Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of February 18, 2017
• There’s a special sense of accomplishment, renewal and thrill of driving your brand new car off the lot for the first time. I’m glad my wife was finally able to experience that this week.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of February 11, 2018
• Every time I meet with a recruiter, I feel as if they’re sizing me up for how they can best exploit my talent for their financial gain. The next time I meet with one, I’m going to blast out a sonic-rattling fart then let its heat and stench consume the oxygen in the room before breaking the tension with, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
For Those Who Pray: God Doesn’t Care and Neither Do You
In heaven, the man meets God and asks him, “God, why didn’t you save me from the storm? I prayed and prayed that you would.”
God replies, “You fucking idiot. There were the news warnings, the car, the boat, the helicopter. You had every opportunity to be saved. What more did you want?”
Let's Not Have a Military Parade, Let's Have a Military Blowout
If Trump wants to wave his military around like a child showing you the thumb nail-size booger he just dug out of his nose, Trump should do what America has always done: Have an airshow.
You go to all the landlocked airfields across this Great Nation and you bring in the tanks and the jeeps and the bombers and the fighters and you load them up with blanks and pyrotechnics and you press play. The swooping and booming and bursting will thrill We the People and show the world that we’ve got the hardware and funnel cake stands.
Notes from the Post-It Wall — Week of February 4, 2018
• There is no guarantee or promise that your children or parents will love you. There is no such thing as unconditional love. If you love your asshole dad or child, the condition is that they are your dad or kid and there’s a natural bond. But a bond doesn’t determine love.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of January 28, 2018
• I know a guy who sported a man bun for several years including years long after it was (miraculously) considered cool. He recently cut his hair and holy shit! He was bald under all of that long filthy hair. There’s nothing wrong with being bald but there is something really funny about growing your own toupee.
A Frenemy's Kind Words and Last Laugh
They were all from Michigan. Detroit area but not the city proper because they were white women, and white women don’t live in Detroit city proper. They were in Las Vegas for a girls’ weekend. Weezy and I got past the pleasantries. I asked the question she was always asked: “Is Weezy your real name?” Her real name was Linda. But she hated that name so she went by Weezy. I don’t remember where the Weezy name came from. I may have asked her if she was asthmatic. I don’t know. It was a long time ago and there was a lot of free vodka making the rounds. The name fit her. She was short — “fun size,” she told me — with short brunette hair. She was silly and smart. I liked Weezy. And I dug her polka dot skirt.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of January 21, 2018
• Vince McMahon is bringing back the XFL. I attended an XFL game in Las Vegas back in 2001. It was the third saddest thing I’ve ever seen. The first saddest thing was my dead dog. The second was the last time I had sex with an ex-girlfriend and her naked body reminded me of her father in a bathing suit.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of January 14, 2018
• When I hear Chicagoans complain about how harsh and foul the sub-freezing and sub-zero weather is, I think of the city’s earliest settlers. I think of their toughness, their resolve to thrive without central or radiator heat, or hand warmers or hot water heaters. And I think that Chicago’s earliest settlers were goddamn idiots for not saying, “Fuck the fur trade and this livestock shit. I’m going out west and becoming a professional surfer.”
Chicago Dibs: A Family Tradition
Rose wanted to serve a purpose. She wanted to improve people’s lives and give all that she could to make the world a better place. And that’s exactly why my paralyzed sister Rose was perfect for being a dibs space-saver.
Gentrification is a Progressive Boon
Think of how much better your life is with a neighborhood Target. You can get your clothes, your groceries, electronics and prescriptions filled all at one stop. You can’t do that at a small business shoe store or a bodega or a Radio Shack or a standalone pharmacy. And those smaller stores employ only a handful of people. Each Target employs hundreds. Sometimes those small stores are family owned and operated, so only one family makes the money. With Target, hundreds of families are able to earn money, in some cases with health benefits, too. This would not be possible without gentrification — without the renovation of a deteriorated neighborhood.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of January 7, 2018
• It’s funny to me that when it comes to reproductive rights, pro-choicers want women to be directly responsible for what happens to their bodies — no one else — when the reality is that a pregnant woman has very little choice as to what happens to her body once the fetus gets comfortable. And that’s even funnier to me if the fetus is a boy. And even funnier still if the fetus is a white boy. Pro-choice women pregnant with white males make me want to listen to Alanis Morissette’s Ironic on repeat.
Considering Chicago’s Dead Rats — An Existential Discovery
Recently, I watched a rat die naturally and it nearly broke my heart. It’s a strange feeling since I have taken the lives of so many rats before.
In our house, we refer to the summer of 2014 affectionately as the Summer of the Rat. Three out of seven days a week during that summer when I would take our dog, Eddie, out for his morning constitutional, I’d find at least one dead rat in one of the several rat traps we had set in our yard. While Eddie did his business, I tended to the business of disposing of the rat. I was always prepared to find one so I’d pick up the trap gingerly by its edges and drop it into the plastic trash bag I’d brought out with me. When Eddie was done, I’d use a smaller plastic bag to scoop up his poop and drop that into the rat bag, tie it up and walk it to the dumpster behind our apartment building.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of December 31, 2017
• I can easily find every excuse in the book to avoid writing a book.
The Yin and Yang of 2017: An End of Year List
As we near the end of the year that history will unfortunately remember as an utter shitshow of misguided pride and crippling uncertainty, and in an effort to throw some end-of-the-year-list clickbait on Literate Ape to continue to expand readership, I’m going to present a list of both the good and the bad of 2017. Looking at the positive as well as the negative is something I'm trying to do more of. It keeps me swimming and in most cases, laughing. All I ask is that you do not mistake my positivity as anything remotely influenced by a life coach.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of December 24, 2017
• Soren Kierkgaard said, “People understand me so poorly that they don’t even understand my complaint about them not understanding me.” Bro, I feel you, really. I understand.
Bag or Baby: Confirming My Excitement
My new leather bag and my baby are both currently in production. They’ll be here soon and I need to begin preparing myself for the change in routine. Just as my home office will move into Katie’s, my pencils and pens will sit in a different spot as they’re slung over my shoulder. Change is challenging. I have a really good idea of what my bag is going to look like. I chose the leather, size, pockets, lining. But I’m still not exactly sure what it will look like or how it will hold up and function. I have a really good idea what my kid is going to look like. It’s 50 percent me and 50 percent Katie. But I’m still not exactly sure what it will look like or how it will hold up and function.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Christmas Edition
• Israel thought it was getting Jerusalem as a capital city for Christmas this year. I guess it'll have to settle for that gift card to Ross Dress for Less.
My Friend the Dental Hygienist
Michele and I talk about everything. Family, work, drinking, commuting, wedding planning, our friends, our frustrations, pregnancy and pending parenthood… We’re about the same age and have seen each other out of our 20s and into our 30s. We’re of similar temperament so every six months, we share similar grievances that come with life’s transitions. We both got married around the same time. And now, she’s pregnant as is my wife. So the other day, while in the chair, we talked about our shared disdain for the uncertainty and discomfort parenthood will bring us. Yeah, we might have talked about some of the positive things that parenthood will bring us but that’s not what held our attention.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of December 10, 2017
• Eating Panda Express is a lot like suicide: It seems like the right thing to do in the moment but the results are always devastating.
Solitude is a sure way to avoid pain. I’ve waded in those waters before. Specifically with romance. But life is and must be a balance. Be flexible. Go with resistance. Be satisfied with life even it has you feeling the way you don’t want to feel. Protect yourself, push yourself. Balance. Survive. Find little ways to thrive in big ways.