April 28th, 2023

       Last night I watched a couple hours of the NFL Draft. I was taken back by the Faith the top picks and their families had in God. I firmly believed those men were in the position they were last night because they had a strong foundation built on faith and family.

You have heard me preach about getting straight F’s in life constantly on the Chalkboard. The NFL Draft last night proved that I’m not full of shit.

Those men built a FOUNDATION on FAITH, FAMILY, FRIENDS (team), FOOTBALL and FUNDAMENTALS.

I flipped away from the draft coverage and caught the end of a movie that I’ve loved for almost fifty years. Today’s quote is the last line of the movie as Bizet plays and the camera pans out. The last image is a little league baseball field and the American flag flapping in the wind.

I’m not going to Roger Ebert this movie. I’m not going to explain the impact it had. I’m not going to point out that it is a time capsule of Americana in 1976.

If you’ve watched the original “Bad News Bears” with Walter Matheau then you know how incredible the movie is. If you have never watched this 1976 classic you’ll have something to binge this weekend.

We can name ten great baseball movies. The Kostner movies from the late ‘80’s are always in the top five. I hated “The Natural” because Redford was sixty at the time playing a young man. The book is one of my favorites of all time. Do yourself a favor and read the Bernard Malamud classic.

“Bad News Bears” is my favorite baseball movie. It came out when I was a kid playing little league baseball. I saw a little bit of John Shepley in each of the characters.

There are some politically incorrect lines that are said by young kids and the head coach drinks beer in the dugout. What is not to love about that? You sure as hell couldn’t make this movie in today’s crapfest.

In the world of Coach Bobby Knight and Coach Woody Hayes, it was realistic watching the antics of Coach Morris Buttermaker.

In the end the Bears lost to a team of jagoffs. The snobby pricks get a six foot trophy and the lovable losers get a ten inch trophy. That was what life was back in 1976.

We learned that second place only meant that you were the best of the losers. Second place sucked and fuck you! I’m going to become better because I don’t want to watch assclowns beat me! 1976 didn’t pull any punches nor did it candy coat how cruel life can be.

Don’t settle for being second best and keep Faith in your pocket. That is the motivation and security that gets us to Friday.

Saying that…. It’s Friday!

I get to watch the sunrise skim across matted redhair and crunchy pillow cheeks the next couple mornings.

That is something else that I have that motivates me to be kind everyday.

Come to Riverside on Saturday and watch live music and donate to Saint Jude’s…. Spring Fling weekend!

Also WWOZ is streaming the New Orleans Jazz Festival this weekend!

Laissez les bon temps rouler!

April 27th, 2023

     Wednesday visits with the redheads have turned into “Ted Lasso” night. Someday the Shepkids will have great memories of watching an American football coach lead a team in the EPL.

There once was a chubby kid who spent Saturday nights with his mommy watching “The Love Boat” and “Fantasy Island.” Great memories from a similar period in my life, newly divorced parents.

Today’s quote comes from last night’s episode and Fritz was the one who decided it was perfect for The Morning Chalkboard.

A father gave his son this advice after a tragic incident happened. Instead of fighting someone who has hurt you, forgive them.

Sound advice in a time when the world is antagonistic and hateful.

Fritz is more the philosophic Shepley who thought this approach is the best way to go into the summer before his freshman year in high school.

Hazel on the other hand had that expression on her angelic face…. “Fuck that advice, Stand up and fight Until you hear the bell, that final bell, Stand up and fight like hell!"

There are only a few shows left in the final season. We will need to find something else to bond with this summer. I think the Summer of 2023 is the perfect time to introduce “The Godfather” movies to the Shepkids.

It is already Thursday and we are rolling into the last weekend of April. It’s ”Spring Fling” weekend in Riverside. A dozen live bands across the town making music for charity.

It’s a great event for a great cause!

It is also the last dry weekend for me. This year is the longest period without alcohol for me since I was a sophomore in high school.

“Orange whip, Orange whip, three orange whips!”

