Rod Blagojevich: So Long Governor Blowhard

Rod Blagojevich: So Long Governor Blowhard

Dear 40892-424,

 I know, kinda harsh sir...but this is how you're going to be addressed for the better part of the foreseeable future and the sooner you get comfortable with it the better.

Now, I am sure you, much like me, have probably had this date circled on your calendar for ... well, since the sentencing portion of your trial. 

Unlike me though, you probably did not add the exclamation points late last week when it was announced you would end the dry spell of your silence and give your FINAL press conference today.

Sorry pal, but I must admit I am bummed.  Totally bummed.  Not taking questions?  Really Blago? 

Are you sure you don't want to hear one last nasally query from a smug-looking Andy Shaw:  "Governor, won't you leave us with a quote?" 

I know I would.  I would relish one last quote from you before you depart for the big house.

Why?

Why?  Because it is going to be a long fourteen year drought once your freak flag is lowered and you begin your next chapter as 40892-424. 

Can we be honest?  The last three and a half years (okay, nine and some change if you consider the time spent in office) have been something that an Oscar-winning-screenwriter could not have penned if they tried.

Seriously, when you put your hand on the bible and took the oath of office back in 2003 did you ever in your wildest dreams imagine in March of 2012 you would be enjoying an unseasonably mild afternoon with Patty and the girls checking out the gorilla house at the Lincoln Park Zoo mere hours before you were set to embark on a fourteen-year vacay outside of Denver, Colorado?

Me neither.  See what I mean?  Couldn't make this crap up if you tried.

I imagine you imagined in mid-March of 2012 you would be knee-deep in a Presidential Campaign...am I right?

Damn straight. 

After all, isn't that what all the blood, sweat, and tears of the Governor's Office was supposed to assure you? 

All of those years of aggravation and some inexperienced Junior Senator with a weird sounding name and equally strange shaped ears is sitting fat on Pennsylvania Avenue at a desk that was supposed to have a picture of YOUR family on it? 

I'm with you, Sir.  I call bullshit.  Total BULLSHIT.

Instead of preparing for the Illinois Primary next Tuesday where the potential delegate count could have definitely cinched a nomination, you're packing a flippin' duffle bag and planning to say goodbye to your girls while watching the mid-day news where political reporters are camped out on your front lawn teasing that blasted five o'clock statement. 

More than likely you're also being taunted by Skilling's seven-day forecast of 70's and sunny and freaking the flip out.  What dumb luck...when was the last time you had a potential jogging window like this in mid-March? 

Probably the last time an Illinois chief was sentenced to fourteen frickin' years at the Englewood Federal Correction Center in Littleton, Colorado.

Go ahead...call it again...and, I assure you once again, I'm with you pal...BULLSHIT.

I cannot lie.  The rest of my day will be spent as a prisoner(pardon my wordage) to my T.V. and any potential breaking news out of Ravenswood Manor. 

The kids don't know it yet, but they are stuck with a take-out Costco Pie for supper because I don't have time to waste in the kitchen when my arse is going to be parked front and center on the couch. 

My feet will be resting on the coffee table while an ice-cold Diet coke will be comfortably clutched in my paw.  Ah, crap...since we are being honest I have got to tell you I have popped corn.

How will you say goodbye?  Any tricks up your tracksuit sleeve?  Want some suggestions?

I'm guessing it could go down three different ways...possibly four.

One: Take to the microphone at 5:02 p.m.  Humbly admit that you are guilty and then promptly throw out a quote. 

Here is an idea...quote Lewis B. Smedes (sure, not quite as cool as Kipling...but it will be a decade and a half before you are asked to defend its use)...

"The difference between guilt and shame is very clear-in theory.  We feel guilty for what we do.  We feel shame for what we are." 

And, then...here is the tough part...say nothing more while you head to the waiting vehicle, close the door and drive off into the sunset.

 Yeah~I agree...so not like you.

Okay...how about idea Number Two:  Go out "OJ Style"...give Sam Adam Jr. a jingle and gas up the  '88 Volvo Rob lent you...send a decoy out the front door at 5:02 while you guys take off like bats-out-of-hell via the alley straight to the Kennedy. 

You can flash quotes written on extra poster board ("It is a pity that we cannot escape from life when we are young"~Twain or "I'm left dying here instead with nothing.  A lock without a key"~Escape the Fate) out the window to the hovering copters above. 

Hop on the toll road and head north of the Cheddar Curtain...you should be safe there...look up the some of the state legislators Illinoisans kept under wraps a while back.  They owe somebody. May as well be you.

Oh, yeah...yeah...you're right.  Damn traffic is a bitch at that time...maybe you should have thought over the "last statement timeframe" a little better.

How about Number Three:  Grab that clown Quinn, a CTA bus and escape ala Reeves and Bullock, "Speed Style".

Your luscious locks will make you totally believable as Keanu...and, if you ask me, Governor Mumbles will be a natural in the woman's role.

And, don't let the bottleneck traffic deter you, either. 

Haul ass down the left-passing lane while you pump your fists and scream out the windows "how's this for a free effin' ride, bitches?". 

That will definitely open up your options "traffic-ly" speaking and no doubt people will be quoting YOU for years to come regarding the free ride.  Win/Win.

Say the boys in blue eventually haul you in...no worries...you can take Quinn with you. 

Much like the aiding and abetting in the March 14th bus escape, he is really guilty in aiding and abetting you for your entire career as Governor. 

How many years did he sit silently while you played hide-and-go-seek in the men's room of the Thompson Center while the issues of the state took place in your absence?

Yeah, if it were up to me, in a perfect world, Mumbles would be your cellmate.

If you are not convinced, you could always go with Number Four:  Pull a "Family VonTrapp".

Have Patty and the girls head out the front door a few minutes before five to warm up the crowd.  Your family strikes me as a bunch of entertainers.  I am sure Amy and Annie have wowed the Thanksgiving Crowd with a performance or two.

Have Patty play the part of the clock...she's tall enough for you and the kids to hide behind...and belt out a few verses of "So Long, farewell" blah, blah, blah, blah, blah...dunt da dum da dum da dum...then, have that Nun Rahm double-crossed in the water fiasco over at Misercordia act as your mechanic...

It will work like a charm. 

Looks like I am out of ideas...and you, Sir are running out of time.

Fourteen years seems like a steep sentence for being guilty of one thing... and you Sir are not a criminal.

It's not like you killed somebody or something, right?

Nope.

You are just an asshat.

You should have followed my advice from long ago.  You should have been more agreeable with the "real" Governor.

No, not Mumbles...Madigan.

He runs this State...and you refused to acknowledge it.

If you can't play with the big boys...you should have stayed on the front porch.

Too bad there isn't a twelve-step program for Asshattery...you probably could have shaved years off your sentence.

Good Luck to you Blago.  Good Luck to you, indeed.

xoxo,

Illinois

 

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