My M(etamorphosis) Squad Morning

I woke up a different man.  I'm Frank Ballinger - M Squad.  M stands for Metamorphosis.  This is Chicago -my kind of town.

I went to bed Pat Hickey and woke up Frank Ballinger. Yeah, I woke him up.  He was staying with me.  That's how come I woke up a different man. See?

You don't.

Maybe it was being in the Flatiron District, - Bucktown, of Chicago - you know the concrete streets packed with guys wearing sandals, cotton strides, goatees and straw fedoras, all looking for that next kick whether to themselves or the old guy in chinos, Thomm McCann's and really bad mood.  All the female talent he pipes on cool April sidewalks and cooing from the open-air gin mills on Milwaukee Ave. are tattooed and pieced and maybe that sets his V-8 in neutral and over-works the radiator. . .I don't know. Maybe, it was the fact that he had to wait for the lady with the baby smooth skin and that frame that could lure Thomas Merton out of monk convention in Tibet. Maybe.

Yeah, that might have it.

No, the fact is that he knew he'd been made an A Number One chump not eight hours ago.

Yeah, me.  Patrick Francis Thomas Aquinas Hickey - Chump Gold Card Member.  That's who hit the sack last night anyway. He'd pieced together all the clues.  He'd been set up by "Drew." Yeah, me.  Mr. Street Wise - not the fine $2 paper sold by members of Chicago's Homeless Community, no not that Street Wise -got taken by a thirty something hipster and his late model black Chrysler SUV plate number Illinois R 64-3592.

I was parked in the 1800 block of West North Avenue - the pathway to hip and the playground to the cool.  My turf is square. This turf is triangular and a square within a triangle is trapped - like this:  That's me N and B is some other guy out of his element.  N is me on North Ave. between Honore and Walcott.

I'm parked, like I said, on North Ave . . .the 1800 block of West North Avenue . . .what am I boring you, Princess?  Yeah, I guess I am at that.

I had business with a lady on the south side of North and that's none of your business.  Business was good.  Me?  Not so much.

I'm parked like I said. When business is over I walk the chic chick to her car parked on Hermitage just north of North Avenue.  When business is over and I shed myself of the heart breaker and her pleas for me to stay just bit more, I hike it back to North Avenue where I'm parked and my ticket has time to spare on my dash board so I don't need to pay Mayor Coon Eyes any more of my earned loot.

I have less than a foot or so to back up, because a late model black Chrysler SUV has insinuated itself dangerously close to the bumper of my 2008 grey Malibu.  There's room to spare ahead of me and I have been know around the south side as ONE SWING MAN adept.  I eased back, nevertheless erring on the side of caution . . ., when shouts of " How does this????" interrupted by bangs on the passenger side of my blitz interrupts my maneuver.

" Hey, Man!  You hit my car!  Don't even think about leaving!"

Never crossed my mind. I slide out and assess.  There is damage to SUV, but nothing to show from the laws of physics on my coupe.

" We better exchange information," shouts the tall, handsome thirty-something who claims to have been on the sidewalk of 1800 W. North Ave. he had golden Lab in the back of the late model black Chrysler SUV plate number R 64-3594.

I gave the tall guy my license and insurance card. He I-phone snapped pictures of both and handed them back to me.  I asked for his information and he said, that his name was " Drew!"  He got in his SUV and drove off.

Yeah, that stuff dripping from my whiskers comes from chickens.  Some chump. " Wait," I shouted like the grammar school class twerp who has had his Harry Potter magician hat grabbed by the regular guys and thinks that " Give it Back!" will solve any unhappiness. Yeah.

Pat Hickey went to bed and woke up Frank Ballinger.  Frank Ballinger ain't happy.  Frank Ballinger will check in with CPD District 14 about the events on the 1800 block of west North Avenue at approximately 6:45 PM.  

Three Generations of Dweebs

This trio reminds me of the three generations of dweebs who disturbed my sauna with three KGB agents in 1989 They were pan-generational creeps sharing some bad DNA.  All fit, all health conscious, all self-important and gold-plated assholes to a man.

The three KGB agents of whom I spoke were . . .how shall I say  this? . . .busting out of Boys Huskies and squeezing into Portlies - Thus!

They were fun, funny and fearless gentlemen.  We got along.

Good genes make for . . .good genes. . .?  Well, who am I to judge?  Allow me.

I have a very disciplined and healthy regard for the human condition so long as the character/personality thermostats of the individuals encountered  happen to be set just to my liking and considered judgment.

