Happy birthday Wrigley Field.

In this post: Dead blondes, Wrigley Field.

It’s a dismal, drizzly Saturday afternoon at Howdygram headquarters and Sam’s asleep in the family room watching Forbidden Planet (1956) starring Walter Pidgeon, Anne Francis, Leslie Nielsen and Robby the Robot.

I’m a retired senior citizen with an inquiring mind and way too much time on my hands.

In this post: New features, great TV, weenie jackets.

Hey. Has anybody noticed a couple of exciting new Howdygram features in our right sidebar? For instance: 1) TRENDING NOW offers our top five most-read posts during the last seven days; and 2) FAVORITE READS is a list of my preferred topical blogs and news websites. I read nearly all of these on a daily basis because I’m a retired senior citizen with an inquiring mind and way too much time on my hands. Thank you.

I’m turning into my father, rest his soul.

In this post: A Vienna sausage retrospective, remembering Mr. Cub.

Considering that Monday started off crappy around here (see previous post) I’ve got some damn good news to share with you. I just got an email from Dollar Tree that my Armour Vienna sausages are ready for pickup! On January 29 I ordered a case of 48 cans online — a steal at only $24 — and when you choose delivery to your local store SHIPPING IS FREE. So tomorrow Sam gets to drive over to Dollar Tree and bring home a trunkload of TEENY CANS OF VIENNA SAUSAGE IN MYSTERY LIQUID! The following map indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) the Dollar Tree retail store on Town East Boulevard; C) our closest Lowe’s supercenter, where Sam buys light bulbs, hose nozzles and hammers; and D) my favorite Long John Silver’s. I love their cole slaw.

Marshall Field’s was the best damn department store God ever created.

In this post: Remembering Frango Mints.

Know what? FedEx will deliver my sugar-free Russell Stover chocolates ANY MINUTE NOW, and I can hardly wait! This time I included two bags of their French Mints because I’m hoping they’ll remind me of the unforgettable Frangos I used to buy at Marshall Field’s — THE BEST DAMN DEPARTMENT STORE GOD EVER CREATED — a million years ago when I lived in Chicago. (I still dream about Frango Mints. Also Italian beef sandwiches.)

Meet the Jacksons: Chicago’s latest crop of creeps, crooks and cronies.

While I sit here recovering from a middle-of-the-night low blood sugar incident, for which I’m consuming a Marcytini, a low-carb chocolate bar and a stack of American cheese singles, I thought I’d work on a post about Chicago’s latest crop of creepy criminal politicians. This time it’s the Jackson clan: 1) Jesse Junior; 2) Jesse Junior’s main squeeze; and 3) Jesse’s Junior’s daddy. Let’s begin with a quick review of their offenses, shall we?

Jesse Junior, who resigned his seat in Congress shortly before the end of last year following a six-month absence for “emotional problems,” has just confessed to embezzling $750,000 of his own campaign funds to purchase (among other things) mink capes, a $45,000 Rollex watch, Michael Jackson memorabilia, Bruce Lee memorabilia, Jimi Hendrix memorabilia, Martin Luther King memorabilia, an Eddie Van Halen guitar, a commemorative football and a cashmere hat. You know, all the necessities for the good life in Congress. He also paid his wife’s consulting firm half a million dollars.

Junior had been under investigation by the FBI since attempting to bribe Illinois’ disgraced former governor Rod Blagojevich for the Senate seat vacated by President Obama. Blagojevich is currently serving a 14-year prison sentence for racketeering.

Junior’s wife, Sandi, isn’t a whole lot better. She resigned from Chicago’s city council in mid-January after five years as an absentee alderman, during which she collected a full-time salary while missing nearly half the council’s votes and 91% of her committee meetings because — here’s a shocker — she was actually living in Washington, D.C. with Junior and the kids. Following an FBI investigation Sandi confessed to tax fraud yesterday relative to her husband’s embezzlement issues.

Big Daddy (Jesse Senior) wasn’t under investigation and didn’t confess to any crimes, but I feel compelled to include him here. Doesn’t it ever bother people that he has no job — or any other visible means of support — but keeps turning up uninvited at every major event in the United States wearing $2,500 suits? I’m just saying.

