There are thieves in this world. They steal the works of others and publish them without paying. In some cases, they do not even credit the creators.
There is a continuing discussion among creators of how to handle thieves. Some claim they should not be called criminals- thieves- it is unprofessional. They should be treated with dignity and respect. That will stop them from infringing and hopefully get them to pay for using copyrighted material.
Chicago poet Harriet Monroe wrote an ode for the opening event of the 1893 Chicago World Columbian Exposition. She fought the men who ran the exposition to recognize poetry as an art. She fought those same men because they did not want a woman poet creating the opening poem for such a prestigious city event. Harriet Monroe prevailed.
The ode was seventy-eight pages long, a combination of poetry and performance art. Ms. Monroe copyrighted the poem. A thieving reporter from the New York World, a Pulitzer paper, obtained a copy of the poem. He telegraphed it to the paper. It was claimed to be the longest telegraph sent from Chicago.
The New York World, run by a thief named Joseph Pulitzer, published the poem without permission from Harriet Monroe. I always wonder why the reporters and news entities are so proud to get an award named after a thieving miserable bastard who ran the equivalent of a tawdry tabloid. It tells you all you need to know about journalism and journalists
Harriet Monroe sued over the theft of her work. If there was one thing thieving Joseph Pulitzer hated the most, it was writers with lawyers. He threw the legal and political weight of the New York World and his media empire against Harriet Monroe.
Pulitzer believed he could not lose. Pulitzer was wrong. Harriet Monroe won her lawsuit after it went to the United States Supreme Court. The ruling set a precedent for copyright law infringement.
Harriet Monroe was awarded five thousand dollars by the courts. Pulitzer also had to pay her legal fees and court costs. Had Pulitzer or his paper asked permission to publish the poem, it would have only cost them two hundred dollars.
Harriet Monroe is a forgotten hero to creators. She stopped the newspaper thieves with her lawsuit. The ruling in her case protects creators to this day. Monroe is largely forgotten, while the scoundrel, Joseph Pulitzer, is lionized, go figure.
Harriet Monroe used the award and financial help from Chicago’s elite to establish Poetry Magazine, which led to founding the Poetry Foundation. This is what she is known for. The copyright case is treated as a mere footnote of her life.
Harriet Monroe matters. She took on one of the most powerful men in America. She prevailed. Harriet Monroe set the standard for all creators to stop the theft of their work and get paid.
Harriet Monroe is a true Chicago person. Tough, unbendable, and a fighter for what is right.
If the thieves steal your work, be like Harriet Monroe. Go after them tooth and nail. Be a bully and shamer. Creators confuse professional and professionalism. Professionalism is the rules of conduct, ethics, and practices. Professionals get paid.
“When you cook, there is a great deal of love. You cannot cook indifferently. You have to give a lot of yourself. Cooking is the purest act of love, whether it’s for your kid or your grandmother or your lover or your wife. It’s always to give.” (Jacques Pepin/Artnet)
I learned how to cook at an early age by watching my parents. They were passionate about food. They were foodies before the term was coined.
Cookery and food eventually turned into a passion. I took some classes at a culinary school to up my game. I have enough to equip a small restaurant between my parents’ equipment and the stuff I bought over the years. I have more knives than any one person should own. I have over two hundred cookbooks and books about food. For a time, I wrote a food blog with recipes or writing about food issues.
During the late 1970s, firehouses were burglarized when the firefighters went on their runs. A police officer would be assigned to sit in the unattended house until the firefighters returned. I had to do that one evening.
I got to the house as the cook had just finished laying out his dinner prep. He was not happy he would have to leave, and dinner would be late. He was making pasta with meat sauce. I told him not to worry. I would cook the sauce. All he had to do was cook the pasta when they got back. He was leery but agreed. He ran out and left me in the kitchen.
I put everything together, diced, sautéed onions, peppers, and garlic. I browned the meat, seasoned it all, added the tomato products to the pot, put it on simmer. I made the salad and put the dressing in a container. I cleaned up the kitchen and sat down to watch television.
The firefighters came back about two hours later. The cook immediately went into the kitchen and tasted. He had a smile on his face. I took off. About a half-hour later, I was called back to the firehouse. The fire lieutenant wanted to know if I could switch jobs since I could cook. This brought some laughter at the cook’s expense. It was the first time I cooked for people other than my family. Firefighters take their cooking seriously. Some of the best meals I ate were in firehouses.
