Of Goats and Men

In the carpool lane of Chicago sports, there proceeds a caravan of winners and losers. Setting the pace up front, one will find the consummate leaders of the new school -- Derrick Rose, Jonathan Toews, and Starlin Castro. These are the refreshing superstars who supplement their skills with hard work, professionalism, and deferred egos. Pulling up the rear, we have a much maligned Maserati -- Alfonso Soriano is driving, Jay Cutler is sitting shotgun (how's that for some dual airbags!), and Carlos Boozer is now stretched out in the back seat after a successful hitch-hiking campaign (a natural extension of his defensive philosophy). These are the dry-heave superstars who accentuate their mediocrity with bad attitudes, insincere teamwork, and general stupidity.

In the middle of the pack, Patrick Kane is driving the party bus (perhaps out of town), and Lovie Smith is driving the church bus (a good natured man, for sure, but if Jesus was the GM, I'll tell you WWJD? He would keep Lovie a defensive coordinator).

Certainly there will be occasions to further address the virtues and vices of these noteworthy passengers, but for now, I will spend the next 271 words eviscerating Carlos Boozer:

Ever since he lied to Gordon Gund (the former / blind owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers), the karma police have been chasing Carlos Boozer like O.J. Simpson on the Los Angeles freeway. Injury prone and fraught with personal acrimony, Carlos Boozer is the most expensive plague to hit town since Mrs. O'leary's cow started the Great Chicago Fire. Speaking of farm animals, here's a little advanced scouting lesson I once learned from the University of Common Sense: If it looks like a goat, and it walks like a goat, and it smells like a goat ... well, then it's probably a goat. I mean, seriously, is it not now completely obvious that Taj Gibson, Kurt Thomas and Omir Asik would collectively cover Boozer's would-be offensive production, moreover, do everything else better with respect to defense, energy and toughness?

Carlos Boozer adds de minimus value to the Chicago Bulls, plain and simple. His best contribution last night would've been punching Jeff Foster and getting suspended for the next series. I'm tired of his false bravado, and I'm not surprised by the hollow cheerleading he contrived while by standing from the bench last night. Maybe Carlos will find another gym bag to "slip" on, and maybe this alleged turf toe he is suffering will allow the Bulls to cushion his fall in minutes.

But if Carlos ever needs a ride, I'm ready to go -- I've got a full tank of gas, half a box of cannolis, and I know of some secluded ponds in Indiana that we can back into.

In Chicago, there simply isn't enough room for another cursed goat.

Penelope of Wicker Park

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There's Not an App for That

Technology, are you my friend?

There's really nobody quite like you, the way you are always improving and impoverishing my life. The other day, for example, with your fancy 3-D ultrasounds, you treated me to the miracle of my wife's belly as if James Cameron had updated "Look Who's Talking." But then the other night, I read an article that your cell phone radiation may be turning my swimmers into a Michael Phelps bong-circle. Really, technology? Is it possible (given the way previous generations so innocently remember the unknown risk of cigarettes), that with pervasive cell phone usage we are in the mindless midst of history's next rhyme?

I recognize that you are probably a net plus for civilization, considering all of your good citizenship towards science and industry, health and education, and, well, basically everything under the sun. I specifically admire the way you've watered these grassroots movements throughout the Middle East, or how you've allowed couch potatoes to empathize $10 via texts to Haiti and Japan. Your consumer products, too, I must say, these are some marvelous achievements -- anytime you're hanging at Stevie Jobs' house, I'm down for a sleepover.

And I guess that's part of what I'm trying to tell you, technology -- you have got to stop cruising with the wrong crowd. Like your buddies at BayerAG, for instance, the agrichemical company that produces the insecticides used on food crops. Scientists now believe that this innovative formula is public enemy number one in the disappearing bee phenomenon. Surely you know that another scientist (named Einstein) once said that "If bees disappear from the earth, then man will only have four years to live." Oops! And how about that adorable little cyber threat of yours, my gosh! Did you hear that when national security insiders are asked what most keeps them up at night, the answer is almost invariably the large scale cyber attack which cripples (further cripples, I should say, the poor things) our infrastructure and banking systems?

Have fun cleaning that one up.

But no worries, technology, I'm not hating on you -- I understand that you're an equal opportunist by nature. I just wish that you would give some of this stuff a little more thought moving forward -- I mean, the industrial revolution was really cool, but now Al Gore is too. Facebook and texting allow us to be social animals, yet sustained eye contact is climbing up the endangered species list. I know, I know, I know -- this is how you roll: for every strength, a weakness; for every convenience, a consequence. But please, if you can help it, don't be such a whore. If you won't start taking some responsibility for yourself, one can only hope that we humans will more often do the right thing by you, or even know what the right thing is ...

And there's definitely not an app for that.