Guest Blogger: Shawn Wood

Shawn Wood is a commercial litigator and partner with the national law firm Seyfarth Shaw LLP. Shawn is also a monthly columnist for Chicago Lawyer magazine and a recipient of its Annual Writing Award. Most recently, he was honored by the Chicago Daily Law Bulletin as one of its "40 under 40 Attorneys To Watch" in 2005.

The following piece is his column from the September issue of "Chicago Lawyer." He's graciously allowing me to reprint it here. Since this article first appeared, the particular case he's writing about has been dropped. It's still entertaining, however...







MULLET CASE TESTS BOUNDS OF LEGAL PARODY

By Shawn Wood




Some call it transcendentally dreadful. Others describe it as “all business in the front, all party in the back.”

Call it want you want, but the infamous Mullet haircut is making headlines again based on litigation filed in the Northern District of Illinois by Miller Brewing Company against Los Angeles-based Brandlab, Inc and retailers Nordstrom and The Buckle.

For the unenlightened (or at least for those who have never driven through Northern Indiana), the Mullet is a uniquely hideous hairstyle cut short in the front and long in the back. It was sort-of in vogue about 20 years ago, especially among the members of Styx and Journey.

Perhaps seizing on the ironic celebration of the notorious haircut on various websites (such as mulletsgalore.com, which details the subtle but important distinction between the euromullet and feathermullet), Brandlab distributed t-shirts reading “It’s Mullet Time” and “Mullet Low Life,” which mimic the logo and slogan of Miller Brewing Company.

Miller Brewing Company wasn’t laughing.

Miller has shown a great sense of humor in many of its own witty parodies lately, but proving the old adage “consistency is the last resort of the unimaginative,” Miller has decided there’s nothing funny about “Mullet Time.” Miller sued Brandlab, Nordstrom and The Buckle for trademark infringement, trademark dilution and unfair competition arising out of their alleged sale of the Mullet t-shirts.

History suggests there can be a causal relationship between the sudden loss of one’s sense of humor and the desire to institute trademark litigation.

For example, Bill O’Reilly and Fox News found no humor in the use of O’Reilly’s image and Fox’s “fair and balanced” slogan on the cover of one of Al Franken’s books. They filed an action in the Southern District of New York, where the court ruled that consumers understand the difference between a book associated with Fox News and one that was skewering it. Franken thus lodged a successful parody defense, and the publicity from the lawsuit propelled his book to the number one slot on the bestsellers list.

A similarly humorless reaction may explain a pair of cases that established the now settled rule of law: JUDGES LOVE LESLIE NIELSEN. Photographer Annie Leibovitz, accordingly, was unable to enjoin ads for the third Naked Gun sequel, which spoofed her controversial photo of a pregnant and nude Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair. The court held that the ads, which featured Nielsen’s face on the body of a pregnant model striking the same pose (now try to get that mental picture out of your head), demonstrated the necessary “joinder of reference and ridicule” to constitute a protected parody.

Eveready likewise lost its attempt to enjoin a Coors commercial, which featured Leslie Nielsen dressed like the Energizer Bunny. This Northern District of Illinois decision featured the now classic reasoning: “Mr. Nielsen is not a toy (mechanical or otherwise), does not run on batteries, is not fifteen inches tall, is not predominantly pink, does not wear sunglasses or beach thongs, and would probably make a better babysitter than a children's gift.” (No clue what prompted the qualifier “predominantly,” but we get the picture.)

Commentators discussing the so-called parody defense in trademark law often cite the Second Circuit’s explanation that “a parody must convey two simultaneous and contradictory messages: that it is the original, but also that it is not the original and instead is a parody.” This definition has always made my head hurt. It reminds me of Orwell’s definition of “double think” from 1984.

Others question whether there are any settled rules for determining what constitutes a parody, IP attorney and legal commentator Baila Celedonia observes “[a] review of trademark parody cases gives us no bright line rules. Rather, they appear to be a barometer of both the presiding judge’s sense of humor and sense of fairness.”

I think Ms. Caledonia is onto something here. The “Sense of Humor Barometer” could be formalized into some type of ranking system and incorporated into Sullivan’s Judicial Profiles.

Miller might not have lost its sense of humor. The brewer might simply want to avoid having its products tarnished by association with such a dopey haircut as the Mullet. (If the association had been with Elvis’ pompadour in the 50’s or George Clooney’s “Caesar” in the 90’s, there might have been no objection.)

But Miller should certainly expect to face a parody defense in the Mullet litigation, though it is unclear whether Brandlab was taking satirical aim at Miller, the mulleted masses, or both. The defendants may also challenge whether there could be any reasonable likelihood of confusion, given that high-end retailers evidently sell the “Mullet Time” shirt (and when’s the last time you saw a standard issue “Miller High Life” t-shirt at Nordstrom?)

Should such defenses prevail, Miller may suffer the same harsh fate as Fox News where the increased buzz from the litigation only increased the sales of the allegedly infringing item.

And those who contemplate similar litigation might heed the words offered by the unabashedly mulleted Jim Belushi to his best friend in About Last Night: “Don’t ever lose your sense of humor, Danny. Don’t EVER lose your sense of humor.”


If you missed any previous guest bloggers, click here: http://rickkaempferguestblogger.blogspot.com

Half Empty: Pabst is Back! We blame ourselves

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.






"Pabst is Back! We blame ourselves"
By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern






You read that right. Pabst Blue Ribbon is now a very popular brand of beer.

It’s our fault, too.

We failed an entire generation of Americans. We just assumed that no one needed to be told anymore. We didn’t even worry about kids discovering Pabst because surely the liquor store owner or barkeep would fill them in at the point of purchase.

“Um, son,” he would say, “You know you’re buying Pabst, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We haven’t sold any since 1979.”

“So?”

“It tastes like carbonated urine.”

“So?”

“Just say the word Pabst.”

“Pabst.”

“Now make the sound you make when you’re vomiting.”

“Pabst.”

If only that conversation had actually occurred.

Think about it, baby boomers. We didn’t even mention Pabst Beer for an entire generation because we thought it was so obviously bad that no-one would dare make the mistake of buying it. That was our mistake.

If you haven’t noticed, the kids today are latching on to many of the trends from the 70s, from the long hair, to the gooey pop tunes, to the fashion. Many of those are also big mistakes, but it may have taken the resurgence in the popularity of Pabst to finally get our attention.

These kids didn’t live through this history. They need it to be spelled out. Even things that we assume are obvious.

Engage the youngsters in conversation. Let them know that the following items are not to be revived under any circumstances…but most importantly tell them why.



1. Jonathon Livingston Seagull
This was a wildly popular book and movie. Let’s have the conversation now. Ask us anything you want about it.


“What is it about?”

“A seagull.”

“A talking seagull?”

“No. Just a seagull.”

“What happens to him?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

If that’s not clear enough, maybe we should just add this: DON’T READ IT OR WATCH IT! YOU’LL NEVER REGAIN THOSE TWO HOURS OF YOUR LIFE.



2. Leisure Suits
These were all the rage in the mid-to-late 70s. Everyone had at least one leisure suit. Ask us anything you want about them.



“What is a leisure suit?”

“A shirt-like jacket and matching pants.”

“Like a suit?”

“Sort of, but more casual.”

“So it’s comfortable?”

“No, actually it’s made out of polyester, so it’s even less comfortable than a suit.”

“But I thought you said it was more casual.”

“It is. It looks worse than a suit, and it’s less comfortable.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

If that’s not clear enough, let us spell it out: THE ONLY REASON WE DON’T TALK ABOUT LEISURE SUITS IS BECAUSE WE’RE COMPLETELY HUMILIATED THAT WE EVER FELL FOR THEM.


3. The Symbionese Liberation Army
This was an anti-corporate group of middle class white radicals in the 70s who hoped to create an uprising against the government and the corporations that run everything. Ask us anything you want…


“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“What?”

“The anti-corporate part.”

“Do you think corporations control this country now?”

“Yes.”

“So do you think the Symbionese Liberation Army was even remotely successful?”

“Oh.”

“Ask me what tactics they used.”

“What tactics did they use?”

