Category Archives: Characters

HAT TRICK

20161220-20150207-_jaj5090tby John Jonelis

He can feel it, hear it—his heart—beating hard, beating fast. Pounding above the din of those big nubbly tires and the blast of snow hitting the wheel wells. Is it anticipation? Fear? Primeval blood lust?

How will it feel to gun down a living animal? Can he really pull the trigger?

Today, Loop Lonagan joins seven seasoned hunters and four highly trained dogs to indulge in what his editor calls one of the great joys in life—slaughtering a few of God’s creatures. He’s a last-minute stand-in and rounds out the party to eight. Two hunters per dog. Perfect! How did he let himself get roped into this?

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Seasoned hunters?

Loop is a man that loves a brawl—loves it more than anything in the world. He still uses his fists when he gets a chance, but he’s never taken the life of a fellow creature—at least nothing bigger than a cockroach. Today, for the first time, he will attempt to kill pheasant with a shotgun—and for some reason it makes him itch.

Pretty soon, the storm gets mean and he wonders if it could be the weather that’s crawling under his skin. Both highway and horizon fade to white. Only a stray stop sign proves they’re even on a road. And the driver tools along as if nothing’s the matter. Loop shakes his head and mutters under his breath, “Dis is ridiculous. Gotta get myself under control.”

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White out

“Hmm?” Jonelis flips on the wipers and smears half-frozen slop off the windshield. “You say something, Loop?”

“No—no, nothin’ John” Loop goes silent. No way he’s gonna slobber all over the boss with his stupid fears. Just look at the guy! He’s barely touchin’ the wheel. He’s wearin’ that big satisfied grin like he’s in some kinda bliss. What’s he thinkin’?

Wind buffets the truck. Loop looks mournfully out the window.

Finally he can hold it all in no longer. Pointing to the GPS, he shouts, “Dis don’t look much like Route 47 to me, John boy. We shoulda oughta turn back.”

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What road?

The driver squints out the corner of his eye. “Turn back? TURN BACK?” He raises his voice to a roar. “WHAT ON EARTH FOR?”

Loop goes silent. He’s stuck here. He’s gotta tough it out.

“C’mon Loop—don’t pout like that. It snows in Chicago—every year it snows—you noticed that, right? And this whole bottom end always gets hit worst.

No response.

“Thirteen years, and my F-150 still gets me where I wanna go. It’s made for this weather.”

Still no response.

John suddenly cranks the wheel hard.

The truck swerves.

The faint white horizon flashes past the windshield at sickening speed and Loop grabs hold of something, anything.

When the truck straightens out, they’re again pointed the way they started. A 360 degree donut maneuver. Jonelis drives down the snowy path grinning and placid as if nothing happened. The guy’s gone psycho!

“Man, I love winter. Here, I’ll show you again.”

“NO!” Loop breathes fast and hard. “ARE YOU CRAZY?

“Sorry Loop. I guess I just enjoy being immune to the elements. This front is supposed to be headed east in a narrow band. We’ll probably break out of it soon.”

Loop shakes his head, grunts, and takes his hand off the sissy bar. Certifiable—the guy’s certifiable. On pure reflex, he balls his powerful hands into fists and utters a silent prayer for a different ride home. But what’s he gonna do now—walk? He drops his chin to his chest and quietly moans.

John reaches across and pats his shoulder. “Loop, you’re a bundle of nerves. Get control of yourself or you’ll be useless during the hunt.”

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Soggy bottom

Further south, they break out of the winter storm, just as forecast. The sun bursts through the clouds. Now it’s leftover snow banks and soggy ice-water puddles.

So they’re gonna live after all.

And Loop’s brand new Gore-Tex boots will prove a good investment today. He likes good investments and for the first time feels a twinge of optimism about this excursion.

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At the Club

Everybody’s in the clubhouse. But Loop still sits in the parking lot, staring out at a field, trying to ease his racing heart.

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Hunting field

All his life, he’s feared nothing, but that truck ride riled him up bad. Now he tastes bile. He swallows hard. Slows his breathing. Gotta focus on what happens next.

He goes over his fears one by one. What if he can’t hit what he aims at? What if he accidentally shoots another hunter? Or worse, a dog? These guys might forgive the first, but never the second. They spend way too much time training those little mutts.

Funny—none of that seems like such a big deal any more—not since the boss pulled that donut stunt. For the first time, Loop cracks a smile.

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Zeke on point

When he steps out of the truck, his new boots sink into mud and gravel. This sure ain’t the streets of the big city. He opens the tailgate and rummages through his gear, slips on a borrowed blaze orange hat, a borrowed blaze orange hunting vest, and dumps a borrowed box of twenty five high-brass #5 shells in the big pockets.

Slowly unzipping a soft camo gun case, he hefts a borrowed 12-gauge side-by-side, replete with elegant scrollwork and Turkish walnut stock. This is a heavy and absolutely gorgeous field piece. It’s gotta take guts to lend $3,500 worth of the gunsmith’s art to a sloppy amateur.

He works the safety and practices loading shells. Loop has never actually fired a shotgun and his doubts run wild. Sure, he aims a rifle or maybe his favorite Smith & Wesson Shield at stationary targets. But from what he’s heard, this sport sounds more like baseball or maybe even golf than the gun range.

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Practice

He practices mounting the shotgun one last time, swinging the muzzle past a nearby stand of trees, following through after each imaginary shot—just like they told him. It feels smooth and surprisingly natural. The stock fits him well.

“Okay, dat’s DAT! Time t’ face da music.”

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Clubhouse

Inside, Loop joins the party lounging around a big table. Introductions fly by him like dry leaves on a high wind, and in this cloud of new ideas he forgets every single hunter’s name. Strange—he remembers what they call all four of the dogs. Loop loves dogs.

Then one of them lays out the ground rules and mechanics of the hunt. It sounds a whole lot more organized than he imagined and he wonders if his 85 lb bull terrier Clamps can be trained to do this.

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Clamps

A sweet gal sits at the table and slides across a mug of beer. “Initiation time!” she says. “We don’t drink before a hunt but you’re new. You get one beer—just one. Afterwards I’ll allow you the pleasure of buying the first round for the rest of us.”

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Some gals hunt

Loop slurps off the foam and downs the lager with relish. He wipes a sleeve across his mouth, and sighs.

Another group of hunters come in from the barbeque grill and offer a plate of pheasant tamales. Loop bites into his. Delicious! Like nothing he ever tasted before.

Now he’s leaning back in his chair. No more pounding heartbeat. Yeah—everything’s gonna be fine. Time for da hunt.

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Killing Fields

The group’s got two large fields today—one next to the other—all to themselves. They form a line and slowly march side-by-side, spaced well apart, dogs running all over the place, sniffing for birds ahead.

