Cubs get new digs, we don't

It's a good news/ bad news thing really.
What started as a giggling thought turned into a full blown, credit-checking, sign the papers before they do knock down drag out mortgage fest. We offered, the other guy counter-offered...the seller couldnt have been happier... and when the smoke, lawyers,guns and money cleared...the beautiful 136 year old Victorian with more character than solid foundation went to someone else. Three days later, my teeth were still gnashing. We REALLY wanted that house. If any good came from it at all, it would be the fact that we had a clearer understandting of what our current house needs. Secondly, we found out what our current place is worth, which was pleasantly surprising. We now have work to do here, which isnt saying much, we always have work to do on the house.
Than theres my home away from home...
Wrigley Field is about to get an "extreme makeover" and judging by the pics, it looks exciting. Another ancient building in need of work. Like it or not, this is the house that Sosa built. Love him or hate him, his time spent here blasting balls onto waveland and sheffield helped pack 'em in and pay for the future expansions. Was he the single reason? No. Not by a longshot. (get it?) But he sure helped.
So thanks Sammy...good luck with the O's and let the games begin.
Pre-season watch: Cubs 2, THEM 0
WOOOO-HOOOO!!!

Do we have a winner?

The FBI wants to know!
I sent along a note to point out something I saw on another website...Going on a sketch and nothing else, Id say they have this case solved...check out the sketch and then look at the guy second from the right (with the festive Pillsbury Hateboy cap on)
Bingo?
Well see. In any event, I hope they all end up in the pokey, pun intended.

Home sweet headache

So this is the part where I decide if the events of the last 2 weeks are worth keeping a record of or not. The decision really isnt up to me at this point, but rather hinges on a precarious decision by someone I have never met. In the next 24 hrs, I will find out if the following words are the beginnings to the journal of our new home, or a disappointing waste of time. Here goes nothing...

At 11 am this morning I met with our real estate agent Mark, and a guy named Joe. Joe is a structural engineer, and we had him out to give our "dreamhome" a once over. He confirmed with me that the house we like is solid...old, but solid. He also confirmed that old saying, you snooze...you lose. The house, as Mark pointed out the day before yesterday, is under contract with another buyer. Had we listened to our hearts (not a smart business move) and not our fears, we would have bid on the house last week.
We stalled, and someone else came in with a bid.
Now the fun really begins. In order to get the house, we not only need a higher bid, unsecured by a bank as of yet...but a wing, 2 prayers...one arm, a leg and nerves of steel. Nerves of steel are not my forte'. Nerves of hard plastic, maybe. Steel I need help with.
Thats where Mark comes in. He knows this stuff, he's done this before. We decided we can't not have this house. As of 2pm today, we crunched numbers, signed papers, asked questions, crossed our fingers and set the wheels in motion.
The clock is ticking, and every time the phone rings I jump three feet.
It's out of my hands for the moment, and I'm hoping to write more about this adventure over the next few months. Let the games begin...

Cubs tix, hurry up and wait!

You know you have an addiction when the credit card company you used to feed it calls to ask if everything is ok. Starting at 9:30 am and continuing on through the night and early into this morning, Jill and I tag-teamed the "virtual waiting room" wait. Apparently the virtual waiting room is the online equivilant of getting a numbered wristband. SUpposedly this maddening wait-and-see game evens the playing field between common fans and the ticket hogs who snap up blocks of bazillions and re-sell them at a 900% mark up. What a load of crap. At the end of a long, boring, wait and see day, we finally ended up with tickets for a number of games, but not after a maddeningly jerky system booted us out over and over. Is it worth it?
C'mon now... Wrigley here we come!

Telefunny has it's own place on the web!

