Turn that political frown upside-down
Eric Zorn
December 11, 2008
"This is a sad day for my state of Illinois."
?U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin
"It is a sad day for Illinois."
?Barack Obama
"This is a sad day for government. It's a very sad day for Illinois government."
?Patrick Fitzgerald
Oh, buck up!
Tuesday was a great day in Illinois, a thrilling day, an exciting, hopeful day; one of the few happy days we've had lately.
Fitzgerald, our relentless U.S. attorney, collared a governor who was, according to the complaint entered against him, an out-of-control shakedown artist and all-purpose sleazebag who was trying to sell a U.S. Senate seat to the highest bidder.
The oily populist whose stubborn, polarizing and dictatorial leadership style has all but paralyzed the state at a time when we can ill afford paralysis was frog-marched out of his house in handcuffs by dawn's early light.
That "holy moly!" moment was followed, hours later, by the release of an astonishing and?admit it?wildly entertaining 76-page bill of particulars in which Blagojevich's alleged transgressions were spelled out in all their bleep-tastic detail.
We learned that much of the evidence is recent and comes from surveillance audio, suggesting that prosecutors won't need to rely on the testimony of shady witnesses angling for reductions in their own sentences.
Any day that U.S. Atty. Patrick Fitzgerald brings forth such an array of charges against a big-fish defendant is a day to celebrate: Call it "Fitzmas," a joyous term coined three years ago in the liberal blogosphere when Fitzgerald was bringing indictments in the Valerie Plame-leak case. (Or, if you're Jewish, call it "Hahaha.")
Yet in statement after statement, our gloomy pols were keening as though a great leader had fallen or an important factory had closed. Perhaps this was their acknowledgment of the severity of the charges and the depths of the alleged betrayal of the people. Perhaps they felt it would be undignified to pump their fists and say "Yessssss!" as many of the rest of us did.
But look. There have been many sad days in Illinois political history. The days when elected officials have pocketed kickbacks, payoffs and bribes, for instance. The days when plum jobs went to nitwit relatives and big contracts went to top donors.
The complaint against Blagojevich alleges other sad days, including when he tried to extort a campaign donation from a hospital executive and get a Tribune editorial writer fired. Another sad day would be Wednesday, when Blagojevich went back to work as governor.
We never learn about these sad days, however, until after the fact?until the happy day when the law pounces.
It's probably a naive thought, but this Fitzmas could become a holly, jolly day on our state's calendar?the day our lawmakers wiped those obligatory frowns off their faces and decided finally to get serious about changing the political culture that so often gives us so many reasons to be sad.
Eric Zorn
December 11, 2008
"This is a sad day for my state of Illinois."
?U.S. Sen. Dick Durbin
"It is a sad day for Illinois."
?Barack Obama
"This is a sad day for government. It's a very sad day for Illinois government."
?Patrick Fitzgerald
Oh, buck up!
Tuesday was a great day in Illinois, a thrilling day, an exciting, hopeful day; one of the few happy days we've had lately.
Fitzgerald, our relentless U.S. attorney, collared a governor who was, according to the complaint entered against him, an out-of-control shakedown artist and all-purpose sleazebag who was trying to sell a U.S. Senate seat to the highest bidder.
The oily populist whose stubborn, polarizing and dictatorial leadership style has all but paralyzed the state at a time when we can ill afford paralysis was frog-marched out of his house in handcuffs by dawn's early light.
That "holy moly!" moment was followed, hours later, by the release of an astonishing and?admit it?wildly entertaining 76-page bill of particulars in which Blagojevich's alleged transgressions were spelled out in all their bleep-tastic detail.
We learned that much of the evidence is recent and comes from surveillance audio, suggesting that prosecutors won't need to rely on the testimony of shady witnesses angling for reductions in their own sentences.
Any day that U.S. Atty. Patrick Fitzgerald brings forth such an array of charges against a big-fish defendant is a day to celebrate: Call it "Fitzmas," a joyous term coined three years ago in the liberal blogosphere when Fitzgerald was bringing indictments in the Valerie Plame-leak case. (Or, if you're Jewish, call it "Hahaha.")
Yet in statement after statement, our gloomy pols were keening as though a great leader had fallen or an important factory had closed. Perhaps this was their acknowledgment of the severity of the charges and the depths of the alleged betrayal of the people. Perhaps they felt it would be undignified to pump their fists and say "Yessssss!" as many of the rest of us did.
But look. There have been many sad days in Illinois political history. The days when elected officials have pocketed kickbacks, payoffs and bribes, for instance. The days when plum jobs went to nitwit relatives and big contracts went to top donors.
The complaint against Blagojevich alleges other sad days, including when he tried to extort a campaign donation from a hospital executive and get a Tribune editorial writer fired. Another sad day would be Wednesday, when Blagojevich went back to work as governor.
We never learn about these sad days, however, until after the fact?until the happy day when the law pounces.
It's probably a naive thought, but this Fitzmas could become a holly, jolly day on our state's calendar?the day our lawmakers wiped those obligatory frowns off their faces and decided finally to get serious about changing the political culture that so often gives us so many reasons to be sad.
