" at Studio 54.


The Pump Room opened on Oct. 1, 1938. It thrived on a celebrity culture that no longer exists.


Original owner Ernie Byfield recruited celebrities to sparkle in the dimly lit elegance of the Pump Room. Celebrites stayed over in Chicago for a day or two instead of rushing to a private jet. The late Sun-Times columnist Irv Kupcinet worked from Booth One in the 225-seat restaurant. The original Booth One is in storage at the Chicago History Museum .


The Pump Room had a declared style. Situated on the north end of Rush Street , once known as "the Street of Dreams," the Pump Room was a place where those dreams came true. Anyone could be like Bogie and Bacall, who stopped at the Pump Room en route to Hollywood the day after they wed in May 1945.


"Ernie invited Essee and me to join the Bogarts at table No. 1," Kupcinet recalled in his 1988 memoir Kup (A Man, An Era, A City). "What I remember best was the lovelight in the eyes of both Bogie and Baby."
The Pump Room could do that to you.


"The Ian Schrager plan is not a done deal yet," Lauritsen said. "I do know it is his intention to renovate the hotel and the Pump Room. We don't know if it still will be called the Pump Room."


A New York spokeswoman for Schrager had no comment.

2010 Christmas Carols for the Pschologically Challenged - Get the Jump on Next Yule

1. SCHIZOPHRENIA : Do You Hear What We Hear?

2. AMNESIA : I Don't Know If I'll Be Home for Christmas.

3. NARCISSIST : Hark the Herald Angels Sing-All About Me .
4. MANIC : Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants, and . . .

5. MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER : We Three Queens Disoriented Are.

6. PARANOID : Santa Claus Is Coming To Get Me.

7. BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER : Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire.

8. FULL PERSONALITY DISORDER : You Better Watch Out! I'm Gonna cry; I'm Gonna Pout! -- Maybe I'll Tell You Why .

9. OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER : Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells . . .

10. AGORAPHOBIA : I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, but Wouldn't Leave My House..

11. SENILE DEMENTIA : Walking in a Winter Wonderland -- Miles from My House in My Slippers and Robe

12. OPPOSITIONAL DEFIANCE DISORDER : I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus...so I Burned Down the House.

13. SOCIAL ANXIETY DISORDER : Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, While I Sit Here and Hyperventilate

14. ATTENTION DEFICIT DISORDER : We Wish You . . . Hey Look!!! It's Snowing!!!

Huge hat tip to Max Wesmann of the Center for the Study of Great Ideas

Happy New Year! Happy and Productive and Above All Else Safe in 2009 and 2010!

May This New Year Bring all of us Happiness, Fulfillment, Prosperity ( remember that one), and, God Help Us, Peace.

God gave us another 365 days to do all that we are meant to do. That is a Blessing!

God Bless You All!

This great faux Edwardian Chap comes fro Max Weismann of the Center for the Study of Great Ideas! Happy New Year, Max - and all the Gang at the Jumping Pump Room!

WHY MEN SHOULD NOT TAKE MESSAGES

Max Weismann's Letter to Secretary Arne Duncan - Right America's Moral Compass With Great Ideas

Secretary Arne Duncan
United States Secretary of Education
LBJ Education Building, Room 7W311
400 Maryland Avenue, SW
Washington, DC 20202

Dear Secretary Duncan:
I reside in Chicago and I am a well known moral philosopher in the field education and I am the protégé of Dr. Mortimer J. Adler.
.
U.S. Attorney General Holder: "We want to listen to educators, parents, and experts in the field, and find out the best ideas for addressing this urgent problem. We're not interested in just scratching the surface or focusing on generalities, and as we delve into this problem we're not going to protect any sacred cows. We're here to learn firsthand what's happening on our streets so we can devise effective solutions."

As long as you treat violence, drug/alcohol addiction, vicious behavior, etceteras as the problem, instead as a symptom of a moral problem, you are not really addressing the crisis.

Whenever there is something bad or wrong in our communities, cities, states, it is because we (citizens & parents) let it get that way.

Most Americans have lost their moral compass and we are in lock-step with the cultural trajectory of ancient Rome.
When the word education is used today, vocation is meant. Only a true liberal education can save us and that is not even a guarantee.

