There’s a new boss in the Land o’ Lincoln, and his name is Governor Patrick Quinn. Former Governor Rod Blagojevich can’t be too happy about this turn of events, having insisted time and time again that he never did anything wrong, even though everyone, even him, knew this to be a gross distortion of the facts. After a four-day impeachment trial – which Blago called illegitimate, trashed on national television, then rushed to to argue his case in an hour-long statement as proceedings neared their end – the Illinois Senate voted 59-0 to remove him from office. He’ll miss the oh-so-abuseable power – indeed, post-impeachment he can’t so much as serve on a school board in Illinois. How will he extort people?
Still, what galls Rod Blagojevich the most isn’t the absence of the tingly, corrupting influence of power. The root of his greatest angst is this: he knows now that he’s been kicked to the curb and no longer represents a direct threat to the Democratic establishment, people won’t pay attention to him like they used to. Oh, he’ll get brief mentions on news and opinion programming during his criminal trial, and a final sendoff after sentencing, but his real moment in the spotlight is over. Before his arrest on federal corruption charges in early December 2008, most Americans couldn’t pronounce his name, let alone tell you he was governor of Illinois. After, he was the talk of the nation, each ridiculous stunt only pushing him to greater levels of visibility.
Fame is intoxicating, more than ruling one-fiftieth of a nation, more than threatening childrens hospitals, more than breaking the law, more than reading Alfred Lord Tennyson to a captive audience. Soon, no one but his wife, his daughters, his warden and his cellmate will pay any notice to Milorad, and that fate, above all others, is the cruelest punishment imaginable for being caught running his state like a mafia don.
