Half Empty: Jail Musings

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.




"JAIL MUSINGS"

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern




First things first: neither of us is planning on going to jail.

Ever.

Have you heard the phrase “he’s not built for prison?” That phrase applies to us. We have no desire to join the other fellas in the old cell block dancing to the Jailhouse Rock. It’s one of the great motivating factors keeping us from breaking the law.

On the other hand, we must admit we’ve thought about what life would be like behind bars. We’ve seen enough prison movies and television shows, and read enough stories about what can and often does happen in jail. Plus, with politicians getting indicted left and right this year, it's top of mind. And because we are sick and twisted, our brains have been unable to stop ourselves from considering the following circumstances.


1. The last second call from the governor
What if the phone rang just before the execution, but it wasn’t exactly what the prisoner was expecting?

(Sfx: Phone ringing)

Warden: Hello. Yes, he’s here. Just a moment. It’s for you, Mad Dog.

Prisoner: Hello?

Caller: Is this Mad Dog?

Prisoner: Yes.

Caller: Please hold for the Governor.

Prisoner: (excitedly) Are you serious?

Caller: (muffled laughter) Yeah. Hang on. (muffled laughter)

(Sfx: Click.)

Prisoner: Hello? Hello? Hello?

Warden: Let’s go, Mad Dog. It’s time.

Prisoner: NOOOOOOOOOOO!

2. The conjugal visit
What if the prisoner has waited years for his one conjugal visit, but his wife hasn’t changed at all since she last saw him?

Prisoner: Hi honey.

Wife: Hi Mad dog.

Prisoner: You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.

Wife: Listen, Mad dog, my head is throbbing. Can we do this another time?

Prisoner: What do you mean?

Wife: I’m just tired, and the kids have been a bear lately, and this just isn’t a good time for me.

Prisoner: I won’t get another chance for ten years!

Wife: I’ll come back then, I promise. Can we just cuddle?

3. Tired prison jokes
What if prisoners had to deal with the same sort of daily jokes (Working hard or hardly working?) as office workers?

Prisoner #1: Hey there Mad dog, got a few minutes?

Mad Dog: Very funny, Killer.

Prisoner #1: Sorry. Hey man, that’s an awesome outfit. Where did you get it?

Mad Dog: Very funny, Killer.

Prisoner #1: Sorry to bug ya, dude, but can you get me a rum and coke?

Mad Dog: Where would I get that?

Prisoner #1: Oh sorry. I just saw you tending bars, and I thought…

Mad Dog: Get out.

4. Prison Gang Fraternity Rush
What if they held a traditional fraternity rush to join prison gangs?

White Aryan: Have you ever thought about joining the Aryans?

Prisoner: I’m just kind of meeting all the guys right now, trying to get a feel for the different gangs.

White Aryan: Look, I don’t want to do the hard sell on you, because we only want guys who think for themselves, but I won’t lie--we probably have the best tattoo guy in here.

Prisoner: Really?

White Aryan: We also have the best volleyball team. And our guys can make knives out of dirt.

Prisoner: Really?

White Aryan: You better believe it. We're the best gang in the block.

Prisoner: Is there a membership fee?

White Aryan: One lousy pack of smokes. The crips are charging two packs and they suck at volleyball.

5. Jail House press conference
What if they set up an interview room for execution press conferences?

Reporter #1: Mad dog, can you tell us about your mindset?

Mad Dog: I’m going to give it 110% like I always do. Mad Dog has got to be true to Mad Dog. Yes, the lady in front.

Reporter #2: Mad dog? How do you think it’s going to go in there?

Mad Dog: I’m just going to take it one injection at a time. Yes, you in the back.

Reporter #3: Do you feel any remorse?

Mad Dog: Listen, you can’t dwell on past performance. Just put it behind you, and work on tomorrow.

Reporter #3: But there is no tomorrow.

Mad Dog: No further questions.

Yes, we realize that thinking about jail is weird...but it could always be worse.

Consider these seventeen different convictions, indictments, and/or guilty pleas chronicled here: Political Docket. We may be thinking about prison, but these guys (16 Republican lawmakers, appointees, or lobbyists and 1 Democrat) will be going there. This site doesn't even chronicle our fine local Illinois politicians...which will make the national bunch look like amateurs by the time Pat Fitzgerald gets through with them.

Think of us and listen for the sports cliches when they hold their jailhouse press conferences.

