By Dan Haley
Election Day dawns. It should not be 82 degrees on primary day in March. Something is wrong. Something more than Rick Santorum being a legitimate contender for the GOP nomination. No, the Bradford pear trees just outside our office windows on Oak Park Avenue should not be in bloom on March 19. They're supposed to tease, to slowly open their buds to our lingering gaze over days and weeks. Instead we arrive to work on Monday and there they all are, rouged up and on display. Santorum wouldn't want any part of their usual loving seduction, but then I don't think he'd approve of their tawdry overnight arrival either. These trees are damn tarts.
Trees should be the right height. They should have bark and leaves. Maybe they should breathe in carbon monoxide and breathe out fresh clean air for little children and puppies to enjoy. But really, where is the science on that? How sure are we that this chlorophyll stuff isn't some sort of ruse. And surely trees should not be covered in flower blossoms, sweet-smelling strumpets, inducing young men to swipe their arms around the waists of young women with their minds on just one thing. Actually it is the fault of the women. They want their free contraceptives and their freedom. They wear all that nauseating perfume so they can smell like flowering trees. Full circle. Something is wrong.
The postal carriers rejoice this election morn. No more hauling dubious one-sheeters touting judges spending copious amounts of someone's money to win a job with just an upper-middle-class salary, a decent pension, and, once elected, near lifetime job security. Who'd want that gig? And why do judges wear those black dresses? Pretty feminine to me. Sure, I know it goes back to the Brits, one more European Socialist import that we'd be better off without. It just reinforces gender confusion. And that leads to all that icky stuff that I can't cope with. One man. One woman. Shooting out babies. Have sexual relations twice, maybe three times, in your life. Ought to be plenty for any man. And if your wife starts smelling like a magnolia tree in heat, then get ye both off to the rector for "counseling."
Postal carriers are also free of hefting around the full color broadsides that are the new currency of even lowly races for state rep. Lilly vs. Nardello. Don't think this is simply a race between one nice lady who managed to get herself appointed to the state house vs. a semi-reformer Italian fellow. No, judging by the sheer number of anti-Nardello pieces that flooded my mailbox, mostly with the imprimatur of Mike Madigan's henchman on them, I'd say this has little to do with representing the West Side and Oak Park and everything to do with having a safe vote for Madigan's revolting status quo in Springfield.
And Sen. Don Harmon, Oak Park's own, Camille Lilly's benefactor, ought to have a short and to the point self-assessment as he looks in the mirror while shaving this Election Day and reflect on the very real pros and cons of rising in the ranks of leadership of the Democratic Party in this sorry state. It is not all upside, Senator.
Assuming Camille Lilly wins today, and that is a pretty safe bet, it will be her opportunity to assert her independence. No one in Austin, no one in Oak Park got up this morning with the intention of voting for Mike Madigan. Something is wrong. And Camille Lilly has the chance to help fix it.
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