The Scariest Thing on Teevee This Halloween Season?

Joe Scarborough trying to zap the mortal remains of Chris Matthews' career back to life.

Burn The Lifeboats

'Tis The Season

  

17 years ago, during the darkest depths of the Bush administration, I penned this riff on Edgar Allan Poe's most famous poem to try to capture what the world felt like at that specific moment in history. 

The "iciness, a sinking, a sickening of the heart".

And seeing how Halloween season is again hard upon us, and keeping with the No Fair Remembering Stuff leitmotif of this ancient blog,  it seemed like an opportune time to run down to the catacombs for a quick nip of Amontillado and haul it out of storage.  So once again I present...

Quoth the Hammer 

 

Nevermore.

With all respect to Edgar Poe, who's work I love and admire without reserve...

Once upon a bender bleary, while I pondered, weak and beery,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, 

With my nod on, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

(Actually more like a serious bitch-slapping), 

 

...smacking at my chamber door.

”WTF," I mumbled, "I’m on vacation! Ask Dick; he runs the nation.

Get off my ass and let Karl do it," I loud and soddenly swore.

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak September,

And every fucktard, camp-following member had been given his sinecure.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow

Chinese cash or some “Aw Shucks” Charisma from the the lost Gipp-er,.

For the Smilin’, Beguilin’ Monster who could sell our Republican Manure,

Dead and gone forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each voting booth curtain

Thrilled me---filled me electoral delirium tremens throughout all of 2004;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood bleating,

" 'Tis some Pioneer Contributor, or Halliburtoning Corporate whore

Or another dimwit frat rat trollop sporting a Santorum coiffure 

 

...This it is, and nothing more."

The Stoli shooters grew stronger; and hesitating no longer,

"Dicky?" said I, "Condi? Or is that Turdblossom? I recognize the spoor...

But the fact is, I was drinkin’, getting good and stinkin’

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---

Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, snarling, sneering

Jerking off to Armageddon dreams no one ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken –- no Condi or other token --

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "2004?",

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word," 2004!"

Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into my bottle turning, all the Jim Beam I’d guzzled burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,

"Surely," said I, "surely, that is Rumsfled with a briefing.

That will disassemble that bitch Sheehan’s beefing.

Let my heart stop Cheneying a moment, and this mystery explore.

" 'Tis just old crazy Rummy, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a hiss and splutter,

In there stepped a mangy Hammer, of the Mandate days of yore.

Not an ounce of sense made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But with Death Skull grimace, perched above my chamber door.

Shat upon a bust of Nixon, just above my chamber door,

Shat, and sat, and nothing more.

This Sugarland turd was so badly freaking, into my pants I went leaking,

Shocked by the deranged and murderousness of the countenance it wore,

"Though thy Majorityhood be shorn and shave," I said, "you are still craven,

Ghastly, grim, and wretched Hammer, rampaging like a rabid boar.

What the fuck do I do now that my assassin's been shown the door?"

Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled as this insanely ranting Dale Gribble spoke so plainly,

Though it’s answer little meaning, little veracity bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Would not projectile hurl upon seeing this two-legged offal above his chamber door,

A Christopathic beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

That can’t say shit but "Nevermore."

But the Hammer, a skulking minor demon, spoke only of his venom

Hissing that one word, as if his soul were stabbed with skewers.

Nothing further then he uttered; his heart was tightly shuttered;

Til I scarcely more than muttered, "How can I enjoy this Dewars?

Who shall ram my mandate now, through Congress' sewers?"

To which DeLay said, "Nevermore."

Like the thousand promises I’d broken, his word was oily spoken,

"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store."

Bred from drooling Texas losers, friend of low-wattage crooks and boozers

Partied fast and kneecapped faster, till his lies one burden bore ---

Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of "Never---nevermore."

But the Hammer still berserking looked into my dank soul smirking,

So Karl broke it down for me in little words of two syllables, no more.

