Billboard — Crime Scene

06/23/2017 by Pat Shiplett 1 Comment

George Orwell is alive and well.During his campaign, Donald Trump accused Spanish-speaking immigrants of being more likely to commit rape and murder than other Americans — exactly the opposite is true.

When he lost the popular election, he accused millions of illegal aliens of voting unlawfully — that did not happen.

He was using fear and hatred to criminalize a entire group of people.

We’ve don’t usually hold politicians accountable for what they say in the heat of a campaign. But in an extraordinary move, the 4th US Circuit Court of Appeals has taken the president’s remarks about religion at face value, citing them as proof that his travel ban is unconstitutional.

By a margin of 10 to 3, they found the president’s remarks too dangerous to be ignored.

Editor’s Update

— The ‘Poster Boys’ are up to their usual mischief, hacking and hijacking billboards. When you least expect it, there they are. Read more…

His Spanish Mistress

06/13/2017 by Pat Shiplett 1 Comment

The old fool experienced exquisite pleasure along with the pain. It was simply too much for the old guy to resist.

He was weak and defenseless in its grasp. The Spanish language had become a dominatrix who imposed discipline and demanded submission.

She dominated him completely, forcing him to study hours a day.

She made him read in Spanish on the left page with English on the right. She forced him to crawl on all fours, going word-by-word, with a translation app wedged between his teeth. She corrected his conjugations and humiliated him in public.

But of course the man experienced exquisite pleasure along with the pain. He discovered that certain expressions have unexpected beauty and extraordinary powers in the language he was learning.

He devoured J. K. Rowling in Spanish and was amazed at how quickly her fair-haired British townsfolk became Hispanics. He laughed out loud when they cursed. This new language offered figures of speech he could steal and use in his own feeble attempts at writing. And who would know?

One year passed, then two, a third followed suit. When it was time to consent to yet another, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.

You may find it hard to believe but during those years of submission and domination, the old fool never thought to create a safe word. It never once occurred to him that this language thing was getting out of hand.

Serema and Soheil

05/26/2017 by Pat Shiplett Leave a Comment

The long forced march is behind them.

The couple seated at the table are about to harvest what they have sown. They’re giddy with achievement and release.

They’ve done it. They’ve nailed it. Totally aced it. They have tee-shirts as evidence of every function they’ve endured as students.

For one of them the immediate future involves tenure track at one of the Ivies; for the other an individually tailored portfolio of responsibilities within an international consulting firm —all of this due to years of work. And now even the gods of relocation have smiled on them — neither will need to sacrifice a career for the other.!

They’ll move to the East Coast within months. As they sit here today, they’re comparing the advantages of towns that triangulate their workplaces.

The young couple has been a part of our community for six years and has discovered that something as incidental as a coffee joint can shape the quality of life in a way few people would imagine.

There’s a reason their names and faces aren’t revealed in this post. Halfway around the world there are families and clans and religions that keep their distance from one another. A ethnic Kurd and an ethnic Armenian, a Muslim and a Christian, are not meant to be together.

Here at our coffee shop, at the most visible table in the center of the room, the man and the women don’t need to hide their troth.

They’ll tell you as a matter of fact that their decision of where to live next, together as a family, revolves at least in part around finding a coffee shop like this one.

Carla’s painting of George Gerber (Copy of original)

02/11/2024 by Pat Shiplett 2 Comments

Being dead didn’t suit George Gerber. And, for George Gerber, being dead didn’t last long.

By all accounts here was a sociable man, a vibrant man, something of a character.

George had moved from New York at some point and wore a Yankee’s hat to prove it. He loved baseball and its traditions. “Now it’s just ‘money ball,’” he complained.

The man lived alone in a balconied condo building within easy distance of the coffee shop. No one recalls any mention of a wife or children.

George had spent his working years at the Internal Revenue Service. We don’t know for a fact, but we should assume IRS agent Gerber was kindly when auditing widows and orphans, and was passably competent at what he did.

George kept up with a stack of newspapers each day (there’s still an honest-to-God newsstand on the corner) and he happened to have the kind of face the Chicago readers of Nelson Algren or Studs Terkel would find comforting.

The portrait that Carla Hayden painted is sizable. She plied acrylic washes until she found the whimsy and panache of the man she enjoyed. When the piece was unveiled George predicted it would end up at the Art Institute.

After George left this earth Brian and John, owners of the Brothers K, afforded the work a position of honor near the double-urn brewing machine where, as you can see, George remains very much alive and with us today.

First-shift baristas report the hint of a frown on that painted face during pre-dawn hours. But it disappears as soon as the Brazilian, Papua New Guinean or Guatemalan coffee is brewed and George breathes in the caffeine he needs to face the day.

Carla’s painting of George Gerber

05/13/2017 by Pat Shiplett 3 Comments

The man in the painting was not ‘merely dead’… but as the coroner in The Wizard of Oz once described it, he was ‘really most sincerely dead.’

However being deceased didn’t suit George Gerber. And it didn’t last long.

By all accounts George was a sociable man, a vibrant man, something of a character. He had moved from New York City at some point and wore a Yankee’s hat to prove it. He loved baseball and its traditions. “Now it’s just ‘money ball,’” he complained.

The man who lived alone in a balconied condo building within easy distance of the coffee shop had spent his working years at the Internal Revenue Service. We can assume that Agent Gerber was very good at what he did.

George kept up with the papers each day and happened to have a face the Chicago readers of Nelson Algren or Studs Terkel would find comforting. No one recalls any mention of a wife or children.

The portrait that Carla Hayden painted is sizable. She plied acrylic washes until she found the whimsy and panache of the man she enjoyed. When the piece was unveiled its subject was delighted, predicting that it would end up at the Art Institute.

After George left this earth the owners of the Brothers K, Brian and John Kim, afforded the work a position of honor near the double-urn brewing machine where, as you can see, George remains very much alive.

Here’s Carla’s artistic statement… Read more…