A Sociological Observation That Goes Nowhere

There are two different ways I commute to work: usually via the Red Line, but sometimes via the Brown Line. The major difference I've noticed between these two is my fellow passengers' choice of reading material. The Red Line is a good mix of the Trib, the Sun-Times, magazines, novels, self-help books, extremist religious pamphlets, and "oh shit court is at 9:30 and I haven't read this deposition yet." On the Brown Line, however, there is a clear consensus on what to puruse: the Red Eye.

Much has been made about this tabloid-style news-lite publication, what it says about youth's apathy toward the meaningful events of the day, and its contribution to the downfall of society. But hell, I may as well add in my two cents.

My Red Line stop, Argyle, has one of the Red Eye hawkers out front of it lately, handing out free copies. He just sort of hangs out opposite the entrance to the station and gives papers to people who ask for them. The hawkers at the Brown Line Diversey stop, however, are on a mission. They get right in front of the door and shove copies into the unsuspecting hands of bleary-eyed commuters. They work it like church ladies with copies of the Watchtower. To escape without a paper feels like dodging bums with their hands outstretched. Do this for a couple of mornings straight and you'll feel like it's easier to just take the damn thing. You can always leave it on the train. Maybe you'll just take a look at the back page. Or the sex column. Oh look, Sudoku!

Now, suddenly, you've become a Red Eye reader. This is the way it happens. It's like with crack, except instead of just the first time being free, it's always free. Every morning. It appears in your hand and you're not quite sure how it got there, but you're glad it's around.

I'm pretty sure that whether they were handing out Red Eyes, Wall Street Journals, Books of Mormon, or excerpts from Mein Kampf, the Diversey riders would take it all the same. I'll go ahead and say that it's because they're probably half a generation younger, on average, than the people at Argyle. It's apathy, all right, but it's got nothing to do with young people prefering celebrity trash to international politics. It's just that they (we) (I) can't be bothered to seek out information on any subject. Whatever's handed to us, we take.

That's saying a lot, probably.

Not Likely To Come Up Often

Is there a correct response when two (obviously nuts) strangers on a train insinuate that you're half of an incestuous couple?

Thank You, Slate

First, it was Sudoku. Now, you've introduced me to a whole new way to waste time at work.

Street Scholar

While riding the Broadway bus last night, whatever the stop is just south of Irving, I witnessed a homeless woman, one of a pack of people gathered around an overloaded grocery cart, verbally assault our bus. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I'm sure she was making an excellent argument, as she was dressed in short-shorts, a halter top, and a mortar board.

My New Sudoku Technique is Unstoppable

I'm hooked, and now, I'm even getting good at it. This can bode no good for my productivity at work.

My New Internet Connection Is Unstoppable

I can post from home. Thus is resurrected Suitcase Publishing.

Billy Corgan Reintroduces the Public to His Ginormous Ego

Because nothing less than a full-page ad will do for the man who, on WGN's morning show today, proclaimed that he created alternative rock.

Such A Trendy Gamester Am I

I am completely hoooked on Sudoku after only two games. It made me feel like a genius when I filled in the Easy one, and like a fool when I couldn't even crack half of the Mild version. I'd hate to try Fiendish, but I'll work my way up.

Movie Version

In the movie version of my life, there would be some significance to the fact that I spend my days searching for people (while sitting still at a computer terminal!) and almost never finding them, but when I do find them, I get extraordinarily happy and proud of myself.

My Once and Future Profession

This may or may not be insightful, but it sure is amusing.

The Sound of A Thousand Hipster Hands Clapping

The most beautiful moment of the Ted Leo show last night... and even one of the most beautiful moments of the year... was the sea of (basically in-time) raised hands clapping along with the third verse of Timorous Me. It added to the wholesome, "we're back in high school and we're in a rec hall listening to punk rock and it's a clear summer night and all is right with the world" feel of the whole evening.

If I was drunk, I would have danced. As it was, I just sort of bobbed. But the sentiment was the same.

What A Deal

An actual offer presented by a scalper outside Sox Park this week:

"Well, I paid 25 for them, but I'll give them to you for 30."

An Improbable Phrase

While this article wasn't particularly interesting to me on it's own, there is a phrase written here that I can almost guarantee has never been written before. I will also give some kind of prize to the first band who uses it as an album title.

The key phrase?

"Raspberry flavored narcotic lollipop"

God bless science.

The Best Last Name Yet

Vanhooserspinks.

Yeah, get your mouth around that one.

Northwoods Report

Have just returned from a (slightly too long) trip to the North Woods of Michigan (not the UP, just slightly south thereof) to visit my family. This is the first time all of us-- all the cousins, aunts, uncles, everybody-- have been together, probably ever. This is usually my fault, for not showing up. This time, I showed up and completed the family portrait (taken at a buffet banquet hall on the outskirts of town decorated with fake wood paneling and lots of animal heads).

Highlights:

Actually getting to talk to my Uncle Mike, who I've seen only three times in my life, once every ten years (4, 14, 24). He's insane, lives in Las Vegas because when he came back from Nam the Michigan weather was just too much for him, doesn't drink, shoots big guns for fun. He's a great guy, basically. He and his wife practically begged me to come visit them.

Hanging out with my cousin Iris, the only little kid in the world that I'm not terrified of. The best part was her telling me about a dream she had about wolves in tutus. I wish I'd had it myself.

Riding a bike around Mackinac Island, which I didn't think would be fun at all but was actually very peaceful and beautiful. Made me decide to go reclaim the bike from the old apartment.

Eating some really good pie. I mean really, really good pie.

That's about it. Glad to be back to civilization again, though. Not enough noise up there; I could hardly sleep at night.

Shiny New Toy

I haven't taken it out of the box yet, but I'm very excited for my new laptop. Think of the mobile reporting possibilities. Perhaps my old computer self-destructing is the best thing to happen yet this season.