”Your polls are a’sinking, on ice your lies are stinking

Iraq and Katrina the public are finally a’linking, and now comes this loony Texas hoor -

This grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous Sugarland hoor

So guess what he means by "Nevermore"?”

And the media scrum grew denser, now fueled by a Grand Jury’s censure

Wrought by a righteous prosecutor who ain’t taking this shit no more.

"Wretch," I cried, "now it’s all for nothing. For nothing I cheated Albert Gore.

So get me three fingers of two-cents-plain that I may forget by apotheotic 2004!

Drink and drink and puke and drink and forget my apotheotic 2004!

Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore!"

"You For-Profit, agenda-killing jag off" said I, "Faith-based pimp of Abramoff!

By that Dobson that bends us over -- by that God we both abhor--

Is there in the cushions where we shine our asses, even one dime of my political assets?

A whiff of my miracle Mandate year, which Pope Gregor named 2004 ---

My moment on the Mountain, COBOL programmers call Y2K-plus-four?

Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore."

"Shut up you fucking loser!" I shrieked, upstarting --

"Go back to offing roaches you salad tossing, Albatrossing spore!

Leave no poo stripe as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my binginess unbroken! Leave me a political Debtor!

Take thy dick from out my mouth, and take thy form from off my door!"

Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore."

But the Hammer, never quitting, still is sitting, still is shitting

Down the throat of my Dead Mandate, my ghost of 2004;

And his eyes still have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.

And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; 

And my Mandate from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted---nevermore!

Pay The Writer

The Tell-Tale Heart, Narrated By James Mason

Happy Halloween, citizens.

Birthday Fundraiser Day Six: It's a Dead Man's Party

(h/t Vault of the Atomic Space Age)

Once the Party Formerly Known As The Party Of Lincoln decided to outsource its decision-making to Fox News, Hate Radio thugs and unaccountable crackpot billionaires I suppose it was inevitable that their quadrennial presidential cow-chip throwing contest would get so deeply weird that these champions of unfettered capitalism would...

...unite together in the finest, Industrial Workers of the World tradition to use the power of collective bargaining.

To get rid of "debates" with "gotcha questions".

"Gotcha questions" like basic arithmetic and "stuff you did in the past":

GOP tells NBC next debate suspended over ‘gotcha’ questions

(CNN) — The Republican National Committee says it is suspending its February debate with NBC News amid anger over CNBC’s handling of this week’s debate in Boulder, Colorado.

NBC said in a statement it will “work in good faith to resolve this matter.”

RNC chairman Reince Priebus sent an open letter to NBC News chairman Andrew Lack on Friday declaring that they are “suspending the partnership” because the CNBC debate had been conducted “in bad faith.”

“While debates are meant to include tough questions and contrast candidates’ visions and policies for the future of America, CNBC’s moderators engaged in a series of ‘gotcha’ questions, petty and mean-spirited in tone, and designed to embarrass our candidates,” Priebus wrote, echoing the complaints lodged by many candidates.

“What took place Wednesday night was not an attempt to give the American people a greater understanding of our candidates’ policies and ideas,” Priebus added.

Priebus said that while he understood “NBC does not exercise full editorial control over CNBC’s journalistic approach… the network is an arm of your organization, and we need to ensure there is not a repeat performance.”

CNBC and NBC News are divisions of NBCUniversal, a media company owned by Comcast. They operate out of two different buildings and have different management teams, but they do collaborate on news gathering and reporting.

As chairman, Lack oversees NBC News and MSNBC, but not CNBC.

NBC was scheduled to host a GOP debate February 26 in Houston with both Telemundo and National Review as partners. Telemundo is a Spanish-language broadcaster owned by NBC, and National Review is a conservative publication.

Priebus’ letter said the RNC would ensure that National Review remains part of the debate, but didn’t mention Telemundo. “We still fully intend to have a debate on that day, and will ensure that National Review remains part of it,” Priebus wrote.

