Frying Pan Into The Fire

It appears that the battle was won but the outcome of the war is severely muddled.

While the Friday night Juke Jams were shut down, the Metropolitan quickly rebounded by booking a “for ladies only” strip show in its space last week.

How do I know?

Easy---I simply asked a few of the ladies pouring out of the cars parked on my street.

They were all too eager to chat about where they were going and the type of show that was going on inside.

As a matter of fact, it seemed that tickets could be purchased in advance so there had to be some type of publicity or word of mouth. If I wasn’t in so much pain from my knee injury earlier in the week, I would have limped down there to see if I could have bought a ticket and seen the show.

More on my personal reenactment of the ice capades later.

These latest incidents reinforce my belief that whoever’s in charge at the Metropolitan is making some questionable decisions regarding the rental of their space.

Furthermore, I have serious questions about proper licensing and zoning issues.

Now I haven’t thoroughly checked everything out, but I believe our little piece of paradise is zoned residential, not commercial---but then of course I could be wrong.

Nonetheless, it’s always a good idea to run an party space in the same building as a substance abuse recovery program so what do I know?

Interestingly enough I did manage to find out that when one throws a large party or one where money an admission is being charged; it is the responsibility of the promoter or the host to make sure that the venue in question has all of the proper permits, licenses, safety features and apparatuses.

If the venue doesn’t have all of its ducks in a row, a responsible promoter would be crazy to stage his or her parties at the venue for fear of a possible lawsuit.

So caveat emptor when buying your ticket to these events. The party may be poppin’ but a panicked crowd of people in a venue that may or may have its permits, licensing and inspection by the fire department is a place that I have no desire to be.

Frankly speaking, that scenario is quite a possible with a novice or negligent party promoter.

I know what you’re thinking---Let’s not even talking about security and parking.

So while it would be easy for me to piss and moan about an impending disaster across the street, in actuality I don’t really know what’s exactly going on.

I don’t know who’s running the show.

I don’t know who’s promoting and hosting most of the parties.

I don’t know what type of setup the Metropolitan has or if our little hoody hoo is zoned for such a venture.

I don’t even know if neighborhood input would be welcomed or even considered.

But I’m sure as hell gonna find out.

Phyrric

Calls were made.

Concerns were raised.

The Juke Jame situation was assessed.

Long story short, it seems that some law enforcement types were none too pleased about an ongoing party for 14-20 year olds that they hadn't been informed about.

Discussion flourished.

But in the end the party was called off. Go figure.

A small victory for the 'hood, right?

Wrong---dead wrong.

Goodbye Juke Jam.

Hello strippers.

How Many Times Can I Invoke The Name Of Jesus In A Week?

You know what? I'm going to go and get a drink.

While doing so, I'll ponder the possible impact of this latest development on the 'hood.

Jesus take the wheel.

Milorad

The hair should have been the dead giveaway.

I knew I should have trusted my first impressions. But, no---I waved it off.

Then came word about the near daily commutes between Chicago and Springfield.

Then the family feud and all of the ensuing ugliness. That’s when the world was first introduced to the term “testicular virility.”

Sweet Baby Jesus.

Then he was the “first Black Governor of Illinois.”

Do not even get me started on that one.

Now rampant greed and runaway ego will cause the entire nation look on as yet another Illinois governor is under federal indictment.

But the cherry on top of all of this foolishness is how the Illinois voter is shocked by the goings on of Governor Blagojveich.

He got me once---I voted for him in ’02 hoping that he could wash away the stench of Ryan administration.

Yeah, I know I was a dumbass but I can dream the impossible dream can’t I?

After I got wind of the commuting foolishness ($26 million over the lifetime of his administrations), I knew this wasn’t the guy you let hold the cookie jar.

Yet more than one dumbass voted to have him hold the jar once again in ’06.

Now everyone wants to wag their fingers and cluck their tongues at his behavior when they as a voting body tacitly approved such shenanigans.

So now the great cry is heard and clothes are being rendered.

All they had to do was ask me. I’d would have let you in on the secret.

Never trust a man who’s constantly fiddling with his hair.

The More Things Change...

Just a few things that have been on my mind lately:

Despite the Chicago Transit Authority getting ready to committ legal robbery without a gun (translation: fare hikes), someone up there FINALLY started thinking from a rider's point of view by introducing the bus tracker program.

I swear it was sent from heaven.

You go to www.ctabustracker.com, click on the "estimated arrival times" link, find the line that you want, choose the direction and pick the stop. And right there before your eyes you have about the next three buses for your stop.

And when you're online the bustracker counts down IN REAL TIME!

Sweet Baby Jesus.

If you're getting dressed in the morning or trying to get somewhere on time, this thing is a godsend.

You want to know what's better?

This handy little utility can be accessed from any web enabled phone.

Now be forewarned, all bus lines aren't on the bus tracker yet but the CTA keeps on adding more with regularity.

Finally a real use for GPS. My days of running for the bus are over

Seemingly the more things change, the more they stay the same.

While I won't have to run for the bus, it won't matter much as I'm sure I'll slip and fall on the sidewalk that Mt. Carmel is supposed to maintain.

Long time readers know that this isn't the first time I've had issue with the snow clearing on the north side of the street.

It took forever to finally get a nice sidewalk. Even longer to get it plowed when the snow fell.
We haven't quite worked our way up to getting salt, but eyes remain heavenward and heads bowed.

Most people are griping that the city will let their side streets remain snowy and slick. Since we're used to the streets turning into sheets of ice before the plows get to us I say to the rest of the city----welcome to the club. Welcome to being treated like the colored.

Now you know how the folks on this little two block strecth of Nirvana on the south side feel.

Now we're back to practically begging Mt. Carmel to do what they should be doing in the first place.

The salt---that once again should be voluntarily spread on the sidewalk---would be icing on the cake

But no here I am again writing about the maintenance, or lack thereof, of our neighbor across the street.

You would think that at an school that prides itself on instilling moral character in young men would show a little to their neighbors.