“They robbed banks and kidnapped people.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Exactly.”


That’s just the tip of the iceberg, kids. You’ll be hard pressed to find a decade with worse ideas than the 1970s. Please, we urge you, don’t make us live through it again. It would leave a terrible taste in our mouths.

Kind of like Pabst.



If you missed any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Suburban Man: Immigration Integration

By Rick Kaempfer



I didn’t notice this trend when we first moved back out to the suburbs ten years ago. It wasn’t until my kids started school, that it started to hit me. This suburb has changed dramatically since I lived here as a boy. According to a recent story in the Chicago Sun-Times, many of the other Chicago suburbs are also changing in the same way.

And I, for one, think it’s great.

When my family moved out here in 1968, we were among the first immigrants to integrate this amazingly homogeneous suburban society. My sister and I were very young (5 & 4), and we didn’t even speak English in our household. My family had only been here slightly more than a decade, and had lived in a Chicago neighborhood with a circle of fellow German immigrant friends, none of whom spoke English in their homes either. Moving to the suburbs meant moving out of our comfortable German bubble and into America proper.

How German were we? My mother actually sent me to school in lederhosen because she had no idea how strange that looked to the other kids. I had to learn English in school. I played a sport, soccer, that the other kids in the neighborhood didn’t even know existed.

Every time I watch my sons play soccer now I relive those childhood memories. There are dozens of kids on these teams going through the same thing I went through in 1968. We have Polish kids, Mexican kids, Indian kids, African kids, Arab kids, Asian kids, and just about every other nationality you can name.

It’s not the similar experience, however, that makes me smile when I watch immigrant kids with their families. It’s the differences. For one thing, immigrant families are common in the suburbs in 2006, and nobody bats an eye. The "normal" American kids don't consider it odd at all.

It was a little different in 1968. As my mother puts it now: "the school nurse was calling us every day." The bigger kids picked on me physically. They made fun of my name, my heritage, my sport, and our accents (Hogan's Heroes didn't exactly help, either). I felt like a freak...and I was a white kid. I can only imagine what it would have been like for an Asian kid, or an Indian kid, or an African kid.

I can point to the precise moment my life changed forever. The neighbor boy Stu rang our doorbell, and said: “Hi, I’m Stu, and I’m going to be your best friend.” Stu took me under his wing, showed me what it was like to be a normal American boy, and helped transform a dangerously shy German boy into just another kid in the neighborhood. By the time second grade started, it was effortless. I felt I belonged.

Kids today don’t need a Stu to rescue them anymore because they have a whole classroom of Stus. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. A Vietnamese boy named Phat (pronounced just the way you think it’s pronounced) just moved into the neighborhood and none of the kids made fun of him. In fact, they embraced him. The “normal” kids were interested in learning about life in Vietnam, and they instinctively knew that it was their job to help him adapt to America.

The political correctness of today’s American society, mocked by many adults, has a positive side that isn’t discussed nearly enough. Largely because of the political correctness in our schools, America has become a more tolerant society—and that tolerance has even reached the formerly homogeneous intolerant suburbs. My own kids can’t even comprehend that it wasn’t always this way.

That's the part that makes me smile the most.


If you missed any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

SHORE MAGAZINE ARTICLE: "Oktoberfest"

By Rick Kaempfer



(From the current October/November issue of SHORE MAGAZINE www.visitshoremagazine.com)



It started as a wedding celebration. 198 years ago, Prince Ludwig of Bavaria married Princess Therese, and invited the entire city of Munich. More than 40,000 people showed up to party, and an annual tradition was born.

Other than a few minor improvements (like moving it up a few weeks to avoid colder weather, and eliminating the horse race), Oktoberfest remains basically the same today: A big outdoor party with free-flowing beer, German food, and Oompah bands. Anything claiming to be an Oktoberfest that doesn’t include those things is not authentic.

While Munich is still the Oktoberfest headquarters of the world, the large German-American population in this country has helped the tradition spread here. The largest Oktoberfest is held in Cincinnati (over 500,000 attend each year), but don’t forget that Chicago is also famous for its many Oktoberfests.

Chicago-Area Oktoberfests

If you plan it right, you can go to an authentic Oktoberfest in the Chicago area every weekend for an entire month. All of the following Oktoberfests have the four essential ingredients (Tents, beer, brats, and oompah).

German-American Fest-Oktoberfest (September 8-10), 4800 N. Lincoln in Chicago
This extremely popular Oktoberfest is always staged the weekend of the Von Steuben German Day Parade. It starts the Friday before the parade (the parade is at 2pm on Saturday September 9), and continues through Sunday night. There’s no cover to get in, but tickets are required for beer and food.

Fox Valley Oktoberfest (September 15-17), 815 S. Randall Rd. & College Green Dr. in Elgin
Billed as the largest and most-authentic 3-day Oktoberfest in the Chicago area, this fest is put on every year by the German-American National Congress (D.A.N.K) and the South Elgin Chamber of Commerce. Admission is free and so is parking. Fox Valley also has a carnival for the kids.

Lake Zurich Oktoberfest (September 22-24), 24955 North Rand Road in Lake Zurich
The food lineup in Lake Zurich also includes vendors like Culver’s and Brothers Ribs. Admission is $5.

St. Alphonsus Oktoberfest (Sept 29-Oct 1), 1429 W. Wellington Ave, in Chicago
One of the city’s oldest churches was built and founded by German Americans and celebrates it heritage with a weekend Oktoberfest celebration. Admission is $5.

Indiana Oktoberfests

Some of the recent nearby celebrations like the Oktoberfest at Moser’s Farm and the Laporte County Fairgrounds Oktoberfest will not be held this year. Moser’s Michigan Street Café in New Carlisle will have some Oktoberfest events (574-654-8466), and other German or Austrian restaurants will have Oktoberfest themed-celebrations, but if you want to attend a full-scale traditional authentic open air Oktoberfest in Indiana, you may have to travel a little south.

Anderson Oktoberfest, (September 28), 32 W. 10th Street in Anderson, Indiana
This traditional (although it’s only one day) Oktoberfest has been an annual event for a decade. They have German food, music, dancers, and beer, but unlike other Oktoberfests they also have an activity area for artist demonstrations including glass blowing. Anderson is located in Central Indiana, southwest of Muncie and northeast of Indianapolis.

Seymour Oktoberfest, (October 5-7), downtown Seymour, Indiana
Seymour is the hometown of John Cougar Mellencamp, and the site of the most popular Oktoberfest in the state. Seymour’s Oktoberfest has been going strong for more than 30 years. Of course they have the big three requirements, but they also have a parade, a carnival, contests and a flea market. Seymour is located an hour south of Indianapolis on Interstate 65, where it crosses U.S. 50.

Michigan Oktoberfests

The German American National Congress (D.A.N.K) in Benton Harbor (2651 Pipestone) has an Oktoberfest celebration two Saturday nights (the 21st & the 28th) in October, but for the bigger events, you’re going to have to travel a little further north.

Pentwater Oktoberfest, (October 14), Village Green & Village Pub in Pentwater, Michigan
This one day Oktoberfest has an entertainment tent, live auction, classic car and hot rod show, dance contests, a strudel bake-off, and of course beer and brats.

Frankenmuth Oktoberfest, (September 14-17), Heritage Park in Frankenmuth, Michigan
This is the premiere Oktoberfest in the state of Michigan. Frankenmuth’s celebration is the first Oktoberfest outside of Munich to be sanctioned by the Bavarian Parliament and the City of Munich. In its 17th year, Frankenmuth’s Oktoberfest has it all: Entertainment recruited from Germany, traditional German food and beer, amusement park rides for the kids, and even Wiener Dog races. Admission is $8 for adults, ages 15 and under are free. Frankenmuth is located just north of Flint on I-75.

Oktoberfest Etiquette

Whether you attend an Oktoberfest in Illinois, Indiana or Michigan, there are really only two things you must know once you arrive.

#1: The words to “Ein Prosit.”
#2: The steps to “The Chicken Dance.”