I think I’ll go back to bed for a while. Turn off the lights when you’re done, okay?

The perfect cure for just about anything: deep-dish pizza porn from Chicago.

All’s not well at Howdygram headquarters tonight and I didn’t really plan to write a post. I’ve had a lousy headache since early afternoon and so far the usual remedies haven’t helped, including arthritis-strength acetaminophen, looking at pizza porn online, two short naps and pudding. All that’s left in my arsenal now is a hot shower or blowing my brains out. In the meantime, a fine example of pizza porn appears below for your possible interest. This is a 10-pound deep-dish marvel from Lou Malnati’s in suburban Chicago, and it’s even better than the iconic pizza at Gino’s East. (In certain circles I could be assassinated for that comment, but what the hell.) Please see the teeny photo of Malnati’s original location in Lincolnwood (inset).

This was my #1 favorite restaurant when I lived in Chicago. If Lou Malnati’s ever decides to open in Texas I’d probably have to move next door.

Time for that hot shower now. It was nice of you to drop in tonight.

Tasteless relish and gentile pickles. Next time I’ll try the Italian beef.

Last Sunday I wrote about our ongoing quest for a genuine Chicago-style hot dog — or at least what might be considered a reasonable facsimile — anywhere the Dallas metro area. Our options, to put it mildly, have been slim. According to a number of local food bloggers and critics the best Chicago-style hot dogs can be purchased at Five Guys, The Dog Stop and Wild About Harry’s, although the latter is located on Knox Street in a snooty and ridiculous congested neighborhood that’s not worth the trouble. We tried the hot dogs at Five Guys last weekend (see post).

So, a couple of hours ago Sam and I drove to The Dog Spot, a teeny little drive-up hut in north Dallas (see above), and bought ourselves four Chicago-style hot dogs that we shlepped back to Mesquite for dinner. They looked picture-perfect but were otherwise underwhelming as the dogs had no “snap” and definitely weren’t Kosher, they forgot to use celery salt, the relish was tasteless and the pickle spear was disappointingly gentile. On a scale from 1 to 10, these were maybe a 5. (Even Five Guys’ was better.) Next I’ll try the Italian beef.

As long as I’m reminiscing about food from Chicago this might be an excellent opportunity to mention Barnaby’s, a north suburban restaurant that first opened in 1969 during my last year of high school and became a favorite hangout for my crowd of friends. Barnaby’s is still in business — which I didn’t realize until a few minutes ago — and still winning pizza awards. Inside it looked like an English pub with hardwood booths, huge iron chandeliers and stained glass portraits of wenches and medieval dudes. In addition to pizza and sandwiches you could also get big pitchers of really good root beer. I’m actually hungry enough to drive to Chicago RIGHT NOW except there’s a thunderstorm moving in and Sam is outside on the patio enjoying the light show.

Doing anything fun tonight? As soon as it starts to rain (any minute now) and Sam comes back inside we’re planning to watch Support Your Local Sheriff with James Garner and Jack Elam, as illustrated by the photo below. (Bruce Dern is the bearded character in the window.) Support Your Local Sheriff is one of the funniest western parodies EVER and well worth watching if you’ve never seen it. Afterwards Sam and I have a few more Three Stooges episodes to see because we’re connoisseurs of highbrow comedy and dialog. (Please get that expression off your face.)

I think I’ll scrounge around for something to eat — maybe gefilte fish! — and bake a batch of Pillsbury sugar-free brownies if I can remember where I put the last box. Thank you for reading this and say hi to the family for me, okay?

Late-evening fun: an insulin injection, a handful of pills and “Hardcore Pawn” reruns.

