High Speed Wobble

Another Halloween has come and gone. I, as many people have always loved Halloween. Aside from the obvious reasons I really wonder why people are so enamored by this fantastic holiday? I think the core, the most beautiful thing about Halloween is that it’s a free pass one day of 365 that there is no cap, limit as to how bold you can be. I walked through Walgreens yesterday in a green Chicago Blackhawks jersey and green bowler hat while carrying a box of Lucky Charm’s. It was funny, but I’d wear that any day of the year and I have. I just have never really have been afraid to stick out. Life is too fuckin short to be muted. Fuck anyone who thinks you’re too loud. Life is too good to live within other’s parameters other people’s templates of what’s “normal” what’s “okay”. Halloween empowers everyday people to be bold, to be creative, be noticed! I read something one time and it was “If Tetris taught me anything, it’s when you fit in, you disappear!” So it’s November 1st, it would be so great if everyone carried that Halloween empowerment through the whole year. Buy the crazy shirt, show more skin than you normally would. You are too incredible to be mediocre and bland. Have fun out there and be brave enough normalize boldness and fun! Life is Halloween 365!🎃 -Gumball

- Mr George Carlin

"Saloon Singer" is what Frank Sinatra called himself, meaning that lyrics were as important to him as the music. To me “Saloon singer” is an incredibly intimate thing. I feel like there’s a vulnerability of a person blessed and cursed with a gift. Creativity can be a vermin in one’s mind sometimes. Gifts or can be cumbersome and not easily balanced. All of the greats have struggled with addiction and vices, had to reinvent themselves with the changing landscape. That’s what creates the intimacy I spoke of. You may get a man on top of his world at one show, and at the next see the same man numbing his wounds with cocaine and whiskey two years later. It’s performing with your heart on your sleeve for all to see. Mr Tony Bennet said at a young age, “I don’t care if I make it, I just want to keep singing.” Talent has a way of making one a passenger in their own body. They follow fate. Mr Bob Hope told Anthony Dominick Benedetto that that name was a tad too much, you’re Tony Bennett now. Anthony hadn’t planned for that. He woke up Anthony and went to bed that night as Tony! I’ve been feeling such a loss this weekend with Tony Bennett’s passing. I feel bad because I didn’t appreciate him as much as other performers because his music was almost too smooth and tended to be a slower pace. It almost made me stereotype him that he was safe and boring. I was very wrong. If Tony Bennet was a whiskey I’d say he’d be a Woodford Reserve Double Oak. It’s a smooth sipper. Goes down with grace and finesse it’s charismaticly dangerous if you underestimate it. Mr Tony Bennet is no different. He served in the US Army when he was drafted to world war 2. He fought hard but also referred to war as “A Front-Row Seat in Hell” During his time deployed Tony was demoted for breaking segregation rules and hanging out with a Black soldier. Tony scarred by the discrimination and horrors he endured came home a pacifist. He marched in the civil rights effort in Montgomery, Alabama. Pacifist or not, he was never afraid to do the right thing. Bob Hopes work with the USO further inspired Tony to excel in his entertainment career to the point when he was praised by Mr Frank Sinatra when he told life magazine “For my money, Tony Bennett is the best singer in the business.” He won 20 Grammy awards, performed for John F Kennedy, Queen Elizabeth and Bill Clinton. He’s had an amazing life, good and bad, struggled with drugs and alcohol but ultimately fought back and stood stronger. His son was instrumental in his father’s late career successes. Tony identified talents like K.D. Lang, Amy Winehouse and Lady Gaga and shared his stage with them promoting their talents. His love and passion for music was so strong that in his final days he was by the piano immobilized at the end of his bout with Alzheimer’s disease and he came alive to sing his last song he’d ever perform, to his dear wife Susan, the song was “Because of you.” Nothing is stronger than love and music. I respected Tony Bennet because he was the last of the saloon singers, unfortunately I not, until now have had a grasp on his depth and character. I got ready this afternoon showering and getting dressed and took my time because I was listening to his MTV unplugged album and I was savoring each song as much as my Miller High Life pony. I listened to the 22 tracks almost like it was the first time I heard them. He really is a master of his craft. He’s someone we’ve been lucky enough to have in the background of our lives and there’s no one left in the saloon. No one is big enough to fill this man’s shoes. This is last call, this is an end of a truly magic era. Thank you Mr Bennet. Bravo!

