Chicago is a city of complainers, enforcers, contradictions, and wusses. Some of our illustrious aldermen do not like the litter of dibs preserving parking spaces people risked a death-dealing heart-a-stroke to dig out. They are sending out Streets and San to clear the “rubble.”
However, there is other rubble, litter, blight, and eyesores they refuse to remove. I am talking about those ugly white bicycles littering our neighborhoods. They are monuments to dead cyclists. They are up years after many were killed in traffic accidents. They are ugly monuments to nothing. Why not treat the white bikes as the same litter and blight as dibs? Either dibs stay or the bikes go too.
Today is Super Bowl Sunday when two groups of over-privileged wusses play a genteel championship football game- even though the ball is thrown and carried with hands and arms.
Wusses? Yeah, all football players are wusses, especially Super Bowl contenders. I come from an age when football players were rough and tumble tough. The defense mantra was “kill the quarterback.” The offensive and defensive linemen were awesome brutes. The teams played in the rain, the mud, the snow, and even sub-zero temperatures. They played through injuries.
Now, the sport is oh so genteel. It is being played by guys sipping tea from fine bone China who stick their pinkie fingers out discussing the fashion choices of the British royals. Quarterbacks are celebrities, not to be manhandled lest their pretty faces get bruised. They are nothing more than Ken dolls.
Super Bowls must be played in cities with warm climates, preferably in domed stadiums, so the players do not get their uniforms dirty or suffer from the elements. I long for the days of real football with guys named Butkus, Ditka, Karras, Nagurski, just to name a few. I loved watching the 1967 NFL Championship, called the Ice Bowl, played in Green Bay between the Packers and the Cowboys. The temperature was between 13-18 degrees below zero. The field was like a sheet of ice and rock hard.
So, I will not be watching the Ken dolls playing nice on the “gridiron.” I would rather watch the second coat of paint dry or spiders killing flies than watch a bunch of wusses pretending to be tough guy athletes. Hell, a senior citizen like me could play the game without fear of injury.
This brings us to Mayor Lightfoot versus the McCaskey Bears. The Bears lost the title of Monsters of the Midway shortly after winning the 1985 Super Bowl. They are the Louses of the Lakefront. The McCaskey’s who own, run, and rule the roost, are probably the most incompetent owners in the NFL. They are like noisy birds, cheap, cheap, cheap. They squeeze quarters so tight the eagle screams.
“We’re going to continue to do everything we can to keep the Bears in Chicago,” Lightfoot said on WSCR-AM 670. “We’re working on some plans to present to them that I think will make a very, very compelling financial case as to why it makes an abundance of sense for them to stay in Chicago.” (Chicago Tribune)
Good luck with that Lori.
The Bears want to relocate to Arlington Heights, a sleepy, leafy suburb. They tendered an offer to purchase the shuttered Arlington Park Racetrack property so the bears can play atop decades of horse manure, which is what the McCaskey’s are full of.
Mayor Lori Lightfoot does not care how many children are murdered in Chicago, how many people are carjacked, robbed, terrorized, or how thoroughly incompetent her police superintendent, Tex Brown, is.
Lightfoot finally found something to care deeply about. Do whatever it takes to keep the McCaskey Bears in Chicago. They are moving to that monument to horse manure in Arlington Heights. If she can’t keep the city safe, how is she going to keep the McCaskey’s here? It seems Lightfoot cannot do anything right.
As I wrote before, the Bears could have built a state-of-the-art domed stadium decades ago. There were plenty of huge tracts of vacant property, even along the riverfront. Most of those enormous tracts of land were gobbled up by developers to erect massive suburban-style insular apartment/condo communities. Oh, and they got generous TIF benefits for turning this city into a piss poor imitation of the burbs.
Hell, if the Bears had asked former Mayor Richard M. Daley, he would have bent over backward and tied himself in knots to accommodate the McCaskey’s with tiff money. There would be no scrootening or scrootenization. The McCaskey’s could have had whatever they wanted.
So, phuque the Bears, the McCaskey’s, and wussball. Let them go. Let the door slam them hard on the ass on their way out and knock them down the stairs. Let them build a lovely pink palace dollhouse for their overpaid untalented Ken dolls to play in. Adios, ciao, do widzenia, adieu, 再见, slán.
Mayor Lightfoot, forget the McCaskey Bears. Concentrate on your job. Our city is not safe, thanks to your frenemies, Chicago Machine Boss, Toni Preckwinkle, and her Minnie Me Minion, Kim Foxx. Your cowboy police superintendent is an abject failure. How many more people must be killed, wounded, or terrorized before you wake up and smell the horse manure?