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.

Guest Blogger: Johnny Conlisk

Johnny Conlisk is as “Chicago” as they come. Both his father and grandfather were high ranking members of the Chicago Police Department. Many other family members have been Chicago Police officers as well. His father advised him not to go into “the family business” and Johnny took him at his word.

For many years, Johnny Conlisk was a character actor and model appearing in television commercials and newspaper and magazine ads.

In 2004, Johnny and his wife, Janet Treuhaft formed Johnny-Sells.com, an eBay Trading Assistant company not far from Wrigley Field. They sell Chicagoans’ no longer used valuables to buyers all over the world in exchange for a modest commission. Please click www.Johnny-Sells.com to learn how they can sell for you on eBay.

I asked him to blog about the riots between the Chicago Police and the hippies at the 1968 Democratic National Convention. He was there, and has a unique perspective...



The Whole World is Watching

By Johnny Conlisk


In August of 1968, when I was a 16 year-old kid just about to start my senior year in high school, I got to play a small part in the Democratic National Convention.

For months before the big event, city officials planned how to lay out the red carpet for the convention delegates. The first Mayor Daley formed the Chicago Host Committee. Thousands of volunteers were assigned to help the various state delegates find their way around town and stay out of trouble. You had to be connected to get one of these fun jobs and I was connected. My father was the chief of police.

Our first task was to greet delegates at O’Hare. We were issued candy striped vests and Styrofoam straw hats to identify us as Host Committee volunteers.

After that, I had hoped to be with the California or New York delegations where the action was. Instead, I was assigned to the tiny Guam delegation. They were very nice, but they weren’t movie stars or big time politicians.

We helped them find the shops on Michigan avenue and an off duty policeman would drive them out to the International Amphitheater. It was all pretty cool.

We heard about the anti-war protestors, they were on TV every night. But I guess our job was to keep the Guamanians away from all that during our 14-hour days of hosting, so it wasn’t at the top of my consciousness.

The big goal for all the kids volunteering was to get into the convention hall itself. There was little hope of that, however, because the town was full of important people who would get in before high school kids.

Then the word was passed down. Wednesday night, August 28, 1968 was my night to get into the convention hall. My friend, Bill Finucane and I went to the Amphitheater together. We were ushered into the second level gallery. We realized later that the Mayor’s people were packing the galleries. They knew there was going to be trouble that night and they wanted an audience that would be friendly to the Mayor. We listened to the speeches echo through the rafters of the craggy old hall.

Then we heard booing during the speech of Senator Abraham Ribocoff and we heard him say “Storm troopers in Blue”. Bill and I turned to each other. What was he talking about?

After that evening’s session was over, I got a ride back downtown to the Conrad Hilton. I didn’t know that a riot had taken place in front of the Hilton a couple hours earlier. I just knew that the Airport Bus that left from there made a stop near our house.

The bus left from the south side of the Hilton. When I found out I would have to wait a half hour for the next bus, I walked up to the Michigan Avenue side of the hotel. There were thousands of cops on the west side of the street and thousands of hippies on the east side of the street. In the middle were Illinois National Guard Jeeps strung with barbed wire.

The first person I recognized was Jim Rochford, Deputy Chief of Police, my father’s best friend, and the guy in charge of the thousands of cops. “Hi, Mr. Rochford!” I said cheerily to the casually dressed chief.

“What are you doing here?” He asked incredulously.

“I’m waiting for the airport bus.”

“Oh, well, stay out of trouble.”

I wandered over to the hippie’s side of the street.

As I stood on the curb on the edge of the crowd, my powder blue jacket flapped in the light breeze, revealing the candy-striped vest of the Chicago Host Committee. Suddenly, a baseball-sized rock flew just past my ear and landed on the trunk of a parked car with a loud bang.

I looked up and saw Rochford ordering two burly cops to come over and rescue me. The hippies mistook my rescuers for arresting officers. They booed loudly as I was gently dragged across the street.

“I told you to stay out of trouble!” Rochford barked as they put me in a squad car to drive me over to police headquarters, a couple blocks away.

Several hours later, the crisis eased, an officer gave me a lift home and the excitement was all over.

Sometimes you make history, sometimes history makes you and sometimes, history is just something that happens while you are waiting for a bus.







This is Johnny with Deputy Chief Rochford at a wedding in 1977.









Johnny Conlisk (2006) with his 'heart,' Janet Treuhaft







If you'd like to read any of my previous guest bloggers, click here: http://rickkaempferguestbloggers.blogspot.com

Half Empty: Video Games for Grown Ups

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.




