HOLLYWOOD - Have no fear Mr. and Mrs. Concerned Chicagoland Citizen, and greater Cook County lost ships at sea.
Even though, your erstwhile, almost, but not quite, fearless leader, Rahm Emanuel's bid for the top dog, Chi-Town mayoral prize has apparently met with a major it-can bump in the road, due to his untimely failure to satisfy certain have to be there residency requirements, the longtime anything but local boy who was up to no good, has quickly found a way to move on, as they say, to much more greener-like pastures.
And no, I don't mean the kind out there along the prairie, where all them methane producing cows keep roaming around in, before it's time for them all to come home in time to see the chickens roost themselves again into a coma.
No, that would be too easy.
And/or, just another short walk off a long pier, for a date with the bottom of the lake, so to speak. And, of course, the right now chance to go one on many with all those who have come and gone before and, along the way, already tried like hell to make an honest town of the place.
Mainly because, I guess, any available trunk space at any of O'Hare's long-term parking has already been filled by folks who either took the points in the Bears game against the Packers last Sunday, or were dumb enough to bet the house that Jay Cutler would lead them to the Super Bowl promise land, and then, well, somehow think that Two Ton Tony might let such a miscue ride until another of their late-arriving ship's never on an/or seldom as scheduled.
Yeah, I know, the dog ate your last slip and fall settlement. So how about while you're waiting on the next one, you hop in and cozy up with the spare, or else Ivan here will be forced to meet and greet you with some not so nice boy rough stuff, eh?
But, as Peter said to Paul (right before Mary M. gave Judas the high sign), that there's another story.
What matters most now is that Rahm the Mon in Exile lands squarely on his feet, and just keeps on going, that-a-way.
In other words, first train out of town would be nice.
And well, don't look now, but, as far as this silly Billy of a high wire public office beast goes, there's no need to put in the request twice.
On the simple (Simon-like says, "How's about if you now do something like this?") solid as all get the WTF out grounds that Rahm's longtime show biz industry musclehead brother Ari (current CEO at William Morris Endeavor Entertainment) has apparently twisted enough crooked arms to secure the onetime White House Chief of all Staffers, several major first-look, take it or leave it, deals in the always up for anything (especially if prettied up pig's ear-wise enough) on-air entertainment and/or info-like tainment areas, otherwise catering to the otherwise great unwashed, stay at home crowd.
Meaning, of course, well, you do the math. And along the way, peel off a good 15 to 20% when, and wherever you like, for your own tight-lipped safe keeping.
I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'.
In still other words, as luck and certain amount of well connected nine lives fate would have it, Citizen Emanuel is now in a more or less (accent on more) preferred assume the position to pick and choose his next career-like path.
And, by being so professionally ushered along accordingly, the not-so-Mr. Nice Guy should have no trouble securing a well worth his while forum in which to best unfold his traveling road show circus tent, of sorts.
Thereby, allowing him even more room than previously thought possible to reconfigure his ongoing legacy, and, of course, continue to spread the discouraging word of his own, yes, me-first, gospel according to someone's epically proportioned, intimately designed, right now, moment at hand agenda for tomorrow's day before yesterday future.
Believe me, this kind of accounting always makes sense to those with all the pencils. So, like yeah, get used to even more of the same in odd we trust.
And well, wouldn't ya just know, that there odd switch is quickly now approaching the all-purpose eleven on any and all must see TV-like levels in the vicinity of most of America's unfiltered, unchallenged, eyes wide open shut, non-elite.
Or, as the in-the-spotlight un-gentleman of the moment informed many of those clamoring around for answers, in the wake of his suddenly anything but unmanageable u-turn career adjustment, "You ain't seen f&$#in' sX@$, or anything yet, motherf%@*ers!"
But, then again, sad being the soon operative conditional word of true, some of us will be forced to soon take a gander at, or choose to judiciously look away from such would-be, highly likely, certain claptrap TV fare as:
A gritty (what else?), in-your-face, don't ask/do tell, go straight to hell, weekly series about a hard-charging, shoot first, never ask questions later, hot shot mayor of a great metropolitan major Midwestern urban stronghold.
(Any guesses as to where? Well, the first two don't count, and Detroit has it's own problems to deal with, so, again do the math. Especially the kind that goes, 1 plus 1 rhymes with 2.)
In any case, this looks to be a decided sure thing. Especially, if NBC caves in and opens up a wider than usual shot on their ultra-hot, where all cool people go-to, USA Network.
And with, Michael Mann, Dennis Farina, Selma Blair, Michael Clarke Duncan, Jason Schwartzman, Martin Lawrence, Alex Borstein, Daphne Rosen, and Elliot Gould, suddenly all ears with regards to any possible perfect storm possibilities that Rahm might OK such a cast to otherwise support and defend the weekly showcasing of his hit the mark, thespian talents, well, as the could-be star of the whole show so eloquently put it recently to a smiling blonde gal on "Access Hollywood," "Who the f&@# knows?"
RAHMMY & CHER
If anything, this hard to stomach exercise in wall-to-wall certain bad taste would certainly be a hit. At least, for 5 minutes, or so; just like the late Anna Nicole Smith reality-like monstrosity.
But, even so, that would certainly not stop it from being an otherwise altogether interesting TV train wreck (ala "Pink Lady and Jeff"), that, in the end, would provide numerous hack comedians out there with a few, solid years, of go-to punchlines whenever their usual killer stuff about ill-timed erections and/or rectal exams somehow ain't delivering enough laughs from the typical bunch Rotary Club losers, who, lucky for them, were dumb enough to pay up front for such hardly hot-buttoned, more often than not, humorless comical services.
Meanwhile, let's just hope that that good folks at TVLand can see eye to eye with the off-the-wall kilter mindset of first-time variety show producer, David Lynch, while everyone else waits patiently for possible head writer/showfunner Bruce Villanch to get the first 10-plus pounds of his girth-friendly torso into a form-fitting five pound worthy Jo Anne Worley t-shirt. And, hopefully, still have enough wiggle room to come up with some vintage stuff that, in it's day, would have once certainly made both Donny & Marie blush, but might bring a smile, or two, to the present day down in the dump grills of so many soon to be forgotten baby boomers.
And well, if either of these two don't somehow pan out, there's always hope that someone at MSNBC likes the soon to be ringing in their ear sound of:
COUNTDOWN WITH RAHM EMANUEL.
What the hell, if this sort of news and infotainment designer shoe fits, then, just remember you heard it here first, folks.
Yeah, right. And, don't forget to pass the puke bucket along to both the left and the right side of this sort of "How you like me now?" bottom(f&%$in')line equation.
Nice work if you can forget it.
Sad to say, many of us can't and/or won't be allowed to.
In still other, other words, let's all beware.