In which the Sun-Times’s sporting scribe joins the Tribune’s John Kass on the list of Chicago journos most likely to find their cars in a city auto pound by way of tweaking the 11th Ward Democratic organization’s most august personage, Richard Daley II, into shades of purple.

The politics of pay-for-play and skimming and old-fashioned, suspender-snapping, cigar-chomping, big-bellied ”Where’s mine?” clout is so vibrant and alive and grotesquely arrogant here in Chicago that it is very nearly a breathing, slime-dripping creature worthy of a Star Wars-style nuclear assault.

There there must be ramifications for being blatantly corrupt and/or stupid.

There must be.

Put on a sporting display for the world in 2016?

No.

Sorry, all you business and political big shots who are trying to ram this Olympics-are-good-for-you thing down the citizens’ throats.

You blew it.

You didn’t change your appetites, your sloth, your animal dumbness.

Why, just a month ago, Michael Scott, the president of the Chicago Public Schools board, sent an e-mail to all the city’s school principals telling them to raise the Chicago 2016 Olympic flag and start promoting Mayor Daley’s pet project.

Think that’s unbiased?

Think there might not be, uh, ”problems” for reluctant or skeptical principals?

…

I myself will be expecting some kind of tax auditing or car-booting or camera-surveillance for my rebellious views, or, who knows — leg-breakers? — to help me ”understand” the benefits of the Games to our town.

Mayor Daley’s Chicago regime is a joke that plays like an old whoopee cushion.

We won’t even bring up the fact former governor ”Hot Rod” Blagojevich was once an instrumental part of Chicago’s 2016 Games bid. If there was more clown greasepaint that his family could put on, it would need a face the size of a billboard to do it.

Former Illinois first lady Patti Blagojevich is on a reality TV show — because her gerbil-cheeked, heavily-indicted husband was forbidden by the law to be on it — eating bugs and being humiliated and semi-tortured for cash.

No stranger to the cigar-smoke-filled backroom himself, Telander’s 1994 thoughts on the unsustainability of the Gin Blossoms, Nirvana and Darryl Strawberry can be found here.