Career Grifter CTA's Forrest Claypool' s Bull Durham Sack Management by Voyeurism

 CHICAGO (CBS) — The CTA admits it is using hidden cameras to crack down on employees who should be working, but some employees say they are placing the cameras in places they shouldn’t be.
The CTA claims that the cameras are part of an effort to crack down on waste, in this case employees sleeping on the job, and worse. . . .

I suppose that grabbing wink or two is the Progressive equivalent of sticking nickels in a Bull Durham sack. I am old enough to remember old timers who drove buses and streetcars. They referred to the art of Transit Larceny by an individual as being a 'Bull Durham Operator.'  On each route, a few nickels went home with the guy who spirited fares into a Bull Durham tobacco sack.   A greedy pig of a Transit worker would eventually get caught and find another City Hall gig.

Nowadays,  the thieves wear Brooks Brothers and get paid in checks with more zeroes than the Japanese air-force.  Or, if you read the Chicago papers and watch WTTW, the real thieves take naps after punching in to work.  I don't buy that crap.

I watch City workers everyday- cops, firemen, garbage men, water crews, teachers, bus and L drivers and the CTA repair crews on the Red, Orange, Blue, Brown, Pink and Mauve lines.  They do work.  They do work.  They do, work. There's no Siesta in public service! There is bid rigging, insider trading, fraud and all manner of contract opportunism.  Speaking of fraud and opportunism, let's turn to a paragon -CTA Boss Forrest Claypool.

I have long perceived Forrest Claypool to be a shameless moocher, a callow opportunist and really talent-challenged guy; now, in this second disturbing action  ( the first being the Claypool Pee-Watch on CTA Workers c. 2011) reported by CBS 2's Jay Levine I must add . . .really creepy.

My perceptions are based upon actual physical empirical encounters with this thin-gruel government job-hopper;  I watched Park District Commissioner shake down a girl working in the Special Events Department for VIP passes to Petrillo Band Shell performances acts open to the general public - but somewhat distant and without the VIP post-performance feed.   It was painful to watch . . . you know,  like a kid who beefs that his brother's birthday cake was better.  I have watched Forrest attend political events and fund-raisers for and by the people whom he would immediately stab in the back (too numerous to mention) and bad mouth to the ever useful Carol Marin.  I have followed the weasel-slick career of Forrest Claypool as he parlayed his way from Harold Washington to Rahm, always with a sense that there truly is no there, there.

I mean Andy Shaw endorsed Forrest. Me?  I think he is probably a great guy, when he's at home. Maybe not now, though.

Now, we hear that Ventra Boy the Micturating Bombardier has place peep-hole cameras in the locker and break rooms of CTA employees.  The idea is to find victims, when the public comes calling for answers about screw-ups that Forrest had his paws all over.

You see, Progressives have and always will hate and despise working men and women.  They love poor people, because they are commodity and could not name two persons in poverty.  Working people, especially skilled trades people are always and always will be the target of Investigative News Teams, Chuck Goudis, Peep-hole Operator and Progressives like Forrest Claypool.

Some guy sleeping off a hangover in the cab of Water Department Dump Truck must be exposed for the villain he is; some woman taking a bit too long in the Ladies Room really steams Forrest Claypool's clams and some kid taking a gander at the porn his supervisor downloaded requires a public chastisement.

The fact that this over-hired and over-paid Voyeur is setting up working people with cameras in their locker and break rooms is not new, but very consistent.  Forrest announced his 'crime fighting camera installations' last February; at the time, it was in response to thugs on the bus.  Now, we know that is just another attack on the middle class - the people who actually work for a living on the City's nickel.

Camera's never catch career grifters.

This Important Little Man Gets It! So Does The Pope.

We enjoyed a visit from Cardinal George on Monday here at Leo.Cardinal George stayed way past his appointed schedule talking and joking with students, the parents and the Leo Alumni. Chicago's Archbishop gets it.

Mayor James Sexton - Little Flower HS 1970/ Loyola University 1974

Evergreen Park Mayor and my old classmate  and pal Jimmy Sexton dropped by the blessing and stuffed a huge check in support of the bus program into my coat pocket, offered his best to the Cardinal and beat it without fanfare. Jimmy Sexton gets it.

