But the Sun-Times has a recent history of mysterious and disingenuous endorsements and the Tribune hasn't endorsed a Democrat for president since, well, ever. And even if the majority of both editorial boards prefer Obama - certainly the case at the Sun-Times - each board could be overruled by either its editor or, more likely if necessary, its publisher.

Let's try to read the tea leaves anyway.

The Sun-Times would have been an easy call under its old masters, the felons Conrad Black and David Radler. Black and Radler took the paper on a dramatically rightward turn during their time. Former editorial page editor Steve Huntley is a conservative, and now as an Op-Ed columnist for the paper is one of the few pro-McCain voices in the paper.

After Black and Radler were out of the fold, the Sun-Times tried to re-brand itself as "the progressive conscience of the city," an about-face as drastic - and market-oriented - as the ditching of New Coke.

In fact, the paper's sense of the market triumphed when former publisher John Cruickshank overrode the editorial board of reformist Forrest Claypool in backing the candidate nefariously installed in a backroom maneuver by the Chicago Machine, Todd Stroger, for Cook County Board President. Cruickshank admitted he was motivated in part by the desire to court the paper's neglected African-American base.

The paper's gymnastics in justifying its endorsement were so tortured that it promised to put extra reporters on the county beat to make sure Stroger didn't commit more corruption than even Chicagoans could bear.

That move reminded local news junkies of the old days when Radler overrode the wishes of the editorial board to endorse Rod Blagojevich for governor in the Democratic primary over former Chicago schools chief Paul Vallas. Blagojevich, of course, could be indicted every day for a variety of alleged abuses and is a better than even bet to become the second Illinois governor in a row sent to prison.

There is no doubt the Sun-Times editorial board prefers Obama, although this week the so-called progressive conscience - if that branding is even still operable - chose to endorse incumbent Republican congressman Mark Kirk over liberal Democratic challenger Dan Seals.

The wild card in all of this is Sun-Times publisher Cyrus Freidheim, the former CEO of Chiquita. whose political contributions are almost exclusively Republican, including donations to Mitt Romney, George W. Bush, and - in large chunks - various apparati of the GOP.

Likewise, the wild card at the Tribune is CEO Sam Zell, an avowed conservative whose favorite columnist is Charles Krauthammer. Zell did give $2,300 to Obama in 2007 (and $1,000 to McCain in 1999) and has given money to Democrats, but mostly gives to Republicans.

Tribune editorial page editor Bruce Dold is a moderate suburban Republican; the page has moderated in recent times and in 2006 encouraged Obama to run for president.

Still, the paper has stuck by its support for the war in Iraq and still pledges itself to conservative free-market principles.

Chicago Reader media critic Michael Miner speculates that this could be the year the Trib turns blue, but I have my doubts. Sure, a McCain endorsement would re-brand the paper as Granddad Trib at a time when its promoting its snazzy new design and new creative features to prove its relevance, but I'm not sure Zell would stand by while any paper in his empire tried to put a Democrat in the White House.

My prediction for awhile has been that the Tribune will find a way around the conundrum, perhaps by publishing an alternate endorsement alongside its official one.

At any rate, the Tribune is doing something new this year by soliciting the views of its readers as it deliberates. And then the paper will ignore those views and do what it wants anyway.

*

Editor & Publisher is tracking newspaper endorsements around the country and so far tallies 28 for Obama and 11 for McCain. It's still early; no Illinois newspapers have yet made the list.

One of the better pieces in terms of overview comes from eleven-a-side.com, which neatly summarises the root problem:

Despite the investment in national and club promotions officers, attendance figures across the League are dismal...

In a world where Gaelic games and rugby offer greater glamour, and the razzmatazz of the über-rich Premier League and a traditional bond with Celtic sees thousands of Irishmen and women flock through airport security every weekend, sentiment towards the League of Ireland from many sports fans ranges from apathy to anathema.

So far, the response of clubs desperate to attract the fickle Irish sports punter is to spend large volumes of money that they don't have. The Tribune puts the focus on 2008 Champions Bohemians, in a well-balanced piece, with sporting success on the field and truly alarming financial circumstances off it.

Mind you, the Tribune is hardly in a position to give advice, since it virtually bans on-the-pitch coverage of the domestic game. As previously argued on FP, a little less patronising concern and a little more active support from an Irish newspaper for Irish sport might be more what the doctor ordered.

