Ain't No Devil Like the One I Got, But Nothing Akin to Cromwell or Dick Durbin

Dick Durbin at Illinois Planned Parenthood Award 2013

Cromwell at Drogheda 1681



"I am persuaded that this is a righteous judgment of God upon these barbarous wretches, who have imbued their hands in so much innocent blood and that it will tend to prevent the effusion [shedding] of blood for the future, which are satisfactory grounds for such actions, which otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret." Oliver Cromwell to Parliament on the Massacre f Drogheda*

"The most merciful thing that the large family does to one of its infant members is to kill it." Maragret Sanger

What bedevils you? I would assume that something, or someone causes all of us great confusion and concerns attendant.

Lord knows I have me some powerful demons. Sophisticates might say that I am complicated.  Most people would argue that I just behave like a jerk. I do at times.

I had a coach in grammar school who yell at me to 'quit contemplating my navel.' Prolonged navel gazing often leads one to require a proctologist to husband his wealth of skills in the removal of the noggin from the rump.  In that spirit, my Catholic upbringing demanded hours spent in activities where the gaze was required above and beyond the less wholesome body parts and to brighter horizons. With age came the luxury and the curse of too much time on my own hands, which worked overtime in the Devil's workshop. Stay busy in life, or become a United States Senator from Illinois.

There is a Devil and his name is Satan, but he works with a crowd of lesser demons dedicated to bringing me along with them - to jump in the fiery Lake of Gehenna, because they did too.

That seems to be a pretty simple explanation from an otherwise 'complicated' man.

I think that people are born good, but some of us work like the Devil to go against our natures, St. Gregory said of demons that they were named by their offices and not their natures.  Evangelical Christians view good and evil as the attitude one has toward complete fundamental acceptance of the Christian God and everything else is evil.

Mainline Protestants see good and evil as results, just like John Dewey, that either harm people or benefit them.

Catholics tend to be . . .complicated, when dealing with good and evil.  We sin in thought, word and deed. We sin, because we are children of Fall - the 'poor banished children of Eve'  and we call that Original Sin. It comes with our belly buttons.  We suffer for our sins and the sins of others, but know that we are redeemed by Christ's triumph over the cross.

Now comes the hard part.  We also "Choose."  We are Pro-Choice in matters of evil.  To me the gravest sin occurs when I choose which sin is convenient to me.  I pick and choose which decision to turn away from God.

God made everything good.  He made angels.  Those angels have free will.  Some of those angels decided to do what the hell they felt like doing.  The chief angel, according to Genesis, Wisdom and  John's Revelation, as well as Oliver Cromwell's Minister of Latin, old blind John Milton decided to be God.

Now, Cromwell was no Senator Dick Durbin, our own oleaginous cheerleader for abortion who helped ease the feet of women into the abortionist's stirrups and accounted for more dead children than ISIS -right here in America. Dick Durbin might not be Satan, but he sure gives that hoofed gent the freedom of the walkway.

Choosing to murder a child is evil. Choosing a Senator, or President, or Dog Catcher who backs abortion for any public office, sure seems evil to me. Then again, I am a complicated sinner.

As it is, the Devil we know, the one who tells us to choose convenience over life has some very powerful, sophisticated and wealthy friends.  They are not friendly to my Church. They have more concern for a stray dog, than a seven pound baby in a woman's Federally protected uterus,Image result for abortion murders in 2014
The whole Church and each one of her children are beset by dangers, the fire of persecution, the enervation of ease, the dangers of wealth and of poverty, heresies and errors of opposite characters, rationalism and superstition, fanaticism and indifference. Catholic Encyclopedia

Persecution - That is an easy one. Catholics are hated, especially by secularists
Enervation of Ease - The Life of an Oligarch
Dangers of Wealth & Poverty - Enough is never a feast
Heresies and Errors of Opposite Characters - See Dick Durbin
Rationalism and Superstition - 50/50 Senator
Fanaticism and Indifference - Quality of Life trumps Life

Sounds like the ltmus test to be the Senior Senator from Illinois.


*Drogheda was one of the first cities Cromwell faced. He offered fair terms and gave his men strict instructions against excessive violence. However, the situation fluctuated a good deal. As Drogheda's fortunes waned or waxed, the garrison alternately negotiated or stalled. Cromwell's troops broke through the wall before negotiations were complete (possibly with inside help) and rushed through the town, killing virtually everyone in the city. They set fire to St. Mary's church, burning alive those who had taken refuge in it and then butchered women hiding in the vaults below. Some accounts say they used Irish children as human shields and killed every priest, treating them like combatants, because they had encouraged the defenders. According to those tales, only thirty defenders survived and they were sold as slaves to Barbados. At least one of the English soldiers claimed that Cromwell himself ordered the slaughter.

Mythology and Meaning - Lady Gregory

Lady Gregory (nee  Isabella Augusta Persse) was an Anglo-Irish aristocrat who fell in love with Irish legends and Celtic mythology through her Irish Catholic nanny.  This was a kind of Celtic Uncle Tom's Cabin. Like Harriet Beecher Stowe, a New England Yankee steeped in firebrand abolitionism, Lady Gregory was well-meaning do-gooder with a splendid ear and wicked sense of humor.  Women on the outside of of historical issues who very much wanted to break some glass, Lady Gregory and Beecher Stowe are credited with two civil wars.

Lady Gregory sparked not only the Celtic Revival in literary art, but also inspired generations of Fenians.  Harriet Beecher Stowe, President Lincoln was reported to have said upon meeting her in 1862, "so you are the little woman who wrote the book that started this great war."

However, both women managed to create human archetypes.  Harriet Beecher Stowe's characters Uncle Tom, Little Eva and especially Simon Legree became part of the American vernacular.