Ein Prosit

Every German band will play this song at least a dozen times a night. You’ll recognize it quickly. The lyrics go like this:

“Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, Der Gemuetlichkeit.
Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, Der Gemuetlichkeit.”
(Translation: A Toast, A Toast, To Happiness. A Toast, A Toast, To Happiness)

When the song is over, the spoken toast begins immediately. It goes like this:
“Oans, zwoa, drei, Gsuffa”
(Translation: One, Two, Three, Guzzle)

Ignore the toast and the order to guzzle at your own peril.

The Chicken Dance

While this isn’t technically a German tradition, it has become a staple of American Oktoberfests. Here are the Chicken Dance steps.

1. Face your dance partner.
2. When the music starts, open and close your hands like a chicken beak four times.
3. Put your thumbs in your armpits and flap your wings four times
4. Wiggle down to the floor four times
5. Clap four times
6. Repeat first five steps four times.
7. Lock arms and spin your partner.
8. Change Directions and spin again.

Off you go

Now that you know how to assess a proper Oktoberfest, where to find some in the area, and what to do when you get there, you have all the information you need except for one last piece of advice.

Bring a designated driver.

You won’t be sorry.







Rick's Note: I appeared on the Spike O'Dell show on WGN Radio a few weeks ago to promote this article, and I've been told that I didn't use the full name of the "German-American Fest/Oktoberfest" on the air. I merely gave the address, mentioned the parade, and praised it as my favorite Oktoberfest in Chicago on the #1 morning radio show in town (with hundreds of thousands of listeners). To those of you who were offended that I didn't mention the whole name of the fest while giving thousands of dollars of postive free publicity to the German community on the most popular radio show in Chicago (And I've heard about a few of you indirectly)..the next time you hear someone say "Some people are never happy," they're talking about you.

Guest Blogger: Kim Strickland

Kim Strickland is a pilot for a major airline, a novelist, and a mother of twin boys. Her novel "Wish Club" is about a women's book group that reads a novel about witchcraft and tries one of the spells for fun, only to have the spell actually work. Nuttiness and mayhem ensue. ("Wish Club" is coming in 2007 from Three Rivers Press, a division of Crown Publishing Group.)

Kim is the yin (City Mom) to my yang (Suburban Man). In our dueling columns we've discovered that the only real difference between us is our area codes. Oh, and I think she's a chick, too. And a mom. Check out some of her other great columns if you get a chance: (City Mom)


"Time Sinks"
By Kim Strickland


I was up to my elbows in thorns and roses and madder than a hornet to boot. I was stuck in a time-sink project.

The trellises holding my rosebushes had fallen down—thanks to a thunderstorm the night before. We had company coming over in three hours. Our icemaker was busted and we needed ice. And the inside of my house looked like the after-effect of George Bush’s foreign policy. The last thing I needed was a time-sink, but there I was, wrestling with a rosebush, watching precious time slip.

My friend Deb was the first person I ever heard use the term “time-sink project.” I immediately latched on to it. I don’t know if she made it up or heard it somewhere else, but it was a term that didn’t need explaining. Time-sink projects filled my days.

A broken car. Or a pipe that bursts. Perfect examples of time-sinks. By definition, the worst part about a time-sink is when you’re finished, you’re not ahead, but merely back where you started.

Time-sinks are frustrating, but it wasn’t until I became a parent that they began to enrage, rather than just frustrate me. I remember going out to the garage to change a car seat that had been peed in. I wasn’t mad at the son who’d done it—these things happen to newly potty-trained boys. (Well, okay, maybe I was a little mad.) But I was furious at the Chrysler Corporation and their stupid tether-strap latch that I couldn’t get loose. I was mad at Graco, the company that made the car seat, for making their tether strap hook so incompatible with Chrysler’s latch. I was mad that this project was taking longer than it should have—longer than I’d anticipated—and that something that should have been so simple had become so difficult and that I’d been completely stymied before I could even complete the first step: remove car seat from car.

I cried over that car seat. I sat in the back of the Jeep swearing and crying over a piece of furniture and I remember thinking, “It’s finally happened. I’ve lost the rest of my mind.”

I was at that point with my roses: distraught that the trellises refused to stay up despite my repeated efforts and that one of the main canes had splintered beyond repair. I was repeatedly getting scratched with thorns and was starting to look like I’d been in a reality-TV show catfight. A thorn had broken-off in my thumb, the sharp end embedded in it like a splinter and I couldn’t pull it out. As I swore and ranted in the backyard I wanted to blame anyone or anything else. I was acting so crazy it’s since made me wonder if it were more than a coincidence that, two days later, the for-sale sign went up in my next-door neighbor’s front yard.

My husband, on the way to the store for ice, stopped to help. His calmness, his analytic approach and his understanding at my frustration was the marital equivalent of pulling the thorn from the lion’s paw.

I wish I could be that calm in the face of a time-sink. Perhaps it's because he doesn’t have to deal with as many of them as I do. He spends his days in the business world—used to results. Or maybe he’s just used to being in a world where everything is a time sink.

Regardless, we’re all busy. We want our projects to produce results.

I suppose I could have left the rose bushes sagging, taken care of them the day after the party. But that splintered cane—it broke my heart. I took it, cut the end clean, dipped it in rooting compound and stuck it in the ground, tying the branches up along the fence. It looked beautiful that night and although I ended up cutting back most of it, the cane is still green in the ground. Perhaps it will survive. A positive time-sink result.

At the party that night, a friend said to me, “Your roses are so beautiful, I could weep.”

I smiled, said, “Thank you,” and told him sometimes, they made me weep, too.


If you'd like to read any previous guest bloggers, including Kim's three previous posts, click here: http://rickkaempferguestbloggers.blogspot.com

Half Empty: Middle Age Nursery Rhymes

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.




"Middle Age Nursery Rhymes"
By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern


As parents of young children, we have to read the original versions of the following nursery rhymes all the time. They were no longer speaking to our generation, so we've updated them. Feel free to contribute some of your own.


Humpty Dumpty put up dry wall,
Humpty Dumpty tried to install,
All the kings ransom soon left his house,
And Humpty was left with a told-you-so spouse



Middle Aged Horner sat in the corner
Eating his Christmas pie,
His stomach went numb, so he ate some Tums
And ruined his diverticuli


Old Billy Joel,
Ran into a poll,
And registered 1.3,
He called up his guy,
For his third DUI,
And Old Billy Joel copped a plea



Jack was nimble, Jack was quick
Jack bent over and slipped a disk



All around the young girl’s desk,
The old boss chases Tammy,
And just when she gets into his range,
Pop! Goes his hammy.





Little Miss Muffet (pronounced Muf-fey)
sat at a Buffet,
Eating too many trays,
when along came her mother,
Who looked down upon her
And frightened Miss Muffet away


The itsy bitsy bladder,
Had an unblocked route,
But up came the prostate,
And soon it trickled out,
Back in his bed,
He fell asleep and then,
The itsy bitsy bladder,
Felt so full again.



One, two, it must be the flu,
Three, four, your body is sore,
Five, six, your stomach kicks,
Seven, eight, something you ate?
Nine, ten, pregnant again.




If you'd like to read any previous "Half Empty" columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Suburban Man: An interview with the 53rd President of the United States

By Rick Kaempfer










He’s still refining his political positions, but you have to give four year old Sean Harrison Kaempfer credit—he’s not merely the creation of a worn out Washington political consultant. No sir, on his fourth birthday (Today!), Mr. Kaempfer has some definite positions on the issues facing American society. His opinions may change slightly between now and the day he is sworn in as the 53rd President of the United States of America, but I wouldn’t count on it.

Ed’s note: The actual questions in his native language (“Four year old”) are in italics .

R: Mr. Kaempfer, what would you do if you were elected President?
(What would you do if you were the king of the world?)

SEAN: “I would make really big gigantic parks and turn all of the people into big gigantic yo-yos. And I would make it rain all the time. And I would drain rocks and swing from curtains.”

R: What is your national defense strategy?
(When is it OK to fight?)

SEAN: “If somebody wants to battle, it’s OK. If they take your toys, you have to say give it back please, and if they don’t give it back you have to chase them until they give it back, and then you smash them and battle. Then you make them hearts and say you’re sorry.”

