A new section of The Brew, Specialty Brews, will be featuring more creative pieces. I posted new author Travis Theiszen's poem "The Southern Inquisition" on The Brew.
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Burger wars and name calling: Hardee's upset over Jack In The Box accusation (or misspelling) that their burgers are made from 'anus' (rather than angus) meat.
An ice cream truck that got sold some herbal ice cream. I'm a little upset because I blogged about this years ago while living in Chicago. I'm suing for patent issues.
Massachusetts short, fat people to get more rights. For real.
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I visited Christ Church of Plano last night. I was moved and will probably go back to their Saturday night service again sometime.
The church recently broke away from it's Episcopal connections and runs like an independent Bible church, though they are Anglican (as far as a person who doesn't go there and has only heard secondhand about their history can know).
During the traditional liturgy service, they sang "Shine, Jesus Shine". This was a trip. That song brings back so many adolescent nights spent sitting on dirty logs around a campfire, watching sparks fly up into the air. "Shine" was always sung, sticks were always thrown into the fire in dedication.
But the use of "Shine" in a liturgy is illustrative of the unique character of the church, I hear. The officient made it all connect to Day of Pentecost (which is today, I think, in the church calendar) somehow and it worked into the liturgy pretty well.
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The Dump....
So I always end up finding lots of interesting crap while I'm online. Here's some of the more stand-out stories.
A Caffeinated Donut.
Time magazine trying to be clever with Albert Mohler when he is diagnosed with cancer.
Rueters reports on a mental health bill working through congress that would make insurance companies add coverage for mental health issues.
Two clowns (no joke) shot dead at a circus in Columbia.
Borat a human rights victim?
The Worst of the Worst Movie Awards on Rotten Tomatoes.
Obama as Christ?
This last one brought back memories for me. A videographer from San Francisco is reportedly 'soon to be released' after being jailed for almost a year on charges of contempt for not releasing a video of a San Fran cop getting injured during an Anarchist Action rally. The video, though long, shows an anarchist's rally in San Fran. The section in question comes towards the end, when a cop has to subdue a protester and someone thrusts what looks like a pole at the officer.
The video brought back memories for me of when I covered a huge anti-war rally in Chicago. This video of the San Fran equivalent is interesting to watch if you've never experienced a protest rally.
Enjoy.
A Caffeinated Donut.
Time magazine trying to be clever with Albert Mohler when he is diagnosed with cancer.
Rueters reports on a mental health bill working through congress that would make insurance companies add coverage for mental health issues.
Two clowns (no joke) shot dead at a circus in Columbia.
Borat a human rights victim?
The Worst of the Worst Movie Awards on Rotten Tomatoes.
Obama as Christ?
This last one brought back memories for me. A videographer from San Francisco is reportedly 'soon to be released' after being jailed for almost a year on charges of contempt for not releasing a video of a San Fran cop getting injured during an Anarchist Action rally. The video, though long, shows an anarchist's rally in San Fran. The section in question comes towards the end, when a cop has to subdue a protester and someone thrusts what looks like a pole at the officer.
The video brought back memories for me of when I covered a huge anti-war rally in Chicago. This video of the San Fran equivalent is interesting to watch if you've never experienced a protest rally.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Kierkegaard; Depression Series # 8 - Giving Up on Answers...
Kierkegaard on obedience:
"Oh God, teach me so deeply to understand myself that I may understand how utterly impossible it is to be satisfied with the mere fact that I am master of my own destiny, and that there is no satisfaction and joy and happiness for a person except obedience."
On Passion:
"Longing is the umbilical cord of the higher life."
"It is a great question whether those whom God cannot make mad have ever really existed for God."
"Authentic religion has to do with passion, with having passion. Sadly, there are thousands who take a little something out of religion, and then dispassionately "have religion."
- All quotes taken from Provocations ( a best of collection of Kierkegaard's spiritual writings.
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Depression Series # 8
Giving Up On Answers And Suspending Judgment
I finished God in the Dark by Os Guiness this week and was humbled and changed. Reading Guiness’ answer to the question of ‘Why, O Lord?’ put something into words that I had been struggling with for a while. It was an idea that helped me deal with the suicide of a friend a year and a half ago.
Clark Stacy killed himself in March of ’05 while I was still a crime reporter in Chicago. Two years prior at Moody, I was his resident assistant but kept up with him after I graduated. I was naturally shocked when I heard the news on my way to work the overnight shift.
During a lull around 2 a.m., I did what I could to corroborate the news. I found online the small newspaper in Tennessee that ran his obituary the day after the suicide. I instantly thought of what I could do to find out more. I could look up the local medical examiner, hospital, or sheriff’s office. A friend had called me to fill me in but any news story had to be corroborated. I had to get the facts myself.
An hour later, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get any info. Why would anyone from small-town Tennessee talk to some small newswire reporter from Chicago? And if this was a suicide, no one would be talking about it anyway. I considered all the other roadblocks to getting information. I also considered my need to direct a sole reporter to best cover the city for the next 7 hours.
I stopped trying to find answers through reportorial means. Instead, for about two months I turned to the community that he and I used to be part of: Moody Bible Institute. I went to a sort of memorial chapel, talked to his friends still there and then listened to some crazy drama involving professors at MBI and Clark’s parents.
The man who counseled Clark at MBI was just as dumbfounded. I didn’t ask, but the counselor gave me his professional opinion (which I wasn’t going to ask about for obvious reasons). I felt privileged that he told me what he did but I still couldn’t figure out why it all happened.
More months went by and I gave up trying to find answers. My anger burned out and I knew that I would never have the answer that I wanted. I was just going to have to accept that and somewhere in the back of my head, try to accept that God was all that I was taught he was.
And then comes Guiness to tell me this:
“It is difficult to hold an impersonal universe personally responsible, and nothing less than personal responsibility will do. The only remaining option is to call God to the bar and charge him with the injustice of suffering that is otherwise inexplicable. Through doubt we can get even with God.”
So where does that leave me? What am I to do? Believe that God is good?
Guiness told me that “To suspend judgement on why something is happening is not the same as denying that something is happening. The former is faith, the latter is repression, which should have no part in the Christian faith.”
His idea is that you don’t know why but you can know why you trust God who knows why. You suspend judgment of God who knows why.
Guiness concludes by stating that all doubts about the Father are silenced in the Son, to which no suffering can be compared.
There’s not much to say after that.
"Oh God, teach me so deeply to understand myself that I may understand how utterly impossible it is to be satisfied with the mere fact that I am master of my own destiny, and that there is no satisfaction and joy and happiness for a person except obedience."
On Passion:
"Longing is the umbilical cord of the higher life."