It’s almost impossible to see a pheasant running through this grass. But when one hunkers down in the brush, the dog finds it and holds its point until a hunter flushes the bird. A good dog will hold its position till the shot is fired.

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Hunting formation

Today each hunter will log 5 miles over broken ground, rocks, holes, tall grass and brambles, and slog through wet snow and water, but these little dogs each put in at least 15 miles and get wet doing it. They never seem to tire out.

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Exuberant dogs

Loop’s realizes that his bull terrier would plop down for a nap after half a mile. If he ever retrieved a bird, he’d crush and shake it until it was no longer fit for the table. But hey—Clamps is at home in the city, where he belongs. Every dog has his job.

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Clamps in his element

The guy next to him (Rick, Gregg, Bob?—Loop can’t recall) moves ahead of Shiloh’s point, flushes a bird, and fires. The pheasant drops a leg and flutters down about fifty yards away. When the dog retrieves it, the bird is wounded but still alive. The hunter immediately breaks its neck to stop any suffering. All done so precisely. Very neat and clean.

Loop gapes at that rooster in awe. This is what they’re hunting? The color of its plumage takes his breath away. And look at the size of that thing—there’s gotta be alotta good meat on that bird.

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The beautiful pheasant

When the hunter slips it in the game sack at the back of his vest, they continue their march. Loop looks at his elegant field piece and something changes inside of him.

Maybe it’s the sight of blood.

Maybe the finality of the kill.

As boots crunch through the brush, instinct takes a firm hold and his fear and doubt fade to the background. He zones in on his surroundings with a focus more intense than he’s ever experienced. The bite of fresh air. The array of indescribable wild smells. Four dogs running, leaping. Subtle pheasant prints in the snow. A sparrow flock bursts skyward to his left. A hawk circles high overhead. But most of all the dogs. He tries to keep them all in sight. Impossible.

Mud sucks at his boots, and looking ahead, he sees the field entirely drown in snow melt. No way around it. He utters a silent prayer of thanks for Gore-Tex boots, checks the line of his fellow hunters, and adjusts his position.

They slog on to the next snow bank.

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Dry feet

“Duke’s on point! Hey Loop—your turn!” He sees Duke in thick cover just ahead—nose down, teeth clenched, saliva dripping from his mouth. The animal can barely restrain himself. Wow, do these dogs love to hunt! Loop knows a bird hides somewhere within 20 feet.

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Duke on point

He makes his approach and a huge gaudy rooster flushes, cackling as it flies.

He mounts his gun. Swings the muzzle to shoot. Suddenly two dogs run into his sight picture, chasing under the bird. Nope—can’t risk a shot over them. The pheasant glides safely beyond the tree line. Yeah, those dogs broke training, but after all, they’re excited, just like he is. So what? He might still get another chance today. And maybe somebody will take that bird later.

Just like investing, hunting is lots of hope.

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Upland game field

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Hat Trick

One guy is shouting at the white dog named Jack. That one ranges too far and finally breaks with the group to sniff out an area hundreds of yards to the side.  Loop likes Jack best of all the dogs and breaking from the line of hunters, follows him.  He feels one with him and shares the joy of the hunt as if he were an extension of the animal.

When he gets close, the dog is already holding point. Without warning, a rooster takes wing!

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Jack on point

Without stopping to think, Loop swings his shotgun and fires. Bird #1 tumbles into high grass.

Beginner’s luck.

He’s about to search for it when Jack goes on point again. Loop moves ahead of the dog and kicks at a tangle of brush, then he tries another clump. It seems impossible that a big colorful bird can hide here, but Jack’s still holding that point.

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Flushing a pheasant

The pheasant flushes behind his back.

On pure instinct, he wheels and shoots. An explosion of feathers—the bird drops straight to the ground. Loop fired way too soon—way too close. A real waste—not much meat left on that carcass. He chalks it up to inexperience and tells himself to slow down. But that’s bird #2.

Both barrels empty, he pauses to re-load. But Jack is on point again!

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Jack on point again

He moves ahead of the dog, eyes wide open, searching, wanting the kill. The pheasant erupts from the brush and into the sky. This time, he waits for some shooting distance, then the muzzle roars. Bird #3 down!

Three shells, three birds—all in the space of a couple minutes!

A hat trick!

Jack retrieves one bird, then another, his tail wagging. Loop stuffs both in his vest and picks up the one he pulverized by shooting too soon. He glances at his hands, smeared with blood from the ruined bird, and amazingly, it doesn’t bother him. A couple hours ago he wondered if he could pull the trigger and now he doesn’t even want to wipe his hands clean. He reflects that the blood of these birds is a gift. His game pouch bulges out behind and he enjoys the weight of it. He can hardly believe that he gets this privilege—to experience this primal sport and come away with real food. Again, he utters a silent prayer of thanks.

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One for the Road

Giddy from the hunt, Loop heads back toward the group, all his misgivings gone, every emotion urging him to break into dance. For the most part, he restrains himself. Zeke joins up with Jack, and Loop closely watches those two dogs.

He hears hunters call to each other in the woods.

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Jack and Zeke

Two shots! He pivots toward the sound. Two more shots in rapid succession! A pheasant flies out of the trees, fast as it can go, well out of range of the barrage of pellets aimed at its tail.

Before it can fly past him, Loop swings his gun, leads the bird, and fires.

A head shot! It instantly falls out of the sky.

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Zeke retrieves

Zeke retrieves the bird and Loop stows it, feeling a deep satisfaction he’s never known. That’s bird #4—and he’s spent only four shells! Plenty for the day! He won’t fire his shotgun again this trip.

The hunters form ranks and march across another field. And Loop gets treated to an amazing site. Shiloh points a bird. Zeke and Jack honor that point like the well-bred canines they are. How do they train dogs to do that?

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Zeke and Jack honor Shiloh’s point

Loop draws in a lungful of cold air. What a great day! Everybody gets at least three birds. Even John shot birds, but he claims it happened by accident.

On the way in, he pulls out his phone and snaps off a photo of the group.

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Hunting party

Then they head back to the clubhouse to clean up, drink beer, smoke the compulsory cigar, and tell lies.

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Meat on the Table

Back at the lodge, Loop makes a proposal that they all immediately accept. Dinner at his downtown penthouse.

He phones home. “Yeah Meadows—tell Anatole t’ dig out dat recipe fer Pheasant Zummer. I’m brinin’ da birds. And pick out da best wine. Yeah, all da trimmins, too. I’m showin’ up in an hour with seven happy guests in muddy boots!

He hears a professional, Very good sir,” and can hardly wait to experience the joy of a feast with his friends. These aren’t just any birds—these are HIS birds—birds he hunted down alive and killed himself! He’s sure every one of those hunters feel the same way about their kill. And he remembers something John said—words that got him here: “That feeling of satisfaction lasts for days, maybe weeks.”