Some years ago the guy coaching Notre Dame football at the time told a bunch of 7,8,9 and 10 year boxers from Celtic Boxing Club, who traveled to South Bend in a Blizzard in order to fight exhibition matches that would benefit the coach's daughter's charity that he was far to busy to autograph pieces of paper, let alone sit for a picture and talk to them.  I'm sorry that is not true.  The coach sent his body guard, an off duty South Bend cop, to tell me and the kids that the Coach was far too Big and Busy a Man to concern himself with kids drawing in money for his daughter.  Yeah, that is accurate. The Coach was not, or course Faust, Devine, Holtz, Willingham, or coach Kelly.  The coach was let go.  He just does not get it.

Most people get it.  Little kids arrive with it and best of us keep it.

This below makes much more clear than I could ever hope to do, or say.







http://www.buzzfeed.com/ellievhall/boy-wanders-onto-stage-to-hang-out-with-pope-francis

These guys get it.

Beef, Or You Die; Try This! Guinness Braised Beef Ribs

There's a Little Nip in the Air!  No, it's not Pearl Harbor Day.  'Tis Fall.  The leaves are past their ruby/amber seasonal majesty and are browning up nicely for their annual trip into my gutters.  The Illinois Football Playoffs begin and the IHSA *comes up with new and ever silly ways to make competitive sports as unappealing as an Andy Shaw witch hunt.

It is time for me to unbox the reliable and multi-caloried utensil for the Autumn and Winter seasons and seasoning - The Hamilton Beach Slow-Cooker.   My kids grew up on comfort food stirred in pot by old Dad on the stove-top, or the Slow-Cooker:  Chop Suey ala George's from 79th & Ashland, Klondike Chili aped from the recipe of late-great Charlie Orr, who brought Cajun Cooking to the south side via the Maple Tree Inn, Granny Hickey's SlumGullion, Kapust, St. George Illinois Smoked Boudin and Andouille Cassoulet with white beans, Lanacshire Hot Pots, Irish Stews & stuff I just threw together with broth,bacon, noodles and vegetables. The kids' favorite skillet offering was and remains SOS - creamed chipped beef on toast..

I now cook for one - my son of whom I am well pleased and who eats like he's going to the chair.

I plan to braise beef ribs in Guinness over a score and change of hours.  I will arise, at some point, an go . . .go to County Fair Foods on Western Avenue and nine bean rows will I pass and arrive at the meat counter.

I shall order beef ribs.  While the guy who took over when Mike retired cuts and trims my Moosickles,  I venture over to the vegetable section and grab some leeks, celery, spuds ( baby reds), carrots, green onions and parsley.

I have a spice shaker filled with Hickey Mix - Cumin, Coriander, black pepper, paprika and curry powder, onion and garlic salts.  I'll empty about four tablespoons of the stuff into a bowl and add 1/4 cup of brown sugar and dash or six of Kikoman Teriyaki Sauce.

I'll go over toCounty Fair's new beer section and grab a four pack of the big Guinness cans and six pack of Bud Lite for Conor. How, he can drink that swill plumb evades me.  A bad can of Burgie was better than that equine medical specimen.  I will also purchase a large can (16oz.) of whole tomatoes. 

In my big black cast iron skillet, I'll make a dark roue and spoon onto wax paper and when cool wrap it up..  Then, I'll  set the roue in a dish and stick it in the icebox, 'cuz I won't need it for a day or so. After cleaning the skillet with a paper towel, returning it to low heat on the stove I'll brown the bones on the three sides what's got meat.

Set them aside, when brown and then throw in the vegetables -all but the spuds let them soak up beef.  Now, I'll marinade the beef ribs in Guinness ( two big Cans garlic cloves, and black pepper corns over night and into the next day.  A good 20 hours.  Remove the ribs and toss the marinade.

Out comes the Hamilton Beach and after the porcelain innards gets a good cleaning and returned to the tin frame, I'll set t on slow. . .as slow as an Oberlin Summa Cum Laude.