I found this passage from Lady Gregory quite interesting -

And it is what the poets of Ireland used to be saying, that every brave man, good at fighting, and every man that could do great deeds and not be making much talk about them, was of the Sons of the Gael; and that every skilled man that had music and that did enchantments secretly, was of the Tuatha de Danaan. But they put a bad name on the Firbolgs and the men of Domnann and the Gaileoin, for lies and for big talk and injustice. But for all that there were good fighters among them, and Ferdiad, that made so good a stand against Cuchulain, in the war for the Bull of Cuailgne was one of them. And the Gaileoin fought well in the same war; but the men of Ireland had no great liking for them, and their Druids drove them out of the country afterwards. from Gods and Fighting Men, by Lady Gregory

Lady Gregory offers a psychological taxonomy:

Gaels - tough guys what don't talk about it.  Sportsmen, soldiers, cops, firemen, nurses, bartenders:  heroes and legends.
Tuatha de Danaan - poets, bards, scholars.  Teachers, writers and priests
Firbolgs - Politicians, grifters, opportunists.   Advocates, activists and anchor persons

I do not believe that this classification is limited to Celts.

Some folks sure do make themselves known, by how they behave.

Prate About An Elephant Nobody Has Seen: An Indian Tale About Politics?

How was your Election Night?  Mine was brief.

Once there was a village high in the mountains in which everyone was born blind. One day a traveler arrived from far away with many fine things to sell and many tales to tell. The villagers asked, "How did you travel so far and so high carrying so much?" The traveler said, "On my elephant." "What is an elephant?" the villagers asked, having never even heard of such an animal in their remote mountain village. "See for yourself," the traveler replied.
The elders of the village were a little afraid of the strange-smelling creature that took up so much space in the middle of the village square. They could hear it breathing and munching on hay, and feel its slow, swaying movements disturbing the air around them. First one elder reached out and felt its flapping ear. "An elephant is soft but rough and flexible, like a leather fan." Another grasped its back leg. "An elephant is a rough, hairy pillar." An old woman took hold of a tusk and gasped, "An elephant is a cool, smooth staff." A young girls seized the tail and declared, "An elephant is a fringed rope." A boy took hold of the trunk and announced, "An elephant is a water pipe." Soon others were stroking its sides which were furrowed like a dry plowed field, and others determined that its head was an overturned washing tub attached to the water pipe.
At first each villager argued with the others on the definition of the elephant as the traveler watched in silence. Two elders were about to come to blows about a fan that could not possibly be a pillar. Meanwhile the elephant patiently enjoyed the investigations as the cries of curiosity and angry debate mixed in the afternoon sun. Soon someone suggested that a list could be made of all the parts: the elephant had four pillars, one tub, two fans, a water pipe, and two staffs, and was covered in tough, hairy leather or dried mud. Four young mothers, sitting on a bench and comparing impressions, realized that the elephant was in fact an enormous , gentle ox with a stretched nose. The traveler agreed, adding only that it was also a powerful draft horse and that if they bought some of his wares for a good price he would be sure to come that way again in the new year.         Indian Tale

Congratulations to the Pipe Trades! Rahm Owes Skilled Labor Big Time.

The first sign that Rahm Emanuel might hold Chicago for another four years went up on the Dan Ryan Expressway on east side near 79th Street.  Sometime in October, the huge sign praising Rahm for that he is went up at expense of the United Piipe Trades of Chicago;shortly, thereafter, the skilled trades unions sided with the plumbers and pipe fitters in a marshaling of labor forces that eclipsed the public salaried unions - The Chicago Teachers Union and SEIU.

Anyone of the two people in my legion of readers knows that I am a constant critic public sector unions and fierce defender of the skilled trades, but I found myself on the side of SEIU and CTU in this mayoral election - general and runoff.

It is a headscratcher. I am no fan of Rahm Emanuel - not now;not no how.  He is a what is wrong with the Democratic Party which since the 1972 Democratic Convention became a torts platform and grievance utility.

I believe in neighbors. Jesus "Chuy" Garcia is a neighbor.   Rahm Emanuel is Richard M. Daley with better syntax, better tailor and better barber.

Rahm Emanuel and all of his polls won.

The congratulations go, not to the $ 1,200 suits and $400 haircuts, but to the skilled trades locals of Chicago.  They put Rahm over.  Now, swell haircuts should be consigned to the back of the elevator going up to the 5th Floor of City Hall . . .for a couple of weeks anyway.

Ogden and Fry, Chicago Newspapers and Rahm Aside: Your Vote Counts

CHICAGO — New poll data from Ogden and Fry indicates the gap between Mayor Rahm Emanuel and challenger Jesus "Chuy" Garcia is widening, with Emanuel taking the lead.
The one-question survey was conducted between April 3 and 4 and received more than 1,700 responses. On April 4, respondents were asked to choose one of the two candidates, with the option to choose "undecided." In that vote, Emanuel's 499 votes (51.3 percent) topped Garcia's 321 (33 percent), and 152 voters (15.6 percent) were left undecided.

According to the latest poll conducted by the wizards of Ogden & Fry, - RAHM CAN"T LOSE TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU HEAR ME, HELOTS?????????  RAHM CAN'T LOSE!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS SO OVER!

This little political scientific certainty, aside,  Your Vote Counts. Polls are conducted, not to measure accurately, but to conclude. They are straight from the heart of John Dewey who told simple Americans that inquiry is truth and that outcomes are all that matters.

Voting is the only poll that matters.

Voting is the only means a citizen can do to give voice to his/her condition.

If you believe that Rahm Emanuel is the key to a fair shake, vote for Rahm

If you believe that Jesus "Chuy" Garcia can send the oligarchs of Chicago, Cook County and Illinois running for a new means of living off of the State, vote Chuy.