"It is a great question whether those whom God cannot make mad have ever really existed for God."
"Authentic religion has to do with passion, with having passion. Sadly, there are thousands who take a little something out of religion, and then dispassionately "have religion."
- All quotes taken from Provocations ( a best of collection of Kierkegaard's spiritual writings.
-----------------------
Depression Series # 8
Giving Up On Answers And Suspending Judgment
I finished God in the Dark by Os Guiness this week and was humbled and changed. Reading Guiness’ answer to the question of ‘Why, O Lord?’ put something into words that I had been struggling with for a while. It was an idea that helped me deal with the suicide of a friend a year and a half ago.
Clark Stacy killed himself in March of ’05 while I was still a crime reporter in Chicago. Two years prior at Moody, I was his resident assistant but kept up with him after I graduated. I was naturally shocked when I heard the news on my way to work the overnight shift.
During a lull around 2 a.m., I did what I could to corroborate the news. I found online the small newspaper in Tennessee that ran his obituary the day after the suicide. I instantly thought of what I could do to find out more. I could look up the local medical examiner, hospital, or sheriff’s office. A friend had called me to fill me in but any news story had to be corroborated. I had to get the facts myself.
An hour later, I realized that I wouldn’t be able to get any info. Why would anyone from small-town Tennessee talk to some small newswire reporter from Chicago? And if this was a suicide, no one would be talking about it anyway. I considered all the other roadblocks to getting information. I also considered my need to direct a sole reporter to best cover the city for the next 7 hours.
I stopped trying to find answers through reportorial means. Instead, for about two months I turned to the community that he and I used to be part of: Moody Bible Institute. I went to a sort of memorial chapel, talked to his friends still there and then listened to some crazy drama involving professors at MBI and Clark’s parents.
The man who counseled Clark at MBI was just as dumbfounded. I didn’t ask, but the counselor gave me his professional opinion (which I wasn’t going to ask about for obvious reasons). I felt privileged that he told me what he did but I still couldn’t figure out why it all happened.
More months went by and I gave up trying to find answers. My anger burned out and I knew that I would never have the answer that I wanted. I was just going to have to accept that and somewhere in the back of my head, try to accept that God was all that I was taught he was.
And then comes Guiness to tell me this:
“It is difficult to hold an impersonal universe personally responsible, and nothing less than personal responsibility will do. The only remaining option is to call God to the bar and charge him with the injustice of suffering that is otherwise inexplicable. Through doubt we can get even with God.”
So where does that leave me? What am I to do? Believe that God is good?
Guiness told me that “To suspend judgement on why something is happening is not the same as denying that something is happening. The former is faith, the latter is repression, which should have no part in the Christian faith.”
His idea is that you don’t know why but you can know why you trust God who knows why. You suspend judgment of God who knows why.
Guiness concludes by stating that all doubts about the Father are silenced in the Son, to which no suffering can be compared.
There’s not much to say after that.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Depression Series # 6 - Adaptation
Here's something that is kind of about depression but is more about adaptation. I wrote this last winter while still in Chicago.
Adaptation
“The high for today will be about 42 degrees. It’s currently 41 and you’re listening to…” broadcast the radio station at around 4:15 a.m a few days ago. This was the beginning of January for Chicagoans; a mild streak of weather in what can often be the harshest season for this Midwest giant of a city. Business this week was back to booming at the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain nameless. More people were out and braving the Icelandic 40 degree temperatures and even buying frozen and iced drinks (much to the chagrin of my co-workers). People were enjoying the atypical weather.
But not two weeks earlier the city was crippled during the evening rush hour by a furious snow storm that unceremoniously dumped at least 8 inches of powder in about four hours. From about 4 p.m. on, blustery winds and blinding snow delayed commuters on their way home. Some driving home on the Eisenhower Expressway reported a four-hour commute that night. I drove downtown to pick up something from my store that night but ended up staying downtown because of the traffic and storm.
Like all who live in this great city, I had to adapt and change my plans for that night. I had planned on going back to my apartment on the northwest side and accomplishing some things that night. But an estimated three-hour tour home on Lake Shore Drive convinced me to stick it out where I was. So I decided to call some friends who were close by and catch a movie. It’s not like I would be going anywhere soon so I adapted to the situation.
Adaptation seems essential to anyone’s life, since nothing ever goes as planned (And even if it does, one must still adapt to things going better than planned). Your checking account is overdrawn; you have to adjust your spending and finagle a plan to correct your account. You figure out that the profession you studied in school is not necessarily what you can succeed at doing. God deals you some kind of malady that cripples your body, mind or confidence. So what do you do? You learn to adapt.
Why? I adapt because I’ve seen what happens to those who can’t. Some revert back to some remedial stage of life and take some dead end job that has no hint of challenging them. Or they give up on using the gifts that God has endowed them with and accept something lesser. Or sometimes they feel it better to take their own life. And while I can understand how someone could get to such a place in life, I am enraged when I see such a situation. I am enraged at God for letting such a thing happen and I am enraged for whatever other reason I can assign for a suicide. Even if I know that these reasons are nothing more than me grasping at straws to try understand something that is incomprehensible.
So many people I know get used to some kind of support system and rely completely on that system, whether they know it or not. And then when they graduate from that stage of life and move out of a certain environment, they feel like they’re drowning because they don’t know how to sustain themselves without that old environment. Sometimes the solution is to just keep treading water. Eventually, the person may be able to see their situation and learn a stroke that will help them to swim on to the next stage of life.
But sometimes the best adaptation to a situation is to stop treading water. Some people need to be brought to the end of their own ability and begin sinking down into the water. Getting to such a point leaves a person one option: hope that something outside of themselves can help save their life. As they sink further under the surface and the water seems to get darker, a person can look to God and pray for some miracle. And then the person begins to feel a strange sensation on the sides of their neck, much like Harry Potter while in an underwater game in the most current installment of that series.
Something begins growing out of their neck and they can’t help but suck in the water that is pressing all around them. Gills appear on their neck and then they open wide their mouths against all their instincts and fill their lungs with water. They slowly begin sucking in water and their lungs somehow grab the oxygen out of the water and keep it flowing through their veins.
An adaptation has occurred that enables a person to move on with their life to whatever new plans God has for them. They have survived what seemed an impossible situation and are amazed at the way God changed them for this new stage of life.
Adaptation
“The high for today will be about 42 degrees. It’s currently 41 and you’re listening to…” broadcast the radio station at around 4:15 a.m a few days ago. This was the beginning of January for Chicagoans; a mild streak of weather in what can often be the harshest season for this Midwest giant of a city. Business this week was back to booming at the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain nameless. More people were out and braving the Icelandic 40 degree temperatures and even buying frozen and iced drinks (much to the chagrin of my co-workers). People were enjoying the atypical weather.