Today my Aunt B and Uncle Chris celebrate their 49th wedding anniversary. That means forty nine years ago my chubby thighs were rubbing together in a pair of polyester pants. I almost set the pew on fire from the heat generated from the walk to the church.

Happy anniversary you two love cats. Next year is a milestone.

April 26th, 2023

      The other day I used a Shakespeare quote and the ideas ran swiftly through my pen. Today I jot down a simple quote and I’m having a brain fart.

If you are a parent you’ll remember when your child was going through the “why” period. Why Daddy? Why Daddy? Daddy, Why?

Those beautiful little eyes looking at you and that soft innocent reflection in their voices…… Why Daddy?

Well the truth is…… Why?

Because you gotta climb out of bed every morning and give a fuck!

Give a fuck for the people in your lives, Give a fuck about the world you live in and give a fuck about yourself!

That is WHY!

Just give a fuck for about 73.8 years and leave a world behind that remembers that you were someone who gave a fuck!

Don’t be the piece of crap that doesn’t give a fuck! That guy has no friends, no respect and is a miserable bastard!

Be a person that gives a fuck about God. Be a person that gives a fuck about being a good person.

That is WHY!

People that give a fuck always finish the race in front…

I guess there is something I don’t give a fuck about…. Bad stuff!

Never give a fuck about bad stuff and the bad stuff won’t damper your life……

….and that should answer your question!

All three of my kids walked away from the “Give a Fuck” speech with a dumbfounded gaze.

George took it in an analytical way, Fritz took it in a whimsical way and Hazel took it seriously.

When I finally see my parents again I want to leave behind three happy people that give a fuck when their feet hit the bedroom floor every day.

If you want to know how I feel about YOU…. I give a fuck!

… and that means I love you, care for you, worry for you, cheer for you, pray for you….. that’s what giving a fuck means in a nutshell.

So hold a door for a stranger today and let them know you give a fuck!

April 25th, 2023

     When I was a kid I couldn’t wait to be old enough to drink beer. Beer commercials were so cool when I was growing up.

At first it was the Hamms commercials with the cartoon of the bear and then it was Harry Caray hawking Falstaff at Sox games.

It was the Lowenbrau commercials that hooked me. Guys gathered around a table in suits with loosened ties. Dolan shows up and tells them he’s late because it was hard to pick up good seats to the game, but he scored them and everyone cheered his success.

The waiter knows him by name and hands him a menu. He doesn’t need the menu and tells the waiter, “tonight is special, I want a steak and a Lowenbrau!”

All his buddies hand the waiter their menus and order the same. I wanted to be that cool guy. The guy that scored his buddies tickets to the Blackhawks game and was full of confidence.

I was destined to be a Lowenbrau drinker!

A few years later I switched my allegiance to Michelob. I’m still not 21, but I’ve moved from Lowenbrau and now I was a Michelob man.

Why?

Hot chicks, Manhattan and Francis Albert Sinatra.

Old Blues singing “The Way You Look Tonight” while the camera pans across the New York skyline. Beautiful women waiting patiently in different nightspots for their man to arrive. Big 1980’s hair, shoulder pad dresses, black pantyhose with the line down the back of the calf and Frank Fucking Sinatra.

“Someday, when I'm awfully low

When the world is cold,

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight….”

The cool guys drank Lowenbrau and Michelob. I wanted to be the cool guy when I grew up.

That wasn’t my destiny though. I never became that Michelob man Or Lowenbrau dude. I became an Old Style drinker.

I also wanted to be the Chicago guy that tailgated at Bears games, sat in the bleachers at Wrigley, watched the Blackhawks from the balcony at the Stadium and caught a foul ball in the golden seats at Comiskey.

Old Style it was and Old Style it still is. My dad called Old Style Panther Piss.

“You gotta be shitting me Moose! I catch you drinking and you’re drinking Old Style? You stupid son of a bitch! You’re grounded! Not for underage drinking, but for drinking Panther Piss!”