Manny’s is a genuine crossroad of walks of life and pleasure. Rich folk eat the same sandwich, potato pancake and blueberry pie that the streets and sanitation boys chow. It’s a social equalizer. We both chase it down with an ice cold green river. You stand up with your tray full and hating yourself some but you gaze at the Jagoffs in the room and realize you’re part of a tradition of this restaurant that’ll have a blue collar table of six next to city hall table of four. Deals are made and stomachs are stretched at this icon and we are so blessed to be a cog in this machine of beauty. Cheers Gumball ! ** Art by Mr Tony Fitzpatrick

1996 Chicago Illinois. I was 18 years old. I now have a 19 year old and a 17 year old that I love dearly. In 1996 I was told by my mom that I need to get a fuckin job. I worked at Old Orchard Mall at American Eagle Outfitters but this was the what are you doing with yourself talk. Trish made it weird some but not without reason. I had to figure a gig out. A career that could provide passage though life. My dad said he’d get me into the elevator union. That sounded fantastic. He built the elevators in Sears Tower and the John Hancock. I’d be honored to get into that line of business. My mom was really fuckin with me though. It wasn’t even June, I told her “Hey, we do well, but we aren’t gonna be to the point where I’m not going to have to work. So give me this summer to hang with my boys. My mom said, yeah I get that so she did. I piloted my 1986 Caprice through countless adventures some how we always had gasoline and beer money. Half way through the summer the Trish came at me hard. She’s all up on the job shit. I’m like Mom, it’s July what the fuck. She’s like “Yeah!! Everyone is going to be looking for a Fuckin job at the end of the summer, and you won’t have one if you wait that long.” She didn’t sugarcoat it, and she wasn’t wrong. So I thought well, I have fun at the mall with my boy Dave but I need a JOB job. If I’m stopping my summer of Metallica, Jagermeister, Cherry Coke, and Mission Impossible I need to make as much cabbage as possible. I need to consult my Uncle Mike. My uncle was absolute gold. He said yeah, I’ll get you at the liquor warehouse at Judge & Dolph in the split isle on 4 ten hour days on 3rd shift. You’ll be able to get booze for cost plus tax you start tomorrow. Oh fuck. Okay. It was awesome. My favorite thing about this job was that I’d get off work in the morning and traffic would be horrendous going into the city so I’d slide by my Uncle Mike and my grandpa for Coffee in the morning. I in that 7 week period got so much knowledge from both of them. My Grandpa Ed Doyle was a former Illinois house representative. Him, my pops, and my Uncle Mike were the pinnacle of Chicago street knowledge. Blue Collar people skills. The art of giving a fuck about your pals. I’d drink coffee I didn’t enjoy because my grandpa made it, and I’d listen to advice I didn’t ask for but I needed it. My uncle would say stuff like “People suck Kev, pay attention to who calls you. When they call you and why. Most people suck at keeping in touch, until they want something. Don’t be that piece of shit. Call your boys, ask about their Moms. Remember shit about their life. This is the stuff no one does. Because people are lazy. Don’t do that, you’re from better stock than that. Take care of your boys. Be a good friend.” Keep in mind I had a Velcro wallet and in that wallet I had a sheet of paper with my “important” phone numbers on it. I had a Mountain Dew Pager so cellphones were still 2 years away from me and my friends. My uncle was right though. My Grandpa Eddie told me, “Everyone thinks our world is black or white, you can’t be more wrong. Everything is just shades of gray. Nothing in life is that easy. You as a man have to pay attention and listen. Navigate the gray. The path will show itself if you’re actually looking and listening.” I had more lessons over coffee with my guys but really both men said the same thing. Life is about listening, life is about love. Caring about eachother and not waiting to talk. Listening in a lost art. Listening is more important than talking. I’m bad at interrupting. I am trying to work on it. I’m constantly trying to be a better listener. I’m still trying to digest the outstanding advice I was lucky enough to get 27 years ago and apply it to my Wednesday. I found in these discussions that if you’re a giver you actually get more if you’re doing it right. Caring is the patch to a rich life. They were and are legendary and I was lucky to have 7 weeks of bad coffee mixed with amazing advice. It helped shape me into the Jagoff I am today. Look after eachother and take care.

I’ve always have worn Hanna Hats for my Irish cap. Ever since I can remember my mom would bring me up to Donnegal imports on the northside of the city and Alex was the owner. He had a thick brogue, my Grandparents (Dads parents) were “off the boat” as they say and had brogues but Alex he had a heavy one, he was hard to understand but incredibly kind and jolly. You’d look around at his shillelaghs, sweaters, candy and sweatshirts and I was impressed with a lot of it, and puzzled by some of it. Alex would somehow sneak up on you and say something incredibly loud and fast, I couldn’t understand the first half then I’d hear him say “Dats why the lads end on the ground in Dublin, day love the heroine! HAHAHAHA!” I’d laugh too, even though I wasn’t sure why. He’d tell me I’m a good lad, stay a way from the drugs stick to the whiskey! A chunky junky I was not. Maybe i have Alex to thank!? My mom would aways get me a cap and it’d always be a Hanna Hat. Later when I was in High School I’d drive my 1986 Caprice Classic up there and Alex was still there, selling posters of Irish Doors and Celtic crosses. Id score a hat and be on my way. It’s funny how people, myself including get hooked into patterns and brands though out life. How many events or states have been through with that same cap on? At the end of they I can say I go with that brand because they’re still hand made in Ireland, but the truth is it reminds me of my mom. She told me the cheapest hat isn’t always the best. She also said don’t get one that says IRELAND on it! You’ll look like an asshole tourist!! Gotcha mom! Thanks.🇮🇪

The great Chicago flood of 1992, I was in 8th grade and I thought it was a tragedy. When I got home my father educated me that things like this, this is a financial bounty given to our union work force. Everyone is going to make a ton of money to unfuck our city.