Breaking news tonight from Howdygramland ... Blue Mesa was no big thrill this morning and it kills me to write this review. We used Sam’s free birthday brunch certificate and it’s apparent that the restaurant is falling on hard times. This conclusion is based on the following facts: 1) there were a lot fewer choices than usual on the buffet and no beef fajitas; 2) the adobe pies were cold; 3) the dining room was only one-third full; 4) nobody was waiting in line to be seated when we left at 11 a.m. (it’s usually packed to the rafters by then); and 5) our server quietly mentioned to Sam that “business has been really slow” and his coworkers are being laid off. Sad but true. If we ever decide to go back for brunch we’ll probably try a different location. There are five in the Dallas area.

In other news, Lieutenant Commander Quinton McHale died today at the age of 95. McHale is survived by Ensign Chuck Parker (see inset); Captain Binghamton passed away in 1974 when he drowned in a swimming pool in Beverly Hills.

Many of you may know that I grew up in Chicago, and my fondest childhood memories include going to the beach, riding the roller coasters with my dad at Riverview Park and eating hot dogs. The latter, incidentally, is not just a sandwich. In Chicago, the hot dog is an ART FORM. The perfect Chicago hot dog has to be Vienna Kosher on a Rosen’s poppy seed bun with the following MANDATORY INGREDIENTS: 1) mustard; 2) neon green relish; 3) chopped onions; 4) one pickle spear; 5) tomato wedges; 6) hot Italian sport peppers; and 7) a shpritz of celery salt. My favorite hot dog stands were Hot Dog Island in Evanston at the corner of Central and Crawford and Wolfy’s on Peterson Avenue in Chicago.

I was carrying on like this about hot dogs with so much passion this afternoon that Sam finally said, “Can’t we get these damn things in Dallas?” which, of course, is enough to make a person from Chicago laugh out loud. You can’t really get a genuine Chicago hot dog anywhere except in Chicago, but according to Yelp there are a few local reasonable facsimiles, including Five Guys (they use Hebrew National instead of Vienna) and a little drive-through in far north Dallas called The Dog Stop that’s closed on Sundays. Unfortunately, I doubt that either of them includes the top three key Chicago style hot dog ingredients (items 2, 6 and 7 from the previous paragraph).

Sam picked up hot dogs from Five Guys for dinner tonight. On a scale from 1 to 10, with 10 being Hot Dog Island, Five Guys’ hot dogs were maybe a 6¾. Next weekend we’ll drive up to north Dallas and try The Dog Stop. Stay tuned for an official review.

And now it’s time for some late-evening fun, which includes an insulin injection, a handful of pills and a couple of “Hardcore Pawn” reruns. Thank you for reading this.

Introducing Chicago’s preferred prostitution payment plan, with or without fries.

Get ready to rumble, Howdygramsters, because I’ve got a pile of fabulous crap for you! For starters, you may recall an earlier post in which I charged that Charo lies about her age. She may want the world to think she’s 61 years old, but the Howdygram can promise you she’s NOT. I hunted around online for the real scoop — which was a no-brainer — and found that: 1) official documents in Spain and the U.S. indicate Charo was born in 1941, not 1951; 2) press reports gave her age as 20 in the early 1960s when she became engaged to Xavier Cugat; and 3) she was 36 when she divorced him in 1977. If you do the math, she was clearly born in 1941 but petitioned the courts to shave off 10 years when she applied for citizenship in the 1970s. Also see her biography on Wikipedia. (Just between us, I don’t really know why I’m so damn happy about this.)

Breaking news from the city of Forth Worth, where the MedStar ambulance service has introduced a new program that will send you a taxi cab if the Einstein 911 operator decides your call doesn’t require a paramedic. Holy crap. Fort Worth’s unsuspecting cab drivers are definitely in for a surprise when they start picking up fares in labor or various stages of cardiac arrest. I’m just saying.

Please bear with me while I show off a few new fonts, okay? Fonts have been my #1 addiction since I bought my first Mac in 1986 and I even love them more than Loma Linda fake meat in a can and old movies.

I recently discovered Lost Type, a terrific website that gives away very high quality fonts. Actually, they ask for a donation but you can download fonts for free if you type “$0” in the little box. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve never donated a dime. (Okay, I’m not really embarrassed.)