But not two weeks earlier the city was crippled during the evening rush hour by a furious snow storm that unceremoniously dumped at least 8 inches of powder in about four hours. From about 4 p.m. on, blustery winds and blinding snow delayed commuters on their way home. Some driving home on the Eisenhower Expressway reported a four-hour commute that night. I drove downtown to pick up something from my store that night but ended up staying downtown because of the traffic and storm.
Like all who live in this great city, I had to adapt and change my plans for that night. I had planned on going back to my apartment on the northwest side and accomplishing some things that night. But an estimated three-hour tour home on Lake Shore Drive convinced me to stick it out where I was. So I decided to call some friends who were close by and catch a movie. It’s not like I would be going anywhere soon so I adapted to the situation.
Adaptation seems essential to anyone’s life, since nothing ever goes as planned (And even if it does, one must still adapt to things going better than planned). Your checking account is overdrawn; you have to adjust your spending and finagle a plan to correct your account. You figure out that the profession you studied in school is not necessarily what you can succeed at doing. God deals you some kind of malady that cripples your body, mind or confidence. So what do you do? You learn to adapt.
Why? I adapt because I’ve seen what happens to those who can’t. Some revert back to some remedial stage of life and take some dead end job that has no hint of challenging them. Or they give up on using the gifts that God has endowed them with and accept something lesser. Or sometimes they feel it better to take their own life. And while I can understand how someone could get to such a place in life, I am enraged when I see such a situation. I am enraged at God for letting such a thing happen and I am enraged for whatever other reason I can assign for a suicide. Even if I know that these reasons are nothing more than me grasping at straws to try understand something that is incomprehensible.
So many people I know get used to some kind of support system and rely completely on that system, whether they know it or not. And then when they graduate from that stage of life and move out of a certain environment, they feel like they’re drowning because they don’t know how to sustain themselves without that old environment. Sometimes the solution is to just keep treading water. Eventually, the person may be able to see their situation and learn a stroke that will help them to swim on to the next stage of life.
But sometimes the best adaptation to a situation is to stop treading water. Some people need to be brought to the end of their own ability and begin sinking down into the water. Getting to such a point leaves a person one option: hope that something outside of themselves can help save their life. As they sink further under the surface and the water seems to get darker, a person can look to God and pray for some miracle. And then the person begins to feel a strange sensation on the sides of their neck, much like Harry Potter while in an underwater game in the most current installment of that series.
Something begins growing out of their neck and they can’t help but suck in the water that is pressing all around them. Gills appear on their neck and then they open wide their mouths against all their instincts and fill their lungs with water. They slowly begin sucking in water and their lungs somehow grab the oxygen out of the water and keep it flowing through their veins.
An adaptation has occurred that enables a person to move on with their life to whatever new plans God has for them. They have survived what seemed an impossible situation and are amazed at the way God changed them for this new stage of life.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Guac-queso; New Brew; Chicago v. Dallas
Went to a tex-mex restaurant and had some queso made with quacamole. Holy mole! I can't believe I've never thought of doing this.
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I posted another new author on The Brew. Kennedy Lewis writes with some bite on Truth and Emergents.
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So I started comparing the churches I went to in Chicago and Dallas the other day.
Chicago: Holy Trinity Church(HTC). Dallas: Trinity Fellowship Church(TFC).
HTC: Weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 10 p.m. with monthly take-all tournaments (and 10% of the winnings were given to HTC). I'm still in the hole for $5 there.
TFC: Bi-weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 8 p.m. (has a more 'mature' crowd). When a pastor attends, no one worries about having to tithe if the pastor wins anything.
HTC: A reformed congregation began this church as a plant. Pastors are known for writing children's books, helping with the translation of the ESV, running the Chicago Marathon every year, carrying around a large cigars in their mouths in the church office (but not smoking them).
TFC: Sprang from a Brethren church but has a more evangelical bent. Pastor (the one I've gotten to know) known for brewing meade and other ales at home, taking many others to eat Ethiopian food and getting a celebratory allowance clause added to Dallas Theological Seminary's policy on drinking while on DTS's student council.
It's a pure coincidence that both celebrate the Trinity in their names. I don't always base my church decisions on their ranking of the Trinity, but hey, why knock a good thing?
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I posted another new author on The Brew. Kennedy Lewis writes with some bite on Truth and Emergents.
---------------
So I started comparing the churches I went to in Chicago and Dallas the other day.
Chicago: Holy Trinity Church(HTC). Dallas: Trinity Fellowship Church(TFC).
HTC: Weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 10 p.m. with monthly take-all tournaments (and 10% of the winnings were given to HTC). I'm still in the hole for $5 there.
TFC: Bi-weekly Texas Hold 'Em nights beginning at 8 p.m. (has a more 'mature' crowd). When a pastor attends, no one worries about having to tithe if the pastor wins anything.
HTC: A reformed congregation began this church as a plant. Pastors are known for writing children's books, helping with the translation of the ESV, running the Chicago Marathon every year, carrying around a large cigars in their mouths in the church office (but not smoking them).
TFC: Sprang from a Brethren church but has a more evangelical bent. Pastor (the one I've gotten to know) known for brewing meade and other ales at home, taking many others to eat Ethiopian food and getting a celebratory allowance clause added to Dallas Theological Seminary's policy on drinking while on DTS's student council.
It's a pure coincidence that both celebrate the Trinity in their names. I don't always base my church decisions on their ranking of the Trinity, but hey, why knock a good thing?
Friday, February 16, 2007
Lent is coming up and I'm thinking of giving up TV for that six weeks. I'm weening myself off of it this and next week. So far so good. Instead of TV, I'm getting into writing more and reading more.
I've gotten used to the fact that I won't be able to see all the Lost episodes in order, so giving it up is easier. And Lost is best viewed in weekend-long binges where you watch half of a season in one sitting.
I wrote two devotionals for my church's Lent devotional and I'll post them on the days they were designated for.
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Started reading The Devil In The White City. If anyone else salivates over anything Chicago like I do, this book will surely curb your appetite in a good way. It's a history book of Chicago set around the Columbian Exposition of the late 1800's. Half the book is research in presented in quotations marks but author Erik Larson works the facts in around a storyline following city architect Dan Burham and a serial killer who used the expo to kill scores of women.
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I posted Dan's article on compassion, theology and ambiguity on The Brew today. It's another article that defines potent.
I'm looking for writers who have an interest or opinion on the Emergent Church for the March issue. So far, I've only got one taker, leaving many topics to be covered. To see a full list of topics for March, email me at eric@caffeinatedstudio.com .
