Something needs to be said about the buddy who deposits debris, which clearly resembles fecal matter, in a water fountain. Something needs to be said, my friends, because I witnessed said transgression last week while attempting to quench my thirst at Chicago’s O’hare International Airport. The object, which I promptly deduced to be chewing tobacco, got me thinking which act is more Done Here, Buddy: leaving chewing tobacco or ACTUALLY dropping a deuce in a public water fountain.

After several days of deep analysis, I have concluded that leaving chewing tobacco is far worse. Here’s why. If a person drops fat in a public water fountain, we can surmise that the individual is either a mentally-challenged thrill seeker who doesn’t know any better, or, even, a rebellious  artist protesting air travel. The individual would also need to be commended for their ability to stay hoisted atop the water fountain for the commensurate duration to perform such a bodily function. On the other hand, the individual who leaves the chewing tobacco is making no statement whatsoever, except for the fact that he or she is totally Done Here, Buddy.

I'll let you decide who is more Done Here, Buddy - the transgressor or O'hare Airport's custodial staff.

Previously beloved by Chicagoans and baseball fans around the globe for blowing kisses and his perpetual crushing of Dong, Sammy Sosa once again finds himself embittered in turmoil. It’s no doubt that, once a pro athlete’s career comes to an end, he or she longs to reclaim their place in the limelight. Once regarded as infallible demagogues, retired athletes often wither away as forgotten memories of the past.   Yet, not even this die-hard sports fan could have imagined that Sosa’s cry for help would become this desperate, this Done Here, Buddy:

Dear, God. Say it ain't so, Sammy. Sosa as photographed during a November 4th event in Las Vegas.

When questioned if he was trying to impersonate the late Michael Jackson, Sosa quickly shot down the notion, suggesting that it’s “a bleaching cream that I apply before going to bed and whitens my skin some.” Whoa, Sammy. It looks like the cream has whitened your skin more than “some.” Time to put the cream back in the cupboard, Sammy…deep in the cupboard.

What Sosa used to look like. Enough said.

Why is the word "speed" here?

What, exactly, is Monsanto?

Is it a multinational corporation headquartered  in Creve Coeur, Missouri that dominates the world’s food market? Is it a company that aims to exploit innocent farmers and the mind & bodies of consumers everywhere? Is it a company that is officially and utterly Done Here, Buddy?

Or, as states its website, is Monsanto an agricultural company that applies innovation and technoloblah to blah around the blah while producing blah blah blah blah?

Michael Pollan and Eric Schlosser’s newest film, Food Inc., would have you believe that  these “so called” industrial food pioneers, and receivers of repetitious Liberal D, are definitely faking the funk on a nasty dunk. You might be asking yourself, which dunk is Monsanto faking? Well, one thing’s for sure, it’s definitely not the windmill. But, contend the movies co-directors, it may have something to do with Monsanto being the world’s leading producer of genetically engineered seeds. Then again, Monsanto’s doneness is also rooted in its regularly screwing over of small, independently owned farms. Perhaps the real answer to this question has nothing to do with the proceeding hypotheses and has everything to do with the fact that Monsanto’s current CEO shares a name with famed British Actor, Hugh Grant.

If you’re still not convinced that Monsanto is Done Here, Buddy, remember this. The cream cheese Shaq spreads on his bagel is definitely pure organic.

–Sweater Guy

Dear Readers:

In effort to promote meaningful and honest dialogue, the Sweater Guy management team thought best to publish a female reaction to No Title Necessary, posted October 27th.

The following video will shock you. If it doesn’t, You’re Done Here, Buddy.

Sincerely,

Sweater Guy

How Done Here, Buddy is it when a conversation between new acquaintances reaches that awkward moment when the only remaining question is, “what do you do for a living?” Perhaps my current employment predicament leaves me feeling slightly more sensitive to such a topic, but I can’t help but cringe every time this inquiry is made. When asked, it comes in the form of terrible desperation. The feeling one gets when asked this question is analogous to the impending doom Odysseus must have felt when Calypso forbid him to leave her island. Wanting to control our own fate, this question reminds us that there is something greater holding us back, disabling us from pursuing our true dream. In this case, that dream is a genuine conversation.  As Harvey Dent so eloquently states, “the night is always darkest before the dawn.” Be strong, fellow life friends. There are brighter  days ahead. We’re all in this together, buddy.

To learn what inspired today’s post, please click here.

I am writing to introduce myself and apply for the Head Coaching position with the Chicago Bulls. I have no previous experience coaching at the professional level. In addition, I have zero previous experience coaching basketball of any kind. I did, however, score 29 points in a Seventh grade basketball game. It may be worth mentioning that I learned about this opening from Bill Swerski, who is a long time family friend.

I am fluent in written and spoken Mandarin Chinese and Spanish. Having worked as the Training Specialist at the Westin Beijing Financial Street, I have a proven track record of designing game-time strategies whose sole purpose is total domination of everything. While I may not be able to teach the starting five the intricacies of the motion offense, I can guarantee that all bench players will be conversational in Mandarin Chinese by the All Star Break. In addition, I was twice selected as an All-Conference soccer player and voted by my teammates to be captain of the Varsity Soccer team at the Francis W. Parker School.  These experience have provided me with the adequate leadership skills to take the Chicago Bulls to the “next level.”

To schedule an interview, please contact my business manager, Goldstone, on Thursdays and Sundays between the hours of 8:00am – 8:15am EST. Please know that I appreciate the Chicago Bulls considering me as a candidate for this position, and I look forward to receiving your reply during stated business hours. If, for any reason, you should contact me outside the allotted time period, I will be forced to terminate my application with the Chicago Bulls.

Best regards,

Sweater Guy

To all my avid readers out there, sorry for the delay, but Halloween hit pretty hard this year. Personally, I went as a Tibetan Buddhist Monk, and, needless to say, I think that it was my best halloween costume since third grade when I went as Robin of Locksley.

That said, today’s topic will bring us back into the full swing of things and is completely unrelated to Halloween.  How Done Here, Buddy is it when friends use packing as an excuse for not being able to hang out? A typical interaction might sound something like this. “Hey, bro. What are you up to tonight? Some friends from work are having a house party and there’s gonna be hella dope girls there.” A Done Here, Buddy’s response probably goes, “Sorry, dude. I’d love to hang out, but I have to pack.”

Give me a break, guys. Lets ask ourselves a couple of questions here:  1) how long does it actually take to pack a bag? 2) Am I Done Here, Buddy if I answered more than 20 minutes? If, in fact, it takes you more than 20 minutes to pack your bag, then it’s a no-doubter on to Waveland. You’re Done Here, Buddy.