One of the things old Smails loves more than anything about his soon-to-be-former place of employment is its offices' proximity to the lakefront. A few days a week I will spend my lunch break jogging from the Loop offices out to the other side of the Adler Planetarium and back. It's a nice respite from the day and offers beautiful views of the best lakefront city in the world.This being my last week at the office before starting work at a new place in the suburbs, I used today as possibly my last opportunity for just such an afternoon run. The climate was ideal and the people watching proved as typical, with families, Euros and other joggers and runners traversing the lakefront. Alas, what is that heading my way on a three-wheel bike? Is that an old woman biking topless? Nope, just some 70-something fresh off the plane from Boca displaying his fella bags for all to see. Dude, what the hell?
I understand people feeling comfortable enough with their physical misgivings to shun toupees, wear open-toed sandals to show off those summer-toes (summer going this way, others going that way) or any other mingerish downfall bestowed upon that person during the genetic lottery, but at some point you have to draw the line as to what is fine with you in front of the mirror and what leads to public vomiting. If you've lived long enough on this planet and not exercised your pecs, it's an inevitable that your gentleman toots will be giving the old two thumbs down to everyone. But the onus is on you to not subject the general public, especially weekend warrior athletes, families and international tourists to your geezer knobs.
So to the old fart with the JELLO jigglers and total lack of care for his fellow man--or ape--you suck. Park those AARP hooters in a shirt, a halter top or a bro next time. The last thing anyone needs to see on a beautiful Chicago lakefront afternoon is your set of hair whoopy cushions.
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