[after discovering that their “hero” is actually a convict]
Winifred Ames: What did he do?
Stanley Motss: He raped a nun…
Winifred Ames: Oh, God. Oh, God. Jes - Oh, God!
Stanley Motss: And…
Winifred Ames: “And”? I don’t want to know an “and”. Why is there an “and”?
Stanley Motss: Look, look, look, look, look. He’s fine as long as he gets his medication…
Winifred Ames: And if he doesn’t get his medications?
Stanley Motss: He’s not fine
48-0.
That is the Chicago City Hall vote in favor of risking $86 million in order to acquire vacated Michael Reese Hospital.
And oh yeah, it will take $1.1 billion to transform this medical graveyard into an Olympic village.
But who gets the contracts for construction?
Well, apparently not the constituents for more than a few of the city’s aldermen who unanimously voted to spend your tax dollars on a temporary club resort for visiting international athletes.
Six percent.
Say what?
Local minority groups garnered a whole S-I-X or 6 (whichever grabs the eye faster) percent of the contracted work.
The colors of the Olympic rings are blue, yellow, green and red. The center anchoring ring is black. And none are white.
Six percent.
That number only looks great when analyzing the number of black head coaches in NCAA football.
What an insult.
We need to get Charles Barkley in town to discuss this matter in front of the cameras.
But at least some aldermen are waking up to the reality of the 2016 Olympic special interests cash cow machine. Chicago style of course. And that new sense of awareness is indeed good for well informed tax paying citizens of this near bankrupt metropolis. After all, these same aldermen are now being force fed empty promises by Mayor Daley in order to agree risking $500 million as a city backed guarantee to pick up the remaining outstanding financing of the Olympics should the private sector fail.
Yes folks, that is a hell of a lot of dough. Especially considering that a $225 million real estate security blanket for tax payers has already vaporized by the downtrodden economy.
And only now are some city hall wonks screaming foul. Check out the following statements (Chicago Sun-Times):
“I want some skin in my community,” said Ald. Ed Smith (28th).
Ald. Freddrenna Lyle (6th) demanded a “spreading of the wealth in a non-communistic kind of sense because it’s happening in our house” and Olympic planners have to “play by our rules. These are the rules of the game here in Chicago — and it’s not a pay-to-play, to those [investigators] with the mics and vests. It’s just a sharing of the equities. It is the way things should be done — without us saying it.”
“Everybody making decisions at Chicago 2016 — you all think alike. You don’t know any people of color. You can’t find any people of color. That is wrong. I’m telling you today there will be consequences. There will be actions taken if you all continue . . . excluding people of color in every aspect of 2016.” - Ald. Leslie Hairston (5th)
And yet, these same people justify the Reese Hospital purchase as a wise real estate investment. Who told them that exactly? Donald Trump?
Audacity seems to be en vogue as a hip political term these days. And Mayor Daley exudes a certain vanilla audaciousness by reassuring his city hall malcontents that Pat Ryan will do better for them. Just like everyone’s all knowing condescending shifty eyed uncle, Daley coos:
“They have to do a better job,” he said. “They know that.” (Chicago Tribune)
Translation - Pat Ryan will do whatever instructed by the Mayor. And if you want access to Ryan’s construction war chest, well you know how it works. This is Chicago and the Mayor’s office is always open for business. After all, it was Daley who directly appointed Ryan as the public face supposedly in charge of this bidding process. So the Mayor needs not to bother pretending that the hand shoved up the backside of Ryan the Muppet is not his own.
Convenient, how this messy Blagojevich corruption scandal occurred just before the most historic city hall vote will transpire and define Daley’s political legacy.
Wag. Wag. Wag.
Ryan insists there is no risk to Chicago tax payers. Then by all means, please put that down on paper. A handshake and exclamation of “pinky swear” around these parts are not exactly trustworthy.
In about a month, City Hall is required to vote in order to officially back the financial risk of the 2016 Games. Daley and Ryan want us to believe that this all just a formality to appease the IOC. Of course it is (cough, cough) Ironically, part of the requirement is to guarantee:
They must also agree to provide free sanitation, transportation and medical services during the 2016 Summer Games now that international rules changes prohibit the city from charging for those services.
Free sanitation and transportation? The Metra reeks of urine and excrement so it could feasibly double as a toilet on tracks for city bound athletes. And no, we have not forgotten the brilliant plan of somehow shutting down the expressways to bus in athletes (very eco green friendly indeed). Medical services? Ha ha. Enjoy a six hour wait at bare bones budget operating Cook County Hospital.