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By accident?

Loop’s fallen in love with this place. A hunter’s paradise! It’s gotta be one of Chicago’s best startups and he wonders if they need another investor. The place looks prosperous enough. There’s no membership fee—no monthly dues—no volunteer work—you pay for your birds—that’s it. Nice clubhouse and bar. Good fields. Extended season and no bag limit. You can hire a guide and dog here. They even clean your kill. Wanna go?

And he decides to ride home with the same crazy driver that got him here.

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Erienna Hunt Club is located one hour south of downtown Chicago. The season runs from September 1st to April 15th. If you’ve got any primeval instincts left in your modern mind, check it out!

http://www.eriennahuntclub.com/

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Favorite club

 

All photography by John Jonelis and Loop Lonagan, with thanks to all his hunting mentors, especially Gregg Patz, Rick Bohning, and Frank Spellman.

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.
.Copyright © 2017 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved
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TAKING ONE FOR THE TEAM

20161201-_jaj0288tby Mark T Wayne

Howard Brookins Jr, the alderman for Chicago’s 21st ward, was biking along Cal-Sag Trail on Nov. 13, when a squirrel darted into his path. The squirrel wrapped itself in the spokes of the alderman’s bicycle. [The Washington Post.] According to the alderman, “I can think of no other reason for this squirrel’s actions than that it was like a suicide bomber, getting revenge.” [The Chicago Tribune.]

If this is revenge, there is good reason for it. Yes sir! As the Post also reports: “Brookins denounced the eastern gray squirrel in a Chicago City Council meeting and has publicly spoken out about a toothy menace.” He complains of “aggressive squirrels that undermine efforts to overhaul the city’s trash carts.” [Chicago Sun Times] He claims that squirrels are gnawing through garbage cart lids at a cost to the city of $300,000!

According our own Alexander Harbinger PhD, such behavior is perfectly normal. “Like all rodents, the teeth continue to grow during an entire lifetime. It is gnaw or die.”

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Posted on Facebook by Alderman Brookins

As proof of the squirrel’s malicious intent, Alderman Brookings posted a photograph of the unfortunate animal on Facebook, caught in the wheel of his bicycle.

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Closeup of Brooking’s dead squirrel

Brookins did not escape injury from the ferocious creature’s attack. “The alderman flipped over the handlebars, fractured his skull, broke his nose, and knocked out a handful of teeth.” [Tribune]

The remedy proposed is extermination of all urban squirrels.

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Mark T Wayne

Revenge of the Squirrels

Of course, when faced with annihilation, any red-blooded squirrel is compelled to take action! Who can find it in their heart to condemn this animal?  But for the protection of the residents of our fair city, we must guard against further malevolent behavior perpetrated by these scheming creatures.

So far, this activity appears unique to the gray squirrels in Brookins’ 21st Ward.  The implications are startling and frightening.  These particular animals exhibit traits that must not be permitted to spread.

  • Brookins’ squirrels take a keen interest in civic matters and monitor city council meetings.
  • When action is required, Brookins’ squirrels organize in secret and plot the required counter-attack.
  • In this case, one squirrel soldier carries out a kamikaze raid on a leading enemy, Alderman Howard Brookins.

Jim Kren, our assistant editor, offered this opinion: “Squirrels are good-for-nothing vermin. They look out for their kind and know who is persecuting them. If you thwart their plans, they figure a way to take care of the problem. Nothing can stop them from getting what they want!”

But renowned squirrel expert, B. A. Christie MLS, holds a different view. “Squirrels are attractive, with fine coats and tails—a benefit to any neighborhood. They are strong, brave, loyal, intelligent, entertaining, and acrobatic. Squirrels prune and plant trees. And tough? I saw one fall fifty feet to the pavement—but after a few minutes, the little dear just hopped to its feet and ran off. Every levelheaded individual knows that squirrels are friendly. I believe Bill Murray said so in a motion picture.”

No, I am not entirely satisfied with the alderman’s flippant slur against these creatures. Nor do I entirely agree with the other opinions ventured damning them. No sir! Permit me to propose a few alternative theories on the matter:

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Greedy Guts the squirrel, outside my window

Cruelty to Animals Theory

Does it not seem a whole lot more believable to you that this squirrel lodged in the spokes of the good alderman’s bicycle during his hightly successful attempt to run it down? A fat squirrel lounging on a path can present a tempting target to certain personality types, and such behavior may seem quite natural to a politician, particularly an alderman. Has Brookins intentionally misrepresented the facts and blamed the true victim for the consequenses of his personal indulgence in an urban blood sport?

One strong indication of the veracity of this theory is seen in the alderman’s photograph. The squirrel is lodged in the front wheel, which indicates an attack by the alderman, not the squirrel. If, on the other hand, the animal lodged in the rear wheel, the alderman’s story might carry some weight.  Take dogs as an example.  Dogs are known to snap at automobile tires and invariably go for the rear wheel. It’s a question of catching the vehicle as it speeds by. Perhaps the ASPCA should investigate the matter. The evidence is clearly on display in the photograph published by the man himself!

 

Guilt by Association Theory

Squirrels will eat just about anything, and have been known to forage during daylight hours, when they find trash conveniently strewn about—but they do not do so at night! They sleep at night. Does the timid squirrel gnaw through a garbage can in broad daylight, vulnerably exposing its hide to every kind of predator for an extended period of time? No sir! The thought seems akin to a neighborhood bunny rabbit attacking a Pit Bull in the act of sullying somebody’s front lawn!

Nighttime is the rat’s domain, not the squirrel’s. Nighttime is the likely period for damage to ensue. Could it be that, during the daylight hours, the alderman observed some squirrels in the civic-minded act of cleaning up the nocturnal mess left by sloppy rats? This is guilt by association of the worst kind! Both are rodents, but the similarity ends there! I propose that we are dealing with an unsuccessful rat control problem.  That is where the battle must be fought.

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Greedy Guts gets fed

Mistaken Identity Theory

Permit me to relate a perplexing personal incident. After one fine Christmas afternoon dinner, I noted a scurry of cold and hungry squirrels—sweet, harmless, and industrious animals that every normal person loves. My wife calls the big one Greedy Guts—an admirable fellow, in my opinion. I slid open the window and tossed out a handful of peanuts to the little beggar. Little did I know that my benevolence would provoke a strong reaction from my houseguest.

Jim Kren, our guest, turned violently red and spoke in loud and vitriolic indignation, “You feed those rats?” This man hails from an affluent tree-lined neighborhood teeming with a large and healthy squirrel population. Imagine his constant horror, living in such exquisite surroundings and unable to distinguish a squirrel from other rodentia. Unbearable! It explains that nervous tick.