And remember to bring your clothes-pin to the polling booth this year. The smell is worse than usual.



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

Suburban Man: Why do I write?

Note: This past weekend I MCed the 50th Anniversary banquet for the Green White soccer club. My Dad was one of the founders of that club, and I've been thinking about him quite a bit lately. I also attended my 25th High School Reunion, and the number one question people asked me was "Why did you become a writer?" This piece I wrote in April has been on my mind all weekend. I hope you'll indulge my re-running it today.



By Rick Kaempfer























Rick's Dad: Eckhard Kaempfer (1935-1989)




Losing a parent has a tendency to change your outlook on life. I know it happened to me. When my father died seventeen years ago, I was 25. That’s a pretty young age to become fatalistic, but I’ve chosen to look on the bright side of being fatalistic. For one thing, I no longer take things for granted because I know that my time on this earth is limited.

I know this is going to sound bad, but I wish my father had been a little more fatalistic. Of course, it’s totally unfair to say that about a man who walked into a hospital emergency room one day at the age of 54, and never came out again. His mindset was understandable. Both of his parents were still alive when he died. He had no reason to ever think about death. And even if he had, all three of his children were already adults (25, 24, and 19), and he had done a pretty good job of raising relatively normal functional members of society. Why would he bother thinking about what life would be like without him?

I know I’m being greedy here. I realize that. He gave me all he could give...and then some. But now that I’m a father myself, I find myself wanting something I never wanted before. His advice. I always considered Dad to be a source of wisdom, even when I strongly fought against it. He was a reasonable man, a thinker, someone who gave quite a bit of thought to his words before they came out. He wasn’t always right, but he was never rash or emotional. In short, he was the perfect kind of person to ask for advice.

And I never did.

And now that I’m a father myself, I have a million questions.

That’s probably one of the reasons I have so overcompensated with my own boys. I’ve tried to use my father as a model—his steady temperament and his guiding hand, while trying to give them what he couldn’t give me. It’s one of the reasons I’ve decided to stay home and raise them. I’m part of virtually every phase of their lives, and I’m constantly giving them unsolicited advice about every subject under the sun just in case they ever need it someday.

Unfortunately, I don’t quite have the fountain of wisdom my father had. He had knowledge that came from a difficult childhood of emigration and language barriers and hardship that I couldn’t even imagine. You learn things when you experience difficulty—and he must have learned so much. Most of those lessons learned, however, died with him. I didn’t have the foresight to ask about them, and he didn’t have the foresight to commit them to paper.

So I write.

That way, what I know will not go away when I go away. Even if my boys choose to ignore it for most of their lives, I’m fairly confident there will come a time when curiosity will get the best of them, and they will seek out wisdom from their father. When that time comes, there’s a possibility I won’t be around to deliver it in person.

The son spends his life trying to distance himself from his father, trying to make his own way in the world, trying to become a man. There’s nothing wrong with that—it’s part of growing up. I certainly don’t take it personally when my boys ignore my advice and insist on making the same mistakes I made. Some kids just learn better that way. I know I did. But there will come a day when they need me. And I just can’t bear to think that I won’t be there when they do.

So I write.

When they do seek me out, even if I’m not around, my words will still be here, to bring me back to life. They won’t have to wonder what was going through my mind when I was in their shoes--because they can read it. And if they end up having boys just like themselves—and my experience tells me they just might—they can see how and why I did what I did.

Why do I write? I know that part of the audience for every word I write includes three grown men I’ve never met. Three men who may one day want to ask Dad for advice. I only have my time, my love, and my words. I give those with all of my heart.

That’s why I write.

The History of Green-White Soccer Club

(Last night I was the MC for the 50th anniversary banquet for Green-White soccer club--a club that my father co-founded in 1956. They asked me to write a history of the club for the program book, and I'm reprinting it here for anyone who wasn't able to make the banquet)




A Brief History of S.C. Green White


The eighteen young men who gathered to play for the first Green White soccer team in August of 1956 never would have believed that their club would still be playing soccer today, a half century later. The founding members were all of German ancestry, and all knew each other socially as part of the Society of the Danube Swabians, but it was their common love of competitive soccer that led to the founding of the club.

Since that first game fifty years ago, some of the original players have seen their children and grandchildren play under the Green White banner. Each generation has played under slightly different circumstances as the club evolved and changed with the times. Green White left the Danube Swabians in 1982 and became an independent organization. It moved from Chicago to Mt. Prospect, and it has grown into much more than the founding members ever envisioned. From that one men’s team of German Americans, Green White has become a club for everyone of all nationalities and creeds; fielding youth teams, women’s teams, and old timers’ teams as well.

