Wow. Chicago didn’t get the Olympics. When that bitter pill fought its way down my throat Thursday morning, I had no choice but to take it. Now, I’m a die-hard Cubs fan*, so I’m used to swallowing that pill, but it still just bunched up my panties and made my asshole pucker up tighter than your dad after the 8th day of Hanukkah. I calmed myself using a familiar mantra: ‘don’t fret, little Michael. At least we’ll all be dead soon.’