For those that share Kren’s malady, permit me to quell such unwarranted and hysterical fears:

  • Rats hide in dark, filthy places—squirrels live in trees.
  • Rats carry rabies—squirrels do not.
  • Squirrels behave more like neighborhood bunny rabbits.

 

Scapegoat Theory

As noted, Brooking’s 21st ward appears to be the only area of Chicago suffering squirrel damage. No other alderman or city councilman has taken up the cause. That raises some questions. I own a home in the country. Its peaceful environs swarm with squirrels, rabbits, hawks, turkey vultures, and deer. Yet our garbage bin remains intact. How can this be? Are the alderman’s cans of less quality than others? Impossible! Those receptacles reportedly cost the city hundreds of thousands of tax dollars! Is it possible that squirrels are a scapegoat for some sort of political shenanigans? I put it to you, sir! Chicagoans have learned to accept business-as-usual in our longstanding tradition of machine politics as long as one keeps quiet about it. There is no call to harm the wildlife.

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A squirrel is not a rat

Noble Savage Theory

But what if Alderman Brookins’ allegations were true?  Could it be that we are witnessing an altruistic and noble example of squireldom? Yes sir! Such an image of heroic sacrifice warms my heart. Faced with the the personal hatred and vendetta of one malevolent alderman—faced with the annihilation of family and friends—faced with the end of a way-of-life-as-he-knows-it—one of Chicago’s bravest takes matters into his own paws.  He takes one for the team!

 

Mr. Wayne’s speculations are his own and do not always represent the opinions of this journal.

Image Credits: Bicycle photo by Alderman Howard Brookins. All other nature photography by John Jonelis.

 

Sources

Washington Post – ‘Suicide bomber’ squirrel hospitalizes Chicago politician who spoke out against squirrels

Chicago Tribune Kamikaze squirrel gets revenge on Ald. Brookins

Chicago Sun Times – Alderman says ‘aggressive squirrels’ eating through garbage carts

 

Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2016 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under Characters, Chicago Venture Magazine, city, Conflict, Education, gentrification of the city, Jim Kren, Mark T Wayne

ALIEN ABDUCTS FISH, THROWS FISHERMAN BACK

20161004-_jajdscn0159tby Jim Kren

Avid fisherman John Jonelis was enjoying some late night fly-fishing on the Pere Marquette River in Michigan when he had a close encounter with something not swimming upstream.

“I’m casting a fly called a Crystal Bullet with a number 4 hook on a sink tip,” said Jonelis. “This beautiful Chinook Salmon practically bends my number 10 Recon in half but after about an hour, I land it. Al snaps a picture, then all this happens. Me and my salmon get lifted by a glowing ray into some giant saucer-like ship that smells of fish inside.”

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Taken moments before alien abduction – Photo by Al Faleskin

“A tiny man in a silver suit approaches me carrying a long stick with knobs and buttons. He points it at me and the salmon I caught, and babbles something I can’t understand. Then in a flash, I drop like a lead sinker back in the river. But the alien keeps my fish!

“I think those aliens are fishing with some kinda tractor beam.” said Jonelis  “That’s not sporting and it’s against the regs for sure.”  

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Pere Marquette River, Michigan

Jonelis was found by his fellow fishermen at 5:00 am the next morning and carried back to Bueter’s Salmon Camp. His fishing partners, Al Faleskin and Bob Paine, were not available for comment.

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Small flies, big fish

John Bueter examined Jonelis. “He was soaked through and babbling about losing the big one and space aliens and whatnot, and still trying to cast even though he lost his fly and tippet and was sitting at a picnic table. I’ve seen fishermen act like that before, so I administered a stiff belt of Wild Turkey bourbon. Someone should let those spacemen know it’s catch-and-release around here. The warden will get after them if they don’t throw their fish back. He could confiscate their ship.”

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Taken the following day

Even after losing his salmon, Jonelis displayed an upbeat attitude. “The fishing’s great—and it’s an easy drive from Chicago!  I’m definitely coming back every year. I just hope those aliens catch their own fish next time.  They shouldn’t steal mine—that’s just not the way fishermen treat each other.”

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Jonelis’ classic Eureka Timberline

Jonelis refused any more questions and retired to his tent with the bottle of Wild Turkey. “He’ll be okay after he sleeps it off,” said Bueter. “I’ve seen it before. A good fisherman always gets back at it.”

Also read – HOW TO TREAT THE OLD MAN

WARNING: Angling is addictive and expensive can be hazardous to your health. Please fish responsibly.

Bueter’s Salmon Camp runs every year, the last weekend of September and sometimes the following weekend too. It’s walking distance from Bueter’s Cloud 9 Resort and an easy day’s drive from Chicago.

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Bueter’s Salmon Camp

For more information, contact John Bueter: j.bueter@sbcglobal.net

Cloud 9 Resort, 3360 S M-37, Baldwin, Michigan 49304, phone 231-745-3070 www.cloud9baldwin.com

Read a great article on Bueter’s Salmon Camp.  Also Bueter’s Salmon Camp Facebook Page Then see more Salmon Camp on Facebook

 

Image credits, Al Faleskin, John Jonelis.


Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2016 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Comments Off on ALIEN ABDUCTS FISH, THROWS FISHERMAN BACK

Filed under angel, Characters, chicago, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, Fishing, fly fishing, Information, investor, pike fishing, salmon fishing, Social Entrepreneur, Social Media, the great outdoors

THE SAY/DO RATIO

Jack 2by John Jonelis

You lose him. Jack Heyden was your father, your brother, maybe your son. A deep, intimate relationship. You know his profession—not the details, just what he did for a living. Normal so far. Then things start to turn.

His business colleagues invite the family here, and you all come, nerves raw from the shock that death brings. You arrive early, numb from the flurry of duties, people, and rituals that clutter such times and obediently take your seats in front, gazing about the room.

You have no idea what to expect.

 

A Place for Ideas

One thing’s certain—this doesn’t look like a place of business. The walls burst out with a massive and eclectic assortment of memorabilia. It’s visually overwhelming and you need just one place to anchor for the first time in days.

Perhaps you select a photograph, a poster, a toy on on a shelf, and focus on that. It makes you think. You wonder why Jack always spent his Saturday mornings here when the family wanted him at home.

20160726-Joe Levy - Flintmobile 500

The Flintmobile

The atmosphere is the genius of Joe Levy, one of Chicago’s prolific entrepreneurs and philanthropists, who started this group about 60 years ago. The assortment of unique items stretches from Joe’s early days—before they started naming streets and buildings after him. Business people meet in this hodgepodge every week, air opinions, ideas, and stimulate thought, and much of the collection speaks directly about luminaries in this group.

Joe Levy by Natan Mandell

Joe Levy

Before you fully collect yourself, over 30 professionals take seats facing you. This is the Levy Group, that boasts some of the most brilliant business thinkers in Chicago. Jack Heyden was their leader. Today, they’re here for Jack and for you. Unusual, right?

