Stuck in the Middle With...me?

I had no idea the block-programming I encountered via my cable provider would one day double as a weather model. If I had, I might not have fired them. Alas, AT&T bills escalate like Illinois property taxes, putting the kabosh on that teachable moment.

But even minus the ongoing example their lesson remains.

Last winter gave all appearances of being a mild affair, with precious little of the white stuff falling through the twenty-fourth of January. In my naivete I even began to entertain thoughts of green grass and soft breezes. Leaves on trees. Songbirds.

But the same block-programming which had gifted me with days full of That '70s Show and Wicked Tuna and the always-delightful Housewives franchise asserted itself in a new arena—weather. The one-flavor-at-a-time aesthetic was about to deliver a punishing new blow.

It snowed. Then it snowed some more. And then it snowed still-more. A forty-three year-old record for consecutive days of measurable snowfall nearly fell as well, but was merely tied. Long story short, we received a winter's worth of snow in a single month.

The concentration was unprecedented.

Then spring arrived. And for the first time since 2017, May didn't generate record amounts of rain. But relief is discouraged in Illinois, and by June my portion of the state was immersed in a drought.

Beige grass, trees stressed and shedding leaves—the whole deal.

But last Wednesday it finally rained. Then it rained on Thursday. And on Friday. Saturday. Monday. Tuesday. And is forecast for today as well. (Though appropriately gloomy, Sunday was somehow exempted.)

It seems even the Cubs, in a fresh take on the eternal nature or nurture question, have adopted the dynamic.

They sucked in April, setting franchise records for hitting futility. And when you consider the team began play in 1876 in the so-called “deadball” era, well, it appeared the deadball era wasn't quite as dead as we thought.

They got their groove on in May, going 19 and 8 and outscored the opposition 131 to 85—a margin of nearly two runs a game. Oh my god! These guys are the 1939 Yankees reincarnated!

Ugh-huh. Sure.

June has seen a return to April's form (if their play can even be dignified by such a term), as they have gone 12 and 15 and averaged a meager 3.3 runs per game, which is even worse than April's showing.

It has grown exponentially worse since the fourteenth. From that point, the Cubs have terrorized Major League Baseball, winning 4 of their last 15 and crossing home plate 28 times in those 15 games. (If you're as mathematically-gifted as I, you'll notice that isn't even two runs a game.)

It is wearying. Sorry, Mr. Hoyer.

Stir in lingering pandemic fatigue, inflation, shortages, random and widespread gun violence and our simmering political and societal divides and life feels pretty damn weird. Out of control. Like a frozen pizza that goes from undercooked to burnt in milliseconds. 

What the _____? Are extremes the new normal?

It must now be asked: Could the neurological condition known as bi-polar actually be a lifestyle?

Rot Never Sleeps

Newspapers all over the country are in trouble. In our slavish desire for speed, we consume news via social media. Not because it's more in-depth or more accurate, but because it's faster.

It's also unvetted. Unconsidered. Full of errors. And reliant on questionable sources. But yes, it is faster.

Playing the dragging-my-heels Luddite while the rest of the world rockets off into supersonic cyberspace is an act fraught with futility. I am not going to change a thing. The world is going to do what the world is going to do.

Sigh.

Along with internal combustion engines, record stores, grilling with charcoal, movie theaters and book stores, newspapers face a questionable future. Those that haven't already merged or consolidated are being devoured by what I like to refer to as vulture capitalists.

Like the Chicago Tribune, currently being ingested by Alden Global Capital.

Armed with vast reserves of cash, funds like Alden swoop in, buy a controlling interest and proceed to dismantle its target like car thieves in a chop shop. They sell off the components with the expectation the ala carte sale will generate more revenue than a bundled one.

It its wake are the employees—usually left unemployed with little in the way of severance or pensions. 

I'm no businessman, but I believe had the Tribune not gone public and consequently made itself vulnerable to this parasite, it would have survived. It was a formidable newspaper with a devoted readership.

Not so long ago, it would take me a morning and a good part of the afternoon to plow through the Sunday edition. It was stuffed with local and international news of every stripe, reported by a robust network of bureaus and correspondents stationed all over the world.

