Keep the bars open, Dick.

I read this today, and pooped my pants.

Dick Daley wants to close taverns. Did he forget that he's the mayor of CHICAGO?!!! Did he lose his ******* mind?!!! I know I'm about to lose mine.

It's bad enough that yuppie scum are pussifying historic neighborhoods like Wicker Park. But what the hell would Chicago be without its wonderful, wonderful taverns? Don't the millions of fat beer bellies rubbing up on you every time you step on the red line testify to Chicagoans' love for beer?

I love old, dark watering holes. I love cheap jukeboxes that only play Johnny Cash and Roger Miller, where old men in plaid pants fall off of their stools before sunset, old-timers who used to pimp mad hoes the way I pimped mad hoes in the back of Simon's on the love seat by the fake fireplace. I love wood paneling and PBR for a dollar-fifty.

Sadly though, it's the snobby piano bars and meathead sports bars that will remain. Daley says that bars cause littering? GARBAGE causes littering. Why don't we close grocery stores too, I saw a banana peel walking home from work this afternoon. More date rape goes on at Bar Louie than prostitution at any old dive in the city.

Come on, Dick, I mean Mr. Daley. I was looking forward to moving back to that Windy Wonderland on the lake, next summer.