Culturally Boding

So I'm browsing the Reader to see what's up this weekend, even though we already have two movies queued. This weekend appears to be an iron-fist-in-the-velvet-glove scenario. Thank you, sir, may I have another?

1. The imaginary Merle Haggard/Marty Stuart concert in Joliet has finally disappeared from the "Early Warnings" section. This event appears only to have existed in the fevered brains of the Reader's employees. Which fucking blows, because once you've alerted me to that fact that Merle Haggard is still alive, I demand a live version of Okie from Muskogee, bitch.
   
2. William H. Macy at the Siskel Film Center tonight! Huzzah! Oh, except for the part where UGH it's fucking Mamet. Because . . .
   . . . yes?
   Now do you see?
   . . . I . . . no . . . it's getting . . .
   I hate Mamet. Why do you think that is?
   
3. But hurray! The Pitchfork Music Festival looks awesome. Ted Leo and the Pharmacists! WOoo! Except it's supposed to be 96 fucking degrees all weekend. Sorry, Ted, unless you can write me an Rx for a personal cooling bubble that is also +10 against drunks with heat exhaustion, I don't think I'll be doing much of anything outside this weekend.
   
4. There's a late-night superhero-y production called Rogue 8 that sounds like a hoot and is getting good reviews, but it's way up on Clark. If the Neofuturiarum is anything to go by, this may also be disqualified on the grounds that it's way too fucking hot to be cramming into an upper-floor space with a hundred other people, protected from the elements by wheezing window units.
   
5. There are about 27 concerts at Old Town that I really REALLY want to see (Red Stick Ramblers, Smog, Cowboy Junkies, Wailin' Jennys, Joan FREAKING Baez, and, of course, the voice that's always driving by: Mr. Jimmie "Doppler" Dale Gilmore). Old Town concerts are ridiculously inexpensive, especially for members, and yet I can't help calculating what percentage of my income even a few of those represents. Of course, I've just recalled that I really need to quit my bitching on this score, because I can get off my ass and volunteer to defray costs.
   

It seems clear that this entry should be retitled: Cultural Whining and Evidence of Lack of Committment to the Chicago Renaissance, but I'm too disaffected to be arsed.