How I wasted my day after Thanksgiving

With some obvious exceptions (cops, firefighters, docs, poor, poor pitiful retail workers) there’s no good reason to go into the office on the day after Thanksgiving.

Take me, for instance: It’s a beautiful day by Chicago standards for late November. In fact, it’s like Northern California in late fall, with the temperature near 60 and the sun shining, mocking us no doubt, before winter hits sometime next week.

And I am sitting at my computer terminal with no actual work to do. I can get hold of anyone because everyone else is at home hung over on food, of if they are insane, at a mall. I wish I was biking or golfing or getting it on in a secluded privately owned parcel of land.

Just seeing if you were paying attention. I don't golf.

But, I am guessing that outdoor sex beats shopping, especially being among the easily-manipulated bargain hunting hordes who are willing to get up way too early, puppets of merchants and evil marketing.

Rather some dead leaves on your bare ass than some dimwit with a cart full of crap bumping into your booty.

Hey Madonna: Get back on the cross

Lame, lamer, and ...

The Madonna TV concert

I happened upon this while channel surfing and watched on and off until I could take no more, which is good practice for if you are ever tortured or would like to be.

Madonna used to be somewhat tolerable because she was a tramp with a sense of humor mixed with marketing savvy, a pop star a businessman could love and probably did on occasiom.

Now she’s Bono with dancers. And even gay people find her stuff way gay.

The concert was a complete waste of color TV because all the people on stage were dressed in black. If you went to one of these spectacles, you paid $200 or more but couldn't see a damn thing as everyone apparently blended into the stage. Plus, there's nothing live about the show anyone. I'm guessing the dancers are actually robots made the same place they get those people you see working at Abercrombie & Fitch.

Madonna has taken to playing the guitar, or at least pretending to, which is beyond silly. And her more recent music is a cross between Eurotrash techno and godawful simulations of Depeche Mode stuff from the 80s. Her song about New York was the worst New Wave song ever, worse even than the Safety Dance or Rock Me Amadeus.

Her outfit, though, was perfect: with some black feathers around her neck, she looked like a turkey or a turkey vulture, take your pic.



Also wounded: the U of I – Northwestern football rivalry.

OK, both teams sucked this season. But rivalries are excuses for good parties (see Cal-Stanford for example). The stadium was not even half full, most of the people there were older (meaning 40s and up).

The pussy band from NU broke off to hit the stadium, members stood in the tunnel apparently not wanting to get cold, or maybe not wanting to watch the game.

Actually, the game wasn't half bad, but the crowd was half assed.