I've gotten used to the fact that I won't be able to see all the Lost episodes in order, so giving it up is easier. And Lost is best viewed in weekend-long binges where you watch half of a season in one sitting.
I wrote two devotionals for my church's Lent devotional and I'll post them on the days they were designated for.
--------
Started reading The Devil In The White City. If anyone else salivates over anything Chicago like I do, this book will surely curb your appetite in a good way. It's a history book of Chicago set around the Columbian Exposition of the late 1800's. Half the book is research in presented in quotations marks but author Erik Larson works the facts in around a storyline following city architect Dan Burham and a serial killer who used the expo to kill scores of women.
---------------------
I posted Dan's article on compassion, theology and ambiguity on The Brew today. It's another article that defines potent.
I'm looking for writers who have an interest or opinion on the Emergent Church for the March issue. So far, I've only got one taker, leaving many topics to be covered. To see a full list of topics for March, email me at eric@caffeinatedstudio.com .
Monday, February 12, 2007
Love and Chicago-Style in Dallas
In honor of Valentines's Day this week, The Brew is feature a three articles all on the subject of love, with the usual Brew style. First up is a penetrating look at abuse of the word love by Lonnie. Watch later this week for a social experiment involving co-workers at an online dating site and for finding where theology, love and ambiguity come together.
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Found a Chicago-style pizza place in Dallas. Chicago Rick's has a pretty decent pie. It's almost a light version of the real thing, with about half the crust and half the cheese, but still made upside down as it should be. I would've thought that Texans would've wanted a bigger, better, more gluttonous version of Chicago-style, but it seems that they can't even handle the real thing. So chalk one up for ol' Chi-town.
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The coffee-chain-that-shall-eternally-remain-nameless now only serves trans-fat free pastries. Including the silly cupcakes which are more trouble than they are worth, packaging-wise.
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Watched the painfully funny Series 2 of the Office this week. Sometimes the British-isms still needed translation but the awkwardness never does.
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Found a Chicago-style pizza place in Dallas. Chicago Rick's has a pretty decent pie. It's almost a light version of the real thing, with about half the crust and half the cheese, but still made upside down as it should be. I would've thought that Texans would've wanted a bigger, better, more gluttonous version of Chicago-style, but it seems that they can't even handle the real thing. So chalk one up for ol' Chi-town.
---------
The coffee-chain-that-shall-eternally-remain-nameless now only serves trans-fat free pastries. Including the silly cupcakes which are more trouble than they are worth, packaging-wise.
----------
Watched the painfully funny Series 2 of the Office this week. Sometimes the British-isms still needed translation but the awkwardness never does.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Headline News
The Brew received around 11,400 page views in January, with 1,791 unique visitors. That's freakin' awesome. Word of mouth is picking up steam. If you like The Brew, join the blogring (xanga) or group (MySpace or Facebook) so others can hear about it. (That's my persuasive speech to ask you guys to help advertise The Brew for free.)
I posted this month's editorial on Ambiguity on The Brew. There's lot's of good stuff to come. An essay on The Man Who Was Thursday; confidence in ambiguity in on online dating site; Word abuse and the word 'love' becoming ambiguous; An Exercise in Ambiguity; Finding God in the Ambiguous Future; unclear occupation expectations for young single people in Evangelicalism. And more to come as well. If interested in writing, email eric@caffeinatedstudio.com.
I'm known at my church as 'that single guy from Chicago' to a growing number of people I have never met. The reason this is remarkable is because there are no other people from Chicago there.
Ha! I wish. A single guy at my small Dallas church is more the oddity than someone being from Chicago. I've fielded many a question like, "So what do you think about a singles ministry?"
A friend got me the first six Season 3 episodes of Lost, which I missed. I'm caught up now, both story-wise and it's-all-I'm-thinking-about-now-wise.
Was disappointed with the Superbowl. Bears had one good play but then went downhill after the first two minutes of the game.
Commercials? Anyone else yawn through them?
Chicago's temp today: 5 degrees (w/out windchill). Dallas: 64 degrees.
I posted this month's editorial on Ambiguity on The Brew. There's lot's of good stuff to come. An essay on The Man Who Was Thursday; confidence in ambiguity in on online dating site; Word abuse and the word 'love' becoming ambiguous; An Exercise in Ambiguity; Finding God in the Ambiguous Future; unclear occupation expectations for young single people in Evangelicalism. And more to come as well. If interested in writing, email eric@caffeinatedstudio.com.
I'm known at my church as 'that single guy from Chicago' to a growing number of people I have never met. The reason this is remarkable is because there are no other people from Chicago there.
Ha! I wish. A single guy at my small Dallas church is more the oddity than someone being from Chicago. I've fielded many a question like, "So what do you think about a singles ministry?"
A friend got me the first six Season 3 episodes of Lost, which I missed. I'm caught up now, both story-wise and it's-all-I'm-thinking-about-now-wise.
Was disappointed with the Superbowl. Bears had one good play but then went downhill after the first two minutes of the game.
Commercials? Anyone else yawn through them?
Chicago's temp today: 5 degrees (w/out windchill). Dallas: 64 degrees.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
New Brew
I posted Dan's article on rethinking how one does church on The Brew.
I was hoping to go Chicago for Founder's Week this year but I ran out of money. Alistair Begg is preaching and that was the big draw for me. I can just taste a traditional Lou Malnati's slice. I can taste the smoothest mocha from Intelligentsia. Anyone's who still up there should grab one for me.
I was hoping to go Chicago for Founder's Week this year but I ran out of money. Alistair Begg is preaching and that was the big draw for me. I can just taste a traditional Lou Malnati's slice. I can taste the smoothest mocha from Intelligentsia. Anyone's who still up there should grab one for me.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
La Villita Drive-By - Real Crime Series
School had just let out in the Little Village neighborhood of
Little Village, also known as La Vallita to it’s many Mexican residents, had many gangs, one of which reared its head that afternoon when someone shot a high school student walking with his girlfriend.
One of the police radios squawked up when the report came into
I punch in the numbers and get around five addresses and phone numbers. I pick one that seems to be in the middle of the block and call them up. A middle-aged man answers the phone.
In as understanding a voice as I can muster, I tell him that I am a reporter from the City News Service of Chicago. Then I say that a shooting had occurred on his block and ask if he had seen or heard anything.
He pauses and then tells me that a kid was shot on his front lawn.
I can’t believe my luck. Sometimes people hang up on you or say they didn’t see anything. Or they answer the phone with “Bueno,” giving you the signal that they probably don’t speak English.