From our Do You Want Fries With That department, here’s a hot story from the Windy City. Police in Chicago have arrested a pimp named DaJuan Brown, currently being held in lieu of $1 million bond, who pays his prostitutes — all very young girls — with drugs, cell phones and food from the dollar menu at McDonald’s. He would also beat the girls regularly and withhold hamburgers as punishment. The advertising departments at Burger King and Arby’s are probably working overtime trying to figure out an advantage ... but don’t hold your breath.

I was flipping channels yesterday and ran across a painfully horrible movie on TCM. I refer to Spy Chasers, a disastrous 1955 whodunit starring Leo Gorcey and Huntz Hall — both 40+ years old — still pretending to be the “Dead End Kids” from the 1930s. Worse yet, they’re hunting German spies 10 years after the end of World War II. This was so thoroughly lousy I had to turn off the TV. And I almost NEVER turn off the TV.

And finally, a movie recommendation! Sam and I both enjoyed Ace of Aces (1932) with Richard Dix, Elizabeth Allan and Ralph Bellamy. This is a well-done story about the morality of war despite the fact that Dix is a former silent film star who’s frequently a little too “hammy” with the facial expressions. (You know, a male version of Norma Shearer.)

So here’s the basic plot. It’s 1918 and Dix is a pacifist sculptor who gets pushed into enlisting by his girlfriend (Elizabeth Allan) who thinks he’s a coward. Now stationed in France, the air force turns Dix into a bloodthirsty flying ace with no conscience or remorse until — SPOILER ALERT — he’s eventually responsible for the death of an enemy cadet he actually knew. Ralph Bellamy plays Dix’s cranky superior officer and there are lots of dogfight scenes with miniature airplanes, sweaty pilots, stupid helmets and fake bullets. My only complaint would be Elizabeth Allan’s 1930s hair and wardrobe, which made her look like she got dropped off in the middle of World War I by a time machine. If you can get beyond that, Ace of Aces is a winner.

Thank you for reading this.

Thanks to Takeru Kobayashi, I don’t think I want a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner.

It’s me again, boys and girls, with some GOOD NEWS. Apparently my new client is delirious with joy over the website I designed for his bakery in South Carolina. He’s been sending nonstop “OMG! I LOVE THIS!” emails since early afternoon, apparently a clear indication that I figured out what he wanted. Therefore I thought I’d post a scaled-down version of his website design for your possible interest. We’ll start adding page content tomorrow, and as soon as the site is published I’ll post a link. Everybody please stay tuned.

Further to my previous post I’ve discovered even more photos of teeny food to share with you, all created by Einstein food artist Jessica Hlavac. I think I’m most impressed with the teeny pot stickers and the teeny pancakes. Smaller than a BLUEBERRY? Seriously?

For some reason all this teeny crap makes me want to play with Barbie dolls again ... but ONLY if I could find one exactly like my first in 1962. Mine looked like the Barbie pictured at right except with platinum blonde hair and hot pink lipstick. I got her when I was in fourth grade and played Barbie after school at Sandy Fineberg’s house. Sandy and I also ate a lot of Maurice Lenell cookies, which basically sucked except for Almonettes, the one variety that didn’t taste like corrugated cardboard. For the record, Maurice Lenell cookies were manufactured and distributed only in Chicago. (I can’t believe they’re still in business.)

In case you’re wondering, I didn’t especially like playing Barbie at home with my little sister because she was always hiding Barbie’s shoes in empty JuJuBe boxes.

And finally, let’s all shout out a rousing “MAZEL TOV” to Takeru Kobayashi, who ate 13 grilled sandwiches in 60 seconds yesterday at the South by Southwest Interactive Conference in Austin, Texas. Yes, that’s a new world’s record. I watched the video of this event (until my stomach turned) and the crazy dude actually SWALLOWED ALL 13 SANDWICHES WHOLE. Kobayashi is also well-known for gorging himself with Nathan’s hotdogs and was the undefeated champion — 53½ hotdogs in 10 minutes — for six consecutive years. Holy crap.

