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.

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

If the HSAS is in fact Orange, why am I allowed in the airport when there is a "significant risk of terrorist attacks?" So Done Here, Buddy.

Have you recently travelled through a major United States airport? You know the ones I’m talking about: Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Washington D.C. If so, you’ve probably heard that robotic voice that automates the Homeland Security Advisory warning. A recent trip home to a certain city beginning with “C” ending in “O” and in the middle is Hicag, got me thinking how Done Here, Buddy this system is.  Let’s be honest, guys.  Does having this information orated throughout an airport actually make us feel more safe? Give me a break, Washington. 1 out 1 people I consulted contend that the “warning level” is always Orange.  When President Bush left the White House, many of us thought that his Periclean style of governing–creating false realities as a way to control the emotions of the masses, and, therefore, garner their unwavering support –would become an ideology of the past. Yet, the Obama administration has done nothing to overturn this blatant system of manipulation.  While I would never suggest that President Obama is Done Here, Buddy, it’s clear that his stance on and the entire system of Homeland Security  is.

Will the IOC’s choice to make Rio de Janeiro the host city for the 2016 Olympics render a similarly tragic ending?

Pastrami Sandwich, Manny's Deli: Chicago

I would like to preface today’s post by pointing out that I am a proud son of Chicago, the city that American Poet Carl Sandburg described as the:

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of wheat,
Player with Railroads and the nation’s Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders

Renowned for inventing the Skyscraper and other decadent delicacies such as Deep-Dish Pizza, Italian Beef Sandwiches, Vienna Beef Hotdogs and, of course, the McJeff (shout out to my boy Jeff Barzan*).  It is safe to say that when Chicago goes, it goes big.  Keeping this in mind …  Roughly six months ago, I relocated from the greatest city in the world to Oakland, California…

… Three months ago, on the eve of Passover–the Jewish Holiday which commemorates the Exodus from Egypt–my good friend and roommate Arlen Ginsburg and I headed to Saul’s Restaurant and Deli in North Berkeley to dine on traditional Jewish delicacies.  Now, my days of eating Matzos for a week straight are long gone. God, if you’re out there, please forgive me.

That night, I definitely felt the hunger within. When the waitress came to our table to take my order, I asked which would be more filling: the Cobb Salad (which, it turns out, was no longer available) or the Pastrami Sandwich.  Now, the menu has two different pastramis, one that is small and one that is large. I ordered the large with one slight change. Instead of getting rye bread, I asked for challah, which I believe makes for a superior culinary experience.  When the plate was served, my face dropped in astonishment at the meager portion which lay before me. Being from Chicago, I am used to such culinary institutions as Manny’s and the 11th St. Diner, places that understand the meaning of “piled high.” The two pieces of Challah bread were literally separated by three pathetic and limp slices of pastrami. I asked two different waitressess to confirm that I had ordered  the large. Both replied that, since I had ordered my sandwich on challah (which is a wider bread and a totally bullshit response), it gave the appearance that there was less meat on the sandwich. I was astonished once again.  I finally requested to speak with the Manager as there was no way that I was going to pay $12.95 for six slices of pastrami.  To my bewilderment, the MANAGER had the exact same response.  During my bickering contest with the manager, I even mentioned that I have been eating pastrami for “a long time now” and there was no way that this met the criteria for a  $13 sandwich.  I finally got my way and was charged for the small, but, not before deciding to never again step foot in such a horse-shit establishment.

After reviewing the play three months later, the call on the field stands–Saul’s Restaurant and Deli: You’re Done Here, Buddy.

* To learn more about the McJeff and other heart-stopping culinary delicacies in the Chicagoland area, check out Titus Ruscitti’s Blog Smokin’, Chokin’ and Chowing with the King @ http://chibbqking.blogspot.com/