Chicago Storytelling in Bughouse Square – The Newberry – July 15, 2023

Last year, in regard to this annual event, I quoted Will Rogers about things not being what they used to be. This year, they were even less than that.

Last year, I visited the Society of Smallness table and exchanged small talk with them. But, after many years of underwhelming us with their underachievements, they didn’t make an appearance this year. Perhaps they had little left to say.

A few times, in past years, I’ve been entertained by the ragtag Environmental Encroachment Brass Band, and, last year, the Sheryl Youngblood Blues Band. This year, no offense, musically there only was a DJ whose job it was, I think, to help keep people awake between speakers in Ruggles Hall, which, as far as I know, despite being in a library, is not an eponym for the protagonist of the novel Ruggles of Red Gap, or the movie of the same name, wherein, interestingly, the actor Charles Ruggles plays, not the title character, but rather Egbert Floud.

Last year a couple of the scheduled speakers struck my fancy, including the one who talked about pigeons, a relevant topic when we were in the park as usual, but the threat of bad weather (even that’s not what it used to be – way more often now as Armageddon approaches), kept us inside, and the only orator I listened to was, coincidentally, Chad the Bird, who, in case you don’t know, is Chicago’s leading avian op ed columnist, who gave us the history of Malort, the iconic Chicago undrinkable drink.

The 2023 Newberry Library Award Celebration – Venue Six10 – May 5, 2023

Peter Coyote has been the narrator for 11 documentaries directed or produced by Ken Burns, but, it turns out, Burns can speak for himself, and did so quite eloquently in accepting the Newberry award and conversing about his career, and its genesis at Hampshire College.

But, as interesting as Burns was, the interview might have been a lot more fun if Coyote had been there for some sort of Billy Flynn/Roxie Hart “we both reached for the gun” moment.

After all, where would Burns be without Coyote? Speeding down a highway in New Mexico, unnoticed, with nothing chasing him? Regretting having chosen Gilbert Gottfried instead as his voice? Forgoing sound and following in the footsteps of 1922’s critically acclaimed silent documentary Nanook of the North? That might have worked for his film on The National Parks, but not so much for the ones on Jazz or Country Music.

Chicago Storytelling in Bughouse Square – Washington Square Park – July 30, 2022

“Things aren’t what they used to be and probably never were.” – Will Rogers

The ACLU was handing out flyers, but there were no soap boxes in the park. No anarchists in sight. No spectators shouting down speakers.

There were people hanging around, perhaps waiting for an argument to break out, but, times being what they are, the Newberry staff had to be happy to have a docile event, where the biggest controversy was the position taken by Northwestern professor Bill Savage that it was okay to put ketchup on hot dogs. Even I booed at that.

Savage had some interesting, less hot-button things to say about Edward Brennan and his years-long effort to successfully rename many streets and renumber addresses throughout the city, accomplishing things that many mistakenly credit as being part of Daniel Burnham’s Plan of Chicago.

The only other speaker I heard any of was Katie Prout, a freelance-writer, who, amazingly, had a lot to say about pigeons, a fairly safe topic.

I then headed over to the Documents Bureau table where Society of Smallness clerks listened to a random complaint I came up with for the moment and issued me a certificate granting me the authority to do something about it. I was going to snap a photo to attach to this piece, but when I got home I discovered that they, ironically, had given me somebody else’s document. Next year’s complaint.

Back to the main stage for Sheryl Youngblood and her blues band, who did a sweet half hour before more talking heads appeared and I disappeared.

American Writers Festival – Chicago Cultural Center and American Writers Museum – May 15, 2022

I’ve delayed writing about the American Writers Festival because first I wanted to watch the animated Love, Death & Robots on Netflix. Huh?

I went to the festival primarily to see my favorite living science fiction author, John Scalzi (which reminds me, Willie Mays celebrated his 91st birthday earlier this month), whom I first discovered at an AWM program in October, 2018, at which time I had yet to read any of his books (Scalzi, that is – I don’t think Mays has written anything, but he sure could do everything else). Since then I’ve read all 16 of his novels and one of his short stories.