When I took care of my mother, I cooked for her and her care workers every day. She enjoyed the meals, and that made me happy. She refused to part with some recipes. Every answer was that it was too much work or too difficult. I asked her why she always said that when I finally pried a recipe from her. She smiled and said if people knew how easy it is to make things, they would not ask you to do it. I have three boxes of her recipes, some written and others clipped from newspapers and magazines.
I volunteered to help cook a Christmas dinner for residents at a Salvation Army center for the past few years. Chefs Alan Lake and Gary Wiviott lead a group of chefs and, volunteers spending the day prepping and cooking a prime rib dinner with all the fixings. They have been doing this for several years. Other volunteers set up tables and chairs, decorate, and turn the gym into a dining hall.
The dinner is table service. Volunteers go to various stations. The plates are filled with salad, prime rib and sides, then delivered to the tables. The first year I volunteered, I walked through the gym while serving the meal. One gentleman in his 30s just sat and stared at his plate. I asked him if anything was wrong. He told me that this was the first time anyone had served him a meal. Due to the COVID pandemic, I did not volunteer for the past two holidays.
I love cooking for others more than myself. Since COVID, I rarely cook for myself. The grocery stores are packed with stupid humans who forget there is a pandemic and get too close to others or refuse to adhere to other precautions.. Evidently, saying, “Stay the fuck away from me,” is considered hostile violence to the overindulged, privileged shoppers. One good thing, I ate in many places and sampled a lot of good food.
Chicago is the best food town in the country. We do not needPR firms to hype our restaurants. It is no hard to find the good stuff, from fine dining to a modest ethnic food cart. You can source ingredients to cook any ethnic cuisine. We have it all and it is the best.
The City of Chicago and the State of Illinois claim they are not responsible for regulating COVID testing sites. The sites are considered a business, not a health facility. Apparently, just about anyone can open and operate a pop-up testing site. Unlike other businesses the city and state regulate and sometimes overregulate, it appears pop-up testing sites are immune. They are not only immune, but they also have herd immunity, as they are popping up all over the city.
“I honestly felt like if I didn’t have COVID after going, I would have it upon leaving, which [in my opinion] is a major reason to avoid testing in the future,” he said.” (Block Club}
Staff violating simple protective measures
Accepting cash payment for free tests
Charging for free tests
Asking for Social Security numbers (Forbidden)
Not returning test results
Returning test results when none were submitted
Inaccurate test results
Improper testing procedures
This is ridiculous. The government is not supposed to look ridiculous. This is Chicago, Cook County, and Illinois, where the governments are run and administered by incompetents.
The article does not state if these “businesses” are licensed or supposed to be licensed. If so, their licenses must be on public display. If they are not licensed, they can be shut down immediately.
It would take nothing for the city or state to put these rogue pop-up testing sites out of business by labeling them health facilities or forcing them into compliance. They could send in health and building inspectors to cite them and shut them down. Are the storefronts even zoned to provide health testing services? Simple solutions to a simple problem. Something our simpleton leaders are incapable of figuring out. Instead, they claim they are not responsible and abdicate responsibility. The city of Chicago does not care about safety. Just look at their epic failure in handling the continuing violent crime wave throughout the city.
In the meantime, people wait in long lines at these pseudo-testing sites only to be scammed and conned by fraudsters. The city and state claim they can do nothing. Same old same old Chicago, Cook County, and Illinois. Nothing changes except the names. Buffoonery and incompetence are the norms. Simple solutions to simple problems evade our supposed leaders.
The days of the week are still Today, Yesterday, Tomorrow, The Other Day, What Day is It. The days of our lives heading into another year of COVID.
Experts and elected officials keep talking about returning to normal when and if the COVID pandemic is over. What was or is normal? COVID struck in 2020. We hoped 2021 would be better. There was light at the end of the tunnel. Turns out the light was the COVID train barreling toward us loaded with variants as 2022 approached. We still wear masks, carry vaccine proof, seek out tests, and listen to conflicting advice on how to safely go about our lives
For those of us who do not work, days are routine. Every day I do crossword puzzles. I have gone through dozens of pens. I go for long walks, weather permitting. I only visit with people in my small bubble. When I go out, it is only to places that practice safety protocols. At night, I seek out mindless entertainment. Day after day, wash, rinse, repeat.
