A little help for the fledgling Stroger dynasty BY NEIL STEINBERG SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
A little help for the fledgling Stroger dynasty BY NEIL STEINBERG SUN-TIMES COLUMNIST
Copyright by THe Chicago Sun Times
June 30, 2006
Opening shot
OK, I give up.
If the serfs tilling the fields and tending to the vineyards of Cook County are expected to automatically transfer their allegiance from board president John H. Stroger to his son and heir, Todd, and perhaps to any Stroger progeny yet unborn who may demand fealty onward into perpetuity, who am I to object?
Still, it seems a shame that the ascendant Stroger dynasty does not have the traditional heraldic crest.
The official seal of Cook County -- a bland affair with a map and a ship and buildings -- will not do. Too outdated, too high-school civics circa 1952, compared to our fascinating world of family fiefdoms.
So after a brief study of the icons of heraldry, I have designed a Stroger coat-of-arms, which our own graphics whiz Tom Frisbie was good enough to produce.
The crenelated line across the Stroger shield represents embattlement, while its running from lower left to upper right -- the "bar sinister" -- denotes the illegitimacy of the power grab.
In the upper left of the shield, a goat symbolizes victory through politics, as opposed to valor. In the lower right, the bear, denotes ferocity in protecting one's children. In the center, a portcullis -- or castle gate -- symbolizes defense in an emergency.
The left half is blue -- for the all-important loyalty -- the right half, a brownish-orange hue referred to as "tenne," which signifies fierce ambition.
A good coat-of-arms needs a family motto, and while I considered "Pour Dieu et Argent" or "For God and Money," I decided that "L'etat, C'est Nous" or, "We are the State," seems more apt.
Now that the coat-of-arms is decided upon, there is the matter of a crown. Gold is very popular . . .
Am I like all the others yet?
Gee, maybe Barack Obama is running for president in 2008 after all.
He certainly acts like it. Cutting ribbon, trimming doilies -- closely following Hillary Clinton -- to construct a big lacy valentine for the religious right.
"We make a mistake when we fail to acknowledge the power of faith in the lives of the American people, and join a serious debate about how to reconcile faith with our modern, pluralistic democracy," he told a group of evangelicals.
There's one problem.
The faithful are not stupid. They might believe in a cosmology that includes winged angels and horned demons and cling to a world view that a savvy 6-year-old could poke holes in all day long.
But they're not dumb. They aren't looking for acknowledgement, or serious debate, or any of the lofty imagery of welcoming religion in the public square that Obama conjured up in his speech.
They want to ban abortion. They want to start the day in public school with prayer -- their prayer. They want to shove gays back in the closet and lock the door. They want to slap the novels out of your 17-year-old's hands because page 156 describes some sexual act that everybody in the English class knows about and half of them have performed.
They want to harness law and government and then snap the whip, putting them to work imposing their religious practices on others who do not share their beliefs. No amount of wishful political happy talk is going to obscure that.
Reality is not a poll
Perhaps the most disingenuous thing Obama said was this:
"Substantially more people believe in angels than ... believe in evolution."
And what does that prove? No matter how many people are convinced the moon hangs only a mile or two above us in the sky, the lunar surface never actually draws closer. Millions of children believe in the Tooth Fairy but that does not will her into being.
Faith is wonderful, or can be -- Obama is correct here -- but has been shanghaied by the intolerant to gild their biases in a veneer of acceptability. We don't hate you; God does.
It is the role of government to create a realm where people of complete faith, moderate faith and no faith at all can interact. Certain religious-inspired actions -- providing charity for the downtrodden -- are welcome. While others -- stoning your sister as a whore -- are not.
The bottom line is: It's bad enough the Republicans feel compelled to do a fan dance for their core religious supporters. Let's not have the Democrats start, too.
Harry gets it
News that J.K. Rowling intends to kill two characters in the final Harry Potter book caused a stir in our household, where the six published volumes have been read and reread to the point of disintegration.
My 10-year-old offered up a theory that I thought worthy of distribution: Harry is one of those who dies, because he is one of the missing horcruxes -- or receptacles Lord Voldemort uses to store his splintered soul.
It has a certain epic grimness, to let Harry and he-who-must-not-be-named go out together, and would keep Rowling from being pestered to check up on Harry in years hence, after he marries Ginny Weasly and settles down on Privet Drive.
Why couldn't Harry Potter die? I said. "After all, Sherlock Holmes dies . . ."
My son's expression of shock stopped me cold.
"He does?" the boy said, his eyes widening, and I realized he hadn't read the tale where Holmes and Moriarty go over Reichenbach Falls.
Whoops, Dad spills the beans.
"It's OK," I said hastily. "Conan Doyle got so many complaints, he found a way to bring Holmes back to life."
A reminder that however Rowling winds things up, there's always a way to wiggle out of it later.
Man of many hats
While African Americans have assumed their rightful place in most sports, horse-racing is not one of them. So it should not come as a complete shock to read -- in the Daily Racing Form, no less -- that the Rev. Jesse Jackson has been hired by the Jockeys' Guild as its co-manager. Rainbow/PUSH confirmed their union, and one can only assume that whatever protests racetracks may have once been facing they are facing no longer.
Today's chuckle
Just so you know that this column is read by a tony clientele, the following joke is submitted by John O'Neill, who is not only a teacher of journalism and an alumnus of Northwestern's Medill School, but resides in the desirable urban oasis of Oak Park:
Man walks into his usual London pub. Looks a little down. Bartender recognizes him, begins to pull a pint of his usual ale.
"Bitter?" the bartender says, with a nod.