Others may be about to get real, however, and the Sunday Business Post reports that the FAI has called in deluded clubs for a 'financial workshop' in an attempt to stop the madness. League director Fran Gavin, it seems, is finally ready to dish out a dose of financial cop-on:

Gavin said that new data showed that Eircom League clubs spent 95 per cent of their turnover on salaries last season, much more than the European average.

New regulations capping the salary figure at 65 per cent of a club’s relevant income came into force this year. Gavin said that 75 per cent of all players in the league were out of contract at the end of this season.

‘‘This is an opportunity for clubs to get their costs under control,” he said. "... The time has come for clubs to act.”

By Brent D. Payne

Linky Goodness, September 11
SMX East: The Great Search Industry - The Big Water Story

Analysts Lower Q3 Estimates For Online Ad Revenues; Offline Still Looks Worse -- Given the continued downward spirals in the world’s financial markets, UBS internet analyst Ben Schachter says the firm is lowering price estimates for online ad revenues ahead of the Q3 earnings report period. Still, it may be at least a small consolation that offline looks worse and some web-based companies could benefit as more companies look to cheaper and more targeted online ads. In an analyst note (PDF, not online), Schachter said that while the first two months of Q3 “were decent,” September proved difficult.

AdGooroo: Search Advertisers Flocking To MSN -- There were nearly 20% more advertisers actively running paid search campaigns on Microsoft's Live Search in the third quarter of 2008 than in the second, according to new stats from AdGooroo. Meanwhile, there was a 3% increase in Google's active advertiser base, and about a 3% drop in active advertisers for Yahoo. The online advertising technology and competitive intelligence firm released its "Search Engine Advertiser Update--Q308," which also showed that all three of the big engines seemed to take economy-related hits in the middle of the quarter.

Prospective Buyers Line Up For San Diego U-T; But Just Looking For Now, Thanks -- About four buyers are taking a serious look at The San Diego Union-Tribune, which put itself up for sale two months ago. Voice of San Diego identifies the prospective suitors: New York Times Company (NYSE: NYT), MediaNews Group, Tribune Company and Canadian newspaper publisher Black Press. But with the daily’s estimated value range of $200 million to $300 million—which VoSD attributes to Outsell’s Ken Doctor—it’s an open question whether any of those companies are prepared to pay that sort of price for a newspaper right now. And is the U-T, which is owned by privately-held Copley Press, actually worth that much? VoSD notes that circ has been slipping and the U-T has lost a lot of talent—two things that have been afflicting just about every newspaper to one degree or another.

Tech Not Excluded From Meltdown; Startups Told To Cut Back Spending -- Now that we are weeks into a financial crisis, not only are the predictions starting to surface on how technology, and specifically wireless will be affected, but actions are starting to be taken. In one of the most alarming examples, GigaOm reports today, that Sequoia Capital, is telling its portfolio companies to buckle down, and illustrated the point by displaying an image of a grave stone with the message R.I.P.: Good Times.

The former U.S. Senator who held Barack Obama's seat says Obama hasn't done what he promised to do while running for office. Peter Fitzgerald criticized Obama, as part of a conference call rallying support for Republican presidential candidate John McCain. Get more over at the Sun-Times.

Outgoing Senate President Emil Jones didn't sugarcoat what his role was as a senator. At a recent ribbon-cutting, Jones talked about how he brought back a "slice of the pie" to his former University, according to the Chicago Tribune.

• Hard to Breathe:

Spanish Anarchists shooting at Jesus

• Review: Durruti in the Spanish Revolution

Black Flag's review of the AK Press title.

On Iberian culture:

• Kyle: So Typically Spanish, Vol. 1:

[...]I'm going to start a new feature called "So Typically Spanish" after what George Orwell would always remark when a Spaniard, well, did something so typically Spanish in "Homage to Catalonia." The one example that sticks out in my mind right now (since I don't have the book to reference, it's on loan) is how when he got shot in the throat and ended up in the hospital, two Spanish acquaintances that he never spoke to on the front line, saw him in the hospital, talked to him briefly, then gave him a week worth of rations of tobacco.[...]

On democratic socialism in Britain:

• Don't let this be the end of Tribune! Orwell's old magazine in trouble.