Self-survival is the first and highest law of nature. I am a survivor.
I know people or their family members who caught COVID. Some suffered. Some died. Every day I read about the suffering and death from this disease. I read about the long haulers who are suffering from the mild to severe after-effects of COVID. I know people with compromised health issues, making them more susceptible to catching COVID. Their precautions border on paranoia, and I do not blame them.
Our social circles shrunk to pods of people we feel safe with. It is like living in a bubble. It is hard to believe almost two years sped by. I remember the last time I celebrated with friends, St. Patrick’s Day, 2020. The next day, the lockdowns and mandates started. I masked up, socially distanced, and excoriated anyone who got too close to me. I was loud and vulgar. I do not care about anyone’s oh so tender sensitive feelings. I do not care about propriety or etiquette. When it comes to self-survival, I believe in Damon Runyon’s philosophy. “After me, everyone else comes first.”
The spread of COVID is competing with the spread of violent crime in Chicago. For almost two years, City Hall promoted ways to keep us safe from COVID. They did and do little to keep us safe on the streets or in public spaces. If COVID does not get you, chances are good one of our pampered violent criminals will.
The figures, as of December 31, 2021:
4533 people were shot
791 souls were shot and killed
There were 841 homicides
There are daily armed robberies in many neighborhoods
There are daily carjackings all over the city
One way or other, chances are you will be shot, killed, traumatized, or infected. It looks like 2021 dealt 2022 a Dead Man’s Hand.
Mayor Lightfoot issues threats of punishing establishments that do not obey mandates. She is silent on the violent crime wave. State’s Attorney Kim Foxx pampers violent criminals instead of prosecuting them. They refuse to accept their “reform” policies are failing miserably. Only the coddled criminals are benefitting from “reforms.”
While scrolling through social media, I see a lot of anger over the new spread of COVID. People are fed up with living under mandates. Some feel they have been lied to by the medical experts, especially the worsening variants. I do not see anger over the violence pandemic in Chicago. I do not see people believing the Mayor, State’s Attorney, and the inept Chicago Police Superintendent are lying to them. I do not see editorials from our cowardly news media excoriating Lightfoot and Foxx for their epic failure to keep us safe.
When will it end? When will we get back to normal, whatever that was? When will Sunday, Monday, Tuesday… return? When will we feel safe on our streets? When will COVID and violent crime be curbed?
Like COVID, violence did not take a holiday this New Year, and like COVID, violence will continue to plague us.
It does not look like 2022 will be better than 2021. Yeah, Happy New Year.
Chicago alderpeople are not known for their intelligence or common sense. They tend to come up with the dumbest things. 43rd Ward alderwoman Michele Smith ends the year in the realm of you can’t make this s**t up.
“See something, blow something.” I thought of something naughty, but I am not going there.
Running towards armed robbers while blowing a whistle surely will terrify armed robbers and make them stop, right? People can be official whistleblowers. Maybe next, she can arm the good citizens of Lincoln Park with bubble guns, rubber band guns, or Super Soakers.
Suppose they do not have whistles or any of the above weapons. In that case, they could run into danger, yelling, “CITIZENS ARREST, CITIZENS ARREST.” That would surely stop the crime in progress, forcing the robbers to flee.
Folks, you elected circus clowns to govern Chicago.
Michelle Smith also misrepresented the numbers of police officers deployed to the 018 District. Either the Police Department lied to her, or she lied to give her constituents a false sense of safety. Either way, public safety in Chicago is built on a house of lies.
COVID cases and violent crime keep on rising side by side. We live in a dangerous city. If COVID does not get you, our violent criminals will. It looks like 2022 will be just as horrible as 2021. Alderwoman Smith thinks violent crime is a joke. The joke is on her, as she is, for now, the official laughingstock of Chicago. It is a sure bet one of our elected officials will steal her title soon.
