tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59946772009-11-11T22:45:47.717-06:00Mike Pontillo&#39;s online soapbox — alienating friends, loved ones, and well-wishers since 2003<br><br>Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-72702095502716530792009-06-21T14:54:00.032-05:002009-06-22T00:08:38.953-05:00

We live in an age of unprecedented freedom of expression. Despite lingering pockets of prejudice and repression, the majority of us consider ourselves to be reasonably open-minded, and this has allowed tremendous latitude among those who previously felt the need to remain inconspicuous, lest society point the finger of judgment. In terms of sexuality and behavior, people are free to just be “

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-76529003630278188402009-01-24T19:52:00.004-06:002009-01-24T21:35:52.817-06:00

Some years ago, I was diagnosed with adult-onset diabetes. It’s one of the trendy diseases, increasing in popularity every year as our crappy eating habits and sedentary lifestyle catch up with us.It’s also a family legacy, one of the things my grandfather left to me, along with comically large earlobes. When I was a kid, I would run through my back yard really fast to see if I could become

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-59450195388713793752008-11-05T22:27:00.018-06:002008-11-06T17:40:08.892-06:00

History. We made history.My Republican friends are no doubt in a foul mood right now, so I want to speak directly to them. Democrats, you may leave the room.______________________________Hello there.I know you think I’m going to be mean to you. You think I’m going to be a poor winner.Well, I don’t want that. However, there are a few things that we simply must discuss. Honestly, I’ll be polite.If

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-4233349492429816742008-10-23T22:06:00.009-05:002008-10-24T22:30:07.904-05:00

I’m celebrating a couple of anniversaries this week, and I’d like to invite you to join me.First off, believe it or not, Sunday marks the fifth anniversary of Mike’s Circular File. My web-based bully pulpit went online on October 26, 2003 with an essay about the two things that make my life as a Cub fan miserable: the Cubs themselves, and White Sox fans. It’s a theme I’ve revisited on a few

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-16572553047986461772008-10-10T13:54:00.006-05:002008-10-10T17:17:47.660-05:00

Image adapted from www.matthewoverton.com/sub/variety.aspI’m a Cub fan.Being a Cub fan has its privileges. Among them are suffering, humiliation, and heartbreak.This year, the pain was almost exquisite. The Cubs finished the regular season with 97 wins, only to be swept 3-0 by the Dodgers in the first playoff round.“Lovable losers?” asked the article on ESPN.com. “No, just losers.”This debacle

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-14098989380135742902008-09-03T13:05:00.005-05:002008-09-04T20:30:02.230-05:00

I have always been mystified by the phrase, “the miracle of childbirth.” Pregnancy and childbirth, under the right circumstances, is a wondrous and joyful thing. It is not, however, a “miracle.” Something that I have spent my entire adult life trying to prevent from happening does not qualify as a miracle. Getting knocked up is far too easy to be considered miraculous.Previously in this space, I’

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-70462700696223735462008-05-31T12:18:00.027-05:002008-06-14T10:43:27.257-05:00

I hate Apple. Hate it, hate it, hate it.I hate the fact that “iPod” has become a generic term. The correct term for such a device is PMP — Portable Media Player. Many companies make them, you know. The iPod is just one brand, and an overpriced and proprietary one at that, purchased primarily by people who don’t know any better.Everyone I know rolls their eyes and looks at me condescendingly

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-87690596186373038722008-05-04T22:17:00.012-05:002008-05-31T12:17:40.303-05:00

This coming Tuesday promises to be quite significant for the political aspirations of Senators Clinton and Obama. The states of Indiana and North Carolina will be holding primary elections. If the pundits are correct, the results could force Hillary out of the race entirely, or lead to a complete deadlock between her and Senator Obama as the Democratic convention approaches.I watch and read a

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-89059966098287306522008-02-15T22:24:00.014-06:002008-05-04T20:12:36.869-05:00

The first essay I posted here was on the subject of death. Let me apologize in advance for revisiting the issue, but it is very much on my mind today.If self-awareness is a blessing, fear of death is the accompanying curse. You cannot know yourself without also knowing that someday you will die. In an effort to cope with this knowledge, man invented religion. It’s the best we’ve been able to

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-25531119164237556042008-01-16T21:53:00.004-06:002008-09-03T00:24:51.092-05:00

There comes a time in every man’s life when he must look deep into his own soul and observe his true self, honestly and without prejudice. What he finds may not necessarily please him, but he cannot truly claim to know himself otherwise.I had the opportunity to perform such soul searching the other night, and I witnessed incredible darkness and ugliness in the depths of my being, an unspeakable

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-28693558613529807362007-10-07T17:09:00.001-05:002008-05-04T20:37:21.663-05:00

I swore I would never do this.Just try to pin me down to a type - can't be done. I'm a political liberal with a conservative lifestyle. I'm a computer geek with social skills. I'm a Cub fan, but otherwise I'm considered reasonably intelligent…Online dating is for losers, I always insisted. The last refuge of desperate, damaged people.…besides the computer stuff, my hobbies are writing and music

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-43973938722129081942007-08-28T17:36:00.000-05:002007-08-30T20:00:51.096-05:00

It seemed like a strange system to me, once I had figured it out at the age of six. You grew up, got married, had a kid or two, and then once you got old, like about forty, you were no longer allowed to live with your spouse. It wasn’t fair, but those were the rules.This was the only logical explanation for my family arrangement. My parents lived together with me and my baby sister, but my

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-49758890441153474402007-05-17T20:36:00.002-05:002008-05-04T20:30:30.428-05:00

“Flat fee my foot! I get residuals, or ye can hawk yer own goddamn cereal!”Is it just me, or are you getting sick of Shrek as well?The guy is everywhere. This marketing blitz is unlike anything I have seen. Here is a partial list of the products currently adorned with the ogre’s chartreuse countenance: Sierra Mist. Frosted Flakes. Froot Loops. Pop-Tarts. Snickers. M&M’s. Cheez-Its.