All these years later I can still settle for a cold bottle of Old Style!

Sox Park and The Stadium are gone, so is my dad. Soldier Field lost the Grabowski Charm and Wrigley replaced the bleacher bums with foolish twats.

…. But Old Style is still around!

I don’t even think Lowenbrau and Michelob are still made!

“Here's to good friends, tonight is kinda special

The beer we'll pour

Must say something more somehow

So tonight, tonight, let it be Lowenbrau..”

My “Sixty Day Celebration for Cecilia” is almost over. My first drink won’t be a beer though. It will be a whiskey drink, but in the days following I’ll find a bottle of Old Style or a glass of Fritzicuffs made at BuckleDown.

What was your favorite beer commercial?

I bet one of you old jock sniffers brings up the Lite Beer commercials!

Happy Tuesday Chalkheads, I’ll have a steak and a glass of beer!

April 24th, 2023

 Let’s go right at it on a Monday morning and throw some Billy Shakes up on the Chalkboard. The subject of adversity and facing our opponent rather than cower in the corner.

We’ve all had misfortune in life. Misfortune that comes with the luck of life’s draw or even worse… by our own mistakes and bad decision making. Usually we are our own worst enemy. We are our own adversary.

If Billy Shakes took my life and wrote a play it would be a comedy sprinkled with a little tragedy. Sometimes a drunken fool that didn’t hear the advice of the blind sage. The player in search for humility when it has always been there. The character that never is prepared to fight the windmill and would rather run into the woods for safety.

It is Monday and the week will undoubtedly bring windmills to tilt.

The spotlight shines bright on the foolish person that finishes a long winded speech, but has nothing more to give.

All of us have fifteen minutes of fame to make the production a success. Don’t let Shakespeare pen you as the failure feeling sorry for your misfortune. Be the lead that brings triumph to the stage and comedy to the next act.

Look at this day as the opening scene to the final act and adversity and defeat won’t conquer your path to glory.

I am my only playwright and I’m using a pencil with a good eraser.

You are your own playwright… rewrite as often as you want. Develop the main character and the flow from one act to the next and never settle.

The dragons will be slaughtered and your army will never retreat until Camelot is safe again.

Okay…. Back to reality. It is the last week of April and there isn’t a dragon or a King’s army to lead into May.

End April on a good note and face May with your chin high and your heart full.

No matter how bad you fuck something up this week it won’t be as bad as the Bears with the ninth pick in this weeks NFL draft.

Draft well Chalkheads and thank you for all the hug’s yesterday.

April 23rd, 2023

        Just about five o’clock in the morning and the birds have begun rehearsing Vivaldi. A calmness is settled in for the time being…

I don’t know why but the nape of my neck and the dryness in my mouth are telling me I pounded a half dozen martinis last night.

So until I figure out my phantom hangover I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet.

Cubs fans are currently getting led into a bedroom by the drunk lover who passes out after the pants come off. If it’s a trap fall back!

Sox fan are standing in a long line waiting to take a piss. Once they get to the urinal the guy in the next pisser misses the porcelain and soaks your shoe. Just another piss poor baseball team on the Southside.

I always refer to the 1977 baseball season. Both teams were in first place when August started. Both teams ended up in third place when the playoffs began in late September. Actually one of them ended up in fourth.

In life and in baseball the conclusion is sex is better when you’re sober and don’t take a piss between innings.

It takes many mistakes in life to earn your PHD in Dumbfuckery. In fact Harvard has called me up to teach a graduate course in their program.

It’s Sunday….. two weeks from today I will be hungover because “Sixty Days Celebration for Cecilia” ends the day before.

Get out of the house and enjoy a cloudy cold April Sunday. Just think that today is November 23rd and not April 23rd. Today’s weather would be great if it was Thanksgiving week.

The Chicago Hounds Rugby team plays NOLA Gold this afternoon. The Golden Ticket for next weekend’s Spring Fling will be pulled at The Cordial Inn at 3:30pm. Go show support….

