Since my list of Quick Hits column possibilities continues to grow by leaps and bounds, let’s tackle a few of those trending topics.
It’s a Festivus miracle!
Potius sero quam nunquam. — Livy
Within the realm of the plausible, it was the call I least expected to get right before Christmas, but the timing only made it that much more fun.
To be more specific, my social media friend Joy called to let me know me that her infamous neighbor, Kane County judge Susan Clancy-Boles, had made good on all of that tree damage without having to resort to a lawsuit.
If you recall from the previous series of columns, without saying a word, the Boles waited until Joy and her husband went on vacation and proceeded to, in the words of a Geneva Police officer, “butcher” her trees breaking at least three laws in the process. The judge’s response to a rather startled Joy’s return was that the trees were “blocking the sun from our backyard.”
Now, I could have a little more fun with the judge without the slightest bit of remorse, but that’s not the point. Journalism isn’t about beating public figures over the head because you can, it’s about encouraging those in power to do the right thing. Or in the brilliantly concise words of humorist Finley Peter Dunne, our singular intent is to “Comfort the afflicted, and afflict the comfortable.”
Much like the parable of the vineyard workers, the fact this more than reasonable settlement took some time to work its way out is immaterial. All that matters is Joy and her family have been made whole and everyone gets to move on.
Why did the judge decide to settle? Only she knows.
Perhaps her conscience finally caught up with her. Maybe a friend offered some timely constructive criticism. Could those Griffin, Williams, McMahon and Walsh attorneys have talked some sense into her? Or perhaps the prospect of losing her own county in that second district appellate court race forced her to step back and take stock.
Regardless of the reason, that old “All’s well that ends well” adage certainly applies here. Judge Boles did the right thing and we’ll leave it at that.
And speaking of the Griffin Williams law firm…
Never let them see you sweat. – 1985 Gillette ad campaign slogan
It’s not that we scurrilous opinion columnists will necessarily pile on when presented with the opportunity, but we’re certainly not above going mildly out of our way to have a little more fun with the situation.
Enter Griffin Williams partner Rick Williams, a more than reasonable attorney, and an even better human being, who deftly extracted yours truly from the county clerk’s office with the minimum amount of collateral damage more than a decade ago. Despite my plethora of issues with his friend, partner, and former KC state’s attorney, Joe McMahon, should anyone ask, I’d recommend Rick without reservation.
So, it was in that very vein that I reached out to Rick to get his take on how he fared so much better than the rest of the 2022 Kane County Republican herd of county board candidates. But despite my reputation for a jovial nature, capacity to make friends, and Mr. Congeniality standing, my electronic entreaties were met with a stone-cold silence.
The nerve!
Even a journalist with less than half-a-brain would surmise that my somewhat satirical sendoffs of his law firm were the impetus for this dastardly phone call rejection.
Much like a witness who doesn’t want to risk perjury, I’ll claim that I don’t recall saying any of this, but I may have previously made note of McMahon’s steep fall from prosecuting Jason Van Dyke down to representing a client in a silly neighborhood dispute. I may have added that, by taking on Judge Boles as a client, the Griffin Williams’ business model was a lot like Larry, Darryl, and Darryl’s “Anything for a Buck” sitcom enterprise.
Again, I can’t say for sure whether I said what I think I said, but it certainly sound like something I’d say.
But big flippin’ deal! Of all the people on this absurd planet, attorneys, who regularly go for the opposing counsel’s jugular, should understand that business is business and it ends the second you walk out of the courtroom – or away from the keyboard.
Because letting me know brief caricature of his partner and law firm struck a nerve, Rick essentially tried to put out a fire with gasoline. There’s good reason I tell people that 32 years of being subjected to my endearing presence is what fully prepared my wife for her second life as a middle school teacher.
And that “never let ‘em see you sweat” dynamic is particularly true when you’ve just become our newest county board member, who as a long-time local attorney, faces a boatload of political conflicts of interest.
So, you can bet your bottom dollar that I’ll be watching Mr. Williams’ nascent political career with great interest. It doesn’t happen very often, but it can be a lot of fun being me.
They can tell, but so what?
If, like me, you were listening to WXRT and/or watching a second tier streaming service like Pluto TV right before the holidays, then you’re well aware of the National Highway Traffic and Safety Administration’s “They can tell” ad campaign targeting folks who might consider driving under the influence of marijuana.
The commercials’ theme is, if your friends and family can tell you’re high, then law enforcement can, too, and you’ll rack up a quick DUI.
Considering the way most of you drive when you’re sober, I’d never recommend lighting up before heading out to the grocery store, but that doesn’t mean this ad campaign isn’t the purest form of abject bovine excrement.
The possibility that the police can “tell” that you were drunk or high means absolutely nothing in a court of law. It requires hard evidence for that charge to stick, and by “hard evidence” I mean that field sobriety tests aren’t nearly good enough. Various prosecutors told me that the vast majority of judges won’t settle for anything less than a specific THC blood or urine level count to hand down a DUI conviction.
Though it’s become par for the course, it really frosts my flakes whenever a taxpayer supported government agency lies through their teeth in another dubious ends justify the means effort for the supposed “greater good.” Of course, we want impaired drivers off the road, but this isn’t the way to go about it.
The fact “they can tell” doesn’t mean shit.
The populist chickens come home to roost!
In a quintessential case of gleeful schadenfreude, it is beyond amusing to watch Kevin McCarthy and his suddenly mainstream congressional Republican lackeys held hostage by the likes of pedophile Matt Gaetz, pedophile enabler Jim Jordan, and mental midgets like Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene.
McCarthy and his ilk created these monsters by ardently kissing the Grand Cheeto’s ample ass at every turn, and now that they have no use for him, like a really bad hair day they can’t do a thing with his minions. I’m sure you’re getting a little tired of hearing me say “hoist by their own petard,” but sometimes it’s the only phrase that works.
Better yet, his failure to be approved on the first (or even the sixth) ballot is an epic debacle that’s occurred only once in the last 100 years. The interparty rancor has gotten so back that, unless McCarthy starts bumping off his MAGA peers – something I wouldn’t put past someone who supports open insurrection – he will never wield the gavel.
And this fascinating civil war comes at a time when former speaker Newt Gingrich just warned his party that, “Republicans must learn to quit underestimating this President. Conservatives’ hostility to the Biden administration on our terms blinds us to just how effective Biden has been.”
I’m not saying the Democrats aren’t capable of yet another “hold my beer” moment. C’mon! They’re the same folks who came up with that “birthing people” insanity. But at least for now, the GOP is taking a firm lead in the self-inflicted wounds department and it’s a lot of fun to simply sit back and watch it all unfold.
