Here’s what I want to know. Why does God love the governor so much more than me – or you for that matter? Despite all those St. Nick’s priestly declarations, the Big Guy clearly does play favorites.
And you have to ask yourself, “Why Pat Quinn?” He’s not a bad guy, but he’s certainly nothing special. He can’t lead, he’s not that bright, and he has all the charisma of Peter Francis Geraci.
With no other possibility to consider, I thought perhaps God developed a penchant for bald white middle-aged males, but if that’s the case I’d be doing a hell of a lot better.
You have to admit, like a modern day Moses, the political Red Sea continually parts for this man in a manner that never ceases to astound or confound. I’m convinced if you crack open the Miriam-Webster towards the end of the L’s, you’ll find the governors portrait directly adjacent to the word “luck.”
Think about it!
The only reason he managed to make it to that mansion is because Rod Blagojevich flippantly dismissed his father-in-law’s first machine commandment by insisting on saying certain things out loud. I’m pretty sure Pat was just as surprised as we were to see him take the oath of office.
Then, staring straight down the gullet of a massive anti-Democratic 2010 midterm backlash, the Guv actually raised taxes – by 66 percent! – and every last political oddsmaker put his chances somewhere between slim and none.
But Quinn won that race because fate stepped in and handed him the only GOP opponent he could actually beat – Sen. Bill Brady.
Instead of nominating Kirk Dillard or Dan Rutherford – who would’ve cleaned Quinn’s clock – Republican voters fell for the “conservative” candidate who coquettishly batted his eyelashes at them the most. But Brady went down in flames because he didn’t work hard enough and, unless your opponent gets photographed on his front lawn fuckin’ a goat, the “I’m not the other guy” strategy doesn’t work!
So we got four more years of Pat and as that jackass Dr. Phil likes to say, “How’s that working out for ya?”
With nothing better to do, we’ve been sitting on our hands, holding our breath, and hoping, like in that Buffy series finale, the entire state didn’t get sucked into the ground before we could elect someone else.
But no! Once again God seems to have gubernatorial aspirations for our propitious Pat.
And those plans began to unfold with the 2014 primaries. Instead of coming to some sort of compromise, the Three Stooges decided to run again and, with Messrs. Brady, Dillard and Rutherford splitting the vote, Bruce Rauner lustfully limped into the winner’s circle.
Then, to prove that God must have a great sense of humor, the Rauner campaign knocked Rutherford out of contention. Had they not pulled that off, not only would Rutherford have dispensed with Bruce, but he would’ve crushed Quinn too.
So once again, with four separate options, Illinois Republican voters nominated one of the two candidates who couldn’t beat the Governor on his best day.
But God wasn’t through yet! Oh no! To seal his anointed’s anointment, with the polls neck and neck, He made sure the GTCR – Tans Healthcare nursing home sale trial started this week.
And those proceedings opened with a videotaped deposition depicting disheveled and disoriented wheelchair-bound graphic artist, Barry Saacks, who disavowed any knowledge of the nursing home company he ostensibly owned. As far as he knew, he said, he may have purchased a computer company from a GTCR partner at the time.
Then GTCR attorneys, with straight faces, argued that this couldn’t be a sham sale secured solely for the purpose of avoiding liability because the investment company had no idea they’d face a billion dollars in wrongful death lawsuits.
It doesn’t take a genius to imagine just how the Quinn campaign will turn that taped testimony into a devastating television ad. And this federal bankruptcy trial is only getting started with the Tribune covering it every bleepin’ step of the way.
So God! Why don’t you love me nearly as much as you love Pat Quinn? What have I done right? I can be incompetent. I can run a state into the ground. I can come up with silly non-sequiturs like Squeezy the Python. Have you read my columns? And I’m just as bald as he is – maybe even more.
All I can say is, it’s probably not a good idea to stand anywhere near Bruce Rauner in a thunderstorm and it really is better to be lucky than smart.