Random Thoughts: June, 2014

It is strange on how time not only heals all wounds--- which, by the way, it doesn't--- but, how with the passage of a certain amount of time, a controversial person somehow gets his or her own image all cleaned up and polished. I say this because this morning I saw the new and improved Bill Clinton on TV. He was talking as the elder statesman, commenting on world affairs and his opinion on life. That is normal for an ex-Commander And Chief. Many refuse to surrender the spotlight and go around courting attention to feed their massive egos. And, no one better has ever exhibited this practice than William Jefferson Clinton. His record in office can now be judged, for it is common procedure for historians to measure a President and his job performance twenty or so years after leaving office. Clinton has been gone around thirteen years but it is fair to start judging what he did and how he did. Naturally, what strikes us right up front is his sex scandal. There are those who still insist that they do not know what he did wrong and still blame the Republicans for a witchhunt. What he did wrong is simple: he lied under oath during a deposition involving a sexual harassment case from a woman, Paula Jones, that was suing him. This affair, along with many others that he had, including his most celebrated liaison, Monica Lewinsky, are no offenses to the law. They were personal decisions made that did not affect his job performance. But, and this is where he was in the wrong, he did lie about it with his left hand pressed on the Bible and his right hand up in the air stating that he would tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Well, he didn't tell the truth and this was a felony. Whether he lied about his affair, or, he lied about cheating on his taxes, or whatever reason someone will lie under oath, constitutes a crime. And, just because he was President does not mean he was above the law [shades of Richard Nixon and Watergate]. He was rightly impeached but not thrown out of office. Many people in history have gone to jail for the illegal act of lying under oath, so, it was completely appropriate that the Republicans---- who, granted, had a political agenda against him, as the Democrats had an agenda in saving him from removal from office---- applied the Constitutional right of impeachment of a sitting President. He escaped being thrown out of office by his fingernails and served the rest of his term, about three years, as a wounded and much-maligned and much-hated President. And, his wife, Hillary, the Yoko Ono of politics, was even more hated. She was seen, rightly, as a lying, cold-hearted, devious person, who would trample over anyone who might get in the Clintons path. Throughout her husband's eight years in office, she was always right there, beside him [unless there was an intern by him] looking with that Manson Family look to her, like she was a shark about to pounce on the tasty swimmer who was floating by. Her list of scandals tops his: Whitewater and the illegal land deals, the disappearing and sudden reappearing of White House records of the people who were political enemies of the Clinton Regime, her much-bungled handling of Health Care Reform, the mysterious and still unsolved death of close family friend, Vince Foster, and her rush to judgment in the Lewinsky scandal by blaming the ''vast right-wing conspiracy'' against Victim Bill. All of these, along with her personal demeanor of looking like a bitch, polarized her with much of the world. To her credit, she did become a Senator from New York after her husband left office, and later, Secretary Of State under Obama [ Barack may have been practicing the old ''Godfather'' saying of, ''Keep your friends close but your enemies closer'']. So, these two, always slimy to listen to, are now being made over by the media--- mostly, liberal--- in an attempt to position Hillary for another Presidential run in 2016. The audience this morning was in full support of her and him. Clearly, what they are both saying is that if we elect her, we get him again. She is the only viable candidate so far among the Democrats. Stranger things have happened. We may very well have the Clampetts again riding high in the White House........As I write this, The Gay Pride Parade is going on in Chicago. This parade seems to get stronger every year, but, especially, this year is a watershed for it because the Same-Sex Marriage bill was passed by the State Of  Illinois in the last year. Now, more than any other time, gay and lesbian people are more open about their sexuality. And, that is how it should be. To tell someone who they should fall in love with according to societies standards does go against the principals of freedom of expression that is in our Constitution. As a heterosexual man, I never really had problems with someone being gay. Sure, it goes against my feelings towards love and sex but gay and lesbian people, I'm sure, scratch their heads for my choice of sexual preference. To each his own, I say. There are those who violently oppose this lifestyle of same-sex love. Usually, they quote The Bible to further their views. Well, yeah, it does say that marriage is between the man and woman. The Bible also has many absurd stories about magic happenings [does anyone really believe that Moses parted the Red Sea?]. The argument about the accuracy about events in The Bible is open to further discussion at some other time. But, my argument to those that oppose a person's right to live life as they please without hurting anyone has always been this: while going through The Bible to support your prejudice against an issue, also take time to read and sustain the more personal parts. Such as, tolerance and understanding and loving thy neighbor regardless of whom they are and how they act. This includes sexual choice. If you believe everything in this book, then, you should also love thy neighbor as you would yourself. I never like to speak for God but I'm pretty sure God does not want you to hate your fellow man and woman for their sexual choice. This has no affect on your life and how you run it. Do not worry, gay people do not want to hurt your child if little Billy goes near them. No, they aren't looking at you in a menacing predatory way if you are showering next to them. They will not bring down the property value in your community if they move in next door to you. They don't want to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. What they want is to live a peaceful life with the person they love. Sound familiar???? As for the parade, I do have an issue with how it is run in parts. I have never seen it but the parts I have seen on TV---- which, shows the weird and absurd----- does not show the parade in a positive light. Tone it down, do not show the leather people and the people made up in a bizarre fashion. This is inviting derision and contempt, two areas you want to eliminate. If I was gay I would be highly insulted that these freaks do not further the cause of acceptance that you are holding the parade for. Cool the freakshow and show the happiness of finally being yourself. This will go a long way to building that bridge to the heterosexual world......... I used to do improv back in my acting days. It is a form of performing that I never really liked to do. The batting average of doing this type of comedy usually breaks down into thirds. One-third of the time, you hit a home run. One-third, you get a mild reception. And, the final third is bombing like Berlin in World War Two. Surprisingly, this last third never really shook me. If you can bomb in front of 150 people in a dive theater----- and Second City, regardless of its gloried history, is a shit-hole theater--- then, you can pretty much brave any foe of an audience and its reaction. I only took improv classes because, me being me, I wanted to jump into the deep end of the acting pool and see if I would drown. Well, I never drowned but I gasped for air more than I ever was successful. When I took classes at Second City around 1989/1990, it was a once a week deal, Saturday afternoons, where the class would perform improv games and exercises for three hours. Sometimes, with whatever suggestion you got from your fellow classmates, you would strike comic gold and you would file away the scene for consideration for the end of term public show you would put on. Every eight weeks you would advance to another level. There were five levels. At