This weekend, an end to humdrum Chicago existence at the end of the Union Pacific North line train, an ending in . . . KENOSHA!

KENOSHA! That fabled hamlet, that glistening jewel of the Midwest!

KENOSHA! From whence have sprung a hundred hundred poets and a thousand thousand cheeses!

KENOSHA! Where the dewy tears of rosy-fingered Dawn cling to the soaring spires of the city, glistening like the diamond mines of deepest Afrika!

KENOSHA! When I can be found on Saturday.

Jealous? Yeah, you totally are.