Of the 10 finalists in the latest Tweet of the Week poll, my favorite is "So, this is hard to say, but: Worcestershire sauce," by @AndrewNadeau0, though in very early voting it is not doing well with the electorate.
Side note – the difficult to pronounce sauce is said "WUHS-ter-sher," more or less.
Last week's winner was comedian and writer Sam Grittner (@SamGrittner) for "Hey teens, do climate change next." Grittner's account is fascinating and sometimes troubling to follow. He battles depression and addiction and is very open with this struggles while also firing off quips and one-liners.
 Grittner also appears in the list of my favorite tweets from March with "LaCroix tastes like a Fresca that committed suicide."
I offered a dramatic reading of the list during my weekly radio appearance with Bill Leff and Wendy Snyder on WGN AM 720 (Mondays at 11:30 a.m.).
I also discussed my trip home to Ann Arbor Monday where I watched the NCAA men's basketball final with my dad. He was a physics professor at Michigan and took me to games as a kid; I also went to college there. And sports, you know. I did this five years ago when Michigan last made the final game and afterwards wrote Watching the big game with my dad, despite Amtrak: Our mutual interest in the school's athletic fortunes is a timeless thread, an instant bond, a series of common reference points stretching back decades. I admit this: The thought that the seeming permanence of this connection is an illusion prompted me to cut out of work early Monday and head over to Union Station. Dad's 81. But no matter how old he is, the opportunities for us to sit together and watch Michigan play for a national championship are limited and therefore precious. One of the compensations of getting older has been the wisdom to act on the recognition that the endlessness of opportunity is an illusion.
This year I drove, so as to avoid the vagaries of Amtrak, but the result — another Michigan loss to a plainly superior team — was the same. Very enjoyable nevertheless, and I'm very conscious of how lucky I am to be able, at my age, to share such an experience with my father.
When my youngest kids reach the age I am now, I'll be 99. But, I hope, still able to curse loudly at the television when Michigan athletes not yet born fail to live up to my high standards.  Basketball fandom figured into my Friday column Choosing loyalty over Loyola — why I'm rooting against the Ramblers, in which I described the lot of a Michigan fan living in a city that had gone justifiably ga-ga over the improbable tournament run of Loyola University Chicago. They taunt and sneer at us, but Loyola fans would not want it otherwise. They would not respect us if we abandoned a long-standing commitment to our team for a fleeting, shipboard romance with the metro-area darling. Our support, however momentarily sincere, would be shallow and therefore meaningless. And our ardor, our swagger, our vain expectations and our presumptuous fight song ("Hail to the Victors"? The game hasn't even started yet!) have the potential to add significant savor to a Loyola victory. A victory that will not happen, by the way.
It did not happen for them. Nor for us. But respect to all for a good season and fascinating tournament.
 Sunday's lead item was 'You're fired!' are words Trump says only on TV. Don't tell me Trump is too busy running the country to directly handle major terminations. The dude has played close to 100 rounds of golf in a little more than 14 months in office. He had time Wednesday to call Roseanne Barr to congratulate her on the boffo ratings for ABC's reboot of "Roseanne." This form of faintheartedness is an ominous flaw. He's going to have to hurt some feelings and deliver some tough news if he's going to adequately represent American interests.
The second item, Mark these words, noted the frequency with which companies apologize for boneheaded ads with the expression "we missed the mark." "We missed the mark" is right up there with "mistakes were made" and "I was not my best self" in the pantheon of weasel words.
Finally, today's column Will a settlement short-circuit search for truth in 37-year-old murder case? amounted to a status report on the ever-unfolding story of the aftermath of a 1982 murder in Chicago. I've picked up signals that the parties are planning to try to settle a key civil suit out of court before major witnesses are deposed, and this column explains why I think this would very a Very Bad Thing.
A settlement, no matter how it's couched, would not only imply guilt or shared responsibility on the part of Northwestern University and former journalism David Protess, it would stand to hamper or help conclude the search for truth to which the institution is ostensibly devoted, and would taint the innocence movement in which Northwestern and its law school have played such an integral role. At the very least, those itching to be done with all this should wait a few months until the major witnesses are deposed and history has a full enough record to render its own judgment.
I'm not exactly sure why you wouldn't yet be subscribing to the Mincing Rascals podcast on iTunes or TuneIn if in fact you're not. Just saying.
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