Three hours after the letter was released, RNC communications director Sean Spicer said the party hasn’t heard from Lack yet.

But NBC News said in a statement: “This is a disappointing development. However, along with our debate broadcast partners at Telemundo we will work in good faith to resolve this matter with the Republican Party.”

The letter from Priebus is a move to assert control over the debate process at a time when Republican campaigns seem poised to wrest control from the RNC’s hands.
...

As usual, I am betting that the most interesting angle to this story is what's going on behind the scenes. Specifically, I am wondering how NBC will increase it's already astronomical wingnut groveling quotient to further appease the Right.

Maybe a weekly "Point/Counterpoint" segment on "Meet the Press" featuring Mark Levin debating Sean Hannity over whether Barack the Kenyan Usurper destroyed Murrica on his own, or whether he was just the dupe of the Great Liberal Media Conspiracy.

Or maybe they'll just give a tape-loop of Rush Limbaugh playing "Barack the Magic Negro" over and over and over again its own show on MSNBC:

Whatever Andy Lack decides, I'm sure it'll be impressive. After all, if NBC has gotten really good at one thing over the last 15 years --

-- it's relentlessly pandering to the worst people in America.

So Happy Halloween, citizens!

And if you are inclined to kick a little into my tip jar during the waning hours of my birthday fundraiser, click the link below.

Happy Halloween -- Part II

Here is another of my small contributions to the literature of my favorite holiday.

Sorta,

From September, 2011:

While I Pondered, Weak and Weary 

Man you shoulda seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe.

Overall, my super-ooper-duper meta-opinion of the Reagan Debate was this: "Like I give a shit what these people think."

However, the pure moonshine being huffed the next day by those who have been cast out of Wingnut Paradise and now scamper alongside the cretinous Leviathan they helped create, kicking impotently at its ankles, is kind of hilarious.

A prime example (FrumForum):

...
Republican primary voters have in the past shown themselves very tolerant of candidates with less than perfect mastery of the facts. But those other candidates had something else going for them, even Sarah Palin. What did Perry have?

As the economic news gets worse, Republicans will realize: they are not merely choosing a nominee. They very well may be choosing the next president of the United States. What confidence can anybody have that Perry will come to work as president any better prepared than how he come to this debate or that he’ll show more insight and intelligence than he did in this first national outing ? Not much.
...

Witness the cask-strength wishful thinking of another weak, ivory tower Conservative on the outs with his Movement because the monster he helped build finally turned on him.

For 30 years we on the Left have watched facts bounce off of the Republican Base voters ever-thickening yahoo carapace like spitballs off of a Rhino Runner, so let me ask Mr. Frum: Where exactly are this hidden reserves of rationality supposed to come from? From what previously invisible treasure cave will physicians suddenly emerge carrying the healing medicines that will break the wingnuts' fever and cure them of the fatal Limbaugh-Hannity Syndrome with which they are so gleefully afflicted?

And once this miracle does occur and the lame are made to walk, the halt are make to speak and the Teabagger is made to see reason, wouldn't the second or third batch of rodents they would put up against the wall for screwing them so badly be goofs like you, Mr. Frum?

Sorry, but no.

No such anti-stupid vaccine is on its way to save us (and if there were, damn betcha the Teabaggers would opt out, because [as we learned last night] the True Blue Conservative solution to Famine and Pestilence [and, presumably War] to the is to leave them for pure laissez faire Capitalism to sort out because, y'know, Freedom!) Instead, these Golem that the GOP constructed to win elections are performing exactly as designed, and as a confirmed Liberal who long ago gave up on trying to convince people to see reason who are actually proud of how fact-resistant they are, there is a certain, gallows humor in hearing the squeal of clowns like Frum as they are eaten alive by their bastard children.

See how they run like pigs from a gun
See how they fly
I'm crying

In fact...there I was...

