Tag Archives: Mama Cass

Thursday, May 1, 2014 – Homeward Bound – trainspottingChicago



Good evening.

On the 3:58PM out of the City.

I’m in a good mood. Tomorrow will be a light day. I get to spend money on technology! WoooHooo!

But today, I’m in the fourth car from the front. A seedy looking Jim Carey with a shaved head is reading the complete transcription of Donald Sterling’s recorded conversations and is agreeing with every thing the aging swinger was saying. Wife swap? Absolutely! No colored folk in public? Exactly? Sleep with black men? (Now he looks a little discomfited). His large workbooted feet kick out in neurotic reaction to the passivity with which Sterling let his mistress (and presumably ex wife and other mistresses heretofore unrecorded) conduct themselves. His large, widow-peaked brow is bright red with revelation and contempt. You’ve shown your race card, Sterling! For the love of all that is trapped in every repressed white man, let us be sexist as well as racist!” His prepubescent chin-tee (no comparison to our bald friend Chintee, who is hip, urban, womanophyllic, and less uptight) glistens with man-sweat. He violently shuts down his browser, puts in his ear buds, and listens to Rush Limbaugh podcasts about the Clintons.

Also here are Kristen Bell, Harold Ramis, Mama Cass, Kim Basinger, and Lance Armstrong. All are armed.

Sorry this one was so short. Voyeur Interrupted.

Happy Thursday. Safe travels.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014 – Inbound – trainspottingChicago




Good morning.

I’m on the 7:20AM into the City. Today is the dreaded deadline day. Lots on my plate. I actually wore a tie to work but have no meetings to attend. My computer doesn’t care if I’m wearing a tie. My coworkers need me to sign off on their work, and as long as timelines are progressing, neither of us is worried about the seam of each other’s pants. I think because dressing up imbues a sense of empowerment. Sometimes ya gotta look good ta feel good.

Well, that’s more than enough pop psychology for this morning.

Bjorn Borg is back, long hair and all. He reminds me of a college friend, who also was tall and, at first glance, rather imposing. Same coat, same scarf wrapped around the neck. Though I can’t see it, I am sure he’s reading the same yellowed CS Lewis novel. His long hair actually goes down past the nape of his neck, or just about the width of the scarf. He is goateed, but I feel that this adds a rough edge to an already angular face. I am sure he would take on a gentler look if he were clean shaven, though that may not be the look he wants to cultivate. Perhaps he is a professor of some kind? If so, I’d expect to see an attaché case or a book bag full of papers.

The gentleman next to him looks like the current-aged Tom Baker, who played the iconic forth incarnation of the Doctor on BBC television. This silver haired fellow is also quite tall, clean shaven, short cut but tousled prematurely gray-white hair. He used to be a mid-level executive somewhere, but now is a free-range consultant.

Also here are Patrick Troughton, Mama Cass, Dan Lauria, and Lou Dobbs. All are armed.

Happy Wednesday. Safe travels.

June 7, 2013 – Inbound – #trainspotting#Chicago – The Haiku Edition.


Good Morning to you.
On the seven-twenty train.
Feeling poetic.

I’m on the inbound.
I’d rather haiku than blog.
Happy Friday folks.

Sleeping blonde beauty
Sunglasses hiding her eyes.
Cool ankle tattoo!

Aged geisha mom.
Caked with circus clownish makeup.
Bi-cultural fail.

Desi Mr. Bean
Got himself a fresh haircut.
Pee Wee Herman-ish.

Sleeping commuters
Don’t help me with ideas.

Colin Firth is here
Brown hair; jawline; very regal.
I want to be tall.

I can do no more.
Trainspotting needs imagery
I can’t fit it here.

Mama Cass, Yao Ming
Mork from Ork and Jon Stewart
Are here and well armed.


March 15, 2013 – Inbound – #trainspotting#Chicago


Good morning. On the 7:30AM into the City. The rear Quiet Car.The NFI is two. I will be working hard the next couple of days. Three or four jobs happening at once. This heightened workload my cloud, taint or perhaps inhibit the regularity of these posts. Suffice to say I will do my level best to keep you abreast of the ever evolving cast of characters that occupy my train ride.


There is a couple sitting in front of me, one seat ahead. He looks like Peter Cushing, she has a Mia Farrow’s Bonnie about her. She is a natural Red-Head; he has the balding pattern common to WASPish men of a certain age. They are a striking couple in that they would be better placed in Central Park West or the Gold Coast of Chicago. They quietly chatter, but in the Quiet Car they might as well be using bullhorns. An attractive, serious, but uppity looking couple. Both are armed. That’s the vibe I’m getting. Hmph.


Ralph Malph is here. The iconic character from Happy Days is now decidedly metrosexual, wearing a hipster trenchcoat ($25 at Salvation Army), white t-shirt ($20 for pack of three from Old Navy) striped collared shirt with pastel blue, cinnamon red and white horizontal stripes with the top button open to show the t-shirt (A&F $55.95) and a scarf tied elegantly around his exposed neck (A&F $40). His head is geometrically fascinating. The front of the head to the top creates a perfect thirty degree angle. Head lice and fleas can learn to ski there. His earbuds are pumping Bjork or Amy Mann or the latest from those guys who look like Civil War veterans. He is packing a little. 38Special and isn’t afraid to use it.


Paul Giamatti, the award winning and acclaimed actor, is seated seven rows back, across the aisle and along the wall. He has a jawline beard & mustache and looks like he’s on his way to an audition for a guy who watches people on trains looking for … well, something. What a great idea for an indie flick! I wonder what the working title is? Good luck, Paul! Keep that Glock 9 in your briefcase before the reading.


Also here are Mama Cass, Ari Shapiro, Mitch McConnell, the Dos Equis most interesting man in the world, and a young Cokie Roberts. All are armed. Happy Friday.

January 29, 2013 – Inbound – #trainspotting#Chicago


Good morning. On the, regularly scheduled, 7:30AM into the City. The NFI is 1.

These observations have me convinced that the human species has an ingrained program that promotes altruism. I also believe that the altruism is limited to, or at least manifests itself around material possessions.

A scarf fell from the sky. Well, it fell from the second tier of the train car. This sign from above was the trigger to temporarily suspend the Quiet Car rules. An older women – a taller version of ‘Mama’ from “Throw Mama from the Train” – picked it up, stood up, and asked our fellow commuters if this was their scarf. Surprisingly, no one claimed the purple-grey polyblend scarf with matching tassels. She stood in the middle of the aisle, like Ben Stein doing homeroom roll call, awaiting a response. Eventually, a non-plussed gentleman who looks like Congressman Bill Foster (D-IL) took the fallen object and placed it on the edge of the support rail so all of his fellow upper-deckers can view the object and decide whether to abscond with it themselves. Altruism – sort of.

New hire is here. Her face is made up, hair brushed neatly, she’s got a nice jacket on over a white blouse. Her nailpolish is a recently re-coated plum-red. She’s smiling at the text she just received from her co-worker, who has taken a liking to her. She smiles. She is already in a committed relationship, but it’s nice that somebody else is paying attention. She politely responds to the text.

She then opens another chat window to see how her beau is doing. He made some serious money over the weekend due to the weather and that there was a big, three-day conference at the University Campus. Everybody wanted late-night pizza. He had four hours of fitful sleep and then is up to make cookies at the Mrs. Fields in the Mall of the Americas. She reads the texts with mild interest. I wonder…did she switch back and forth between text windows? Hmmmm….

Also here are Ernest Borgnine’s Mom, Colin Firth, Alan Arkin, and Mama Cass.

Happy Tuesday. Safe travels.