Video Games for Grown-Ups
By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern





If you’re a parent with kids over the age of seven, the odds of having some sort of a video game system in your home is roughly the same as owning a fork. (There’s also a ninety seven percent chance that at some point you’ve said the following words: “When we were kids all we had was Pong.”) Throughout it all, you’ve quietly watched your children joyfully slaying dragons, stealing cars, and machine-gunning entire urban neighborhoods, but you’ve never once asked…what’s in it for us?

We’re asking it now. What’s in for us?

We know the youngsters who work for the video game companies don’t think about this huge untapped middle-aged “gamer” market out there, so we’ve taken the liberty to offer suggestions for video games that might interest people our age. These nine completely free* ideas, are available to any and all video game companies.


Sonia the Soccer Mom
The game is set in Suburbania, the beautiful village by the interstate. In Level One, Sonia signs up her identically dressed identical twins Ashley and Amber for soccer at the park district. Things start to get ugly when Sonia is pegged as driver for the entire team. Negotiating through summer construction projects, Sonia must pilot the minivan through multiple sub-divisions that look exactly the same while picking up Emily, Madison, Emma, Tori, Maya and Mia. Players need to move quickly through the game or run the risk of draining all their allotted $3.56/gallon gas. Take too long and the Starbuck’s Grande Latte Sonia picked up in level one will get cold.


Mr. Fix It
In this game, the home improvement novice will be given exactly $1500 in his savings account and will face every conceivable problem a homeowner can encounter…each of which costs $1500 to fix. Mr. Fix-It must choose which one is the most important (or dangerous), and then he must attempt to fix the rest of these problems himself. The first level, The Yard, won’t be too difficult, and it includes three free emergency room visits. In the second level, Plumbing Problems, Mr. Fix It could potentially destroy his entire house. And no-one has yet survived the third level: Electrical Problems.


Audit Assault
The fun never ends when the IRS man shows up unannounced at your front door. In level one, you’ll have to look for your receipts from 1999 while simultaneously keeping the IRS man away from your “actual” books. In this ironic twist, points are deducted for things you shouldn’t have deducted, and for the most grievous illegal deductions (“Shouldn’t beer be deductible if I drink while I’m working?”), you can have your house taken away from you. In the two-player version of this game, you are allowed one call from jail in Level Three.


Company Christmas Party
Deck the halls with balls of fun for this holiday favorite. It’s December 17th and time for Acme Corp’s annual Christmas Party. Players will negotiate through countless meaningless conversations and fake laughs as they make their way through the pre-dinner cocktail hour in Level One. Uh-Oh you’ve been seated next to your manager’s wife who thinks that your knee is a perfect place to rest her hand. Points are deducted in Level Two when you start drinking and tell off color racist jokes within earshot of your Jewish comptroller. Be extra careful not to get sucked into the mistletoe black hole.


20 YEAR High School Reunion
It’s only four weeks before Nick goes back to St. Bestyearsgoneby for his 20th High School Reunion. The clock is ticking as the Level One player searches for miracle weight loss diets, really good jobs, and hair. Level Two finds our hero dodging the bullies at the function and trying to convince the head cheerleader that he really did sit next to her in English. Points will be deducted for all awkward silence and any damage to the sports car that Nick rented for the occasion.


Family Vacation
It’s finally here, the long awaited family winter vacation to Disney World. This game follows Mr. and Mrs. Broke and their four children from the time they leave their home with gleeful anticipation till the time their disheartened spirits come back. The perils immediately start in level one when they get delayed for 13 hours in Atlanta surviving on vending machine muffins and over priced bagels. Uh-oh Florida is known for rain and this storm is a biggie. Players must search for $30 plastic garbage rain smocks. Player skill is tested when all three children get the flu. Go over budget and only one kid can go to college.


In-Law Invasion
It’s the first day of summer and the recently retired in-laws have flown into town with one-way tickets to spend some quality time with their grandchildren. In Level One, you must adapt every thing you do to the way “we’ve always done it”. In Level Two you are no longer allowed to discuss anything other than religion and politics. In Level Three, points are deducted for putting “just a touch” of poison in the morning coffee.