QUESTION: Is the way you conduct business meaningful to those left behind?

 

Who is Jack?

The moderator calls the meeting to order: “We lost a friend this week. Jack led this group for 20 years.” Many in the group sigh and nod and he turns to the family. “And maybe you didn’t know what’s special about this room that kept him coming back.”

The moderator singles out Jack’s son. “Why don’t you introduce the family? And then we’ll have Jack’s Saturday morning family introduce him to you.”

 

The Son

Your dad invited you to these meetings, so you’re the one member of the family with an understanding of what this means. Everyone in the room is with you in spirit as you halt for a painful moment, then begin to talk: “It’s easier to speak at a funeral than in front of you guys,” you say, choking back emotions. “He loved this so much.”

Then you indicate your family: “I’m looking forward to hearing afterwards what they thought this was really going to look like.” Everybody quietly laughs.

“Normally you guys start with introductions and an elevator pitch. Dad would always say, ‘I’m Jack Heyden and I help leaders win,’ and today, my best elevator pitch is—‘I’m just the son of Jack Heyden.’”

 

The Group

After the applause, the moderator calls on individuals via some hidden, efficient system, and they testify about Jack one by one:

  • “When I first came to this group, I looked around at these eclectic surroundings and said to myself, ‘Okay, there’s gonna be a lotta character in this group.’ One thing was magnetic—one of the big differentiators—it was Jack. He’s very to-the-point and structured and it was always very productively efficient, always in a good vein and in a good way. How impressed I was! That made me want to come back and give back. As you grow older there are two sets of people you meet at a very high level. Those that you admire for whatever reason, be it charm, achievement, financial success. But there are very few people you want to model. There’s something about this person—what they do, how they interact—I want to deconstruct it and figure out how I can absorb it into what I do, how I interact with people. Jack is one of the people about whom I’ve said, ‘I want to model this guy.’”
  • “In life, you meet a lot of people. When they say things, you think, ‘…Uh huh.’ But when Jack said it you really understood what he meant, then he showed you how to do it.”
  • “He always talked about the ‘Say/Do Ratio.’ Successful people have an incredible Say-Do Ratio. Don’t say things to your family, to your co-workers and clients and not follow through. If you say something, do it.”
  • “Whoever he was with, he gave 100% of his attention.”
  • “The first thing when I came to any meeting, he’d give me this big giant smile, whether it was last week or six months since I’d been here.”
  • “At an event, Jack asked me to introduce some of my friends because he wasn’t sure he’d know anyone. I figured, okay, he’s done so much for me and he’s bound to know someone. Pretty soon there’s a gathering at our table. It appears that Jack was the hub of a wheel—and some of the spokes didn’t know each other. So Jack spent the evening introducing me to all the spokes I didn’t know.”
  • “When I started coming, it was a low time in my business life. I’d say, ‘I’m a member of the CIO—‘Everybody I see I owe.’ And Jack was so welcoming. ‘I’m so happy to meet you. I’m so glad you’re here,’ and I’m looking over my shoulder like, ‘You’re talking to me?’”
  • “I grew up with giants in my industry. Since I’ve left, I’ve met a few people I consider giants. Jack was that leader. We all looked up to him.”
  • “Like all first companies, mine was a struggle. Jack said he’d come to my office and talk. He wound up interviewing all seven of my employees. He came back with this big document that showed, here’s the guy that does this and the gal that does that and here’s what needs to happen. He was spot-on. When he came to me for help on technology, we had that going. So we had a relationship.”
  • “When he put on his mentor’s hat, he’d say, ‘You got 10 minutes. Tell me why I should spend more time with you.’ He was trying to draw you out.”
  • “When I joined this group, I had a lot of patents. I mentioned to Jack that the odds of a little guy commercializing a patent are about 3%. Jack said, ‘Don’t think about the obstacles.’”
  • “I looked very hard for a word that encompasses what Jack was. The word I found is “Olympian.’ Jack was above the crowd. A wonderful thinker. Very important to me as I consulted with him many times. I can’t say enough about him. To me, he’s a towering presence.”
  • “I asked him to have breakfast and talk over a problem I had. His advice was really outside the box. I had not realized the wealth of experience he had—what you had to do next and how to deal with that—and I said, “Wow, this is good, Jack!”
  • “I’m very fortunate in my life to have great mentors at a very high level. Jack was of that calibre.”
  • “In a few days it will be the second anniversary of my wife’s sudden death. Jack sat in the back yard with me talking with me about the tree house, his problem with the landscapers, and he took me to a level of understanding that life goes on.”
  • “A man who was very giving. He helped people understand what they were and what they could do. Gregarious people can give cheer, but they don’t have that depth. And it’s that depth of character we all really embrace.”
  • “I had a great affection for Jack. I feel honored to be here.”
  • “I wanna make a difference. I think that’s what Jack looked forward to every day.”

The moderator stands to close the meeting. “We’re hearing stories about how giving and how public and how embracing he was. One of the things I found remarkable about Jack—he would not let us know how sick he really was.

It wasn’t an issue. He was gonna be here. He was here 4 weeks ago—strong, present. He was a very sick man at this particular point but he did not let it be known. Being for the other person is very, very powerful. And that’s what this group’s all about—giving and sharing.”

QUESTION: Is the way you treat people meaningful to those left behind?

 

 

Graphics courtesy Joe Levy, Nathan Mandell, and the Jack Heyden family.

Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2016 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under Big Corporations, Characters, chicago, Chicago Ventures, Consulting, Education, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, Mastermind Group, new companies, philanthropist, philanthropy, Social Entrepreneur

THROW THE BUM OUT

Mark T Wayne 1cTby John Jonelis

Mark T Wayne hurls his cigar to the barroom floor and grinds it under his heel. “Lonagan, you’re a consummate ass!”

“Shuttup ‘n’ have anudder whiskey.”

“You sir are heavily inebriated.” Wayne’s voice resonates above the noise of the crowded bar.  “I know better than to get tight oftener than once in three months.” He lifts his chin and peers down his nose at Loop Lonagan. “It sets a man back in the esteem of people whose opinions are worth having.”

“So whaddayuh think I should do?” His dog, Clamps, squirms in his arms and kicks wildly as Loop wrestles to gain a better hold on the 85 pound bull terrier.  He finally locks an arm around the animal’s thick neck.  Clamps immediately relaxes, bone in mouth. “Look Wayne—yer da one said I oughta take da guy in.  So you tell me how t’ get ‘im out.”

