Wednesday, April 2, 2008

I guess I owe an apology to Jesse Jackson. He was involved in getting Ernie Banks his statue at Wrigley Field. Apparently it was some sort of alliance between Mike North (El Norte) and The Reverend Jackson. Why do I feel like calling Jesse Jackson was a Mike North bit that backfired on him? “Ernie Banks needs a statute. Let’s call Jesse Jackson. What? He’s on the phone? Oh no!” I know how it feels. It happened once to me with Drew Peterson. Not that I’m comparing Jesse Jackson with Drew Peterson. We know where all of Jesse’s wives are, and to be fair to Drew, he has fathered no out-of-wedlock kids that I’m aware of.

Exactly one half hour into my hour on the treadmill today my left foot started cramping. I slowed the thing down to 2.5 mph (from my normal 3.0 mph) and continued with my workout. Then I heard and or felt a snap (I’m not sure which) and I was hobbled like James Caan in “Misery”. I am currently ensconced on the sofa in the basement writing my blog and dreading the trip up the basement stairs. It is embarrassing and depressing to get old. I’m hoping that maybe I’m just dehydrated or something like that, and that it was just a cramp. I’ve never had one that bad. I can see how it takes grown men out of football games.

The hotel in Lockport that caught on fire Tuesday morning wasn’t the upscale bed and breakfast I imagined it to be. On the news they called it a “transient” hotel. That doesn’t sound like fresh-brewed coffee and scones for breakfast, does it? The good news is that the people who lost everything in the fire didn’t have all that much to lose. The bad news is that they all got free debit cards from the Red Cross. In other ironic news, there was a diesel spill on the Stevenson today right before a bunch of independent truckers basically shut inbound I-55 down for some sort of low-speed gas price protest. Hey, our gas costs a lot too. Why take it out on us?