Monday, March 7, 2016

And the Winner is... @Sixfootcook!

Doc here, a man who some say loves a contest, a game show, and full-contact Jenga. 

Earlier today, The Good Doctor was out making house calls on Chicago's north side. I decided to take a photo of a well known location in Chicago, Tweet it out, and see if anyone knew where I was and what "it" happened to be. 

The location today is nondescript. A wrought-iron fence in front of a green space on a very busy street.  To the left, a 100 year old building. To the right, a modular looking apartment complex, with a rear parking lot.

Here is the tweet and pic:

Well kids, this image shows the location of the St. Valentines Day Massacre.  2122 N. Clark Street in Chicago. 

The first one to guess it correct was @sixfootcook !  Congrats on your winning entry! Well played, sir!  Hope you enjoyed your mention here at the Journal!

Thanks for playing!


The Gemini Chronicles: Part 2 - A Near-Stranger Walks Into a Bar

Doc here, a man who some say was once was placed into a 30-day rehab facility to break his "Fresca Problem". It failed when a hot brunette snuck in a can after bribing a guard. 

My good friend, the incredible Gemini is back with Part 2 of "The Gemini Chronicles."  In Part 1 (report HERE), Gemini zeroed in on a bad boy type in a bar... In Part 2, we move forward a couple weeks with Gemini looking for an encore with "S".

It is here where we pick up our story, so sit back, pop open a Fresca, and enjoy the song stylings of the sexual dynamo known as Gemini.



A couple weeks later we were back at the same bar hoping to run into S. We were not disappointed. He spied us from his barstool as we walked in the door. I could see him shift in his seat as he adjusted his jeans. My eyes were full of lust and my heart was racing. I tried very hard to remain composed and not take him right there on the pool table. It was all I could do.

We ordered drinks and moved to a tall table. I guess small talk was the cordial and respectable thing to do, but words would not come to me. I just watched the men talk as I simmered in my moistness, drinking vodka to bring down inhibitions that didn’t exist anymore. The wait was killing me. I excused myself to freshen up. When I returned, they were still talking. I couldn’t sit still anymore and went to the patio for a cigarette, hoping S would follow. When I got out there, I realized it was no use – there were too many people. I had a quick smoke and came back in.