Sitting on a cornflake

Waiting for the van to come

Corporation T-shirt

Stupid bloody Tuesday

Man, you've been a naughty boy

You let your face grow long

I am the Eggman
They are the Eggmen
I am the Walrus

Mister city policeman sitting

Pretty little policemen in a row

See how they fly like Lucy in the sky

See how they run

I'm crying
I'm cry-'-ng
I'm crying
I'm cry-'-

Yellow matter custard

Dripping from a dead dog's eye

Crabalocker fishwife
Pornographic priestess


I am the Eggman
They are the Eggmen
I am the Walrus
Goo goo g'joob

Sitting in an English garden
Waiting for the sun


If the sun don't come
You get a tan from

standing in the English rain

I am the Eggman
They are the Eggmen
I am the Walrus
Goo goo g'joob goo goo g'joob

Expert texpert,

choking smokers

Don't you think the joker

laughs at you?


See how they smile

like pigs in a sty
See how they schnied
I'm crying

Semolina Pilchard

Climbing up the Eiffel Tower


Elementary penguin

singing Hare Krishna


Man, you should've seen them kicking Edgar Allan Poe...

Happy Halloween -- Part I

Here is one of my small contributions to the literature of my favorite holiday.

From October of 2005:

Quoth the Hammer


Nevermore.

With all respect to Edgar Poe, who's work I love and admire without reserve...

Once upon a bender bleary, while I pondered, weak and beery,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,


With my nod on, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
(Actually more like a serious bitch-slapping),

...smacking at my chamber door.
”WTF," I mumbled, "I’m on vacation! Ask Dick; he runs the nation.
Get off my ass and let Karl do it," I loud and soddenly swore.

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak September,
And every fucktard, camp-following member had been given his sinecure.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
Chinese cash or some “Aw Shucks” Charisma from the the lost Gipp-er,.
For the Smilin’, Beguilin’ Monster who could sell our Republican Manure,
Dead and gone forevermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each voting booth curtain
Thrilled me---filled me electoral delirium tremens throughout all of 2004;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood bleating,
" 'Tis some Pioneer Contributor, or Halliburtoning Corporate whore
Or another dimwit frat rat trollop sporting a Santorum coiffure

...This it is, and nothing more."

The Stoli shooters grew stronger; and hesitating no longer,
"Dicky?" said I, "Condi? Or is that Turdblossom? I recognize the spoor...
But the fact is, I was drinkin’, getting good and stinkin’
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, snarling, sneering
Jerking off to Armageddon dreams no one ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken –- no Condi or other token --
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "2004?",
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word," 2004!"
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into my bottle turning, all the Jim Beam I’d guzzled burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is Rumsfled with a briefing.
That will disassemble that bitch Sheehan’s beefing.
Let my heart stop Cheneying a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis just old crazy Rummy, and nothing more."

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a hiss and splutter,
In there stepped a mangy Hammer, of the Mandate days of yore.
Not an ounce of sense made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with Death Skull grimance, perched above my chamber door.
Shat upon a bust of Nixon, just above my chamber door,
Shat, and sat, and nothing more.

This Sugarland turd was so badly freaking, into my pants I went leaking,
Shocked by the deranged and murderousness of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy Majorityhood be shorn and shave," I said, "you are still craven,
Ghastly, grim, and wretched Hammer, rampaging like a rabid boar.
What the fuck do I do now that my assassin's been shown the door?"
Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore."

Much I marveled as this insanely ranting Dale Gribble spoke so plainly,
Though it’s answer little meaning, little veracity bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Would not projectile hurl upon seeing this two-legged offal above his chamber door,
A Christopathic beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
That can’t say shit but "Nevermore."

But the Hammer, a skulking minor demon, spoke only of his venom
Hissing that one word, as if his soul were stabbed with skewers.
Nothing further then he uttered; his heart was tightly shuttered;
Til I scarcely more than muttered, "How can I enjoy this Dewars?
Who shall ram my mandate now, through Congress' sewers?"
To which DeLay said, "Nevermore."