“Hmm…yes, I see your point. Options are a bit scarce at such times.  Your editor shows up at the door leaning on two canes, a bit unsteady on two new metal knees.  Never refuse to do a kindness, unless the act will work great injury to yourself—especially when it’s a close friend and your employer.” Wayne pauses a moment and inspects Lonagan more closely.  “But five months have elapsed since that day, and now I find myself sharing this fine bar with a sloppy drunk—a man utterly beyond reason or decorum, hugging a dangerous beast to his body like a rag doll.”

Loop plays with his dog’s ears.  “The police don’t want poor Clamps tied at da curb again.  Dey say he might eat a pedestrian.”

Therapy Dog

Therapy Dog

“Don’t blow smoke rings, Lonogan! There is only one course of action left to you! Claim back your domicile!  Throw the execrable bum out!”

“Throw out Jonelis?”

“That, sir, is precisely what I say.”

Loop Lonagan slowly wags his head. “He’ll throw me outa da magazine. Then where am I?  Gone, like a puff o’ smoke.”

“Where is your spine, sir? Can it be that abusive over-exposure to bitter hops has eroded it in total?  Look at you, stroking that hideous beast as if it were some lovely young woman.  Is that the proper posture for a grown man while seriously drinking?  Get ahold of yourself!  I say put the moocher out on the street!”

“Don’t ya think I tried? Sheesh, he moves right in with dat new therapy business.  Pavlovian PT he calls it.  Gals right outa some Hollywood movie swarmin’ all over da joint.  I can’t get no peace er sleep.  He fills my penthouse with exercise machines.  And busy? If he ain’t liftin’ weights, he’s gettin’ a Swedish massage or an ice pack or he’s loopy on pain killers, and then he’s asleep er somepin. Can’t hardly talk t’ da guy. When I do, I dunno what t’ say.”  Loop squeezes his eyes closed a moment.  “Today dis crew shows up t’ move da resta my furniture out da door—where to, I dunno.  More weight machines is comin’ in!  Yeah, Jonelis finally graduates therapy.  It’s strength trainin’ from now on!  So insteada my nice penthouse condo, I got a swank health club.”  Loop swallows a shot of scotch and immediately chases it with a slug of beer.  The pungent amber liquid dribbles down his jaw.

Mark T Wayne 1d Bold

Mark T Wayne

Wayne scowls at him. “You, sir, are mixing good medicine with poison. Give an Irishman lager for a month and he’s a dead man. An Irishman is lined with copper, and beer corrodes it. But whiskey polishes the copper and is the saving of him.  You’ll do well without that swill.”

“Dat’s da best idea you come up with since I knowed you. No wonder my belly’s naggin’ at me.  Bartender!”  Lonagan shifts his dog so it can lap beer from his mug.  Clamps knocks it over and yellow suds run down the counter.  The dog leaps onto the bar and voraciously polishes the wet varnished surface with a wide tongue.

Loop lifts the animal from the bar and hugs it close.  “Bartender! Gimme anudder scotch.  Make it a triple.  No more Blatz fer me!”

A muscular kid shows up with a towel and mops up the smelly mess while glaring at Loop under thick black eyebrows. He talks in a low voice with clenched teeth: “What’s with the dog?”

Loop makes an indignant expression. “It’s a therapy animal. You got a problem with that?” 

A long scar on the kid’s cheek flames red. “Hold down the noise, mister, or you and and your dog and the guy with the white suit are outa here. Y’ follah?

“Big talk—yadda yadda yadda.  Y’ gonna back it up?”

The bartender abruptly moves down the bar and serves another customer while Loop raises the fresh tumbler of whiskey.

Wayne’s finger idly traces the rim of his empty glass.  “Certainly the Drone’s Club is near at hand.  I believe they offer a gymnasium.  You might mention the possibility.”

“Yeah, yeah, but dey won’t let ‘im bring in his Pavlovian PT team. Same with East Bank, Union League, ‘n’ all da udders.  He’s too cheap t’ buy all them gals memberships.”

Both men stare into space. This goes on for a good two minutes as the noise of the crowd swells around them.

“Ah! A thought occurs to me…” Mark T Wayne draws himself erect, yanks his white lapels, and takes a step as if lecturing an audience, “Your domestic problem is transparently simple. Argue with the man!  Pick a fight!”

“How’s a guy gonna do that? Jonelis treats ever’body so nice—so polite.  No a harsh words, No foul language.  No nothin’”

“Shout him down! You need not be logical or coherent, nor do you require provocation.  Drown him in curses at high volume!  If that brings no response, I happen to know that you are skilled in the fine art of fisticuffs.  Pummel the man with blows!  Violence, sir!  That’s the ticket!  Beat him senseless!”

“C’mon Wayne, he’s just outa surgery ‘n’ all…”

“That man is gaining health by the day as you lose yours!”

Loop Lonagan goes suddenly quiet and rubs his chin with a blunt fingertip. He drops Clamps to the floor and the dog immediately strains the limit of a heavy leather lead, lashed to the stanchion of the barstool.  People immediately abandon the area adjacent to Lonagan and Wayne.  The dog pants with teeth fully exposed, tongue lolling outhis way of smiling but people shrink back, forming a big empty circle.

After a minute, Loop pulls out a cell phone.  “Hey Nick? It’s me.  Remember our talk?  Well, what about it?”  Loop rolls his eyes as he listens.  “Yeah…yeah. Okay! Done!”  He pockets the phone and grins a satisfied grin. “I’m takin’ yer advice.  If Jonelis fires me, you’ll find me right here.”  He moves his arm in a sweeping gesture.  “Dis whole place is mine now.”  

READ SERIES FROM BEGINNING

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Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2016 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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Filed under angel, angel capital, angel investor, Characters, Chicago Ventures, Entrepreneur, Entrepreneurship, loop lonagan, Mark T Wayne, vc, venture capital

THIS AIN’T NO LEMONADE STAND

20160402_143634-JAJ TLoop Lonagan—Verbatim

What if y’could combat starvation by producin’ yer own meat ‘n potatoes—and do it right at da local food bank? Hey, I’m lookin’ at a real working prototype here. What about a solution to student debt? Or, maybe fer yer next birthday party, ever’body plays laser tag with drones? Or learns music real fast? Or gets a little help rememberin’ stuff. I can use summa that.

This ain’t no lemonade stand—I’m talkin’ serious business ventures here. One of ‘em launched her company this year and raised $250K in revenue already. Yeah, you heard right—a quarter million bucks. IMG_6636And she’s a high school sophomore! They’s ALL high school students! This is POWER PITCH, ‘n’ we’re at IMSA—the Illinois Math ‘n’ Science Academy. Real smart kids go here. I never seen nothin’ like it—all I remember about high school is gettin’ in trouble all da time.

I sure hope John’s cleanin’ up my language before he prints this stuff.

Editor’s Note—This is a verbatim transcript. It is the policy of this journal to do each writer justice. I might point out that Lonagan doesn’t give himself enough credit. He graduated the University of Chicago with a Masters in Finance.