R: What is your position on welfare?
(Should we help the poor children who don’t have any toys?)

SEAN: “Kids should go to the bank and get the money to buy toys. Or they could come to our garage sale. We have toys.”

R: Where do you come down on the issue of executive authority?
(Other than grown-ups, who is the boss?)

SEAN: “God is the boss. He is in heaven playing with cool computers that you don’t even have to touch anything. It happens by itself. He puts everyone else in the recycle bin.”

R: What is the solution to our education problems?
(How long do you think kids should stay in school?)

SEAN: “Kids should stay in school like five minutes.”

R: What do you think is the biggest problem with our health care system?
(What do you think about hospitals?)

SEAN: “Hospitals are boring because they always want to fix stuff instead of watching a DVD or playing in the rain or in the forest.”

R: Thank you, sir. I hope you run a clean campaign.
(Time for a bath now)

SEAN: “I’m not dirty!”

There it is, in the record books. The first official interview of our 53rd president. I’m sure he’ll later claim his quotes were taken out of context, so I have kept the tape recording of this interview to validate it.

As for his political leanings, I thought I had him figured out, but his first and last answers threw me off a little bit. I had him pegged as a conservative/libertarian, but he apparently has a little green streak in him too.

Sean Harrison Kaempfer cannot be pigeonholed into one ideology, but will never leave any doubts about where he stands, because he will not hesitate to express his views over and over and over again. His campaign motto is: “You may not like me, but I’m never, ever, going to stop talking. Ever.”

He has my vote in 2044.

And if I still live in Chicago, I’ll be able to vote for him twice.



HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEAN!

If you want to read any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Guest Blogger: Dobie Maxwell

Dobie Maxwell is one of the most accomplished stand-up comedians working in America today. I highly recommend his stand up act. If you are in a town that has "The Bob & Tom Show," you've probably heard Dobie many times. He is a semi-regular guest on that show. He was also one of the co-hosts of the "Morning Loop Guys" on WLUP in 2003/2004, and did a daily feature called the 60 Second Soapbox. He's previously contributed two more exclusively for this blog. (Dobie 1 & Dobie 2)

This time he's doing something a little different...



The Secret To Wedded Bliss
By Dobie Maxwell


Recently I was asked to stand up for a friend’s wedding. Just because I stand up to tell jokes as a comedian for a living doesn’t mean I do it any other time. I politely declined. I explained how I had a difficult time taking an entire weekend off and my friend was very understanding and I thought that would be the end of it. Wrong. His fiancé heard about it and called me up telling me how I was letting my friend down and how all the years of a friendship didn’t need to end with a slap in the face like this and blah blah blah blah blah.

After 20 minutes on the phone (during peak cell minutes by the way) of getting verbally spanked I had had enough blah blah blahing from the future Bride of Frankenstein and by the time it was over it was ME that wanted a divorce and I wasn’t even marrying her. She went on and on and I tried to be polite but eventually I brought out the heavy artillery and pushed the red button to start the launch sequence of total destruction. It wasn’t pretty.

I hit her with the three words of death about men and weddings that drive women crazy: WE DON’T CARE. There was dead silence on the other side of the phone and I pictured the tiny little mushroom cloud rising out of her earpiece. She swore at me and hung up. I felt bad that I had to drop the big one on her but I knew my friend would understand.

Ladies can’t stand to hear those three words when it comes to men and weddings but it needs to be understood. It’s not that we don’t care about YOU, it’s the wedding we can’t stand and it’s not our fault. It’s genetic. Women and weddings go together and no matter how hard we fake it as men we could not care less and are just along for the ride. Sorry.

Women and football are the same way. For us it’s life and death and you may pretend to show interest also but in reality we know you’re faking it too. You like the tight butts in a football uniform and maybe enjoy being catty about the cheerleaders but other than that it all becomes a big blur. That’s in your nature and we don’t fault you for it. Please let us be how we are naturally and not have to fake like we care about the planning of a wedding.

Think about it. You dream of your wedding day from the time you’re a little girl. You’ll spend hours and hours thinking about it and you spend thousands of dollars on your dress. A seamstress works her fingers raw making sure that dress is fitted perfectly to your form. You keep that dress forever and it’s a cherished memory. Everybody wants your picture.

Men rent a tuxedo for $39.95 that has adjustable pants with beer and gravy stains from three weddings ago and a folded up yarmulke in the coat pocket and we’re totally ok with it. Nobody really wants our picture, we just happen to be standing next to you at the time. If we had our way we’d wear sweat pants and a ‘Git ‘R Done’ t-shirt. Sorry, but it’s true.

All we really care about as men is that there is lots of cold beer at the reception and we don’t have to sit anywhere near your buck toothed Aunt Charlene who stutters. Other than that we’re fine with whatever you choose. It’s YOUR day and we love you so just make it happen. Whenever you have a question just insert the three magic words and you’ll be ok.

This will save a lot of time and energy and pave the way for a lifetime of wedded bliss. It is no coincidence that the two places bliss is mentioned most are weddings and ignorance.

Let’s practice. Band or DJ? WE DON’T CARE. Where to register? WE DON’T CARE. Beef or chicken for dinner? WE DON’T CARE. Pretty simple isn’t it? Take that as a hint for happiness, not a negative. When you learn that we don’t care about the wedding the pressure will be off and you can make it the special day you want to remember forever.

Men would be happy if the actual ceremony could be performed in a drive thru format.

"Hi, welcome to Wedding Bell. May I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to order the lifetime matrimony combo special please."

"OK, super - would you like to add any kids with that?"

"Uh, hold on. (To wife) Honey? Did you bring the coupon? You did?"

(To clerk) "OK, yes - we'd like three kids and we've got a coupon. Two boys and a girl. And could you please supersize the boys? Thanks."

I sincerely hope all brides to be use these three magic words to insure your happiness on your big day. We love you and want you to be happy. If you want to stay happy all of your marriage here’s another hint: please don’t use the six words on us about football that send us over the edge - ‘Why did he drop the ball?’ THAT we care about.



If you missed any previous guest bloggers, click here: http://rickkaempferguestbloggers.blogspot.com

Superheroes for the 21st Century

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





"21st Century Superheroes"
By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern




20th Century superheroes were larger than life. They had superhuman strength, rescued damsels in distress, and stopped bullets with their bare hands.

In the 21st century we’re not so worried about the Nazi’s, the Commies, or Super-villains anymore. We're more worried about getting through everyday life. That's why we strongly recommend the cartoonists of America scale the superheroes waaaaaay back. Less is more.

We'll get you started. Here are nine free ideas.*

1. Generation X-Man
This tech-savvy superhero will be able to tell you how to use all of the features on your digital cellular phone. After Generation X-Man saves the day, your phone will ring to Beethoven's 9th Symphony, your internet hookup will be accessible, and your phone-photos will be organized so your wife can't find the pictures you took at the mall.

2. Wine-der Woman
The most attractive of the superheroes instinctively knows when she is needed. Say your boss is coming over for dinner and you're serving him the shrimp primavera, Wine-der Woman will swoop in to pick out the perfect wine for the evening.

3. The Greenspan Hornet
Who couldn’t use the stock tips and financial planning provided by this investor superhero? He is so powerful he has been known to upend the entire stock market simply by uttering a few abstract phrases. When the Greenspan Hornet is on your side, your portfolio cannot be destroyed.

4. The Lone Rogainger
Yes, my balding friend, The Lone Rogainger responds to every balding emergency. (AUDIO: The Lone Rogainger)

5. Phat Girl
Without the expert superhero help of Phat Girl, you may accidentally consume ingredients forbidden in diets like South Beach and The Zone. Carbs and meat wouldn't dare appear on your plate at the same time when she's on the case.

6. The Incredible Sulk
By day, the Incredible Sulk is no different than us. But when someone is involved in a customer service nightmare, he transforms into a rampaging squeaky wheel, ensuring no one is treated badly by faceless corporations. His mere presence is enough to get you your money back.

7. Captain Republican
This useful superhero will help you end all arguments by accusing the person you’re debating of being an un-American, anti-God, traitorous appeaser. His arch enemy "Politically Correct Man" is no match for Captain Republican's aggressive retorts.