Music, art, film, books, sports, politics, transportation, business and any kind of conceivable feature all received similar attention. It was the world at your fingertips, strained through a now-irrelevant filter of fact-checking and confirmation.

An old saw of journalism went “If your mother says she loves you, check it out.” You know—like it was going to be on Fox News or social media or something. Newspapers like the Tribune were a gathering place, a shared link between people. They provided a sense of community.

In their place is a hopelessly fragmented media landscape playing to impossibly divergent interests. We have retreated into hyper-demographic social media bubbles which insist anyone who doesn't fit the profile is not to be trusted.

To many of you I'm just a tiresome old man bemoaning the loss of another cultural touchstone. But I'm thinking it's highly probable I'm correct about the coarse and merciless future we're building, and what role this event plays in it. 

So. John Kass, Dahleen Glanton, Heidi Stevens, Mary Schmich and Eric Zorn are gone. Alden Global Capital has paid them to go away. On the surface? A dent in a local newspaper's appeal. But taking the longer view, it is another step forward in our inevitable construction of the Tower of Babel.

It is so very, very sad. But at least Alden Global Capital will get rich(er). 

And isn't that we're all about?

Oi Vey!

Deeply involved in cataloging my enormous collection of vinyl, cassettes and compact disc for possible sale, I have been negligent in posting to my blog, The Square Peg.

To those who make it a habit to stop by, please accept my apologies. Your readership is deeply appreciated and I hope The Square Peg has sparked a smile, a laugh or even the comfort of a shared thought or opinion.

I will return to regular posting as soon as I am able.

Until then, let me extend belated birthday greetings to my favorite living rhythm and blues singer, Eddie Levert of the O'Jays.

The esteemed Mr. Levert turned 79 yesterday.

Roger Benitez

Like you, my sleep is often compromised by fears that America's law-abiding gun owners are having their right to bear arms thoughtlessly and needlessly trampled upon by overcautious state legislatures who persist in the idea that the way to combat America's gun violence epidemic is to limit their availability.

That's just silly, right?

But thanks to the actions of the great and good Roger Benitez (a U.S. District Judge in San Diego), I might sleep a little better tonight.

You see, Benitez overturned a thirty year-old ban on assault weapons in California, meaning that the sad, the angry and the fearful who must feather their nests with as many guns as they are capable of purchasing will be able to do so.

Capriciously likening assault weapons to Swiss army knives, Benitez writes “...the popular AR-15 rifle is a perfect combination of home defense weapon and homeland defense equipment. Good for both home and battle.”

Exactly what battle are you referring to, Rog? The one right-wing militias collectively masturbate over in which they slaughter any demographic not male, white and Republican?

(It should be noted, gentlemen, that Ann Colter, Kellyanne Conway and Laura Ingraham will be unavailable for repopulation efforts owing to their age.)

You don't have to listen very hard to hear echoes of the former President's speech from January 6^th, do you? It's another lightly-coded reference to destroying a democracy Republicans have no chance of competing in and replacing it with a totalitarian dictatorship as quickly as possible.

Add to it the fact his ruling was issued on National Gun Violence Awareness Day and the whole thing really begins to smell. You also don't have to listen very hard to hear the “Nyah nyah!” emanating from the mouths of oppressed California gun-owners, either.

Benitez lapses into de-rigueur conservative criticism, stating that the ban has not eliminated mass shootings nor prevented attacks on law enforcement officers. I'm not sure the latter was the reason for enacting it, but I'm positive that making it harder for assault weapons to find their way into human hands was at the ban's heart.

And we won't ever know how many assault weapons didn't find homes because of it, will we?

Judge? Let me explain something to you: the ban is like the motion sensor in your backyard or the dead bolt lock on your front door. Neither is guaranteed to prevent a break-in or theft, but to deter would-be criminals. Which is why they're called deterrents.

Look at it this way: locked cars and locked homes are routinely broken into. Given locks failure at eliminating property crime, should we remove them?

Of course not.