In go Guinness marinaded cow slats, which shall cook for a minimum of four hours covered in Guinness from the remaining two cans and then stir in the above mentioned Hickey Mix & Brown sugar, a can of whole tomatoes, some sliced garlic gloves and some pepper corns.  Then - now here comes the hard part - Stir all carefully. Put the glass lid on and step away from the pot.

After four hours and change,  I'll add the browned vegetables and stick the baby red spuds in a pot of ice cold water. Cook three more hours and stir in the roue.  If it is night time turn off the slow Cooker and stick the porcelain pot in the ice box. If not cook for another two hours or so

Then, it gets close to eatin' time.  I plan to make the Australian spuds.  You half-mash the red taters on a baking sheet, sprinkle them with olive oil, salt and pepper and bake like cookies in 450 Degree oven for twenty minutes.  Those are base for the marinaded ribs, if there be any meat left on the bone that is. Sprinkle with chopped parsley.  Guinness Is maith agat agus Guinness dhéanann oidis mór níos mó.

Eat until you perspire.  Make your son do the dishes . . .as if.

* The IHSA is considering proposals from certain schools ( losers) requiring that all schools qualify for the playoffs.  WE ARE ALL WINNERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Jesus.

Pat Elwood's Fox 32 Coverage of Francis Cardinal George's Blessing of Leo Buses

Here's the lede

Chicago News and Weather | FOX 32 News

Here's the Heart

Chicago News and Weather | FOX 32 News

Here's Our Newest Video Star

back row - Mike Joyce, Kimberly Hickey, front row, Amir Holmes, Francis Cardinal George ( undefeated) and James Davis
Chicago News and Weather | FOX 32 News

Please NOTE - Mike " Pickle" Joyce, Esq. ( 10-1 Pro Boxing career) is the Leo Head Boxing Coach and bears no resemblance to Miss Kimberly Hickey* our Math Teacher and Leo Assitant Boxing Coach.

* Miss Hickey is not a relative of the this post-hole digger and has no relative in Local # 399 IUOE.

Join Cardinal George and Leo Lions for the Bus Blessing - Monday Oct. 28th 9:30 AM

Want to feel great on a Monday morning?  Start next week by joining the Leo High School Family as Francis Cardinal George blesses our new vehicles, purchased by the Leo Alumni!

Who -Archbishop Francis Cardinal George to Bless Buses of Leo High School

What – Cardinal George will bless the two new buses purchased by Leo High School following the very successful Leo Express to Opportunity Campaign, which was co-chaired by His Eminence and Mr. Sam Leno '63.

The Leo Buses in a Row

Mr. Byrd, President Dan McGrath and Fleet Management Chief for Leo HS Harold Green

 Mr. Byrd, the Leo Bus Man, approves the fleet and its seats

Al Krieg of Midwest Transit Hands Leo President Danan McGrath the keys

Mr. Byrd The Leo Bus Man!

Where – Leo High School – 7901 South Sangamon Street – Chicago , IL 60620 -The Alumni Parking Lot on Sangamon Street west of the school.

When – October 28th, 2013 at 9:30 AM
Contact – Mr. Par Hickey, Director of Development
(773) 224 -9600 ex. 208, or

White House Squirts Zippo Fluid on Durbin's Smoldering Strides

Mother Earth, please  blow thy winds to my left -H. Reid

Hey, we've all been there - told a stretcher about something that might, just might mind you, add a little more cayenne to a yarn, but no one has told so many to no good purpose as Illinois Senior U.S. Senator Dick Durbin.  He once tried to make the treatment of terrorists by military personal a huge hoop-de-do -

"in their control, you would most certainly believe this must have been done by Nazis, Soviets in their gulags, or some mad regime–Pol Pot or others–that had no concern for human beings. Sadly, that is not the case. This was the action of Americans in the treatment of their prisoners." Durbin 2005

- and ended up with the handle of Durbin the Turban. Ouch.

When attempting to go all French Revolution on the 'wealthy' after President Obama's 2012 re-election the Senator from Illinois who wanted to move Gitmo Terrorists to Thompson Illinois said this - “The election was a pretty straight-up question as to whether or not we were going to raise taxes on the wealthiest people,”  Straight-up, Senator?

