listen town. I've been here a while now. yeah I know. not as long as you. yeah that probably makes me a bit of an upstart, feeling full enough to talk about you and your problems. yeah, I'm not the first to do this, am I?
won't be the last either. but no matter.
what I wonder, town, is just what you're up to these days. if you were a person I'd think it time to send you to Rimrock or Betty Ford, 'cuz you're fucking wasted on something, dude. and you're not even bothering to climb out of that bilge you're stewing in.
and I want to know why.
ya see, town, I've been in the pit myself. a lot of times. and a few of those times it was me who put me there, not someone or something else. me. and how I reacted to my surrounds.
so what's bugging you, town? what about your current state of ...uh... affairs is bugging you? it's something. or things. I'm betting things. you're pretty damned stewed.
could it be you've been a bit of a couch potato lately, town? eating, drinking, burping, farting, napping, sleeping, eating more, drinking more, burping and farting a hell of a lot more. you remind me of Jabba the Hutt, or Fat Bastard, or that incredibly fat and obnoxious dude at the end of Monty Python's Meaning of Life.
small wonder your mayor is a lot like those three I just mentioned. but I'm sure there's no connection.
town, you used to be a good pal. fun to hang around. pretty much up for anything, without a whole lot of jerks hanging around to ruin the fun. no crowds, that's what I mean. and especially not crowds of uptight yuppie douchenozzles, or proto-yuppie mini-sodas and dakotas. used to be a guy could ride his bicycle anywhere, no gigantic SUVs driven by braindead bimbos on their bluetooths blabbing to betties and bridgets about boobs boys blowjobs bankaccounts barberedpussies and bioaccessory bichomos who will run you right off the fucking road while they are spitting stupidity into their cellphone.
and then there's the priapic professionals you seem to be welcoming as if you were some Wall Street bond trading house. you know who I mean here, town. I mean those asswipes driving sports sedans from Europe that cost at least $75k. the cardiac surgeons, dermatologists, plastic surgeons, psychiatrists, architects that you have given free rein. your junior stormtroopers don't seem too intent on handing out speeding tickets or other traffic violation summonses to these Sons of Arrogance, who are bested only by the zombified bimbos I mentioned earlier when it comes to outright road danger on your streets.
but the stormtroopers don't mind them. hell I hear some of your ossy-furs snort coke with some of these overpaid fratboy upscalers you're building houses for all around your perimeter, big shouting screaming commanding places with 6-car garages, 21 rooms, and million-dollar security systems where the fratboy "professionals" and fratboy coppers snort coke and watch their boy-boy porn vids cribbed from NAMBLA friends.
yeah, town. you're really moving up the social ladder.
I like the way you've taken care of the less fortunate, too. you know what I mean here, right? no, no, no. not the Poverello Center. that's not you, remember? no, I'm talking about the "low-income housing" that's really for people who know how to use creative accounting to make about $50,000 of their annual income disappear -- but only on paper, right, and only for the purpose of qualifying for your "low-income housing." it's funny, town. all your "low-income" residents in your "low-income housing" are pretty well-off. someone skeptical might even guess your "low-income housing" is a big lie.
the real low-income housing is over where I live, or down on Felony Flats. it's not any of the City's "low-income housing." not even close.
sounds to me like a con job, town. but hey, I can give a guy a break. maybe in a weak moment you listened to someone -- a "consultant" perhaps -- when you were busy being plied with whatever juice you've been on lately. maybe that "consultant" told you that you need cosmetic low-income housing for this purpose or that, probably to boost your "national profile" to get more mention in magazines, on TV, in radio spots, et cetera. 'cuz ya know, that's really what's important.
and hey -- while I'm on that point -- can you explain one of your fetishes to me?
oh sorry. you do have a lot of them, that's right.
I mean the fetish with "growth". the BIG fetish.
your roly-poly patrician, Mayor Fat Bastard, is always beaming about our "growth" -- maybe to distract from his own waistline, maybe to feel unity because of his waistline, maybe to suggest that everyone needs to be bigger than they are? I don't know. I know only that when Mayor Fat Bastard also brags on your quality of life, he's not talking about the great things I've mentioned above. he's not bragging on the pedophile police snorting coke with your vaunted "professional" class. he's not bragging on the stupid vain princesses of Southgate Mall who run over children, pets, pedestrians, bicyclists, and smaller vehicles as if they were failed sorority pledges. he's not bragging on the huge glut of red-light runners, stop sign-ignorers, 35mph-over-the-limits drivers... is he? is he talking about the endless traffic and noise and pollution caused by the "rush hours" in the morning and evening? I doubt it.
but hey -- maybe you're proud to have a rush hour. maybe that makes you feel like you're catching up to Spokane or something. shit, if you try just about 2% harder, you can outpace Boulder -- and I know how Mayor RolyPoly would LOVE to have that status!
if you wanted to be Boulder, why didn't you just go to Boulder?
if you wanted to be Seattle, why didn't you just go to Seattle?
why are you turning this setting into something else? why are you ruining its individual qualities in favor of McEverywhere?
I think I know why.
1) you don't have to eat everything put in front of you.
2) you don't have to drink everything put in front of you.
3) you don't have to smoke everything put in front of you.
4) "rich" people don't know better than you.
5) "big cities" are not better just because they're bigger.
6) bigger isn't better.
7) "professional" is a synonym for "arrogant asshole," not for "admirable person"
8) if you would rather be somewhere else, then please go there. some of us like it here.
thanks old pal. hope you enjoy things in Chicago. pack a big van, I don't think you'll be wanting to return.