Working For The Man
Set in a typical non-descript office; Benjamin Boring is sitting in his cubicle as usual. He’s only got 6 years until retirement and must find a way to keep his job. Players must avoid the evil twin villains, Downsizing and Foreign Outsourcing. Bonus points are awarded for looking busy and running office pools. Level Three provides gamers with the famous Frozen Pension Maze. Working for the Man 2 has the bonus Loss of Insurance Coverage conundrum.


Stress Test
Feeling a little too tired to make it to the doctor for this year’s Stress Test? Do it from the comfort of your La-Z-Boy, with “Stress Test, The Video Game.” In Level One your player will run on a treadmill with wires attached all over his body. In Level Two, you will pick out which hospital room you want him to have for his angioplasty recovery. In Level Three, you get your choice of Jell-o flavors.


Let the kids have their fun with Sonic the Hedge Hog and Madden Football. We’ll show them what real terror looks like. On second thought, Pong doesn’t look so bad.




*By “Free” we mean that we would retain the customary 51% ownership. That might as well be free, you ungrateful little snots.




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

Suburban Man: Profession Projection

By Rick Kaempfer



Every parent knows that the most satisfying and wonderful part of parenting is watching your child grow up. It’s really quite amazing. You see him develop from a little blob, to a walking/talking little person, to someone with a personality, to someone who may actually make a contribution to society.

As this happens, you can’t help but wonder where he will fit in someday. Every parent does this. You get an idea in your head about your child’s potential profession and you make little bets with yourself—trying to predict.

I know my kids are young (11, 8, 4), but now that I’m around them 24 hours a day (will this summer ever end?); I’m prepared to make official predictions.


Sean (4 years old)

Here’s a question that Bridget and I have never asked: “Is Sean awake?”

Sean is loud. When he wakes up in the morning, he is already talking. He continues talking for the rest of the day, pausing only to breathe occasionally. The most common question we hear from people who spend a whole day with him is: “Does he ever stop talking?”

No. He doesn’t. He provides a running commentary on every single thing he sees throughout a day. He’s talking right now. He talks when eats. He talks when you’re talking. He even talks in his sleep. When I ask him to be quiet, he's not quiet enough to hear me ask.

If you can get past the noise, however, Sean has some great qualities. He’s very intelligent and inquisitive, and his enthusiasm is absolutely contagious. Every single thing is a big deal to him, and that’s fun to watch.

Last night when I asked him what he wants to be when he grows up, he was so excited by the question he couldn’t stop giving me possibilities. After talking it out, he narrowed it down to two choices. He is either going to be a doctor so he can give out band-aids to everyone (he believes that band-aids cure everything), or a fireman because he likes the hats.

My prediction? Politician.



Johnny (8 years old)


Johnny has got a big heart. He absolutely loves everyone. In fact, considering that he’s half German, his fondness for hugging is almost disconcerting.

On the other hand, Johnny is also a big enforcer of the rules…for other people. When Sean or Tommy break the rules, Johnny can be counted on to let me know. No rule is insignificant enough to be disregarded. The other night he nearly turned the table over at dinner time when Sean was chewing with his mouth open (because Sean’s mouth never actually closes).

While he could be classified as a tattle-tale, Johnny is also willing to take matters in his own hands. If I’m not around to be informed of his brother’s indiscretions, Johnny has no qualms with instituting vigilante justice. He’s got Irish blood in him from his mother’s side, and his Irish temper is always just below the surface. As far as Johnny’s concerned, the perps need to pay, and if nobody else is willing or able to make them pay…a man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do.

I asked Johnny what he wants to be when grows up. He told me he wanted to be a wrestler in space.

My prediction? Chicago cop.



Tommy (11 years old)

Tommy is unusually bright. So much so, he frightens me at times. On the other hand, when you have an overabundance of one thing, you have a tendency to have some glaring weaknesses too. For Tommy, that would be anything in the physical realm. This is a boy who broke his arm tripping over his own shoelaces.

Every day is a series of endless possibilities and challenges. He can instantly convert any word problem into an equation, but he forgets that his chair isn’t there anymore before he sits down. He can study a scientific phenomenon for weeks, but he can’t remember to put on his shoes before he leaves the house. He can search the audio files on his computer, transfer them into editing software, and create an audio montage, but he doesn’t notice that his glasses have an inch of dirt covering the lenses.

I asked him what he wants to be when he grows up, and he said: “Cartoonist.” (See previous Suburban Man: “Cartoon father”).

My prediction? I.T. Guy



I reserve the right to change my mind, but as of August 22, 2006, that is my prediction.