From the Workers' Group in the Bolshevik party:

• Manifesto, at The Commune

[/caption]

It's that time of year again. The leaves are changing and falling. The temperature is dropping and hopefully will numb the pain of the early playoff exit and we'll all turn our attention to other sporting interests. The Bears are better than expected, the Irish have more wins than they had all of last season (that was for you, Corey), the Bulls are young and can only be better with #1 pick Derrick Rose and, if you're in to the sport of Pailin, the Blackhawks have some young talent as well and they'll be playing outdoors at Wrigley.

But wait... I have a feeling that our beloved Cubbies won't allow our attention to be diverted this offseason. With the pain of the severe beating still fresh in our minds it is easy to forget that the Tribune Company, everyone's favorite ownership group, is trying to unload this team. They're separately trying to sell Wrigley Field with little success. The team is in pretty good shape talent wise, which I'm sure they're thrilled about, but Wrigley Field is a liability. Cubs fans love it, but to whoever buys this team it will be a thorn.

If the Trib is unable to pawn off Wrigley, the new ownership will face a cash-flow shortage after the purchase of the team and is unlikely to fund any necessary renovations with their own money. Then comes the naming issue. Wrigley is out. Boeing or Motorola (insert large Chicago company name here) is in. Ticket prices are up, beer is now $10, hot dogs $8, the once "cheap" bleacher seats $60. With all of their additional revenue they'll be ready to renovate. If they hire the same architects as the Bears did for Soldier field we're left with a space ship with a name we don't recognize and no troughs to piss in.

Then there are actual baseball matters. How will new ownership, or lack of, affect Jim Hendry's ability to sign free agents Ryan Dempster and Kerry Wood or go get quality replacements if they prove to be too expensive? Hendry has done a great job in his tenure as GM, but it's yet to be seen if he'll get handcuffs or a blank check.

Brace yourselves Cubs fans. The potential pain of this off-season could trump being swept out of the playoffs. Oh well, I guess we wait...until next year.

Add another investigation to the list against Gov. Rod Blagojevich. Authorities are now investigating whether convicted felon Tony Rezko paid for any or all of the governor’s $90,0000 worth of rehab work on his house. Read more at the Sun-Times.

Speaking of the governor's trouble, the Tribune has a comprehensive opinion piece breaking down Blagojevich's troubles and possible repercussions.

What's the best way to get tickets to a playoff game at Wrigley or (possibly) Cellular Field? Become an Illinois plitician. See the Tribune for more.

Even though legislators voted to restore $220 million worth of budget cuts last week, the budget debacle could be far from over. The SJ-R provides a detailed account of the ongoing budget battle and how it could all play out.

Que ce soit pour améliorer ses relations avec les autres ou tout simplement pour se sentir bien dans sa tête, il est essentiel d’apprendre à se connaître. Un travail sur soi est utile à l’épanouissement personnel et au bien être. Des moyens de vaincre ses petits défauts et d’affronter les épreuves aux 1 000 façons de prendre la vie du bon côté, ou je vais vous aider pour un "moi nouveau" !

Bon une petite présentation s'impose !

Je suis Victoire, j'ai 26 ans et un petit lou du nom de Jean. Diplômé d’un Master Staps en ingénierie de la performance spécialité Coaching et préparation psycho.(Montpellier).

J’ai 5 années d’expérience en France comme à l’étranger notamment Gstaad(suisse), Corfou(Grèce), Rome…où j’ai été formé à la technique Pilates à l’AT et la PNL. Je suis également titulaire d’une licence APA(rééducation pour les personnes handicapées.) j’ai donc travaillé au CRF de Warc.

Pourquoi ce blog Victoire ?

Vous voulez Mincir et le rester, retrouver votre énergie, votre forme, améliorer votre condition physique,retrouver confiance en vous ou gérer le stress?

C'est ce que je vous propose : un bilan forme afin d’entreprendre un Coaching personnalisé à domicile.Perte de poids postnatal, renforcement musculaire, s'assouplir, se relaxer, se défouler, se sentir mieux dans sa peau....et ce chez vous.

Ce serait la plage aux épaves devant l'hôtel où les bateaux viennent mourir. Fort-Dauphin, dernière destination pour eux. Ils y finissent doucement allongés sur le sable, se laissant rouiller en attendant les pilleurs d'épaves et les enfants joueurs. Sud-Extrême de Madagascar, ambiance de comptoir colonial, bout du monde, terre qui a renoncé. Sur une autre plage de la ville, Joseph le rasta se désespère de ne plus pouvoir fumer son herbe face à la mer sans se faire contrôler.

