On Politics

Last weekend Olde Foz was prowling around town, on my way to the Union League Club of Chicago for a swanky event where eggheads say things like “harrumph, harrumph, harrumph.”  I was going to meet some friends and citizens in a secret, smoky room where we drank whiskey and smoked cigars and decided who would be the next President of the United States.

Ooops.  Pretend I didn’t say that.  There is no smoky room at the Union League Club where elections are fixed and your future is determined by white men in suits who smoke cigars and drink brandy out of snifters.  You still totally live in a free and representative Democracy, and Olde Foz is not a member of some secret star chamber that pulls the strings of international finance and diplomacy and manipulates governments from Washington to Moscow like so many puppets on strings. 

And the room was not filled with hookers.  Nope.  No hookers feeding us champaign from glass slippers.  They was classy ladies!

Anyway, on my way to steal the upcoming election and consign you all to lives of unknowing servitude, and while passing this Eternal Flame thingy by The Blues Brothers Building, I noticed a bunch of miserable, filthy, debased pigeons.  They were crowding close to the eternal flame, scrambling violently to push the next one away from the pathetic temporary refuge from the freezing, heartless, darkened city.  I thought of you, so I took this picture.

Enjoy your crumbs, suckers!

Anyway, Foz the Hook will be playing funny songs for you tonight at Cole’s at 9:00.  As Marx said, “Comedy is the heroine of the suckers.”  That’s why Olde Foz keeps you laughing, while secretly he rules your lives.

Just saying.  It’s all a cover-up!