Aspiring comedian Ryan Dempster probably got a little bit of a lift from the hilarity ensuing just past the left field wall (and across the street) at Brixen Ivy, the well-situated and acousticophobic rooftop on Waveland Ave. Dempster picked up another Wrigley Field win as regular Shoutboxers, Desipiots and some of their wives and girlfriends were there to witness the Cubs’ 6-2 win over St. Louis, drink enough beer to kill the populations of DuPage, Lake and Cook counties, cheer wildly politely clap at Jim Edmonds’ exploits against his former team, renew and make acquaintances, educate an older woman on the greatness that is Jim Essian, mock hospitably welcome a few well-dressed Cardinals fans, and otherwise have a good time.

Amazingly, nearly every member of this group is a functioning member of society. They all even have jobs (sorry, Lee Elia). Well nearly everyone. The employment status of the three women in the front row is in doubt.

Front Row: Three random women who live in their condominium for a living. Second row (from left): Morpheus, Oleg, TDubbs; Third Row (from left): Bad Kermit, flannj, TEC, A guy whose hat and glasses are the only things visible, Irish Yeti, T.J. Brown, Banana Hands; Third Row: Chuck Dickens’ girlfriend, Chuck Dickens, the left side of Pre’s head, Thrillho/Cornfed, Butthead, Forklift, Mike D., Andy Dolan, thehawk.

Not pictured: Chuck-to-Chuck and Mrs. Chuck-to-Chuck; Slaky and his girlfriend; Andy’s father who probably disowned Andy after meeting this crowd; Mrs. T.J., who is a 3-1 shot to return home today from work now that she met this group; Saint Mrs. Fork, who did vow not to attend a Blackhawks-Red Wings rooftop on New Year’s; Mrs. Butthead; Weebs (out on the curb at 1050 W. Waveland).

For those who have not been a rooftop, Brixen Ivy has its pluses: a great view of the action (sort of important, seeing that you’re paying $150 for a seat) and plenty of beer and food. The view is truly outstanding:

The downsides? Hmm, there were a few.

• As noted before, the managers of Brixen Ivy were apparently terrified of loud noises. Anything approaching the decibel-level of a golf gallery clap was quickly met with a verbal warning from the Brixen Ivy brownshirts gestapo staff.
• The food was good — Thrillho strongly recommends the chips — but dessert was promised in the fifth inning. By the top of the sixth, any evidence of “dessert” was gone. Come on boys, get with the program here.
• Even the gentlest teasing of Cardinals’ fans brought in the “zero tolerance” policy.
• They oversold the event as 20 or so fans didn’t even have a seat. (Thankfully, not the Shoutboxers.)
• Apparently, ordering 20 beers and keeping the cups stored on the back row of the bleachers beyond the seventh inning is frowned upon here.

OK, the last item makes sense, but Catholic parishes usually don’t impose such rules on their parishoners during Sunday Mass. (And when my parish advertises doughnuts and coffee post-Mass, the doughnuts and coffee remain for awhile.)

All was not lost. Bad Kermit made a new friend.