Sur cette terre d'exil et d'oubli, on peut noyer sa tristesse dans le plus petit bar du monde, une petite boîte en bois avec deux tabourets et le plus petit barman du monde qui n'arrive pas au comptoir et sert d'incroyables bières de 75 cl "Three Horses" à 4000 francs malgaches. Lorsqu'on grimpe sur la colline au-dessus des hôtels balnéaires, on voit en contrebas les tribunes d'un stade de foot où se joue un match décisif, forcément décisif. C'est drôle parce que le terrain est invisible du point de vue où l'on se trouve. Alors, on peut simplement suivre les actions dangereuses en observant les déplacements des spectateurs enthousiastes qui courent d'un bout à l'autre des tribunes dès qu'il y a danger devant un but. Fort-Dauphin invente les matchs invisibles.

Sur une autre grève, les pêcheurs semblent marcher sur l'eau, au plus près des rouleaux, s'avançant en équilibre avec leur canne sur la plateforme rocheuse qui affleure. C'est là que la grande fille demande : "Comment naissent les coquillages". Une vraie question. Plus loin, sur un cap, un groupe de maisons ont l'air à l'abandon mais c'est un leurre. Ici, tout n'est qu'assoupi, ouateux. Comme ce dispensaire silencieux aux murs couverts de dessins très éducatifs. A deux pas, une Française, Anne, installée dans une case de rêve accroché à une falaise tapissée d'arbres organise des séjours pour les touristes. Elle a un sort tout à fait enviable.

Ici l'attente est un art de vivre, presque un plaisir et la prison installée dans un fort au-dessus-du Pacifique donne envie de devenir délinquant colonial. On dirait qu'il suffit de pousser la porte pour entrer et papoter avec les détenus. Les horaires des visites sont inscrits en malgache et, en face, la femme du gardien-chef (un panneau sur la porte atteste de la fonction de l'occupant) prépare son repas en souriant, avec un enfant qui regarde par la fenêtre et se marre. Il a le même sourire XXL que le plus petit barman du monde qui a un gros problème avec la monnaie. Alors, lorsqu'il ne peut rendre d'argent sur un billet de 10.000 francs malgaches (ah, les énormes billets locaux qui vous donnent l'impression d'être un notable ou un voyou en cavale !), il vous propose une limonade "Bonbon Anglais" assez écœurante pour faire le compte. Et lorsqu'on le quitte, il ferme le plus petit bar du monde derrière vous en lançant "A la prochaine", sa recette de la saison faite.

Comme dans les revues de voyage d'antan, "L'Illustration" et d'autres, ces images un peu abîmées, patinées, griffées par le temps et ses petites blessures. Comme moi, comme nous. Arrêt sur images, carnets de voyages retrouvés. Se souvenir de la cathédrale de Fort-Dauphin et, face à elle, une mosquée immense comme pour relever un défi, construite par les "carans" (les Indiens qui vivent à Madagascar). Revoir un autre personnage incroyable de l'ancien comptoir colonial, une sorte de dandy black décadent aux cheveux défrisés avec la raie au milieu qui descend le sentier abrupt vers la plage touristique. Ce faux mannequin égaré avait l'air de sortir d'une pub parodique des jeans "Diesel". D'ailleurs, lorsqu'on retourne dans le centre-ville (le centre-ville!), on tombe sur un salon de coiffure improbable avec exposé dans la vitrine un sac à dos rouge de Père Noël. A quelques centaines de mètres de ce salon où les beautés se révèlent à elles-mêmes, une "Postes Télécommunications" qui regarde le large et d'où partent des messages d'oublis.

Lorsqu'on croise des enfants sur la plage de l'abandon, ils crient toujours joyeusement "Bonjour Wasa". Sur la plage aux épaves où l'on revient sans cesse, fascinés par les monstres assoupis, ces gosses sont toujours là, à escalader les coques rouillées, à passer par les hublots cassés pour chercher encore et toujours les trésors envolés des cargos meurtris. Parmi eux, se trouve un enfant aux yeux avides qui préfère trouver fortune dans les livres. Il regarde par-dessus mon épaule la lettre que j'écris. Comme mon écriture n'est guère lisible, je lui tends mon livre, "La Demande de Michèle Desbordes". Un bouquin qui raconte le regard amoureux d'un peintre italien en exil sur la servante d'un château de la Loire, en pleine Renaissance; Le gamin déchiffre le texte phonétiquement. Ses mots un peu maladroits mais beaux restent en suspens dans les gouttes d'écume. C'est émouvant de l'entendre déclamer le récit de personnages à mille lieux de lui, à des centaines d'années de sa vie. Et il voyage dans le texte en avançant doucement son doigt à l'ongle long sur les mots. Fort-Dauphin, rives de Loire, liaison immédiate.

