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| -Lurid Crime Tales- |
| 'Twas the Night Before Fitzmas (read by Illinois Gov. Dead Meat) |
| 2008-12-18 |
| Heh. Today, let's celebrate the spirit of the season with a dramatic reading by Illinois Gov. Dead Meat of a timeless holiday classic. So think of this column as you would an old episode of "Masterpiece Theatre," in which I'm some cultured fellow with an English accent, introducing the governor, who recites the famous poem eagerly anticipated by young and olde: " 'Twas the Night Before Fitzmas." But first, down in Springfield on Wednesday, legislators were dancing for the TV cameras, like monkeys on strings, in the impeachment of the governor of Illinois. Edward Genson, officially the lawyer for Gov. Rod Blagojevich, and close friend of Blagojevich's shadow governor state Sen. Jimmy DeLeo (D-How You Doin?), made headlines. Genson demanded three legislators be yanked off the impeachment committee for making comments critical of the governor. Is Genson funny, like a clown? He didn't demand that another impeachment panel member, state Rep. John Fritchey (D-Pastries) be removed, even though Fritchey has been an ostentatious reformer of late, busy in the news media expressing his righteousness. But in real life, Fritchey is the son-in-law of powerful 36th Ward boss Sam "Pastries" Banks. Fritchey's brother-in-law, Jimmy Banks, Pastries' son, makes a fortune as a zoning lawyer, getting zoning changes through the city committee chaired by his uncle and Pastries' brother, Ald. William "Now seems like a good time to retire" Banks. DeLeo is part of that no-neck 36th Ward empire. TV legal analysts breathlessly ran with the story, "Genson demands ouster of critical lawmakers!" and didn't once question why Fritchey was not singled out. This tells me that politicians aren't the only dancing monkeys in Illinois. The TV guys were dancing too, eagerly gobbling Genson's treats as ravenous monkeys are wont to do. They haven't yet figured out what you readers already know from Tuesday's column, about the DeLeo-Genson connection. Dance, monkeys, dance. Or, as The Killers wonder: Are they human? Or are they dancers? Either way, today we're saved from cynical theatrics by an anonymous reader who penned " 'Twas the Night Before Fitzmas." Let me set the scene. Imagine me speaking to you not in my nasal Chicago twang, but in the modulated voice of the late Alistair Cooke on "Masterpiece Theatre," sitting in a leather wing chair, a martini at my side, books like "The Outfit" and "Clout" at my elbow, and a crackling fire behind me. Our story opens at Cafe Bionda, a Chicago hangout for politicians and wise guys. There, Gov. Dead Meat sits alone at the back table, weeping, guzzling flagons of hot mulled wine. He stands, and begins to lament: 'Twas the night before Fitzmas and all through the house The federals were listening for the sound of a mouse. The wiretaps were hung by the chimneys with care With sugarplum visions of the rats they would snare. And I in my tracksuit with Patti in bed With visions of "bleepin' gold" running through our heads, When out on the lawn, there arose such a herald, I knew in an instant it must be Fitzgerald. For a second, I thought this must be in jest, Then the telephone said, "You're under arrest." I rushed to the window and what did appear? A sled full of subpoenas pulled by eight tiny reindeer. More rapid than Outfit bookies, the coursers they came And Patrick did whistle, and call them by name. "Now Rezko! Now Kelly! Now Amrish and Stu! On Wyma! On Harris! On Rahm and Ata too!" And with a winsome grand jury so lively and quick Jimmy called Genson, 'cause I'm in the thick. Then I drew in my head and was turning around And there stood Fitzgerald, who made not a sound. But with a wink of his eye and a twist of his head He let me know that I had plenty to bleepin' dread. He pointed his finger alongside his nose, I told him, "Hang loose," but up the chimney he rose. I started to spill because I am no tool, But then Eddie and Jimmy said, "Shut up you fool!" Then Patti awoke all sweetness and light, "You're bleeping holding up that bleeping Cubs bleep, Right?" Fitz sprang to his sleigh and the reindeer did bristle While off in the distance, sang the jailhouse whistle. I heard him exclaim to all within sight, "Merry Fitzmas to all, except those I indict." Author! Author! *golf clap* :-D |
| Posted by:Barbara Skolaut |
| #3 Valerie Jarret is the daughter in law to Chicago Sun-Times reporter Vernon Jarrett. Her grandfather was also a big time Chicago pol. All coincidences, I am sure. |
| Posted by: ed 2008-12-18 22:31 |
| #2 As I understand it (and I've been buried in other matters) a key Obama advisor who was angling for the senate seat was starting to be taped ... and is the daughter of a Chicago Trib journalist. Pure coincidence that she very loudly announced one day that she wasn't interested in the appointment ... and shortly thereafter the Trib broke the story, ending the possibility of her incriminating herself on the Feds' recordings. I *think* I got those details right but welcome correction if not. Like I said, I've mostly been buried in other things these last few weeks. |
| Posted by: lotp 2008-12-18 22:12 |
| #1 The irony is that the Trib published before the investigation was completed, thus blowing any chance of catching the act of bribery and leaving Fitzgerald with a markedly weaker case. So now we get weeks of self-congratulation and neener-neener from these so-called journalistic crusaders Then again, it's Chicago. Color me surprised. |
| Posted by: Pappy 2008-12-18 18:26 |