I delight in the company of my fellow man, so long as he conforms to the rigorous, but indefinable virtues which make us brothers, regardless of race, religion, culture, income, level of education, sexual preferences or political point of view.

I once took a steam and a dip in the old McCormick Inn hotel pool with a trio of delightful pre-Fall of the Wall KGB agents.  It was 1989 and my father-in-law owned, edited and published the Will County Farmers Weekly Review and a wonderful portmanteau came into my vocabulary - Due Bill. Quite simply, my wife, kids and I could stay at either the McCormick Inn or the Essex Hotel on Michigan Ave.and pay only the taxes and parking.  Shipwrecked 1907 Heidseick purchased with a Red White and Blue wallet. We booked a suite at McCormick Inn while on some winter school break.  The Bolshoi was jigging up a storm at the Aire Crown Theatre in McCormick Place; hence the KGB guys. My daughter Nora had just turned 4 and I took her for an indoor swim.  We were dog paddling along when a Tsunami drenched us - actually it was three endomorphic Russkies in speedos.  Now, I am no chiseled and sculpted Steve Stunning myself, but I'd hang around shirtless with these three any day.  They were far from harmless lard-asses.

Nora chirped, "What's that in their trunks Dad? Candy bars?"

Wedged snugly in the 'crack' in the back of each was a weapon.  A knife.  This was affirmed by each of the three - " Yezz iz knife bud dunt waree Dahdah. Iz Ogay."  Each of three Godless Commies commenced to spalsh Nora and she them.

My wife came down and toweled her off for the trip up to our suite.  I introduced the lovely redhead to the beet-eating coppers and they were charm in troika.  Mary had the foresight to bring a mini cooler full of Augsburger beer and dragged Nora from her new Slav-nik buddies upstairs to dress.  We four round -mounds of renown repaired to the sauna with a cooler full of high-end Hubers.

We talked Perestroika, Pedagogy and Puskin.  They had all fought in the Afghan War. They all three loved Ronald Reagan and could not understand why I did not vote for him.  They all agreed that things would change -"VahRee Fest, Frund Patschu."  They did.  But, that was at the end of 80's and dawn of this current age of NPR-addicted loud-mouths. This is The Age of People who obsess over other people and how they live their lives, think, eat and pray.

Russians smoke ( cigarettes) up a storm and the three agents ( 'proDeKding DainZers') had the sauna steam a nice Shanghai Yellow with cooked Virginny tobaccy! Ween'Stones

Into our happy sauna arrived a shit heel, a douche bag, in a non_Portanteau, a dweeb, his Prep-ily long-haired son and the Thomas Gainsboprough stand-in grandson,  aged about twelve. Pater was a Saltine-chested WASP dandy ( most guys do not wear neck-kerchiefs from Abercombie & Fitch in a sauna - most guys in here at the time) who sniffed assessed and Grandee'd in pissy little voice " Are you PEOPLE smoking in here?  What is WRONG with you!  Haven't you heard C. Evert Koop?  Second Hand Smoke!  Get it?!???!!!!!   Oakes, ( fils) go for the manager!  Sit here with me Cameron.( petit-fils").

Cameron opined, in the pissy voix de la famille, on the looming proximity of three cancer diagnoses. Too much 'me-time' for young Master Cameron at Warfield, it seemed.

I mentioned that the three gentlemen were security for the Bolshoi and Cotton Mather* held up his talons, " I supposed you are feeding the beer."

I went South Side-Lite( no obscenities)  for a second, " Hey, calm down, Pal."

The three KGB gentlemen eye-brow signalled me, " We're outta here."

Before we parted the biggest of three big guys whispered in my ear -"ESS-howls." I replied, yes they are all that and then some.  He continued, " We hev meny such et howum. Sem Wurld!"

The KGBig Boys invited the Hickeys to the Bolshoi that night. It was glorious! In fact they sat us next to Mr. T.  Mr. T was a delight as well and wowed a four year old girl already wowed by the Bolshoi and her KGB pool playmates.

They were three gentlemen.  Mr. T is a gentleman.

Most folks are great, but assholes can really suck the oxygen out of our planet.

* Cultural observation: Rich WASP's seem to live on the cheap more than any blue-collar slob i ever met - why else were these Puritans camping at the McCormick.

Mickey Rooney Passed?

Accomplished entertainer, Hollywood legend, eight-time groom, Mickey Rooney passed away.

Congressman and career grifter Wee Mike Quigley will carry on. 

