Bally’s Chicago Casino – September 12, 2023

Prior to today, I had been in 5 different casinos, the most recent being in 2019 in Las Vegas. I didn’t indulge in any of the games there but spent a fair amount of time in the casino nevertheless, holding my breath every step of the way due to all the cigarette smoke, as walking through the maze of machines was the only way to get to and from my room in the hotel.

I’ve also stayed in a hotel with a casino in Santa Fe, but at least there the bulk of the gambling was done in the lower level, out of harm’s way. There was a small blackjack room on the lobby level that I entered in order to watch some friends participate, but didn’t stay long because the floor manager apparently decided I might be helping them count cards, even though they were all losing faster than I can count, and politely asked me to leave, which resulted in me and my companions instead trying to crash a wedding in the hotel, from which we also were summarily ejected.

My hotel casino trifecta started on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. I actually did play a little blackjack there, as I was young and foolish and it was back in the days when you didn’t have to mortgage your home to sit at the table. If I recall correctly, a bold assumption, I may have walked away slightly ahead.

I walked through a casino in New Orleans as a shortcut to get in out of the unbearable heat and humidity.

I once spent about 10 minutes in a riverboat casino in Dubuque. I have no idea why.

So, it was out of curiosity, and with no expectations, that I decided to enter the spanking new Bally’s Chicago casino, feeling secure by the presence of two police cars parked in front and a policeman at the door.

My stay lasted approximately five seconds. The noise wasn’t too bad, as it was 11:15 am and not crowded, at least on the first floor, but there was enough evidence to support bringing ear plugs for any return visit, though one is not likely.

The neon lights almost made me wish I had cataracts. Fortunately, I still had my sunglasses on.

The line of one person in front of me was enough to dissuade me from proceeding further, along with the thought that providing my identification would undoubtedly result in a barrage of junk mail promoting the venue and other gambling possibilities. I also managed to escape any facial recognition by pulling my baseball cap down, just like thieves do in all the tv crime shows I watch.

History Happy Hour Trivia – Chicago History Museum – March 22, 2023

The term happy hour first became popular in the early 1900s, descriptive of weekly Navy shows to entertain sailors at sea. During Prohibition, it became associated with alcohol and speakeasies.

In 1989, Illinois outlawed happy hour in an effort to curb binge drinking and drunken driving.

One part of the law required that drink prices “must be the same for all customers, for all purchases for the whole day.” Liquor-license holders responded by initiating happy days, perhaps inspired by the TV show of the same name, given that the stars of the spinoff, Laverne and Shirley, worked in a brewery, albeit in Wisconsin.

The ban was ended in July 2015 and neither that, nor any of the above, has anything to do with the trivia contest at the museum, at which my ad hoc team tied for second, no thanks to my trivial contribution.

Still, I considered it a victory, as we tied a team made up of history teachers, and, by not winning, didn’t have to take home the tote bag prizes.

During the lulls between rounds, what passed for entertainment was provided by Creative Weirdo (to be fair they were hard to hear), a twosome who also are the authors of the forthcoming new musical Adventure Sandwich: A Sandwich Adventure!, which you will not see reviewed here.

Lincoln Park Conservatory – December 9, 2021

A walk through the Palm House of the Lincoln Park Conservatory is like going to the grocery store, except that that section of the building is a lot hotter than Trader Joe’s and I’m relatively sure you’re not supposed to sample any of the plants, even though they’re named things like sausage tree, red shrimp plant, lobster claw, flowering banana, and purple waffle plant (though I couldn’t find a maple syrup tree, or a butter plant for the lobster).

There was a Chinese money plant, but one Yuan currently is only worth 16 cents, so I didn’t bother looking for any that might have dropped off into the soil, besides which a sign said that a small dinosaur would feel at home in the Fern Room, so I felt that it was more important to keep an eye out for those little critters.

The Orchid House had a sign pointing to one of the flowers that said “Smell”, which seemed problematic given that, upon entry, I had been told to keep my mask on at all times, but I tried anyway, and thus can report, after a deep inhalation, that an orchid smells a lot like the inside of a mask.

Running on Empty

Mithridatism is the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. I wouldn’t try a similar strategy at home in regard to COVID-19, but I have decided that it’s safe to experiment with it in regard to the boredom that has accompanied the pandemic. So, don’t go crazy trying to fill every day with things to do. Set aside an increasing amount of time for boredom each day until you can go a whole week doing nothing and thinking nothing of it. I’m calling this the teenager model.

Against all advice I learned from my mother, I’m now intentionally not putting things back where I found them. This new plan of action forces me to engage my higher mental processes more, as there are currently no other activities for which theses abilities can be put to better use. Not only am I forced to remember the new location, I also must get creative in terms of repositioning things, thereby incidentally discovering hiding spots I didn’t know I had and increasing my storage space. And, when I can’t find something I’ve moved, I no longer get upset or worry about the possible loss of cognitive function.  Rather I treat it like a one-person game of hide and seek, where I win either by finding the item or by successfully hiding it from myself.