You will not get saved, but we might get redeemed.

I voted for Chuy.

Rahm Made Me Easter Breakfast

I wake early. Generally, I wake between 3:30 and 4:10 AM.  Easter Sunday is no exception.  I hit the floor and pray on my knees ( Memorare) hit the shower, shave and brush my buckers.  I'll read a bit and jot down some sentences about anything, as has been my practice since 1975 when I became a teacher.  I will pop over to Leo High School and check the e-mails and phone messages.  At 8 AM, I'll lock up, check the Sangamon Street side door to see if the pad lock is secure and head south on Vincennes to 116th, make a quick right hit Easter Mass at Sacred Heart Church.

Today was different.  

House sounds tend to pluck me from the arms of Morpheus - sump pump kicking in, furnace oddities that sort of stuff.  If any of the kids are staying at the house, I'll sleep with one eye open for their return from twenty-something adventures on Western Avenue.  

Today was different.

I heard the floors above me ( I sleep in the basement) creak and the sound of the refrigerator opening and closing, as well as the rustle of pans. Maybe, the Fruit of My Loins had come south from Wicker Park for a night of roistering with his contemporary Catholic League Alumni boon chums and was treating them to an omelet. Could be, because something smelled mighty tasty. The girls always go straight to bed, but my son goes all Food Channel, when lickered up - like his Paw.

I performed the daily Triple S, donned a pair of sharply creased chinos and blue steel Aran knit and headed up the stairs, " Toss a few on the plate for your Silver Haired Pappy, Son!"

No response.

Odd.

There, instead of my son, or one of my daughters was The Mayor of Chicago deftly swirling what appeared to be a wholesome skillet full of carefully diced green red and yellow peppers and onions.  I noticed a plate on the counter of crisp nuggets of sauteed pancetta and a cloth stuffed basket containing six biscuits.  The 55th Mayor of Chicago added a bowl of carefully beaten eggs with a dash of 2% milk into the pan and swirled the mixture of yellow, red, green and white goodness over the flames. " You have yet to pay your water bill and that had been sent out in January, if I'm not mistaken," said the 54th descendant of William Butler Ogden, " and why have you not had a water meter installed?  Just asking."

I was dumb-founded and for once in my flannel-mouthed life speechless.

The Mayor was all on task and yet he continued, " Look, you have said and written some pretty . . . over-the-top things about me - Coon Eyes, Mayor 9.5, Ballet Boy and such . . .I get it.  Most of your family seem to like me well-enough, but you seem to only want to be some kind of latitudinarian odd-ball, regular guy Democrat.  You have called me, in print mind you, a Prique.  I have kids, too.  Look.  I may not get your vote, but I'd sure like to change your heart. Sit done and have a nosh of breakfast."

Finally, I was able to speak and asked, " How'd you get in?"

" Back door was unlocked.  I checked your garage and every thing seemed in order.  Do you always leave it unlocked?" he fired back questions.

I told him that my neighbors were all cops, firemen, FBI and Secret Service agents.  

" Whatever," the mayor shrugged and added the pre-crisped and drained pancetta to the bubbling omelet and concentrated on its outcome.

" Chuy Garcia make you breakfast?"

I laughed an obvious reply to negative.

" Well has he?" Rahm Emanuel had cast off the happy chef demeanor and laser-ed his black rimmed eyes and parted his thin lips to reveal his ossein and metaphorical fangs.

"No, Chuy Garcia has not cooked me breakfast; nor have I had the pleasure of meeting the man," I feigned backbone in retort.

"But you have met me!"  His voice was pure menace, but his culinary manipulations belied his tone as he plated up and served my breakfast of cold fresh squeezed orange juice, hot black coffee, Omelet Ala Rahm, hand rolled biscuits and wedges of melon. " Eat. Enjoy."

I tucked away at the swell meal, like a guy going to the chair. . .perhaps I might.

The Mayor waxed on, " Old Coon-eyes, Old 9.5, The Dancing Prique just cooked you an Easter Breakfast. Me. I rub elbows with Big People, Hickey.  You are a @#$%ing termite!!!!  A delusional know-it all who can't be grateful for all that I have done.  All that I have given up - like Sleep!  Yeah, this Prique made you breakfast!  You got anything to say?"

I held up an index finger miming a period of grace before my response, because my pie-hole was stuffed.  I chewed carefully and savored every dancing flavor from the fork-full of breakfast bounty. Finally, when I had cleared my oral orifice of every particle of primary fuel, I answered.

"Hey, thanks for breakfast,"  

The Mayor cleaned the pots, skillets, sauce pans, baking pans and cutlery. He sprayed the prep-counter with Windex all purpose anti-biotic cleaner, as well as the stove top and scrubbed every station in the cooking process and wiped the handle of icebox. 

Without another word, Rahm Emanuel zipped up his wind-breaker and went out the back door.  He beeped open the door of his black 2015 Toyota Prius C and pulled out of my driveway.

I thought for a moment.

" Prique," I muttered, "but one damn fine breakfast."

"Money Means Something" My April Column for Irish American News

                                  

 Kareem on the right inthe Virgin Mary Blue Polo is the hardest working guy I know

Naceda and Bidya on the right are the hardest working women in American!


                                                      Money Means Something

Work in the worldly life relies upon diligence. Therefore, man is required to work hard and actively, leaving behind laziness. The Quran and Sunnah direct us towards this understanding. Allah The Almighty Says (what means):

{And say, “Work, for Allah will see your deeds, and [so, will] His Messenger and the believers.”} [Quran 9:105]

                                                 

I was brought up to work hard.  My father worked three jobs and my mother was housewife in the care of three kids.  All of my uncles and a few of my aunts had more than one job outside of the home.   My family left Ireland in the early part of 20th Century, when Teddy Roosevelt was President – Grandpa Hickey, a big husky Kerry bogman, worked in the Chicago stockyards, then as a stockyard police man and then helped found the Stationary Engineers Union in Chicago. Granny Hickey from the islands off southern Kerry and then near Cahirciveen came to the States with little English and fewer pennies and worked for the swells in the magnificent homes on south Prairie and Calumet Avenues as a cook learning from a Mexican and an African American woman.