Catholic and Private School Families Continue to " Carry the Turf"

Children carrying turf to pay their school fees from 'The Graphic' on this day in 1888.

Paying tuition is an obligation parents assume when they want their children educated in America.   Public schools are paid for by tax payers, including the families who send their children to non-public schools - they pay twice; once, for every one else's children and again for their own.

Private education comes in several forms. There are what are known as Tier One schools - elite schools endowed and patronized by wealth. Schools such as University of Chicago Lab Schools, Latin School, Frances Parker, Lake Forest Academy and North Shore Country Day are Tier One schools - some rooted in a Mainline Protestant denomination past, or purely secular. These schools tend to have the highest tuition rates and are exclusive.

Then there are Parochial schools of which Catholic schools are the most prominent. There are Dutch Reformed, Lutheran, Jewish and Muslim schools. These schools operate on tuition and gifts alone for revenue and some are becoming almost as costly as Tier One schools.  Catholic schools have always depended upon the support of the parish, or a religious congregation.  Today, parishes struggle to maintain enrollment numbers that match tuition paying families.  Due to the decades of lost vocations to religious orders, Catholic schools are more often than not operated and managed by Catholic lay persons. Tuition support comes from lay operated foundations like the Big Shoulders Fund and private foundations.

Public Education outlaws Vouchers which would allow genuine, fair and reform inducing competition via its threats to and campaign financing of  members of both political parties in the Illinois legislature and local governments. That is how it is.

Catholic schools in America were founded by Irish immigrants very much familiar with "School Choice" policies in Ireland.    Catholic schools educated millions of Americans with standards that remain today in most Catholic schools.

Families continue to sacrifice for their children and students themselves are no strangers to the burdens placed on their parents, often working off tuition in the schools themselves.  They carry the turf.

Elected mediocrities (Durbin, Quinn, et al.)  who benefited from a Catholic education* are the most strident foes of School Reform.  They have selective memories linked only to pious platitudes mouthed at a St. Paddy's Day breakfast, or in a hall full of Hibernians. Memory is the first thing annihilated by tyrants, frauds and mediocrities.

Tuition is the turf you carry.

Irish hedge school heritage
The hedge schools in Ireland were founded under the penal laws in Ireland in the 17th century. No Catholic could teach, no building could serve as a school, underpenalty of law.
Outlaw teachers
So it began that outlawed teachers taught children and traveling "strangers" in the open air. One child might serve as a lookout for the authorities. The teacher might get paid in butter or with a few shillings.
Classes taught included Latin, Greek, Arithmetic, Reading and Writing. Originally it was all done in the Irish language. The Irish language was one thing that theauthorities wanted to eradicate.
The end of the schools
As time went on, laws would allow for a school building, and the Irish actually got their own schools in the 19th century. Some hedge schools continued, but theyfaded from view and disappeared for the most part by the time of the famine.Student responsibilities
If necessary, each student was required to carry a brick or two of turf to school when it was cold outside. The turf would then supply heat during the school day for everyone.

 *School/Choice and Vouchers in Illinois3/1/2014 8:00:00 PM By Mike Yurgec -Contributor
As a parent of a child in Catholic school, every year I am faced with the same thing the rest of the parents face - the property tax bill. I am very troubled with the fact I pay for a public school system I never use. My child will never darken the doorstep of that building and yet, more that 60% of my property taxes go to fund that project. For us and many others, that is several thousand dollars a year going to a public funding project we will never use.We all know why we send our children to Catholic school. The reasons are many. But the underlying fact is we pay extra to send our children there in addition to funding a public school system our children will never use. This is "taxation without representation". If you recall, there was a revolution started over this in 1776.
I have heard other parents say, "I can't afford to send my child to Catholic school." The facts are these; YES - you can afford to send your child to Catholic school if you were allowed to spend the tax money confiscated from your bank account to fund a public school to pay for your child's tuition! You see, if we were allowed to spend our tax dollars to fund our child's education in a Catholic school system, there would be more funding for that system, more children in that system, and better results from that system. We could fund better schools and better pay for our teachers and administrators.
We need all of the Catholic parents across this state to stand up and be counted. If we all took the stand of "No School Choice - No Support" to our legislators, the law will change. It would have to change. According to the website Catholic-Heirarchy.org, there are over 165,000 Catholic parents, grand parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, and sisters in the Springfield Diocese alone. In Illinois, there are over 4,950,000 Catholics. The politicians have to listen to us at the risk of their own political peril!
Ask your local, state, and federal legislator this question, "Do you support school choice?" If not - why not?! And be sure to tell them your vote is vested in their position to support school choice. Please - do it now!
Thank you!
Mike Yurgec
Sherman Illinois

Cooking With an Amana Dryer and a Taste for Adventure!