One thing, however, has not changed in the past fifty years: Green White’s devotion to soccer. Like those first eighteen men who played together in 1956, today’s Green White members are bound together by a common love of the sport. We have been blessed with some extraordinary players and members over the years, and many of them are recognized elsewhere in this program book. If you took away any one player’s or member’s contribution at any time over the past fifty years, Green White would not have been Green White.

Green White’s history is here tonight; in the flesh, in the hearts, and in the memories of every person attending this banquet.

Without every single one of you, none of this would have been possible.

Guest Blogger: Mike Medina

Mike Medina is a long time friend. We met over twenty years ago when we both worked at WPGU Radio in Champaign. We later also worked together at WLUP AM/FM. He was an integral part (some say the only funny part) of my show Ebony & Ivory. He also produced the Buzz Kilman show on that station. Mike has since gone on to study at the Second City improv school, and for the past nine years has been working as a design engineer. Mike has two kids, lives in the suburbs, hasn't had a single confirmed heart attack, and continues to dabble in his life-long passion: philosophy.

Today I asked the philosophical provacateur to write a few words about someone who would have celebrated his 66th birthday this week...John Lennon.




JOHN LENNON: Genius or Very Intelligent Man?

By Mike Medina




A lot has been written about John Lennon, none of it by me. Now I now why. When Rick asked me to write something about Lennon for his blog I was tentative, but I thought, being a lifelong Beatles/Lennon fan I’ll be able to come up with something.

* * *

Lennon was a sharp-tongued critic, a peacenik, a neglectful father, a loving father, a drunk and a househusband. But that’s not why he’s remains popular; if it were then I would be as popular as Lennon. The reason Lennon remains relevant – besides the fact that he was murdered, and was in the Beatles - is that he could write good rock songs.

When I was younger, so much younger than today, I didn’t pay much attention to the lyrics, mostly just the music. A song like “Help!” was just a catchy tune. It wasn’t something you could equate with, hypothetically of course, being depressed and moving back to your parents’ house and sleeping ‘til noon everyday. The song is a Trojan horse, sneaking in with the music and having the lyrics jump out fifteen years later.

Heard any great songs about someone’s dead-mother-that-was-never-really-their-mother-anyway lately? You can’t get much more raw and heartbreaking than “Mother” from Plastic Ono Band. “Mother don’t go, Daddy come home”, ouch! Listen to the album in its entirety and you can actually hear Lennon’s guts spilling out onto the floor.

* * *

When I worked at Starbucks I was party to a lot of idle chatter among the regulars. One interesting discussion I remember was: “Hitler: Genius or just a Very Intelligent Man”. The crux of the conversation was whether being a genocidal dictator precludes one from being a genius. I don’t think it was decided one way or the other. Let’s take this fun game and apply it to John Lennon; it’s actually a fun game to play about anyone! Remember, the only two answers are Genius or Very Intelligent Man.

Knocking up your girlfriend and getting married just as your career as an international star is starting: Very Intelligent Man. Helping record your group’s first album in one day and closing the session with “Twist and Shout”: Genius.

Becoming acid-drenched and non-functional during the mid-sixties: Very Intelligent Man. Somehow managing to write and record songs such as “Tomorrow Never Knows”, “A Day In the Life” and “I Am the Walrus”: Genius.

Recording the album “Plastic Ono Band”: Genius. Saying the Beatles were “more popular than Jesus”: Genius. Taking the time to record and assemble “Revolution 9”: Very Intelligent Man.

Going on a west coast drinking binge and substituting your estranged Asian wife with an Asian girlfriend: Very Intelligent Man Genius. Having a child, staying home to raise him, and writing the song “Beautiful Boy” which contains the heartbreaking lyric “I can hardly wait, to see you come of age”: Genius. Making a career comeback with the album “Double Fantasy” which somehow manages to make Yoko songs listenable: Genius.

Overall rating: Genius. Next time we’ll get to the bottom of the Hitler debate

Half Empty: Wedding Registry Tips

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.



Wedding Registry Tips

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern



Both of us are coming up on big anniversaries this year (15 years), and we’ve been waxing nostalgic about those halcyon days. Young, free, not a care in the world. Ready, willing and able to spend the rest of our lives with the same woman.