So I keep talking to him, asking questions and catching a great news story that just fell out of the sky.
Some vehicle drove down his street and shot the boy (what you have to call males under 18 in news copy) who was walking with his girlfriend. The boy fell onto the lawn of the homeowner, whose kids saw the shooting and then went outside to help. The father grabbed some towels and blankets to help the boy until the paramedics arrived.
Police and the fire department (which sends the paramedics and ambulances) came to question witnesses and help the boy. They talked to the girlfriend, the homeowner, his kids and other neighbors.
I asked the homeowner if his kids would be wiling to talk and, luckily, they were. I put on my “Sorry-to-have-to-do-this” voice and heard from a son and daughter what they saw. They heard a couple loud pops from a gun and then looked outside to see the boy fall into their yard. They told their dad what happened and were outside to help the boy and his girlfriend, who escaped unharmed.
The kids’ voices wavered while trying to tell me about all the blood. I held my bulky phone between my head and my shoulder while scribbling down all I could on some paper at my desk.
The dad was put back on the phone and told me about the girlfriend’s bookbag, which cops initially took as evidence but then tossed away near some garbage cans. He had picked this up to take it back to the girlfriend, who has since gone home.
Thinking quickly, I asked the dad if there was an ID card in the bookbag. He found one and read me the name and address of the girlfriend. I double checked this info with him and thanked him for all his help. To make me seem more caring of their situation, I told them that their info, which included a description of the vehicle the shooter rode in, would hopefully help catch the people who did this.
I then used the White Pages website to get the girlfriend’s phone number. An elderly lady answered and I gingerly asked if the girlfriend was there. I did another slow introduction and then asked if the girl could answer a few questions about the shooting. She declined, which I was fine with, having been able to talk to an eyewitness to the shooting.
This was one of around five times when a story fell in my lap or I was able to put together a great story.
-------------------
On a different note, I think I'm addicted to Facebook.
----------
The newest Brew article will be posted tomorrow; Lonnie wrote another amazing, beautiful and raw article. Check it out on Monday.
I'll putting together two articles for this month: one on the end of Arrested Development and on the end of my journalism career.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Gluttony
As I leave the city that has shaped me for the last seven years, I’d like to pass on some of the wisdom (grub joints) that has expanded my territory (waistline). This wisdom excludes the common sense (obviously gluttonous joints such as Fogo de Chao, Cold Stone Creamery, or Krispy Kreme Donuts) well known to the common Chicagoan. So here are the places you won’t hear about except through tough lessons learned (heartburn) and sage advice (people who told me about the great food).
My Hood- Lincoln Square
Café Descarte - Corner of Lincoln and Western Avenues - The Oatmeal Latte - Yeah, someone thought of steaming up oats, raisins, walnuts, and dates with milk and espresso. Not for wimpy cappuccino drinkers or those who’ve already had breakfast.
Café Selmare – 4700-ish N. Lincoln Avenue- Rum Balls - rich, chocolate cake soaked in rum and rolled in nuts or sprinkles - Bread Pudding - made with leftover croissants and drenched in caramel sauce-a changing variety of other European and American desserts. Perfect for putting yourself over the edge after eating across the street at…
Garcia’s Mexican Restaurant – 4700-ish N. Lincoln Avenue – The Chimichanga-one of Garcia’s as-thick-as-your calf burritos deep fried and smothered with guacamole and sour cream. Not for the wimpy taco eater.
My (old) Hood-The West Side
Margie’s Candies - Corner of Armitage and Western Avenues-Any sundae off the three-page dessert menu and at least 5 of the homemade turtles.
Feast - 1616 N. Milwaukee Avenue - Anything from the menu.
Work-related Wisdom (places I’ve learned of through jobs)
El Milagro - 3050 W. 26th St. –The Steak Tacos-Two of these will satisfy the buds-delicious steak laid over cabbage, lettuce, cheese, salsa and refried beans. Simple but ohhhhhh, so effective.
The Original Billy Goat Tavern - 430 N. Michigan Avenue (lower Michigan Avenue) - Double Cheese, Double Cheese, No fries – Don’t be scared away by the dismal looking surroundings. This is a must for anyone who knows anything about Chicago, journalism or the news.
Sam’s Grille- 300-ish N. Clark St. – The Philly Chicken Sandwich- a roll overflowing with grilled chicken, peppers, onions and cheese-great downtown greasy spoon that will load you down and have you loving the calories.
Frankie Z’s Clark Bar - 420 N. Clark St.- The Taco Salad- a huge (but not too filling) mix of lettuce, chicken or beef, cheese, salsa, guacamole, sour cream and beans in a fried tortilla shell.
Without Classification
Moody’s Pub - 5900-ish N. Clark St. – The Bleu Cheeseburger- Or any other cheeseburger. Intimate atmosphere with a perfect outdoor seating area.
Portillo’s (maybe this was an obvious one) - Corner of Clark and Ontario Streets - Bacon Cheese burger-This burger has the freshest toppings around and can’t be beat.
Coffee Experiences (always excluding the chain-that-shall-remain-nameless)
Filter - 1585 N. Milwaukee Ave. - By far one of the best atmospheres in the city (and now smokeless thanks to the city ban on smoking)-Low lights, retro furniture and a changing menu of staff drinks
Intelligentsia Café - 3123 N. Broadway – The best lattes or mochas and it shows in the foam. Another great atmosphere and hand-crafted goodness that can only be imitated by some chains.
Café Ballou - 939 N. Western Avenue - Russian tea with raspberry compote-Eastern European look and feel. Closes early.
The Perfect Cup – 4700 N. Damen Avenue – Another of the greatest atmospheres; quaint and simple with great artwork and photography.
Uncommon Grounds – Corner of Clark and Grace Streets. – Any oversized coffee desserts in a two-handed cup. Now has a bar/restaurant with a coffee shop and back room with live music every weekend night.
The Bourgeois Pig Café - 738 W. Fullerton Avenue. – Mexican Hot Chocolate or Grasshoper latte - Two levels of space that makes you want to read books; with one the largest tea selections I’ve seen.
My Hood- Lincoln Square
Café Descarte - Corner of Lincoln and Western Avenues - The Oatmeal Latte - Yeah, someone thought of steaming up oats, raisins, walnuts, and dates with milk and espresso. Not for wimpy cappuccino drinkers or those who’ve already had breakfast.