Automotive brakes (even those enhanced with ABS) have likewise failed to eliminate vehicular collisions. Do we call them failures too, throw up our hands and say to hell with them?

Of course not.

Because we will never know how many incidents didn't happen because of their presence.

(OMG. Am I really employing reason to address a (presumed) Republican? And does that mean I get 'idiot' tattooed on my forehead?)

Like a coal mine fire, it's easy to overlook the still-simmering rage Republicans harbor over their “lost” election. (If Democrats are as good at stealing elections as Republicans are at gerrymandering and button-pushing, why didn't Democrats steal the House and Senate, as well?)

Given to herd behavior, the Republican electorate surrenders to groupthink even faster than they absorb the latest round of propaganda splashed all over Fox News. Their craven puppetmasters are a cornered felon, who understand it's either kill or die. Prison is not an option.

I once yearned for post-pandemic relief, yet it seems the pandemic and its stressors are fated to give way to a struggle between those who wish to preserve democracy and those who wish to crush it.

I'm so glad I'm not twenty-one.

Charlie's Good Tonight, Innit He?

Happy Birthday, Charlie.

Thanks for all those drum licks. They keep me in time.

You kick my butt like Earl Palmer.

 (For the rest of you, hoping the source of this post's title is common knowledge.)

Should We Be Bullish on Ex-Bulls?

Not so long ago, sportswriters used the number of former Chicago Cubs on a major league baseball roster to determine that team's success in the post-season. The more exes there were, the greater the probability the team would fail.

With the NBA playoffs upon us, I'm wondering how that affects professional basketball teams with former members of the Chicago Bulls in their lockerooms.

It was a decade ago that the Bulls seemed on the verge of championship contention. Anchored by nascent superstar Derrick Rose, they possessed all the ingredients for a long run of success. But recurrent injuries to Rose's knees derailed what would have been a brilliant NBA career, and with it the aspirations of the entire roster.

Center Joakim Noah is retired, as are forwards Carlos Boozer and Luol Deng. But a smattering of the roster (including coach Tom Thibodeau) remains active. As do several other former Bulls.

So you have to wonder how the resurgent Atlanta Hawks (with Kris Dunn), Washington Wizards (with Robin Lopez and Daniel Gafford) and New York Knicks (with Rose, Taj Gibson and coach Thibodeau) will fare.

Ditto the Miami Heat, featuring built-in-Chicago superstar Jimmy Butler and fresh off an appearance in last year's NBA Finals. And we shouldn't forget the Milwaukee Bucks and Chicago refugee Bobby Portis.

So despite this season's startling success, does the fact the roster carries three ex-Bulls mean that Knicks' fans should be waving the white flag? Is their series with the Hawks (with only a lone Bull) a foregone conclusion?

And what of the Wizards? With zero ex-Bulls on the Philadelphia 76er roster, is their stirring late-season comeback and return to the post-season doomed to failure?

And how will things shake-out between Miami and Milwaukee? With a single ex-Bull populating each roster, do they negate each other, leaving their teams to fight it out on basis of merit?

With a fourth consecutive losing season, one over-before-it-began playoff appearance in their last six and a desultory rebuild mired in mud despite a new GM and a new coach, it's a bit disconcerting to see so many ex-Bulls thriving in new environments.

As fans do, I grew very attached to the teams coached by Thibodeau and Scott Skiles. Those rosters were gritty and talented. They played defense. Most importantly, they complemented each other.

It was tough to see them so rarely move beyond the first round.

I'm happy for Thibodeau's success, even if he's coaching my second least-favorite team in the NBA. The same goes for Rose, forced to consume a good deal of humble pie since the sparkling first act of his NBA career.

But I'm left wondering why the Bulls remain with an uneven, disjointed roster after so many other teams (Phoenix, Denver, Utah, Atlanta and those Knicks) have risen to contention in the same time frame.

If I even needed the impetus, I appreciate the Jordan-era dynasty anew.

Taking Wing(s)

It was never the coolest thing on TV. I mean, one of its own leads bemoaned the show's lack of critical and popular cache. There weren't any Emmy winners, or even nominees. But it was reliably funny. And its production team did an amazing job of developing and integrating new characters when circumstances demanded them.