Neither of us regrets it for a second.

On the other hand, we wouldn't do it again for all the tea in China.

Planning a wedding isn't exactly a great experience. Inevitably some trivial disagreement will blow up into something legendary. For Rick it was a big argument with his mother about the color of the napkins at the reception. If you ever run into Dave and his wife, mention their wedding photographer and watch the sparks fly. Let's face it, everyone has something about his or her wedding that was a complete disaster.

The only wedding experience that we'd repeat is registering for gifts. Registering for wedding gifts can be very exciting because it doesn’t seem real...

“You mean all I have to do is write this item down on a piece of paper and I’ll get it?”

Yup. That’s a heck of a deal for the bride and groom. Enjoy it. We enjoyed it so much, we'd do it all over again. But this time we'd do it right.

Brides and grooms should take a little more time thinking about whether or not they’ll really need some of these things before they write them down on the list. Trust us, some of those things that look good on the Crate & Barrel shelf will never be used in real life. Ever.

Think of your guests. They are shelling out good money for these gifts. Don’t make them waste their hard earned money getting you completely useless and unnecessary items.

Here’s a helpful list to avoid.

1) Fine China

In a good year, you’ll use these fancy dishes maybe twice. In a good year. And a typical place setting goes for $150 or so. If you get ten place settings, do the math. You might as well take that $1500 and spend the weekend in Vegas. At least you’ll have good memories. $1500 worth of unused china stored in your china cabinet is the most wasteful thing in your home. Wait…check that. Do a price check on the gravy boat sometime. A typical gravy boat will cost more than a place setting. It’s a bowl that pours gravy. Seriously. Who are you trying to impress? Your boss? Who actually invites his boss to dinner? Unless you’re a hopeless kiss-ass, you’ll want to stay as far away from your boss as possible.



2) Silverware

We’re not talking about the regular fork, knife, spoon set that you’ll use every day, we’re talking about the expensive set that sits in your china cabinet and only comes out twice a year when the china comes out. The expensive set really doesn’t look any different than your regular set, and it doesn’t cut or pick up food any better either. Throw in the salad forks, and you have a clear case of needless utensil duplication. We’ve discovered that people are completely capable of using one fork for their entire dinner, and not only that, they do it every day of their lives. Who are you trying to impress? Your parents? It’s impossible to impress people who once had to wipe your bottom. Give it up.



3) Bedding

Yes, you need a fitted sheet to cover the mattress. Yes, you need a blanket to keep warm. It helps to have a backup of each. Everything else is completely unnecessary. What does the flat sheet do besides get in the way and add to the bed-making headache? Throw pillows? They are so-named because they're always in the way and you have to throw them out of your way. What about duvets? The purpose of a duvet is…um…well…hell, we have no idea what it does. It’s totally unnecessary.



4) Bathroom accoutrements

Decorative soaps aren’t that decorative and aren’t that soapy. Why display them? Really. We mean it. Why? Potpourri is nothing more than a couple of sweet smelling twigs next to the toilet. Hear that sound? That’s the sound of your wedding guests flushing their hard earned money down that same sweet smelling toilet.

Of course there are many other items that are a matter of personal taste. If you really think you need an edger to manicure your lawn like a putting green, be our guest. If you really think you need a fancy letter opener (maybe you have ten broken fingers for instance), have it at. A fancy bookmark instead of a piece of scrap paper, fine—you may be reading a book made out of gold.

All we ask is that you don’t start checking things off without thinking about them first.

And, by the way, when your wife asks you to decide between two items, ask her which one she likes better and pick the same one. You don’t really care anyway.

Do you?


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

Suburban Man: My Mind is in the Gutter

By Rick Kaempfer




How pathetic is this?

When I tell you that my mind is in the gutter, I’m literally referring to my gutters.

I hate them.

If you’ve ever had gutter problems, you know what I mean. We live on a lot with a few big old trees, and the leaves on these particular trees are magnetically attracted to my gutters. It doesn’t seem that way when I’m raking the five hundred pounds of leaves on my lawn and driveway every fall, but those leaves only land there because the gutters are completely full.

If I don’t stay on top of this job, every rain storm will create an unwanted indoor pool in my laundry room. Plus, the harder it rains, the more the leaves fall, which means my gutters fill up again while it’s raining. There have been more than a few rainstorms over the years where your good friend Suburban Man has leaned out of his dormer windows to clean out the gutters in the midst of a downpour. Getting drenched seemed like the best option at the time.