the end of that fifth level, you would put on a show for the public, once a week. Naturally, Second City would not give us poor students a taste of the gate, so, we did it for the pure joy of performing and maybe, learn a thing or two that would help us in the future. And, it was fun!!! A joyful time. We had our prepared skits that we perfected in our classes and then we would take the suggestions from the audience. These suggestions would make up our improv set. Generally, you would be given twenty minutes backstage to come up with something. We had tried-and-true formulas, little jokes and bits that we knew would work. After twenty minutes, you would brave that dark and lonely stage trying to make something work. Usually, the suggestions really weren't that good. Some joker, thinking he was clever, would yell out ''vibrator'' to us when we were looking for something. This genius would believe he is being funny and original by throwing this out, like performers throughout generations haven't heard this jewel of an idea. Sometimes, there would be a comment back towards this most sophisticated of fellows and one of us would spout, '' Mr. Originality in the front row has deemed the brilliant suggestion of vibrator for us to use onstage. How lucky that you are here tonight for this historic moment!'' You would usually ask for an occupation, location, and emotion, of which, after the vibrator fiasco, you would get some good things and some unworkable things. That is the secret, audience. Always give the performer something to work with instead of trying to trip them up. This does no good to give a difficult time with a difficult suggestion. It wastes the audiences time and the actors. Give the Cubs, or the Bears, or Skokie. A starting reference in which to build on. Improv needs the perfect marriage between the audience and said performers. Improv is instant feedback: either you hit or miss. Not very often is it flawless. There is the very funny TV show, ''Whose Line Is It Anyway?'' that is built on suggestions but it is heavily edited and sanitized for the viewing public. They hit the home run almost always. They are very talented people, especially, Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie, but, as every comedian knows, you aren't a hit most of the time. Their show is only given a certain amount of time to make gold. The audience is there for hours, sitting through the bad parts. You don't see that on the broadcast because who wants to sit through dreck in order to get to the goods? Still, they do nothing wrong on the show and I am a big fan of the series. I know what performing without a net is like. And, it is hard. Also, damn fun!!!!!......... Finally, we are approaching another 4th of July. I, like you, I'm sure, am going to be doing my fair share of eating and drinking and laughing at these get togethers. It is a chance to blow off steam and have fun with the people you care about the most. But, as with all holidays, we seem to forget the basic message and reason of why we are off. In our rush to grab the next beer or braut, let us always remember that brave men and women fought and died for our right to do this. It was a dangerous thing to align yourself with the Rebels in 1776. They were going up against the mightiest army in history, The British Army. There were no promises of tomorrow for them, no riches or safety guaranteed. No, they put, as the phrase went at the time, ''Our Lives, Our Fortunes, and Our Sacred Honor'', on the line. They wanted independence and freedom. They wanted their children to live in a better land. And, many of them paid the ultimate price. Never again would those that gave their lives enjoy what we enjoy. Never would they live to see the great country that we have. They did not fight for financial reward but fought for the right to live life like we all do. As we prepare to party, let us all remember those who gave us this liberty...........

Looking At The Man In The Mirror

 May 16, 1983. The event was on NBC and was a TV special honoring the history of Motown. ''Motown's 25th'' was billed as just that, a celebration of twenty five years of solid and legendary music coming out of Detroit. Motown based its core image on soul music, with a healthy dose of blues music aimed at both black and white audiences. Motown was a raging success, the counterpart to the ''British Invasion'' from England. Some very marvelous acts sprung from this company, headed by the brilliant showman Berry Gordy. He had Smokey Robinson, The Supremes, The Temptations, Aretha Franklin, James Brown, Stevie Wonder, and, a little known act from Indiana. They were called The Jackson Five. These brothers played and sang from all of the joyful energy of the young. And, the ringleader of the group, the one who got the sighs from the girls and the boys on the dance floor grooving their booties, was a shy, introverted young man with an incredibly strong voice for someone so young. He was, of course, Michael Jackson. Throughout the early and mid-1970's, the Jackson Five had an incredible string of hit singles that blasted from radios and record players all over the world. With success comes intense fame and money. Also, intense scrutiny. That a bunch of child performers are onstage with a dominating stage parent behind the scenes is a familiar story. Joe Jackson, the boys father, was a pop Svengali. He pushed and prodded, cajoled and threatened, boasted and preened, his sons to greater glory. Whatever his record as father you want to trod out and criticize, he did fulfill his ambition: to have his sons be rich and famous and admired........ The public did not choose its favorite Jackson brother like it had chosen its favorite Beatle. Michael Jackson was the focus, the drawing card, the magnet onstage. Not only was he blessed with a beautiful singing voice but he also had the moves. Dance moves that seemed to come so effortlessly to him. Truth be told, he did not have the vast collection of dance steps that all of the masters, like Fred Astaire, had. No, his sprung from the soul, the connection of dancing from one's central nervous system. It was a joyful body release from the gospel heavens, the exhilaration of dancing in the moonlight. Your eyes and ears were borne together when watching him......... Because of all of his publicity on being the star attraction of the Jackson Five, Michael Jackson soon began doing solo albums. This is not abnormal for a child performer when maturity comes forth. Just as he entered his twenties, Michael and the legendary producer, Quincy Jones, formed a bond in the recording studio and came up with the brilliant, ''Off The Wall' album. This album trumps his follow up release, ''Thriller'', in every way except sold copies. Combining the, then fashionable, disco sound with his roots in R&B and soul, Michael Jackson became more than a kid star. He blossomed into a mature and potent artist that would have long-lasting impact. Already, the seeds were planted for his greatest triumph.......And, we know that would be ''Thriller'', still the highest selling album in recording history. It was this release in late 1982, combined with his appearance the following May on the Motown special, that propelled him past ordinary stardom and made him pass into legend....... The Michael Jackson that the public viewed that night was performing poetry in motion. His outfit was worth the price of admission. He wore a fedora hat, black sequin jacket, and a glove. In time, this look would be ridiculed and used as an example of how far-gone he was from reality. But, on this night, it was revolutionary. Commencing with the opening notes of his current number one song, ''Billie Jean'', Michael Jackson riveted the viewer with his voice, look, and attitude. The audience in the theater could do nothing else but jump on its feet, a willing partner to what was happening on stage. While Michael sang, he threw out a new dance move that blew everyone's mind. He went on his toes and preceded to walk backwords in a straight line, almost like a chicken doing a carnival trick. This stunning move brought the house down. After he finished his song, Michael Jackson left a stage a historical figure........ He also left the stage a fractured human being. The fame he had experienced as a child was unreal. But, at least, he had his brothers around him to help carry the load. Now, some ten years later, his immense fame exploded into heights only reached by a few. With this fame, came changes in his already fragile being. He did the bizarre things that we all remember. He reportedly bought the bones of the ''Elephant Man'', who was a circus freak. He slept in an oxygen chamber. He build his own ''Peter Pan''-type ''Never NeverLand'', which he aptly dubbed, ''NeverLand''. He bleached his face white [ despite his denials that he suffered from a skin condition, those closest to him maintain he wanted his skin to look more white ], married Elvis's daughter in a truly creepy publicity stunt for both of them, and, most alarming, he began to have intense relationships with small boys........ This last item would haunt Michael Jackson to his dying day. At first, it was explained that, because he did not have a normal childhood, he was reverting to all of the things that kids do when they play together. Sleepovers. Pillow fights. Water gun fights. Tickling each other into hysterics. All of these things are practiced by very young boys but, certainly not by adult men. This behavior from a grown man in his twenties and thirties can only be described as being obscenely inappropriate. Sexual feelings are in the grown up that are not in the young child. Someone should had talked to Michael that he was courting danger with this type of behavior. Perhaps, someone, unknown to us, did approach the subject with him. Obviously, he ignored it. In time, it was bound to explode in a scandal. And, it did........ In 1993, Michael Jackson was brought up on child abuse charges by a ''playmate'' of his. The boy, wisely shielded from the public knowing his name, alleged that he was touched in his private parts by Jackson on several occasions. He also claimed that oral sex had been performed on him by Jackson. Michael Jackson railed against the charges. He was innocent, he claimed, the victim of an extortion plot by the boy's family. Exactly what did, in fact, go on can never be identified because Michael Jackson paid the kid off for his silence and dropping the charges. Rumors had the amount in the several millions. Was his behavior appropriate with kids has always been open to debate. Was he the harmless friend, the kids protector against the bad adults in the world? Or, was he, as veteran child abuse experts believed, the archtypical child predator who used his enormous power and fortune to buy his way out of going to jail? The verdict is in the mind of those involved in debating the issue. But, one fact does standout: Michael Jackson continued to have young boys as his ''playmates'' for many years after. By then, he had his own kids........ Like most things in the complicated life of MJ, the origins of how his kids were conceived are a fuzzy mystery. He had a woman, out of the blue, be the mother of his kids. The rampant speculation was that the kids were artificially inseminated. That is fine, many parents go this route when experiencing difficulty conceiving a child. But, as soon as the kids were born--- and, they are beautiful kids----- the mother was thrown offstage, like a prop no longer useful, and handed over all custody rights to Michael. This implies, again, vast money being exchanged, also known as a business deal. But, most disturbingly, it also left the raising of two small children in the hands of a questionable person with a growing history of bizarre behavior with kids.......... Throughout the 1990's and 2000's, Michael Jackson made more music. But, maybe, because of his seedy private life played out in the public eye, the quality of his music suffered. He still had his legion of followers that worshipped his every move and forgave [ or, overlooked ] his behavior. But, the mainstream was turning away. While his album sales would be the envy of anyone in the business, each album was greeted with less acclaim and less sales volume by the public. As the years sped by, Michael Jackson was losing his fame and fortune. The money spending, always outlandish, was now choking him so much that he was forced to sell out many of his assets, including the Beatles songwriting catalogue, the most valuable source of revenue in show business history. And, finally, when 2009 dawned and he announced a tour of the world come summertime, the ticket sales were highly disappointing. There was still heavy interest in him, but, more from the Freakshow viewpoint instead of a genuine musical icon......... Death would come to him before he started this tour. On June 25, 2009, Michael Jackson was found barely breathing in his bedroom. He was rushed to the hospital but he could not be saved. He was gone to that NeverLand that he always wished he could have lived in........ When he died, there were the inevitable comparisons of his life and Elvis Presley's. Both achieved a fame that went beyond superstardom. Both were, at heart, little lost boys who let prescription drugs ruin their bodies and minds [ Michael Jackson's death was ruled an accidental overdose ]. Both lost control of reality and themselves as a person. Both were supremely talented but deeply flawed human beings. And, both, finally, could not be reached because they were also the victims of the people around them, the people who, supposedly, cared for them, but were, in fact, enablers who did nothing to save them. Like Elvis, Michael Jackson has his music and legacy that will go on without him. But, also like Presley, it is severely tarnished by the excesses of bizarre behavior.........

Cops And Robbers

Like any person who starts a new job, Peter brought to his chosen profession all of the zest of someone who is gonna change things for the better. He had picked the police department, not because of the overwhelming riches that being a cop awards you. And, certainly, not for the comfort level of a safe job. No, Peter, like most who go into law enforcement, was staking his life on trying to help people. And, he has. From the small things of solving a family dispute, to putting his life on line to deliver safety to his area. He has a tough road to hoe. Peter walks the mean streets of the West Side of Chicago...... We have all heard the stories about the new Old West that is now playing out in blood in this particular area of Chicago. It has always been dangerous, with its drug dealing and armed robbery history. Human life seems to be of precious little value to the ruthless gangs and amateur thugs that prey on the decent people of this area. Every weekend, especially, during summertime, there will be random shootings and other violent acts, such as rape, being committed. The community, predominantly black and Hispanic, are on the downside of economic fortune. With poor people, in many instances, comes crime. Many commit acts against the law simply to survive. You can have a moral debate about someone committing a crime to feed his or her family. I'm sure I would if my back was against the wall......But, the majority of crime committed in this area is by the animals who do not care who is hurt and how they get your hard earned money. Generations now have been raised to believe that society is to be trampled on and you do to them before they do it to you. And, there is the deep seated hatred directed towards the police. The police are The Enemy. They are viewed as a bunch of [ mostly] white racist bullies who pick on all ethnic groups that are not Caucasian. That is the view many cops have told me, along with many people I have known who have lived in that area in town and, fortunately, survived it. When there is a robbery or murder or sexual assault, or any other violent act, the police will arrive and be treated with outright hate because they are the larger problem, as perceived by the community. So, very little cooperation will be coming forth to solve the problem. The overwhelming feeling in neighborhoods is tell the police nothing........ Well, that is nothing new. All ethnic groups and neighborhoods have had the code of ''omerta'', or, silence, to live by. We will take care of our own, the prevailing opinion is.Tell The Enemy to go fuck themselves. It is a sad state of affairs in this world when the criminals have more respect than the heroes trying to do good. The most popular movie in this culture is ''Scarface''. It is watched over and over and its meanings driven into the violent culture as almost a religion. Never mind that the point of the movie is that the main character is a vicious thug who gets what he deserves. The movie was made as a cautionary tale of what not to do and how not to live your life. But, that meaning is bypassed by those who preach violence and hate. They see the glamour and sparkling cars and beautiful women and reams of cash being spurt out. They miss the point and accept the excess. This same misguided way of thinking has always been in the vile and hideous music called rap and hip-hop. If you can stomach listening to this drivel, check out the words of overwhelming hate that come forth at the listener. Lack of regard for human life--- women are ''bitches'', the police must be shot, etc. And, this garbage is the soundtrack behind the violence playing out in the streets.......... This way of thinking does apply to todays gunslinger roaming the streets. Todays brute murders children, does drive-by shootings at people sitting peacefully outside enjoying the nice weather, and, preys on any female to do sexual assault. The bastards control the decent people there, who want nothing more than to live their lives as best as they can without the madness going on around them intruding. The bastards pull children into their version of street gangs and ''initiate'' the child into the ways of the wild. For many children, they either join the gang or are murdered on the spot. This is called sending a message. I would think most kids have no choice and submit. Before long, they are pedaling drugs, which segues into robbery and, finally, finds a home in the sick world of murder. How many times have we seen a child on the news arrested for a violent act? A mere baby of ten or eleven? And, when they show the child, all traces of being a kid are gone. What is left in the eyes is the mind that has trained to become a monster. With that kind of training, who can ever bring stability to this region? Certainly, not The Enemy in blue...... The policeman, Peter, feels the pain and outrage in this area. Especially, the pain. He sees it the faces of the older people who live there. The brave who have seen terror come into their lives. They once fought the struggle for racial independence from prejudice. They marched and in many cases were beaten and some killed for the American and human right to be treated equal. Now, they tell Peter [ these folks are not afraid to talk to the police because they know that most officers are good, kind people who want to help] that all of the struggles in the past seem a wasted effort. They marched in Selma, Alabama, and in the streets of Chicago for what? So, that a gangbanger can drive by in an SUV blasting gangster music and create mayhem. They are at a loss on what to do. In private, these very wise older people come out and tell the police to kick the ass of the drooping drawer wearing gang members. ''Beat the shit out of them'', said one elderly man, tired of the struggle. Peter and his partners silently wished that they could. The old man was right. Two weeks after this comment, the elderly man was found dead in his home. He was the victim of a robbery. The talk on the street was that the kids who killed him knew he had nothing valuable in his home. They just murdered him for the joy of it. Peter and his fellow officers had a pretty good idea who did the killing but had no proof. The neighborhood also knew who did the deed. But, they weren't talking. Certainly, not to The Enemy...... And, then there are the kids. Little kids who give high-fives to the police officers. Kids too young to understand the war zone they are living in. Kids who want to play ball in the park and run around in the hot summer with the fire hydrant spraying the water to keep cool. Kids who are in the blessed bubble, even for a short time, of thinking that everybody is good and the world is not a danger. These are kids who are all pure kindness and love........ Recently, Peter was walking down the street patrolling his beat when he came across a young boy he knew from the neighborhood. The boy was walking with his father. The boy raised his hand to give Peter a high-five, as he had many times in the past. But, the father grabbed his son's hand before he could do it. He sternly lectured the boy that they should ''never be nice to a fuckin cop''.........

Frank And Ava

He walked into the recording studio that night a broken man. It was a woman again. A dame. He had been with many in his life, probably, far too many to remember. He was a man always on a constant quest for the ultimate, whether it be a woman, good times with the boys, or perfection in his work. This night in March, 1951, it was his heart that was aching. That forlorn ache of a man who was in love with a woman who brought him to his knees. This was no easy achievement because this man was Frank Sinatra, and Frank Sinatra did not bow to anyone. People bowed to him. But, he was hurting bad from yet another fight with her. He knew that his muse was in his suffering, whether it was the world that he wanted to be perfect, or, a woman. Heartbreak at love drove his music and his psyche. As he stepped up to the microphone that March night so long ago, he was singing to her, as always. The song was a minor tune in his army of love songs. It was called, ''I'm A Fool To Want You.'' He has co-written this because it was so near to his heart and what he was feeling. He sang it in one take, for as legend has it, after he sang it once, he was too spent to go on. He put his hat on, slightly crooked, as usual, threw his coat over his shoulder, and walked out into the cruel, lonely night. The song was for Ava Gardner...... They had met sometime in the 1940's. Frank was the sensation of the decade, the hottest singer in the world. Women swooned to his music and to the power of the man himself. Ava was the most beautiful woman in the world, so the studio hacks said. She was born in Grabstown, North Carolina, very poor. Her legend had it that one day a shop owner had asked this teenage beauty if it would be alright for him to put her picture in his window display as a kind of promotion. She said yes, and the next thing anyone knew was that a talent agent from Hollywood saw the picture and immediately sent her out to California for a screen test. She was no great shakes as an actress, as she herself admitted, but, she was young and stunningly beautiful, the perfect marriage of images for Tinseltown. Soon, Ava became the toast of Hollywood , with famous men throwing themselves at her and vice versa. She married twice, Mickey Rooney and bandleader Artie Shaw. She also had a well-documented affair with tycoon Howard Hughes. But, her career was stagnant and she felt unsatisfied. She was looking for the real action in life, a break from the humdrum. And, in the late 1940's she finally accepted a date from the most famous entertainer in the world. She had heard of his reputation with women. He was a male nymphomaniac, which did not bother her, because she was a female hound. So, in 1949, after years of teasing and flirting, Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra went out on their first date......... That first date ended up with them getting arrested. They went driving to the desert, bombed out of their minds on booze [ which, would be the normal for these two massive drinkers] and looking for trouble. Suddenly, Frank produced a gun from somewhere and they started firing randomly at stores and any other objects that came in their eyesight. No one was hurt---- although, there are rumors an innocent bystander received a minor wound---- and the police arrested these famous drunks for disturbing the peace. Of course, being famous, money was spread out, and any law that was being broken suddenly became fixed. But, the press got ahold of the story and before anyone could take a breath, Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner were spread all over the world's pages as a couple......... There was one problem. A big problem. Frank was still married to his wife, Nancy. Nancy Sinatra had met and fallen in love with Frank Sinatra when he was still a pebble trying to get the first big break. She was the loyal Italian wife who ironed his ties and suits, made the gravy, and gave him the three children that he doted on. But, Frank was a man with vast appetites, a man who would never settle down to the slippers and sitting by the fire at night. This man was all action. He had to keep moving, never could he ever stay still. He needed constant stimulation and excitement. It applied to every facet of his life, especially, his love life. Frank was never faithful. He scored with every woman he could be with, whether they be Hollywood stars like Lana Turner or women who were, as the polite term says, ''scarlets of profession'' [ hookers]. Frank had them all, hundreds, eventually, thousands, and Nancy was the faithful wife who turned a blind eye to his wandering. As she always said, when Frank finished with his dalliances, he always came home to her. But, this time, he could not. Not after Ava......... Frank fell in love with Ava. And, Ava flipped for Frank. It was a passionate union, filled with sex, drinking, all night parties, gambling, and arguing. And, the arguing was legendary. Both were insanely jealous of the other's past sexual activity. Both had hot tempers and were not afraid to let it all hang out. There are famous stories of them screaming at each other at nightclubs and Hollywood shindigs while the astonished onlookers held their mouths open agape. Naturally, these temper tantrums and jealous rages found their way into the gossip columns. Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner became the first tabloid affair played out in the public. And, the public was fascinated. Would Frank leave his beloved wife for Ava? Was Ava a homewrecker, trying to steal a man away from his wife and children? And, what about Frank's career, which had been thriving until his affair with Ava started? Suddenly, Sinatra was out of favor with his audience, which stopped buying his records and going to see his movies. Ava was headed in the opposite direction. All of the publicity of her union with Frank ignited her dead career and she was suddenly the hottest start on the silver screen. All of this combined for a very tantalizing soap opera played out for the public to watch......... But, throughout all of the fury, there were the quiet moments between them. They could not stand being apart from each other. Essentially, they were the same person. Both were given to living life to its fullest. Both had childhoods that left them scarred. Both, with that passionate blood that flowed within them, could not imagine life without the other. They were soulmates. Partners in life if only they could get past the bad. There would always be fire in their relationship, they knew. And, they liked that. It was one of those love unions that only those who have experienced can understand. Logic is thrown out of the window. Common sense tells you that the other person should go away. But, the heart speaks louder than the brain. You long for the other person, you cannot go through life without them. No, they were one, the blending of each other's best traits and worst. On one hand, they were the perfect creation. On the other, they were damned by God for their past sins......... Torn between the guilt of leaving Nancy and the kids, and his all-consuming passion for Ava, Frank Sinatra lost it all. His career was in shreds and the public and press turned against him. It was during this time that the dark thoughts came to him and he attempted suicide at least once. He turned the gas oven on and sat in front of it, wanting to end it all. Fortunately, a friend stopped him before it was too late. On another occasion, after another fight with Ava, he called her from his hotel room and announced that he was ending it all. On the phone, Ava heard what sounded like a gunshot. Fearfully, she rushed to the hotel and found Frank sitting there unhurt. He had fired the shot into a pillow and just wanted to scare her. This, of course, started another row between them and she stormed away, vowing never to see him again. A few nights later, the press reported, Ava was sitting ringside at a show Frank was performing at. She was smiling at her man and said, ''Look at that son of a bitch! How can I not love him?''........ Eventually, Nancy Sinatra gave Frank the divorce. Frank was very generous with her---- a trait Frank was with everyone he knew---- and gave her all of his money and the house. One week later, in November of 1951, Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner were wed. It was a small ceremony. Afterwords, Frank told the awaiting press that it was a long road but they made it.......... The honeymoon was like anything else with them. Passionate drinking, passionate sex, and passionate arguing. All night parties continued, along with the accusations of infidelity. Now, there was some truth to these accusations. Frank, at least during his days before marrying Ava, was still seeing other women. And, Ava, had her affairs also. She was very fond of Spanish bullfighters. Whenever she and Frank parted in anger, Ava would be seen openly with her latest bullfighter toy. But, for the most part, the accusations were false. They were committed to each other, at least, in their own way. Ava still had the thriving career while Frank was struggling. Ava would later state that they were the happiest when Frank was down and out. But, Frank had plans. He heard about the hot new part in a movie that was being planned, ''From Here To Eternity''. Frank was sure this part would put him on top again. After much back and forth, Frank got the role and the success of the movie would jump start his sagging career. And, in an example of ying and yang in life, Ava's career started to tumble. They reversed roles now. And, it strained their already volatile relationship. The fighting grew more heated between them, the separations and dalliances with affairs more frequent. It did not help that Ava could not stand Frank's mobster friends and his string of hanger-ons. Ava would verbally berate Frank in public for hanging out with these people. Frank would yell back that these were his friends and fuck what she says. Finally, after two short years of marriage, in 1953, Ava Gardner filed for divorce, although, it would be a few more years before it became final. Both Frank and Ava were heartbroken. It was the classic case of can't live with, can't live without. They decided to part. There would be many attempts for the next ten years at getting back together, and they did for short periods, but, they could not make it work.......... They never got over each other. Frank would marry twice more. Ava would not. She never had any children. She later stated she always wanted to have a child, but, only Frank Sinatra's child, no one else's. Frank would become an even bigger star in the 50's and 60's with The Rat Pack and his endless recordings and films and personal appearances. Frank Sinatra became an National Icon, a Living Legend. Ava Gardner would continue to work occasionally in movies but she was only doing it for the money. Like Frank, the years of hard drinking and hard living would take its toll on her looks and she gained a lot of weight. Eventually, she would move to London, where she spent her final years until her death in 1990. She and Frank remained on friendly terms throughout the years. He always took care of the people he loved and made sure Ava was cared for. When word reached him that she died, he took to his room for three days, overcome with grief for the true love of his life. There was a quiet service for Ava in her hometown where she was buried. Frank did not go, it was too hard for him to say goodbye to her. He sent flowers. The inscription was simple: ''All My Love, Francis''......... Frank Sinatra would live another eight years after Ava. During this time age would sap this once vital man of his energies. Eventually, he had to stop because Frank Sinatra showed what many thought was not possible: that he was mortal......... But, before he dimmed his eyes for the last time, Frank still knew how to sell a song in concert. He was the best singer of the 20th Century and he knew it. He knew he had to sing a song for the audience to take into their souls. And, he always succeeded. One song he sang with an extra feeling. It was ''I've Got You Under My Skin''. It was one of his most popular songs, and, not surprisingly, it had an Ava connection. The song states that a love is so deep in the heart that you are really a part of me. And, you, the lovelorn listener would not have it any other way........ Soon after Ava's death in 1990, Frank Sinatra started to perform again. When he came to ''I've Got You Under My Skin'', those around him noticed that he sang it differently than in the past. It was all emotion, less swagger....... I'm imagining Frank was singing it to her. He was looking out into that vast audience that was always there for him. But, Frank was seeing the dark and the woman he loved, somewhere in that dark...........

