In case you haven’t heard, dear readers, the crookedly gangsta guh’v’nuh of my state with the perfectly awful forehead hair will resign… well, sorta… I mean, he will resign only if it’s obvious he is unable to govern the state. And despite the current melee of federal charges and bipartisan disgust for all things Blagojevich, good old Rod thinks he can still do a darn good job of governing for the people of Illinois — the people he’s been dying to to talk to. According to Blago himself, he’s “a fighter“, which is more than we can say about his precious Cubs, who are quite comfortable getting swept and humiliated in the NLDS two years in a row now. But not Blago. Nah, he ain’t going down without a fight, gobdangit!
Sam “Don’t-Call-Me-Boston-Lager” Adams, one of criminal defense guru Ed Genson’s Chi-town cronies, enlightened us all by saying that said resignation wasn’t necessary now as we approach the Christmas season. Beside erroneously assuming all Illinoisans are of the Christian faith, Mr. Adams went on an unnecessary tirade punctuated by a guarantee that if it was obvious Blago couldn’t govern “when it’s time for the Easter bunny” that we could all look for a resignation then.
Gee, that seems fair.
Hijack the highest political post in Illinois for three (or four? who knows?) months until it’s absolutely certain that he is the jerkwad we all know he is?
Damn. Sure feels good to be Joe Taxpayer. Who’s with me?
The only reason I’m not punching someone in the face right now is because deep down, this Blago drama is better than anything on television right now — and until the baseball season starts, I could use that bit of drama.
Just think of all the excitement that will have gone down “when it’s time for the Easter bunny”:
Mark Teixeira will be rich.
The St. Louis Cardinals will be destined for another year of mediocrity.
Barack Obama will be the president.
Manny Ramirez will be rich… and weird.
The San Diego Padres will be awful.
A republican sex scandal most certainly will have stolen the Blago thunder.
Kyle Farnsworth will still be crying.
The ten inches of snow in my front yard will almost be gone.
Dumb Cub fans will be repeating their perennial mantra “this is our year” despite the fact that it — like every other year — clearly is not.
Sam “Don’t-Call-Me-Pumpkin-Ale-Either” Adams will have swallowed his own tongue while watching his client — coiffed hair, lynch-mobbed and all — walk away in handcuffs.
I’m just sayin’…don’t hate me ‘cuz I’m right.
Jeffy “So-What-If-I-Sit-At-Home-Alone-On-A-Friday-Night-Drinking-Cherry-Wheat” Lung