8. Starbuck Rodgers
This superhero coffee translator will help you determine what the heck the person in front of you means when she orders a venti half-caf soy latte. He will also slap the cashier giving you attitude for asking for a "large coffee."

9. Flash
This tech-savvy superhero can help you navigate past slow-loading web pages with needless animation. Flash will save you hours of wasted time every single day.

OK, cartoonists of America. You have your assignment. Get to work. We’d do it ourselves, but we’re too busy trying to figure out how to re-record our outgoing voicemail message.


*By free, we of course mean we’ll retain the traditional 51% ownership. That might as well be free you little snots.



If you want to read any previous "Half Empty" columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Suburban Man: Don't Bogart That Boobah

By Rick Kaempfer





If you’re a stay-at-home parent, the odds are good you will spend some time watching television with your kids. You have to. Without that occasional break, you’ll go crazy.

It's an escape...from anything even remotely resembling real life. In fact, if these shows were available during the 60s, Timothy Leary never would have felt the need to experiment.


Teletubbies
In Teletubbie-Land, four brightly colored television-receptor-people (Teletubbies) live in a spaceship-shaped home. This luxurious 5000-square-foot space-age pad is located in a grassy field of wild flowers and live bunnies, and appears to come with a lawn service and live-in help (a vacuum cleaner-shaped sucking device named Nu-Nu.) The four Teletubbies, Tinky Winky (Purple), Dipsy (Green), La-La (Yellow), and Po (Red), receive messages sent by children on the televisions built into their stomachs. These videos feature exciting scenes of children cutting out pictures and waving. The Teletubbies themselves have an impressive vocabulary consisting of the following words: “Uh oh,” “No,” “Nu-Nu,” “Look,” and “Bunnies.” All of these words can produce a giggle at any time from the little baby that lives in the sun and watches over them. One last tip for parents tuning in: don’t bother writing the producers of this show to find out “what they were on” when they created it. They won’t tell. Do as I do: continue experimenting with whatever you can your hands on, until you encounter the correct hallucinogen.

Boobah
The Boohbahs, five magical atoms of power, light and fun travel in their Boohball around the world, from child to child, in a psychedelic explosion of color. These pear-shaped colorful fuzzy Boobahs with strange names like Zing Zingbah dance around for thirty minutes, and say nothing at all, except their own names and the word “Boohbah.” That word sends them into an imaginary Storyworld for the Storypeople - Grandmamma, Grandpappa, Mrs. Lady, Mr. Man, Brother and Sister, Auntie and Little Dog Fido. Those characters also don’t say any words at all; they pantomime the stories. If you haven’t seen it, you have to watch it at least once. It’s the strangest show that has ever been created. I think that PBS should show it at 3 a.m. It almost certainly would become a cult hit on college campuses across the country. Don’t bogart that Boobah, dude.

Blues Clues
A real-life grown up dressed like a kid lives in a cartoon house with a cartoon dog. The dog (Blue) always wants to play with the grown up dressed like a kid (Steve or Joe), but since this is first cartoon dog since Pluto who can’t speak, Blue is forced to communicate by providing clues. While the dog doesn't speak, everything else in the cartoon house does. Steve/Joe speaks to his cartoon soap, his cartoon salt & pepper shakers (who have French accents), and his cartoon nightstand, among others. He can also jump into the pictures on the wall by dancing in a circle. The worst part about this show is the catchiness of the little songs. Is there anything more embarrassing than walking through a grocery store humming the “We just got a letter” song? I don’t think so…and I speak from experience.

There are more shows, of course, but all three of these have been in heavy rotation at my house at one time or another over the past ten years.

And they haunt my dreams.



If you missed any previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

An Excerpt from "The Radio Producer's Handbook"

Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of September 11, 2001, a day that I'm sure everyone reading this remembers vividly.

My experience on that day was a little odd. It involved Eddie Munster.



The following short excerpt about my experiences on that day is taken from "The Radio Producer's Handbook," which is still available here...The Radio Producer's Handbook

The John Landecker show had a “Mystery Guest” segment scheduled during the 8am hour (central time) on September 11, 2001. Rick Kaempfer was speaking with Butch Patrick (Eddie Munster) on the phone, prepping him for the mystery guest segment, when he was alerted about the first tower being hit. He politely said goodbye to Butch Patrick, turned on the television in the studio, and the show became a full-service news program. The newscaster Richard Cantu told all of the details that had been confirmed. As the show members tried to make sense of what was happening, the second tower was hit. Landecker and his co-host Leslie Keiling saw it happening and described it to the listeners. The listeners that normally would have turned on the news/talk station stayed with the program. Even today Landecker is stopped by people who were listening to the show that day. They thank him for handling the situation so professionally and feel a personal connection to him because of the real emotion he and the rest of the show members displayed on the air.

This is the crew we had working on the show that day...(from left, Rick Kaempfer, John Landecker, Leslie Keiling, Richard Cantu, and Vince Argento).

Guest Blogger: David Brensilver

DAVID A. BRENSILVER is a newspaper editor, and a fellow ENC Press author.





During this week of Steve Irwin's well-publicized death, David's novel "ExecTV", (which is available through our publisher: http://www.encpress.com/TV.html) is more timely than ever. I highly recommend it.

I asked him to please put down his smokes and write a piece for the blog. He graciously agreed...



"The view from the Coliseum"

By David A. Brensilver


We are voyeurs all, would-be emperors growing big on a diet of what is fed us. We hunt no more, for we sit in our own Coliseums, watching our own devoured figuratively by the Kings of the Television Jungle, our appetites sated only briefly, for we know there is more to consume.

This week the world mourns what we are told is a great and terrible tragedy, the death of the so-called Crocodile Hunter who was taken from us while we were not watching. Steve Irwin was not to die like this. He was to die a slow, bloody death, watching his own limbs torn off by the very reptiles he so desperately wanted us to understand.

We understood, Mr. Irwin, and you knew that. You knew that images of you holding your infant son mere feet (meters in your case) from the jaws of a large and hungry crocodile would cause frustration disguised as outrage, frustration that some real and ugly tragedy did not befall your child before our high-definition eyes, damning you for providing the spectacular but not ourselves for watching.

You could have given us what we wanted but didn’t have the balls. Had you died the way we expected you eventually would, news and entertainment, or news-as-entertainment, would have synchronized as they are supposed to.

Still, the 24-hour cable television news outlets analyzed stingray behavior for us, just as they had John Mark Karr’s handwriting and the meal he was served during his flight from Thailand.

And just as you let us down by dying an unseen and unspectacular death, Mr. Karr let us down with his innocence. He is no choir boy, to be sure. But we prayed to the Kings of the Television Jungle that it was he who killed JonBenet a decade ago, and that it would be he upon whom we would levy our vengeance.

We would have watched as he was sentenced to death and we would have cheered the jury, for they would have represented we, the people, in our upholstered Coliseums, armed with the technology to rewind and replay the verdict as many times as our high-definition eyes and sound-byte-trained ears could stand.

Your execution would have been broadcast live, for all the world to see. The fruition of what we’ve been threatening to arrive at but haven’t had the balls: a return to public executions.

Your execution would have been news and it would have been entertainment – news-as-entertainment, the apotheosis of so-called Reality TV.

And until you were put down, we would have waited. Your legal defense team would have used familiar rhetoric to stir debate about your sentence and looked good doing so in high-definition. Experts would have been paraded onto 24-hour cable television news sets to talk about your impending execution and would have thrown a bone to conspiracy theorists by suggesting you looked so much like Lee Harvey Oswald that it couldn’t be coincidence.

And in the end, we would have watched one of our own get fed to the lions, while we imbibed the sweet elixir of schadenfreude in the comfort of our hard-wired Coliseums.


In David A. Brensilver’s ExecTV (ENC Press, 2005) Reality TV is brought to its logical extreme when an unemployed documentary filmmaker arranges to have an execution broadcast live, on pay-per-view television. Find out more about David, ExecTV, and ENC Press here: www.encpress.com

Half Empty: "Nine Fine Supermarket Whines"

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.


