Dick Durbin's legislative accomplishments in the United States Senate ( banning smoking on airplanes) could have been done by a committee of the whole formed from the crowd of the early morning  'eye-opener' crowd at Wrong's Tap. Instead Senator Dick Durbin is the stand-in for Senate Majority Reader Harry Reid on TV, because Durbin's singular talent lies in his inability to say anything while sounding reasonable. It's tone thing . . .like a dial tone.

This week the words went on Facebook without the Sominex quality of the Durbin pipes -

In a Facebook post Sunday that remained up Wednesday night, Durbin wrote:
"Many Republicans searching for something to say in defense of the disastrous shutdown strategy will say President Obama just doesn't try hard enough to communicate with Republicans. But in a 'negotiation' meeting with the president, one GOP House Leader told the president: 'I cannot even stand to look at you.'

Man, this social media is killing the White House this week!

The Decatur Potater's words went viral.  For the last month so, Dithering Dick has gone from Gramps equating opponents of Obamacare to two year-olds, or dopes,     “At this point they have dealt themselves out of this process,” Senate Democratic Whip Dick Durbin (D-Ill.) said of the House. “They cannot agree among themselves. That makes it extremely difficult to take them seriously. ”

The Facebook piece would not have gone viral if the words were uttered by Dithering Dick, the Catholic who pumps up the abortion industry, I believe.  However, they lacked Durbin's nap-inducing tones and inflections.  They needed a nod from Jay Carney,  instead,  the Asbestos Britches of Brand Obama shot a full stream Zippo fluid all over Dithering Dick's smokin' Dad and Lads.

Obama spokesman Jay Carney, speaking Wednesday to reporters, said he looked into Durbin's account and spoke to somebody who was at the meeting, and "it did not happen."

Lawd, lawd. lawdy!

I am a Democrat.   Dick Durbin is what the Democrats want themselves to be - tools of public service unions, Planned Parenthood and banking houses that get rich from social justice programs.  Dick Durbin is part of the crowd that make up fill-in cast for MSNBC, like Jan Schakowsky and Mike Quigley.

They played ball with the Progressives, were handsomely rewarded and now twist in the wind.

Harry Truman attended public funerals of people he considered friends, devil take public opinion.

Democrats were loyal at one time.  Barack Obama is no Harry Truman.  Durbin's pants are on fire and Brand Obama fans the flames.

Oh, well. Save the whoppers for the Rev. Al Show, or Andy Shaw's son-in-law Chris Hayes on MSNBC, Senator they have audio and are impervious to reality.

Just Study The ObamaCare Template -' It's Very Good!'

Hey, He didn't build that!  There's no Building in www.Obama.gov
But Old # 44 went all Billy Mays on America yesterday and I caught it, along with a bugger of flu bug.

"There's no sugarcoating it. The website has been too slow. People have been getting stuck during the application process," Obama said. "There's no excuse for the problems. ... These problems are getting fixed."  . . .

"While the website will ultimately be the easiest way to purchase insurance though the marketplace, it isn't the only way," he said. He added that more staff have also joined the exchanges' call centers, which have been reached by calling 1 (800) 318-2596.

Just study  The ObamaCare Template - starring  Marx Brothers: Dana Milbank and David Brooks




Every job completed is a portrait of the artists who completed the work.

How many Community Activists does it take to screw up America?

One is plenty

Sebelius Will be Gone Before She Testifies to Congress

Money, marbles, or chalk - HHS Secretary and Planned Parenthood Operative Kathleen Sebelius will be a private citizens hours before she is expected to testify about her command of ObamaCare Rollout, her war on the Catholic Church and her career as an abortion industry mouthpiece.

Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, under fire for the glitch-filled rollout of Obamacare, intends to testify on Capitol Hill “as early as next week,” according to an HHS spokeswoman.

“We fully intend for the secretary and other HHS officials to testify before Congress as early as next week, as they have numerous times in the past, but nothing is confirmed at this time,” HHS spokeswoman Joanne Peters said.

“We have always indicated to the committee that she intended to testify but that she had a scheduling conflict,” Peters added. “We continue to work with them to find a mutually agreeable date in the near future.”