Lastly, I mentioned yesterday that today is National Hug a Heavyset Divorced Dad Day. I’ll be huggable all day long… men, women, children accompanied by their parents can all hug some JumboLove.

Today is Saint George Day. God save our King.

Let’s all slide into the end of April with kindness and good health this week.

April 22nd, 2023

      Growing up an only child seemed like a curse as a kid, but it actually turned out to be a strong prerequisite for getting older.

During most of the 1990’s and the first few years into the new century I lived alone. I had a gorgeous place about a mile away from my parents house. I had a bakery, a soft serve ice cream shop and a CD store.

….and the Congress el stop was two blocks away.

I learned the difference between being alone and being lonely. I was never lonely during that stretch of time. The loneliest period of my life was when I was married, but that’s not the point of today’s Chalkboard.

My age group is getting to an age where many are worried about being alone. When we were kids the song “Cats and the Cradle” by Harry Chapin played on WLS constantly. We were the kid in the song and now most of us are the parent who have almost finished raising the child.

For those of you that fear the grip of loneliness, I’m a bowl of gumbo away.

I got a late start this morning, the sun is peaking as we speak…. Might be your only chance at vitamin D today. Cold and cloudy is the forecast for later on.

Last Saturday and next Saturday this sunrise will be reflecting off Hazel’s matted red hair. Today the sun streaks across an empty pillow on an unmade bed. I love hearing “I love you dad,” but I also enjoy hearing the quietness of the birds and the roar of the lion at the zoo.

Today I heard the birds and the Lion all by myself and the alone time is nice.

Never let being alone be quiet, make the noise that solitude enjoys.

Go hug a tree today, it’s Earth Day!

Tomorrow is Heavyset Divorced Dad Day, go find one to hug….

April 21st, 2023

 Wait for it….. wait for it…. I was out until 10:30 last night. I about pissed myself when “Mr. Blue Sky” started playing on the nightstand. That’s my morning alarm that goes off at 3:33am during the week. I rarely need to use an alarm, but since I was out rocking and rolling so late last night… I slept to the alarm.

There was a day many years ago when I was just going out at 10:30 and rolling into bed at 3:30 in the morning. Many times a trip down to Maxwell Street was involved.

I went to see Ike Reilly and his son at the Unity Temple in Oak Park. Designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, it opened in 1908.

I’ve been there three times.... a wedding, a funeral and a concert.

The wedding was my dads to my stepmom in the late 1970’s. My dad didn’t get his marriage with my mom annulled, so he was forced to get married in a Unitarian Church.

Cardinal Cody did my Oldman a favor. The marriage lasted almost forty years and the wedding was in a historic place. That’s what you get for not paying the pope a divorce fee.

The second time I was in this unique Temple was for the funeral of a dear friends father. It was the first funeral I attended where everyone was happy and celebrating. These Unitarians don’t milk the grief like the Catholics do. Everyone was happy for Mr. Haas. I think we took Danny Boy for a Polish down on Maxwell Street later that night.

Last night I went and saw a guy I’ve seen at Fitzgerald’s a couple of times in the past. Last night I was going to see John Wagner’s buddy from Marquette.

It was an intimate experience. The average age of the crowd was forty nine. The crowd was mellow and happy. The farthest seat from Ike’s guitar was probably 150 feet.

For me I was there because I was hoping to see Wags standing somewhere off to the side. We were in a religious building after all. Wags loved Ike and I could see why. The storytelling and the passion move the soul, make smiles appear and will make a tear dribble down your cheek.

When they solve a crime in the television show “Cold Case” the ghost of the victim usually appears to the detective at the end of the show. A kind of “thanks for solving my murder, I can go to heaven in peace now” symbolism.

I was daydreaming that Wags would appear in a church pew kitty corner to me. Look over and say, “Hey Shep…. I arranged all the traffic lights going home to be green for you.”

