Hot Dog, We Have A Wiener

After a long, arduous decision process, we here at TCS have sorted through the many impressive entries that were received for our 1st Annual Chicago Sometimes Blog Post Contest.

Let it first be said that every single entry we received was thoroughly enjoyable, and if any of our readers would like to see the following 3 of our favorite entries, either e-mail us at thechicagosometimes@gmail.com, or get in touch with one of our writers in any way you'd like.

Our consolation posts were (in no particular order):

The Deadly Side of Winter Safety by Sean Newlin

Winter Grounds - The Meaning of Life by David Wilson

Christmas Tree Robbery by Maria Pisani

Three great, great posts. Hit us up, and they'll be sent right to your internet-door.

And now the moment you've all been waiting for--I hope you're all imagining the America's Funniest Home Video stage with the spotlights making a venn diagram and the snare drum going off--our winner: Kevin Connors with "'Twas the Night Before Christmas, Chicago."

Enjoy,

TCS

'Twas the Night Before Christmas, Chicago

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

The children were whispering, “I hate Jerry Krause!”

And out on the streets, there wasn’t a scare

‘Cept for Pat Kane who screams, “I paid the fare!”

But back home we wonder what could possibly go wrong

Then we realized who sings this song

Some country artist, or maybe two, or three

Either way, I wouldn’t go see them, not even for free

Finally you decide that it’s time for bed

"Jesus, this scotch is hurting my head"

The house is all set, waiting for St. Nick

But it doesn’t matter ‘cause this Bears team makes you sick

As your head hits the pillow, you sigh with some grief

This Jerry Angelo, he’s quite the thief

But all of a sudden, you hear a crash up above!

You jump to your feet, like it’s your first love

You sprint out the house and look to the sky

And ask yourself, "Who is that guy?"

It looks like some French dude from the IOC

Enraged you yell “Daley and Chicago will shit on your city!”

He scampers away, attempting to hide

But you know he’ll get caught, out on the west side

Back in your bed, you begin to dream

It's the 1990's, and oh what a Bulls team!

"On, Michael! On, Scottie, On Dennis and Toni!"

"And Luc! And Ron! And Phil ain't no phony!"

The night trickles on as you catch some rest

All curled up, in your very own nest

Off in the distance, the skyline glows with pride

Somewhere there’s Matt Forte, shuffling side to side

And then again you wake to a clatter

You run downstairs, not knowing the matter

And there you see him, dusting off his shoe

“Oh my, Santa, is that really you?”

His suit, his beard, they do not seem fake

Damnit, why’d I eat the cookies? What a mistake!

“Yes, son, and I’m happy to say that you made the list

I am here tonight to grant your Christmas wish”

“But Santa," you say, "how could you know?

This city’s sports pain is much more than just show”

“Don’t worry young lad, I know you’re all tired

That’s why tomorrow Lovie AND Vinny'll be fired!”

With that he stood and returned to his sleigh

And then he and his reindeer went on their way

But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

MERRY CHRISTMAS, CHICAGO…WE DESERVE IT.

Kevin Connors

OH p.s. Tom Glass submitted a ridiculously awesome banner that we will be switching to in the new year. It is a sick work of art that will become an everyday part of the blog.

A Tip For Everyone

Just a heads up folks, this post is not about Michael Jackson. It’s not about his singing, his dancing, or his rocky road (ice cream method) with children. This post is about something that I’ve had it up to internet-here with.

There’s been an ever increasing trend among every single person I know to start becoming awful at taking compliments, and it’s manifesting itself in the worst god damn way. What’s troubling about this, is that most of you know me to be your future angry-man-in-hover-rocking-chair yelling at children about how things were “in my day, you lousy ingrates,” which is fine, because that’s exactly how I’ve tried to fashion the events in my life leading up to that glorious moment. So if I give you a compliment, or make a comment in regards to something you’ve accomplished, just tip your hat to me and say “why thank you, oh kind sir.”

Do not reply in the following manner. Don’t look down and to your left, slightly furrow your brow, lift one side of your mouth, wait 2 seconds, and say in the most dickway possible “…Not really.”

Hey asshole, I’m being nice! I even bought you the hat so you could tip it at me! You never once said thank you, you son of a bitch.

Perfect example. A buddy of mine, who will soon hereafter figure out I’m speaking of him, (yes Ryan), and proceed to bitch at me until eventually working his go to move of “you know what? Tapan? You know what?” told me a story. So one long, very fucking uneventful tale later, the man lets me know that he made one hell of a drive in order to go see this fine lookin’ miss thang. Upon hearing that, I replied in a pride-filled voice by saying, “Damn dude, nice, that’s one hell of a drive.” And that little slut not-really’d me.

What does that accomplish? Not-really’ers of the world, you’re actually asking people to apologize for a compliment? Motherfuckers what the fuck?

On that note I make a plea to all of you. End this madness. Too many people are getting AIDS from your attitude, and really, no one wants AIDS from your attitude. At least the unprotected sex has it’s momentary

pleasure, you’re just rubbing people the wrong way.

So tomorrow when you wake up and hear a compliment, look that person right in the eyes and do the hat tip. Not wearing a hat? Feel free to dig through your neighborhood lost and found, you’d be amazed at the number of “repeat-threepeat” hats people have had the audacity to lose over the last 11 years.

Until next tim…. Oh actually.

For those of you wondering why this post took so long, it’s because Mike Bogart is a selfish man that ignores you folks, and would sooner burn down an orphanage than meet a blog deadline. God, what an asshole.

And now, until next time b’s and g’s (you can figure out which letter is male and which one is female on your own time, it’ll be a fun little game). ,

Tapan Jones