20160402_143634-JAJ

We got almost 40 teams pitchin’ here, and they’s all real professional-like. One o’ da mentors flew in all the way from Silicon Valley ‘n’ spent days ‘n’ days coachin-up deeze kids. They musta worked their little tails off. DSC_0055Another thing I notice—seems like nowadays, kids wanna do somethin’ good fer da world, insteada da usual greed ‘n’ avarice.

They’s buildin’ a whole wing o’ da school—exclusive fer startups. And today’s winners get thousands in prize money.

Jonelis invited a couple o’ the judges ‘n’ I don’t know why he picked me but I’m glad he did. I mean, c’mon—how can a guy pass up somethin’ like this?

DSC_0052Sixteen of us is tryin’ t’ pick da best o’ da best. Alotta these judges is big-time professional investors I know personal-like, ‘n’ I hear ‘em sayin’ stuff like, “Deeze pitches here is better den downtown.” Sheesh, I feel like a kid in a candy store. I mean, yer lookin’ at da hope o’ tomorrow! And it happens every year!

Just take a glimpse at summa deeze startups. I put ‘em in alphabetic’ order I think. And lemme say thanks t’ Carl Heine who runs dis thing. And Jim Gerry who’s retired but can’t stay away. And Britta McKenna who’s da Chief Innovation Officer. Naturally they’s all PhDs.

20160402_142354-JAJ

Tech Ventures

  • Drone Wars—Having fun with flying laser robots—Max Orr
  • FlashFun—The Personalized Concierge in the palm of your hand—Palak Agarwal
  • Flock—A free and efficient social media platform for easily getting together with your friends—Ben Maher, Timur Javid, Michael Dow, Shrey Patel
  • HeadsUp—A projectable HUD purposed to prevent distracted driving-based accidents by keeping drivers’ eyes up and on the road—Sneha Pathuri, Ian Anderson, Andriy Sheptunov, Xinyu Guan
  • Icosadeck—Icosadeck reinvents the flashcard, making it multi-sided and adding other features to let students note more information, with more organization, and more efficiency—Gunwati Agrawal
  • NoteHub—A Website where students can buy and sell their school notes—Katreena Subramanian, Devan Grover
  • Peanut Butter—Peanut Butter motivates Millennial employees by offering a unique benefit that reduces their student debt—Aneesh Kudaravalli, Tyler StockIMG_6631
  • RemindMe—You shouldn’t have to remind yourself to remember – RemindMe is a smart phone app that uses proven techniques in memory research to help you retain information longer and retrieve it faster—Ahana Narayanan
  • Right Glow—Right Glow is a silicone bathmat that when stepped on glows red, providing the user with a light source that does not cause the temporary blinding sensation associated with turning on a light late at night—Luke Morrical
  • Snowflake—An Automatic, not manual, fridge inventory keeper and recipe recommender—Xinyu Guan, Andriy Sheptunov
  • Vestal—Social platform where you interact with other in Virtual Reality using just a smart phone and a viewer—Isabel Lee
  • XYZone—Improve your pitching accuracy with the only 3D Strike Zone—Hector Correa

Social Ventures

  • AquaFood—A permaculture company proposing aquaponics as a biotechnological solution to combat starvation and environmental problems in your own neighborhood and in the world—Erol IkizIMG_6659
  • Blabl—A mobile application that engages speech impaired children in conversation with a virtual pen-pal—Ayan Agarwal
  • HydroHero—Generate water for the people—George Moe
  • Pass Your Plate—Pass Your Plate helps businesses by taking their waste food and donating it to shelters in the area—Aneesh Kudaravalli, Tyler Stock, Shana Farhang
  • SelfHealth—SelfHealth is a system that puts you in control of your own medical information—Alex Orlov
  • SirenAlert—SirenAlert, is developing a Bluetooth app and signal monitoring hardware to help emergency vehicles avoid traffic collisions and improve response time by alerting even the most distracted drivers, saving lives—John Valin
  • SocialGood—SocialGood translates social media activity into charitable donations utilizing social media activity—Vainius NormantasIMG_6637
  • Thinkubator—Thinkubator is a co-curricular program that challenges students to think & solve pressing community issues, for graduation-required service hours—Sivam Bhatt and Nabeel Rashee
  • The Muzic Academy—It will only take a minuet to learn, but what you learn will last a lifetime—Abinaya Ramakrishnan

Other Ventures

  • AlertIsabella Ginnett, Ashritha Karuturi, Priya Kumar
  • Ask Me 101Rishi Modi, AJ Federici
  • CirclesJulian Litvak
  • FunkyPlantsAkshay Verma
  • InspireEsther Mathew, Amahlia SuDSC_0036
  • LinguLucy Liu and Rebecca Xun
  • LoopNicholas Rodriguez, Isaac Adorno
  • LynxAllAnkit Agarwal, Sweta Kotha
  • MusiWebMaya Wlodarczyk
  • OmNoteClaudia Zhu
  • PoweritForwardShriya Chennuru, Harshita Degala
  • SlipTieSushil Upadhyayula, Pranav Upadhyayula
  • Spatio StationMarc Peczka
  • SugarSmart!Aimee van den Berg, Kate Rabideau, Pranav Narayanan, Abhay Gupta
  • The CommunityMadison Mack

Also read – RAW TALENT

Contact IMSA’s Britta McKenna at bmckenna@imsa.edu

Photo credits – IMSA & John Jonelis

Chicago Venture Magazine is a publication of Nathaniel Press www.ChicagoVentureMagazine.com Comments and re-posts in full or in part are welcomed and encouraged if accompanied by attribution and a web link. This is not investment advice. We do not guarantee accuracy. It’s not our fault if you lose money.

.Copyright © 2016 John Jonelis – All Rights Reserved

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KILLER SHILLER

John Jonelis


Robert Shiller TAt Loop Lonagan’s urging, I’m walking his 85 pound bull terrier Clamps down the hard Chicago winter pavement. I don’t mind because it’s an opportunity to road test my two knee replacements.  That’s right; I’m the happy product of the wonders of modern orthopedic carpentry!  And I enjoy the best physical therapy known to man because I own the company!

Old Donatas Ludditis flanks my other side to make sure I don’t slip on a stray patch of ice. Despite my upbeat attitude, I hold Clamp’s heavy leather leash with some trepidation.  In my condition, I seriously doubt my ability to control such a large and volatile animal.

DSC04929e500

Clamps

I ask Loop why he insisted on this excursion.

“Hadda break you outa that place. Dem physical therapy gals is controllin’ yer whole life.  And we got business t’ discuss.  Ain’t that right, Don? ”

Old Man Ludditis slowly nods. “You listen to what he say. In old country we obey elders, not women.”