Puis il me lit le nom du bateau échoué sur lequel les vagues font des geysers : "Akbary". Je lui donne le livre parce qu'il lui est mille fois plus précieux qu'à moi. Le petit Malgache a un sourire mi-triste, mi-timide. On revient sans cesse vers la mer, le dernier terrain vague de la ville. Sur celle-là, au pied d'une falaise, il y a toujours une femme qui sourit, enveloppé dans un tissu coloré que le vent plaque contre elle. Patiente, elle attend son pêcheur en proposant des nacres. Le soir est tombé sur Fort-Dauphin et un pétrolier est arrivé dans la rade, à quelques encablures des épaves. Comme on ne le voit pas immédiatement dans l'obscurité, sa corne de brume lorsqu'elle retentit semble être celle des épaves qui renaissent. Quelle étrange danse macabre ce serait sur la plage jusqu'alors engourdie, la revanche nocturne des cargos !

Le lendemain, la ville est toujours aussi molle et indolente. Le visiteur cherche le centre et le centre le fuit. Alors il va manger un croque-monsieur à la "Palmeraie", un salon de thé installé dans un local de la chambre de commerce endormie, encore sur un cap. Fort-Dauphin est une main dont tous les doigts griffent la mer. Après le croque-monsieur à la "Palmeraie" pendant que la grande fille se perd dans ses pensées, après la lecture instructive et décalée des quotidiens locaux, "La Tribune" et "L'Express", le voyage monte avec l'amie sur la terrasse à l'abandon du snack qui domine la ville et le seul bateau vivant parmi les épaves. Au milieu des tables vermoulues et renversées, entre les poteaux dont les lampions se sont envolés, ils imaginent ensemble les bals d'antan avec les couples amidonnés qui tournent, tournent dans le ciel. Il y a toujours des fantômes de danseurs quelque part et une musique semblable ou presque à celle de nos campagnes -"Plaisir d'amour ne dure..."- qui reste suspendue par les dernières notes. Il faut aimer ce parfum d'abandon dans les lieux à la dérive.

Si Bourvil était là, il adorerait ce lieu de petit bal perdu, envolé. Il irait à la sortie des mariages comme dans ses chansons ou voir l'authentique défilé de mode qui se déroule le dimanche de Pâques lorsque les Malgaches vont à la messe. Les petites filles ont des robes en satin qui tournent. Elles forment une escadrille discipline de demoiselles d'honneur. Les femmes ont des robes moulantes qui affolent les hommes, les prêtres, Dieu et tous ses saints. Les adolescents ont des costumes croisés brillants sur des chemines amidonnées, des pantalons au pli coupant dans une lame mais avec les mêmes Reebok et Nike que dans les rue de Marseille ou de Paris. Les vieilles dames pimpantes comme un sou neuf vendent des éclairs au chocolat et des brioches sur le parvis de la cathédrale. La grande fille fait des croquis des plus belles robes sous les regards amusés des habitants.

Après la sortie de messe à grand spectacle, je suis allé ensuite traîner dans le collège privé du Sacré-Cœur avec sa majestueuse allée plantée d'arbres pour jeunes filles chères à Proust et à Dave. Entendre pour soi seul les clameurs associées à une reprise de volée magique sur le terrain de foot défoncé pour ados portant un vieux maillot marqué Zidane. Derrière le collège de Fort-Dauphin, il suffit de sauter un mur pour se retrouver dans le cimetière de la ville. Il est plein de missionnaires couchés loin de leur Danemark ou de leur Allemagne natale, d'administrateurs des colonies françaises aux noms bretons, d'enfants morts très tôt, de femmes aux noms datés, (Zelaïde, Ernestine...) de Chinois dont le portrait semble sortir de "L'amant", de Marguerite Duras. Des centaines de vies en creux sur les stèles de marbre et surtout des rêves d'exil.