Our schools are not turning out young people prepared for the high office and the duties of citizenship in a democratic republic. Our political institutions cannot thrive, they may not even survive, if we do not produce a greater number of thinking citizens, from whom some statesmen of the type we had in the eighteenth century might eventually emerge. We are, indeed, a nation at risk, and nothing but radical reform of our schools can save us from impending disaster. Whatever the price we must pay in money and effort to do this, the price we will pay for not doing it will be much greater.

Cordially,

Max Weismann,
President and co-founder with Mortimer Adler, Center for the Study of The Great Ideas and Chairman, The Great Books Academy (3,000+ students)

Cc: Eric Holder
Mayor Richard M. Daley

This Budweiser Ad is For You! 'L of an Ad and Beatles Others Hollow

Chicago's "L" says it all. Budweiser is a beer and pretty much a crummy one. De Gustibus Non Est Disputandum. Bud never did anything for me, but the "L" was a huge part of my life.

I rode the "L" every day from 1967-1975 as a student and to and from my many jobs. I got on the 63rd Street "L" at Loomis from 1967 -1971 and then at Ashland and rode it to Loyola University's Lewis Towers and Lake Shore campi.

Budweiser was consumed by many folks, but always made me gag. Hamm's, Schlitz, Meister Brau, Blatz, Drewery's, Old Style, Buckhorn, Grain Belt, Stroh's, Rhinelander, Pabst, Point, Leinenkugel's, Huber, and even Olympia beers went down with ease. Budwesier and Miller offerings, it seemed to me, would gag a maggot. Clysdale's and Winter Jingle Bell ads notwithstanding, I never understood the mass appeal of Budweiser.

However, the ad agency that fused the St. Louis Beer Giant's soapy product and Chicago's singular cultural icon - featured in Bellow, Farrell, Algren, Dreiser, and Fuller novels, Chicago Blues numbers and in every movie with a Chicago location, - the "L" - into a sharp and compelling visual and added a cover of a particularly flabby Beatles number. It all somehow works.

Click my post title for You Tube Link!

H/T to Max Weismann of Center for the Study of Great Ideas.

http://www.encyclopedia.chicagohistory.org/pages/2468.html

Max Weismann's Letter to George - Orwell

Letter to George Orwell

RE: Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984)

Dear George,

Many of us Americans scoffed at your book when it came off the press in 1949. Now 60 years later, events are occurring that sadly give us pause and respect for your early vision.

Alas, your terms "Big Brother" and "Newspeak" reflect the direction of our current society of excessive governmental paternalism, control and the dangerous absence of a real press.

Unless we wake up as citizens, I'm afraid we will end up as your Winston Smith.

Best regards,

Max Weismann

Pat Hickey's Labor Confessio -Why I am Not in the Trades - It's Work!

Behold His Handiwork! Things Pat Hickey Fixed: He is no plumber, no engineer, no electrician, no mechanic and certainly no cosmetic surgeon!

Do click my post title for the link to the great caveat to Labor and Joel Kotkin's Politico piece. H/T - Max Weismann & There I Fixed It!

Hillel's Angels ! Would the Sun Times Editorial Board Actually DoThis? A Rhetorical Question

A tough looking biker was riding by Lincoln Park zoo, when he saw a little girl leaning into the lion's cage. Suddenly, the lion grabbed her by the cuff of her jacket and tried to pull her inside to slaughter her, under the eyes of her screaming parents.

The biker jumped off his bike, ran to the cage and hit the lion square on the nose with a powerful punch.

Whimpering from the pain the lion jumped back and let go of the girl. The biker then took her to her terrified parents, who thanked him endlessly.

A reporter saw the whole scene, and addressing the biker, said, 'Sir, this was the most gallant and brave thing I saw a man do in my whole life.'

'Why, it was nothing,' said the biker, really. The lion was behind bars. I just saw this little kid in danger, and acted as I felt right.'

'I noticed a patch on your jacket,' said the journalist.

'Yeah, I ride with a Jewish motorcycle club, Hillel's Angels' the biker replied.

'Well, I'll make sure this won't go unnoticed. I'm a journalist with the Sun Times, you know, and tomorrow's papers will have this on the front page.'

The following morning the biker bought the paper to see if it indeed brought out the news of his actions. On the front page was the headline:

ISRAELI GANG MEMBER ASSAULTS AFRICAN IMMIGRANT AND STEALS HIS LUNCH.

H/T - Max Weismann -Center for the Study of Great Ideas