"No,'' the man replies. "Just very, very sad."
Copyright by THe Chicago Sun Times
June 30, 2006
Opening shot
OK, I give up.
If the serfs tilling the fields and tending to the vineyards of Cook County are expected to automatically transfer their allegiance from board president John H. Stroger to his son and heir, Todd, and perhaps to any Stroger progeny yet unborn who may demand fealty onward into perpetuity, who am I to object?
Still, it seems a shame that the ascendant Stroger dynasty does not have the traditional heraldic crest.
The official seal of Cook County -- a bland affair with a map and a ship and buildings -- will not do. Too outdated, too high-school civics circa 1952, compared to our fascinating world of family fiefdoms.
So after a brief study of the icons of heraldry, I have designed a Stroger coat-of-arms, which our own graphics whiz Tom Frisbie was good enough to produce.
The crenelated line across the Stroger shield represents embattlement, while its running from lower left to upper right -- the "bar sinister" -- denotes the illegitimacy of the power grab.
In the upper left of the shield, a goat symbolizes victory through politics, as opposed to valor. In the lower right, the bear, denotes ferocity in protecting one's children. In the center, a portcullis -- or castle gate -- symbolizes defense in an emergency.
The left half is blue -- for the all-important loyalty -- the right half, a brownish-orange hue referred to as "tenne," which signifies fierce ambition.
A good coat-of-arms needs a family motto, and while I considered "Pour Dieu et Argent" or "For God and Money," I decided that "L'etat, C'est Nous" or, "We are the State," seems more apt.
Now that the coat-of-arms is decided upon, there is the matter of a crown. Gold is very popular . . .
Am I like all the others yet?
Gee, maybe Barack Obama is running for president in 2008 after all.
He certainly acts like it. Cutting ribbon, trimming doilies -- closely following Hillary Clinton -- to construct a big lacy valentine for the religious right.
"We make a mistake when we fail to acknowledge the power of faith in the lives of the American people, and join a serious debate about how to reconcile faith with our modern, pluralistic democracy," he told a group of evangelicals.
There's one problem.
The faithful are not stupid. They might believe in a cosmology that includes winged angels and horned demons and cling to a world view that a savvy 6-year-old could poke holes in all day long.
But they're not dumb. They aren't looking for acknowledgement, or serious debate, or any of the lofty imagery of welcoming religion in the public square that Obama conjured up in his speech.
They want to ban abortion. They want to start the day in public school with prayer -- their prayer. They want to shove gays back in the closet and lock the door. They want to slap the novels out of your 17-year-old's hands because page 156 describes some sexual act that everybody in the English class knows about and half of them have performed.
They want to harness law and government and then snap the whip, putting them to work imposing their religious practices on others who do not share their beliefs. No amount of wishful political happy talk is going to obscure that.
Reality is not a poll
Perhaps the most disingenuous thing Obama said was this:
"Substantially more people believe in angels than ... believe in evolution."
And what does that prove? No matter how many people are convinced the moon hangs only a mile or two above us in the sky, the lunar surface never actually draws closer. Millions of children believe in the Tooth Fairy but that does not will her into being.
Faith is wonderful, or can be -- Obama is correct here -- but has been shanghaied by the intolerant to gild their biases in a veneer of acceptability. We don't hate you; God does.
It is the role of government to create a realm where people of complete faith, moderate faith and no faith at all can interact. Certain religious-inspired actions -- providing charity for the downtrodden -- are welcome. While others -- stoning your sister as a whore -- are not.
The bottom line is: It's bad enough the Republicans feel compelled to do a fan dance for their core religious supporters. Let's not have the Democrats start, too.
Harry gets it
News that J.K. Rowling intends to kill two characters in the final Harry Potter book caused a stir in our household, where the six published volumes have been read and reread to the point of disintegration.
My 10-year-old offered up a theory that I thought worthy of distribution: Harry is one of those who dies, because he is one of the missing horcruxes -- or receptacles Lord Voldemort uses to store his splintered soul.
It has a certain epic grimness, to let Harry and he-who-must-not-be-named go out together, and would keep Rowling from being pestered to check up on Harry in years hence, after he marries Ginny Weasly and settles down on Privet Drive.
Why couldn't Harry Potter die? I said. "After all, Sherlock Holmes dies . . ."
My son's expression of shock stopped me cold.
"He does?" the boy said, his eyes widening, and I realized he hadn't read the tale where Holmes and Moriarty go over Reichenbach Falls.
Whoops, Dad spills the beans.
"It's OK," I said hastily. "Conan Doyle got so many complaints, he found a way to bring Holmes back to life."
A reminder that however Rowling winds things up, there's always a way to wiggle out of it later.
Man of many hats
While African Americans have assumed their rightful place in most sports, horse-racing is not one of them. So it should not come as a complete shock to read -- in the Daily Racing Form, no less -- that the Rev. Jesse Jackson has been hired by the Jockeys' Guild as its co-manager. Rainbow/PUSH confirmed their union, and one can only assume that whatever protests racetracks may have once been facing they are facing no longer.
Today's chuckle
Just so you know that this column is read by a tony clientele, the following joke is submitted by John O'Neill, who is not only a teacher of journalism and an alumnus of Northwestern's Medill School, but resides in the desirable urban oasis of Oak Park:
Man walks into his usual London pub. Looks a little down. Bartender recognizes him, begins to pull a pint of his usual ale.
"Bitter?" the bartender says, with a nod.
"No,'' the man replies. "Just very, very sad."
posted by Carlos T Mock at 8:26 AM
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