"Sorry, Borman, there'll be no left-overs on this meal spinning in te Amana!"

I am a pretty good journeyman cook - not a chef mind you.  I can whip up a very tasty skillet full of wholesome goodness and plate up treats for the kids that will have them howling for seconds.

Smoking meats and fish, grilling and the peanut oil boiling of birds have been paths upon which I trod and loosened the leggings of delighted guests with modest to wild success.

Now, following this winter of our discontent and seepage in the basement with its attendant mold, Spring calls dryer methods to mind.

My Dryer. My Dryer will serve to remedy the hunger that the hoary days of these last four months roil in our tummies.  My Peoples Gas bill is paid up, so let's get cooking.

First,  La omellet de démarrage d'un ouvrier avec des oignons, de l'ail, fromage irlandais et polonais saurkraut et saucisse mexicaine par Hickey!

One dozen eggs
1- pound of good Bobaks Polish Sauerkraut
1-pound of Kerry Gold Irish White Cheddar (shredded)
1- pound of Cacique Chorizo
1-White Onion chopped
1-Red Onion chopped
1-Vadalia Onion chopped
1-Stalk of Celery Whole
1-Bunch of Cilantro chopped
9- cloves of pealed garlic
One pair of good of Red Wing -Irish Setter Work Boots ( L&R) new if possible.
A good stout plub 5" in diameter
Standard gas operated Domestic Dryer. Pre-heat to Real Hot.
Duct Tape -la seule chose qui va faire!

In a large bowl break, add and beat the dozen of eggs. Salt and pepper to taste and add a splash of water, milk, or cream. I like to add paprika, but that is just me.  Toss in the onions, cilantro and garlic.  Hold the celery.

Pour the egg mixture evenly into each boot, tie up the laced and cap with a good stout plug of some sorts and duct tape any and all openings.

Toss in the boots and the big old stalk of celery. Autoriser L'Omelette roulée!!!!!

You should have pretty good idea about when it's done.  Eye balling the job, never hurts.

Dig In!

POTUS' s Vati- YES WE CAN: "If You Like These Seeds, You Can Keep 'Em. . . .Period.

My own private insights to Planned Parenthood's President of the United States and the only Man Who Publicly Condemns the Murder of the Innocent.

POTUS -"Now, if you plan these they will become fruits and vegetables.  Is that book you gave me in
Latin?"

Pope Frank - " Love the box."

American Nutbag Oliver Stone is Franz Liebkind!

"Ja. Not many people know this, but the fuhrer was descended from a long line of English queens. Franz Liebkind from The Producers."

 "Hitler is an easy scapegoat throughout history and it's been used cheaply. . . He's the product of a series of actions. It's cause and effect ... People in America don't know the connection between World War I and World War II," Oliver Stone following a Jumbo-sized tube of Testor's Glue

Oliver Stone is an American artist, director of films and Vietnam veteran given to hob-knobbng with tin-horn despots and psychotics.



 Franz Liebkind is a fictional German artist, playwright and Waffen SS veteran, given to waving a Luger when his feelings are trampled upon.

One wrote a play called Springtime for Hitler.

The other plans to reconcile Adolph Hitler's Mein Kampf to Man.

Epic work that.

From Haaretz:

Jewish control of the media is preventing an open discussion of the Holocaust, prominent Hollywood director Oliver Stone told the Sunday Times, adding that the U.S. Jewish lobby was controlling Washington's foreign policy for years.
In the Sunday interview, Stone reportedly said U.S. public opinion was focused on the Holocaust as a result of the "Jewish domination of the media," adding that an upcoming film of him aims to put Adolf Hitler and Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin "in context."
"There's a major lobby in the United States," Stone said, adding that "they are hard workers. They stay on top of every comment, the most powerful lobby in Washington."
The famed Hollywood director of such films as "Platoon" and "JFK," also said that while "Hitler was a Frankenstein," there was also a "Dr Frankenstein."
"German industrialists, the Americans and the British. He had a lot of support," Stone told the Sunday Times, adding that "Hitler did far more damage to the Russians than the Jewish people, 25 or 30 [million killed]."
Referring to the alleged influence of the powerful Jewish lobby on U.S. foreign policy, Stone said that Israel had distorted "United States foreign policy for years," adding he felt U.S. policy toward Iran was "horrible."

