If Chicago food is the Apollo 11 mission, the Italian beef sandwich is Michael Collins, far less famous than deep-dish pizza and the Chicago hot dog. It's not typically what out-of-towners order if they have only 24 hours in the city; it's more of a third-day-in-Chicago kind of thing. It ruins shirts and leaves you with pungent breath. It employs the most flavorless cut of beef. The Italian beef is a messy, texturally one-note, woefully unphotogenic wet mound of a sandwich. And what a beautiful wet mound it is. It brings Chicagoans like me enormous pride that it has achieved pop-cultural notoriety after the FX series The Bear yanked it out of national semi-obscurity. |
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This famously stressful show is now...relaxing? |
| It's only $10 and infinitely better than anything else out there. |
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One of the perils of running this shebeen is that, every day, sooner or later, you have to close up shop. And, as we daily see in the House of Representatives, idiocy never sleeps. We took note on Wednesday of Rep. Lauren Boebert's rattle-brained motion to impeach the president because she doesn't like his immigration policies. Here's what else happened: 1) Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene got frosted because she thought Boebert had stolen her impeachment idea, and she called her partner in stupid a "little bitch" on the floor of the House. 2) Over in the committee rooms, former Trump-allied special prosecutor John Durham was roasted on a spit by the Democrats on the House Judiciary Committee, particularly by Rep. Adam Schiff, who managed to draw Durham into one implausibility after another. |
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It's time to save some serious cash on tech. |
| Slip into something great. |
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A lady, just a moment ago, stopped me and thanked me, which is kind of cool after what we've been through in the media these past few years.
You can't hammer people for half an hour with nothing but dark, difficult stories. You have to find a balance: Give them something hopeful, give them something to smile about, while making sure we hit the big stories of the day.
Seconds count. While the ending story is on, the producer will say, "Okay, you have fourteen seconds on the back side to say goodbye." Sometimes I only have three seconds.
I'm one of those people who always has a tune running through his head. Could be country, could be R&B, could be jazz.
Growing up on an Air Force base, you learn to make friends in a way that maybe other kids don't, because either your father is transferring or someone else is transferring in. So you have this chance to kind of redefine yourself as a kid.
My parents constantly instilled us with a sense of "Of course you can." That there are no obstacles. |
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