Après le cimetière, il y a aussi ce petit bar peint de couleurs vives sur une falaise avec les chèvres qui broutent à côté et lèvent la tête lorsque les surfers reviennent de leur joute avec les vagues. D'abord, on ne comprend pas pourquoi les habitants du village descendent tous sur la plage en contrebas avant de revenir quelques minutes après. Mystère que ce bref séjour dans la végétation qui pousse sur le sable Mais le patron du bar - qui met la musique à fond pour faire plaisir à ses hôtes - explique ces allers-retours en se désolant : "Ils vont faire caca sur la plage et jeter leurs ordures. Ils s'en foutent que ça soit un bel endroit".

Le soir, assommé d'images et de souvenirs fabriqués, je retourne à mon hôtel dans une atmosphère magique : une atmosphère rose baigne Fort-Dauphin et patine les lieux et les visages. Je m'endors dès le début de la soirée et je manque le rendez-vous avec le rasta vendeur d'herbe devant l'établissement. Mais je me réveille vers 21 heures et je descends manger avec la grande fille amie, qui erre entre deuil et enfance. Ils partagent la table d'un couple de Français, Karine et Benoît. Le repas est drôle. Ils sont agréables à regarder et leur conversation est plaisante. Lui est fragile. Elle est forte et joueuse. La grande fille leur fait des démonstrations de pliage de serviettes à thèmes e cela se terminer en concours avec le serveur : rose, veste, oiseau... Je ne me souviens plus du nom de l'étrange hôtel de béton décati jadis presque palace sur la plage, où je partage un lit avec la grande fille sans faire l'amour avec elle, prenant des douches dans une salle de bain brinquebalante où le lavabo est troué, regardant les bateaux s'échouer ou gémir le soir sur le balcon.

Toutes ses minuscules images et leurs milliers de sensations qui piquent comme des aiguilles sous la peau pour raviver le souvenir. Le dernier jour au bout du monde, une virée dans une réserve avec des lémuriens, des caméléons, des stèles funéraires au pied d'arbres géants avec des cornes de zébu en guise de croix. Un torrent avec une cascade qui fait penser à la Corse et un parcours en pirogue dans un cours d'eau qui chemine entre les arums géants "oreilles d'éléphants" et les mangroves. Bizarrement, cela rend triste. Comme un parcours imposé, un exercice pour remplir le temps allongé. Mais cela manque de solitude, d'absence et de langueur.

Alors je rentre avec le taxi qui passe des cassettes de blues sur la route défoncée et je viens dire adieu aux épaves du bout du monde à Fort-Dauphin. Je me dis que je devrais rester là, fouetté par les grains de sable. Lire "l'Ascension du Mont Ventoux" de Pétrarque jusqu'au réveil des bateaux. Mais je prends l'avion de retour comme un zombie, pour que la parenthèse ne devienne pas une fuite. Je ne suis pas retourné à Madagascar, là où mon pote Tonin a pourtant tant d'amis. Je devais m'y trouver pour la grande éclipse, attendre le soleil noir sur la plage des bateaux perdus mais ce fut partie remise. Alors, l'année prochaine à Fort-Dauphin, pour des souvenirs sans fin ? Pour d'autres moments d'exilé volontaire, sur la plus lointaine terre.

Philippe Larue, souvenir de mai 2000.

A $100,000 state grant for a botanic garden in Englewood that then-state Sen. Barack Obama awarded in 2001 to a group headed by a onetime campaign volunteer is now under investigation by the Illinois attorney general amid new questions, prompted by Chicago Sun-Times reports, about whether the money might have been misspent.

The garden was never built. And now state records obtained by the Sun-Times show $65,000 of the grant money went to the wife of Kenny B. Smith, the Obama 2000 congressional campaign volunteer who heads the Chicago Better Housing Association, which was in charge of the project for the blighted South Side neighborhood.

Smith wrote another $20,000 in grant-related checks to K.D. Contractors, a construction company that his wife, Karen D. Smith, created five months after work on the garden was supposed to have begun, records show. K.D. is no longer in business.

Although decried by Chicago mayor Bill Daley, McCain's recent ad about Chicago machine-politics seems to be right on the mark.

All together now, look real surprised.

Dear Amy,

Not a question; just a response:

I just read your column printed in the September 16 issue of my Tribune, and I was appalled to read your answer to the 14-year-old who took disagreement with your stating that chewing gum during the Olympics is rude. I agree with you on the chewing gum matter, but answering a young teen with a snippy "Of course I'm in a position to judge. We all are." has hereby reduced my respect for your advice to nil.