It’s almost 8 p.m. and I haven’t given much thought to dinner yet. Since I’m both extremely hungry and extremely lazy I’ll probably just grab a can of Loma Linda fake meat and throw a party for one in front of the TV. I’ve got a nice assortment of Clifton Webb movies recorded — Sitting Pretty, The Razor’s Edge and Stars and Stripes Forever — plus today’s episode of “People’s Court.” I love my life. Thank you for reading this.

Lou Malnati’s sausage pizza is the present of a lifetime.

It’s cold again in north Texas today. The high will only hit 46° but we’re expecting a ton of rain tonight and much warmer temperatures — 70° on Wednesday — for the rest of the week. We’ve dodged a bullet here with winter weather because it’s practically spring.

The Howdygram strongly recommends tuning in to CBS today for round four of the PGA Pro-Am Golf Tournament at Pebble Beach because Tiger Woods — go Tiger! — is charging towards a first place finish. I don’t know why I still get excited about this dude except that he’s amazing to watch when he’s playing well … and lately he’s been playing VERY well. I might make a matzo soufflé for lunch in case you want to drop in and watch golf with us. An advance email would be nice so I can make enough.

Another TV recommendation for Sunday would be tonight’s Grammy Awards, but ONLY because the Beach Boys, Bruce Springsteen, Tony Bennett and Paul McCartney are supposed to perform in a salute to senior citizens who can still walk unassisted and carry a tune. The rest of the program doesn’t interest me whatsoever because I don’t know any of the other musicians, I’ve never listened to their music and I and don’t care if they win, lose or show up drunk. I don’t even care about the last-minute tribute to Whitney Houston (she died yesterday) because the music industry loves to deify its deceased drug addicts FOREVER and I’m positive this is just the first of many pointless and sappy hoo-hahs yet to come. On the other hand, maybe they’ll finally shut up about Michael Jackson and Amy Winehouse now.

Glorioski and holy crap, last night I discovered Taste of Chicago … a website that ships food from Chicago’s most iconic restaurants ANYWHERE IN THE UNITED STATES. This includes Lou Malnati’s deep dish pizza, Vienna Chicago-style hotdogs, Portillo’s Italian beef, Manny’s Delicatessen, Carson’s Ribs and Eli’s cheesecake! I’m practically hysterical right now and keep revisiting the website to stare at the pictures (see below).

If anybody ever wants to buy me the present of a lifetime — seriously — it would be Lou Malnati’s sausage pizza because I haven’t had one for at least 30 years. Thank you in advance for your overwhelming generosity. I have my own napkins.

Scary cosmic monsters and other happy childhood memories.

I recently told Sam a couple of stories from when I was a kid and he thought both would make excellent material for the Howdygram. So here they are. I won’t mind if you’re not interested, but maybe you can pretend just for the hell of it.

Story number one concerns First Man Into Space, a 1959 movie about the very first astronaut coming back to earth that scared the living crap out of me when I was eight years old. I remember running from the Skokie Theater screaming and then having ongoing nightmares about this crusted, disfigured monster for MONTHS — actually, YEARS — afterwards. The worst part was his one huge oozy eyeball and his huge cockeyed teeth, apparently the result of radioactive cosmic dust.

Looking at these pictures now it all seems really lame, but trust me, that monster was too much for my brain to process at eight years old. And his eyeball was just HORRIBLE.

I’m also pleased to include a photo of the aforementioned Skokie Theater (circa 1962), which was really teeny with one screen, very good popcorn and a 10¢ soft drink machine that dispensed syrup and carbonated water into a paper cup in separate streams with a clump of crushed ice at the end. This was fabulous and my favorite flavor was Green River.

And now for my television debut, which is story number two. “Lunchtime Little Theater” was a Chicago children’s TV show in the mid-1950s starring Uncle Ned, Uncle Bucky and Aunt Jeannie. (I wouldn’t joke about this.) In 1956 mom got tickets for my sister and me to be in the audience ... I was five, Robin was three. Three years old probably pushed the envelope a little, because Robin had a shrieking fit when they seated her with me in the peanut gallery so she got exiled to sit in back with all the mothers. And although I have almost zero recollection of “Lunchtime Little Theater” that day, I remember walking up and down the sidewalk in front of our house when I got home — still wearing my party dress — because I was positive everybody would recognize me. Oh my God, isn’t that the cute little girl we just saw on TELEVISION?

