Every Chicagoan knows that when you go to Chris, Jimm and Gus's Big Baby Breakfast at the corner of Whipple and Wherever and you order eggs in any manifestation - Scrambled ( if a suburban tight ass), fried, omeletted, poached over hash, or boiled ( Irish female octogenarian), you get double or triple your order.
Thus, if you feel like two or three fried eggs, sunny side up, order ONE.
Greeks always give more.
John Kass hit one to the long fences today in covering the Fire-in-the-Kitchen at the Dickerson Center- the Blago Deadlock Mystery.
Here's your order, Honey! First you get some cold tomato juice with a dash of Tabasco and lemon -
After listening to all those the TV talking heads breathlessly speculating on the jury's recent cryptic note in the case of former Gov. Dead Meat, the big issue remains unanswered:
Is Rod Blagojevich going to be making those Big House Tamales crafted with ingredients from the federal prison commissary for the next 7 to 10 years, or isn't he?
Good start - now, look at the heaping and steaming platter!
Despite all the theories tossed about after the jury delivered the note Wednesday to U.S. District Judge James Zagel, here's the thing.
Nobody knows what it means. I don't. Rod Blagojevich doesn't. Certainly the lawyers don't.
"We don't know what it means," said Michael Ettinger, lawyer for Rod's brother and co-defendant Robert Blagojevich. "The judge doesn't know what it means. I assume they are hung on my client, but I don't know."
So nobody knows. And you don't, either, unless you're a juror, and if you are, then you better stop reading this right now or Judge Zagel will get medieval on you.
So after getting all high and mighty and criticizing my TV colleagues for speculating, it would be most unfair for me to engage in speculation.
Hash Browned Prose -Crispy!
In the annals of human history, there have been only two times that the impish grin has been wiped completely from the face of Rod Blagojevich.First, there was that time when the FBI called him about 6 a.m. to tell him they were coming through his bungalow door to arrest him. And he thought it was his good buddy, then state Sen. Jimmy DeLeo, D-How You Doin?, making a practical joke.
Jimmy? Is that you? Jimmy?
No, it was Rob Grant, the special agent in charge of the Chicago FBI office.
And the second time the grin was wiped off was Wednesday, when he got the call to get down to the courthouse immediately because the jury had something to say.
By the time he arrived, he had been able to force at least half the smile back on his face. Walking past reporters, he wisecracked, "Missed you guys."
But inside, without a jury to play to, the infuriating grin was gone. Instead, he patted his head a number of times, running his fingers over the back of his prodigious mane. But nervously, not like Mr. Cool
This is huge platter with good stuff that will stick to Chicago's ribs cascading over the edges! Good Lord, I'm sweating like a whore in Church, but I gotta keep going! This stuff is great! I'll walk it off later! I'm still working on this, but you can start working on the bill.
After the eggs and spoon vitals, Murial, dig into the meat on the Dead Meat Saga -
Zagel said he would ask the jury for clarification, and that he'd tell them it was possible for a jury to return a unanimous decision on some counts but not others.
Lawyers were told to return to court at 11 a.m. Thursday. That's going to fuel even more speculation by us gum flappers who don't know any more than do you.
Notwithstanding the "deliberated without rancor" line from the Perry Masons on the jury, Zagel had kind words for the panel.
He told the lawyers that the jurors were "exceptionally disciplined" and that he hadn't once heard them fighting in the jury room.
The remark about not hearing them fight was delivered in the well-known dry Zagelian monotone — which can be earnest or witheringly sarcastic, depending on his mood. And that fueled even more guesswork.
Does this mean they're getting along, so they're about to convict? Or is it that they're so angry with each other that they've stopped talking altogether, the way my wife gets when we're in the car and I've just said something really stupid?
How in God's name anyone would go to a milky, insipid, and stingy source for news-commentary or breakfast, other than a heroic Greek, is way beyond me.
Mickey D's addicted Chicagoans passed on a great Greek in 2002 and we settled on former Governor Dead Meat.
Great thought and soul breakfast John Kass.
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