Enjoy Your Weekend!

Catch some of Chicago's amateur House DJs here. And remember, when it has a "?", that means it can get pretty crazy!

Taste of Polonia 9/1 - 9/4

It's that time of the year. Time to get wasted on Okocim, Zywiec, and vodka. Fill up with some of the most artery clogging food you've ever tasted. And be sure to leave the English at home. At the Copernicus Center in the 5200 block of Lawrence. You can't miss it. Trust me.

The 219th Annual Carnival Ticket: Amendment 5

No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offense to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.



"For when the One Great Scorer comes
To write against your name,
He marks - not that you won or lost -
But how you played the Game."

The 219th Annual Carnival Ticket: Amendment 4

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.


That probable cause means you are the shadiest looking person they've seen, and you are driving like an idiot.

The 219th Annual Carnival Ticket: Amendment 3

No soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law.



There can be no greater insult to the people of an occupied country, than for the uninvited guests to set up camp in the house of their former leader.

The 219th Annual Carnival Ticket: Amendment 2

A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

Gun Deaths in the most industrialized nations in 1998:
Japan: 19
Great Britain: 54
Australia: 57
Canada: 151
Germany: 373
USA: 11,789

In 2003:
USA: 30,136

The US Constitution. The 219th Annual Carnival Ticket

In honor of the 219th anniversary of the completion of the US Constitution, a daily photo will be posted leading up the completion to honor not the people who have fought for our rights, but rather the garbage across this land that is protected by it. However, since I thought the date of the signing was the 24th of September instead of the 17th, I will have catching up to do. In any event, if it was the 24th, I'd have catching up to do anyway.
*Author's note: This is not anti-Government, anti-American, Prejudicial, or Racial. If you are abusing the Constitution, you should expect abuse yourself.
Day 1: First Amendment:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Munchausen’s Syndrome by Proxy at the Computer?

This is not an actual disease or public issue that most people know about. But I can’t help but wonder about some of the people I have worked with over the years. I have had my face in front of a computer for the last 7 years for various projects, daily tasks, and fantasy football. Aside from the occasional software upgrade, system maintenance, and mandatory desk side training, I have no use for our Help Desk, Tech Support, or Database Administrator. In fact, the only times I have ever needed them, were when my registry was wiped out due to a garbage cleaning program, and when the DBA called me to tell me to get my mp3s off of the server. If I would’ve known at the time 5GB of music taking up valuable client space was wrong, I wouldn’t have bothered. But I can’t help but wonder about the people that require constant attention from the computer people. There seems to be at least one in every office that has a Help Desk person at their desk once a day, to solve a major crisis that has only happened on their computer. They go through different PCs, laptops, sometimes monitors, and even cables, like most people change their water filters. What causes this? If you are a computer person by trade, perhaps you can provide input. The following are two examples of this nonsense that not only monopolizes valuable resources, but is flat out pathetic.

I Lost My Password and here is My Cleavage

The first one I worked with was a classic. All of my observations have been with women, by the way. She was THAT woman that you see in every movie that will hit on any testosterone in sight. Anyway, she had the standard issue desktop everyone at the firm had. Her job required no more computer heavy work than anyone else, but managed to find a way to damage her computer on a daily basis. At first, she had a PC they lay horizontal on her desk. If she wasn’t spilling coffee on it, she was getting items jammed in the CD drive. When it wasn’t a hardware issue, she would erase her icons. Or she would change file locations. Or she would lose links. Or she would inadvertently print out 3000 pages of nothing, mucking up her computer, and much of the intranet. Or she would changer her password constantly, and uses suggestive words as her new ones. She would somehow have unplugged cables and wires. Her mouse would get stuck. IT WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING. Each time a different guy showed up and corrected this issue as if he knew what it was before he got there. They thought it was funny for a while. Some even got to go on dates with her. But she was never ignored. In fact, if they were not at her desk in 10 minutes, the Help Desk phone combusted.


I’m too Important to Explain to you how Modest I Am

The other example is of someone who has not only monopolized the Help Desk, but also all of their hardware. Never in my life have I seen someone with three computers on their desk, who doesn’t have a computer related job. The reasons vary from using unique software, to large spreadsheets, to multi-tasking, to available memory. Name one program for me that is popular in any given professional field that cannot be supported on your average computer, and I’ll tell you that you are lying. Something cannot be popular if it can’t be used. It also cannot be popular if it takes more than the standard issue to operate. Most companies not only have limited licensing, but they have limited budgets to rent, operate, and manage these types of programs. Every day, a tech guy is at her desk, rerouting links, creating scripts, and defibrillating any one of the two PCs and laptop to keep the database alive. No one else in the office has this problem but her. Not only that, because it is a smaller office, help desk resources are much more limited. An email went out the other day stating that if we have issues with printing to contact them, as they will direct us to a network printer. My response to all, with heavy accusations, was “how are we to contact the IT Department if no one is ever there?”