The show? Wings. And for seven and-a-half seasons it was NBC's indefatigable ratings warhorse. True, it never captured the public imagination to the degree that Seinfeld or Friends did, but Wings was a top thirty stalwart for the vast portion of its existence.

Thirty years after its debut, writing an appreciation does not require marveling at its ability to be a lowest common denominator-styled ratings windfall. That's because three-decades later, trading in a genre that ages faster than unrefrigerated milk, Wings is still funny.

The band of imperfect and occasionally forlorn characters who populated Nantucket's fictional airport were eccentric, but eminently human. Driven by disparate agendas, there was never any shortage of conflict. But when circumstances demanded it, their humanity inevitably came to the fore.

Even if the humanity could be grudging, it was humanity nonetheless. It more or less mirrored the country it played to. But the real genius of Wings is that it never beat you over the head with a message. When there was one, it was tucked in between the sniping and the competition and the calculation.

Joe, Brian, Helen, Fay, Roy, Antonio, Lowell, Casey and Alex were just folk. People trying to make it to next week without declaring bankruptcy, losing their faith or acknowledging the fact it often seemed they might die alone.

And perhaps that human-scale sense of normalcy it what makes Wings so watchable today. There were no blood feuds, winner-take-all struggles for inheritances and no heartless, coldblooded competition for a seat on some corporate board.

It was Joe and Brian keeping Sandpiper, their single-airplane airline, afloat. And with it, the economic sustenance of its thrice-widowed ticket agent Fay and mechanic-savant Lowell.

It was the Italian-immigrant cab driver Antonio making ends meet, both financially and emotionally, no matter how strenuously those ends resisted.

It was Helen keeping her lunch counter (and her heart) open as she fought to carve out a career in music while keeping an eye out for Mr. Right.

And while Roy, who headed Sandpiper's lone competitor, appeared on solid financial ground, he fought his worst instincts as he attempted to replace the one true love of his life—ex-wife Sylvia.

In their writing, Wing's creators fashioned characters we could relate to and empathize with. We laughed with them at least as often as we laughed at them. We cared.

Actors come and actors go, but the best addition to Wings (aside from Tony Shalhoub, whose Antonio became a regular in season three) was Amy Yasbeck, who played Casey beginning with season six.

Helen's beautiful-but-snobbish older sister, unceremoniously dumped by a west coast millionaire, returned to Nantucket with her tail between her legs. Left penniless and with no discernible job skills, she was forced to room first with with Helen and then brother-in-law Brian as she struggled to find a foothold in her strange, new world.

Her arrival brought a fresh infusion of energy, something that Farrah Forke, in her role as Brian's acerbic girlfriend Alex, never quite managed. (Check the episode 'Nuptials Off'—season 6, episode 23—for proof.)

Even minus the cerebrally off-kilter performances of Thomas Haden Church as Lowell, Wings was able to zoom off into the sunset on a high note. And as a fan, that had to make you happy.

So to David Angell, Peter Casey, David Lee, Tim Daly, Steven Webber, Crystal Bernard, Thomas Haden Church, David Schramm, Rebecca Shull, Tony Shalhoub, Farrah Forke and Amy Yasbeck, thank you for making me laugh then.

And thank you for making me laugh now.

What follows are my highly-subjective and totally unscientific nominees for the ten best episodes of Wings ever:

The Customer's Usually Right (4)

Nuptials Off (6)

Et Tu, Antonio? (6)

Say Uncle Carlton (5)

Four Dates That Will Live in Infamy (3)

Terminal Jealousy (5)

She's Baaack (6)

The Big Sleep (7)

Miss Jenkins (6)

Marriage, Italian Style (3)

And some honorable mentions:

One Flew Over the Cooper's Nest (7)

When a Man Loves a Donut (7)

Noses Off (4)

2 Good 2 B 4 Gotten (5)

Hey Nineteen (5)

The Lyin' King (7)

Dreamgirl (8)

So Long, Frank Lloyd Wrong (7)

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Policewoman Scorned (2)

The Puppetmaster (2)