IS IT WRONG?
I recently went grocery shopping at The Jewels.
But something was different.
Standing in front, in the spot usually reserved for the gregarious Streetwise vendor, was one of the mayor's tall fat leather-clad Machine ward cretins.
He held a clipboard in his hand, and as I slipped past him I realized he was collecting signatures to get da mare on the ballot for the spring primary. (Mayoral hopefuls must procure a whopping 25,000 signatures -- while statewide candidates only need 5,000 signatures to run for office. This 1995 rule makes it nearly impossible for outsiders to get on the ballot and could perhaps explain why we have a Mare for Life). I'd seen a similar clipboard-toting thug in front of the drug store on Sunday, and gave him a wide berth.
When I came out, though, the corpulant committeeman caught me.
"Are you registered to the vote in the City of Chicago?"
"Nope," I said, pulling out my keys and making a beeline for my bicycle.
So much for satya.