But I didn’t know, until I saw Scalzi at the festival, that five episodes of L, D & R were based on other stories of his. So, I now also can recommend those, with a special shout out for When the Yogurt Took Over.

I was planning on going too to two other programs at the festival, but a staff member at the museum wouldn’t let me go to the ready room to annoy, I mean say hello to, Jennifer Keishen Armstrong (it wan’t a cold call – she does know me, honest) before she came out to do her live Dead Writer Drama podcast, which then caused me to lose interest in staying to hear her and later Peter Sagal and several of his closest friends for them to tell me how to write comedy, as if they could. This was not unlike how the actions of a couple high school teachers caused me to lose interest in studying for years. Also, I was lazy.

An Evening with Molly Shannon – Chicago Humanities Festival – Harris Theater – April 13, 2022

As with Bob Odenkirk’s book-promoting appearance at the festival, Tim Meadows played the role of interviewer, unfortunately, as I would have liked more of Shannon, and less of Meadows asking the audience if anyone had any marijuana they could give him.

On the positive side, compared to the Odenkirk interview, there was a lot less profanity, a better venue, and a readable book as part of the package.

One similarity between the programs was the guest saying that it was really hard to write the book. Shannon said it about ten times., which was nothing compared to how many times she said “yeah” in response to Meadows.

Appropriately, given the requests for marijuana, I haven’t heard someone say “yeah” as much since I walked into the wrong party senior year of college, where every other sentence was “yeah man.”

Shannon’s other most frequent responses to Meadows, when she could get a word in edgewise, were “that’s funny” (even if it wasn’t), that’s great (even if it wasn’t), and I don’t know (even if she did?).

Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, when Meadows said they were out of time, Shannon stood up and started riffing, taking over the stage and disregarding the fact that they had to clear the space for the next presentation.

If only Meadows had told her time was up an hour earlier, and then sat back and enjoyed her energy with the rest of us.

Chicago Film History: Seeing Selig – Chicago History Museum – March 23, 2022

I thought I was there to see Zelig, you know the guy who used to show up in photos with Woodrow Wilson, Babe Ruth, and others, long before photobombing was a thing and Tom Hanks inserted himself into every wedding shot he happened to be in the vicinity of.

Okay, not Zelig, but I also was good with seeing Bud Selig, former Commissioner of Baseball, though I wasn’t sure what he had to do with film. Apparently nothing.

So, instead I learned, from Jeff Spitz, a Columbia College Associate Professor in Cinema and TV Arts, about William Selig and his Selig Polyscope Company, which, as it turns out, was a big deal in the early days of the motion picture industry, building Southern California’s first permanent movie studio, after starting out in Chicago.

If you have one more online experience left in you, watch Selig’s thirteen minute, 1910 version of The Wizard of Oz on YouTube, worth it, if for no other reason, for the humorously rudimentary special effects.

In addition to being the studio to produce the first films of Tom Mix, Harold Lloyd, and Fatty Arbuckle, Selig, in partnership with the Chicago Tribune, is credited with inventing the cliffhanger, in 1913, with the production of The Adventures of Kathlyn, which the paper gave front page coverage to. Where would we be today without cliffhangers? Maybe I’ll tell you next time.

Bob Odenkirk with Tim Meadows – Chicago Humanities Festival – Music Box Theatre – March 2, 2022

Meadows interviewed Odenkirk in association with the latter’s release of a new book – Comedy Comedy Comedy Drama: A Memoir by Bob Odenkirk.

I love Better Call Saul, so I’m not anti Odenkirk. But . . . .

Odenkirk drops a lot of F-bombs. I’m not impressed.

Odenkirk thinks Sullivan’s Travels isn’t a very good movie. Not only is he wrong about that, but he also should know that it’s a much better movie than his new movie, Nobody, which nobody should bother seeing, except to enjoy Christopher Lloyd.

There were some high points to the program. Tim Meadows was very engaging. Giving several audience members stupid questions to ask Odenkirk worked. And Odenkirk’s closing by reading a “poem” about ice cream from his book put everyone in a good mood as they departed, and made me think about stopping at the Dairy Queen on the corner before heading for the car.

