By Mark David Blum, Esq.

Of all the cities in the land of the dollar bill, leave it to Chicago to reinvent and bring back the bad old days. The home of Al Capone seems to have once again made saving lives the role of its police powers.

This time, instead of prohibiting alcohol, the Chicago City Counsel first banned Fois Gras from its’ restaurant menus. Today they announce their intention to ban chickens from the City.

Yes, waging war against chickens and those who desire free range eggs and saving and ducks and geese from the pain of having their fattened livers ground up into finger food for the democratic elite has become social battle #1. Apparently, they have already resolved their issues of homelessness, hunger, jobs, and have a world class educational system and infrastructure.

You know, however, that there are connoisseurs like me who will still always manage to find and enjoy a dab of pate’. Should I ever find myself in Chicago, will I now have to bribe hotel concierges for a lead to the nearest “quack-easy”? If I did, would there be drive-bys by rival catering companies?

Will the chickens make a run at the Sears Towers and bring them to a clucking end?

Instead of Columbian Drug Lords and Middle Eastern Terrorists dominating the evening news, will we be awash in the bloodshed of the new ‘Iron Chef’? Who now will be the Top Chef?

How safe and how watered down with other mixtures will be a schmear of now “black market” goose liver? How expensive will all this be? Will the City provide me a chance for rehab and a switch over to a ‘brie’ lifestyle so as to avoid a lengthy prison sentence?

Things that 'taste like chicken' will be regulated. Anybody eating too much fowl will create probable cause. 'Canard Lines' takes on a whole new meaning.

I could go on.

In fact, I will.

Travelers to Chicago need to be warned that should they be so tempted, that any hors devourers they come across may not be the real thing. Can you tell me if your fois gras is dog liver or perhaps, kitty liver? Or, worse still, should you manage to find the real thing; will you wonder how and in whose intestines the ground up liver was smuggled?

I worry too about the children of Chicago who may get caught in the crossfire. Neighborhoods once quiet and serene will be rife with danger. Will we see strolling herds of chickens clucking their way and flashing their colors? How many Chicagoans are going to die in the cross feathers?

Butchers will move in next door to the crack houses. Neighborhood children will find themselves stepping over the carcasses of de-livered fowl. Blood will be everywhere. Playgrounds will be littered with the remnants of Ritz and Stone Ground crackers. Every off ramp to the Gold Coast will have a young teen souse chef standing there offering grams for sale just so the affluent can party over the weekend.

The City is going to need a Chicken and Liver Zar; someone with the stones to face down even the sharpest of ginzu knives and honed beaks. He will need a trained army (and your tax dollars) so as to infiltrate and eradicate any distributors of the evil pink junk. More prisons will be built, more cops will be hired, and in the end, only the user will suffer. Feathers will fly.

I truly worry about my dear friends who live in the meatpacking capital of the world. They really need to remove their sausage and hamburger filled heads out of their pizza sized butts.

Unfortunately, the lily-livered City Council chickened out to the goose stepping forces of political correctness. Instead of protecting cherished American freedom and soaring with the eagles, the City of Chicago has laid yet another turkey at the feet of the American public.