All aldermanic silliness aside, when are these clowns going to unite and tell the mayor enough is enough? When will they care about us instead of offering dangerous, ridiculous suggestions? When are they going to demand accountability from the mayor? When are they going to hold Kim Foxx’s and Machine Boss Toni Preckwinkle’s feet to the fire? Why are they being cowards? Are they afraid to go up against those two darlings of Chicago’s Barney news media? “We love Kim. We love Toni. We know we’re full of bulloney’ We’re best friends like friends should be”
Folks, we are being conned by the mayor, the aldermen, the State’s Attorney, and the barely visible Machine Boss. They are committing fraud at the highest level of political criminality. Our lives and well-being are of no concern to this quartet with blood on their hands.
When will the mayor fire the inept bush-league cowpoke she hired as Superintendent of Police, David “Tex” Brown? He overstayed his welcome and overplayed his incompetency. Most normal people change course when their plans or policies do not work. Chicago politicians double and triple down on failures touting them as successes. In the meantime, the body count and traumatization keep happening daily.
The 2023 election cycle starts after the New Year. It is time to remember and remind the deadly quartet their jobs are at stake. What do we have to lose by cleaning house? Our lives and safety are at stake. Remember, the first and highest law of nature is self-preservation.
Christmas is past. My greatest gift was spending time with my family. Hopefully, I will spend more time with friends before the holiday season is over.
With COVID making a new surge, life does not appear to be changing for the better. We may be going back to mandates. Life has been challenging for many without social contacts at work, school, family, and friends.
Violent and other crimes are spiraling out of control in the city I love. Like COVID, the situation is not improving. Like COVID, crime keeps us at home more or seeks hopefully safer places to recreate or shop. Too many of us live in fear of becoming collateral damage, innocent victims of violent crime.
Many holiday celebrations were curtailed or canceled due to the COVID resurgence and the Omicron variant. We still live in our safety pods of people we know and trust to stay safe. I know friends or their family members who recently tested positive. I wish them well.
2021 was a horribilis annus. Though it does not seem so, we hope 2022 will be a better year.
People start making New Year’s resolutions most will not keep about this time. I rarely make resolutions. This year will be an exception. My resolutions will be based on things I enjoy or want to try.
We are Chicago. We are a forward-looking people. We can change the dynamic in this city. Most of us can’t change the world, but we can change the small part of it we inhabit. Since COVID struck, our worlds grew smaller. It is easier to change a small world. I will look around my community and see what I can do to leave some positive effect or outcome, even in a small way.
If time and money allow, I want to expand my creativity into other art genres. I believe it is essential to create, to make, things. That I will do, even if it is for my personal enjoyment.
I am a fierce critic of Chicago and Cook County governance, especially their epic public safety failures. In the New Year, I will continue to criticize. I will also showcase the things, past and present, that make Chicago the best city in America, including some people who made this city so special.
Since I love to cook and eat, I will add more food writing, especially about the restaurants and ethnic grocers in the neighborhoods. Maybe I will toss in some recipes or how-to pieces.
I want to try new things this upcoming year. I may try podcasting or vlogging if I can get the few pieces of necessary equipment I need. I want to explore Chicago neighborhoods again with a fresh eye to record the changes since my last visits.
Please do not drink and drive if you are going out for New Year’s Eve, AKA Amateur’s Night. I witnessed the devastation driving under the influence caused, both personally and professionally. The Great Comedian created cabs and ride-sharing to keep people safe from drunks and drunks safe from themselves. Plan ahead. Take a taxi or some other transportation. Maybe get a room close to wherever you are celebrating. Do not become or cause a catastrophe or fatality.
Happy New Year. Live, love, laugh, eat the sandwich.
I am sitting in my neighborhood coffee shop. Jazzy Christmas music is playing. Christmas is two days away. My shopping is done. All that is left is picking up the orders from the grocer.
Many holiday celebrations will be canceled with COVID cases on the rise and the Omicron variant. I know one friend whose spouse tested positive. He canceled the large family celebration at his home. Another person I know was exposed to COVID at work. She will not be with her family. Our celebration will be three of us. There will be feasting on Christmas Eve (Seafood) and Day.
I always looked forward to Christmas. I only experienced one bad holiday, a New Year’s Eve. The rest were good to great. I loved the feasting with family members. I get nostalgic thinking about past Christmases. My family, whether they realized it or not, created fond memories.