Trust me. “Lunchtime Little Theater” did NOT launch my career and thank you for reading this.

Stuffed cabbage, guessing games and another stock market hoo-hah.

Investors are probably excited as hell to know the Dow vaulted back up above 12,000 yesterday. I don’t really understand why this happened except apparently it has something to do with central banks all over the world “freeing up credit.” I’d suggest a giant Howdygram cheer but the market could crap out again 24 hours from now and make us all look like a bunch of grinning idiots ... so never mind.

Great news for clogged arteries. Lipitor, the hugely popular cholesterol-lowering drug, lost its patent Wednesday, paving the way for cheaper generic versions. I think we should celebrate with a large cheese pizza.

Before I forget ... I know you’re all waiting for this in-depth recap of yesterday’s junket to Costco! In addition to everything on our list we also bought a container of KOSHER SWEET & SOUR HUNGARIAN STUFFED CABBAGE, gigantic stuffed shrimpy/cheesy portobello mushrooms, a tub of Sam’s favorite Italian pasta salad, a 25-pound sack (I might be kidding) of Hoody’s peanuts in the shell, “chicken firecrackers” (chicken/poblano pepper appetizer thingies), the world’s largest box of frozen mozzarella sticks, sliced rotisserie chicken for sandwiches, two loaves of bread, two huge bottles of barbecue sauce and fresh chipotle chicken burritos.

Hungarian stuffed cabbage, which posed for the photo you see here, is my #1 favorite entree in the whole world, and — brace yourself — IT’S EVEN BETTER THAN MONGOLIAN CHICKEN. (Regular Howdygram readers will grasp the gravity of that statement.) Those “chicken firecrackers” are pretty damn good, too.

Holy crap, all of a sudden I’m STARVING. There’s no more stuffed cabbage in the fridge so I’ll move on to Plan B ... sugar-free chocolate-covered marshmallows. 

In case you’ve got some free time on your hands please study the photo below and try to guess who this laughing 13-year-old boy is. You can either send me an email or post a comment below. There might be a prize for the winner. (I’ll post the results tomorrow so be sure to come back.)

Yesterday was my mom’s 89th birthday. Happy birthday, mom! To commemorate this milestone event I thought I’d post a photo of the house where I spent the first five years of my life ... 6628 Newgard on the north side of Chicago. The building is actually a “two-flat.” We lived on the second floor; my grandparents owned the property and lived downstairs. I used to ride my tricycle back and forth on that sidewalk.

Incidentally, if the picture looks a little grim I should probably mention this was a screen capture from Google maps. (The fact that the house is more than 100 years old might have something to do with it, too.)

I need marshmallows now. Thanks for stopping by.

Thank you for putting up with this.

Let’s take a trip back in time to the early 1950s when yours truly was an impressionable little kid watching some mighty strange — but absolutely unforgettable — children’s programming on local television in Chicago.

My favorite show by far was “Garfield Goose and Friends” hosted by Frazier Thomas. The aforementioned goose was king of the United States, Frazier was his prime minister, and a variety of odd puppet pals rounded out the cast. Shown below from left to right are Beauregard Burnside III, Christmas Goose (Garfield’s nephew), Romberg Rabbit, Garfield and Macintosh Mouse. For the record, none of these critters made any sound whatsoever and Frazier Thomas had to “translate” everything they said.

After a quick search on YouTube I found video clips of the two best holiday cartoons from this show, a couple of really goofy Christmas favorites that my sister and I went nuts for ... “Here Comes Suzy Snowflake” and “Hardrock, Coco and Joe.” For the record, when I watched the “Suzy Snowflake” video last night for the first time in about 55 years I actually remembered every single word. (Sam said it was a little frightening.)





Another favorite and thoroughly weird children’s program was “Susan’s Show” starring a young teen named Susan Heinkel who used to fly to Wonderville on a magic kitchen stool (my mother had one exactly like it) and sing songs with a talking table named Mr. Pegasus. It’s entirely possible that the creators of this series used drugs. Judge for yourself from the video clip below. I adored this show.

