The "Other" Bail-out Plan for Detroit

Sunday, the Detroit Lions became the first team in NFL history to go 0-16.  To keep with the trend and general motif Michigan,  I think we should bail them out.  This idea is not so original...but read on.

The MO?  The 2009 Draft.

As a nation, it is our duty to see that no more embarrassment come to the "Motor City".  In my Bail-out plan, we allow the Lions to draft in '09 by applying the rules of the classic Parker Brothers board game, Scrabble.  The new rules would read as follows: You may use a [draft pick] to exchange all, some, or none of the [players and/or coaching staff]. To do this, place your discarded [players and/or coaching staff] facedown. Draw the same number of [players and/or coaching staff] from the pool, then mix your discarded [players and/or coach](s) into the pool. This ends your turn.

As described, Roger Goodell would place his hand inside a cotton drawstring bag filled with the names of current Lions AND potential draft picks.  He would then pull out names and Voila!  Brand new Detroit Lions!  There is a risk, of course, that the commish might pull out "dumped" players, (i.e. Jon Kitna/Dan Orlovsky).  

In exchange, the new and improved Lions promise reform in an effort to become an endzone viable team.  

Bozo Blagojevich

In 2001, Bozo the Clown's Super Sunday Show was cancelled due to "increased competition from newer children's cable channels".  So what became of the lovable, pie-throwing Clown?  I suppose most might assume Bozo retired; hung up his over-sized shoes and hit up the Big Top in Tahiti. 

I suspect otherwise.

I think he became Governor of Illinois.     

Maybe Governor Blagojevich thought he could play the Grand Prize Game with President Elect, Barack Obama's senate seat?  I bet Jesse Jackson Jr would have coughed up some cash if there had been Archway Cookies and a crisp one-hundred dollar bill at stake.  

Blago, you're a Bozo.  Give it up and resign already.

Break-in at 600 N. Michigan

Seriously?  The most ridiculous things happen to me.  

I actually got off work at a reasonable hour this evening (before midnight) and as a result of the early dismissal, everyone was particularly anxious to scoot out the door.  Apparently... very anxious.  And apparently, surprisingly fast.  Immediately after clocking out, I grabbed my belongings and went directly to the ladies room.  I couldn't have been in there any longer than 2 minutes but by the time I was making way to the front door, all of the upstairs lights were out.  Upon reaching the front door, I found myself to be alone with the rhythmic beep of the alarm.  "Well, this can't be good," I thought.   I put my hand on the front door, closed my eyes and pushed.  

Locked.

I looked out to Michigan Avenue in time to see two Eddie Bauer managers strolling away across the busy intersection.  I flung my body against the window; both fists clenched and banging against the cold window pane like Fred Flintstone screaming for Wilma.  Shrieking, I called out to the Magnificent Mile for help.  I pounded so hard that my vibrations rattled down the giant "Holiday Sale" signs from the two story windows and simultaneously set off wildly alarming security alarms.  (As an objective side note, the alarm was entirely effective as a deterrent. Any robber, thief, or crook would probably pee themselves; God knows, I almost did.)  

Still screaming and erratically slamming my body against the huge windows, the passers by stared at me with looks of wonder.  "Yes, I'm looting the place in a trapper hat, Hollister jacket, Abercrombie scarf and furry snow boots... HELP ME".    

Alarms blaring, lights flashing, and the window display rapidly being destroyed by my seizure-like fit, I saw my managers do a triple-take  and sprint back to the storefront.

Needless to say, they settled the alarm and apologetically let me out.  Coincidentally, I've decided that the buddy-system is extremely underrated.   

   

Romeo and Joliet

A few nights ago, I drove to Joliet to see the national tour of "Movin' Out".  My married friends, Katrina and Mike very sweetly invited me out to see their one night at the Rialto Theatre.  Mike stage manages the production and Katrina sells the goods (merchandise).  The show was magnificent; the theatre was beautiful, but nothing topped seeing old friends.  Katrina and Mike had to get back to work shortly after curtain, but I can't wait to see them again.  

My analysis of Joliet?  I didn't find the prison, but I also didn't have my Blues Brothers soundtrack (or my sunglasses at night) so I'll have to go back when I'm properly outfitted.  I did, however, see Harrah's Casino.  It was difficult to miss the Vegas style flashing white lights amidst the quaint little mid-western town.  Apparently, Joliet is one of the fastest growing cities in the mid-west.  With Harrah's Casino, the Infamous Joliet Prison, and Route 66, how could it not be?  Joliet is Jumpin'.  

 

Wednesday Grumblings

Retail (psycho)Therapy

Allow me to start off by saying how thankful I am to be employed during such a tough economic time.  It is a joy and a blessing to receive a paycheck every week.  That being said... 

I have a college degree and I'm preaching about a $9.99 ice scraper that is one of "Oprah's favorite things".    

...

It kind of makes me sick to my stomach.  How I went from penning critical essays on Chekov and the Moscow Art Theatre to pitching ice scrapers (Mitten included!!!), I'll never know.  One thing is for sure, after the holidays, it is time to get serious about finding a more sustainable job.     

CTA Happenings

I've had a few interesting occurrences as of late which I am deeming blog-worthy.  (Please excuse my brevity; I'm pooped.  I sold a LOT of ice scrapers...)  

A few days ago, the woman next to me on the train began clucking like a chicken.  There was clearly something wrong with her, but I couldn't help but wonder if I should toss out some breadcrumbs.

Today, a man got on the bus who was tripping so hard his upper-body went catatonic while his legs pulsated rapidly.  He may have been having a seizure of some type, and as much as I wanted to help, I knew it was potentially dangerous for me to get involved.  There were two other twenty-something girls who were also eyeing the situation.  Randomly, the three of us, complete strangers, said that if he moved towards us we were going to defend each other.  Jessie, one of the girls, thought the guy was a heroin junkie.  She was from Detroit; so we'll take her word for it.  Either way, it was a little freaky.  I guess I must be adapting to city-life quickly.  Although these events were a bit strange, I wasn't shocked or surprised.  

Hugs not drugs!