I can’t imagine anybody more elderly than Don but I object: “Everybody says my recovery is going so well.”

Don lays a hand gently across my shoulder, as if taking me into his confidence. “John, I know you invest big in this physical therapy company…but it not right.”

“Phooey! All the employees of Pavlovian PT are extremely lovely young ladies—” I catch my blunder and quickly shift gears. “I mean highly skilled physical therapists.”

Don sadly shakes his head. “John, it not look good. It seem—how you say—immoral.”

“It does plenty for my morale.”

Lonagan sighs. “Dem females got you completely bamboozled.   Yer prob’ly takin’ enough Norco so’s you don’t notice.  Brain’s like mush.  So lemme lay it out fer ya, okay? 

  • “That nutritionist feeds you fulla nothin’ but vegetables ‘n’ health food supplements. Doncha even notice what yer eatin’? Today, we’s gonna get ourselves some thick juicy steaks. How’s about that?
  • “Then there’s that Asian beauty twists ya into a pretzel twice a day ‘n’ yer too numb ‘n’ googoo eyed t’ feel any pain. C’mon, admit it—yer putty in her hands. So it ain’t yer brains behind this deal. What does that leave us with?
  • “Then that knockout Swedish masseuse gives you a hot bath ‘n’ rub down. Hoo boy, I ain’t sure I can take any more ‘o dis.

“I deeply resent these lewd insinuations.  Nothing improper is going on.”

“Resent away, John. Sheesh—I betcha never give business er economics a thought.  Prob’ly fer weeks.  Get my drift?”

He’s got me there. Economics definitely hasn’t crossed my mind at all.

Clamps lunges at a bright green Lexus sedan.  Probably targeting a tire. I haul back on the leash and quickly lose my balance.  Lonagan grabs the lead and lifts me by the collar before I tip over.  A broad smile spreads over his mug.

“But now we’s free, John boy! Take a deep breath! We can talk ‘bout anything youse guys want.  And get some real food!”

“Yah,” says Don.  “Good talk. Good food.  This is place.”

We’re at Michael Jordan’s Steak House.

“Just hook Clamp’s lead over that post.” Lonagan points toward the curb where cars whoosh past on Michigan Avenue.

“Loop, this is a rare and valuable animal. Somebody will steal him.”

“Can’t take ‘im inside. It’ll be okay.” 

We leave the dog at the curb, get ushered to comfortable red leather seats, and immediately order our steaks.

Loop leans back, takes a healthy sip of beer, and exhales in satisfaction—a clear signal he’s opening up a topic of conversation. “I saw Robert Shiller talk the other day. Big deal economist.  Know the guy?”

Robert Shiller

Robert Shiller – from Wikipedia

It takes me a moment. “Uh…financial guru? Yale, I think.  Nobel prize in econ?”

Don: “He share prize with Eugene Fama and Lars Peter Hansen. They—both of them—University Chicago boys.”

Loop slams his empty glass to the table. “Them guys never agree on nothin’. Fama gave us that crazy Perfect Market Hypothosis.”  He spins his index finger around his temple—an unmistakable and insulting gesture.

I lean back to enjoy the fireworks.

Ludditis raises his voice a notch. “Perfect Market Theory—it settled science

Loop: “Well, I guess a guy’s gotta believe in somethin’. I hate t’ contradict a good Chicago boy but that theory is a load o’ bunk.”

Don: “Big finance thinkers—they all say is true.”

Loop: “Only in universities ‘n’ now Shiller proved otherwise. Da big brokers ‘n’ traders always knew better.  It’s so stupid, it’s—” 

Loop stops. Cocks his head.  Switches to a conciliatory tone. “Okay Don—why doncha explain it to us in simple terms, so’s we understand?”

Don raises himself erect in his chair. “I try. With you, is not so easy.  I give example:  Once upon time, news come out on certain stock.  Investors, they predict it go up.  Everybody buy.  Drive up price.  Stock no longer good value.  Fall again.  Price chart show no logic or reason—what they call Random Walk.”

“Bullshit!” Loop’s thick fist pounds our heavy table and beer sloshes out of my glass.  “Sure they drive up da price.  It’s a determined strategy.  Once that happens, the trade is done, ‘n’ all da smart money is already out with fat gains leavin’ da retail crowd high ‘n’ dry.  Markets move due t’ aggression.  It ain’t some disconnected perfect market.   Real traders profit in real dollars. 

“But now that’s changing too. Da High Freaks—I mean da big brokerage houses—is tradin’ with powerful computer algorithms, in ‘n’ out in miliseconds.  Hell, they make over 70% of the volume ever’where ya look.  They pushed all da floor traders off the edge of the world.  Kaput!  Short term gets killed off by shorter term ‘n’ da universities still say it don’t exist!”

Me: “That’s why you switched to private equity?”

“Yeah, I saw it comin’ years ago.” Loop shows both palms.  “But I still wanna talk about Bob Shiller.

S&P Price Earnings, Div, Int from Irrational Exuberance Shiller

S&P Index Price vs Dividends – from Irrational Exuberance

“Ever’body thinks investors make rational decisions.  Shiller’s a completely different animal.  He takes into account all da crazy stuff goes on. He gave us Behavioral Finance.  He called da internet bubble o’ 2000 right to the month. Then he gave us da Case-Shiller Index ‘n’ called the housing bubble.” 

Loop turns his palms back down.  “Fama never predicted nothin.’   

Loop pauses—for effect I suppose—then goes on: “Shiller says, you can predict asset prices. Fer an economist, dis is big stuff!  How does he do it?  Way too much volatility caused by illogical decisions compared to future cash flow.  Turns out you can measure it.  That shakes up da whole academic world.” 

Home Prices, Irrational Exuberance Shiller

Home prices – from Irrational Exuberance

So this is this the news flash I missed while embroiled in such excellent and enjoyable physical therapy.

Don: “You not correct about Shiller study.  It predict long term only.  To quote famous economist, ‘In long run, we all dead.’”

Loop: “Yeah, Shiller’s model’s limited t’ dividend-paying stocks, so that’s as far as he can go fer now. Maybe someday he gets the resta the story.” 

Our steak is served and we all tuck in. When dinner is done, Lonagan surprises me by paying the bill.

We exit the premises to find Clamps crouched on the pavement, his short, powerful tail wagging vigorously. The dog is happily chewing on an electric green Nike sneaker.  I always thought dogs were color blind.

Loop bends down to inspect the shoe. “Just makin’ sure there ain’t no foot in it.”

READ – THROW THE BUM OUT

 READ SERIES FROM BEGINNING

Sources:

Wikipedia bio on Robert Shiller.

IRRATIONAL EXHUBERANCE – Robert Shiller

The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences – Prize in Economice 2013

 

Image Credits –Irrational Exuberance—Shiller,  Bio on Wikipedia

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