Firefighter/ Writer Matt Drew's " Shadows of Chicago" is a Read as Tall as Its Subject

Matt Drew Firefighter and author. (DNAinfo.com)


The Devil in White City the Chicago history we usually get in WTTW specials was made sexy and marketable by posting the core narrative with a sex criminal.  The historical packaging was pretty much standard Studs Terkel approved history.   That best-selling book is being made into a film.

Chicago Fireman and writer Matthew Drew writes a Chicago saga worthy of Cinerama at the Old Michael Theatre on Dearborn. Within the acute angles of his three subjects, Charlie Comiskey, Big Jim Horan and Mayor Fred Busse,  swirl events and personalities with real Chicago spark. No agenda stuffed frauds - Shoeless Joe Jackson was a working-class hero who only stuffed his bibs  with Hundos, because the Old Roman was a cheapskate - the Studs Terkel meme.

A few years back serious Chicago scholars like former Fire Commissioner Jim Joyce and former DEA agent Rick Barrett snapped knuckles on the noggins of dozing Chicago's smart set with events, books and press opportunities focused on the valor of Chicago first respond-ers with interest in horrific Stockyard Fire of  1910 and the murder of Police Constable Jeremiah Sullivan.   Scholarship on Chicago's actual history seems to be best found in the hands of working men, like Barrett and Joyce. Pretend history is handled very nicely by  politicians political columnists and academics - Jane Addams invented the eight hour day, the Baby Ruth candy bar and the can-can.

This summer another working class scholar, Matt Drew published Shadows of Chicago: The True Story of Three Men and the Crimes That Shocked America. Matthew Drew is a Chicago firefighter who teaches firefighting tactics at University of Illinois.  The book looks at the lives of three men, a baseball player-mogul.a fireman and a mayor.

The sweep and force of the book comes from the cast of personalities who weave through the lives of these interesting men - Dever, Powers, Powderly, Swift, Capone, Rothstein, Cobb, Harrison, Armour, Dunne, and Buck Weaver.  One character that sparks a fire in my little brain-pan was fireman Albert Moriarty ( pp.131-32) the brother of professional baseball players George and William. George, Matt Drew tells his reader, played for Ty Cobb's Detroit Tigers.

George Moriarty is the grandfather of my pal the famed actor, composer, musician and writer Michael Moriarty. 

Every Chicago reader, unencumbered by historical miasma that fogs our fabricated Chicago history, will find a connection like the one that I mentioned and breath in fresh ideas.  Real history, from Herodatus to Drew, manages to do just that.

Here is fine review of Matthew Drew's fine book.
http://www.forestparkreview.com/News/Articles/9-10-2013/1910-Stockyard-fire-tale-told-in-firefighter's-new-book/

The Pimpslapeur Approach to Shocking Language Works!

Language, even shocking language, requires a bit of commitment.  There are all manner of approaches to language via linguistics.  Linguistics is the study of tongues . . .not literal tongues; rather, the sounds made by tongue clacking slurping and clucking from the old pie hole. You know, speech . . .talk . . .stuff w

I have read and heard advertisements for such language approaches as Rosetta Stone, Pimsleur, and Esperanto Espresso, or Grunt.   I remember taking speed-reading lessons in eighth grammar school based upon Gestalt peripheral reading exercises.  We watched a TV show.  In pre-PC times we would talk ethnic Jewish and Italian until  'Hey!it's became too cold talk!'

I learned Latin and English and used to have a pretty fair command of conversational Spanish.  I can read French and some German thanks to English and Latin lessons.  The language that has really influenced me in my three score years here is Shocking Language.

Shocking Language was learned de la famille, at school, the workplace and most especially the playground. Shocking language happens because shock is easily apprehended even by the tiniest of tots.  A recent University of Maine study attests to the signal advantage shocking language affords lonely, hurt, vulnerable and frustrated children.

I am by nature and inclination a standing eight count.  My earliest childhood memories are honeyed with uncles' knuckles to back of the noggin, sharp words and threats of violence only majesty Cinerama in Technicolor could capture the moment.  Nothing like a whack with a 2X4 on the bridge of nose to one's attention - ' Did you HEAR me, Patrick?'