Then he’d stand up and walk up on stage while Ike was singing and unplug his guitar. Smile at Ike and walk over to the altar and disappear. Just like the dead victim from “Cold Case.”

I never saw Wags, but I’m sure he was there. Maybe my dad and stepmom were there as well. Maybe Mr. Haas was there. Last time I saw him he was laying in a casket right where Ike was singing.

A wedding, a funeral and a rock concert. That’s what a famous Frank Lloyd Wright building means to me.

I wanted to drive by my dad’s house in Oak Park. I always do when I’m close by, but my sixteen year old was lighting up my phone reminding me it was getting close to my bedtime.

Wags did set me up… I didn’t wait at any red lights on the way back to Riverside.

April 20th, 2023

 Yesterday’s Morning Chalkboard hit many Chalkheads hard. The blog had a higher than average view stat and I received more than a dozen messages.

Many of us have experienced people coming into our lives and disappearing suddenly. We’ve also moved away or had major life changes that ended a dear friendship.

I’ve come up with a plan that I brought up on a previous Chalkboard.

I’m going to start a campaign in my life called “A Bowl of Gumbo with Jumbo.”

If I’ve seen you or talked with you in the last six days, six weeks or six months I’ll probably see you again in the next six days, six weeks and six months. So dont expect gumbo…

My goal is to sit down for a bowl of gumbo with a person that was a big part of my life. Someone I haven’t talked with in the last 60 months, 60 seasons or since Harry Reasoner left “60 Minutes.”

“Hey, it’s Jumbo…. Do you want to meet for a bowl of gumbo?”

I’ve got many characters that I need to catch up with or set the record straight with as well.

Maybe you can start your own project that brings old friends back into your life?

It can start with a bottle of beer, a bowl of oatmeal, a hotdog, a cigar, a walk in the park, a bucket of balls at the driving range or communion at 5:30 Mass…

Now is the time… waiting until after summer means you’ll punt this into 2024.

It’s time for a beer with Bobby!

Go get a hotdog with Helen!

Grab a pizza with Pricilla…

Today is 4/20….. smoke a joint with Jessica or pull a bong with Barb!

If I’ve done anything positive with this fucking Chalkboard…. hopefully it puts the pieces together that once seemed impossible to gather.

….And for the Thursday Earworm.

“Rise up this mornin'

Smiled with the risin' sun

Three little birds

Pitch by my doorstep

Singin' sweet songs

Of melodies pure and true

Saying', ("This is my message to you")”

If that hasn’t set the Earworm…. This should cement it!

“Singing' "Don't worry 'bout a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be alright."

Singing' "Don't worry (don't worry) 'bout a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be alright!"

April 19th, 2023

       My parents had very close friends when I was kid, the Sadowski’s. Uncle Jim and Aunt Nancy and Don and Cecilia Shepley were thick as thieves. Their friendship was so strong my parents asked Jim and Nancy to be my God parents.

Suddenly the Sadowski’s disappeared when my parents divorced. Two families always together for the first ten years of my life stopped seeing each other. I was a kid so I never knew why it happened, that was none of my business.

My dad started a new life with my step mother in Oak Park and my mom moved to Indianapolis. The Sadowski’s have been in the same house in Elmhurst all these years.

Last year their daughter Pam reached out through Facebook and we’ve been in contact since. I stopped by the house for a visit shorty after Pammy reached out.

When Terri and I were together we had dear friends, Dan and Jennifer Stacik. Terri and Jen went to KU together. We were thick as thieves throughout my marriage. Jen was Terri’s maid of honor in our wedding and we trusted them so much we asked them to be Hazel’s God parents.

When our marriage ended so did the friendship with Dan and Jen. I’m not sure why, but since the divorce I’ve been blocked. They aren’t close with Terri as well which means Hazel isn’t close with her God parents.

These two God Parent stories are both very similar and very sad.

For me the Sadowski’s went from being at every major event in my young life to missing all the major milestones during my later years.

Uncle Jim and Aunt Nancy were sad last summer when I told them their dear friends, my parents are both in heaven.