I worked many Christmases, sometimes both the eve and day. It never bothered me, as I found ways to celebrate around the work schedule. When my daughter was young, I worked midnights. I would sneak in the house around 4 am, put the gifts under the tree, and go back to finish my shift. I would sneak back in at 6 am, and sleep on the couch until she and her mother woke up. My daughter still talks about finding me on the couch in my uniform.
Christmas is supposed to be a time of hope and joy. With all that is going on in our city, country, and world, it can be easy to lose hope or find little joy. Christmas is its own special season. As Father John Cusick related on Rick Kogan’s radio show, Christmas is the everything season. It has its own colors, music, rituals, and traditions. It is supposed to be a time of good cheer, giving, and hope.
Christmas leads to the New Year’s celebrations. We hope the next year will be better.
For those of you old enough to remember, this is a take on a poem Win Stracke recorded, whose title escapes me.
Santa was gearing up for his midnight run through Chicago on Christmas Eve. As the elves loaded the last packages and retired to raid the liquor cabinet, Santa kissed Mrs. Claus, gave her a hearty swat on the ass, and prepared to depart.
Out of the swirling snow, a long-haired, bearded, robed figure appeared. There was a golden aura surrounding him. It was Jesus Christ.
Jesus asked Santa if he could accompany him on his trip to Chicago. The big man in red knew that when the Son of God asks for something, the request should be considered a Commandment, willfully and cheerfully obeyed.
Chicago style, St. Nick, put his hand’s palms up, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Yeah. Sure.”
The sleigh’s flight path took it into Chicago over the lake from the Northwest. The first stop was Uptown. It was not a home but a homeless shelter. Jesus noted the men, women, and children, especially the children. There would be no sugar plums dancing in their heads this eve. By morning they would be on the cold streets again. Santa left packages with toys, gloves, scarves, toiletries, and other items.
The next stop was the Gold Coast. Lights twinkled along Michigan Avenue. The streets were adorned with decorations. Santa and Jesus went from home to home, high rises, townhomes, and single-family homes to drop off gifts. Christ noted the finery of the houses, the best that money can buy. He also noted excess of every kind, the gluttony of riches.
They traveled into the city, circling the Loop. The streets and stores were decorated to celebrate “The Holiday.” Jesus took note of that too. Nowhere was Christmas to be found. Not even a sign proclaiming “Peace on Earth. Goodwill towards Men”. Nothing except something called “Holiday.”
Then, Santa did something unusual. He went underground. Not literally under the earth, but through the underground Wacker and Michigan Avenues. He knew every nook and cranny where homeless street denizens of the underground slept. He left packages for them. These were people who gave up all hope except the will to live, at least another day.
Jesus took in the sight of people sleeping in cardboard boxes, wrapped in layers of clothing, with all their possessions stacked on the ground or loaded into shopping carts. He noticed the pungent odor of the unwashed. Santa saw a look of profound sadness on Christ’s face.
The sleigh alit atop City Hall. Jesus noticed a peculiar smell, the perfume of graft and corruption, the smell of money. Santa delivered the fat envelopes stuffed with cash to each alderman’s desk. He knew about pay-to-play, the Chicago Way.
Santa wanted no trouble from city officials next year.
The next stop was Stroger Hospital, where the poor seek treatment for their ills, and the seriously injured or wounded are brought. The waiting area for the emergency room was packed to overflowing. In various states of illness and injury, men, women, and especially children are all waiting patiently and not so patiently to be treated.
Sirens blared as ambulances delivered more charges. Triage personnel tried to sort out the most serious—the decision of who would get treated and who would wait all night and into the next day.
In the Trauma Unit, heroic doctors and nurses, battled to stabilize, patch up, or valiantly save the lives of people who were shot, stabbed, beaten, or victims of other violence and mayhem. Their movements were energetic, but their eyes relayed weariness. Santa left the staff presents in their break room.
The night was wearing on. There was still much work to do.
They flew through the westside, the Lawndale neighborhood, where hope goes to die, and dreams are stolen. They entered the homes of the poor. Santa left parcels at each one, taking special care to arrange the children’s just right. Jesus noted the lack these people suffered. He saw children sleeping, sometimes two, three, or more, in a single bed. Stoves and ovens provided extra heat.
