Thursday, February 02, 2006
JUSTIN MORGAN HAD A HORSE*
Barack Obama has a blog**
And Satya C got a brand-new ring.***
*While growing up just outside of McHenry in Johnsburg, Illinois (not unlike the Tom Waits song from Swordfishtrombones), my favorite author was Marguerite Henry (who was born in Milwaukee and lived in Chicago for awhile) and King of the Wind my favorite book -- far better than National Velvet if you ask me -- and I read it all the time, even though right outside we had 40 real, (mostly Appaloosa) horses -- one of which was mine. That is, until I decided to live below the poverty level with my mother... Then Buckwheat was immediately sold and my worldly possessions (toys, clothes, jewelry, etc) were gifted to the stempmotha's niece. Only after much lobbying was my mother grudgingly given $200 to replace the whole lot. I created an elaborate chart of what I wore to seventh grade each and every day so that no one knew I only had three outfits. But that's a whole 'nother story.
.... Justin Morgan and Samuel Adams -- separated at birth?
**If any of the five people reading this know of any Chicago luminaries / Windy City denizens who're prominent in their fields and keep blogs, let me know ASAP so I may further indulge my pathetic obsession.
....speaking of which -- apparently even local playwright/comedian/tritathlete Aaron Freeman, of Council Wars fame, shares my taste in templates. And we raced the same triathlon and attended the same after-party in 1991, and currently do those little essays on public radio. But as Gridlife points out, "He is: A Black Jew. You Are: A WASP-y nondenominational. He is: Non afraid to put his picture up. You Are: Oddly afraid to have any picture up." Plus he's older, gifted and black. I'm allegedly free, white and 41. Add your wry comment here: ______________________________________.
***The ring, a gift from Dorian Black, who is white, is not for 'roids but for a sore tailbone, the source of which seems to be the bucket seat in the new (1992) Honda-car, which I've been driving far too often of late.