Café Selmare – 4700-ish N. Lincoln Avenue- Rum Balls - rich, chocolate cake soaked in rum and rolled in nuts or sprinkles - Bread Pudding - made with leftover croissants and drenched in caramel sauce-a changing variety of other European and American desserts. Perfect for putting yourself over the edge after eating across the street at…
Garcia’s Mexican Restaurant – 4700-ish N. Lincoln Avenue – The Chimichanga-one of Garcia’s as-thick-as-your calf burritos deep fried and smothered with guacamole and sour cream. Not for the wimpy taco eater.
My (old) Hood-The West Side
Margie’s Candies - Corner of Armitage and Western Avenues-Any sundae off the three-page dessert menu and at least 5 of the homemade turtles.
Feast - 1616 N. Milwaukee Avenue - Anything from the menu.
Work-related Wisdom (places I’ve learned of through jobs)
El Milagro - 3050 W. 26th St. –The Steak Tacos-Two of these will satisfy the buds-delicious steak laid over cabbage, lettuce, cheese, salsa and refried beans. Simple but ohhhhhh, so effective.
The Original Billy Goat Tavern - 430 N. Michigan Avenue (lower Michigan Avenue) - Double Cheese, Double Cheese, No fries – Don’t be scared away by the dismal looking surroundings. This is a must for anyone who knows anything about Chicago, journalism or the news.
Sam’s Grille- 300-ish N. Clark St. – The Philly Chicken Sandwich- a roll overflowing with grilled chicken, peppers, onions and cheese-great downtown greasy spoon that will load you down and have you loving the calories.
Frankie Z’s Clark Bar - 420 N. Clark St.- The Taco Salad- a huge (but not too filling) mix of lettuce, chicken or beef, cheese, salsa, guacamole, sour cream and beans in a fried tortilla shell.
Without Classification
Moody’s Pub - 5900-ish N. Clark St. – The Bleu Cheeseburger- Or any other cheeseburger. Intimate atmosphere with a perfect outdoor seating area.
Portillo’s (maybe this was an obvious one) - Corner of Clark and Ontario Streets - Bacon Cheese burger-This burger has the freshest toppings around and can’t be beat.
Coffee Experiences (always excluding the chain-that-shall-remain-nameless)
Filter - 1585 N. Milwaukee Ave. - By far one of the best atmospheres in the city (and now smokeless thanks to the city ban on smoking)-Low lights, retro furniture and a changing menu of staff drinks
Intelligentsia Café - 3123 N. Broadway – The best lattes or mochas and it shows in the foam. Another great atmosphere and hand-crafted goodness that can only be imitated by some chains.
Café Ballou - 939 N. Western Avenue - Russian tea with raspberry compote-Eastern European look and feel. Closes early.
The Perfect Cup – 4700 N. Damen Avenue – Another of the greatest atmospheres; quaint and simple with great artwork and photography.
Uncommon Grounds – Corner of Clark and Grace Streets. – Any oversized coffee desserts in a two-handed cup. Now has a bar/restaurant with a coffee shop and back room with live music every weekend night.
The Bourgeois Pig Café - 738 W. Fullerton Avenue. – Mexican Hot Chocolate or Grasshoper latte - Two levels of space that makes you want to read books; with one the largest tea selections I’ve seen.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Adios Chicago
The Beach Picayune is now counting down the days until it moves to Dallas (about a month) and planning out the last few issues. The editors wish to leave their wealth of knowledge about Chicago with those in the windy city through a few issues detailing the best spots in the city. So prepare for Gluttony and Adventure, two posts of places to stuff yourself and places to search out in the city. Gluttony and Adventure are two musts for anyone living in the city.
(And if anyone knows of Gluttony and Adventure in Dallas, leave a post.)
(And if anyone knows of Gluttony and Adventure in Dallas, leave a post.)
Friday, January 06, 2006
Adaptation
“The high for today will be about 42 degrees. It’s currently 41 and you’re listening to…” broadcast the radio station at around 4:15 a.m a few days ago. This was the beginning of January for Chicagoans; a mild streak of weather in what can often be the harshest season for this Midwest giant of a city. Business this week was back to booming at the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain nameless. More people were out and braving the Icelandic 40 degree temperatures and even buying frozen and iced drinks (much to the chagrin of my co-workers). People were enjoying the atypical weather.
But not two weeks earlier the city was crippled during the even rush hour by a furious snow storm that unceremoniously dumped at least 8 inches of powder in about four hours. From about 4 p.m. on, blustery winds and blinding snow delayed commuters on their way home. Some driving home on the Eisenhower Expressway reported a four-hour commute that night. I drove downtown to pick up something from my store that night but ended up staying downtown because of the traffic and storm.
Like all who live in this great city, I had to adapt and change my plans for that night. I had planned on going back to my apartment on the northwest side and accomplishing some things that night. But an estimated three-hour tour home on LSD convinced me to stick it out where I was. So I decided to call some friends who were close by and catch a movie. It’s not like I would be going anywhere soon so I adapted to the situation.
Adaptation seems essential to anyone’s life, since nothing ever goes as planned (And even if it does, one must still adapt to things going better than planned). Your checking account is overdrawn; you have to adjust your spending and finagle a plan to correct your account. You figure out that the profession you studied in school is not necessarily what you can succeed at doing. God deals you some kind of malady that cripples your body, mind or confidence. So what do you do? You learn to adapt.
Why? I adapt because I’ve seen what happens to those who can’t. Some revert back to some remedial stage of life and take some dead end job that has not hint of challenging them. Or they give up on using the gifts that God has endowed them with and accept something lesser. Or sometimes they feel it better to take their own life. And while I can understand how someone could get to such a place in life, I am enraged when I see such a situation. I am enraged at God for letting such a thing happen and I am enraged for whatever other reason I can assign for a suicide. Even if I know that these reasons are nothing more than me grasping at straws to try understand something that is incomprehensible.
So many people I know get used to some kind of support system and rely completely on that system, whether they know it or not. And then when they graduate from that stage of life and move out of a certain environment, they feel like they’re drowning because they don’t know how to sustain themselves without that old environment. Sometimes the solution is to just keep treading water. Eventually, the person may be able to see their situation and learn a stroke that will help them to swim on to the next stage of life.
But sometimes the best adaptation to a situation is to stop treading water. Some people need to be brought to the end of their own ability and begin sinking down into the water. Getting to such a point leaves a person one option: hope that something outside of themselves can help save their life. As they sink further under the surface and the water seems to get darker, a person can look to God and pray for some miracle. And then the person begins to feel a strange sensation on the sides of their neck, much like Harry Potter while in an underwater game in the most current installment of that series.
Something begins growing out of their neck and they can’t help but suck in the water that is pressing all around them. Gills appear on their neck and then they open wide their mouths against all their instincts and fill their lungs with water. They slowly begin sucking in water and their lungs somehow grab the oxygen out of the water and keep it flowing through their veins.
