We called again. And again. On the third go-round, the inspector had pity on us. "Girls," he said, because we were clearly children, not adults, "Girls, the building is owned by a precinct captain. She gets ninety-two percent voter turnout in this precinct. No one cares how cold your building is."
From From Sara's terrific "Ode to the Season" essay in today's Tribune.
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I don't think things have changed all that much in the last 30-40 years. Look at our county government: closing health clinics for the poor while paying picnic table inspectors $75k a year and mail sorters $115k a year. Of course, not just anybody can get those jobs. They are "arranged" with winks and nods and sips from lukewarm Old Style tallboys, and sometimes bags of money change hands, too.
On the local news front, sad to hear that the Pigeon Man of Lincoln Square got hit by a van and died. He'd been a fixture on Northwest Side forever. Going to the Walgreen's at Lincoln and Lawrence won't be the same. He won't be around for Alderman Schulter's eminent domain land grab.
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