Someday I fully expect to have a sticker on my car bumper from Sean’s latest campaign, a police sticker in my back windshield from Johnny (protecting me in case I get pulled over), and the most bitchin’ computer at the old folks home thanks to Tommy.

Feel free to check back in twenty years to see how I did.


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

Guest Blogger: Spike Manton

Spike Manton is a radio personality (WCKG, WLUP, ESPN), a comedian, and a playwright. He co-wrote the outstanding play "Leaving Iowa", which is now playing at the Royal George Theatre in Chicago. (www.leavingiowa.com). The play is about a family car vacation.

He recently lived the story line...




"21st Century Vacations"

By Spike Manton

I just returned from a family vacation with my wife and 2 kids. We drove to upstate New York in our minivan, a minivan that seats 7 adults, yet was barely able to fit two kids and their belongings for a long weekend. The drive was long, but painless. How could it be anything else with three car chargers, two DVD players and two gameboys? One thing was abundantly clear - their car trip was more fun than any vacation I ever had in my life.

I grew up in your standard 1960’s family unit of 4 kids, 2 pets and one station wagon the size of Rhode Island. When we went on vacation, we drove. We drove everywhere. Who didn’t back then? I maintain that from 1945 until 1980 the only thing that changed for the family vacation was the size of the paneling on the side of the station wagon. America worked 50 weeks a year and then piled into their beastmobile and drove off to see some other part of the country. Anywhere was better than that boring, humdrum monument to monotony called home. It was an annual family ritual that underwent a great change somewhere in the 80’s. I blame gameboys, cheap airfares and seatbelts as the biggest culprits.

Yes, seatbelts. Our kids will never know the insanity of hanging out the back window throwing fruit at the trucker behind you, and then climbing over three seats to ride on Dad’s lap to help him steer, all while traveling 65 mph down the highway. How can you have a real fight in the back seat if you are both strapped in place like a hostage?

Of course, technology is biggest culprit. Slug Bug, the License Plate Game, The Alphabet game, Billboard bingo were the only options in the mobile amusement park of my childhood. They were boring, brief distractions in the non-air conditioned hell we endured between rest area picnic stops. Then came the Gameboy and suddenly the back seat was silent. Dads drove for hours without hearing a peep. The only emergency to prevent was running out of AA batteries. It was the end of an era. My nephews once arrived at my home at the end of a 16 hour trip and STAYED IN THE CAR FOR 20 MINUTES BECAUSE THEY WERE FINISHING A GAME ON THEIR GAMEBOY. It was a far cry from the moments I entertained leaping from our moving car just to escape.

In the end, I am not complaining. I wouldn’t trade vacations with my Dad’s generation for anything. I like my quiet, headphone laden minivan. It makes it easier for me to hear the GPS directions while talking on my pocket PC phone with my Bluetooth headset.

Half Empty: Worst Jobs

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.





"Worst Jobs"

By Rick Kaempfer & Dave Stern





Big Brother is watching.

Don’t worry, it’s only Rick (technically he is a big brother) and he’s watching. During the lifetime of this blog, Rick has discovered that most of the hits have occurred between 8:00A – 5:00P Monday thru Friday. For all of you with gainful employment, thumbs up to sticking it to the man. Is it because this blog is an indispensable source of humor or is it because you hate your job?

We think it's the latter.

As always, Rick and Dave are concerned with your happiness and want to help. While you’re toiling through your mundane work experience, remember it could be worse. There are jobs out there far worse than yours. Feeling better about yourself through the misfortunes of others (Germans call this 'Schadenfreude') has always worked pretty well for us. Take our lead and think about the following vocations next time you get depressed about your own:


1) The coach of the Washington Generals
This is the team that plays the Harlem Globetrotters every night. Their record? 0-6,000,000. That's even worse than the Cubs.

2) The Star Trek guy that accompanies Kirk, Spock and Bones on a mission
Take this job and you’re 100% certain to be eaten by a large space alien or whacked by a Klingon. Worst part, you ain’t getting any of the syndication money.

3) Santa's Elf
So you're an accountant and you think that April is the busy season? Fourth Quarter at Santa's Workshop would make your calculator melt.

4) Rodeo Clown
If antagonizing a 2,000-pound horn-wielding cranky beast is your bag, go for it. Here’s a tip though, try to negotiate not having to wear size 54 shoes.

5) Steve's replacement on Blues Clues
Take this job and you’ll be forever compared to perhaps the greatest performer in history. Steve is a better dancer than Joe, he’s a better singer than Joe, and he’s a better artist than Joe. He can fill a whole notebook in a day, twice.