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-51833796920071382222007-05-02T17:52:00.000-05:002007-05-24T10:34:57.113-05:00

There’s something of a flap going on about Greg Olsen, the Chicago Bears recent first-round draft pick.Apparently, as a college freshman at Miami, Olsen and some of his buddies recorded a rap song with lewd lyrics and demeaning references to women. The media recently picked up on this, resulting in a denunciation by the school and an apology from Olsen.“It was an immature mistake on my part and

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-35252038770268513632007-04-13T19:17:00.000-05:002007-04-14T22:25:55.919-05:00

As a writer of random thoughts which are posted on the Web for all to see (all twenty of you), stories like this give me pause.A couple from the town of Thackthwaite in northwest England had read an article in their local paper, the Cumberland News, which bemoaned the fact that the area’s beloved red squirrels are being crowded out by an influx of common grey squirrels. True enough. But the

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-63913859823299103202007-04-10T01:46:00.000-05:002007-04-10T17:27:05.873-05:00

I hate going to the post office.Maybe I’m wrong, but there had to be a time in the recent past when the post office wasn’t the local hangout for morons with loads of free time.I went to the post office yesterday to mail an important letter that weighed more than an ounce.Yesterday was a Monday.I hate going to the post office on Mondays.The parking lot was full, and the line was practically out

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-41206607483526501912007-03-21T14:07:00.000-05:002007-03-21T15:18:46.728-05:00

I blame the parents.We’ve known for some time that the past couple of generations of young people have been raised to be “soft.” They’ve been coddled, indulged, overprotected, and given stupid designer names by parents who grossly overestimate the importance and uniqueness of their own offspring. George Carlin called it the “Cult of the Child.”At some point, parents stopped being parents and

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-48256519673307562252007-02-25T13:13:00.000-06:002007-06-22T21:18:25.406-05:00

The following is an excerpt from my forthcoming book, "The Unattractive Guy's Guide To Relationships." It is forthcoming because I am still writing it.Sometimes, in moments of quiet desperation and loneliness, the unattractive guy looks deep into his soul and contemplates the unthinkable. “Maybe I should just turn gay.” Assuming he is not already.Kinsey estimated that about ten percent of the

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-53439404810795056022007-02-11T10:53:00.000-06:002007-02-23T10:12:30.193-06:00

I am not a vain man. When I am wrong, I will gladly admit it. It’s simply not a frequent occurrence, and almost never happens now that I am no longer married.But, being a reasonable fellow, I’m willing to entertain the possibility that I could be wrong about something, especially in the face of overwhelming evidence.I have ranted here once before about people who hang the toilet paper the wrong

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-1160512474374792782006-10-10T15:32:00.004-05:002008-06-25T11:37:56.962-05:00

Well, I had so much fun doing Audio Magazine #1 (apparently much more fun than you had listening to it) that I've decided to do another one! Hooray!Humor me.The theme of this audio magazine is "Songs For My Grandmother." The program is 35 minutes long, and the MP3 file is 16MB in size, so as before, you probably don't want to do this on a dial-up connection. Don't you have a friend with

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-1155953839402723932006-08-18T21:16:00.001-05:002008-05-18T23:40:29.441-05:00

I used to enjoy going to the symphony. But I don’t go anymore. My mother and I are afraid to show our faces, because we managed to cause a scene at a performance of the Illinois Philharmonic Orchestra at Governors State University some years back.Let me backtrack a little. It’s no secret that I think fart jokes are funny. Flatulence in general is a rich trove of humor. (I have an extremely

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-1146460868311892342006-05-01T00:20:00.000-05:002007-02-23T10:16:32.020-06:00

Today is my 42nd birthday, and there’s a place that I’d like very much to celebrate it, but I am unable to do so.I have written in this space before about my little sister Nicole, the Irish dancer, who is now 18 but still my “little” sister as far as I am concerned. Her father (my stepfather) works for Wells Fargo, and when Nicole was about to start high school, they and my mother left the

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-1143345808272903622006-03-25T22:02:00.001-06:002009-01-24T19:43:27.219-06:00

One of the advantages of being an old fart is that it gives you perspective on how things change over time. One of the disadvantages is that nobody wants you to share that perspective with them.I can remember when cell phones first hit the consumer market, back when the phones weighed eleven pounds and you had to carry them and the associated cables around in a bowling bag. I realized that they

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-1140409893103617452006-02-19T22:23:00.001-06:002009-01-24T19:43:45.852-06:00

Last night I was driving home from my sister’s house. It was a bitterly cold night, three degrees and dropping, and I had about forty miles to drive. I thought I might like a hot cup of coffee in the car with me. I‘d been laid up almost two weeks with a cold, and I still had a raw throat and hacking cough. The weather certainly wasn’t helping.Sometimes the cold weather gives me these aches, you

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5994677.post-1139017722368076102006-02-03T19:45:00.003-06:002009-01-24T19:44:28.040-06:00

As I approach the age of 42, I am finally coming to grips with the fact that I can no longer eat the same sort of junk food that I’ve enjoyed all my life.I have come to this conclusion many times over the past few years. In each case, the foods in question have been either entering or (more likely) exiting my body at the time. Most recently, I was picking over the lunch buffet at a nearby KFC

Mikehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02288738840091675939noreply@blogger.com