Today Aunt Nancy is being waked at the funeral home in Elmhurst. Her funeral mass is tomorrow.

I’m not sure what is going on with Dan and Jennifer Stacik, they live in Downers Grove. They don’t talk to Terri much anymore and they are missing out on watching a beautiful girl grow up.

We’ve all had Jim and Nancy’s and Dan and Jennifer’s come into our lives. Paths cross throughout a lifetime and dead ends come out of nowhere.

Time doesn’t always heal wounds. My parents took their wounds to the grave and lost out on close friendship. I’ll never know why that happened.

Just another mystery in my life.

The odds are I’ll never have a beer with Dan and Jen won’t be around when Hazel goes to Prom.

Maybe the parallel God parent stories have similarities in your life? Do you have an Uncle Jim or a Dan Stacik that are missing out in your life?

Is there an Aunt Nancy or Jennifer Stacik several suburbs over that don’t see the struggles and triumphs in your life?

There is a reason why people come into our lives. There is also a reason why they leave.

Don’t let the reason be petty.

(I changed the names of Dan and Jennifer Stacik to protect their identity.)

April 18th, 2023

         George’s mom started to cry when the doctor told us he was on the spectrum. He reached across his desk and cupped his hands over her hands and said,

“Mrs. Shepley, the halls of Northwestern and The University of Chicago are full of George Shepley’s.”

We knew pretty early George was different so we had him tested when he was three. I honestly thought we were handed a death sentence.

It took a phone call from Donald J. Shepley to pull my head out of my ass. It was my dad who told me how great a gift our son was given.

I’ve watched this little boy on the Autistic Spectrum become a young man. My dad was right again, it’s a remarkable gift.

It has been a year since George got on his bike at two o’clock in the morning. He had the determination and confidence to pedal from Indian Head Park to Riverside on a damp spring morning. He’s been under my roof since.

George just needed the steady hand of his father to get him into manhood. Since his arrival I’ve learned more about computers, trains, cameras, Furries and the Autistic Spectrum.

I’ve learned more about myself, my oldest son, my relationship with my faith and most importantly, patience.

Something never associated with Shepley men in the past.

I often hear Don Shepley’s voice saying, “you’ve got to be shitting me son?”

Though it’s coming from my mouth.

This kid doesn’t make his bed and his room looks like the nerd from “Weird Science,” but he has straightened out his father and can find anything out of line around us.

When his brother Fritz and his sister Hazel visit they appreciate their brother more than when he trampled through their daily routine.

It took me years to grip the wheel that my first born is autistic. His life is just wired differently. It’s wired tighter and because of that the world is more crisp, more bright, more detailed.

I saw today’s quote and thought It was perfect….

It’s going to be chilly today, but the sun will be bright. Kind of like being George’s Oldman…

And from heaven a roar bellows, “Son…..You’ve got to be shitting me? What are you thinking?”

April 17th, 2023

 I’m not sure we need to take this Monday morning so seriously. I woke up to my phone chirping to tell me that snow showers are starting soon. Saturday I dusted GoldBond on my nooks and crannies and this morning…. Snow?!?!

You can’t make this crap up. If Mother Nature wants to jag around with the weather then I’m going to go with the flow.

When I told the Shepkids to remember to wear a winter coat to school on Monday they laughed at me.

Monday morning office chatter should be interesting this week. I’m thinking the Bud Light story is old news. Instead of talking how mediocre the White Sox are on the field, my trading office will talk about the fight in the stands.

A large group of Modelo drinkers had a disagreement down the left field line Saturday night. Twitter had several different angles of the two minute scuffle posted online. A two minute fight? The world was so much safer with nuns and Andy Frains…

Another topic will be about all the CPS graduates running rampant through the downtown streets over the weekend. People wonder why Walmart is leaving Chicago neighborhoods? Wait until it gets warm again…. At least the 2024 Democratic Convention is coming to town.