I know I could get improved state-of-the-art gutters or gutter covers, but Suburban Man is also a cheap bastard who likes to think outside of the box and solve problems like this without spending any money.

With that in mind, I have another problem which doesn’t at first blush appear to be related to my gutters in any way, but see if you can follow my logic as I suggest a bold new way to tackle two problems at one time.

Now that all three of my kids are in school, they bring home enough paper to provide confetti for Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Years Eve for the next twenty years. It’s really ridiculous. They must chop down a forest for every child in every classroom.

What does this have to do with my gutters?

Well, what if I donate all of the trees on my land to the school? Trees have to be cut down anyway. Why destroy perfectly good forests (with no gutters anywhere in sight), when I have some unwanted trees right here on my property. Everybody wins. The schools get free paper, the village won’t have to collect my five hundred pounds of non-gutter leaves, I get ten to fifteen extra hours each fall to help feed the homeless (which is what I would be doing instead of raking), and my gutters will be able to serve their intended purpose.

True, the tulip-bulb-eating squirrels will have to relocate once their homes are chopped down, but maybe that’s a good thing too. Maybe they’ll rediscover the forests. This could be the best thing that ever happened to little Rocky and his family. They shouldn’t be forced to share their native land with crass suburbanites like me. Let them frolic in the woods with their fellow squirrels in their native habitat.

Brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?

Good.

Now let me tell you about my other plan to conserve gasoline and countless man hours during the summer.

I’m thinking of converting my lawn to gravel.


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

SHORE MAGAZINE ARTICLE: How to make a German laugh

By Rick Kaempfer






(From the October/November issue of SHORE magazine--www.visitshoremagazine.com)


Because I was raised in Germany by German parents, during Oktoberfest season I’m often asked to help explain my German comrades. The most common question I hear is this: How do you make a German laugh?

I’ve never had a good answer for that. I’ve always known what doesn’t work. Sarcasm and irony, for instance, are both completely out of the question. After all, psychologists have even stopped using ink blots with Germans because they always identified the pictures as…”inkblots.”

I have noticed a smile on a German once or twice during a slapstick comedy program, but even that doesn’t always work. My son, who inherited the Germanic gene, once pointed out that mercury was toxic while watching Moe shoving a thermometer in Curly’s eye. Germans tend to be a tad literal. They are efficient, punctual and practical, but let’s face it; they aren’t funny.

After 40 plus years of trying, I finally had an epiphany the other day while visiting one of my many German relatives. What if I used one of the words that best describes Germans (practical), and applied that to my attempts at humor?

Germans must love practical jokes, right?

That’s why I have developed a series of German practical jokes that can be fun for you and your whole German family. Feel free to use any of these, but I urge you—please have a paramedic standing by, just in case.

1) Tell your mother that you’re leaving your good job to pursue a career in the theater. When she asks about your health insurance coverage, simply reply that you, your wife and 3 kids feel great so “what could possibly happen”?

2) Start writing mushy cards to your uncles. Better yet, tell them in person and touch them as much as possible.

3) Volunteer to mow your father’s lawn, and then mow it counter-clockwise.

4) Sneak in your Aunt’s house and rearrange her Hummel collection. Put the little boy fishing where the little milk jug girl should be.

5) Take your grandmother shopping and purposely go through the 10 items or less aisle with 11 items. Tell the clerk that it was your grandmother’s idea.

6) Take your grandfather to a soccer game, and then don’t sit in your assigned seats. Say “follow my lead if the people who really have these seats ever show up.”

7) When the food gets passed around, serve yourself only vegetables. When someone asks why say, “I’ve decided to become a vegetarian.”

Try these out at your German house and report back to me. You may not get any laughs out of your victims, but if you don’t find their reactions hilarious, you might be a little too German yourself.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Half Empty: Raising the bar

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.






"Raising the bar"

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern





It’s now considered a cliché: “I gave it 110% effort.”

We’re not here to argue the mathematical impossibility of that statement. We accept the fact that some people are so driven, so hard-working, and so intense, that to describe their full effort as merely 100% seems insufficient. And we tip our caps to them.

The Rest of Us

“If you don’t like your job, you don’t strike! You just go in there every day and do it really half-assed. That’s the American way!”
--Homer Simpson

Unfortunately, for those of you who like to do things a little... ahem...half-hearted, that raises the bar for you too. It’s no longer good enough to simply give it 50% effort. You’re now expected to give it 55% just to remain half-assed. We know what you’re thinking. Where are you going to get that extra 5%?