Hilarious how these same basic provisions cannot be provided to Chicago tax payers but can be so willingly provided to short staying guests. Something to think about when skidding off an unsalted non-plowed road during tomorrow morning’s commute.
Daley and Ryan probably don’t understand why the fuss. And men of inherited privilege and power rarely do. It is claimed that 30% of the work relating to the Olympics is already given to minorities. Of course not clarified is what is exactly the work or how much it really pays. And less than a third of the proposed employment really is not worth bragging.
Hey Aldermen Smith, Lyle, Hairston (and wherever you are Mr. Ocasio), you already know exactly how this is going to work. The same way it has always worked in Chicago. And the same way it will always work until you finally stand up against this frozen clump of bullfeathers.
Your constituents are going to get screwed. Like they always have been. You know it. And we know it.
So go ahead and spare us all from further financial agony.
History may prove that you saved Chicago from bankruptcy.
Leave the blood letting of the city treasury to Uncle Richard’s exclusive legacy.
And not yours. Don’t volunteer yourselves as Daley’s designated sacrificial dupes.
For God’s sake and ours, be really audacious.
Vote no.
You see that building? I bought that building ten years ago. My first real estate deal. Sold it two years later, made an $800,000 profit. It was better than sex. At the time I thought that was all the money in the world. Now it’s a day’s pay. - Gordon Gekko
Ah but is it better than woman’s shoes?
Michael Cooke, editor for the Chicago Sun-Times has had a pretty damn good year for himself. Obviously, anytime you can scrub millions off the payroll due to a blowhard’s ill advised “I quit” text message and increase circulation off the publicity, is rather impressive.
But to outdo Donald Trump at his own game?
Perhaps even better.
Chicago Business reports that Cooke played the “flip your condo” game astutely in a real estate ravaged economy:
The Cookes bought their unit for $543,000 on Sept. 18 and sold it to another buyer for $790,000 on Oct. 10, according to deeds filed with the Cook County Recorder. The Cookes financed their purchase with a $417,000 loan, presumably putting up $126,000 themselves and nearly doubling their money in less than a month. Efforts to reach Mr. Cooke were unsuccessful.
Gordon Gekko is pleased. Greed is good.
But it gets even better. Transactions such as Cooke’s coup are like daggers in the back for the building’s celeb developer. Undoubtedly this is causing the Donald to tear the wig hair off out of his head. Alby Gallun writes:
Investors like Mr. Cooke will only make life more difficult for Mr. Trump, who has been unable to pay off a $640-million construction loan on the project that came due last Friday. Not only does the New York developer face the worst residential real estate market in decades, but he is competing with a growing number of his own buyers who have put their condos up for sale. Buyers started closing on their units a few months ago.
Donald Trump owes millions to his lenders. So it makes perfect sense that he sue them because of his failure to pay off his loans.
Only in America.
Other tenants in the building might want to follow Cooke’s lead before the balloon completely bursts on Trump’s real estate abomination.
After all, remaining employed is rather iffy for many folks these days. Even fabulously paid professional athletes.
Time to get that “For Sale” sign out on the front door, Mr. Rex Grossman. $2.7 million is a hell of a lot of coin for a condo in a city that might not employ you next season. Compound the complicating factor that the Chicago Rush will not be operating in 2009, it would be prudent to get a move on with a relocation plan.
As for Patrick Kane, it appears that his $2.1 million dollar residential investment is safe for now. And it is good to be a Blackhawk these days. Remember to knock’em dead at Wrigley Field next week. All the eyes of the hockey world will be watching.
Meanwhile, Trump might want to pop a call to Barbara Walters to get on her grating morning talk show. The extra coin, no matter where the source, is going to come in real handy, even if it involves bringing back the asexual hateful baboon for daytime television fodder. And lesson be learned, stay clear of any real estate deal involving a former haunt of the back page unemployed ghoul.
Some curses just might be real.
And Mike? Do share your good fortune with your co-workers. They deserve a nice holiday bonus after what they have endured for the past 15 years. Keep that good karma rolling!
Neil Steinberg wrote once that his true immersion into adulthood was the day he purchased a table cover. That might sound silly at first blush, but he made sense of it. It was the day he took responsibility for something that was his. And, it was not a frivolous purchase or a whim. It had to be thought out, examined and dealt with.
You know, those things adults do.
