Yesterday J—and I went to Schuba’s and listened to the lamest debate on foreign policy ever, sponsored by Chicago Council of Foreign Relations/GOAT (Globally Occupy the Attention of young Chicagoans). It wasn’t as tedious as listening to a bunch of undergrads debate free speech, but it was close. It’s gag-worthy when the first question (albeit from a very pretty African American fiddler girl) is “What is democracy?”

And it gets even worse when the exchange is so polite we may as well be watching a tranquilized version of Meet the Press.

It’s all well and good to educate us masses about foreign policy in a neighborhood bar while drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. I think we all should get politicized in bars. But come one, lobbing softballs to an ex-ambassador and a journalist from The Economist is lame. I didn’t learn a single thing.

In another, less critical vein, I was struck by how well-dressed the crowd was, considering it was Sunday afternoon in a bar – bright red lipstick, pointy flats, pencil skirts, clutch bags and artfully tousled pony-tails on the women and carefully worn jeans, flowy B&R cabana shirts and sandals on the men. (Not for my friend J—, who dug out his hiking athletic shoes, sweater and shorts combo.)