My name is shocking trochaic dimeter - stress/unstress: PAT rick/ HICKey.  I hear one, or two feet of that and I cover up in the fetal position, awaiting almost certain to arrive buffets and bootings.  No one ever good news'd me with PAT rick, let lone PAT rick/HICK,ey. Shocking.

We can say shocking things as children.  Our infant musings are taken cum grano salis by most adults, except elected officials.  " My Dad, says you got crabs, Mr. DiCola!!"

We were all at one time pygmy Joe Bidens.

My son Conor,at age three,  followed a morbidly obese man around the Amtrak train platform in Niles Michigan explaining to all and sundry -"He likes Cake!  That man likes his Cake!  You like Cake Mister?  That guy likes cake!"  followed by a very maternal muzzling from his wide-eyed Mammy!  I was of absolutely no help, whatsoever.

Scatologically graphic words, phrases and imagery can shock, as much as sexually graphic offenses verbal universal.  However those are much too common, churlish and MTV for our tastes. Such language is only appropriate for persons behind the wheel of an automobile being challenged by Hipsters on bicycles.

Rather, let's consider the application of Shocking Language borne by iconoclastic view masters of the world's sense of propriety.

I was introduced to the parents of prospective students by our marginally educated principal as " Mr. Hickey, Our BeKnighted English Teacher!"

I assured the parents that their two boys would be instructed with more than a few moments of lucidity in my care and assured the shocked Mom and Dad that my grasp of vocabulary exceed the command of my superior Ms. Sheepshanks, a State certified job holder.

The parents were charmed and enrolled their children ASAP.  The educator remains benighted. Shocking language helps, once apprehended as homophone failure sounding  from a Peter Principled Principal..

My Old buddy DooDah Ma#$% of LaPorte County, Indiana was charged with assault following an imbroglio at the Prairie Tavern (PT) in Rolling Prairie. Doodah looked like Randall 'Tex' Cobb on a windy day and was a superior bartender and judge of human worth.

A serial lawsuit perpetrator had staked out PT as his latest victim and pretended to be hurt.  Doodah ushered the man out with some brio and the man's false teeth fell to the floor.  Doodah was asked by the judge about the events.  Doodah explained, " Your Honor, the gentleman in question made a general threat to one and all upon entering.  I detected . . . .smelled you Honor . . . the pungent aroma of marijuana upon his person and asked him to leave.  He refused and gently escorted the man making this accusation to the door. At the door, this man returned my courtesies and patience with hocker spat in my direction which I dodged."

The robed County magistrate was spell bound, " What then Mr. Mag#$%?"

" I bitch-slapped him, " replied well-spoken tap-tun.

"Please, explain Mr. Mag#$%," encouraged the jurists." I whacked him in the chops with back of my hand Your Honor . . .you know . . .a bitch slap?"

"Continue, MR. Ma#$%, ordered the Hoosier Black Robe.

" I picked up the man's bridge work washed it off in the sink and returned the undamaged choppers to the larcenous dope smoker. . ." and with a majestic sweep of his arm announced, " in full view of twenty sober and industrious Christians, now Present, Your Honor!"

Case dismissed.

Shocking language?  Shocking testimony and shockingly sound judgment.

The Real Skinny - Jim Sheahan a Marathon of a Man.

Skinny and his consigliere William Tang ( two-guys center) at a recent Bocce Ball Tournament.  

We have giants among us, but we never really notice them because we are too busy viewing all the pygmies grabbing the attention - celebrities, bust-out millionaires, lawyers with cowboy hats, thugs and elected officials..

Those of us lucky enough to live in a neighbor meet giants every day.  People who actually devote their time, talent and treasure to other people.

James "Skinny" Sheahan is a giant.

This video says it all.

God graced us with great people.

The Can't Miss 'Tribune New Plan of Chicago' - The Escher Template

This can't miss!



Macro Escherian* Plan of Chicago

Busy Chicagoans scurry about their particular . . . what's another word for business . . .walk of life . . .yeah that's good . . .walk of life.  Very secular PC and NPR monotone  Yeah, Walk of Life.