Mediocre baseball, global warming, fist fights at Comiskey, CTA buses getting ransacked…. It’s going to be good talk at work today.

It’s the middle of the month already…. Like I told the Shepkids, “dress warm today!”

...and do something nice for a stranger.

April 16th, 2023

     My parents were newspaper readers. So was my gramma from Greensburg, Indiana. My love for the paper came from them. I delivered the Chicago Daily News, The Indianapolis News and The Indianapolis Star… two out of three of those papers are no longer around.

My Gramma dissected the paper into precise pieces, placed them in order, perfectly folded… the last section was the crossword puzzle. Loretta Stier Zoellner didn’t finish high school, but was the smartest woman I knew.

My dad read the Sun Times on the el train into work because it was folded like a book, made it easy to read. He read the Tribune on the front porch after work. Usually in his boxer shorts and a white t-shirt.

He traveled often for business and always picked up the local newspaper. It gave him a different perspective about how other people, people outside Chicago operated in life.

My mom read the paper because the knowledge of current events made her a stronger conversationalist. It helped my mom land a job in the newsroom of WTHR in Indianapolis.

I love driving Betty over to the newsstand on Cermak to get the Sunday Papers. Too bad they cost an arm and a leg and are thinner than Karen Carpenter.

Everyone is looking at their phones nowadays. The romance of reading the newspaper is gone. All the great writers have turned to blogs. John Kass has gone from page two of the Trib to JohnKassNewsDotCom. Royko is turning in his grave.

Newspapers have lost their style, their opinion, their character. They carry the same wire stories being created by the same service located outside of DesMoine.

A cup of coffee and The New York Times. Another cup of coffee and the Wall Street Journal. Another cup of coffee and the Tribune. A bottle of Old Style and the Sun Times. A cigar and the Racing Form. Those days are gone.

The day will come when I die and you’ll read about it online. The day of reading The Irish Sports Page is a thing of the past. I’m not sure if it’s a Chicago thing, but the Irish Sports Page is another name for the Obituary.

I guess if you get in trouble in the neighborhood your name won’t be in the Police Blotter. That’s a good thing!

Though it was entertaining seeing what ladies from the other parishes got a DUI on Girls Night Out. It wasn’t good though when that girl was from your parish. If she went to a good parish they hugged her after 10:30 mass, if she went to a bad parish they all whispered.

“Did you hear Mary Therese MacGillicutty from Saint Basil’s got pulled over on Roosevelt Road Thursday night?”

“I didn’t, but that’s the night all the broads from Basils go to Friar Tucks for Ladies night… so dat makes sense!”

It’s going to be a dreary day… go get the papers and lay around.

You’ll see the weather turns shitty for Monday, the Sox beat Baltimore, the Cubs lost late to the Dodgers, a police car was set on fire on Michigan Avenue, Bud Light is bringing back Spuds MacKenzie and Joe Biden and Dr Biden watched “Weekend at Bernie’s” with Oprah.

Shots of Ouzo for my Orthodox friends… Greek Jesus has risen! Opa!

It’s already the middle of April. If you bought flower’s yesterday at Home Depot, cover them these next few days…..

As always….. Peace, Love and big butts!

April 15th, 2023

 Hazel loves her new underwear, George doesn’t like old school ice cream sandwiches. That is the conclusion of the Target story from Thursday’s Morning Chalkboard.

Do you know who you never hear about? Fritz….. the middle brother. The glue of the ShepKids.

“How are things going Fritz?”

And with his cool jazz tone, “Copacetic Dad, everything is all good. It would be even sweeter if you tell me we are getting pizza from Labarra tonight!”

I get everybody fed and cleaned up so I can watch the first episode of the final season of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.”

Yeah….. jag off in the back row! I watch that show. You want my man card???

This is one show I can’t go to work and talk to the guys about. We can talk about “Peaky Blinders,” but nobody gives a shit about a female Jewish comedian from 1960.