As some of you know, I enjoy cartooning as a hobby. I don't get paid for it in the traditional sense, for now giving other people a chUckle or two is payment enough.*
Now that I have a fancy schmancy scanner and some mad kwezzy web skillz, it only seemed right that the two converge to form "TELEFUNNY"... your one stop shop for all my cartooning rantings and ravings. It's just a teeny baby thing now but I hope to one day grow it into a large multi-national conglomerate worth billions pumping out crap merchandise for cheap and utilizing some of the finest skilled 8 yr old hands the government run sweatshops of Malaysia can produce.
KIDDING! Like I'd ever trust a Malaysian sweatshop. China, baby...all the way!
SEE HERE
So now for all the legal stuff I suppose. Ready?
TELEFUNNY IS A FREE WEBSITE DEVOTED TO POSTING ORIGIONAL ARTWORK DEPICTING WHATEVER THE ARTIST (THATS ME) DEEMS FUNNY. THE "TELE" OF TELE-FUNNY IS DERIVED FROM THE WORD TELEPHONE, WHICH IS LATIN FOR "TELEPHONY", WHICH IN TURN IS PIG-LATIN FOR "PORNO". AND AS YOU ALL KNOW, PORNO RULES THE INTERNET, WHICH IS WHERE TELEFUNNY HAPPENS TO BE LOCATED. QUESTIONS? READ THE FAQ PORTION OF TELEFUNNY ONCE I GET ENOUGH QUESTIONS ASKED TO ACTUALLY HAVE SOME BE DEEMED MORE "FREQUENTLY ASKED" THAN OTHERS.
INCINDENTALLY, IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM SHOULD THE ARTWORK POSTED AT TELEFUNNY, THE NAME TELEFUNNY ITSELF OR THE INTENT OF THE CREATION OF EITHER OR ALL AFORE MENTIONED THINGS RELATED TO TELEFUNNY TO BE CONSIDERED AN OPINION OF ANY PARTICULAR COMPANY OR INDUSTRY, EITHER AS A WHOLE OR IN PART. HERETOFOR MENTIONED PERTICIPLES SHALL BE SEQUESTERED AND ELIMINATED FROM ALL PARTY FOR TO WITH INTERAPPLICABLY AND SOLIDORNIFICATED,THEREFORE MAKING ME TEFLON AND OH GOD I THINK I'M HAVING AN ANEURYSM.

There, now that that has been settled, I'll have my lawyers give it a once over and go from there.
Peace and remember, keep laughing, no matter what, MMMMkaY?
Geez that sounded gay.


*(Note to large corporations, newspapers, magazines and other periodicals employing cartoonists for large sums of money...disregard that. You did NOT read the first part of this story. I enjoy cash by the boatload, small bills are fine...hire me now)

Good bye,Sammy...

Sosa has been traded to the Orioles.
A blog/rant to follow. In the meantime, I shall vent my frustrations in frozen water sculptures. Spring training, by the way, is almost here. REJOICE!!!!!!

The Rant That Never Was...Nyuk Nyuk!

Why is it that whenever someone decides one race is superior to another race, the person chosen to be representative is a complete wreck as a human being to begin with?

I posted a rant yesterday regarding some idiot thats working the media for attention. I have deleted it, as said idiot shifted gears and used the attention he gained as a springboard for a white supremacy webste.

Yawn.

There's not much more to say, and I wont be mentioning him again, the last thing a dweeb like him, or any skinhead needs, is attention. I suggest anyone who knows who I am talking about do the same.

Peace.

"Hey bud, Let's PARTY!"

Happy president's day, everyone!
Ok, so it isn't the REAL presidents day, bet hey, he's not the real president-so it's a wash. He is however, the people's choice, barely, by the hair of the last tassle on his worst pair of cowboy boots. Four more years folks, four. Get out your mad-libs and headphones, this ride is gonna be long, bumpy and probably full of pit stops to ask for directions.
What to do? I say PARTY! I say party like Jeff Spicoli. I say party til ya puke!
I say to ease the pain and dull the senses, we need to make these next four years a very hazy, foggy, bad memory. No need to dwell on details, we already know the outcome. The Iraqi elections will be a complete disaster-and no one in Washington will admit it regardless of the number of smoldering corpses of candidates piling up in the streets of Fallujah. After we claim victory in the name of freedom over there, we can regroup...turn tail and take the welcoming party to Iran, where we will again engage in a fruitless bloodbath. It's only a matter of time. And what can YOU do? Well, regardless if you are in the 51% for or 49% against, I say party till the cops show up, and try again in 4 years.
God help us, one and all.
Oh, and start here.