Like the thousand promises I’d broken, his word was oily spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store."
Bred from drooling Texas losers, friend of low-wattage crooks and boozers
Partied fast and kneecapped faster, till his lies one burden bore ---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."

But the Hammer still berserking looked into my dank soul smirking,
So Karl broke it down for me in little words of two syllables, no more.
”Your polls are a’sinking, on ice your lies are stinking
Iraq and Katrina the public are finally a’linking, and now comes this loony Texas hoor -
This grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous Sugarland hoor
So guess what he means by "Nevermore"?”

And the media scrum grew denser, now fueled by a Grand Jury’s censure
Wrought by a righteous prosecutor who ain’t taking this shit no more.
"Wretch," I cried, "now it’s all for nothing. For nothing I cheated Albert Gore.
So get me three fingers of two-cents-plain that I may forget by apotheotic 2004!
Drink and drink and puke and drink and forget my apotheotic 2004!
Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore!"

"You For-Profit, agenda-killing jag off" said I, "Faith-based pimp of Abramoff!
By that Dobson that bends us over -- by that God we both abhor--
Is there in the cushions where we shine our asses, even one dime of my political assets?
A whiff of my miracle Mandate year, which Pope Gregor named 2004 ---
My moment on the Mountain, COBOL programmers call Y2K-plus-four?
Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore."

"Shut up you fucking loser!" I shrieked, upstarting --
"Go back to offing roaches you salad tossing, Albatrossing spore!
Leave no poo stripe as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my binginess unbroken! Leave me a political Debtor!
Take thy dick from out my mouth, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Hammer, "Nevermore."

But the Hammer, never quitting, still is sitting, still is shitting
Down the throat of my Dead Mandate, my ghost of 2004;
And his eyes still have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my Mandate from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!

Diamond Dogs

That Halloween Jack is a real cool cat 
And he lives on top of Manhattan Chase

Happy Halloween.

Halloween 2020

By 2020, America's new All Hallows Eve tradition will have citizens gathering in town squares around bonfires of Chinese-made junk to tell scary stories about the bad old days when a loose NeoConfederation of vampire bankers, Bible-clutching demons, sheet-wearing bigots and zombie politicians came thiiiiiis close to destroying the country.

"But didn't the people see the monsters coming?" the children will ask.

"Some did. Saw them coming clear as day from miles and miles away." the grownups will explain.

"Then why didn't they warn people about the monsters?" the children will ask.

"Some tried. Tried for years and years." the grownups will reply.

"Then why didn't the grownups stop them?"

"The monsters had lots of very, very rich friends who owned newspapers and radio stations and teevee networks. The friends of the monsters used their teevee and radio and newspapers to call everyone who disagreed with them a traitors."

"But once the monsters started to fuck everything up, why didn't they stop them them?" (Thanks to the Triumph of the Hippies, the word "fuck" had long since been welcomed into the public square.)

"The friends of the monsters used their teevee and radio and newspapers to tell the people that a better way to deal with the monsters would be to give them everything they wanted, and throw bags of money at them whenever they asked. They called it "Centrism"."

"Seems pretty fucking stupid."

"It was pretty fucking stupid, and after awhile all kinds of people from all over the place got sick and tired of the monsters fucking everything up, And they got really sick and tired of the monster's friends telling them to the only solution to every problem to keep giving the monsters everything they wanted, and keep throwing bags of money at them no matter what."

"And that's when the people made them stop?"

"Yes, that's when the people made them stop."

Then the children will hurry back home to dress up in the holiday's tradition horror costumes -- Fox News reporters, Wall Street bankers and New York Times op-ed columnists -- before scattering into the night to extort the traditional Flat Tax Cookies and candy-coated credit default swaps from the happy, unforclosed-upon homes of their friends and neighbors.