Is it possible that these people are deprived of the attention they need to function on a daily basis? Do they feel that computer problems, and people solving them is a sign of importance? Is it possible that they are so incapable of using a computer, that anything they touch on it gets deleted? Why must they sabotage a harmless machine? Should they be held responsible? As far as I know, if I broke the coffee maker for the second time (accidents happen), I am paying for it.

The Bartender’s Fault

A simple golf outing with a group of friends turns sour thanks to a Wisconsin bartender. Eight men would head out to the first tee, one would not return.

It all started on an unseasonably warm April day. Unseasonably by saying it was close to 100F. An oven for Wisconsin at the peak of summer. Eight friends, four of them college buddies, Pete, Saul, Jack, Teddy, (names changed to prevent WWIII) and four other unknowns who were siblings of friends of friends, headed up to Indian Head Golf Resort (actual name withheld for liability purposes). Jack’s family had been coming here for the past 30 years. They arrived on a Friday evening just before the fish fry to settle in, grab some dinner, and hit the resort bar for a few night caps. Pete, who is hearing impaired, but also impaired in the judgment of knowing when to say when, quickly ordered rounds of Jager-bombs. Across the bar, planted at one side and spilling into an adjacent private room, was a corporate outing of a local software distribution company, and representing it strong in their baby-blue polos with insignia on the left breast.
A couple of hours pass and not much good news on ESPN, but the drinks are going down like beer at a bar. At about the sixth Jager-bomb, Saul and Teddy hear Pete, and a whole lot more, but cannot seem to find him. As they gaze over the bar to corporate America, they see Pete jack hammering his finger into the chests of three men, many times his size. Since there really was only 1 ½ sides to this story, the boys in blue won by claiming he staggered over and insisted they had “faggot shirts on”. When they disagreed, he said it was an insult to the Houston Oilers.
When they got Pete to his room, he was long over served. Not only did the bartender not kick him out after his one sided argument, he topped off his glass two or three more time. It was 1am, and they had a 9am tee off. 36 holes were going to be played on Saturday, and 7 hours of sleep is enough for any powerhouse, 30-something professional.
10am the next day. Jack, Saul, teddy, and the four unknowns were starting the fourth hole, and Pete was just peeling himself off the pillow. He missed 30 minutes of knocking, courtesy calls, and alarm clocks before they finally gave up. Finally the cleaning people woke him up, at the request of Teddy.
While golfing progressed for the Able Seven, Pete proceeded to pull himself together and head down to the bar. The crew pulled in around 1.30p and was going to wolf down lunch before a 2pm tee off again. They found Pete murderously slurring at the bar and gave him a tongue lashing. By 2pm and the first tee, Pete was barely able to hold his club. Jack drove him back to the hotel room to sleep it off, and more or less ground him. When Jack left him, he was in his room, spitting tobacco all over the place and cursing at the bastard for burning him.

From this moment (2.30p), onward, all is speculation. Facts have been pieced together by various sources. All will get their credit in due time. If credit is what they want.

Pete decided he was not going to stay in the room and wanted to catch up with the rest of the group. He proceeded out to the parking lot, which was an elaborate maze of parking spots, spaced over several acres. Pete made his way to his car and drove around looking for them. He never made it out of the lot, but instead got himself lost. He passed out in the car for a couple hours, in 100F heat, leaving people to wonder if the car was stolen. When he woke up from the nap, he made his way to the clubhouse and climbed into a golf cart. What is always amazing, is how someone in this level of consciousness, is able to go so far unnoticed. He again attempted to track down his group, and followed what ever paved paths he could find. Somehow he made his way into a rather exclusive sub-division that was adjacent to the club, and more or less part of it.

Whether he passed out behind the wheel, or began to hallucinate from the heat, dehydration, and alcohol, he made his way up someone’s driveway, and wedged the golf cart between two Lexus sedans in the garage, via an open garage door. How he got out of the cart is anyone’s guess, but proceeded into the house, where he found a couch and passed out again. This would’ve gone unnoticed for longer than it had, if Pete did not somehow tracked mud all over the home’s cream-colored carpet.

Hours may have passed, and probably did, but when the guy who owned the house found him, the first reaction to assess the damage, and then wake the intruder. He called the golf course rather than 911 because he saw where the cart had come from. He was pretty sure they’d appreciate it back.

He roused Pete awake with the poke of a baseball bat, and some venom in his voice. Pete managed to get back to the golf course, where his friends and management were waiting for him. The police had been notified and charges were going to be filed, and many of them. Fortunate for Pete, Jack was a lawyer and pulled every string he could to talk them out of doing so. Even so far as offering to pay for damages. Unfortunate for Jack, neither him nor his family will ever be allowed at the resort again.

While this story may make you laugh the first time you read it, when you’ve told it a couple times, it becomes a sobering experience (pun intended). What does it take to realize you’ve hit bottom? How do you sleep at night knowing you’ve over-served the over-served?