Emotional Emptiness, With Cosmos

Last night, at a party I attended, the hosts had the TV on in the corner. Most parties, lately, have the Hawks game on or something that is just background to the goings on in the foreground. I always have stated that if you are watching the boob tube at a party---- and, it is a non-sports event playing on the set--- then, that party is headed for trouble. I can watch TV at home, whatever I may choose!!! [ I love liberty!] So, I glanced at what was playing and immediately registered what was on. Then, I turned away in a flash. If I watched what was on for a long period of time, I was afraid my I.Q. would drop dramatically and I may become a different person. The movie playing was the cinematic masterpiece, ''Sex In The City 2''........ Yes, I am a man. A heterosexual man. So, by definition of the audience that watched the TV show in its heyday, and, now embraces the movies, I cannot possibly understand this show and what it means to women. It has been lectured to me that these four women are representing the independent spirit and mindset of the modern woman. She is free to explore all that she has not been able to explore because of the male-dominated society that has held women in bondage with their actions. Now, like any argument, there is truth to this statement. Some truth, I grant you. The modern woman, educated, opinionated, strong with sexual drive, and driven to be their own person, has been kept down by the male society. I have always been in favor of the liberated woman. Fly and be free, ladies. You are women, let me hear you roar. And, the very same  liberation in the real world should also be translated into the reel world of entertainment. Let it all hang out and show us males what you are really thinking about--- fears, dreams, hidden hurt emotions, the other side of  a relationship. the whole shebang. And, when the arrival of ''Sex In The City'' came on HBO in the late 90's, I was all open to explore this world for the unenlightened male....... Except, these characters that came forward on the show made my skin crawl. Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte were so unlikable that it was an instant turnoff. They are stereotypical bubbleheads who exhibit all of the narcissistic behavior found in the worst of males. They are into fashion, shoes, sex, bad drinks, shoes, me-me behavior. Fine, everybody needs to have interests. But, those interests also show the emptiness of their souls and beings. They are so into themselves that they cannot see that real love--- be it for a man or children---- is beyond them and their empty emotional levels. They are users of people and of objects with no regard for whom they may be burning with this behavior. The fact that they exhibit that free behavior seems to be the drawing card for its confused audience........ Take, for instance, the sexual life of Samantha. Women out there seem to admire that Samantha plays by her own rules sexually and is not concerned by the  opinion of others. Fine, that is good. A person should be allowed to live his or her own life without caring what others think. But, what this character does not see--- and, sadly, her admiring audience out there watching doesn't see or understand either----- is that this is a woman who is an emotional cripple when it comes to caring for someone else. She is a user, and, like most users, they have some success with this behavior, which leads to being admired by the audience that is not quite grasping that this character is not the type of person to have as a friend. She is sleeping around, yes. But, like most males that do this behavior, she leaves a trail of broken hearts and feelings of uselessness and shame for those she has been with. Women have been the victim of this type of behavior for far too long. Why a female audience that watches this show and embraces the characters so fiercely admires this type of cruelty is beyond me......... In the brief glimpse of the movie I saw the other night, the character of Miranda seems to have reproduced twice. If this is not an example of why some adults should not be parents, then, I do not know what is. In fact, all of these ladies should never have children because they are too childish themselves. The scene I saw had the kids being brats to Miranda and interfering with Miranda wanting to go out with her friends for Cosmos. Apparently, the kids are mistaken to believe that Mom would want to raise them as any good mother would......... But, let me not just criticize the females in this show. There is the big guy, Mr. Big. He was set up in the original show as the Dream Guy. Rich, handsome, successful, and apparently, well-endowed, Carrie's guy pal is what every woman out there wants. Perhaps. But, ladies, do you not want someone who is also not such a self-centered idiot? He is so into himself that I would think his favorite Saturday Night Date is watching himself in the mirror, admiring all that is him. He only seems to have one vocal range to talk in---- low tones, purring like a Cheshire cat. He is the type of guy you meet and have to ask to have him repeat what he said because you can't understand him. And, he is also the type of guy that would not because that is not his nature. He thinks he is the coolest guy in the room and we should all know it. In a way, he is the perfect companion for Carrie. They both are incapable of being in love with anyone but themselves.......... Women have told me that one of the things they admire about this show is the strong friendship between the four. I don't see it. It seems to be a friendship based on wanting, not needing. Wanting all of the material possessions in life [and, men are a material possession to them] without getting past the fact that, yes, ''things'' are nice to have, but, a deep love for someone else is much more paramount. Love for a mate. And, love for a friend. I do not believe that these women really love each other as friends. They say they do, and, want to believe that they will always be there for each other, but, their constant quest for personal enjoyment at the expense of everyone else belies this. I look at their friendship and see that it is held together by the thinnest of strings. One small pull and they would be at each others throats. They do not really care about each other, that is surface interaction. Beneath it, these ladies would end their friendship over who did not pay what at lunch, or, more likely, one of them sleeping with the other's man........ As a male that has known and dated his fair share of women, these ladies are the type that guys really do not want anything to do with, beyond the sexual conquest. They are too full of themselves with their shallow behavior to have any kind of long-lasting relationship with. At least, with a guy that is decent to his core. And, no, guys are not threatened by a strong, independent woman, a common retort to those that defend these unlikable characters and show.  You wanna know what men really find attractive in a woman, ladies? Yes, physical appearance is one of the things. Both sexes lay claim to the fact they wanna get laid. But, what men really want is decency. Decency of character. Decency of spirit. Decency to care about the other person and not have it be something that they feel that they have to do, but, want to do. Men want to be loved as much as woman. A good woman. A woman who is not primary concerned with getting the new pair of shoes or showing the world how they should be admired, but, rather, by a woman who is herself. Men are flawed, but, so are women, and the pity of this show--- where they dropped the ball---- is not showing these flaws, mixed with genuine human caring, that make up people trying to get along with each other in this cold world....... It is an old cliche, but, it is the heart of humanity. We all need love......... The women in ''Sex In The City'' cannot understand this. They cannot see love beyond the emptiness of their lives and souls..........