They met when they worked at the Metro pole Hotel on Cermak Road, Larry heaving coal into furnaces and Nora cooking for the swells. They married at Holy Family on Roosevelt Road and had fourteen children- seven boys and seven girls.  One little girl died of a fever, they were fortunate. Thirteen role models and American workers lived through the Depression, World War II and labor warfare.

I once walked past a penny on the sidewalk and my Dad barked, “pick that up!’  It’s only a penny. “ Your Grandfather, my brothers and me and hundreds of other working-stiffs walked hundreds of miles on picketlines, got a nightstick on the head, spit at, arrested and locked-out of jobs for that penny, smartass.  Now, pick it up and give it to your brother when we get home.”

Money means something.

I respected that for the balance of my life.  My Dad and uncles were easy with buck and always Duke’d us little guys with some “Walking Around, Folding Dough and Spending Loot.”  Uncles Bart, Donny, Sy, Mike, Bud and Jack knew the value of a dollar and knew how to part with it with liberal ease.  Money means something to little guys. It means comic books, Dixie Cups, Chuckles and Pop.

Money represents the values of hard work, sacrifice, loyalty and labor.

Granny Hickey always paid a ‘special visit’ to Monsignor Stephen J. McMahon of Little Flower Church. The Hickey’s were among the first settlers in that great parish and helped build its still magnificent campus, now used by Charter Schools and Father Pfleger.  The priest’s house is where the pastor of St. Sabina’s parks his cars.

The Irish immigrants from County Kerry helped  the Church and the founding of a grammar school and convent and eventually a co-educational Catholic high school, later closed by Cardinal Cody only to make the point to other pastors that he could.

Money means something.

I was reminded of that fact on Sunday March 15th just before the South Side Irish Parade conducted by a son of Little Flower Parish Tom McGourty from 77th & Wood Street.  I was going to Mass at a cousin’s home which is an annual family gathering and I needed to get out of the neighborhood before the parade step-off.  Streets are strategically blocked after 10 AM.  I needed to get to Oak Park by 11 and Mass was at 9:30, so I drove to 99th & Oakley – I usually walk over to my cousin’s house.  I found a good spot for easy parade egress and a clear path to the Dan Ryan and decided to grab a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts on 104th & Western Ave.

It was here that I recalled my peasant roots and immigrant values when I was greeted by my pal Kareem, the manager of Dunkin Donuts/

Kareem and his crew of Naceda, Larry and Bidya are my family.

Every morning, Monday through Friday, I am at Dunkin Donuts a little after 4 AM, where I am greeted with Kareem’s hale and happy, “ Leo Hickey! How’s Myles Turner( a Leo Man shot up by gangbangers and struggling to walk again); He’s at Chicago State, yes?”  I answer as best I can and say good morning to Naceda and Larry from India.  This happy couple live in Homer Glen.  Bidya always asks, “ How’s  Jimmy Sexton, I love that man!”  Mayor Jimmy Sexton, also a Little Flower man, of Evergreen Park helped Bidya recover more than $ 4,000 from a fraud of a window contractor.  Jimmy Sexton knows the value of a buck to hard-working people.  Cousin Sylvester “Sy” Hickey, Chief Engineer at Cook County’s Stroger Hospital arrives and fights me for the morning payment of the Zoom Juice.  I surrender easily, always have. Kareem does the color commentary.

Kareem is a native of Morocco, lived a while in France and is married to an American girl and together they have three lovely children .  They live on 99th Street on the border of Evergreen Park.  Kareem is at work every morning at 3AM and he is present every day.  He says, that he always takes Sunday off to clean the garage and do a Dad Commands Clean-up of the homestead, followed by a spoiling of the children outing.

I call Kareem and his crew the hardest working Americans always to their protestations – “ Painter Pat Maloney works much harder!”  He do?  I have only witnessed these role models move with speed, race and accuracy in making change and always with smiling grace. 

Kareem, Bidya, Naceda and Larry seem to be there every day. They do not own the franchise; they own non-stop flow of customers, greeted by name and always with genuine affection. America will be just fine.  A couple out of County Kerry did their kids proud and they, in turn, the same.

Money means something.

The Bible speaks of it and so does the Quran.  

From Irish American News for April (p.45)

Could Today, April 3rd, Be The Exact Parallel Date of the Crucifixion? Scholars, Sources and Loyola in the 1970's

 

On the whole I consider that the date A.D. 33 April 3 offers fewer difficulties than any of the
others, but my ambition has been rather to explain the character and tendencies of the different
lines of evidence than to arrive at a conclusion, and I believe, as I certainly hope, that my opinionhas in no part of the discussion been biased by the desire to support any particular conclusion. J.K. Fotheringham 1934

Those of us who studied at Loyola University in the 1970's remember Father Filas, S.J. as one of the pivotal scholars in the study of the historical Jesus, based upon his deep scrutiny of the Shroud of Turin.  Father Filas seemed to be Loyola's show-horse. I never had the opportunity to study with Father Filas, but many of my pals had the pleasure.  We were the south side L-crowd and took classes in the old brown stone Lewis Towers and the now long gone Marquette Center which was accessed by a bridge over Rush.  I missed out on Father Filas.

There were others, many other: Dr. Francis Swarzenberg, Dr. Larry McCaffery (Leo '43), Father Charles Ronan & etc.

