Opening Day!!

Hello darkness my old friend. The Tribune Corporation is sold for $34bn $8.2bn ($34/share) to a Chicago billionaire to make it the most heavily indebted media company in the world. Let us now celebrate then the last fling of the Tribune Co. in an attempt to buy a Championship for the soon-to-be-sold Cubs. Dead-End Street of Dreams:

1. Denial (May). This isn't happening. This season isn't going down like the previous 98 Saharan seasons. No sir. The sky is always blue. Everybody has perfect posture. We'll all live forever. Heidi Klum/Brad Pitt wants me.

2. Anger (June). What kind of benevolent God would allow the Cubs to do this to me again? This kind of benevolent God: The kind of benevolent God who gets his kicks out of using a magnifying glass to burn the wings off defenseless butterflies. Me mad? No. But if the popcorn vendor looks at me the wrong way, I'll rip his lungs out.

3. Bargaining (July). OK, there is a God, and if He just lets the Cubs win a World Series, I promise I'll go to church every day, be kind to attorneys and work for a cure for post-nasal drip.

4. Depression (August). The Cubs are 25 games out of first. I don't want to get out of bed. The ivy at Wrigley is poison, all games should be played under the cover of night and cotton candy is the handiwork of the devil. Just to sum up.

5. Acceptance (September). Hello darkness, my old friend. Well, if I'm going to die, I can't think of 3 million paying customers I'd rather die with. I want an umpire to sweep my ashes off home plate. Woo! Woo!

South of town (no, not THEM. We pretend they don't exist.) the Chicago Fire open up on Saturday with the visit of the Hated New England Revolution. Come sing along with Section 8:

To the tune of theme from "Bridge Over the River Kwai"
Twellman has only got one ball,
Johnsons are so very small,
Dempsey is just a pussy,
and Reis has no balls at all!

Sorry for the light posting. Work is murder. We are growing by leaps and bounds. If anyone knows a good IT person, drop me an email. We are hiring.