Until then, enjoy Edgar Allan Poe's "The Valley Of Unrest" as read by Elizabeth Ashley reading Lou Reed's "The Raven".

And have a happy and peaceful Halloween.

Your Friday Podcast

Special Halloween Undead Zombie Lee Atwater Edition.

Thanks again to Frank Chow for the graphic and Heather at Crooks and Liars Video Cafe for their help. And don't forget you can listen to our archives for free with no downloads at Professional Left.

"First of all, it was October, a rare month for boys."

-- Ray Bradbury

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Related links: The Esquire Balanced Budget Project.

Your Friday Podcast

"A cool drink of normal in a world where incoherent rage is the new black, and Art Robinson is the new Anna Wintour." -- Bizarro David Broder

"The future crown-jewel in my stabbin'-cabin media empire," -- Not Sam Zell

Alas! those good old days are gone, when a murderer could wipe the stain from his name and soothe his trouble to sleep simply by getting out his blocks and mortar and building an addition to a church.

-- Mark Twain

For those who want to hear any of our other +40 episodes for free and/or are inclined to drop a little dough into the chapeau, our whole catalog and the PayPal thingie are available here.

Thanks again to Frank Chow for the graphic and Heather at Crooks and Liars Video Cafe for their help.


Related links:

Susie Bright Costume Contest.

David Brooks goes to Church.

Rahm Emanuel on Twitter .

Christine O'Donnell and China.

Gene Cradick and the fire next time.

FDR and "Lend/Lease" (The arsenal of democracy vs the arsonists of democracy)


Atlas Shrugged: The Book of Revelations for Assholes.

And, of course, Happy Birthday Bro!

Malphas, a Mighty President of Hell

On this All Hallows Eve, as we citizens of Chicago begin another slow winter freeze, watch one season of local sports franchise implosion fade into another season of different sports franchise collapse, and find ourselves beset on all sides with fiscal disaster, failing schools and legendary municipal corruption, we cannot help but notice that -- election after landslide election, for an entire generation -- one man has presided over it all.

And we are moved to ask the perennial Halloween Question: "Is dis guy in league wit da fuckin' devil or what?"

Before you answer, consider this description Malphas -- a "grand president of Hell" -- from Johann Wier's "Pseudomonarchia Daemonum" (1583)

...he is seene like a Crowe, but being cloathed with humane image,

speaketh with a hoarse voice,

"If we quoted Mayor Daley correctly every time we dealt with him, he probably wouldn't be embarrassed, but some people would probably be embarrassed for him." -- George Langford, Chicago Tribune's public editor

be buildeth houses and high towres wonderfullie, and quicklie bringeth artificers togither,

Daley will be remembered as a "builder mayor" despite Chicago's failure to land the Olympics, Simpson said. He helped spearhead the popular downtown Millennium Park, the O'Hare International Airport expansion project and a redeveloped south Loop area of downtown Chicago.

he throweth downe also the enimies edifications,

...
In a controversial move on March 30, 2003, Mayor Daley ordered private crews to destroy the runway in the middle of the night, bulldozing large X-shaped gouges into the runway surface.[7] The required notice was not given to the Federal Aviation Administration or the owners of airplanes tied down at the field, and as a result sixteen planes were left stranded at an airport with no operating runway, and an incoming flight was diverted. The stranded aircraft were later allowed to depart from Meigs' 3,000 foot (914 m) taxiway.

