WHY DO WE NEED MORE JACK ASSES IN CHICAGO WE HAVE ENOUGH THEY KEEP DROPPING LIKE DUNG EVERY OTHER WEEK ?
August 16, 2013 § Leave a comment
Does this idea have a leg to stand on?
Donkey transportation could be made to order for Chicago
Chicago Tribune columnist John Kass proposes a different, safer way of commuting around the city. (Posted on: Aug. 15, 2013)
If there’s one steaming pile of aggravation in our big American cities, it’s that pesky transportation issue.
Government taxes keep gas prices ridiculously high. Cars and bikes are in fierce competition for shrinking driving space. Mayors sucking up to the hipster vote spend millions on bike lanes, while removing car lanes. Yet come winter, the bike lanes are virtually empty, a waste of space and resources.
We have idiotic motorists who drive while texting and refuse to give bicyclists a break. And we have stoner bike people who refuse to obey traffic laws and give you the finger when you beep.
- JOHN KASS
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A blind man could see the bad juju out on our roads.
But I’ve got a solution for safe and sustainable transportation.
If we just get rid of those deadly bikes and carbon-spewing cars, we could ride donkeys.
We’ll ride safely — without ever fear of crashing — commuting to and from work and on to recreational events involving beer.
“If your Mayor Rahm and your city fathers up there didn’t throw a fit about having livestock in the city, it would work just fine,” said Bill Garrett, the famed donkey breeder and rancher from Stilwell, Okla., and owner of Garrett Mammoth Jackstock.
“If the politicians get out of the way, the donkeys would make this work,” he told me.
The donkey is the symbol of Chicago’s political elite. But unlike our aldermen and mayor, most donkeys are nice. And that myth about donkeys being stubborn is a lie. They’re not stubborn. They’re smart. They just won’t take stupid chances.
“They will take up with you and become your best friend if they’re treated properly,” he said. “And if they know they’ll get something free, they’ll line up and be your buddy. Most of our donkeys, a sugar cube, any kind of cookie will do and they will be your loyal friend.”
My favorite part, besides the affection, is the obvious: There will no longer be any need for a designated driver.
You can exit a tavern in the middle of the night, totter over to your donkey, get on its back and he’ll take you home without incident.
You won’t even have to pay attention. Just look at the moon, smile and sing the famed Italian Christmas song “Dominick the Donkey” or any other jaunty tune of your choice.
Donkeys always know the way home. And their clopping gait is soothing.
They’re too smart and sure-footed to crash into each other. You can text and who’ll care? They’re cheap, efficient and reportedly make good watchdogs.
But what about the mess, you ask?
We might burn their leavings as sustainable fuel that’s even more reliable than solar panels. All I need is a White House connection and I’ll be rich.
You sure you can burn their leavings?
“I don’t see why not,” Garrett said. “Back in the old days on the wagon trains, they used to do a lot of cooking in the covered wagons with dried buffalo turds. Or you could fertilize your Chicago parks.”
Garrett’s grandfather was a Jackstock rancher. And Garrett, 67, has been breeding Jackstocks for 40 years. But what the heck is a Jackstock, anyway? “They’re large donkeys,” Garrett said. “You can’t have some little donkey carry you. You’re too big for their back.”
What fascinates me is the famed donkey homing instinct.
In Greece, where my family comes from, and Sicily, where my wife’s family comes from, donkeys are legendary for finding home, even if the owner was plotzed while singing “Dominick the Donkey.”
“I don’t know why they find their way home, that’s just the way they do,” said Garrett. “They know where they’re fed and cared for, warm bed and that kind of thing, and they’ll go home.”
They’re cheaper than a car. All you need to give them is water to drink, a few bales of hay once in a while and a half gallon of grain a day.
“You can get a 50-pound sack for about $9, and that’s a lot cheaper than gas,” he said. “A whole lot cheaper.”
They’ll work hard for years, and when they’re done, perhaps we can make them into stew and sell that as well.
“Never ate one,” he said. “But they are made of meat.”
My donkey idea was met with wild enthusiasm by a couple of guys outside the office who’ve been waiting for me to open a bottle of Jeppson’s Malort after work. But it remains sealed, as I can’t drive home when I’m Malorted and the donkeys haven’t yet arrived.
Only one guy frowned on the donkeys.
“Dang it. Now I’ve got that Italian donkey song in my head, and it’ll be stuck there for days,” he said, meaning “Dominick the Donkey.”
His eyes lost their focus and we could see him listening, internally, a man helpless before the perky lyrics “Jing-a-di-jing/hee haw hee haw/The Italian Christmas Donkey.”
We just let the poor guy stand there as we talked about cashing in on the donkey aftermarket.
One guy came up with a Pimp Your Donkey business. “Donkey leggings, Donkey shirts, hats, LED displays on the back end for signage.”
Another came up with city-licensed Donkey Feeding Stations and other products, “Like donkey doughnut pillows if you have hemorrhoids and have to get home.”
Bill Garrett wasn’t so sure. But the Oklahoma Jackstock breeder still hoped our Chicago politicians might become interested.
“Out here a man’s word is his bond,” he said. “You shake hands on it. Is that how your politicians work in Chicago?”
No, Mr. Garrett.
They’ll kick you when you aren’t looking.
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