Imagine the courage it takes a youngster to write in to a big newspaper - probably the first time in her life - and then imagine the self-doubt and embarrassment she might feel getting such a coarse response from someone she clearly admires enough to read regularly.

Why would you choose to run your response to this particular question if not to prove to the world how arrogant (or perhaps insecure) you are, that you choose to pick on teenagers publicly? Was the letter bag getting empty? (If so, why you would try to alienate a loyal reader is beyond me.) You had already run your response to the original letter, so running it again, just to get in a dig at a child's expense, is pitiful. Gum-chewing at Olympic medals ceremonies is not a national emergency that requires two separate columns to be addressed. I am equally saddened that the Tribune syndicate offered no editorial guidance for you to tone it down.

If you are still feeling sorry for yourself, feel free to run my letter, with some new snide jabs against me for daring to speak up for a 14-year-old. Maybe it makes you feel better to pick on people who lack the authority of national readership that you have. Just know that we lowly readers still have the power to draw silly mustaches on your picture in our newspapers.

Sincerely,

Daughter Proton

Dear Amy,

Not a question; just a response:

I just read your column printed in the September 16 issue of my Oakland Tribune, and I was appalled to read your answer to the 14-year-old who took disagreement with your stating that chewing gum during the Olympics is rude. I agree with you on the chewing gum matter, but answering a young teen with a snippy "Of course I'm in a position to judge. We all are." has hereby reduced my respect for your advice to nil.

Imagine the courage it takes a youngster to write in to a big newspaper - probably the first time in her life - and then imagine the self-doubt and embarrassment she might feel getting such a coarse response from someone she clearly admires enough to read regularly.

She explained herself very well, citing the fact that she often chews gum during sports to relieve the stresses of competition, and suggested that the Olympians might share her form of anxiety relief. In fact, she explained herself humanly (if not adorably) in admitting this and thereby proposing the radical notion that Olympic athletes aren't all that different than the rest of us - that they may get the jitters during the most important moments of their lives. And you couldn't bother to affirm her ideas - or at least her right to have them - before shooting it down.

Now, what did you disagree with most?

1. Her belief that gum-chewing isn't rude.

2. Her assumption that she has the right to see herself on the same level as celebrity athletes.

3. Her daring to challenge the wisdom of a celebrity advice columnist.

Be honest.

Why would you choose to run your response to this particular question if not to prove to the world how arrogant (or perhaps insecure) you are, that you choose to pick on teenagers publicly? Was the letter bag getting empty? (If so, why you would try to alienate a loyal reader is beyond me.) You had already run your response to the original letter, so running it again, just to get in a dig at a child's expense, is pitiful. Gum-chewing at Olympic medals ceremonies is not a national emergency that requires two separate columns to be addressed. I am equally saddened that the Tribune syndicate offered no editorial guidance for you to tone it down.

If you are still feeling sorry for yourself, feel free to run my letter, with some new snide jabs against me for daring to speak up for a 14-year-old. Maybe it makes you feel better to pick on people who lack the authority of national readership that you have. Just know that we lowly readers still have the power to draw silly mustaches on your picture in our newspapers.

BP's NOTE: This was submitted to Ms. Amy at the Tribune via email today.  After writing the letter, however, my temper has been further piqued, and I added the middle section, from "She explained herself very well" to "Be honest."

I caught up with Purnell at last night's Guardian party at the Radisson Hotel, which was absolutely rammed and attended by everybody from rebel MP Siobhain McDonagh - who didn't seem to hve many people to talk to - to Communication Workers Union general secretary Billy Hayes, and everyone in between. At one point I found a three-way conversation between Alan Rusbridger, Ed Miliband and Ken Livingston's nemesis Andrew Gilligan. Pity I couldn't hear what they were saying.

Anyway, having inadvertently caught Purnell's attention with my trainers (they stuck out in a room full of shiny shoes) I demanded to know: what had happened to his sideburns? The answer surprised me.

While on holiday this summer, it transpires that Purnell grew that most un-Blairite of facial accoutrements, a beard. And when he shaved it off, the sidies went too. A dalliance with Trotskyism? Unlikely. But this will have to go into this week's Tribune diary. One of our regular readers is Beard Liberation Front leader, Trot and incurable letter-writer Keith Flett. He will be delighted to know.

Taken from The New York Daily Tribune, September 7th 1908.

