David Himmel David Himmel David Himmel David Himmel

A Love Story

Jake and Caroline had been dating two-and-a-half years. They were introduced by Caroline’s best friend, Ronnie, who had met Jake on Tinder. After four weeks of drunken hookups that left her unsatisfied and him horribly embarrassed, Ronnie thought Jake would be perfect for Caroline, who was still recovering from a devastating break up.

Ronnie knew her best friend well and was sure that the thing Caroline needed to get her over the heartbreak hump was a quick roll in the hay with a handsome, mostly charming and funny guy like Jake. She was confident that because he was so bad in the sack, there was no way Caroline would fall for him and wind up in yet another relationship, which was her mo. Ronnie knew that the best thing she could do for her friend was help her break the cycle of disappointment.

Jake and Caroline’s first date was at The Whistler. They talked about Ronnie, how much they loved The Walking Dead and debated the better ride-share service, Uber or Lyft. She was Uber, he was Lyft. They got wasted on Sazeracs and had sex at her apartment. It was incredible for both of them. Caroline stopped taking sex advice from Ronnie.

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Contenders for the 2020 Presidential Election

In today’s political climate, the line between governance and campaigning is a mythical beast. Like the Loch Ness Monster, Sasquatch or a German’s sense of humor. Thus, there’s no reason to think that we shouldn’t be discussing possible contenders for the 2020 Presidential Election.

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Working On the Job

“All professional men are handicapped by not being allowed to ignore things which are useless.” — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

During freshmen orientation in college, our group of about 20 was asked what our career goals were. My initial major was hotel/restaurant management. The answers provided by everyone in that small lecture hall were strikingly similar. “I want to open my own chain of hotels. And be really wealthy.” I want to own an international chain of successful restaurants and be rich.” “I want to make a lot of money.” “Riches." "Nice cars." "Big houses." "Tax breaks.”

I was the last person to go. “Being rich would be nice. But as long as I have enough money to afford a few bowls of Cocoa Puffs each day, I’ll be happy.” It got a laugh. And that’s why I said it. I also wanted to depart from the apparent theme of money. And at the time, I meant what I said. But holy god was I wrong. Well, half of what I said was wrong. Following a change in major to journalism and with the benefit of two decades’ worth of hindsight, I certainly need more than a few bowls of Cocoa Puffs to be happy. But I was right in that money wasn’t the only driver for me.

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The News We Need and How to Analyze It

Growing up, my favorite thing to do was my most mind-centering, physically relaxing thing to do. That thing was read the Chicago Tribune’s comics while eating cereal or Cream of Wheat—if it was cold enough—before heading off to school for the day. My father teased me: “What’s happening in the world, David?” My response was always the same. “Garfield still hates Mondays.”

I didn’t read any other part of the newspaper, save for the movie listings when I was making plans with friends on the weekends. Since I only had enough time to shovel down two bowls of Cocoa Puffs, the funnies were about all I could fit into my busy schedule. Plus, I had no interest in the news. Outside of what happened to Dick Tracy or the kids in Fox Trot, nothing in that paper affected my life in any way. The news was for grownups.

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Talkin’ ’Bout My Gentrification

I missed the heyday of the Double Door, which had its locks changed and its spirit evicted from the shell it called home in the heart of Wicker Park for 23 years. As a high school kid from the south suburbs, the majority of my trips to the city for my preferred brand of music—and there were many of these trips—were destined for the Fireside Bowl. I left town for college in Las Vegas only three years after the Double Door opened.

When I returned to Chicago in June of 2007, I immediately began attending shows at the Double Door. And when I moved into the Bucktown/Wicker Park neighborhood in 2009, I cited easy walking access to the Double Door—and the Subterranean and other charmingly grimy, punk-artsy venues, restaurants and bars—as a leading reason for my choice in Chicago neighborhoods. That, and rent was reasonable for a single guy living on a freelance writer’s budget with a taste for cheap beer, artistic freaks, cute girls and good music.

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A Dark Prediction

I predict that President Trump is going to continue to meet his campaign promises swiftly and with(out) malice. And once he's done everything he said he would do, he'll resign.

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