An astounding adaptation has occurred that leaves the person in awe that they can breathe under water and in awe of how inventive God can be.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Angst-Fueled Thoughts Lead to Spiritual Revelation
So it was 11:30 p.m. on some weeknight and I was restless. I had an aching to be out doing something late at night again. Being a reporter during the graveyard shift had left me with the need to be up when only a small percentage of the population still is. To be out and conscious while the rest of the city sleeps.
I realized that this sort of restlessness, this angst, is the perfect subject for a blog. It would be a great intro to catch a reader's attention. It's a vague feeling that surely someone else has had and can relate to but, like me, is not quite sure how to put it into words.
So I ask a friend if she knows a coffeehouse that's open all night besides the well-known anchor of Old Town at Piper's Alley, the collossus of coffee, the ever-present espresso pedler, the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain-nameless. This fell0w night-dweller knew of a place: the Pick Me Up Cafe on Clark. I drove there only to discover a line of people waiting to be seated in the not-so-reflection-inducing, sit-down restaraunt atmosphere. I felt a little out of place walking in with a black leather journal, a legal notepad for blog ideas and The Shipping News, by E. Annie Proulx; the materials necessary for reflection and digestion.
This is a good illustration of angst-driven restlessness, that need for reflection and connection with God. People can relate to this common experience.
So I settled on the haven that vampires, homeless men, chess players and procrastinating students can all agree on: the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain. I drove another few miles and parked up the street, only to find that on this night, it was closed. Apparently, a power-washing crew was super-scrubbing the floors to remove the grime that builds up on a continual basis on the floor.
This was a realistic portrayal of a struggle or a Pilgrim's Progress-like journey that readers can be drawn in to. Will the faithful (but Angst-filled) Christian find that much-needed time of reflection and contemplation? Will he be able to not settle for that coffee-chain-that-shall? Will there be some resolution or spiritual revelation?
I was out of options and I've already driven all around town. I gave up and headed back to my apartment. A Burger King with an open-late drive thru got my business that night. I ate my pre-fab Hershey's Pie on my back porch that night and just enjoyed the night sky.
And then I realized that I could have some spiritual revelation on my back porch. I could come to the conclusion that the only place to sooth my restlessness was in fellowship with Christ. Or I could remember that I didn't need a pre-fab atmosphere, or as some would call it the "Third Place," in order to sort through thoughts and see how my faith fits into my present life.
And soon enough, I'll have written enought to satisfy my readers with more angst-fueled thoughts that lead to a spiritual revelation.
I realized that this sort of restlessness, this angst, is the perfect subject for a blog. It would be a great intro to catch a reader's attention. It's a vague feeling that surely someone else has had and can relate to but, like me, is not quite sure how to put it into words.
So I ask a friend if she knows a coffeehouse that's open all night besides the well-known anchor of Old Town at Piper's Alley, the collossus of coffee, the ever-present espresso pedler, the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain-nameless. This fell0w night-dweller knew of a place: the Pick Me Up Cafe on Clark. I drove there only to discover a line of people waiting to be seated in the not-so-reflection-inducing, sit-down restaraunt atmosphere. I felt a little out of place walking in with a black leather journal, a legal notepad for blog ideas and The Shipping News, by E. Annie Proulx; the materials necessary for reflection and digestion.
This is a good illustration of angst-driven restlessness, that need for reflection and connection with God. People can relate to this common experience.
So I settled on the haven that vampires, homeless men, chess players and procrastinating students can all agree on: the coffee-chain-that-shall-remain. I drove another few miles and parked up the street, only to find that on this night, it was closed. Apparently, a power-washing crew was super-scrubbing the floors to remove the grime that builds up on a continual basis on the floor.
This was a realistic portrayal of a struggle or a Pilgrim's Progress-like journey that readers can be drawn in to. Will the faithful (but Angst-filled) Christian find that much-needed time of reflection and contemplation? Will he be able to not settle for that coffee-chain-that-shall? Will there be some resolution or spiritual revelation?
I was out of options and I've already driven all around town. I gave up and headed back to my apartment. A Burger King with an open-late drive thru got my business that night. I ate my pre-fab Hershey's Pie on my back porch that night and just enjoyed the night sky.
And then I realized that I could have some spiritual revelation on my back porch. I could come to the conclusion that the only place to sooth my restlessness was in fellowship with Christ. Or I could remember that I didn't need a pre-fab atmosphere, or as some would call it the "Third Place," in order to sort through thoughts and see how my faith fits into my present life.
And soon enough, I'll have written enought to satisfy my readers with more angst-fueled thoughts that lead to a spiritual revelation.
Monday, January 17, 2005
On Becoming a Vampire
I woke up today at 11:15 p.m. for the first time in my life. My new schedule of working overnight is beginning to set in. There's been many a time where I stare in disbelief at the alarm clock in my room but it's usually because it says something like 6:45 a.m. or 10 a.m. But not 11:15 p.m.
The transformation to becoming a vampire is almost complete for me. I start to cringe at sunlight, go grocery shopping at 3:30 a.m. and try to call people before I go to sleep in the morning. Now I just have to develop a taste for the blood of young, beautiful, Victorian women.
My vocabulary changes a bit as 'late,' 'early,' 'morning,' and 'night' cease to hold any real meaning and wither away like the some truly effective simile that can't come to mind at 3:49 a.m. I begin to truly understand existentialism since all that is real is the immediate atmosphere around me and the last two or three hours since I woke up.
An all-night Starbucks becomes my outlet to feeling like I'm having some human interaction after the rest of the Chicago goes to bed. Even though I sit in a corner, and speak only a few words the couple of hours I'm here. "I'll have a tall coffee." "Yeah, leave some room." "Okay, I can move while you clean this section of the store." "No, thanks, I don't know how to play chess." "No, I can't give you money to get into the Vietnam Vet's shelter because the rum on your breath tells me not to. Was that Malibu or Captain Morgan that you just had?"
The Starbucks is the best option to keeping my schedule since I already know what it takes to win at Elimidate and how I can make thousands of dollars by buying and rehabbing old homes. Late night television can't occupy the restless mind that is used to interacting with people and being stimulated by human conversation.
And since I know of the no great independent coffee house that stays open all night, Starbucks will have to do.
And hopefully sometime while I'm here, I'll have one of those moments when the coffee kicks in; when my minds seems to clear up; when I can suddenly see the bigger picture of what's happening in my life. I understand why I feel like God has been disappearing little by little from my life. I see what sucks about my job and what is truly to be cherished and held on to like a true gift from the Provider. Why human interaction and true fellowship is so necessary and as nourishing as an all-natural, vitamin-packed slushie from some colorfully decorated juice store chain.