Who are these people?

Ok, I want to know...where are they?
WHO ARE THEY?
Who, on earth, are these crazed, uptight, closet-nun soccer moms and wimpy husbands who comprise the core group of the wacko organization known as
THE PARENTS TELEVISION COUNCIL?
Even the name scares me. If I saw it on a letterhead I'd surely run away, afraid I was next to be called in the principals office for a whoopin'
They're nuts(in my opinion, and I assume litigious as well). If you have never heard of them, surely you have felt the effects of them. They are almost solely responsible for the OMIGOD's and HOW-DARE-SHE! anti-controversies that swirled around Janet's wardrobe gaff. I poked around the website the other day, and was about to write them off, when I realized just how loose behind the wheel these people are. Read any of the latest news reports and you will see for yourself. Apparently the only thing decent enough not to warrant an absolute OUTRAGE is the video of the American flag, waving as the Star spangled banner plays the station to sleep. That and one re-run of Punky Brewster, episode 4 I think.
In keeping with my New Years resolution of pissing off people who piss me off, I dropped them a line.
Enjoy.
letters@parentstv.org
Dear sirs
or Madams,
I am a proud father of two children. I watch what they eat, wear, and watch on TV. I protect them as any father should or would.
My wife and I take pride in how we raise our kids, to be good, honest,hard working members of society. With a resume' like that you would think I'd sign up to be a member of your little group, but I just can't bring myself around to seeing your point.

I understand the need for watchdog groups, but seriously, your tactics approach lower standards than what you claim to be against. Do you really want to live in a society that is so close minded and anal that any utterance of a word or slip of the tongue is met with screeching soccer moms, hell bent on making someone pay?
Apparently so, since that seems to be the aftertaste your website leaves behind.
I would not have bothered to write, and really dont care for a response, but one thing caught my eye that really solidified the fact you are nothing more than a group of extremist cry babies. The cartoon you posted,depicting a man whos child was abducted, being told by an officer all the leads came from one neighborhood, so they couldnt be followed up.
How dare you?
To equate what you do, whine about language and situations that may or may not be "indecent" to that of a father whos child has been abducted. That, to me, is indecent.In fact it borders on sick.
But I should practice what I preach...and simply not visit your site. In fact, I might just start an email campaign on my own, and collect signatures of people who promise not to join your little pity party.
Seems like the decent thing to do.

Next up, this bunch of useless-as-a-poopy-flavored-lollypop hillbillies..YEEEHAW!

Ren Loves Sheila? We will see

It's now been 15 years since I promised myself I would start and eventually finish the comic book Ren Loves Sheila and so far nothing. I'm pretty certain it will never get done at this point. I'm too old to care anymore, the whole teen angst thing is long since dried up, and any time I spend on it now will be frustrating moment of me trying to remember why it was so important to start in the first place.
I wont say never, maybe not, probably not, I doubt it with a snowballs chance in hell but not never. Not yet, anyway.