The ticket to the program included a copy of the book, which I’ll read, knowing that he has had an interesting journey and confident in the assumption that a good editor will have made it a better read than one might otherwise expect listening to Odenkirk’s articulation, or lack thereof, on stage.

A Scientist (Dr. Mika Tosca) Walks into a Bar – The Hideout – September 14, 2021

Professor and climate scientist, Dr. Mika Tosca, walked into the bar (well, really the outdoor patio of the bar) and kept talking as long as it took her to redeem the three drink tickets evidently provided to her by the establishment for her appearance. And they say teachers are underpaid.

A self-described rambler, Tosca, touched upon jet streams, jet travel, polar vortexes, hurricanes, wildfires, the ozone layer, particulates in the troposphere, and the Impossible Whopper, while noting that she prefers the term global warming to climate change because it sounds scarier.

Though Tosca, who works at the School of the Art Institute, optimistically explained how artists can generate a new vision of the future that can inspire change in the face of our present-day challenges, she also threw in the word apocalypse about a dozen times.

And, unfortunately, she didn’t offer any grand solutions, consistent with her suggestion that scientists aren’t very creative. But she did let us know where, online, we could see thermal camera videos of people farting.

The Theory of Nothing

Just because the world has ground to a halt doesn’t mean that I should stop writing, or does it? Have I misinterpreted the signs? Anyway, to help us all pass the time, here are some notes about some of the things I’m not doing.

Speaking of signs, and the stealing thereof, I’m not watching baseball games. I wouldn’t anyway, but my class on the Literature of Baseball at Northwestern’s Osher Lifelong Learning Institute will be held online, instead of in person, which means I don’t get to indulge in the delicious home-made brownies that a member of the class, who is a baker, brings each week.

I’m not watching March Madness or running my pool, which is a shame because I concocted some bizarre rules this year in the hope that no one else would understand them. In that vein, in the absence of games, I have declared myself the winner of the pool.

Despite having been the Wizard of Oz in Wicked on Broadway, Joel Grey apparently does not have the power to make everything right and so is not going to the 25th Anniversary Porchlight Music Theatre Icons Gala honoring him and neither is anyone else, including me, at least until it gets rescheduled.

I’m not going to the postponed Newberry Library Associates Night, where I was hoping to cop some free wine and cheese and then sneak out before the staff droned on about research that would have bored me to tears.

I’m not going to the American Writers Museum to listen to Gene Luen Yang talk about his new graphic novel Dragon Hoops, as he cancelled his in-person book tour, and instead, according to his website, is touring as a cartoon.

I’m not going to the Civic Orchestra of Chicago’s 100th Anniversary Concert, which was to feature Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5, which also was performed at the orchestra’s first-ever concert on March 29, 1920. I missed that one too.

A Scientist Walks into a Bar: Thermodynamics – The Hottest Science – The Hideout – March 10, 2020

Willetta Greene-Johnson’s Ph.D. thesis was “The effects of the exchange mode dynamics on vibrational phase relaxation at surfaces.” I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that Greene-Johnson’s colorful slides and good humor while somewhat dumbing down thermodynamics and entropy for the audience at The Hideout, gave off the kind of good vibrations that would have made her fellow Grammy Award winner, Brian Wilson, envious. (She also is a classically-trained pianist, who dabbles with the cello and clarinet.)

The room was packed and it seemed like almost everyone, myself excluded, lined up to ask questions after the presentation, questions that ranged from: Is the expanding universe a manifestation of entropy?, to What are the thermodynamic properties of love?, with a comparison of Greene-Johnson’s renaissance range of talents in science and songwriting to those of Tom Lehrer’s combination of mathematics and music thrown in for good measure.

Having just found out about A Scientist Walks into a Bar, I now am bummed out that I missed recent excursions into string theory, rockin’ around the gymnosperm, and how food works, but the good news is that there are 34 recordings from similar live Science on Tap events in Oregon and Washington available on Apple Podcasts and 44 seasons of PBS episodes available online. Forty-four seasons! I guess I must have been preoccupied. Still, despite the comfort and safety of listening from home, it’s just not the same as the excitement these days of being in a crowded bar, holding your breath for fear that someone near you may sneeze. (No one did.)