Cooking with Rodent

The SJ-R's Chris Britt recently inked a cartoon that lampooned the rodent infestation at Franny’s Tavern. It was in response to a recent health inspection where suspicious mice activity was reportedly detected in food preparation areas. The cartoon shows a Franny’s patron ordering a bowl of Chili Sans Itchy amid a bar-full of mice. It has gotten some play on talk radio and I have to say that I was a bit taken aback by it when I first saw it.

My first reaction was that it seems a little harsh to go after an otherwise upstanding local establishment in such a ruthless manner. It’s one thing for an editorial cartoonist to be merciless when going after politicians, since some consider them to be lower than mice on the food chain anyway, but quite another to skewer the proprietor of a blue collar bar, a gentleman who is apparently so kind-hearted that he also runs a shelter for wayward rodents.

Rather than depicting Franny’s as a spot still overrun with mice, Britt could have chosen to draw a pipe-playing leprechaun leading the horde out of the Irish pub towards the Lincoln Park lagoon where they would meet their demise. It is, after all, better to light a candle than curse someone’s darkness. But that's just me.

On the other hand, anyone serving food that had previously served as lodging for mice is deserving of a harsh rebuke. If I had been one of the people who had eaten at Franny’s in the weeks preceding the health inspection, I probably wouldn’t have laughed a vengeful laugh upon seeing the cartoon, if only to keep from swallowing the chlorine I’d been gargling with. So in that respect, I suppose you could say that Britt struck a blow for every Franny's customer who was served a crap sandwich.

I do have somewhat of a history with Franny’s and perhaps that is responsible for my initial compassionate reaction. For a few years, I lived across the street from the venerable drinking hole that was once a popular political hangout.* Although I was never a regular**, and I don’t know the owner or any of the patrons, I do harbor a minor affinity for the place.

The day after I became engaged to my future wife, we met some friends at Franny’s to share the good news. What I remember most about that evening, even more than the inappropriate condolences directed towards my wife, was a minor incident that involved one of the patrons.

As my wife-to-be left our table to powder her nose, she caught the eye of a 50ish bloke who had apparently been soaking there in place for some time. He watched her as she passed and again on her return. This was not the admiring stare of a chap harkening back to his halcyon days spent a-courtin’, but the hard glare of someone who either harbored a misogynic attraction to cute brunettes or had just eaten a pork tenderloin breaded with mouse droppings. I now have reason to believe that it may have been the latter.

I don’t blog much about golf, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t congratulate Annika Sorenstam on winning the Brass Rail Award. She must have scored a lot of points on that last day because I think she was in 10th place earlier in the week. I’m not sure if this is the first time the fairer sex has won a golfing match, but her victory struck a blow for women everywhere. Take that Bobby Riggs. Annika has also helped restore some pride in our country in a time when we can really use it. USA! USA!

*Dan Rutherford hosted a gathering at Franny’s during the fair which provided me a glimpse of why I’ll probably never become involved in a political campaign. In addition to being made to hoot and holler like an audience member at a Let’s Make a Deal taping, apparently you’re also required to “get happy” upon hearing some of the dregs of popular music (Old Time Rock ‘n’ Roll, YMCA.) Maybe it’s just a Republican thing, but I can’t imagine that a Blago shindig is any more happening.

**A BFS t-shirt, should they become available, to the first person to identify the song that laments the “regulars” who haunt taverns. The NGR is in effect and it has to be the song I’m thinking of and not some other song that I don’t know. Also, no making up your own lyrics, Ms. What.