1,001 Chicago Afternoons

She wasn’t so much sexy as stylish. That’s the characteristic I figure they hired her for.

Some people can be decked and drizzled with the hautest of coutures and step out into the world looking like a kid in a Halloween costume.

The Gucci, Versace, Dolce and/or Gabbana fits and clings in all the right places, the heels lift asses and the suitcoats hide beer guts just as well, but there’s something awkward and wrong, a plaint in the eyes crying for socks, Crocs and an oversized T-shirt advertising their favorite sports team.

But not her. » Read the rest of this entry «

I recently heard a political guy fulminate against tax increment financing — one of the hot-button issues of the upcoming election and a funding source either raising or stealing billions of dollars, depending on who you ask. He inspired me.

He inspired me to take a couple of these 1,001 afternoons to explain TIFs, because that guy clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.

On Wednesday, I touched the broad strokes — why we have TIFs, what they do and why they’re only as bad as the person using them. Today, we’re getting into the nitty-gritty. » Read the rest of this entry «

I recently went to a political thing that had a courageous, honest, truthful speaker who clearly knew diddlysquat about TIF districts.

While I admire the passion the man (who was not either of the mayoral candidates) exhibited, it drove me nuts that media efforts to educate the public on how city finances work have culminated in “TIF bad.”

With that in mind, I’m going to use the next two of my 1,001 afternoons to tell you what tax increment financing is and how the current system is screwing you with your pants on. » Read the rest of this entry «

I was woken to the chirping of those little feathered flying tree-mice things whose name escapes me because it’s been so long.

There’s an itch in the air in Chicago.

It’s not the full-on fever of spring, just an itch on the skin, a tickle on the back of the throat. There’s just enough sunlight and just enough open coats to remind you spring is coming. » Read the rest of this entry «

All poetry has been based on the candidates’ most recent D-2 quarterly reports and any A-1 reports made available on the Illinois State Board of Election’s website as of Feb. 8, 2015. » Read the rest of this entry «

1931, The Ritz Club

Bill Bottoms’ popular black-and-tan, where the atmosphere is torrid during the wee small hours. Plenty of action from the colored saxophone player and the drummer, and the entertainment goes on at a merry clip. Floor shows, dancing between, exotic atmosphere, food, and the beaming personality of Bill himself. Chicken and chops are a specialty on the menu.

It’s a weed-choked field in Washington Park. » Read the rest of this entry «

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She started again. » Read the rest of this entry «

Under the glittering Macy’s trumpets jutting from the department store, an old man’s saxophone trickled down the darkened street. » Read the rest of this entry «

The elevator’s mirrored doors were a cruel touch; the riders couldn’t even lock eyes ahead.

Instead, the 10 in the metal box had to go to different ruses to avoid looking at each other. They looked up, down, to the left, to the right. They pretended to be interested into the inset screens spewing outside weather temperatures and snippets of the news. » Read the rest of this entry «

It’s grotesque. A sneering, snarling, stupid face with an upturned, piggish nose and a tongue waggling out between pointlessly swollen fangs.

People brush past it as they head to see “American Gothic,” “Nighthawks,” “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte,” Picasso, Manet, Monet, the gift shop, the rest room, the Modern Wing film installation where the clown just screams.

The little sad ogre-faced brick is tucked in a corner by the elevator, passed and ignored by the milling Art Institute of Chicago crowds. » Read the rest of this entry «