NINE FINE SUPERMARKET WHINES

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern


You know those little moments that irk you, that get your blood pressure boiling for no good reason, that make you grit your teeth and pretend you aren’t incredibly irritated? You don’t say anything because it’s obvious that whatever is bothering you is your problem—not anyone else’s—and why should you bother other people with something that is probably just a pet peeve?

Ah, but there’s your mistake. A glass of fine whine goes with any dish. When you get a taste for it, stop by and visit one of us. Our whine cellars are particularly well-stocked.

For instance, we have nine fine whines to get you started. All of these are served in the supermarket.


1. Bagger or cashier small talk
Here’s the drill: we’re buying the stool softener for our wives. Capice? It's not a conversation starter, it's a conversation ender.


2. Understocked Kid Shopping Carts
You know those cool shopping carts that are shaped like fire trucks or police cars? Well it would be helpful if you had more than ONE. Our screaming toddlers don't understand the logic of having only one in the store and neither do we.


3. Extra-Value Products
Don’t ask us to buy some “extra value” product at the checkout. We’re smart enough to know that you’re just trying to move old inventory. Gee, who would have thought the mushroom flavored gum wouldn’t sell? And while the Peach-Mint Pop Tarts look yummy, we'll just pass thank you very much.


4. Deli-Counter Judging
We shouldn't have to acknowledge the irony when we're ordering three pounds of low-fat hard salami. Just get it. Yes, we realize that nobody else orders the head cheese, but it's not necessary to tell everyone standing behind us. We don't appreciate the snickers when we order the pickled herring, either. You work at a deli counter. There should be no such thing as a ridiculous meat order.


5. Half-Empty Bags of Chips
OK, so the cost of chips has only gone up slightly in the past few years, but apparently the cost of air is going through the roof. Put some damn chips in the bag.


6. This is not the arctic
We’re not penguins; you don’t have to keep the store at 15 degrees in the summer. We didn't bring our parkas.


7. The "We card everyone under 40" sign
It's impossible not to take that sign personally when we never get carded. Yes, we know we are technically over 40, but there's no way you could tell that by looking at us. We look exactly the same as we did in college.


8. Self Checkout Lanes should actually work
When we use those self serve checkout lanes we’re doing it to avoid human contact. So, it would be helpful if every time we used them there wouldn’t be some issue that needed a clerk’s attention.

9. Oversized produce baggies
I could fit five watermelons in these bags. How about a normal size plastic bag for someone that doesn't need to buy produce for an entire football stadium crowd?


If you have any others to add to our list, feel free to contribute by clicking on the word "comments" below. All comments are sent to Rick's e-mail directly and he prints the best ones in Friday's column.


To read any previous Half Empty columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Suburban Man: Suburban Greatness

By Rick Kaempfer




I’ve given a few speeches to suburban high school kids about the challenges of succeeding in life as a “creative.” I can see the doubtful looks in their eyes when I tell them there is no reason it can’t happen to them. They think that living in the suburbs is somehow depriving them of the kind of environment necessary to create art.

Of course that’s ridiculous, but sometimes kids need to see real life examples around them to realize the possibilities. It’s only natural to think that living in the big city is necessary when you see how many famous and talented people come from a place like Chicago. What suburban kids don’t fully appreciate, however, is that many of these people who are identified as “Chicagoans” are actually suburbanites just like them.

The list is long and impressive.

How can a suburban kid from the Chicago area ever become a movie star? It certainly hasn’t hampered the careers of Vince Vaughn (Buffalo Grove), Gary Sinese (Highland Park), Denise Richards (Downers Grove), Joe Mantegna (Cicero), Marlin Brando (Libertyville), John and Joan Cusack (Evanston), or Ann Margret and Charlton Heston (Wilmette).

How can a suburban kid from the Chicago area ever become a comedian or comic actor? It’s not possible, unless of course you consider the success stories of Jack Benny (Waukegan), John and Jim Belushi (Wheaton), Bill Murray (Wilmette), Harold Ramis (Glencoe), Andy Dick (Joliet), Andy Richter (Yorkville) or Sean Hayes (Glen Ellyn).

How can a suburban kid from the Chicago area ever become a rock star? Ted Nugent (Arlington Heights), Jim Peterik (Berwyn), Liz Phair (Winnetka) and Billy Corgan (Glendale Heights) managed to do it.

A writer? The former Wheaton teenager Bob Woodward broke a fairly big story in the 70s, if I recall. Also, I haven’t heard of this guy named Hemingway, but Oak Park residents tell me he was pretty passable in his day.

When you’re a teenager, the suburbs may seem like a pretty boring place, but it’s certainly not holding anyone back. The truth is that most people don’t go into these high profile creative professions, and for those who don’t, the quality suburban school systems are providing the kind of education that is crucial. But even if your child finds the arts calling his name, and he decides he simply must pursue his dream…the trail has already been blazed by people who were just like him when they were teenagers.

Absolutely everything is possible. Even for suburbanites.

Are you telling me that growing up in Mt. Prospect, “Where friendliness is a way of life”, somehow hampered surly former Cubs slugger Dave Kingman? NO! He overcame that friendliness to be one of the biggest jerks on the planet.

Would you claim that a suburban kid from Lyons Township High School shouldn’t try to become the biggest recording star in Germany? Well, David Hasselhoff must not have gotten that memo.

Do you pity the fools in Lake Forest who told Mr. T. to go away just because he chopped down hundred year old suburban trees? Mr. T. didn’t end up on the B-team, folks. He ended up on the A-Team.


Would you claim that a suburban kid could also never make it in Washington? Tell that to the Senator from Park Ridge, Hillary Clinton, or the Speaker of the House from Yorkville, Dennis Hastert. Tell that to former Winnetka teenager Donald Rumsfeld. They might just disagree with you.


Just because you live in the suburbs, and you eat dinner at a non-descript corporate owned Applebee’s, and you shop at a generic corporate owned Gap, and you drink coffee at your local corporate owned suburban Starbucks, doesn’t mean you can’t become an artist, a movie star, a television star, a writer, a rock star, or even a politician. To the contrary; it’s good training.

Those corporations and other corporations just like them also own any and all outlets that will ever pay you money for your art if you want to make it in Hollywood or New York, or finance your campaign if you ever want to make it in Washington. If you can function in the suburbs, you have no idea how well that prepares you to succeed in the world today.

In fact, that should be in every one of our brochures.


If you'd like to read previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Guest Blogger: Roosevelt Rhodes

This week's guest blogger is Roosevelt Rhodes. He is a well known and long-time member of the Chicago media, but he chooses to write under this pseudonym. I have promised to never reveal his actual name, and no amount of begging, pleading or bribing will entice me to go back on my word. If you'd like to reach this mystery writer, he does have an e-mail address: rooseveltrhodes@hotmail.com.

Since Monday is Labor Day, Roosevelt has chosen to write about the workplace. He calls it...


"A SANDbox. Not a LITTERbox."
By Roosevelt Rhodes

I never met Bob. Yet, I think about him every day. Bob ran a filling station right where Chicago’s West Side met Cicero. He was a truck driver, turned mechanic, turned Sinclair station franchisee, husband and father.

Bob set up shop near 22nd Street. A Bohemian boulevard called Cermak where nearly 18,000 people a day took the streetcar to punch the time clock at the Western Electric’s plant on Cicero Avenue. I never met Bob and Bob never met Henry. But they would have dug each. I’ll explain later.

The Suburban Man took part in a fascinating exercise recently in this space. He played the parental soothsayer, and made some astute observations about what his kids would be when they grew up. Me, I'm not as concerned about WHAT they're going to be as WHERE they're going to be it. I’m one of those people who never wanted to just have a J-O-B. I’m obsessed with workplace karma. It could simply be that I’ve not done hard labor in 20-plus years. Spoiled, I am. I was once a janitor, and I worked at a bus garage in maintenance. The worst thing that ever happened to me on the job, was when the acid content of the engine cleaner we used ate holes in my gloves...then scorched through a couple of layers of skin until they bled. Now my only workplace hazard is bad mojo.