Scoleri's Island

Like most people, when I stop to fill up the gas tank, I buy a Lotto ticket. It is almost automatic that I buy one. Sometimes, I pick up the scratch -off with the promise of a thousand dollars a week for life, other times I play the Big Boy games of Mega Millions and Little Lotto. And, there is always the slight optimistic thought that this is the winning ticket that I have been waiting my whole life for. The ticket that will finally even out all of the tight financial living that myself and my family have had ever since we were created. I do not come from a family of means, just love. I prefer the love over the money any day. But, the money would be a nice chaser with the drink. I delay any look into if I have won that week's prize. Let myself dream a little longer. Also, even though it is the rule of most religions to not ask God for that gift of winning [ though the church is not shy of asking for money at the collection plate] I still say a silent prayer for the deliverance from money worries. Finally, I will jack up the nerve to scratch that ticket or check my  numbers. And, I lose, every week. Maybe, I will win a free ticket with the scratch off but no great money intake will come my way. So, I have my disappointment, and, the next time I fill-up, I will repeat the pattern....... I would be a fun, rich guy!! I have seen my whole life people struggle and complain about what a hardship it is to have money coming out of every corner. Where is this corner? Because I want to be a hooker on it and earn big money. I'm not asking for the moon here, just a taste of financial high-living. My first act upon receiving money would be the sensible act of paying off all of my bills and the  bills of people whom I care about. And, then, I would stow away some money for that elusive rainy day that we all have heard about. I would not be one of these idiots--- usually, show business bozos--- who earn a great fortune and then piss it away on foolish behavior. Nah, I would build a solid foundation against any financial hardship. One must always be aware to pay the rent and have food on the table...... And, then, it would time to play!!! I would pull a Marlon Brando here and buy my own private island. Now, Brando had his in the South Seas. The weather is next to perfect there but they do have a tendency to have typhoons and other natural weather disasters that blow away paradise. Plus, recently, that area has been a haven for missing Malaysian jets. I would not want some corpses to wash up on my island when I am sleeping the well-earned afternoon nap. If I wanna sleep next to a corpse I will call some ex-girlfriends....... So, I would have to pick the next location for my island. The Caribbean seems logical. Great weather, nice people, ah, natural stimulants to while away the days and nights. However, there is a largely unreported crime element that roams in the area. A lot of tourists are beaten and robbed of their money by the locales. And, recently, professional pirates have taken over a lot of the free trade. I don't like pirates. I have never met one but I'm pretty sure they would look at me like I should be greased up and passed around the poop deck........ Because of my heritage I would probably follow my heart to the homes of my ancestors, Ireland and Italy. Ireland holds appeal because of the lush green lands that I imagine stretch thousands of miles. There is the beautiful countryside mixed in with the even more beautiful local pubs to quench one's thirst. There is the Irish lasses, who make every Italian male's heart run a Dublin mile. But, whenever I see the Irish country, laddie, the sky always looks like it is about to thunderstorm for the next two weeks. The panoramic view is ruined by this. If I want constant rain I can stay in Schaumburg........So, Italy would be the next stop. And, it would be the best stop for me. Why? Well, the weather is not perfect but it is a shitload better than Schaumburg, Illinois, 60193. You have history there, perhaps, the most interesting history in recorded, ah, history. The architecture alone makes one want to cream. In the mainland, you have the high mountains that cry out for a long walk or a ride on a motor scooter. Along the way, you will encounter my favorite part of any trip, the restaurants and cafes that serve endless food and endless red wine. Now, because of my healthy appetite, and, my equally healthy apathy to anything involving exercising, I would surely pack on the pounds, so, getting my own island would be wise....... My island off of the coast of Italy would be simple, for I am a simple man. There would be a small landing strip for either a plane or a helicopter to bring supplies and my chosen visitors. There would be huts all around the beach--- not to close because that would ruin the view--- with running water and the modern conveniences  [I am no fool, I would not live without certain creature comforts]. There would be very few clocks on the island because I would want to control the time according to my living speed. The ocean water is blue, of course, because the natural pollutants that make up a normal beach visit would not be a concern. I want clean water. Now, I normally do not want to swim in the ocean because there are things that could kill you [ever see a piranha or an octopus walking down Michigan Avenue?]. It is the world of the fish and I am no Jacques Cousteau. But, my visitors would be tempted by the beauty, therefore, I must have the ocean looking as well as I can. The sands would be white, clear white, with small little tables by the lounge chairs for you to nosh on your favorite food and tropical beverage. Fresh coconuts would be on the palm trees, ready for the picking. The crabs would be crawling along quietly, eyeing suspiciously the seashells. There would be a gentle wind blowing on this perfect day with a temperature a nice 82 degrees. The sun shining, the sky ever so blue........... I would be surrounded by my chosen people. My family and friends. There would be no party crashers to the island. I invite my crowd. So, there would be laughs and good times. Lets string a volleyball net up and play! Wanna play some baseball? Well, that field that I just had plowed is awaiting your first home run. The bar would be close by for any activity. I would hire the best bartender to make you a proper drink. Not a drink that knocks you on your ass but a drink that soothes your soul and takes you on a nice, mellow trip to Drunkland. Sorry, my female friends, but the bartender would be female. They make the best bartenders and it is my fuckin island. You want men, go win your Lotto prize!! But, the bartender would be nice and sweet and personable for all to get to know. I want good feelings at Scoleri Island, no hard feelings or petty feuds. We are all there to push the world away with all of its insane problems. Smiles are the daily wear....... The nights would rock with my own private club. There is the dance floor for those that want to shake their booties. Another bar to curl up in. And, music, sweet, sweet music for us to groove to. Paradise needs a soundtrack. Bob Marley and other reggae music is needed, but also the other sounds of the world. To me, Sinatra's ''Summer Wind'' is just a vital to hear as Marley's music. The old hippie ''Summer Of Love'' music, with Scott Mckenzie and The Mamas and Papas and The Lovin Spoonful. Slow dancing with your love, or, with your drink, is allowed. At some point, the music and alcohol and good feelings meld into a perfect whole....... You are hungry, you say? Lobster and other wonderful fish await your mouth. Now, if fish is not to your liking, I am batting around the idea of a Wendy's restaurant behind the bar if you have the 3am munchies. And, yes, to the faithful: there will be cheeseballs. You cannot have paradise without fried cheese........ I don't want to hear airplanes. I don't want traffic and congestion. I don't want the pushy public to walk all over me and my guests. That is the point of an island. So, I want people there to have the right attitude. You are there to have a good time and to turn off the world. The world and all of its problems will be there when we go back to it...... If we go back...... So, I have the plan for my paradise . Now, all I need is the winning Lotto numbers. Sadly, this is the hard part to accomplish.......