Contrairement à l'affirmation de Monsieur le Maire, ce n'est pas tant l'élection en elle-même que nous avons contestée que la façon d'y parvenir. Nous sommes respectueux de l'expression des électeurs. Toutefois, des règles existent dans notre pays et nous avons considéré que certaines n'avaient pas été respectées. Nous contestons les moyens utilisés pour la campagne électorale qui nous sont apparus en partie illégaux (utilisation du journal municipal pour la promotion du maire et de l' équipe en place, inauguration d'équipements en période électorale, affichage hors temps légal) .L'autorité compétente statuera prochainement.

Nous continuerons à défendre les intérêts des Maurepasiens en général  et plus particulièrement les idées de ceux qui nous ont soutenus et élus et que nous tenons à remercier encore. Nous resterons à leur écoute et au service de tous.

Nous ne voyons pas notre rôle dans une opposition systématique. Nous étudierons les propositions de la majorité et n'hésiterons pas à faire celles qui nous paraissent adaptées et que nous avons défendues durant la campagne.

Nous veillerons scrupuleusement à la légalité des décisions.

Nous regrettons que la majorité en place, soutenue par deux dissidents méprisant leurs électeurs,  nous ait ignorés - voire rejetés - lors de la constitution des commissions en dépit du respect de l'expression démocratique des Maurepasiens. Aussi, c'est en nous exprimant dans le cadre de ce journal mensuel que nous pourrons nous adresser à vous. C'est pourquoi nous avons décidé de nous scinder en plusieurs groupes qui pourront ainsi s'exprimer autant que de besoin dans les mois à venir.

Nous formulons deux vœux pour cette nouvelle mandature :

-l'application d'une réelle démocratie au sein du Conseil Municipal,

-une certaine courtoisie dans les débats et le respect des groupes d'opposition

Merci à tous ceux qui nous soutiennent et bonne rentrée à tous.

WGN-AM Again Target of Obama Campaign

by John McCormick and Steven Schmadeke, updated

Chicago radio station WGN-AM is again coming under attack from the presidential campaign of Sen. Barack Obama for offering airtime to a controversial author.

It is the second time in recent weeks the station has been the target of an "Obama Action Wire" alert to supporters of the Illinois Democrat.

Monday night's target was David Freddoso, who the campaign said was scheduled to be on the station from 9 p.m. to 11 p.m. Chicago time.

"The author of the latest anti-Barack hit book is appearing on WGN Radio in the Chicagoland market tonight, and your help is urgently needed to make sure his baseless lies don't gain credibility," an e-mail sent Monday evening to Obama supporters reads.

"David Freddoso has made a career off dishonest, extreme hate mongering," the message said. "And WGN apparently thinks this card-carrying member of the right-wing smear machine needs a bigger platform for his lies and smears about Barack Obama -- on the public airwaves."

The Tribune-owned station was flooded with calls and e-mails about an hour before an Aug. 27 interview with Stanley Kurtz, a conservative writer who examined Obama's ties to former 1960s radical William Ayers.

A WGN producer said Monday night's response was about the same as when Kurtz was on the station.

http://tinyurl.com/ObamaAttempts2CensorRadio

Although a Vin et Fromage Melee may sound like a tasty appetizer, it's actually quite violent. The Tribune reported some unclassy events going on at the picnic-and-a-show venue, Ravinia, earlier this month:

A dispute over lawn space erupted into a turf war that sent one man to the hospital before a sold-out Donna Summer concert Saturday at the Ravinia Festival in Highland Park, police said.

After setting up their blankets, chairs and a tarp, a group of concertgoers from Arlington Heights left for a restaurant. Returning an hour later, they found their belongings displaced by a Chicago group, which they confronted.

A woman in the Chicago group tried to attack a woman from the returning group, police said. A 40-year-old Chicago man then punched a 49-year-old Arlington Heights man, prompting a wine-and-cheese splattering melee, police said.

The Arlington Heights man was taken by ambulance to Highland Park Hospital, where he received 15 stitches, while the Chicago man was charged with battery.

Sorry Arlington, I think the Chicago Donna Summer Gang is in the right here... you can't just stake claim on a concert lawn, leave for hours and come back and expect it not to be fucked with.  That's just not how it works.

There's also something great about 40-somethings getting in a wine & chees brawl to the disco bliss of Donna Summer.  It's almost surreal.