This is where you good buddies Rick and Dave come in. We’ve done a careful analysis of some every day tasks in life, and have managed to identify a few tasks that can very easily be third assed, quarter-assed, and fifth-assed. This will give you excess effort to put into more important pursuits. Your new results could get you to the 60% mark.

Don’t worry about having too much effort on your hands. It’s just a matter of time before someone takes it up to 120% effort. When they do, you’ll be able to wear your half-ass like a comfortable old shoe.

33% Effort Required

“A pint of sweat saves a gallon of blood.”
George S. Patton, General (1885-1945)

What General Patton said may be true, but remember this: The blood banks give you a free snack for the blood you donate, and nobody gives you anything for your sweat. You might as well keep that precious moisture in your body. You’re going to need it, because let’s face it, the refrigerator is all the way on the other side of the room, and that beverage won’t come to you by itself.

So where can you cut back? Since you’re already giving it the full 50% at work (because they are paying you do to so), the first place to look for opportunities is at home. While your family does expect you to do certain things for them, they don’t expect you to do them well. After all, these people are your blood. Right, General Patton?

Here are a few examples in which the good ol’ 33% effort is more than enough.

*Giving Backrubs To Your Wife – Now, we’re not saying don’t give your wife a back massage. We’re just saying don’t get particularly good at it. Two reasons: 1) The better you are, the longer she’s going to want you to do it and quite frankly, it hurts. 2) If you get really good at it, she’s going to tell all her friends and that’s going to tick off your buddies. Go through the motions and make sure you can still see the TV.

*Reading to Toddlers—They can’t read, and there’s very little chance they will care or notice if you skip paragraphs or entire pages. They’re looking at the pictures. Point out the different things in the pictures. “Look, honey, the pig. Can you say ‘pig’? Good. Can you say ‘The End’? Good. Sleep tight, sweetheart.” We know you just read her a Duck on a Bike and went from the pig to the goat and totally blew off the chicken, mouse and cow and it made no sense, but remember this: It’s about poultry riding two-wheelers. How much sense could it ever make?

25% Effort Required

“If you cut every corner,
It is really not so bad.
Everybody does it,
Even Mom and Dad.
If nobody sees,
Then nobody gets mad.
It’s the American Way!”
--Mary Poppins (on the Simpsons)


While it’s important to start cutting corners wherever you can, you have to give it some thought and plan ahead. With a little forethought, your every day tasks can be done with little to no effort. It’s a crucial component for eventually reaching that magical 55% threshold.


*Selecting Fruit –We’ve all seen the way people pluck, smell, rattle, shake and listen to kiwi before they buy it. There is absolutely no proof that any of this helps. Here’s a tip, if you see any tire tracks or hypodermic needles in the fruit don’t buy it.


*Grilled Cheese Sandwiches – You could get out the frying pan, butter both sides of the bread, and make it the old fashioned way. Or, you could put two pieces of bread in the toaster, then put a piece of cheese between the toasted bread, and microwave it for twenty seconds. Your choice—it tastes pretty much the same.

*Shoveling Snow – OK, due to certain municipal ordinances you have to do this one. Yet, there is nothing in the law that says you have to be good at it. Make a single shovel width path and that’s it. There is no need to clean the entire sidewalk or be neat. When was the last time the Vienna Boys choir walked in front of your house? Oh and by the way, have you ever heard of the sun?


*Washing the Car – You’ll hear all sorts of doomsayers tell you that allowing the winter salt to remain on your car will cause rust eventually. This is true. Ten years from now, when the car is worth squat, it will begin to rust. This may cost you a hundred bucks or so...ten years from now. Your time is worth much more than that. If the good Lord wanted you to wash the car, he wouldn’t have invented nature’s car wash: Rain.


*Balancing Your Check Book – In the history of the world there have been exactly three people who have found bank errors. Those three people got a total credit of $1.26. Have you gotten an overdraft notice? No? Then what’s the problem?

*Laundry – Wash everything in warm. Dry everything on medium. End of story.



20% Effort Required

“Why push when you go through a revolving door? Somebody else will show up sooner or later.”
--Milton Berle

There are some tasks that even the “110% effort people” don’t do with full gusto. Those that do should be put away before they harm someone. Here are tasks that require no more than 20% effort. You owe it to yourself and your rest.