G'nite, Krista puppy

Dogs don't last long enough. If I had one complaint that I could take up with the big guy upstairs about the operating system he installed down here, that would be it.
Dogs die too soon and it's a bug that should be fixed. I know, there are bigger things to take up with God, especially given recent headlines. But most everything else seems to have a "master plan." At least, that's what I've been lead to believe. But nobody seems to have an answer as to why Rover's mortality rate seems to be directly opposite to how awesome the dog was to begin with.
If I had this little site a few years ago, a post very similar to this would have probably existed, but with much more anger. The day I took our bulldog Barney to the vet to be put down was a day I'd just as soon forget. But I didn't have this site to rant and rave about it back then and it's probably just as well, emotions that cut that close don't belong on blogs anyway. Silly soliloquies about Cubs, bad politics and new haircuts do. And, maybe, the occasional passing of a freinds dog.
Last night I learned that a friends dog had gone. She was getting old and suffering the usual old-doggie problems, and even her "mom" Terri found it hard to deny her days were numbered. Krista, a Lab-something or other mix was rescued by Terri years ago from the road. The bond was instantanious and Krista became Terri's first "baby."
And damnit, she was a great dog. "Krista-puppy" was all I ever called her, cupping her doggy mug in my hands and kissing her snoot. That was my greeting for her, and she always seemed to approach me for it when we visited. Once she got it, she was good, and off she went to do her thing, which was usually accepting attention and similar greeting from everyone else.
She had a soulful, passive mojo about her. I liked that. I liked her presence, it was calming. And I liked the way she was loved by her owners. Early on, the level of devotion was made unmistakable when Krista was attacked by another dog. It would have been bad had it not been for Mark, her new "dad",who ran to the attacking dog and folded it in half with one kick. The other dog lived and it's owners got an earful. Krista had gone from homeless, possibly abused to loved, really loved, and completely protected. Over the years she returned the love she got time and time again. She saw Terri and Mark get married. She welcomed 2 beautiful "siblings" and played with kids all over the neighborhood. She was a part of every function and gathering that came her way.
When it was her time to go, it was her turn to find Terri. She probably couldn't do this alone, she couldn't just "go" without saying goodbye. She collapsed at Terri's feet from a stroke, and was put down the next day.
Terri was with her all night, and I imagine they both remembered every moment they had together.
Dogs don't last long enough. Maybe they aren't supposed to. In thier own way and in thier own time they help us figure out what to do with what time we have. They have us beat in that respect. They come into our lives, do what needs to be done, and then go. We get the memories. It's a pretty great gift, and who am I to question God.

REUNION!!! WAIT...It's been HOW LONG?

A few days ago at the stroke of midnight,our earth tumbled one more year closer to the Twentieth...wait that should be bold... TWENTIETH frigging year gone by since high school graduation. Jebus.
There must be some mistake!
Back-tracking the events of my life takes but a few seconds, and twenty years is just too many. Let's see, yesterday I played with the kids in the snow, the day before that I got married and, what, a week or so before that I was sweating the small stuff in 3rd period art staff with Mr. Randle busting my balls about taking life too seriously and that I should stop because one day I'd wake up and HOLY SHIT IT'S BEEN TWENTY YEARS ALREADY!!! Whoah!, no, my bad...nineteen.It's been nineteen years... Phew...ok, Im ok.
HOLY SHIT IT'S BEEN NINETEEN YEARS ALREADY!!!
I need a drink.

I have someone to thank for this wonderfulepiphiny /ephiphiniy for this revelation...a former classmate and friend trying to get a hold of me throught that blood sucking money wasting tease of a site called classmates-dot-com. They got a slick system over there of filtering all contact except the absolute very basic of all tid bits. You sign up for free, just enough to get a foot in the door and then the second you glance a name from years gone past WHAMMO they spring the fine print (and do so with the most refined smarmy-ness I have ever seen)
Found someone you know? Remember them from way back when? Dying to drop a line and say hi? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? THEYRE DYING TO HEAR FROM YOU, TOO, AND YOUR EVER SO CLOSE TO MAKING THAT HAPPEN!!! just pay this amount or that and we can hook it up!"