My moment came when I bought a TV. I had always preferred a lifestyle that allowed me the freedom to move when and where I wanted. It is kind of hard to toss a TV in a backpack, so I never owned one. But, I had met the woman who is now my wife and we were getting our first place together. So, there we were, standing in the store, looking at this behemoth of a TV and saying, “Yes, that’ll do fine.”
And, like Neil, it was not a moment of panic for me. Contrariwise, it was a moment of pleasant revelation. I had a home. And someone to share it with.
Usually such moments come when you purchase something, but not always. Last night, as we were watching the Bulls ignore every memo we had sent about playing defense, a buddy of mine shared his. He has served two tours in the middle east and is retired now from the USMC. He is the kind of guy who can bend steel with a look. Tattoos fear him.
So I was a little surprised when he looked over at me and said, “You know you are a real man the day you apologize to a teddy bear.”
I started to laugh, immediately thought better of it and listened as he told the story of how he accidentally stepped on his daughter’s teddy bear. You can figure out the details.
On a day when RICK TELANDER is writing about President-Elect Bam Bam, yes that is what he called him, and the Blackhawks are finally worthy of the adjective “MIGHTY” again, I should be laughing along with the gang, as it were.
But, after writing about role models yesterday, I, instead, find myself going just a little nuts and re-reading this stuff FROM WIKIPEDIA or FROM USA TODAY IN 2007. Below are just some highlights, the actual list is very long.
Rae Carruth. The former Carolina Panthers wide receiver received a sentence of 18-24 years in 2001 for a conviction of conspiracy to murder Cherica Adams, his pregnant girlfriend. Adams was driving home behind Carruth’s car on Nov. 16, 1999, when an assailant pulled alongside her car and shot her four times. Adams told police that Carruth had stopped his car before the shooting.
• Professional life after his sentence: Carruth is still in jail.
Mike Danton. The former St. Louis Blues player received a 7½-year sentence in November 2004 after pleading guilty in a murder-for-hire plot. Prosecutors alleged that the target of the conspiracy was his agent, David Frost.
• Professional life after his sentence: Danton is still in jail.
Darryl Henley. The former L.A. Rams cornerback was originally convicted of drug trafficking chargers in 1995. Then in 1996 he pled guilty to conspiracy to murder a federal judge and a prosecution witness, and a federal judge sentenced him to 41 years in prison.
• Professional life after his sentence: Henley is still in jail.
Tom Payne. After his rookie season with the Atlanta Hawks in 1972, Payne was sentenced to two years on a rape charge that was the first in a string of convictions for sexual assault and rape. After being released from jail in 1983, Payne was sentenced to 28 years for a 1986 rape in Los Angeles.
• Professional life after his sentence: Payne never returned to the NBA.
Ugueth Urbina. The former major league pitcher received a 14-year sentence in March 2007 after his conviction on attempted murder charges in Venezuela. A jury found the then-31-year-old Urbina had tried to murder five workers on his family’s ranch on Oct. 16, 2005.
• Professional life after his sentence: Urbina is still in jail.
Every single person there has had chance after chance and never found that one moment that makes them pause and realize that there is more to the universe than them. Somehow they missed the opportunity to grow up and be an adult. Somewhere they lost the ability to take responsibility for their actions and instead had it forced upon them. Because that is what jail is, the people forcing you to be responsible for what you have done.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not getting all maudlin as many do this time of year. Far from it. I find myself looking back across the years, thinking on some of the stupid stuff I have done and saying “There, but for the Grace of God, go I.”
After you get done listening to THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS sing I’M AN ADULT NOW, CLICK HERE TO SHARE YOUR STORIES.
A long time ago, when I was just a little Big Bad, a very wise man took me aside and offered me some very sage advice; “Stay away from adjectives. If someone attaches an adjective to your name then, nine times out of ten, you’re screwed.” As time has marched merrily on, I have learned that he was right.
Embattled Illinois Governor.
Troubled Dallas Cornerback.
Unhinged Former Pacer.
Woefully Inept Former Sportswriter.
If you get two adjectives you are really loathed.
You can easily see the pattern. However, today, JIM O’DONNELL of the Sun Times takes a look at the exception, “Revered Head Coach”. Specifically, Northwestern Head Football Coach Pat Fitzgerald.
I am only going to share a background snippet here but I strongly advise you to go, buy the paper and save the article. If you have children who are interested in sports, or are already involved in them, you could do a lot worse than holding up Pat Fitzgerald as a role model.
