SB & THE FIVE-O

I was talking to my niece and asked her how she was feeling about it being 1997. And she said "It’s 2007 Uncle Marty, you’re stuck in the 90’s". She couldn't have been more right. For the first time in my life I feel like the last 10 years have just blurred past like a speeding automobile traveling in the opposite direction. Bruuuumpppphhhh! Oh there have been some head on collisions with time this past decade, like the weeks of drudgery as a new employee of a relatively non-existent banking company in a satellite market with no clients. Talk about boredom. I remember for one entire day I listened to NPR internet radio and scoured the archives for cult status interviews with white dwarf stars such as David Johanson and his alter-ego Buster Pointdexter (genius) and the drug stenched mysterious songwriter named Izzy Stradlin that was the mind behind Axl Rose. I spent hours etching brick walls on standard ruled yellow notepads until the last slivers of my number 2 pencil slid under my fingertips like Kryptonite spikes into Superman or "I am super bored man!"

I started listening to dozens of ghost stories I found online so I could find one that I could adopt as my own. When at a dimly lit party I could lean in real close and whisper "Wanna hear a ghost story". And then I would swear by all accounts it was true cause it happened to me and could happen to you. I did find that perfect ghost story and it ended with of all things the least scary catch phrase of the ghost story telling world. It simply said "YOU GOT IT", at the exact right time with the vocal timber of intent. It was magical in its simplicity. I know about this sort of thing because my sister made me take a class with her at the University we attended together. It was called "Supernatural Themes in Classic Literature". It was essentially ghost stories with a more sophisticated name. I learned that word "Doppelganger" is German for "Double Person" and if you see your own doppelganger or twin then you die. Now that is a great story. They essentially come to get you cause there is only to be one of you on this planet. With that said, I don’t know how the Germans felt about identical twins. Check their tourism bureau before planning a family vacation.

Back to time flying. I remember more from the boredom times than the time traveling past two years. It's during the mandatory times of reflection that you lay tracks for the future path or at least point yourself in a direction of choice.

Where is everyone going? Maybe I will hitch a ride. You’re always welcome on my trip. I carry a strict policy of more the merrier. Oh, that would be a good song name "More The Merrier". I always keep my eyes peeled for good song names or album titles. "More The Merrier" also sounds like a Steve Martin holiday adventure movie of a large extended family and the hijinks that ensue. By the end of the flick everything is A-OK and sealed with a kiss. Good for Mr. Martin, life is that easy in the thrills of suburban bliss.

I am not a mind reader or predictor or psychic or even a horoscope junkie but I do know what 87.6% of you reading this will be doing this Sunday. Watching the BIG GAME!!!!! Yep that's what I'm gonna be doin. Watchin that BIG Game. Big G....... Nope, wait, wait a minute. I can’t do it. I getta step back for a sec…. I can’t hold back, I feel it burning a hole through my diaphragm and scratching towards the surface, it’s gotta come out. SSSSSS SSSSSSSSSS SSSSUUUUU SUPER BOWL!!!!! There I did it. And it feels pretty good. I don't quite understand how you can copyright those words and nobody on TV or radio or in general public can even say it without paying for it. The Super Bowl is now like the band KISS. Yer gonna pay for it. Weird circumstance is that every time I type the words Super Bowl my computer is making a crumpled sheet of paper noise. Oh hold on someone is at the door. Weird, but I think I just heard something rustling in the bushes. Oh no, it's the Super Bowl popo and the Five-O comin to get me. If you don’t hear from me then you can assume I am buried in the end-zone at Soldier Field due to my forbidden use of the words SUPER BOWL.

You know it. Say it loud n proud.

Go Bears! Sunday Night We’re Gonna Party Like It’s 19-85.

Marty Casey