Bah! I say! It'll be a cold day in hell before they get a dime out of me! No sir, not this cowboy. Hell, I'm not even a cowboy! Where was I? Oh right...
It's driving me nuts. Sure,there's a few names listed I wouldnt mind seeing, a few I wish would sign up, and then theres Aimee. She's was a cool chick, probably still is. Her bio begins to mention she had kids and then she...*POOF, want more? PAY UP!
Well, good for her, I'm just hoping her bio doesn't end with "...the adadictome was a complete success and I finally changed my name to Frank." Not that theres anything wrong with that, but I'll be damned If I'm paying for that kind of thing when it's free at the YMCA. Not that I'd know. Where was I?
Oh yeah...
I'm old. Getting older. I wanted to go to the the reunion, sorta, but not really. I don't remember those people, I didnt hang with many people from H.S. and the few I did hang out with vanished after I got married. High School was the most stressful time of my life as far as family was concerned. I resigned myself early on to not revisit some of those moments and most of those people. I'm convinced I blocked a lot out as well. Hell, just the other day I found a binder filled...FILLED with notes passed to me froma girl I dated back then. Leafing through it, I was amazed at how I had forgotten almost every player in them, including most of the details about the girl I dated as well.

I dunno. What to do. Twenty years, huh? Well...I suppose It's worth a shot at seeing some old friends,(Jim, Russ,Aimee-aka-Bambi) and a chance to see how far some of the mighty have fallen (the entire football team)
I'll think about it. 
Peace,

"I got a bad feeling about this..."

His name is Jeff Tweiten, and he has an obsession. I understand the obsession. I have understood the power of the dark side of this force for as long as I can remember. It's an obsession rivaled only by my passion for a perpetually losing baseball team. It is a passion for Star Wars and it's a deep one.
I fully realize that, by admitting this, I run the risk of showing my true identity...a total closet geek with a side of general Sci-fi nerdosity. (I also fully realize that since no one reads this but me I don't much care.) It's not like it's a big secret anyway, come over to the house sometime...the Star Wars shrine I built at the bottom of the family room stairs pretty much gives it away. Figures, cars, books,models, even old drawings of Chewie and Han Solo from when I was...let's see, last Wednesday, adorn the small corner allotted to me by the wife. Once a majestic collection, it is now but a shell of itself, like so many Jedi masters glowing in the perifery. I love what is left, and shun any attempt at my "grown up" self to sell it off on ebay once and for all. With luck, it will accompany me to the retirement home years from now.
But enough about me, what do YOU think of me? I digress.
Back to Jeff for a moment. In the tightly drawn circle of fanatics like us it is not so hard to understand the desire, wish or even need to sit and wait, and wait...and.....wait. 5 months is a big bite to swallow for any fan, (especially this Chicago cowboy, folks, it aint happenin') But Jeff seems like he might be made of the stuff to pull this off, based solely on the video he posted on his blog. There's a nervousness about him that screams utter devotion. It's the kind of foot-shuffling, hand wringing, chain smoking obsession one might expect from any completely twisted fan faced with the challenge of being a part of something just on the larger than life side of whatever it is that grips them. Jeff will get publicity for this, maybe more than he expected, maybe less...and maybe in ways he never imagined or expected. And while the publicity and the idea that his name has been attached to, if ever so slightly, the Star Wars phenomenon is all well and good, there is a deeper payoff to all of this. The fleeting 15 minutes of fame we all are allotted mean so much more when they come as a result of chasing our passions. Way to go Jeff, stay warm...get used to raman noodles and creative urination and, as always, may the force be with you.
Yanno, to this day I can't hear those words and not want to reply..."and also with you..." Must be the Catholic in me :)

Ryno in the hall!

I interrupt this personal rant and rave fest to congratulate Ryne Sandberg for his entry into the Baseball hall of fame, Congrats Ryno-
Gee, that felt good...you know, Cubs news on my Cubs blog. This can only mean one thing...spring fever is just around the corner!

Who am I kidding, I've already been swinging the slugger in the garage and it's 30 degrees. Tonight the snow is falling, a lot of it. It's a monster, according to the talking faces on my TV thing.
But it makes no nevermind. Ryno is forever enshrined, and that is all that matters. For now.