Love Among Green Bay Packers Fans

Unlike many Chicago Bears fans I do not dislike the rival Green Bay Packers. I concede their heritage of Super Bowl winning and the famous that have passed through the gates of that historic franchise. There is an old saying that you do not hate your enemies because it will cloud your judgment. Plus, it is football, nothing more, like all sports, than entertainment. It is a diversion for Sunday afternoons when the fall is around us and our prayers are wishing for a mild winter. So, when I encounter a Packers fan, I will bow my head in sympathy for them, give them a few barbs as only a rival can do, pat them on the back, laugh, and lead them to the bar to watch our respective favorite teams slug it out. It is all good-natured fun, with a touch of evil.......... However, there is always that evil part. Humor mixed with a shot to the heart of a true-fan. You have to bring them down to Earth at some point and get the blood pressure points up a few notches. God knows, Cubs and White Sox like to give each other the business when the topic of the better baseball team in town is raised. Usually, that involves the history of your favorite team losing, plus, mention is made about the physical appearances of that teams fan base. The fan base is usually split in the Chicago area about our baseball teams. But, when we all unite in the glorious fall to join the Bears Nation, our venom turns up north, to the land of cheese and people not bathing on a regular basis. The Wal-Mart crowd that makes up the State Of Wisconsin. And, the latest thing I have learned today is there is a new dating site for lonely Packers fans. It is called GreenBayPackersLovers.com........ I heard this tasty tidbit from a favorite radio show I have. WSCR [the ''Score''] is devoted to talking sports. Since I am work during the day, I usually cannot hear much of the Dan MacNeil show, which is on from  9 am - 1pm every morning during the week. When I have the day off, like today, it is required listening. Well, this AM, they broke the story of this website. Like any other website devoted to those looking for love [or, lust], the site is trying to fix up people with the most in common. And, this site disregards such minor details as personality, appearance, job position, children, etc, and, concentrates its marketing on the most important thing for a Packers fan: finding another Packers fan to share their love of their favorite team. Much hilarity was  given out by MacNeil and crew about the quality of said Packers fans. And, it was all grounded in truth, which is the backbone of human observations...... Well, I went to the site to check out what all of the fuss is about. And, it is pretty much like you would imagine. Packers fans, dressed in their teams colors, looking for love in all of the wrong places. As with every website they showed fans from around the globe that loved the team. Some of the women were attractive, some looked like they could play linebacker for the team. One thing I thought was interesting is that the good-looking women portrayed on the page lived nowhere near Green Bay. There was a L.A. woman, someone from Hawaii. Not bad-looking lasses. My question to myself was, how come these attractive girls could not find love in the paradises that they live in? Why advertise there?.......... Then, there was the flipside. The men on the website. They looked like much of the livestock that I have seen driving through Wisconsin. Big, beefy-looking guys, who look like they would not like to enjoy anything better after a Packers game than to have sex with their sister. Now, you say, ''Jimmy, many male Bears fans are not very toned and fit, either. Why pick on the Packers men?'' The answer is easy: it is my fuckin blog and I can write whatever I want........ Like most dating sites the average date is not between two models. It is usually between two average-looking people who want to find someone as a partner. The same would apply on an average date on this Packers lovelorn site. So, lets us eavesdrop a little on the first date between a male and female Packers fan......... They would be at a bar somewhere near Lambeau Field, the home of the beloved Green Bay Packers. The parking lot would be made of one of those lots made entirely of gravel, no concrete. The smell of romance would be in the air, along with the smell of brauts. The male would arrive first: his name would be Cletus and he just finished his job of extracting dead goats from fences. He would amble out of his 1973 Charger vehicle, with a cigarette dangling from his greasy lips and flannel shirt on with the Packers logo. Before he rolled out of his car, he reached into his glove compartment and slapped on his expensive after-shave lotion, Brute. After farting one last time[ this is a first date, mind you, and one does not pass gas on the first date. That is for the second date], Cletus waddles into ''Perl's Diner and Gas Station''. He thinks he is getting there early, because that is the gentlemenly way to get into a girl's pants on a first date. Alas, Cletus is in for a shocker. Already sitting at the bar is his date. Her name is Cathy Jones, whom everyone calls ''Butch''. Butch has just finished her third portion of beans and brauts and already has a buzz on because she has been drinking since sun up. Butch arose with the cows to milk them and watch them have sex, so, she could get some kind of idea of how the evening will end with that Cletus fella from up north in the big city. This is a special night for Butch. At 45, this is her second date in life [Butch, being of the lively sort, loves to quote her age to strangers. She proudly points out on how her age and waistline have melded into one]. Butch is clean shaven, from head to toe, with two little scars that no one would notice unless they got intimate with her. One is under her chin where it is always the toughest to get every bit of hair. The other is under her left testicle, next to the tattoo of Brett Favre. Butch has just farted one last time before Cletus walked in because she believes it is not appropriate to fart in the first hour of the first date. When Cletus walks through the door with the broken doorknob, their eyes lock and immediately lust is in the air, along with the cigarette smell and the flying gobs of saliva........ They choose a booth near the bathroom. On the dating form they filled out, they both discovered that they are in love with the sounds of strangers going to the bathroom. It takes a good five minutes for both of them to squeeze into the booth. The introductions are brief and touching...... ''Me, Cletus........ Me, Butch''...... Immediately, to hide their self-consciousness, they grab the menu, which is the size of a phone book. They mumble to each other that they don't care what food they get as long as it has some cheese in it. Fortunately, every item on the menu does. The waitress soon takes their order and leaves to order the crane to bring the food. Then, the uncomfortable silence of a first date has settled on them. They look at each other and size up the others appearance. Cletus thinks that Butch has a pretty mouth. But, what really captures his fancy is when Butch smiles. Her eight remaining teeth give off the power of great human warmth and good sucking action. Butch, for her part, eyes this Cletus boy. He seems clean [but, she is willingly to overlook that annoyance], has the expensive cologne that she likes, and, when he laughs, he shows a lot of teeth, especially, after telling a joke, the teeth came flying out of his mouth and landed on her shoulder [ the good one with bones in it]. But, perhaps, the most touching moment of this date, the moment that is often told among the regulars at ''Perl's'', is when, right in the middle of the story that Butch is telling about how she lost her virginity to a pelican, Cletus leans over and picks the dead bug from the bald spot on Butch. They look at each other and realize, not only is he prone to heroic feats, but, the dead bug is bright green. Green Bay Packers green!!! After the moment, they looked into each other's good eye and found love. Their calloused hands were being held under the table. They both knew that they had found love with the right person, the type of person who lives for the glorious Green Bay Packers, and, whom would never leave this team for another for all of the bars of Dial soap in the world. The two kids, Cletus and Butch, romantics to the bone, found true love. And, they owed it to that website. One final act was necessary for this perfect night. The stars were out as they walked to their cars, their hearts alighting with the possibilities of love. Only one thing would seal this union. The melding of their bodies together for eternity. So, they farted......... Perhaps, this is the average date among Packers fans. Or, maybe, I'm being too critical. Maybe, the first date between Green Bay Packers fans is a union between two normal, good-looking, intelligent people. Two people who are joined together to do good things in life, to advance the love and good tidings that is the core of the human condition. Maybe, just maybe, the dates consist of people who will change the course of history for the better, who will lead us from the dark times that make up our daily lives and bring us, finally, together to be a loving people. Maybe, this is the real Green Bay Packers fan!!!!!........ Nah.........