I wanted to hand in a fresh column this week but:
- The dog ate my idea.
- Someone said it was nap time.
- Had a pro-Trump piece ready to go until he threatened to ban bunnies because they carry ticks.
- “Me and Bobbie McGee” is lodged in my brain from the Redmond concert.
- Still suffering from heatstroke and excess golf strokes suffered on Father’s Day.
- Was robbed of two topics at gunpoint — one had to do with gun control.
- As my parish priest used to say, it is too hot for a sermon.
- Had an urgent need to do some video gambling in Berwyn.
- Realized I already wrote: “My sock drawer: a colorful overview.”
- Can’t hear my thoughts over roar of the air conditioner.
- Still hung over from celebrating Illinois Press Award.
- Having a midlife crisis in which I suddenly hate words.
- Have a rush detective assignment in Blue Island and also planning to take in the sights.
- Paralyzed with shame over asking my kids to buy me Cubs tickets.
- My analyst has warned me to leave some thoughts unexpressed.
- Incapacitated by bad hair day.
- Brain being resurfaced as part of Madison Street project — currently in “Fresh Oil” stage.
- Distracted by the radio playing one great song after another — oh wait, that’s my iPod.
- I’m not allowed to call in sick — even on a Monday.
- I’m going back to school to study meteorology — promises high-paying positions for being right half the time.
- Busy trying on belt from Father’s Day — promised kids to stop wearing pants below the waist.
- Decided to make English my second language.
- Spend most of my waking hours deleting emails.
- Trying not to lower Review’s journalistic standards with pure gibberish.
John Rice is a columnist/private detective, who has seen his business and family thrive in Forest Park. He thoroughly enjoys life in the village and still gets a thrill smelling Red Hots, watching softball and strolling through cemeteries.