Oliver Stone is not nuts.  He is a sap, like hundreds of American artists and academics, who bought into Howard Zinn's historical vision of the American Racial Side Show/Butcher Shop/ Thimble Rigged Game.

Howard Zinn wrote his A People's History of United States a panolpy horrors and vices committed by Americans, considered to be exceptional.

Like every Progressive, Oliver Stone is not an original thinker. That is why the unexamined life is a walk on the red carpet.

Ollie goes on, "We're going to educate our minds and liberalize them and broaden them. We want to move beyond opinions ... Go into the funding of the Nazi party. How many American corporations were involved, from GM through IBM."

Or Sony, or Disney, or Dreamwerks . . .

Senators Marque Kirque and Dick Durbin - Dweedle Dee and Lah-Dee-Dah

“I’m going to be protecting my relationship with Dick ." U.S. Senator Marque Kirque

Marque Kirque, the Junior U.S. Senator from Illinois had a stroke and U.S. Dick Durbin, the Senior Senator from Illinois is one.

They are an Illinois stamped brand of Progressive Senator reminiscent of that statesman and wit United States Senator Roland Burris.

Marque Kirque said in an interview yesterday that he's " “going to be protecting my (his)relationship with Dick " and that is more than understandable.  They are identical.
Dick Durbin's GOP opponent and fellow Brand-man Jim Oberweiss is identical to them as a dim-witted, compromised, self-indulgent low-lip biting pest.

It would be encumbant upon Illinois voters to vote against Durbin, a dim-witted, compromised, self-indulgent, lower-lip biting pest, who has lied about words the President had for Speaker Boehner, bullied the bullies of the IRS examine more than few smidgens of dirt on religious and conservative 501(c)3 supplicants, cheerleadered America into insolvency for George Soros and sullied the valor of U.S. servicemen and women.

I mean, Jim Oberweiss too is a dim-witted, compromised, self-indulgent low-lip biting pest.

But, he is not Dick Durbin.  Food for thought. Discuss until November.  Vote for the name that is not Dick Durbin.   Marque Kirque? 
His relationship with Dick is protected.

"Planned Parenthood is Going Green! Get Baby Presto Logs!" A Message from Cecile Richards and the Dowagers of Death

"Hi, Y'all!  I'm Cecile Richards, President of Planned Parenthood U. S.A.!

This little critter, up there,  is breathing our air and will cause landfills to explode with the selfish little carbon footprint's dirty Pampers.  Mother Earth wants us all to keep our planet Green and Mother Earth Demands sacrifice.

The UK has taken the bold step and leaped onto the right side of history once again! Great Britain is burning dead babies, cutting heating bills and honoring the vaginas of women everywhere! Ain't that Great?

Call your Representatives and Senators and let them know that Planned Parenthood's President - Barack H. Obama - has a phone and pen ready to put the torch to millions of these little Presto-logs!

Well, genuine Presto Logs are made from our precious trees, People! Sorry, I just had to raise my voice the way my Mama taught me.. . .some things are just wrong? Don't Ya Think?

Give to Planned Parenthood!  Help us Free Kermit Gosnell!  Keep Mother Earth Happy . . .she told this Texas Gal . . 'I Am Pissed!  Light Up Some Little Ones! They are all natural, organic and will save a tree!'"

Gov. Pat "Everyday People" Quinn - The Champion of Liberal Apartheid and My Trip to Women's Roller Derby

"The vast expanse of economic decline in the midst of unprecedented, but very narrow urban luxury has been characterized as “liberal apartheid. ” The well-heeled, largely white and Asian coastal denizens live in an economically inaccessible bubble insulated from the largely poor, working-class, heavily Latino communities in the eastern interior of the state. "- Joel Kotkin

My old Pappy used to say, " When some goof says he's a Reformer, put your hands on your wallet."   Dad knew what he was talking about in most cases with the only possible exception of the value and quality of Carnation Instant Powdered Milk.  That stuff would gag a maggot.

He walked picket lines up to and including the Chicago Printers strike and a few hotels hiring scabs and strike breakers. He had no use for the folding chair labor commandoes who went to strike site armed with only collers full snacks and beers, who sit on their asses and shout out at passersby threats and maledictions.

"If you are on a picket, get off your asses and walkI"  He never accepted the notion of an evolved working man.  Times change to be sure, but virtue should not.