I recall taking classes and a senior seminar on English histor from the War of Roses to the Stuarts with Dr. Lionel Trimble. Dr. Trimble was an exacting scholar who expected no less than exacting work from this former member of Janitors Local #25 and a senior hoping to graduate on time with Mike Manske, James "Molly" Molloy, Mike Miller, Mary Kay Harvey, Joe Phelps and Rita Buckley, with whom he had begun his baby steps on the scholastic throw rug.

Dr. Trimble argued for the very best sources, as the only key to unlocking the past.  Paper and parchment crumbles, rots, burns and tucks neatly away in places meant to shun the eyes of the curious. Censorship, neglect, wars, pestilence and the ancient examples of losing the TV remote affected history as well.

We must always be careful about jumping to conclusions - Irish Inquiry.

We must always be sceptical of partisanship when it comes to memory - Irish Alzheiners.

We must always look to 'the best sources.' One is an excerpt, unearthed, so to speak, and reprinted in Real Clear History,

Early this morning of good Friday, I finished reading a great old piece of scholarship by J.K. Fotheringham (14 August 1874 – 12 December 1936).  John Knight Fotheringham was a British scholar of Middle Eastern history and religious history.

Fotherigham dove into the deep end of the pool and came up with treasure chest packed with scholarship: Hebrew, Greek, Latin and Aramaic sources that includes Josephus, the Synoptic Gospels, as well as the Gospel of John, Tacitus, Annidazugga, as well as, what we should call, modern (His contemporaries) studies.

This is a dense read. It is slow going.  It was just like the dusty texts and manuscripts dumped in my mitts by Dr. Lionel Trimble concerning that nasty son of a bitch Perkin Warbeck.   Yet, we arrive at a scholar's conclusion. April 3, A.D. 33.

The primary morals of an undergraduate, wearing Orchestra Hall janitor's wear, come back and I nod with conviction.  Old Johnny Knight Fotherington nailed it.  Maybe.  

My Return to the Classroom to Make Constant War on Test Scores and Low Expectation

The world suffers its well-meaning fools,
who often jump in before sensibility rules.
Afraid to confront what they know not,
they carry their protection like a frock. Ronald W. Hull 

I have missed teaching English to high school kids.  In order to support my family, I have been doing Institutional Advancement work since 1994 - exclusively.  Here, at Leo High School, I have substituted in the classroom when and where needed. One year I taught science for three weeks. Christ forgive me.

Time to go back in.

The kids need an experienced, demanding and deeply schooled goad in the classroom.  The need is great.  One of the most heroic young men that it has been honor to meet in forty years of teaching and education struggles with reading and he will graduate and go on to college in few months.

He has never been challenged.  I pick the young man up in Bronzeville every morning and he is constantly buried in some text.  One teacher even  selected a For Dummies product.  I am not kidding. That was my epiphany - or, in Apple/Smart Book language my WTF moment.

I told the fierce and moral young gent, " Read anything, but this is a bit off-putting."

He replied, " What's 'off-putting?'

" It means if you are handed some horseshit, don't eat it."

" Word."

" To be sure, my friend.  How did you feel when these books were trotted out."

" I was pissed, but Mr. _______ said that we needed this to get the basic understanding of the stuff."

"  Would you rather eat at Mikey D's, or Schaller's? "

" Schallers no doubt."

" Why?"

" The food is better and they treat you with dignity. not like some punk."



The teacher was well-meaning and having read the entry scores formed his curriculum.

More damage has been done by well-meaning chart readers than anything caused in nature.  Neville Chamberlain, General Walter Short, WEB Dubois, . . .

I will return to the classroom and I will use the Norton Introduction to Literature Anthology  at all four levels.  Four years;one book.

No kiddie lit; no pop novels; no ethno-centric pap,  no PC huggie books, no comic books; no graphic novels, but real meaty poetry, fiction, drama and prose, as well as critical essays.  The students will read and understand what they read.  They will speak of what they read and they will write about what they have read

I get sickened when I find hundreds of unopened, unread and discarded copies of To Kill a Mockingbird, The Kite Runner and The Great Gatsby covering the halls on the last day of the year.  One text for four years.

They will not be denied contact with white table cloths, cutlery and cuisine.  They will not be denied courtesy and prompt service from their attendant service provider.  They will knock down the best in writing and thought.  They will learn to be discerning This I pledge.

This will be no tip-toe through the tulips in search of rainbows and unicorns. This will be a bitch and a half and worth it.

Real Words from a Real Heart: A Response to an Unreal Media Hack Job by the Sun Times

 

This letter appeared in a post on 19th Ward Blog, a wonderful site.  It is the letter from my friend Mike Joyce responding to the cut-and-paste attack ad put together by the Sun Times Watchdogs on Palm Sunday.