I’m at an age and size where I don’t think I could ride a bicycle without everyone that sees me just assuming I have a DUI. Why else would big man be peddling and sweating. That’s his court ordered way of transport. This leather champagne holder looks sophisticated, it is sophisticated but if I had it on my fictional bicycle it would seal the deal on everyone’s DUI assumptions. Look! he’s got booze with him in case he gets too tired!! Yeah not too sophisticated. Thats why I stay away from exercise!

I’ve blossomed over my time on this wacky planet into a stubborn old man. I hate change. When Wendy’s offered a “vanilla “ frosty I refused to take this bullshit. There have been a few times a new product variant was superior, but Frostys are Chocolate, and every new item coming out isn’t Wildberry Skittles! So instead of accepting the vanilla frosty, when I’m at the drive thru and I’m asked “What kind of Frosty I want?” I’d reply “Frosty’s are chocolate.” My wife is a fantastic woman. I hear her sigh when I do it. She sighed because she thinks I’m being ignorant to put this poor kid through my passive aggressive nano tantrum. She’s not wrong, but the king of fast food deserts growing up for me was McDonalds Carmel sundae Carmel on the bottom and the top with nuts. In my young husky mind nothing could come close to this frozen heaven. One time with my Pops I was at McDonalds by Lane Tech. They left the Carmel bottle by the register and walked away. My shorts pockets wouldn’t be help smuggling that out of there. My heart started racing as I looked at the Carmel bottle, what are the chances of me getting caught? The old man would be extra pissed that his son got caught stealing the Carmel squeeze bottle, but man to this day, I’m seduced when I see it. Sitting there on the counter lookin sexy. I ultimately decided not to publicly marinade our family in chubby guilt. Later that summer my Uncle Mike stopped for Frostys with me. I’ve never had one at that point. My Uncle Mike was describing it to me. “It’s not a shake but it’s also not as thick as ice cream. It’s thicker than soft serve, you’ll see Kevin.” I scored it and dove in. Holy shit it’s was almost as good as my beloved McD’s Carmel Sundae. What I eventually concluded is that a Frosty is the consistency you’re trying to eventually melt your restaurant icecream down to while your parents order coffee. It’s the perfect icecream texture. So yeah, Chocolate Frosty is I heavy hitter in my fat sweaty heart. Don’t change it! So now I see the “Peppermint Frosty” available for a limited time any your local Wendy’s, Fuck!!! They didn’t, they made a Peppermint Frosty!!!! I love with a passion, peppermint ice cream. I gotta try this. I get a medium. Half way through my peppermint project I’m shit talking myself, because I love this Frosty! Frostys are chocolate!! SHUT UP you dumb fuck and WHY DIDN’T YOU GET AN EXTRA LARGE!?!!!? So yeah I guess this is a delicious way to see sometimes change can be euphoric. So I’d strongly suggest smashing a Peppermint Frosty. They are fantastic.

service people make. 🇺🇸

If you liked Ryan, you loved him. If you didn’t like Ryan he’d find everything that annoyed you, and you’d absolutely hate him by lunch time. He find what annoyed you and when you couldn’t stand him any longer he’d laugh HA HA HA! And you’d snap and tell him to screw off and he’d laugh and somehow someway you’d become close friends. He had an odd set of social skills. My grandfather and my Uncle always taught me to listen to someone, find out what you have in common and use that as a foundation to build a relationship. Ryan socially had the grace of the Incredible Hulk and it was amazing to watch. He pushed people to their limits just to see how far those limits were. Then it was laughter and fun. I worked with Ryan for countless years for multiple companies and we were the International union of Elevator Pranksters. We worked hard on making the job site weird. Using a Bose speaker to play shoop or Whata man or Push it we made other trades very uncomfortable and confused but our days went fast and we’d go home sore from laughing. I think my jokes had a lot to do with Ryan’s abs. I often referred to Ryan as a closeted fatman. I never thought I’d meet someone who loved food more than me but I’ve seen him look at a rack of ribs. Trust me when I tell you, ribs was a passion of his. It was almost uncomfortable. I liked going to union meetings because Ryan would bring ribs over from Billy Boys to the Boozebunker (my basement bar) and I’d supply the bourbon. I remember the last time he came over I wasn’t feeling well and I told him I didn’t need any ribs and he was disappointed, seriously let down, almost betrayed. It felt like I told Kid Rock I didn’t want to be American anymore. He ignored me and bought me ribs anyway, and spoiler alert I fuckin ate them. My point is he was a great friend. He loved his family, he talked about them all the time. He’s one of the greatest men I’ve ever worked with and if you were lucky enough to have Ryan in your life, you knew what genuine love felt like. I love you and miss you so very badly brother.