Please don't taunt the natives

Unca Cecil has words of wisdom for fans of the Redbirds who are Wrigley virgins:

Confession: Even though I live on the north side of Chicago, and go to Cubs games from time to time, I'm a White Sox fan. I'm not a bitter, brooding White Sox fan, however. Why should I be? My team wins the World Series once in a while. This gives me perspective. I know from experience that patience, smarts, and hard work will eventually lead to success. Cards fans know this too. Cubs fans, on the other hand...let's just say history has taught them life is cruel, and that the law of averages is willing to make an exception in their case.

Keep this in mind when visiting Wrigley. All around you will be people aware that, based on what has happened over the past century, there's nothing to look forward to in the next one. It will be tempting to rub this in. You'll be sitting there in your red shirt next to a glum-looking individual in blue, and after a beer or two you'll want to lean over and say, "So, what's it like knowing your team is always going to suck?"

Don't do this. Be nice. When the Cubs are at bat, for example, speak appreciatively of their T-ball-level achievements: "Oh, my. That was a well-hit ball. Too bad it was foul." This will endear you to Cubs fans. Setting aside those who get arrested for disorderly conduct--and when you're as drunk as they are it's hard to land a proper punch--you have nothing to fear from these people. Watching the Cubs has given them an attitude of Hindu-like resignation. Also, let's face it, this is the Midwest, where everyone is kind, well-adjusted, and good-looking. We're not like those misshapen savages on the east coast--I'm thinking of Yankees fans in particular here--who will piss on you in the johns.

Cocktail de printemps

This morning, I kept to the north side of the street so I could closely scrutinise the south-facing lawns for sprouting bulbs. And, sure enough, I saw shoots not only from the daffodils but also tulips and iris. FOOLS! YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED FOR YOUR IMPUDENCE! There's still a resistant pack of pitted ice on clinging to beech, but our property is certified 100% ice-and-snow-free for the first time since late December (due to a freakish Christmastime warm-up).

As I left for lunch, the sun was beating down and I could've comfortably worn shorts. It was too warm for soup, so I dined on torikatsu with a bonus side of something Hera described as "like caviar, but different part of the fish". After I'd tasted a few spicy chewy bits, Jay came by and said, "대문씨, it's pollack tripe!" (a.k.a. 창란젓). Later, he informed me that this was a delicacy foreign to all but Koreans and Japanese, as was pollack gills, which are supposedly pleasantly chewy

He asked me to savour the outdoor weather for him, but the wind must've changed while I was finishing off my kimchi and mandoo, because it was noticeably chillier when I headed back. monshu reported that it was still extremely warm in the West Loop around 2 p.m., so I'm ascribing the chilliness to lake effect. The weather report promises nothing but rain for the weekend, so I suppose it's just as well that monshu will be inside preparing tax documents and I've got something like six hours of O'Neill at the Goodman.

Jesus Christ, that Attention went straight to my head! That'll teach me to down a cocktail before hors d'œuvres! Last time I made one, all monshu could taste was the pastis, so I reduced that component by more than half this time and ended up with a more balanced, complex drink. It works pretty well tall, which is a definite plus for a lightweight like me.