"Don't shed any tears for me on the Sun Times smear piece done on me yesterday. I'm a big boy I can handle it. Rahm's got to be pretty desperate for me to rate the front page on a weekend where dozens of people were shot.
For the record I was never contacted for comment on the article. If I had been contacted I would have informed them that I have worked on over 30 elections since Emanuel became mayor and that revenge and my family members were not pertinent to my support of Chuy Garcia.
I am very proud of all of my family members and when somebody in the neighborhood is looking for help they are always there for them. As an elected official my father worked harder and did more for the residents of the 19th Ward than anybody. He did his job tirelessly, selflessly and didn't seek credit or publicity for serving his constituents. He was personally responsible for appointing Mike Sheahan, Ginger Rugai and Tom Dart to their first public offices. My brother Kevin was elected and served the residents of the 19th Ward as an Illinois State Representative. Kevin is a cancer survivor and is now the Vice President of Ave Maria University in Florida.
Both my father and my brother were personally and politically pro life Democrats. There has been nobody in Illinois politics that has been more pro union than my father or my brother.
As far as my involvement with Chuy Garcia goes, I became acquainted with Chuy Garcia through my good friend in the boxing business JC. JC's father and Chuy brought the great labor leader Cesar Chavez to Chicago over 30 years ago. I am supporting Chuy because he is the right candidate for our neighborhood. He has promised to hire 1000 new Police Officers that our community desperately needs. He grew up in a real Chicago neighborhood, attended St. Rita High School, is way more in tune with our community than Rahm.
 Rahm is the wealthy Washington insider whose union credentials include making millions with his billionaire buddy Anti Union Governor Bruce Rauner, passing American job killer NAFTA, saying F*** the United Auto Workers and telling Chicago Teacher's Union President Karen Lewis "F*** you Lewis".
I admire all leaders in Organized Labor Unions. Many unions are supporting Chuy and the ones who are not have no reason to be anti Chuy. In his 30 year public service Chuy has a 100% pro union voting record.
I was proud to have Chuy march in the South Side Irish St. Patrick's Day Parade. He got a genuine rousing cheers all along the Parade route. Chuy has also gotten that kind of reception each of the many times he has visited the 19th Ward. The current mayor does not get that kind of reception in our neighborhood and our alderman did not even endorse him until after his own election was over.
The paper says that I am a lawyer and a boxing coach. It is true that I earn my living as an attorney but as a boxing coach I do not earn a penny. I use boxing to give back to the community.
For over 20 years I have served as a volunteer boxing coach at the West Englewood Boys Club, Leo High School and the Celtic Boxing Club. Through amateur boxing shows I have helped raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for worthy causes and charities including the St. Baldrick's Foundation, the Mercy Home, the Irish American Foundation, the National Italian American Sports Hall of Fame, Leo High School, the West Englewood Boys Club, the Officer John Hurley Family Fund, Catholic Charities, the Illinois State Crime Commission/Police Athletic League of Illinois, the Tommy Z Foundation, the Charlie Weiss Hannah and Friends Autism Foundation and many others. I have also had the opportunity to have inner city youth train alongside Chicago Police Officers and Chicago Firefighters for the Battle of the Badges.
The newspaper may want to bash me for political reasons but I am blessed and greatful for the support of friends in the community. My support for Chuy is based solely on my wanting my 3 year old grow up in a neighborhood that I grew up in."
The words of Michael J. Joyce, 3/30/15

Chicago Tribune Editorial April 15th, 1912. " Only Captain Edward 'Rahm That Iceberg' Smith Can Save This Ship!"

 

                                  What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

'The boat struck a iceberg at 11 o'clock on Sunday night.'The Captain was down in the saloon drinking and gave charge to some-one else to stare(sic) the ship.'It was the Captan(sic) fault.

Emanuel has said often that the pension reforms he negotiated with some unions should be templates for deals with others. He also offered three revenue sources to hold down property taxes: a city-owned casino, a broader sales tax and surpluses in tax increment financing districts. Amid their testy interruptions of one another, Emanuel's command of specifics seemed to flummox Garcia.

Bruce Dold's Editorial Board Defense of Rahming the Iceberg Smith Sent By Wireless Shortly Before 2:20Am, April 15, 1912

" Only Captain Smith has the sophistication, experience and daring to keep this good ship afloat! By Jingo, the salty old gentleman, is arrogant to be sure, but he was unblinking in his resolve to say, 'Damn yer eyes, Mr. Iceberg, and give me  the whale road!'
It is only 11:45 P.M. and there is plenty of time to right His Majesty's Good Ship Titanic!  Jesus has only the historical say-so of some Lake Galilee fisherman about 'calming storms' mighty cathches and even the ludicrously unscientific claim of walking on the waves!

         Only some ponce would argue that better man step up to ship's wheel.

Captain" Edward "Rahm that Berg" Smith is the man to . . .(gulp), (glug), GOD . ..HE DID NOT ORDER THE LIFEBOATS INTO THE WATERS???  .the water's rising!  Damn you, Ca. . . '

Tenebrae -Of Shadows in Altgeld Gardens: Good Intentions, Sin Guilt and Poor Old Judas.

Today is Spy Wednesday; the day Judas Iscariot took coin from Caiaphas and the gents of Sanhedrin in order to betray Jesus.

Money exchanged hands.

It was also the day that, while Judas was ensuring that no kid would be baptized with his cognomen, a woman from Bethany anointed Jesus with oil.

An expensive gift was given.

Spy Wednesday is also known as the Tenebrae, the Time of Shadows, when the liturgical year goes dark, until Easter. It signals the beginning of the Passion - Jesus conducts the first Mass on Thursday, followed by the agony in the Garden, the disciples beat it, Peter denies knowing Jesus, the Temple guards arrest Jesus, take Him to Caiaphas and Caiaphas hands Jesus over to the civil authorities. On Friday, Jesus is condemned by the secular government, tortured and crucified.

Money and gifts are signs of intentions.  One is awful and one is sweet.

Most of my greatest sins were rooted in what I thought were good intentions. I lacked the Wisdom to know the difference between evil and genuine sweetness.

Some of my best moments as a human being were rooted genuine sweetness.  In 1998, just after my wife passed away, I was heading home to Griffith, Indiana, where a local woman watched my three kids.  I was and remain a train wreck of complicated grief and self-pity.  I picked up a mother and her young daughter who were standing in the south-east bound emergency lanes of the Bishop Ford Expressway at 115th Street, near the OTB. She had been standing there with the little girl for about a half hour and needed to get home to Altgeld Gardens.  I asked her why she was on the Ford, when the Gardens were to the east and told to mind my own damn business. The little girl about six or seven cried up a storm.   It was snowing like a son of a gun.  The woman had blown her week's money at the Illinois Gaming Board Approved entertainment outlet.