The Mystick Krewe of Laff 28th Annual Mardi Gras Bash – Speakeasy in the Big Easy Feat – City Winery – February 22, 2020

How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Paree?

The Mystic Krewe of Laff’s bash is promoted as being the biggest Mardi Gras event in Chicago. I don’t know if that claim is accurate, but even if it is, I’ve seen Paree, or rather I’ve seen the Krewe du Vieux Carré in New Orleans. It was 2012 and the theme was Crimes Against Nature, and they meant it.

In New Orleans, the party was outside, where Mardi Gras parties should be, and where you don’t mind standing, unlike in the City Winery, where they oversold the event and didn’t have enough seats, though seating for all had been promised.

In New Orleans the music was better, sounded more like New Orleans, and wasn’t as hard on the ears as the piercing din at the City Winery, though fortunately I was prescient enough to bring earplugs.

In New Orleans the food was better, as City Winery was apparently promoting a bland-food diet. How do you make jambalaya tasteless?

In New Orleans the costumes were more interesting, though a lot of people, not me, tried their best at the City Winery. They just didn’t understand the difference between flapper attire and the decadence and debauchery associated with a real carnival.

In New Orleans there were mule-drawn carts with kegs of beer and other libations on them, which, I admit, might have been somewhat challenging at the City Winery and probably in violation of several laws.

At the City Winery, people were handed beads at the door. In New Orleans, you had to earn them the old-fashioned way.

Other than all that Mrs. Lincoln, I enjoyed my first visit to City Winery.

Earth Day Work Release – Washington Square Park – April 27, 2019

In case you remember the Pogo catchphrase, “we have met the enemy and he is us” but not the 1971 Earth Day poster wherein it gained its fame, here it is.

Earth Day originally was proposed to be on the first day of spring, March 21, in 1970, but then, for reasons beyond my ken (though I suspect it was so that a politician could claim credit over the peace activist who actually originally proposed it), was changed to April 22. Perhaps the later date was to ensure good weather. Surprise. Snow storm today!

This was my fourth year helping out in Washington Square Park, spreading mulch around a dozen of its trees (but who’s counting), as others did much the same, wheelbarrowed in the mulch, swept up debris, performed administrative duties, or drank coffee and chatted while attempting to look engaged.

As in the past, I didn’t read the waiver I signed (don’t do this at home) or ask for a copy of it, so I don’t know if it said anything about the effects of breathing in mulch fumes. I’m not suggesting that there was any particular reason for concern, but, after all, it was mulch, complete with wood chips, and I can’t help but think about the movie Fargo.

I tried to stay upwind as much as possible and avoid deep breathing. I also brought my own gloves and wore them at all times, though now it occurs to me that I should throw them out to be consistent. Hopefully the complimentary donut holes weren’t in any way infected.

Maybe next time I shouldn’t spend the days leading into Earth Day reading The Royal Art of Poison: Filthy Palaces, Fatal Cosmetics, Deadly Medicine, and Murder Most Foul.

 

 

 

 

Spring Forward – International Music Foundation (IMF) – Union League Club – March 27, 2019

As Master of Ceremonies Robbie Ellis informed us, the IMF event we were attending was to raise money for the International Music Foundation, which puts on the Dame Myra Hess Memorial Concerts, the Rush Hour Concerts, the Do-It-Yourself Messiah, Make Music Chicago, Live Music Now!, and coming this summer, concerts with Gallagher Way Chicago; not for the International Monetary Fund (also IMF), which apparently is doing okay without the need for a fundraising event, as its website says it currently has one trillion dollars available to lend to its member countries.

Perhaps the International Music Foundation should give up its 503(c) status and resurrect itself as a country to qualify for a loan. Unless, and maybe even if, the Music Foundation attempted this by ceding its physical space (i.e. offices) in order not to impinge on U.S. territory (though I wonder if the offices could be turned into a consulate – query, can you have a consulate without a physical home country?), the Music Foundation might not be able to declare independence without United Nations approval. I’ll let the lawyers work that out.

Becoming a country could add a second fundraising technique to the Music Foundation’s arsenal, however, as displayed in the book and movie The Mouse That Roared, wherein the Duchy of Grand Fenwick, on the verge of bankruptcy, declares war on the United States, with the expectation of a rapid defeat that would lead to the inevitable post-war aid from the U.S. to help the Duchy rebuild.

Until the Music Foundation can implement my suggestions, however, it will have to rely on fundraisers. This one included performances by Marguerite Lynn Williams (harp), Richard Lin (violin) with Chin-Yi-Chen (piano) Diana Newman (soprano) with Brian Locke (piano), and Ellis, with Locke on piano, performing his own Symphony No. 1 in Eb, a comedic performance that I cannot do justice in trying to describe, but highly recommend you listen to as providing a perfect ending for this recap.