There was racket coming through the walls of various buildings and homes, yelling and screaming. The noise of domestic disturbances and arguments by people whose desperation makes them so angry, they lash out at the ones they love.
While flying to another block, Jesus noticed blue lights swirling through the snow. Santa flew the sled lower. A police car was parked in an alley, the doors open, and blue Mars lights twirling. Two burly cops were standing over the latest victim of mayhem in Chicago. A teenager whose crimson blood was staining the pure white snow. His dead eyes were staring at the sky. The screams of an ambulance pierced the night air.
Off they flew until Jesus saw red blinking lights and a flurry of activity. There was a huge orange glow lighting up the night sky. The smell of thick black smoke was strong. There were cold, huddled masses on the street watching firefighters try to put out a blaze and rescue the inhabitants of a large apartment building. Icicles hung from several firefighters’ helmets.
They entered the parts of the city where the working classes live. As they went house to house, Jesus noted piles of stuff filling every nook and cranny of the homes. Every child and adult toy or gadget imaginable. Santa lamented that easy credit and rampant consumerism were making his job harder and harder.
Then it was off to the south side. As the sled approached the Englewood neighborhood, Santa started taking evasive action. Jesus asked why. Santa replied that for the Son of God, he sure did not know much. Santa patiently explained he was dodging bullets. Jesus just shook his head.
When they hit the Southside neighborhood known as the “Hundreds,” Santa put the sleigh down. He guided it through the streets, as it was worse than Englewood to fly through. Then, out of nowhere, an armed group surrounded the sleigh. They interrogated the fat man, ensuring he was not from an outside gang or drug operation poaching on their turf. Once assured he was harmless, they grabbed several packages and let him go on his merry way.
The sleigh detoured to the Southwest and Northwest sides, the outer neighborhoods. As Santa made his deliveries, Jesus noticed some family members missing, the police, firefighters, and other emergency responders working on this night.
There was something else He noticed it in some homes. It did not escape His attention during all the other stops. Pictures. Pictures of men and women in dun-colored uniforms, some looked like they were armed to the teeth. Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen, from across the social, racial, and economic demographic spectrum deployed far from home.
After they landed back at the North Pole, Jesus noticed a single package left in the corner of the sleigh. He pointed it out to the fat man. Santa sighed, grabbed the package, and gave it to Him.
“This one is for you.”
Jesus opened the package. Inside was a can of WD-40, a roll of duct tape, a baseball bat, and a card with various vulgar, obscene words and phrases on it. He shot Santa a questioning look.
Santa kindly said, “This is my gift to you. Those are the four items Chicagoans use to fix everything. You have a lot of work to do.”
Jesus walked off, shaking His head, and disappearing into the swirl of Arctic snow.
On the first day of Christmas Chicago gave to me, a murder in an alley.
On the second day of Christmas Chicago gave to me, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the third day of Christmas Chicago gave to me, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings, and a murder in an alley.
On the fourth day of Christmas Chicago gave to me, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the fifth day of Christmas Chicago gave to me, fiiiive robbrrrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the sixth day of Christmas Chicago gave to me six smash and grabs, fiiiive robberrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the seventh day of Christmas Chicago gave to me seven flash mobs robbing, six smash and grabs,, fiiiive robberrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the eighth day of Christmas Chicago gave to me eight people shot, seven flash mobs robbing, six smash and grabs , fiiiive robberrrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the ninth day of Christmas Chicago gave to me nine beaten bus drivers, eight people shot, seven flash mobs robbing, six smash and grabs , fiiiive robberrrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the tenth day of Christmas Chicago gave to me ten shooters fleeing, nine beaten bus drivers, eight people shot, seven flash mobs robbing, six smash and grabs , fiiiive robberrrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the eleventh day of Christmas Chicago gave to me eleven felons not charged, ten shooters fleeing, nine beaten bus drivers, eight people shot, seven flash mobs robbing, six smash and grabs , fiiiive robberrrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murder in an alley.
On the twelfth day of Christmas Lightfoot gave to me Chicago, living in fear, eleven felons not charged, ten shooters fleeing, nine beaten bus drivers, eight people shot, seven flash mobs robbing, six smash and grabs, fiiiive robberrrries, four murdered teens, three rolling shootouts, two carjackings and a murrrrder in an allley.