Anyway, not to spoil it for you, but I was disappointed. I watched two episodes and they both start with flashbacks to the future. It gives you an idea of how the characters end up in life.

Wouldn’t that be great to have?

A flashback to see how things end up… maybe that’s what deja vu is?

I’d like to wake up in the morning and have a flashback to 15 hours ahead.

That’s not asking too much… just enough to see if I had a good day at work and how traffic will be coming home.

Anyway…. It Saturday! It’s still a GoldBond Alert in Chicagoland. It’s official…. The Chicago White Sox are mediocre and in 21 days I’m going to have a cocktail.

It’s been a long “Sixty Day Celebration for Cecilia” this year. It just happens to end on Derby Day. My first cocktail since February will be a Mint Julep!

Get out there and get dirty… it’s supposed to snow Monday.

April 14th, 2023

 All this craziness in the world centered around chicks with dicks and dudes having menstrual cramps. My craziness, my world is centered smack dab in the middle of the girl’s underwear section at Target.

I’m scrambling around the little girls underwear section. This section has colorful panties with Fairytale Princess castles and goofy cartoon animals.

I don’t think my baby girl fits in these colorful cotton knickers anymore.

“Excuse me, pardon me, can I bother you for a minute?”

Let’s just imagine what’s going through the mind of the minimum wage Target employee right about now?

Here is a big dad in a t-shirt that says, “I Love Hot Moms” holding a package of Garanimals!

“Hi…. Uhm…. Yes….. I ah…. I’m trying to size up my daughters underwear and I’m lost. I think I need to go from girl to woman panties.”

“Okay sir….. how old is your daughter?”

Here is where the world of Bud Light cans disappear.

“Well she’s ten, but she has my rearend.”

As I’m saying this I twist to the side and show the Target lady my large ass.

She immediately takes me over to the women’s underwear section and grabs the underwear that I need.

Before I could thank her she got the fuck out of dodge. She left me standing in my “I love hot moms” shirt in the middle of the bra section.

The world is worried about Dylan tanking Budweiser sales and all I want is to buy Hazel some underwear…

All this happening on the night Jonathon Toews is playing his last game with the Chicago Blackhawks.

….And the kicker!!!!

I’m standing there in the bra aisle and George sends me a text.

“Hey Dad, can you bring home some ice cream?”

The heroes in the world run into burning buildings. They hold the hand of a dying gramma in hospice. They protect the streets from bad guys and they work in the underwear section at Target in Broadview, Illinois.

When Hazel comes home to the Divorced Dad District in Riverside, Illinois she will have an underwear drawer with new panties.

We will look back at this Chalkboard in a few years when Hazel has her first period at the DDD in Riverside. I’ll send George over to Target. He can go get his fucking ice cream and a box of tampons for his sister.

It’s Friday… it’s like summer, but just wait, Monday brings back winter. It’s springtime in Chicagoland!

It’s ex spouse day! Treat them to something special.

Have a beautiful weekend!

April 13th, 2023

 The quote today can be interpreted in many ways. I’m going to leave it alone and let everyone drink their Bud Light. It’s a Ted Lasso quote and since Wednesday night is Ted Lasso night I woke up thinking about it.

I’m not ready for this early April warm up. I am currently out of GoldBond and the thigh gap wasn’t happy about it yesterday. Today it’s going to be really chaffed.

Today is peach cobbler day. Put some vanilla ice cream on top and enjoy this beautiful Thursday. I drive past a soul food restaurant on Roosevelt Road after work. Betty the Green Blazer might have to leave an oil spot on their parking lot.

I dated a girl in the 90’s that had a nickname for me with all of her girlfriends. I recently found out that I was referred to as the “Peach Gobbler.” I found it complimentary… I could have been known as “he’s an asshole” instead! It’s a good reputation to have… someday when the Shepkids read all of these Chalkboards they will be impressed?!?!

Enjoy this Beautiful weather while we have it. Put the ballgame on the radio and have a bowl of cobbler. Make sure to lightly dust those hip hop thighs today.