I gave the woman a twenty spot and drove the two of them into the Gardens.  I felt pretty good.

The next night I went to Trump Casino, played Caribbean Stud and lost two weeks pay.  Not my first or last rodeo that one. I am one degenerate gambler - two recoveries and waiting for next fall from grace.

Judas got nothing on me, but despair.

We all slip and fall. Peter denies Jesus three times before the rooster does the two count; James and beloved John, as well as the balance of the Disciples went into the shadows, as well.  Pilate washed his hands.  The good people, after considerable polling showed that Barabbas was a sweetheart, shouted for Jesus' Crucifixion.  The Men of the Cohort gambled "responsibly" for Jesus' clothes. Yet, we all can ask for forgiveness.

Money is not a gift.

That's my lesson out of the shadow. Time for this sinner to hit the Confessional box.  Reconciliation is renewal - you can't have a Happy Easter, or a solid Passover, without it.  

Just in Time For Holy Week, Secularist Sanhedrin Schmich Sends People of Faith to Pilate

Only two weeks ago Chicago Tribune Pultizer Prize Winning Staff Member Mary Schmich penned a St. Paddy's Day Weekend Caveate that warned Chicago to beware of drunken Irish hooliganism. Nice.  The South Side Irish Parade was drunk and arrest free, not because of Mary Schmich's snarky nonsense, but because people of faith and family policed the event.

The same people who do not get their hackles up over the Indiana Religious Freedom legislation that protects a family-owned businesses, if that family is Christian, Muslim, Jewish, or Cargo-Cult Polynesian, from being sued by anyone objecting to their right to refuse services due to religious conviction.

I lived in Indiana ( LaPorte/Griffith) from 1988-1998 and I loved every minute of it.  I met Quakers, Baptists, Assemblies of God folks, Amish, Menonites, Hussites and a pretty healthy population of Catholics.  The Lutherans didn't like me because they owned Prairie Tavern in Rolling Prarie, because I stuffed a hog with potatoes instead of sauerkraut.  They got over it. Gay or straight Hoosiers loved Harry and Karen's Bohemian potatoes with diced morrel mushrooms.  Does that embarass anyone?

The above mentioned Hoosiers are devout and voted in Mike Pence and the legislature enacted a bill that protects people from lawyers - that is all.

Let's say Bed and Breakfast owner refused to give a thirteen year old boy and a twelve year old girl Honeymoon Weekend package, even though both sets of Atheist parents had given written permission for the youngsters to experience the full glory of everything they watch on HBO.

The Indiana Bill saves the owners from a lawsuit - that is all.

However, screaming is all about gay activism and vice versa.  Schmich again locks step with the secularist Progressive talking points and paints Indiana people with her massive rainbow brush attached her very own idiot stick - to get at the tough to reach places, like North Judson, or Amish country.
'Religious freedom' law gives Hoosiers another reason to be embarrassed

Schmich turns to a number of gay Hoosiers and fellow Meme-readers in print journalism for support of her thesis.

Missing are the basic examples of Hoosier embarrassment implied in the headline.

What are the other embarrassments?

Schmich explains,

Embarrass. Verb. em•bar•rass \im-'ber-us, -'ba-rus\
To make (a person, group, government, etc.) look foolish in public.

A person may tell me that I am embarassing, or that behavior is embarassing and then give me examples -

Wearing only a jock-strap and snowshoes to a wedding
Scratching my rump before shaking hands with Mayor Emanuel
Peeing in the swimming pool . . .from the fourth floor of the Atrium to Emabassy Suits
Eatin' fois gras at Alderman Joe Moore's Peoples Picnic
Those are examples of my embarassing behavior

 Mary says this legislation protecting religious freedom is "another' example of something embarrasing in Indiana.

Okay, that's the table cloth, Mary. What is on the table?

 Being a Hoosier of any political stripe has long meant enduring the mockery that comes from living in one of the most conservative states in the United States.
"Mississippi of the Midwest." "Welcome to Indiana: Please Turn Your Clock Back 50 years." Bumpkins.

Those are hurt feelings, Mary. What are examples of the legislated sources of embarrassment?

Does the Borman Expressway embarrass Hoosiers?
Are Cover Bridges Embarrassing?
Hoagy Carmichael make one blush?
Ezra Pound give one the willies?
Boilermakers?

Mary Schmich is bigot.  Therefore, I need to Schmich-up

A bigot  is one given to bigotry:Definition of bigotry in English:
noun
Intolerance toward those who hold different opinions from oneself:
the difficulties of combating prejudice and bigotry Origen:Late 17th century: from bigot, reinforced by French bigoterie. from the Oxford English Dictionary

 Let's not fault Mary Scmich too much;after all she is only doing what was exactly acted out in Roman occupied Judea 2,000 years ago.  Caiaphas and the members of the Sanhedrin took care of someone who disagreed with the meme du jour and turned that person over to the secular authorities and him rendered up to Caesar. The secular cry was " Give Us Barabbas!" Barabbas was a community activist jailed for being a member of Occupy Jerusalem.

Traditional marriage is no longer acceptable as thought, or phrase, or matter of historical fact, because very wealthy gay activists have funded the term out of common conversation.

Mary is on the side of the secular angles and so was Pilate.

Come the Resurrection, maybe the bigots will have the scales drop.

Happy Holy Week, Mary, the People of Indiana, Gays, Breeders and Polynesian Cargo Cult Followers!

 

Chicago Dunciad: The Sun Times Watchdogs? Hardly. Rahm's Purse Pups More Exactly

"While pensive Poets painful vigils keep,/ Sleepless themselves to give their readers sleep" I 91–92) The Dunciad by Alexander Pope.