All of a sudden I’ve got a huge craving for Twinkies. Thank you for reading this.

The men and women of Crook County, Illinois.

I love blogging. You have no idea how liberating it is to sit in front of the computer day or night and publish any damn thing you want. With pictures! When I first started the Howdygram I was positive only a handful of people would ever stop by to read this baloney, but eventually my visitor statistics proved me wrong. Now I’ve got regular readers all across the United States, every corner of the globe (Tasmania, Argentina, Germany, Great Britain, Canada, Pakistan and Malta), the Pentagon and even the Department of Justice.

Smooches to you all, whoever you are!

And now for tonight’s post about the Einsteins of Crook County, Illinois. I’ve written about this corrupt crew of Chicagoans before (see post), but it’s time for an update because former Crook County Board President Todd Stroger, who lost his bid for re-election last year by finishing dead last out of four candidates, is attempting to apply for unemployment benefits.

Pictured above: A) Todd Stroger; B) Deborah Dunning, Stroger’s cousin and the county’s former chief financial officer; C) Tony Cole, a busboy at Stroger’s favorite steak house; and D) Carla Oglesby, who was Stroger’s campaign publicist and deputy chief of staff.

Todd Stroger. The king of corruption and proponent of the Crook County Friends and Family Hiring Plan applied on February 7 for unemployment benefits for the $170,000 he was paid annually in his position as County Board President. This, of course, only represents Stroger’s BASE salary and does not include any additional funds acquired through graft, kickbacks and bribes. His request for unemployment has been denied because elected officials are ineligible.

Deborah Dunning. Crook County’s former chief financial officer was responsible for hiring Tony Cole, a busboy at Stroger’s favorite steak house, and offering him an administrative position on her staff that paid $60,000 per year. Dunning chose to ignore Cole’s substantial criminal background, which included arrests and convictions for assault, writing bad checks and a rape case that ended his basketball career at the University of Georgia. During Cole’s first few weeks on the county payroll he was arrested TWICE for domestic battery and violating an order of protection, for which Dunning bailed him out of jail, arranged for him to be paid for the days he was incarcerated and then approved a $3,000 salary increase. Cole and Dunning were both fired after the Chicago Sun-Times reported the story.

Carla Oglesby. Stroger’s former campaign manager and deputy chief of staff is currently out on bail and awaiting trial for wasting more than $180,000 of the county’s money on lucrative and thoroughly bogus contracts for her friends and business associates, including a contract to her own public relations agency for a phony “composting awareness program” and $25,000 to a pair of hip-hop artists for “census outreach.” All of this activity occurred during Oglesby’s first two months on the job. She was fired last spring. Her request for unemployment benefits was denied, too.

As far as I’m concerned, all of these Einsteins deserve adjoining cells at the penitentiary in Joliet. Thank you for reading this.

Charity begins at home.

There’s definitely an “oy” in Illinois. The Howdygram would like to send its condolences to the unfortunate residents of Illinois, whose legislature just voted for a 67% increase in the state’s flat-rate income tax ... EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.

Illinois has been completely broke for several years. Now Illinois TAXPAYERS will all be completely broke, too. And if that’s not bad enough, parking meters in Chicago have been increased to $5 an hour and the city’s sales tax is 10¼%. Frankly, I don’t know why anybody still lives there. It certainly can’t be for the terrific weather and low crime rate. (Maybe it’s for the great restaurants. Except now nobody can afford to go out.)

Australia redefines “down under.” For those of you with an interest in this continuing disaster of Biblical proportions, I thought I’d post a few of the latest flood photos from Brisbane, Australia.