*Flossing – Most dentists feel you should spend up to 3 minutes everyday flossing. Who’s got that much time? They say you should count about ten up and down strokes on each tooth. Do the math. Most people have 28 teeth, that’s 280 strokes! Talk about overkill. Just get the big hunks of the Heath Bar in front and you’re fine. Our buddy Nick agrees and he’s a dentist. He also wanted us to mention that he takes all major medical and is open 6 days a week.


*Selecting Greeting Cards for Men – You’re a guy. You’re buying a card for a guy. Just take the first card you see. He won’t care. Honestly, he doesn’t read them. If you don’t believe me, next time watch his eyes while he is “reading” your card. They don’t move. All of us have practiced that dopey smile and head nod. This of course only pertains to serious cards. For the mean funny cards we’ve also practiced the fake laugh. Trust us, if you’re giving a bald guy a wacky birthday card he’s seen it before. We open the card and look for cash, after that it’s all show.

*Making the Bed – Unless you live in a studio apartment, there’s an invention that can help you overcome the need to make your bed. It’s called a bedroom door. Close it. Let’s face it, you won’t be entertaining guests in the bedroom (if you do, we want to party with you), and you don’t care if your bed is made or not. Door closed: Case closed.

Doing the Math

Society is changing, and you have to change with it.

If you follow our simple suggestions, your effort reservoir will begin to fill up. A quarter effort here, a third effort here, a fifth effort there, and before you know it, you’ll be up past 55%--the new half-assed water mark.

No need to thank us for helping you get there. It’s not worth the effort.

Suburban Man: Boys will be Boys

Sorry for the late posting. Our power went out last night and only came back on this morning.



By Rick Kaempfer




Between 7:30 a.m. when Bridget leaves for work, and 6:00 p.m or so when she returns, our house is uni-gender: Just Dad and his three boys.

I’ve always relished this arrangement and so have the boys. Any parent knows that boys and girls have some genetic tendencies (from birth) that cannot be denied. While our situation does not fit all gender stereotypes because I’m a stay-at-home dad, my boys undoubtedly have some genetic male tendencies, and some of them have been heightened by spending so much time with Dad. For instance, the way we communicate is very stereotypically male.

*Logic is our friend.

*What you see is what you get.

*Substance trumps style.

*There are no secrets.

*It’s always OK to joke around.

We slipped into this comfortable lifestyle effortlessly after I became the primary caregiver of the household. In each of the five ways listed above, I think our male-dominant home is a little bit different than a female-dominated home….and in a good way. We spend a lot of time laughing and almost no time at all engaged in needless mind games.

On the other hand, we also fit the gender stereotypes in ways which are a little less admirable.

*Diplomacy is not our friend.

*Modesty is virtually non-existent.

*Negotiation is always a three step process.
1) State your case and expect agreement.
2) Threaten.
3) Make your point physically.

*Hygiene is not a top priority.

I’ve been working hard on making the boys a little less stereotypically male on these last four points, but so far I’m losing the battle.

Especially with the modesty issue.

The boys are so cavalier about modesty that they think nothing of walking around the house naked after they come out of the shower. This is no big deal when it’s just the four of us, but it’s a huge problem when we have company. All three of them still have a hard time making that distinction at times.

My youngest son Sean takes the modesty issue to extremes. He has the Pavlovian habit of stripping down whenever he hears the shower running. He’ll part the curtains and jump right in. That doesn’t really bother his brothers, but it really bothers my sister and mother when he stays at their homes. They’ve learned to ALWAYS lock the door. (I’ve talked to him about this, but the Pavlovian effect is difficult to wipe out.)

The bathroom, in general, is a problem. When they take care of business, they bring an entire library with them. I understand their need for uninterrupted solitude, but it turns out the teachers at school don’t share that understanding. Neither do our friends and relatives. A house party deprived of unoccupied bathrooms has a tendency to cause problems…especially when beverages are served.

But we’re working on these issues, we really are.

Don’t look at me that way. I know what you’re thinking.

I swear it really isn’t a case of monkey-see, monkey-do. I don’t do any of these things myself because I had it beaten out of me growing up in a home with a mother and a sister. My mistake was not doing the same thing with my boys when they exhibited these natural male tendencies. Unfortunately, because there were no women around, and it wasn’t really disrupting our household, I didn’t crack down on this behavior. As it turns out, that was a huge mistake.