Chicagoans, under the Old Plan, walked with great speed and purpose.   “New York for a moment does not compare with Chicago in the roar and bustle and bewilderment of its street life, ”  wrote the Scottish writer William Archer. The winner of the 1st Pulitzer for fiction was Chicago investment house scion turned Marxist Ernest Poole, wrote in 1940 of the wild Mack Sennett quality of Chicago pedestrians fighting time and the bridges over the Chicago River to meet appointments.

I remember reading accounts of the break-neck pace of Chicagoans in the Daniel Burnham days of the Columbian Exhibition, which produced the first moving sidewalk - now, a feature of most airports.  Also, notable the Parliament of World Religions, absent Roman Catholics and Jews it seems, kick-started the one world-ism  Godless secular spiritualism template for Progressives that is so evident in 2013.

Chicagoans needed to slow-down and reconsider un-born children as a root cause for misery, only equaled by Woman's Suffrage, Prohibition and Theosophical Governance of the many, by the few and for the few

The post-Burnham Chicago saw the American Middle Class.  The post-1972 Democratic Convention Chicago worked for forty years to erase the American Middle Class.  Chicagoans are told what to think and do by people born in Southern Illinois or Highland Park, Illinois.  Real 2013 Chicagoans came from elsewhere with scads of disposable income thickened by shrewd political investments with government sinecures.

Imagine if each individual Chicagoan had the earnest, forthright, vapid and compelling resume of a Forrest Claypool (Parks, Salaried boards, County Board, CTA), moving with unchecked ease up onto another level of sweet-paying  unaccountable walk of life.   Now, that would be something.  Big Plans!

Breeders will be  and should be encouraged to take their walk of life outside of the City proper and enter only when needed to build, clean, serve and protect Chicago - the smaller, smarter safer Chicago.



Micro Escherian Plan of Chicago Small Communities -formerly known as neighborhoods.

Neighborhood is code for homophobic, close-knit ethnic breeders - non minorities; equally Un Evolved Minorities live in Communities: The Un-Evolved whose children get killed on Safe Passages, clamor for better schools for those children, go to church, work at jobs, pay taxes, fees and fines, but get upset about Ventra Cards, Divvy bike terminals taking up parking spaces and cameras. They can take their private schools with them, unless they can turned into Charters or Magnets out of the Smart Sized Esherian Chicago.

In the grand scheme of things, an individual will reside in some geographic garbage grid, unencumbered by a biologically workable spouse and the subsequent spawn . . .with his/her large dog taken out to open air and enclosed cafes on his/her walk of life.

Think big - think Escher; think like Medill.

* M.C. Escher: Maurits Cornelis -Call me "Mauk!" Escher -Dutch Graphic Artist 1998-1972.
aka -Macro Chicago Escher
aka -Micro Chicago Escher

Tales of the South Side: Breakfast at Tiffany's Reviewed by Kondike " Moose" Cholak

Man, I took a beating in April of 1965. That was not my best year by far.  The Nun I had for the tail-end of Sixth Grade at Little Flower told my folks that I was 'retarded, obstinate, disorganized and destined for bad end.' To say that I was a miscreant little jerk is not a stretch and I remain less than anal retentive in my assault upon tasks. However, bad end?  I think not.  I have been saved by great folks.

Immediately following one of my numerous extra curricular Pre-May Crowning beat-downs by Sister Beautificus, RSM, I accompanied two pals Tom Scanlon and Bernie Weber eastward in  the alley between 80th & &79th Street.. In their company,  I took my first cigarette, actually my second, my first I got from Uncle Mike.  This was my first outside of the tribal circle.  My companions were considered a bad lot in the common-room of the school's convent,  whose families lived in the apartments along Ashland Avenue on the Little Flower side.  One guy, Tom, is now a retired school psychologist and the other, Bernie, became a much decorated Chicago fireman, also retired.  We all three had written satirical essays on the upcoming May Crowning, which offended Sister Beautificus, who asked me, 'What would your Father say if he saw this?'  I waited a second, timing is everything, " Who you think wrote most of its, S'ter?"  Flesh and bone was now open for business. Messy desks, slipshod arithmetic no SRA work done in weeks built the hooded Black and White into a Torrent of Spring Fury!  I took it on the cheeks, the ears, the snot-locker and even the gums, as did my boon chums.  We celebrated this blood-bond with a pack of Chesterfields snitched from Tom's Mom's purse. 