I love what I do. Most people aren’t that lucky. That’s why more and more I’m pissed at what I see or hear about environmnents at work. From sandbox to litter box. And NO, I don't believe people want company picnics on their one day off to make them love their gig. They want to 'play' at working hard.

During a major leadership change some years ago, a buddy told me about the day one upper manager marched through cubicle-land and got a chip on his shoulder about what people displayed on their walls, dividers and doors. Keep in mind it wasn't lewd or crude. He also griped about what people wore to the office. Mr. Tight-Cheeks never waited to see how folks dolled up when corporate people visited or on the days client presentations took place. He simply issued veiled complaints to middle managers, and secretly had cartoons, collages and other forms of 'personal inspiration' taken away. Then he slammed the door on casual Friday. This all happened unofficially, which seemed oddly wimpy. Or rather telling. I don’t believe this was about bling. It was a metaphor for autocracy.

You can't blame it all on suits. Top performers in sales or otherwise who believe their own hype also mess with the vibe. Consider an interview in 2002 with then Cubs right fielder Sammy Sosa. He was being asked about his idol, the late Roberto Clemente, which spun off into the query 'who is your living hero?' -- to which Sammy humbly replied 'me!' Then roared. The comment didn't play widely. Probably better that it didn't. Yet, somewhere during that season the shift happened in that clubhouse. Sammy went from teammate to necessary evil.

Back to Henry. He was the night janitor at a place where I worked in my early 20s. I asked him once if he liked the night shift, and he told me he didn't have a choice -- he worked another job. We used to gripe about Reaganomics and compare notes on the best ballyard catches of all-time. Our musings led me to dig into his other life. The day job. A middle school where he told me he was/is: The principal. Dude, got a twinkle then, and out of the corner of his mouth whispered "never want to forget how I got there". It was an attitude he breathed into that school. Teachers, counselors, and ladies who slung bad pizza onto cafeteria trays were busting down doors to work between those walls. He brought out a vibe that was contagious, because he never saw just his side of the ‘plant’.

Finally back to Bob. The reason I love people who make work into play. One imperfectly normal fall afternoon in 1958, Bob's oldest son was sitting in a college freshman lit class. His daughter had just slammed her books into her 8th grade locker, and his youngest boy raced across the alley headed home to a neat brick Georgian Bob had paid cash for a decade earlier. As his wife swept the front stoop and waited on that 3rd grader to jump the curb, Bob's 49-year old heart decided to call it a day. Here comes the happy ending.

The tears turned into nearly a half-century of laughter and practical jokes that baffled some bosses, and caused hundreds to fly by the seat of their pants while being productive at work. That college freshman learned something from a life that was too short. Bob's oldest spent his entire work life leading a parade of time not wasted. He didn't even notice until the day he retired eight months ago. He just thought he'd only get 18-plus-30 years or so.

Or better yet he just built a sandbox, and remembered to pack it in his lunch pail every day.


If you missed previous guest bloggers, click here: http://rickkaempferguestbloggers.blogspot.com



Have a great Labor Day weekend.
--Rick

Half Empty: Nine Ways To Attract A Man

They say that when you hit your 40s, your life is half over. We prefer to think of it as HALF EMPTY. Our age has finally caught up with our outlook on life. Remember, it is possible to turn that frown upside down...but you might pull a muscle.





Nine Ways To Attract A Man
By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern





Every time we go to the supermarket, we’re blown away by the headlines on the women’s magazines by the checkout counter.

This is just a sampling of the headlines we wrote down on a recent excursion...
=What guys notice: 20 things that turn their heads
=How to master the seven essential sex styles
=Are you good in bed? Take our quiz.
=His & Hers summer sex confessions
=Double your pleasure with these sexcercises
=Pssst. 100 secrets his body wants you to know
=12 little tricks to steam up your love life
=The sex he craves

The target audience for these magazines is 18-34 year old females. Correct us if we’re wrong, but is there a single female in that age bracket having a hard time exciting the man in her life?

Maybe it’s just because we’re not in that target age group anymore, and maybe it’s because we’re both married and not looking, but if it helps stop these pointless articles, we are prepared to break the “man code” and reveal the truth to young women everywhere.

There are exactly nine ways to attract a man. Follow these simple rules, and we guarantee success.

1. Have a Pulse
Not having a pulse is a notorious turn-off for men. On the other hand, women who have a pulse have an excellent chance of attracting some male interest. There’s no need to flaunt it. We can sense it. Call it male intuition.

2. Breathe
Are you breathing? Excellent. This is another one of our stringent requirements. On the other hand, those of us who know CPR are sometimes willing to suspend this rule temporarily.

3. Be conscious
This is important. Remember that the conscious girl has many advantages over the unconscious girl, and shouldn’t hesitate to capitalize on those advantages.

4. Be unconscious
On the other hand, men are not into “judging” you based on your state of consciousness. We’re much more open-minded than women think.

5. Have most of the “girl body parts”
We aren’t so crass as to expect you to have all of the girl body parts, but if you have most of them, you’ll find your odds of snagging a man improves dramatically.

6. Be Nearby
You know the old phrase “out of sight, out of mind?” It’s so true. That’s why we go for women who are nearby.

7. Be Far Away
You know the phrase “Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” That’s so true. That’s why we go for women who are far away.

8. Speak
If your vocal chords are working and you can string together various words, phrases and/or grunts in our general direction, consider yourself an object of interest. It doesn’t matter what language you speak.

9. Don’t speak
On the other hand, silence is golden. A woman who is mute, doesn’t have vocal chords, or chooses not to use them has an excellent chance at turning the head of any man.


We hope you ladies appreciate how much trouble we can get into at the next “man meeting” for revealing the nine rules. These deeply guarded secrets are completely unknown to the editors of every women’s magazine in America.

Please, we urge you, use this information wisely.




If you missed any of our previous "Half Empty" columns, click here: http://halfemptyarchive.blogspot.com

Suburban Man: A Wal-Mart Primer

By Rick Kaempfer



Normally I don’t print letters I receive about my Suburban Man columns, but this one from former radio producer/programmer Tom Serritella has some helpful advice for everyone who hates shopping at Wal-Mart. Is there anyone who doesn't fit that description?
--Rick


Dear Rick,

As a fellow house-husband, I feel obliged to reply to your recent column ("House Husband Report Card"). I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but your wife didn't give you a "C", as you reported. 70% isn't a "C," it's a “D”. (Using the 100-92-A, 91-83-B, 82-75-C, 74-66-D, 65-F scale).

You mentioned that one of the reasons your grade was so low was because of your reluctance to go shopping at Wal-Mart. That's where I come in. I think I can help you get that grade up to something more respectable. Take my advice and before you know it, your wife may be proudly telling all of her friends…”My husband is average!”

I have six important rules.

1) You must wear a watch.
If you extend your Wal-Mart stay beyond one hour, you’ll be ready to kill yourself. If your wife wants you to buy something that takes too long to find, practice saying this: “Sorry honey, I couldn’t find it.” The grief you’ll receive from her is far less than the torment you’ll endure looking for the darn thing. A good rule of thumb is this: If you look longer than 5 minutes, DONE.

2) Always bring a child who fits in the cart.
I have 2 1/2 year old twins. They are my best weapons at Wal-Mart. You mentioned that the aisles are narrow. This is true, but with my twins in the cart, I’m driving a double-wide. My motto is: “Get outta my way.”

3) Always bring a list.
A list is a good way not to forget the stupid crap your wife needs so you don’t get killed when you get home. If you don’t bring a list, you’ll forget something. It happens every time. Just trust me. Remember, the Wal-Mart experience isn’t only the time spent in the actual store.

4) Ask for help, but don’t count on it.
The Pharmacy section is brutal. None of it makes sense to a man because everything is organized for the woman’s brain. The only way to make it through this section quickly is to ask for help. Unfortunately, let’s be honest here-—Wal-Mart employees are not exactly famous for their efficiency. If you are running short on time, and one of those slow-ass Wal-Mart employees is taking forever to finish whatever the hell it is that they have to do before they get to you, refer back to rule #1 for what to say to your wife when you get home.