6) Paris Hilton’s Calculus Professor
Teacher: Please compute...
Paris: My doggie likes to eat food.

7) The tragedy receptionist
Every time there's an awful tragedy like a plane, train, or bus crash, there's always a hotline for family members to inquire about the fate of their loved ones. Somebody has to answer those calls. We're assuming they don't have that automated yet..."Press the first three letters of the last name followed by the pound sign, to find out if your loved one has survived."

8) Naomi Canpbell’s domestic help –
If you wear a helmet you might escape with your life, but those lanky-types pack more of a whallop than you think.


9) High School Driving Instructor
Not only will you have to teach teenagers who don't fear death, you’ll have jerks like us purposely cutting you off in traffic for kicks.


So, the next time you’re feeling sorry for yourself because you have a crappy job, think of these poor shlubs. No matter how bad your life is, it could be worse.

Puts a smile on your face just thinking about it, doesn't it?



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



Today is the anniversary of Elvis' death. Click here to read how the tenth anniversary of his death in 1987 inadvertantly led to a lifelong obsession of mine: Snow Dome King

Suburban Man: Feeding Children

By Rick Kaempfer




When I became the primary caregiver for my family, some people who knew me well worried about the health of my children. According to this chicken-little crowd, my caffeine/fast food/alcohol diet wasn’t the best example to set for the boys. They also knew what picky eaters my children were, and worried that I wouldn’t be able to accommodate their persnickety-ness.

How picky were my boys? I could give you dozens of examples, but I think the one that best exemplified their eating habits is this: The presence of any tiny green flecks (like parsley) on any item on any plate caused a complete boycott of the meal. Tommy even came up with a word to describe this phenomenon: Lickeys. Let me scream it in a sentence for you.

“EWWWWWWW, THIS PIZZA HAS LICKEYS!!!!!!!!”

I can understand why some people were worried that a care-giving novice like me would have difficulties adjusting.

Well, sorry to disappoint the naysayers, but I’m here to report that we’ve made incredible progress in this area. My own diet is much better since I eliminated one of my three vices (note: it’s not caffeine or alcohol), and the boys aren’t nearly as picky as they used to be. In fact, I’m going to go so far as to say that my three boys now have an almost perfect diet. They eat all of the food groups every day.

Granted, each of them only eats one, but this is still progress.

I’ve learned to make the best of my family’s culinary challenge by slowly but surely encouraging food experimentation within their own chosen food group (Tommy-carbs, Johnny-meat, Sean-fruits/vegetables). The results have been astounding. Collectively they will eat just about anything now.

For instance, I used to make four different meals a night, just to avoid the fights. Ever since I discovered that each boy is willing to experiment within his chosen food group, I’m down to one normal healthy meal for everyone. This saves an incredible amount of time and effort, and allows me to have some fun trying out different foods.

Sean and Tommy aren’t big meat eaters, but if I tell Johnny that the mystery meat on his plate is some sort of sausage, he’ll eat it—no questions asked. Tommy and Johnny aren’t big fruit or vegetable eaters, but Sean will try everything from spinach to eggplant to boysenberries without complaint. Sean and Johnny are not exactly carboholics, but Tommy would be accepted by any local twelve-step program, which allows me to experiment with any form of carbohydrate on the planet (as long as it’s white).

Of course, this new approach ensures that each of the boys is now guaranteed to have at least two things on his plate that he doesn’t eat, but somehow the intra-food-group experimentation has fostered a certain amount of tentative inter-food-group experimentation too.

Sean will now nibble on meat and carbs occasionally as long as his plate is mostly covered with fruits and vegetables. If he ever learns to sit still for more three seconds, I have high hopes for his future eating ability.

Johnny is still a ravenous carnivore, but he has also discovered that fruit actually tastes good. He will now regularly devour entire oranges and apples. Two years ago, this was a ridiculous pipedream.

Tommy will now eat tiny lickey-free pieces of meat and five or six different types of vegetables as long as the plate is still mostly covered with carbs. This is such a miracle that the Pope has dispatched investigators to document my future beatitude.

Of course, there is a slight downside to this new approach: our food bills are getting bigger and bigger. Bridget and I are fully expecting to be eaten out of house and home when all three of them are teenagers. On the other hand, at least we’re a little more confident they’ll make it to their teen years now.

And to me, that’s progress.



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