Mayor Daley defended his actions, described as "appalling" by general aviation interest groups, by claiming it would save the City of Chicago the effort of further court battles before the airport could close. He claimed that safety concerns required the closure, due to the post-September 11 risk of terrorist-controlled aircraft attacking the downtown waterfront near Meigs Field.[9] In reality, closing the airport made the airspace less restrictive. When the airport was open, downtown Chicago was within Meigs Field's Class D airspace, requiring two-way radio communication with the tower. The buildings in downtown Chicago are now in Class E/G airspace, which allows any airplane to legally fly as close as 1,000 feet (300 m) from these buildings with no radio communication at all.[11]

Editorials in the Chicago Tribune pointed out that "the issue is Daley's increasingly authoritarian style that brooks no disagreements, legal challenges, negotiations, compromise or any of that messy give-and-take normally associated with democratic government."
...

he helpeth to good familiars,

Stroking Mayor Daley's big ego has become commonplace and I don't expect aldermen to have the guts to stand up to him anymore. He is the master puppeteer amongst 49 "yes" men and women, who would rather pimp the tax payers for debt in 2016, than to find more creative, fundraising efforts to bridge the Olympic cost overruns.

he receiveth sacrifices willinglie,

It has been nearly a year since he imposed tougher limits on who can contribute to his campaign, but Mayor Daley showed Wednesday he can still rake in the dough.

The mayor returned more than $128,000 in campaign contributions that violate his crackdown on money from donors with potential conflicts, but he still has nearly $5.7 million for the Feb. 27 election.

And Daley's campaign officials said this month is so loaded with fund-raising events, they are having trouble scheduling them all.

"We've just run out of dates right now," said Terry Peterson, his campaign manager.

Daley's war chest dwarfs those of his challengers, according to reports filed Wednesday. He started the year with ...

but he deceiveth all the sacrificers,

The Shadow Budget

...
On October 15, Mayor Richard M. Daley held a press conference to break some bad news: To erase a $500 million budget deficit for next year, he would probably have to eliminate jobs, cut services, and dip into reserve funds generated by leasing the Skyway and the parking meters.

But behind the scenes, the mayor and his chief aides were proposing to spend millions of taxpayer dollars on a rehab of Willis Tower, subsidies for privately run hospitals and Fortune 500 corporations, and pet neighborhood projects that won't be included in the official city budget.
...

and there obeie him fourtie legions.

Those same aldermen now see a measure of justice in the fact that the renegade organizations the mayor used to govern by fear are at the root of scandal. Chief among them is the Hispanic Democratic Organization, led by Victor Reyes, former director of the Mayor's Office of Intergovernmental Affairs.

"The single most important fear was this army of thugs that he had on the street. Come election time, all he had to do was snap his fingers, and 500 of them were in your ward kicking your ass," said an alderman who asked to remain anonymous.

"This political underworld shut out the traditional party structure. He created it. He ran wild with it, and now it's starting to devour him. These organizations are the single-biggest factor in the mayor's undoing."

Ald. Joe Moore (49th) agreed that there is not a "tremendous amount of sympathy" for Daley because of his dictatorial style and renegade political army. That explains why U.S. Rep. Rahm Emanuel (D-Ill.) has so far been the only prominent Democrat to stand up and publicly defend Daley.

"Whether it was by design or just willful ignorance, the mayor bears responsibility for the growth of these independent political organizations loyal only to the mayor and the fact that so many people in those organizations received city jobs in violation of the Shakman decree," Moore said.

Ald. Brian Doherty (41st), the Council's lone Republican, said he knows how bitter his Democratic colleagues are about the mayor's political army.

"HDO, the Coalition for a Better Government -- these organizations under his people's leadership -- they acted like rogues. They weren't answerable to anybody, so they basically did what they wanted to do," Doherty said.

Sure, on the one hand, this is a triple-dipped, superstition-frosted paranoid conspiracy trifle, dropped into your virtual Halloween sack since I can't personally lob a bag of genuine, witchcraft-infused seasonal candy

at every one of my fabulous readers.

But on the other hand, it is impossible not to notice that at the same moment newspapers are figuring out how to commit mass suicide with ever greater efficiency, and the working press is slowly starved out of existence, yakking up the right flavor of superstition-slathered paranoid conspiracy piffle

has become a golden ticket to media power, fame and wealth beyond the dreams of Avarice.