Dear 6 Readers

Posting has been delayed here due to the fact notalot has happened.
Posts will follow when something interesting actually happens.

Until then, if you wish, you may browse archives (and feel free to comment) or follow my lame reblogging and lame original posts on my not-yet-blocked-at-work Tumblr.

Thank you.
Sincerely,
Mac

Flashback: around 1987 or 1988

See that clock?
I got it for a birthday in 1984, maybe. That little GE fake wood panel box woke my lanky butt up through some of junior high, all of high school and college, and most of the time I've lived in Chicago.
I still got that little guy. I now listen to WLUW in the kitchen, just did tonight for a bit as a matter of fact.
Still works great, for the most part, except of a missing knob on the front and a SKREEGGRRRCCRUMMPA sound when you adjust the volume.

Love that little brown fucker!

Well, back in high school, I was that regular guy. Sort of lost, geeky and weird, but normal enough to kind of fit in with most of the cliques one encounters in high school.

But I always felt like I wasn't quite in the right spot. I had/have great friends from that time. Best friends, a regular crew of dudes and dudettes who I loved/love. They always had my back against the Shop Rats jerks and the Jock and Jane Preppy crowds.

Even back then I recognized and liked the fact I had such a diverse mix of friends. I could pass a joint with one crowd, and then my buddy would gain me entrance into a football/preppy party the next night. I'd polish up my writing skills with my Journalism buddies (J. Leatherman!) or sneak into Dillion's with my other friends for Alternative "dance" Nights or a gig with Delicious Moss, sneaking beers or blowing a joint in the parking lot across the street. Or many weekends, we'd lower cases of Bud Light or Old Mil that I had hidden in my closet out my bedroom window, and just cruise The Circuit, hang at The Barn, or party with friends at The Abandoned House.

All and all, not a bad high school experience compared to some.

But always a little left of center feeling.

Until, right around this time, I discovered the best radio. Sunday nights, from 6 p.m. to Midnight on the local college radio station 88.3 FM all "alternative" music or "progressive" music (that's what we called it at the time, or punk). It gave me at least an inkling of a direction.

Sunday night of course, I had to go to bed for school the next day. And my parents bedroom door was across the hall from my door (about four feet away), so I couldn't listen on my regular stereo.

And that's where the fine radio pictured above comes in.

I'd shut the main stereo off for the parents, and then snuggle up with the GE one. It sat on the mattress, leaning a bit against the wall, to the left of the pillow. And I would discover an entire world outside my little town.

Of course, being the 80s, cassette tapes were the rage. You could plug the into a car stereo and fly down country roads after midnight, slugging down beers, and screaming about how you hated this shitty town and you couldn't wait to get the hell out; maybe move to New York, write for Rolling Stone, meet artists and musicians, live in a graffiti scrawled walk up loft on the LES, puke on the subway, and fall in love with a model because anything was possible in New York City! You yearned to be one of the Slaves of New York! You were praying and dying for the Bright Lights, Big City! You wanted to see what the hell Lou Reed meant by all the colored girls going doot-de-doot-de-doot!

Goddamn!

So you made a mixed tapes from the Sunday night shows. Hit record, let the tape record through the song, hit stop when the DJ spoke, rewind, hit record when the next song played, if it sucked, hit stop, rewind, play to a stopping point, hit pause, wait for the next song, hit record....repeat repeat repeat.

I think I still have most of those tapes except for one that had the songs "first time played at 88.3" from Nirvana's Bleach and others, eaten in my car stereo around 1997 at The Brickyard.

But on that first tape, ah that first tape, I am hearing some of the songs now in my head, was an amazing mix of punk, thrash, and hard reggae...thank you Mister DJ! And one of my favorite songs on that first one, I present to you below (it's the first 47 seconds of the video).

I'll see you in the cafeteria after fourth period:

"Supposedly she drank blood, but, yeah, she was a great kisser."

Ran into some people on Facebook, saw some OLD pics, and fell victim to a hit and run of nostalgia.
So, I randomly picked an old post and cracked myself up.

The Truth?

Sometimes, I think this lie, told to me with all the good intentions and love of family and friends, may be the root of my problems.

You're a good boy. You're a smart boy. There's someone out there for you. Just work hard and it'll all work out. You're funny. People are all good at heart. Etc, etc, etc.

I've always said as a youth and college kid, "just tell me, good or bad, just tell me exactly what happened."

Or something like that.

Mac: remembers Journalism 101 (vaguely)

Finally, all that slacking off at The Bank paid off (well, not exactly $paid$ off, but fun in any event). As you all (3 people) know, I spend about 99% of my work day here and here, passing time and attempting to be clever or something.

Progress made:

I got a caption used here.

And a photo used here. (okay, not my photo...she took the photo, but my Flickr stream was used, so that counts, right?).

In other news, my good friend Fresh is coming to town next week!!! That's right, I used 3 !!!'s because he's worth it. My main Wing man is flying in from across the pond for a little American Tour. Excellent!

We, of course, will be going out for a pint or two. Please join us, better yet, buy us rounds. And help me convince the mingy bastard he and his wife need to move to Chicago, eh?

I ain't got shit to say...

But R.D. has a story to tell!

Hopefully, it never turns out like that whole "toothbrush/Polaroid Spring Break" urban myth!!!

Out Before dark! Oh My!

The sun is still up, and I'm actually going out of the house on my one day off...too meet friends even!
My friend M.W. (one of the Z-Boys) is having a cook-out and outdoor movie in his back yard (cinema set-up thanks to the creative Doodlehead) and I'm going to stumble over there hung-over and coughing or not. Too many cigarettes, beers, and shots bought by the Mark II Lounge (#261) manager for me.
With sweaty headache in tow, I'm lugging my camera over there, so you may find cute kid pictures at a later date.
Nothing like the hair-of-the-dog outside to say SummerTime!
Okay, gotta go, I'm like two hours late.

Help me be Hip to Gawking eyes!

My friend and I have entered a bunch of slogans in Gawker's Slogan contest.

It's easy and fun! Yay!
Just scroll through the lot, and vote for the following:

(you would if we were true friends *wink wink cow-eyes*)

Got Guilt?
My Job Sucks....Do You?
Hispanic at the Disco
Jewslamic Christian
Got Funk, Need Noise.
Gawk Out With Your Cawk Out
Gawker Scratches My Itch
I don't stare at YOUR third nipple!
Awesome bin Laden
I came, I Gawked, I came again
I Totally Gawked Your Mom

Jesus Pimped My Ride: It Runs on Water

Jesus Turned Walter into a Wino

Single Cheap Easy

Come on, help a cousin out; I just want to be a small-time cewebrity.