First, we’ll let Jim take a minute to debunk the urban legend that Fitzgerald became one of the NCAA’s all time great linebackers at Northwestern only because he was snubbed by Notre Dame.
In recruiting myth and lore, Pat Fitzgerald crafted his Hall of Fame linebacking career at Northwestern only after Notre Dame declined to offer him a scholarship.
Not so, says father Pat Fitzgerald Sr.
‘’Pat decided on our first full day of his official visit that he didn’t want to go there,’’ Fitzgerald Sr. said. ‘’We didn’t even stay for the full weekend.’’
The rapid-fire decision came during a question-and-answer session with then-coach Lou Holtz and associates on the Saturday morning of the visit in 1992.
‘’This was pre-Internet, but Patrick had done his homework,’’ Fitzgerald Sr. said. ‘’The Notre Dame staff did their presentation in front of about 50 potential recruits and parents, then asked if there were any questions. Only one hand shot up, and it was Pat’s.’’
Young Fitzgerald wanted to know: Was it true you had to room with the same people you were assigned to for all four years unless you got married and moved off campus?
‘’They tap-danced around the answer, so Pat rephrased his question,’’ his father said. ‘’They tap-danced a second time and then a third. I could tell my son was not happy.’’
As the day continued, young Fitzgerald, according to his father, pulled his parents aside and said, ‘’I don’t want to go here. Let’s go.’’
‘’I asked him if he was serious,’’ Fitzgerald Sr. said. ‘’I could see he was, so we went back to the hotel, checked out and were home before dusk.’’
And the rest, God bless ye purple deities, is Northwestern football history.
While the article is heartfelt, it is neither cloying nor pandering. It is a pleasantly clear-eyed look at a man who has gone through some incredibly rough times, some hellaciously good times and has earned the respect and admiration of his team, his peers and anyone else who is lucky enough to be close to him. In this day and age, it is nice to se the much maligned adjective put to good use for a change.
When I was a very little kid and waiting for Santa, things that were stamped “Milton Bradley” were high on my list. Mostly they had fun games that taught you how to play nice with others. But, don’t worry, I am not about to embark on a treacle filled look at how Candyland is the foundation of humanity or anything like that.
It’s just that I had an unexpected flash of nostalgia when I heard that the Cubs were trying to sign Milton Bradley. Thankfully, Greg Couch of the Chicago Sun Times weighed in and wiped that stupid half-grin right off my face.
I don’t have enough space to write about all of Bradley’s temper tantrums. But he played for Cleveland until he had a run-in with his manager, then Los Angeles, where he called teammate Jeff Kent a racist. Somewhere in there, he nearly got into a fight with a fan, and he once called a black reporter an Uncle Tom.
Forget it. Don’t sign Bradley. The Cubs can’t be that desperate, especially with Bobby Abreu out there to be had.
The Cubs have been telling us that Bradley has grown up, but they’re either spinning or justifying. If they sign Bradley, they know what they’ll get: excellent play, 30 to 50 days on the disabled list and at least three flip-outs.
Do the Cubs need a player with some fire? Absolutely. Do they need a guy who would allow them to break up the parade of wooden soldiers they call a line up? You know it. Do they need this guy? No way in H E double toothpicks.
What they need to do is go back and read the initial press releases from each of the 4 previous teams that signed him after Cleveland. They all used phrases like “matured”, “leader” and, my personal favorite, “will blend well with what we have.” All of them may as well have been written by the same PR firm since they are almost identical. Change the team logo, add in a different number for complaints and, WHAMMO (a different toy company) you have a Milton Bradley signing.
Anyway, since our new best friend Greg does such a good job of detailing the average year with Uncle Milty, I’ll let him finish this out.
And there is a theory that a good, professional clubhouse, as the Cubs have, can absorb one guy. Derrek Lee is a classy, good leader. But what makes the Cubs’ clubhouse so much better than all those others Bradley has been in?
It’s not that Bradley’s a bad teammate daily so much as he just loses it, and you don’t know when it will happen. But it will. The stories written about Bradley over the years follow a pattern:
First he’s a great player. Then his attitude is helping the team. Then his screw-up was a misunderstanding. Then his next screw-up was a mistake. Then he gets hurt, then another screw-up, and he has to go.
The sad thing is that we are in the middle of football weather and the only interesting stories are about baseball. Oh well, there’s nothing I can do about that, so CLICK HERE TO JOIN THE FUN!