Upon the celebratory light-up, Bernie's Dad's car came bouncing through the then unpaved alley at a great clip.  Old Man Weber had seen us in the act,

 " Bernie, get your rump home now!  Immediately, if not sooner.  Hickey - I'll see your old man, when he gets off work and stops at Billy Ellis's.  Hi Tom!  How's your Mom?"

Mrs. Scanlon was a widow who worked for the Phone Company over on Stewart and was considered by every pater familias to be easy on the eyes. .

"Fine, Mr. Weber, "  Scanlon, obviously off the hook, spirited the rumpled pack of Chesterfield's in my jacket pocket and tore ass south at the intersection of Marshfield and the alley.  Mr. Weber glared at me, " You're as big a smart-ass as your Uncle Bart.  I told Bernie to stay the Hell away from you. Bernie, beat it!  You, Mr. Hickey, make yourself scarce."

Swell. A brace of great communications concerning the fruit of his loins to candy Dad's ears, prior to his twenty minutes at home before he had to go his other job at the Beverly Theatre.  Nun Battery followed by the manly art of snitching a nail.  "I am well and truly screwed," I determined with no prodding from the audience, whatsoever. Smart Lad!  I fired up another smoke and walked across Ashland Ave. to the Highland Theater - home of the Hercules versus Viet Cong and other B Movies.. There was always sexy and salacious movie posters to heighten a lad's trip to the Saturday Confessional.  Always, a grand idea to tempt oneself.

 I stood in the ticket bay of Highland Theatre on Ashland and smoked another Chesterfield with the existential fatalism of Sartre, jilted by some swell French Dame in tight sweater and tighter black slit skirt..  I looked at ads of upcoming movies that I would never see.  A gruff but familiar voice assaulted my pornographic musings, " Spit out that butt, Kid." Jesus!!!!!!!

Cop? Uncle?  No. Ignatius the school janitor?  Nope. I turned to see furrowed brows and dashing side burns, bushy eye brows and Goliath-like terror of none other than Klondike Moose Cholak - The Wrestling Foe of Man and Beast!.

The man eclipsed the waning western sun beaming on the tar roof of Billy Ellis' Wooden House, where the Old Man stopped for a Hamms and a Vinegar and Oil ( Seagrams VO Canadian).  The Star of Saturday afternoon pre-Confessional Wrestling, brought to me by Ben's Auto Sales on South Western Ave., snapped,  " Weed's for sissies, book-worms and sob-sisters, kid."

Uh,uh stammered I ,  " I just tried 'cuz the guys and me . . ."

Moose Cholak glared at me, " Hey, save it for Aunt Gertie!  You wanna end up being be some pencil neck, no good for anybody, salad eater, Boy?"

Given my proclivities of the tongue, I was more than familiar with the rhetorical question at this tender age and checked my natural tendency go all Noel Coward with Klondike Moose Cholak.

Rather, I penitently answered properly, "No sir."

With folded arms and a broad smile of avuncular approval, Klodike Moose Cholak ordered me to pick up the cast away cylinder of sin and put it in the cement ashtray near the curb like a good boy and then waxed poetic, " Breakfast at Tiffany's,  kid. That's what smoking'll do for you and our whole county. You know, that they made it a movie a couple years back with that skinny broad from My Fair Lady.? Now, pay attention! The guy who wrote the story about that  skirt what liked to shop and hang around with fairies and rich creeps, started smoking at your age.  I saw him on Suskind's TV show, when I couldn't go back to sleep last week and it stuck with me.  This tiny little bald  guy with a pixie voice said his mom was some hillbilly hooker and that he started smoking as a little guy and it stunted his growth, made his hair fall out and talk like a girl. That's no way, Kid. Now,  where's that saloon what's called The Wooden House?"

I pointed to the northwest corner of 79th & Ashland and corrected the wrestler, " We call it Billy Ellis's around here."

With a smile, Moose offered this valediction, " You got some lip on you kid. A  lip on you that' would trip a pig."

How could one come to bad end in this urban Arcadia?

I have not had a cigarette, since breakfast.