Chicago is a very funny city.
In fact, it is a windswept glacial burg that is the source of a never-ending supply of knee-slappers and outright horselaughs.
From the neophyte community organizer that it foisted on an unsuspecting American electorate to the mop-topped sociopathic boy-Governor that it sent to the Letterman show, to its storied depression era, tommy-gun toting philanthropists, it has produced some truly amusing and amazing characters.
It has a Mayor who is a former ballet dancer, who served in a foreign army and who threatens political enemies by sending them dead fish in the mail. It has 50 sleepy Alderman and 5, usually somnolent professional sports franchises
It has two Jesse Jacksons!
It has more potholes per capita than Nairobi, a creaky 1940s-era elevated train system and cops who get caught on videotape punching out bar maids and businessmen.
I am only going to report and comment on what actually happens in Chicago. To make up stuff this weird would tax my inventive capabilities to the limit (or at least as high as the, highest-in-the-nation, Cook County sales taxes.)