We have evolved.  Me, not so much.  I admire the virtues that created the dying American Standard of Living.  I still try as best I can manage to give my employer a 'straight eight, or better,'  Corner cutting reforms to the work ethic are just excuses for laziness, or beating The Man . . .whoever she is.

Politicians define everything from virtues to doctrine.  Class envy is all the rage.  The defenders of the working man are not working persons themselves, but job hopping grifters with more political clout than any Machine Boss could envy. The idiotic and oily Shakman Drecreesdestroyed jobs in Cook County, because it took hiring preferences out of the hands of department heads and into the hands of Progressive commissars armed to the teeth with policy.

The result is the vanished craftsmanship of competent workers in the public sector work force in favor of massive placement of the unskilled, the unqualified and unconcerned in key positions over the skilled, the qualified and concerned.  That does not do much for worker morale.

When was the last time, you have heard about life-long railroad man, engineer, electrician or structual engineer heading up the CTA, or the RTA? (cricket chirps)

Instead, the great cops, the great teachers, the great mechanics put in their time and the papers for retirement ASAP.  They sell their bungalows in Edison Park, or Marquette Park, or Washington Park and beat it out of the State with the shreds left of their looted pensions.

SEIU steps in where the motivated and the qualified once roamed to fill the ranks of the old political get-out the vote armies.  Low-wages for life, with time out at election time for a boost to the minimum wage scam or a millionaire tax.

Fronting this 'right side of history, are politically persistent pests like Pat Quinn who has managed to evolve from the Sunday Gadfly Harangue and Harrumph with Pat to signing legislation redefining what marriage has meant for millenia on Lincoln's desk at Uof I Pavilion.  Everday People.

My Dad was everyday people, he was a great stationary engineer who showed to work up at Illinois Med Center during Great Blizzard of '67 and all through the West Side Riots of '68.  He did not need to be the boss, because he already knew what the boss needed to know about the physical plant operations.  So did his six brothers.

I went to the U of I Pavilion on Saturday and took in the Windy City Rollers - Chicago's great women's roller derby athletes.  What put that bug in my labyrinthine bonnet, was meeting the two of the WC Rollers at the downtown St. Patrick's Day Parade on March 15th.  They chatted with our Leo students, marching in the Big Shoulders Fund contingent.  They were smart, funny, lovely and athletic.  I recalled watching Women's Roller Derby on black and white TVs with coat hanger antennae broadcast from the same oddball UHF stations that feature Ben's Auto Sales Wrestling.  The gigantic Joan Weston of New England Bombers was the ferocious foe and fiend who would toss the tiny Filipina with raven tresses knotted in a ponytail deep into the cheap seats.  My brows can go as low as any man's.

Everyday people enjoy roller derby, as they do minor league baseball, because they can afford to take the kids.  Everyday people can not afford the Bulls, the White Sox, The Bears, or The Cubs, unless they take out a loan from Red China and go into debt like the Obama White House.

I went to the U of I Pavilion on Saturday March 22 and watched the skating Amazons get the two thousand or so fans up out of their chairs through every Jam.  Alisin Chains, Chokehold Chanel, Beth Amphetamine,  Sargentina and the tall goddess # 81 Ruth Anasia streaked, bumped and blocked up a storm.

I noticed that the crowd was demographically diverse (Breeders and non-Euclidian, Asians, Latinos, Crackers and African Americans), but obviously totally 99%ers.  No camel hair top coats, no furs, no Hickey-Freeman brogues, or Jimmy Chew go-to-Hell stiletto heels to be seen any where within my 20/20 field of vision.  I had on my neatly pressed Dad 'n Lads strides, my Marshall's oxford cloth buttoned down shirt and sweater from the sale hopper at Sears and shod in my Thom McCann old guy shoes.

No Pat Quinn anywhere!  Everyday people, every where to be seen and huckstered with Class envy encomiums and liberal apartheid sloganeering. " Rauner has nine mansions!  He Has Nine Mansions!" All Pat Quinn owns is the condition of the State of Illinois and a disgraceful place in history - Pat Quinn  knows not what do, but he will do it anyway.

Liberal apartheid is the result of good people having anything to do with a Progressive.  The Middle Class is screwed and will disappear altogether thanks to the Pat Quinn's of American.

Pat Quinn really believes in Progressive Doctrine.  He can not help it.  He serves the rich and anonymous Progressive overlords like Dr. Quentin Young, Abner Mikva and their money changers.