The Golden F$#*ing Arch Of Blago’s Road To Perdition

Thank God Harry Caray wasn’t alive to see the modicum of law and order which was served up in his second city home today.

I would’ve bet Donald Trump’s Apprentice money that the former Gov of Illinois, Rod Blagojevich, was going to walk and instead the jury goes hard ass on 17 of the 24 counts against him? Evidently these people were ringers. The locals never would’ve let one of their own hang for crimes he was merely guilty of. The Big Town is too small for justice to have any place in its friendly confines. Seriously, if there’s no harm or foul involved, you’re not an Illinois politician, you’re a member of the Chicago Cubs.

How can us outsiders come down hard on a guy whose own constituency was holding block parties for him with the hard earned money he used to filter into offshore accounts? Hmm, maybe that was his downfall.

Maybe once the politics was no longer local, outside influences were forced to intercede. Once the hermetically sealed Illinois political machine went airborne in 2008 when Barack Obama actually won his first election, all bets were off. Maybe the RNC and the DNC and the CDC were concerned that all the malfeasance going on by the lake might seep into the pristine (sic) federal waters.

They brought in the Fed’s version of Winston Wolf to play cleaner and Patrick Fitzgerald is every bit of the role Harvey Keitel played to perfection. And he makes today’s verdict a doubly hard one for those parochial Chi’s to digest since Fitzgerald happens to hail from Brooklyn USA; the same hometown as another stone cold killer by the name of Michael Jordan.

What goes up . . it just came down.

The affable Blago and his bulletproof hair was just fine with me. After all, he wasn’t stealing my money. Viewing the guy’s record from afar is like watching a Cubs game from an airport bar in Philadelphia. Entertaining, humorous, fun.

So what if Blago had resorted to selling Barack’s old Senate seat through a private auction in Bulgaria? So what if he was shaking down children’s hospitals for Foie gras money? So what if he was draping himself in velvet jogging suits even though it wasn’t socially acceptable? So what if he was dirtier than Jenna Jamison and Charlie Sheen at an End of the World Party in Vegas?

He was Blago the Magnificent. Just think of all the landmark achievements that happened under his watch . . .

The Chicago White Sox actually won (not threw) a World Series.  The Cubs would’ve had a chance to lose the World Series if not for Bartman.  Deep dish pizza and the Chicago Dog went national in popularity. The movie “Chicago” was released. Hometown girl Jennifer Hudson won an Academy Award and a Grammy.

And this is the thanks he gets? Prison? Where the only thing he’s gonna be allowed to do is write a couple of best sellers, film a reality show and follow it up with a box office smash documentary, host a radio show on the weekends and sell his prison cell bed to Mark Cuban for 10 mil?

Fucking golden.

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2 thoughts on “The Golden F$#*ing Arch Of Blago’s Road To Perdition

  1. Hi CT,
    I love your blog and one of the reasons is that often I have absolutely no idea of what or who you’re talking about . . but you do it with such conviction!!!
    The line: The locals never would’ve let one of their own hang for crimes he was merely guilty of.
    Fantastic… though I have no idea who the person is, what the circumstance is . . .. let alone the numerous sporting references….

    Keep doing it – – whatever it is :-))

  2. Well, as the old saying goes . . I may be wrong but I am never uncertain. Conviction has gotten me fired, dumped and beaten to a pulp. And silly me . . I took those results to mean I was supposed to keep on keeping on.

    Behave yourself, young man.

    PS- I checked out Fletcher’s “Art of Looking Sideways”. It is wild! Thanks for the suggestion.

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