God only knows what other mistakes I’ve already made that haven’t yet reared their ugly heads. Sometimes I worry that I’m raising boys with an entirely skewed view of the world, but all I can do is keep doing my best, and hope that I’m not causing any long-term damage.

On the bright side, I know I’m raising boys who are self-assured, reasonable, substantive, and funny. That can take them a long way in life.

The question is: Will the world ever discover that if they never get out of the bathroom?


If you missed a previous Suburban Man column, click here: http://rickkaempfer.blogspot.com

Best Day Ever

Bears win big versus Seattle. The only undefeated team in the NFC. Time to bring back a certain song...

The Super Bowl Shuffle


How long before these guys return? (Note: Look out for the Bulls this year too)

The Super Fans


AND...Andy McFail forced out as the President of the Cubs.

The Cubs in 2007

Life has never been this good.

LOOP SCOOP MAGAZINE ARTICLE: Jim Shorts Interview

In 1992, Loop Scoop Magazine asked me to appear on Kevin Matthews Show (then on AM 1000--10:30-3PM) and interview sportscaster Jim Shorts. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life. The following is a partial transcript of that interview.


"JIM SHORTS"
By Rick Kaempfer


Jim Shorts is one of a kind: brash, violent, lady killer. But what is he really like? LOOP SCOOP decided the only way to find out was to subject him to the type of tough, uncompromising interview he himself has made famous. We sent out our reporter, Rick Kaempfer, to find out if the "real" Jim Shorts differs from his bigger-than-life persona heard every day on the Kevin Matthews Show.

RK: We've gotten to know your parents over the years. They seem to be loving and giving. Tell us something they did to you, that has screwed you up for life.

JS: They let my brother Glenn throw gasoline on me, and Glenn held up a match to me, but it didn't burst. And they made me go on a weekend trip with my Uncle.

RK: Which Uncle?

JS: I can't say. He's still in prison.

RK: Jim, just out of curiosity, I've noticed your father keeps calling you Richard. Is that your real name?

JS: I can't say. No comment.

RK: Fine. Everybody in radio seems to have a story about a boss somewhere that made them change their name. Are there any bad radio names you rejected?

JS: Yeah, Jack Silver and Shemp.

RK: What do you think of Kevin?

RK: What about your Wang. A recent poll of our listeners showed that only 10% actually believe you two are "just good friends". When are you going to get off your high horse, admit it, and marry the girl?

JS: It is very hard to bridle a stallion.

RK: Well, if Wang isn't the one, what kind of girl are you looking for?

JS: Hair. She has to have hair.

RK: Speaking of hair...Jim, you are as bald as a cueball, but yet you are self-assured, almost cocky. I'm sure your bald fans would love to know the secret.

JS: I call Tom Thayer. He's like my support group.

RK: Jim, what don't you sing anymore?

JS: I do. I'm actually putting a band together. It will be called Jim Shorts and the Melody Makers. And if you're a senior citizen in a rest home, write us and we'll come out and play for you.

RK: Play now.

JS: I'm not a monkey.

RK: Yes, but your child is. Every proud papa has a cute story about their little ones. Tell us about Luger.

JS: I almost cried the first time we clapped our hands together and he did a little backflip.

RK: Having a kid makes us all get a little philosophical. Let me ask you this, and I'll let you go. If a genie suddenly appeared on your doorstep and granted you a wish, anything at all, what would you wish for?

JS: Anything?

RK: Anything.

JS: Anything in the entire world?

RK: Yup..

JS: A new hip for Red Kerr.



*Kevin Matthews is now on the air in Grand Rapids, Michigan and I caught up with him a few months ago and interviewed him for SHORE Magazine

RK: You were in Grand Rapids for years. It must help returning to town as a known quantity.

Kevin: Yeah. Even when I was at AM 1000 (in Chicago), the signal reached to this part of Western Michigan.

RK: How are things going?

Kevin: It’s been really wonderful. I went to school here, got married here, my son Trevor was born here, and I’m working with the guy who first hired me in radio (newsman Ed Buchanan). It’s good to be home.

RK: How does the Grand Rapids market differ from Chicago?

Kevin: It’s just as competitive, but this is a historic classic rock station (96.9 FM, WLAV), and it’s incredible working somewhere people actually want to work instead of a place where people are handing out their resumes.

RK: Is Jim still a part of the show?

Kevin: Oh yeah.

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