I am his Highness' dog at Kew;
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?
"On the Collar of a Dog".Alexander Pope

I am a devout Papist.  Catholic born-bred and believing, but I am a disciple if Alexander Pope, who was the John Kass of the 18th Century. Unlike, Chicago's John Kass, Alexander Pope had a very weak constitution: sickly and small;nevertheless, was fierce foe of frauds and fawning lick-spittles - especially those who lived by the pen and the pay of politicians.

Men of talent can be hacks.  Hell, if I had the opportunity I'd probably be one too.  As it is, I live in simple and fortunate honest poverty.

Today's Sun Times Watchdogs ( giving ones self a nickname always bothered me)  as two very talented investigative writers for the editorially compromised and daffy Sun Times, Tim Novak and Chris Fusco presented burnt offerings to the Rahm Emanuel election campaign.  The family of Jeremiah Joyce gets the treatment.

Nothing new, nothing ground-breaking, nothing here but clippings of old items meant to arouse the ire of dim-wits and partisans. This a solely punitive piece; meant to hurt people and not inform.

It is a pretty nasty piece of work performed for a particularly nasty person who is scared out of his wits by Chuy Garcia and anyone who stands with Rahm's foe.

I love the Joyce family, because they are honest, unpretentious people who help people who need help.  Mike 'Pickle' Joyce is not only the most great-hearted and fiercely loyal person I know, but also the smartest person I have had the pleasure to meet  with exception of the late Steve Allen.  Mike has coached the African American young men of Leo High School without pay and out of his own pocket for nearly two decades - because Mike loves them and the school.

I know, not intimately, all of the Joyces.  Each and every one of them is a fine person. Nevertheless, The Watchdogs trotted out old news spun as political gold.

Gold is a metaphor for crap in classical literature, by the way.

Tim Novak and Chris Fusco acted more like purse puppies than Watchdogs.  That is a sad waste of their time and their talents.

Fawning Bob, "I'm With Rahm" Fioretti!

 

“If there is a run off, I will support whoever the challenger is,” the alderman said then. “We need a change. Chicago is headed in the wrong direction under this mayor.” Fighting Bob Fioretti only last month.

Count on it!

7.4 out of 100 Chicagoans took Bob's word and cast their votes to the February 24th wind!

Well, like most simple, hard-working, salt-of-the-earth, 'unsophisticated' Chicagoans, I pretty much ignored Bob Fioretti.

Rahm Emanuel did not and probably sent Fighting Bob a sophisticated Whitman Sampler chock full ganche covered alewives and smelt with nice note hand penned from Mayor 9.5's delicate fingers, "Dive In, Bob!"

Now, today we learn about Fawning Bob Fioretti,

 “We need a mayor that can dive in, rather than a mayor that wants to create a commission to look at the problem that his supporters say does not exist,” the Fioretti statement said. “The mayor and i disagree on many issues. . . . My endorsement is about which of these two candidates is ready and able to take on the tough financial challenges this city faces. For me, that candidate is Rahm.” (emphasis my own)

He belongs to the ages, now! He belongs to this - 

Video from Second City Cop

Time for Another "Rahm Can't Lose" Poll, After Garcia Pins the Dancer!

UpDate - March 30, 2015: Told You the Poll was Coming! And Easter is Sunday.

He might not be King of the City, but he is Rahm of the Urban Jungle, and last night he got thumped by Commissioner Garcia, while dancing through the weeds.

The clear-cut aggressor in their second debate, Garcia even flattened Emanuel when the mayor tried to claim credit — as he did in one of his earliest campaign commercials — for a landmark achievement in Garcia’s backyard.
“Let’s take the neighborhood of Little Village that Chuy’s represented for 30 years. Working with community leaders, I finally closed the coal plant that was there spewing pollution,” Emanuel said during the debate on Fox32 Chicago.
Garcia was so incensed by Emanuel’s attempt to claim credit, he literally laughed out loud.

As did we all . . .

Now, we can expect a poll conducted by the firm of Ogden and Nash, or whatever, showing Rahm with 99.5% advantage.

A random selection of  three imaginary voters(Desiree Rogers, Andy Shaw and Gator Bradley)  were given the following questions

1: What is your political party?
2: Do You Like You Job?
3: Rahm, or Poke in the eye with a hot pierogi?
4: What are your thoughts on The Epic of Gilgamesh?
5: Does race effect your shopping choices?
6: Does religion matter to Pope Francis?
7: What about gender? What about ganders? What about garters?
8: Does sexuality effect your views on sleep?
9: Does a politicians fingers matter?
10: What about college drinking?
11: Do you have anything to say about this quiz? Please say something. I'm lonely.  I'm a pollster.

Results:not for the squeamish

 1. All Identified as Democrats 2. All liked their jobs;especially, Urban TranslatorGator Bradley 3. Two of three voters ( Desiree Rogers, Andy Shaw and Gator Bradley) prefered Rahm to a poke in the lamps with steamiung pierogi, but Desiree Rogers hesitated asked for more time and finally asked for both. 4. No opinions - even Andy Shaw 5. All three race to shop 6. I guess . . . 7. Gender, ganders and garters matter - don not ask and certainly do not tell, but Gator loves garters! 8. Yes, especially when a new job at the Lotto, Peoples Gas, Obama White House and The Illinois BGA 9. Only to the candidate, when visiting  The Husky Hog BBQ at 335 W 31st St, Chicago, IL 60616 The Huslky Hog is crazy good!10. Weed.11. Not about nor to the pollster so much as a kind word.

The Chicago Snow Man - March 2015

The Side of House Hickey, only two days ago - March 2015

Chicagoans, you've earned this!  America's greatest poet was a shy business guy.  He knew.  So, do we all.

 The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.