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02.03.02 - 05.25.02.
05.26.02 - 09.14.02.
09.15.02 - 01.02.03.

LUDIC LOG

MY ILLINOIS PROBLEM

My problem with Illinois is similar to New York City's problem with New York State, or San Francisco's problem with LA: it doesn't like me and I don't like it. To Chicagoans, Illinois is a big ugly pile of dirt that the Big Town was built on, a gross and ultraconservative nothingness that does little more than feed us and give us two letters to put before our ZIP code. It's what everyone means when they talk about the flyover states, and the fact that Lincoln was born there is an unhappy coincidence. And to "downstaters" (the Chic term for anyplace outside the 606), Chicago is every hick's worst nightmare: the big city personified -- crooked, permissive, corrupt, swarming with crime and drugs, greedy, rapacious, show-offy and teeming with dangerous brown people. It's a cancer growing on the head of the state that they can't afford to cut off. Illinois despises Chicago, and Chicago hates Illinois right back; both would be more than pleased if the other seceded tomorrow. That said, they make a mean soybean, and there's Steak & Shakes aplenty.

MY IOWA PROBLEM

My problem with Iowa is that it's a great place to catch up on your sleep. It's pretty; unlike Illinois, it doesn't violently detest Chicago; unlike Wisconsin, it's not politically obnoxious, and even has an entertaining caucus; and unlike Indiana, there's nothing really hateful about it. However, that's more from lack of effort than anything else: Iowa is so boring that it's impossible to find anything worth hating. I realize that this may just be because no one has hipped me to all the thrilling things to do in Davenport or Ottumwa, but Iowa is just a very, very, very boring state. In addition to its extremely soporific nature, it poses an intense rivalry to Wyoming and rural Ontario for the crown of Most Uninteresting and Desolate Place to Drive Through, and it seems to have a lot vested in the notion of blandness. It's completely landlocked (I'm not one of those people who needs to live by the ocean, but having Lake Michigan to look at in the summer is a nice thing), and worst of all, it seems to generate a tremendous amount of successful young people who move to Chicago, buy condos, and go to Cubs games.

MY MISSOURI PROBLEM

My Missouri problem is that it's sort of like Iowa with a snotty attitude. Similarly landlocked and boring, Missouri nonetheless possesses that irritating mix of Southern ignorance and Northern arrogance that likewise plagues the people of Maryland. I don't really hate Missouri, as I don't really hate Maryland. In fact, I actually quite enjoy the cities of St. Louis and Baltimore, even though they're decaying, awful relics of a bygone time. It's just that they both seem to produce citizens ignorant of their own lack of boasting cred. Also: John Ashcroft.

MY INDIANA PROBLEM

My problem with Indiana is that I hate everything about it. It's spared the title of Worst State in the Union only because Texas still exists. I hate Indiana so much that it's even worse than Florida, which is somewhat miraculous given my soul-hate of the Sunshine State. Indiana should be paved over and converted into a parking lot for the good people of Chicago, and the parts that are too far away to park should be given back to the Indians who give the misbegotten state its name, not that any self-respecting Indian would live there anymore. Boring, smelly, vile, racist (it's the midwestern HQ of the Klan), and American in the bad way, every time I have to go to Indiana my skin crawls. It's characterized by two permanent images in my head: big dumb white guys yelling about sports, and their pregnant white wives driving SUVs to the shopping mall. There are so many cities in Indiana to hate, it's hard to pick just one; murder capital Gary, Dillinger-dissing Crown Point, bone-dull Muncie and all-around shithole Bloomington are all strong candidates. But in the end, the capital has to take it. From its "we couldn't think of anything" name to it's "we couldn't think of anything" urban planning (the city layout, like the typical citizen, is a big square), it's hateful enough on its own merits, but it's also the country's most Naziesque metropolis: with its fortress-like design, grey-concrete-bunker architectural theme, sports mania, high Germanic population and innumerable military statues, it looks exactly like a city that Albert Speer would have modeled if the Germans had won the war.

MY WISCONSIN PROBLEM

I don't have a problem with Wisconsin, really. It's beautiful and pastoral, they produce lots of high-quality pornography, the women are visions of cornfed purity, they dine on cheese and sausage (two of my favorites), they are very fond of beer (even if most of the beer up there isn't as good as its reputation), and the state, as a rule, is so fat that I feel downright svelte when traveling there. It's also the home of the Apple Holler, my pal Saperstein, the lovely town of Madison, talented comics writer Mike Baron, the sausage race, Wisconsin Death Trip, and one of my favorite ex-girlfriends. Sure, it's overrun by Jesus freaks, but so is most of the Midwest, and Mad Town balances out the conservativism a bit. And sure, it's rather intimidatingly Germanic, and large concentrations of Deutchers have always spelled trouble for the neighbors, but somehow I find the Kraut Quotient slightly less unnerving than, say, the megadoses of Scando you get in Minnesota. Don't get me wrong; I couldn't live there. There's only one big city, and not only is it depressing, it's Milwaukee. But all in all, it's a fine place to bide a wee, plus you can call it Sconsin.

MY KENTUCKY PROBLEM

I like Kentucky.