Dr. Sardonic and I tried to go to lunch at Chicago's premier encased meat emporium on Friday. No such luck. They were closed for a vacation. Driving up through Chicago's Lincoln Square neighborhood, we tried to find a restaurant catering to would-be-Bavarianns. The first two we tried weren't open yet. A look of desperation crossed the Doctor's face. Luckily, a quick phone call to Mr. Importantness brought the suggestion to meet him at the Chicago Brauhaus. I'd not been there before. I searched in vain for a shrine to Chicago's Queen of the Yodelers. But there was nothing. She has been forgotten by her people.

Not only were we met by Mr. Importantness, but also by the one, the only Fat, Drunken Cupid. Five liters of German beer on a Friday afternoon were lovely. The pounding headache 3 hours later was not. I went to bed really early.

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