Life is a Cabaret

Break out the chocolate. This is my one hundredth blog, all posted in less than eight months. Who says I’m not working? I’m just not getting paid.

What started out as an offhand thought about chronicling my retirement activities, has turned into something of an obsession.

My first challenge was the technical aspects of setting up a blog. I didn’t know any six-year-olds who could help me, so I had to figure it out myself, with help, one time, from a faceless technical assistant, in another country, on my provider’s chat line. I’m still trying (halfheartedly) to figure out how to make the blog’s email account work.

I had no idea whether anyone would be interested in reading my rambling reflections. I figured out early on, however, that I enjoyed writing them. As long as I amuse myself, and no animals are harmed in the process, what the heck (but thank you to my loyal followers, whose kind words I appreciate – if you blog in a forest and no one reads it, does it say anything?).

I’ve never had the intention of trying to monetize the site. So you won’t see any ads and you shouldn’t get any spam based on being a subscriber or visiting the site. This is not The Facebook.

I did consider the possibility that, someday, theaters might deem it worthwhile to give me free tickets, but there are three things standing in the way of that – they don’t know I exist; my readership is too small and I have no interest in marketing the site other than through casual conversation; and the theaters might prefer something other than the detour-heavy, top of consciousness, keep it short, look for the joke style I currently employ, even if I do try to spell their names right.

A nice side benefit of the blog is that I now have something to talk about when meeting people (given no job to complain about and no grandchildren).

Another benefit has been the increase in my activity due to the responsibility I feel to my readers to go out and find things to do, for the story value. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make, and better than sitting alone in your room. Thank you Elsie.

Lincoln Park Zoo – May 15, 2018

Just as I was about to enter the zoo, I encountered three staff members trying to recycle (see photo of one staffer with a telltale blue container) a snapping turtle that apparently had escaped captivity. He wasn’t hard to run down – he was, after all, a turtle – but bringing him to justice proved to be a little more difficult. I learned two lessons – it’s easier if, unlike in the photo, the open end of the container is facing the deserter and be sure to protect your hands when handling a snapping turtle (the unseen staff were procuring thick gloves to aid in the eventual arrest).

I came across two more handlers having problems, this time in regard to opening a door to let a rhinoceros back inside from his outdoor pen. The animal stood motionless, nose up against the door, until it suddenly butted its head against the door, with great vigor, apparently out of frustration at its exile during what was probably its lunch hour. At that point I decided to move on before we reenacted a scene from Jurassic World.

Speaking of Jurassic World, while I saw recent zoo additions of plains zebras and a female polar bear, I didn’t see any dinosaurs, which, if you believe a recent ad, not only exist, but also have been domesticated, sort of. Make your day by watching the video about a velociraptor being used as a service animal.

On my way out of the zoo, I passed a mother asking her child whether he knew why flamingos were pink. I wanted to interrupt and say, “because they weren’t cooked long enough”, but I resisted the impulse to scar the waif for life. The thought did make me hungry, however, so I stopped for lunch at Cafe Brauer, making sure not to order anything that I might have just seen while wandering around the zoo, so no turtle soup.

Glass Blowing – Ignite Glass Studios – April 27, 2018

It’s not everyday that you get invited to a birthday party at a glass blowing studio (great idea). My uncle had done glass blowing as a hobby for years, but he was a scientist with expertise in combustion, so I took no comfort from his experience.

I learned the following things: You don’t mix red with any other color because it overpowers the other color. You don’t touch certain parts of the blowpipe because it’s really hot (good tip). And you don’t tug on Superman’s cape (okay, I already knew that one).

You wipe the end of the blowpipe off with alcohol to clean it before blowing into it. I don’t like to drink and drive, so I opted for making a paperweight (even though I haven’t used paper in years), for which you don’t have to blow (so I don’t know what to call what I did).

The staff of the studio kept things simple for us (thank you), but I think we used things called pincers, markers, blocks, tweezers, and paddles, based upon my post party investigation (https://www.thehouseofglassinc.com/dictionary.htm). The most important tool, however, was the staff, without whose considerable help we would have wound up with items that looked like they went through the transporter in Jeff Goldblum’s version of The Fly, instead of the very nice pieces we crafted.

There were many conversations at the party, but my favorite (which I gratuitously mention for a couple of my followers) was the one I had, with a guest who knew him, about the eating habits of former St. Louis University Billikens basketball coach Rick Majerus. You just can’t pick that kind of information up on the street.

The only thing missing from the party was background music. Perhaps a nice oldies medley including Ring of Fire, Glass Onion, and Blowin’ in the Wind would have been appropriate.