Now if only I could get the baristas to change the Muzak playing over the store's stereo so I don't have to listen to every single song Norah Jones ever sang.
The transformation to becoming a vampire is almost complete for me. I start to cringe at sunlight, go grocery shopping at 3:30 a.m. and try to call people before I go to sleep in the morning. Now I just have to develop a taste for the blood of young, beautiful, Victorian women.
My vocabulary changes a bit as 'late,' 'early,' 'morning,' and 'night' cease to hold any real meaning and wither away like the some truly effective simile that can't come to mind at 3:49 a.m. I begin to truly understand existentialism since all that is real is the immediate atmosphere around me and the last two or three hours since I woke up.
An all-night Starbucks becomes my outlet to feeling like I'm having some human interaction after the rest of the Chicago goes to bed. Even though I sit in a corner, and speak only a few words the couple of hours I'm here. "I'll have a tall coffee." "Yeah, leave some room." "Okay, I can move while you clean this section of the store." "No, thanks, I don't know how to play chess." "No, I can't give you money to get into the Vietnam Vet's shelter because the rum on your breath tells me not to. Was that Malibu or Captain Morgan that you just had?"
The Starbucks is the best option to keeping my schedule since I already know what it takes to win at Elimidate and how I can make thousands of dollars by buying and rehabbing old homes. Late night television can't occupy the restless mind that is used to interacting with people and being stimulated by human conversation.
And since I know of the no great independent coffee house that stays open all night, Starbucks will have to do.
And hopefully sometime while I'm here, I'll have one of those moments when the coffee kicks in; when my minds seems to clear up; when I can suddenly see the bigger picture of what's happening in my life. I understand why I feel like God has been disappearing little by little from my life. I see what sucks about my job and what is truly to be cherished and held on to like a true gift from the Provider. Why human interaction and true fellowship is so necessary and as nourishing as an all-natural, vitamin-packed slushie from some colorfully decorated juice store chain.
Now if only I could get the baristas to change the Muzak playing over the store's stereo so I don't have to listen to every single song Norah Jones ever sang.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
True or false
Would this really happen in Chicago or is it just a guy trying to pass the early morning hours? You decide and post.
A car driving erratically on the South Side led to a shootout in which police shot and killed a murder suspect from a three-month old homicide.
The car fled police as officers tried to pull it over. The suspect car then sped onto the express lanes of the Dan Ryan expressway and crossed all four lanes to veer into the local lanes, during which it hit a sand barrel, side-swipped a semi truck and then rolled over onto an off ramp. Police crossed the expressway to arrest the driver, who dropped a revolver onto the ground after climbing out of the crumpled car. Police tried to use an electric taser gun to apprehend the hefty driver until the man pulled out a semi-automatic MAC 10 gun and fired at the officer.
A gun battle ensued on the expressway until backup officers arriving at the scene shot and killed the man. No officers were hit in the exchange of gunfire on the expressway.
The suspect was first misidentified at the morgue and found to be a non-criminal. However, police later rightly identified the man and found he was wanted for a three month-old homicide.
Hmmm. Sound like something from a John Woo movie or an actual police shootout?
A would-be bank robber at a Far South Side bank was shot and paralyzed by a bank rent-a-cop while trying to rob the place with an accomplice.
Would a rent-a-cop have that good of a shot?
A man who didn't want to pay a cab fare died after leaping from a moving taxi on the Kennedy Expressway and was then hit by another car.
Are there really people that stupid living in Chicago?
A truck with Mexico license plates was found parked in a private parking spot. Sitting on the front seat was 50 pounds of marijuana in a black trash bag. On the rear bumper was a sticker that read, "Report all drug smuggling to U.S. customs."
Too ironic to be true?
A woman came to a police station, claiming that police had arrested her son for cutting off a tracking bracelet from his leg. The woman didn't realize that Chicago police don't give leg bracelets, which are controlled by the Cook County sheriff's. She became extremely belligerent after the desk officers repeatedly told her that the bracelet was not handled by the Chicago Police Department. Police had to threaten her with a taser gun to get her to leave the station as she refused to listen to them, insisting that officers had beat her son.
She began praying loudly in the lobby for her son, whom she thought police had beaten. She then began to pray against the police officers and that the blood of her son would be stained on all the officers in the station. She came within two minutes of being arrested by officers for no reason other than causing a disruption at the station.
Too imprecatory to be authentic?
A car driving erratically on the South Side led to a shootout in which police shot and killed a murder suspect from a three-month old homicide.
The car fled police as officers tried to pull it over. The suspect car then sped onto the express lanes of the Dan Ryan expressway and crossed all four lanes to veer into the local lanes, during which it hit a sand barrel, side-swipped a semi truck and then rolled over onto an off ramp. Police crossed the expressway to arrest the driver, who dropped a revolver onto the ground after climbing out of the crumpled car. Police tried to use an electric taser gun to apprehend the hefty driver until the man pulled out a semi-automatic MAC 10 gun and fired at the officer.
A gun battle ensued on the expressway until backup officers arriving at the scene shot and killed the man. No officers were hit in the exchange of gunfire on the expressway.
The suspect was first misidentified at the morgue and found to be a non-criminal. However, police later rightly identified the man and found he was wanted for a three month-old homicide.
Hmmm. Sound like something from a John Woo movie or an actual police shootout?
A would-be bank robber at a Far South Side bank was shot and paralyzed by a bank rent-a-cop while trying to rob the place with an accomplice.
Would a rent-a-cop have that good of a shot?
A man who didn't want to pay a cab fare died after leaping from a moving taxi on the Kennedy Expressway and was then hit by another car.
Are there really people that stupid living in Chicago?
A truck with Mexico license plates was found parked in a private parking spot. Sitting on the front seat was 50 pounds of marijuana in a black trash bag. On the rear bumper was a sticker that read, "Report all drug smuggling to U.S. customs."
Too ironic to be true?
A woman came to a police station, claiming that police had arrested her son for cutting off a tracking bracelet from his leg. The woman didn't realize that Chicago police don't give leg bracelets, which are controlled by the Cook County sheriff's. She became extremely belligerent after the desk officers repeatedly told her that the bracelet was not handled by the Chicago Police Department. Police had to threaten her with a taser gun to get her to leave the station as she refused to listen to them, insisting that officers had beat her son.
She began praying loudly in the lobby for her son, whom she thought police had beaten. She then began to pray against the police officers and that the blood of her son would be stained on all the officers in the station. She came within two minutes of being arrested by officers for no reason other than causing a disruption at the station.
Too imprecatory to be authentic?
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