In my post yesterday I introduced NOSE PLUGS FOR AUSTRALIA, the Howdygram’s brand new charity drive. Here’s what I’m proposing. If every Howdygram reader (including YOU) will send me just $250, I’ll buy some nice nose plugs online and fly to Canberra with Sam to deliver them in person to the Australian government. Your donation also will cover our organization’s administrative fees, entertainment expenses and assorted essential travel expenditures like new outfits for the trip, comfortable shoes, buying postcards, a bus tour of Sydney and an upgrade to first class on Qantas Airlines for both of us because Sam is way too tall for coach. Click here to make your donation now. Sam and I thank you in advance for your overwhelming generosity. G’day, mate.

Meet the Windy City sleazebags.

Many of you probably know that I grew up in Chicago. Even though I moved away 23 years ago I still love to follow their local news, exposés and scandals because nobody does sleaze quite like the Windy City. Although a lot of this stuff may seem funny from a distance, I’d be a nervous wreck if I still lived in Chicago and my tax dollars were funding any of this corruption.

The latest hoo-hah involves Cook County Board President Todd Stroger, a short-timer/lame duck since losing the February primary. With less than six months left to serve, Stroger has been on a spending spree ... adding aides and assistants (most with six-figure salaries) to his staff despite a county-wide hiring freeze. One new hire was Carla Oglesby as Stroger’s deputy chief of staff at $120,000 a year. Oglesby is highly qualified for a job in county government based on prior experience as a promoter for hip-hop artists.

Immediately after joining Stroger’s staff she weasled 11 lucrative contracts for friends and former co-workers, each in an amount just under $25,000 — the level at which County Board approval is required. One contract for $24,995 went to her own public relations agency. Others were deals for ridiculous projects that were never completed, including $24,995 to a professional basketball promoter for a “composting awareness program” and $24,995 to Wallace “Gator” Bradley, who refers to himself as an “urban translator.”

But the latest fraud is Carla Oglesby’s $150,000 expenditure to various local bogus companies for “census outreach contracts.” The deals were all awarded to cronies recommended by Oglesby and Eugene Mullins, one of Stroger’s boyhood friends. Two of the census contracts were given to the Chicago rap duo Dude ’N Nem, best known for their single “We Are Going to McDonald’s.” (Stop laughing.) A website for one of Oglesby’s other recommended companies asks job applicants for their modeling experience, measurements and four photographs. The contact for another takes you to nearly-nude photos on a MySpace page.

I need to know why these gangsters are not in jail. I mean, I watch “Cops” all the time and see people getting chased and tackled and arrested on $200 warrants when they forget to pay a TRAFFIC TICKET. How can crooks like Todd Stroger and Carla Oglesby steal from taxpayers and get away with it? THE PEOPLE OF ILLINOIS NEED ANSWERS. Thank you. I’m going to bed now.

Poetic justice and a sleet-free Friday.

Crime and punishment. The big news today hails from Chicago, my home town, where a federal appeals court overturned a recent probation sentence given to former Alderman Edward “Fast Eddie” Vrdolyak by U.S. District Judge Milton Shadur. Shadur had sentenced Vrdolyak to five years of probation after getting caught and pleading guilty to a $1.5 million kickback scheme from a rigged city college real estate deal. The federal government is demanding a sentence more appropriate to the crime: 41 months in prison. So why is this such a big hoo-hah? Because Ed Vrdolyak has been a gangster disguised as a public servant for decades. He masterminded most of Chicago’s most notorious payoffs, scams, illegal deals, hidden agendas and hiring schemes and never served a day in jail. In this most recent incident Vrdolyak wound up with probation because the court received hundreds of letters of support from his pals, cronies, highly-placed relatives and even Chicago Bears linebacker Brian Urlacher. The feds wisely decided this was all a pile of cow poo and overturned it. I, for one, can’t wait to see a photo of Fast Eddie in stripes reporting to the penitentiary in Joliet. Mazel tov!

Another winter warning gone awry. Surprise, surprise ... the crappy frozen weather I mentioned in my January 27 post never materialized here. We had a few thundershowers last night followed by a temperature drop, but apparently the worst of it hit the Texas panhandle (nowhere near Dallas) with a foot of snow and then moved north into Oklahoma, where they’re buried under three inches of solid ice. I’m actually fine with that because everybody knows Oklahoma is a much better spot for an ice storm. Thank you.