5) Make the food section your own
Let me reiterate, every Wal-Mart has a food section. One of the biggest mistakes that househusbands make is continuing to buy the stuff their wives used to buy when they did the shopping. HELLO!!!! The best part about shopping at Wal-Mart is that they have all the stupid food that men love. It’s me time. Make sure to buy some things that you’d otherwise never see in your home. Tostito’s or Jalapeño cheese dip always seems to make it into my cart somehow. (Note: If you skip this rule, you’re missing your only chance for enjoying the Wal-Mart experience).

6) Check out the check out
Pay attention! The fastest lines are not necessarily the shortest lines; they’re the ones with the best checkers. Here’s another important thing to remember once you have chosen the fastest line: You must help them with the bagging. I had a stand-off with the checker once, before I figured out the game. She was looking at me wondering why I wasn’t helping her put the bags in my cart, and I was looking at her like she was nuts! By simply doing her job for her, I saved myself a crucial ten minutes of agony.

Follow these six simple rules, and you may soon rise to a level of mediocrity your wife will applaud. No need to thank me. I know a man in need when I see one.

Tom


Thanks for your help, Tom, but I'm still not stepping foot in Wal-Mart. This is not a political statement on my part. The place actually makes my skin crawl. Sorry.
--Rick




If you'd like to read previous Suburban Man columns, click here: http://suburbanmanarchive.blogspot.com

Steve & Garry Notebook

When Steve & Garry reunited for one show last Friday, it was big news in Chicago. Every local television station covered it, every local newspaper (Front page on the Sun Times!) ran stories (see Thursday's media notebook for the links), and people all over Chicago were talking about it.

I worked for the Steve & Garry show for almost five years (1986-1991), including the last four years as their producer. I've previously chronicled that on this blog a few times
(Loop Photo Album 1986-1993), but I haven't really written about it at length.


This seems like a perfect time to do that.

I was running the Steve & Garry fan club and helping out the Loop's promotions department when Steve & Garry's former producer (Roman) quit. That's when they promoted me to producer, and announced my arrival in the Steve & Garry newsletter (on the left).





During those years, I had some high highs and some low lows (some of my nicknames included "college boy", "Slow-Mo", and "Rick the German Boy"), but now that so much time has passed I really only think about the highs. Here are my five favorite moments.


#5: The Brian Wilson interview
Brian Wilson emerged from more than a decade of intense psychological treatment to release a solo album in 1988. He still wasn't quite right (and maybe never will be) when he arrived at the station for an in-studio interview. How do I know this? When I offered my hand to him, he jumped backwards like he had just seen a ghost. His "personal advisor" wouldn't let him out of his sight and actually sat on the floor in the studio during the interview. The interview itself was also memorable. At one point Brian started choking, leaving Steve and Garry speechless and completely at a loss for what to do. I've probably heard that 48 seconds of audio a thousand times since then, and it still makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.


#4 Steve's on-the-air vasectomy
When Steve decided to get it snipped live on the air, the rest of us cringed. Garry actually had to witness it and provide play by play, while I was thankfully running the equipment, a safe distance away from the snipping. This was a big story at the time (I can't remember the year exactly...I want to say it was '89 or '90). The story came full circle for me in 2003 when I was getting my own vasectomy. The doctor who was handling the procedure realized who I was in the middle of the operation, and started asking me questions about Steve & Garry while he was cutting my bits and pieces.


#3: A Christmas Carol
In December of 1988, I tackled my first big production for Steve and Garry, a celebrity reading of the classic "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens. I booked dozens of local celebrities to play the parts, and we performed it in front of a live audience at the Museum of Broadcasting. Steve was Scrooge, Garry was Cratchit, Bruce Wolf was Fred, Christmas Past was Roger Ebert, Christmas Present was Buzz Kilman, the late Channel 5 news reporter Paul Hogan was Marley, and other participants included Sports Illustrated writer Rick Telander, Channel 2 anchor Linda McClennan, Blackhawks announcer Pat Foley, West 57th correspondent Bob Sirott, Channel 7 anchor Diann Burns, Channel 5 anchor Joan Esposito, Channel 7 reporter Janet Davies, Chicago Bears quarterback Mike Tomczak, Sun-Times columnist Michael Sneed, Chicago Bears safety Gary Fencik, artist Tony Fitzpatrick, Kevin Matthews, Bob Stroud, Stan Lawrence, Chicago Bears Guard Tom Thayer, and Channel 7 anchor Mary Ann Childers.

It was a huge success, got a big write-up in the Chicago Tribune, and my boss at the time, future gazillionaire Jimmy de Castro wrote a memo to us saying how great he thought the show was (above on the left).

I've previously written about how this chance meeting with Mary Ann Childers had a big impact on my life. You can read that story here:Thank you Mary Ann Childers


#2 The Ringo Starr Interview
Eagles guitarist Joe Walsh was in the studio promoting his appearance with Ringo's All-Star Band. Steve asked Joe if he could get Ringo on the air, and Joe handed me the number to Ringo's hotel room. As a fanatic Beatle-maniac, I was stricken with fear. After a mild panic attack in the producer's room, I made the call. He was actually very nice to me on the phone, and agreed to come on the show. My conversation couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds, but I remember every word of it. When he finally got on the air, he noticed he was on delay. He told Steve & Garry that it hurt him that they didn't trust him and demanded that they take the delay off before he continued the interview. When they followed his orders dutifully, he made sure he was on the air live, before blurting out: "SHIT!" Today that would have cost the station $325,000. In 1989, it was hilarious.

Ringo later showed up at the station for a nationwide interview (for a show called "Rockline"), and I got his autograph. It's something I will treasure forever.



#1 Meeting Bridget

A year or so after I became the producer, a young intern from the news department came into the producer's booth to retrieve the news wire copy for Steve & Garry news anchor Carrie Cochran. I struck up a conversation with her like I did with all of the news interns (I was friendly in those days), and discovered quickly that the two of us had a lot in common.

Unfortunately, the producer of the Kevin Matthews Show (Shemp, shown next to me below) also liked her and asked her out on a date. She took the unusual step of asking me to accompany them, which I did. By the end of the night, I was volunteering to drive her home all the way to Wheaton, and Shemp was out of the picture. I broke up with my girlfriend shortly thereafter, and Bridget and I started dating.

That was eighteen years ago and we're still together. We got married in 1991, and we have three boys now (Tommy, Johnny & Sean).




Jim Wiser (left) was the producer of the Jonathon Brandmeier Show. Shemp (middle) was the producer of Kevin Matthews, and I was the producer of Steve & Garry. This picture was taken at a Loop Christmas Party at Garry's restaurant "Lan's".



I quit the Steve & Garry show in 1991 to pursue my on-air career (which lasted exactly two more years...I went back to producing in 1993 when John Landecker called me up and asked me to produce his show).

This is how the Steve & Garry newsletter announced my departure:

"A changing of the guard took place at the producer's postion after four years. Our very own "German Boy" moved onto smaller and lesser things. Steve and Garry both scratched their heads as to why he would leave without having another job lined up. Our investigative reporters snooped around and came up with these ten rumors.
#1: Steve did one too many Colonel Klink impersonations
#2: Cliff got a little too touchy-feely during dance rehearsals
#3: Rick and Maggie Brock had a torrid love affair that will continue in Phoenix (Maggie was the newsperson, and she left the same week I did--she moved to Phoenix)
#4: Longstanding philosophical differences regarding Jerry Lewis.
#5: Laziness
#6: Heading back to Fatherland to start WW3.
#7: His girlfriend was getting a little too close to Steve & Garry.
#8: He was miffed at the lack of publicity the reunification got on the show
#9: He didn't get to do his "Kermit the Frog" voice on the air a single time...even the day Jim Henson died.
#10: He loves golf and couldn't take Steve and Garry bashing the sport any longer.

Steve and Garry broke up exactly one week after I left the Loop to produce John Landecker's show. I ran into Garry a few times after that, but despite working on the same floor as Steve (when he moved to WCKG), I didn't see or talk to Steve again until he invited me to his 50th birthday party in 2004.

I now communicate with both of them occasionally via e-mail, and like any fan of the show, I'm rooting for a full-fledged reunion...although I know it's a long shot.