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The [Wednesday] Papers

Heading over to my Bucktown timeshare today for another Weekend at Benny's.

For those not in-the-know, that means I'm pet-sitting the World's Greatest Cat again at the condo he shares with my friend Dr. Nick and his lovely wife, Julie. I get to "share" it a few times a year and watch over Benny when Nick and Julie travel. It's like Uber for extremely part-time, exclusive cat-sitters with one client who is actually a friend who leaves beer in the fridge for me.

Now, I'm not really a pet person. And I'm definitely not one of Crazy Cat People who basically own the Internet. But Benny is a real piece of work.



I'll be there through Sunday morning. You can still reach me all the usual ways, it's just one neighborhood over!


I'll still post to the site while I'm in Bucktown, and I did make a couple late posts yesterday I will point you to for now:

Obama Library Already Displacing Residents
Guess who's already raising rents $200 a month, for starters?


The Political Odds
Updated to reflect recent developments.


This just in from the departing Dr. Nick: "Picked up some Old Style Talls for you."

This is my vacation, folks! Spring Break 2018!


Why "Dr. Nick?"

Well, one time back in the day I discovered some weird red markings on my side. It wasn't a rash, but it covered a pretty large area. It sort of looked like I had fallen asleep on a grill. So naturally I went to the bar - and by "the bar" I mean the Beachwood Inn, because what other bar is there or has there ever been, really - for a diagnosis, and my pal Nick delivered without wavering an inch: "Shingles."

I mean, Nick was adamant. He knew. He'd had it. There was no doubt in his mind.

The next day I went to my doctor for a second opinion, and to get whatever treatment was required. My doctor is a master diagnostician, by the way. I mean, you can say "Hi Doc!" and he knows what you have immediately. He's that good.

Me: So, I know you hate to hear this as much as you hate to hear that I looked up my symptoms on the Internet, but my friend at the bar diagnosed me with something last night and I thought I'd come to you for a second opinion.

Doc: You don't have shingles.

Me, astonished: How did you know he said shingles?

Doc: Because that's what everyone says.


My doctor took a look at my side and said it looked like I had brushed up or leaned against something that was causing irritation - not poison ivy, per se, but something like that, be it plant or industrial toxin.

I vaguely recall possibly being prescribed some sort of cream but I'm not totally sure of that; I might have actually had to do nothing but let it go away. Which it did after a few days.

But ever since, my buddy's been "Dr. Nick" to me.


By the way, Nick is also the King of Airport Beer. He's traveled quite a bit over the years and always posts to Facebook what he's trying at the airport bar. I've encouraged him for years to make a coffee table book out of those posts, but so far to no avail. Maybe Beachwood Media will self-publish that project. Anyone wanna give me a hand?


Nick is also from Kansas, so he's really excited about the Final Four. Big Royals fan, too.


Have a great trip, Nick and Julie (and relatively new son Dimitry, whom I assume is going with!).


Comments welcome.


Posted on March 28, 2018

MUSIC - Chief Keef Changed The Industry.
TV - Vizio's Best Product Is You.
POLITICS - UIC: Soda Taxes Work.
SPORTS - More McCaskey Malpractice.

BOOKS - All About Poop.


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