Never Saw The Movie Chicago-Never Will

I'm almost ready to talk about my failed trip to the west coast, but probably won't. Instead I should talk a little bit about Chicago where I spent this past week-end.

I didn't get to the Grand Ole Oprah, I didn't see the movie Cloverfield. The only blues I experienced was my stinging thighs and exposed face skin in the zero and below. No Chicago style pizza or gangland hits. Not one cow starting any fires. The bums on the train were at least pleasant and plentiful. I ate breakfast when I woke at whatever time I was waking and watched TV and napped. Staying indoors was the way to go doing nothing for days.

Chicago still remains mostly a mystery to me other than what I've learned from the Blues Brothers and Ferris Bueller, and I don't mind that at all.