Let's be the City of Chicago!

I'm the hordes of Instagram influencers collected around the Anish Kapoor "Cloud Gate" sculpture.

I'm Leslie-Ann Warren, singing the city's praises while slapping my ass.

I'm the two liquid tons of green food coloring poured into the river every St. Patrick's Day.

I'm the two liquid tons of suburban teenage vomit poured into the sidewalks every St. Patrick's Day.

It's El train shortened from "elevated train.

I'm the insufferable doys town guys.

I’m the Shamrock Shuffle. As I do every year, I will put 30,000 participants on the downtown streets on March 24, 2024. I can only hope for the locals’ sake that Uber, Lyft, the CTA, and O’Hare can get them back out of here promptly. I don’t even want to think about what will happen in the hot dog and pizza places near me!

I'm the astonishing murder rate.

Then and now.

I'm all of the toddling.

I’m the armed juvenile carjacking thugZ who run rampant on Chicago streets because I know I won’t face any consequences for my actions.

I'm Holabird & Roche.

Although my exquisitely attenuated steel-cage architectural designs set the tone for modern architecture internationally, Burnham & Root and Adler & Sullivan get all the credit.

I'm Mrs. O'Leary's cow.

Although I get blamed for starting the Great Fire of 1971 by kicking over a lantern, it was most likely a man stealing my milk who left his tallow candle behind who was the culprit.

I was also the first of 250-340 victims of the fire.

I'm the Picasso. I'm either an abstracted portrait of his most lusted-after female model or a stylized sculpture of his beloved afghan hound.

I’m State Street, that great street.

I'm...Cicero.

I’m the dried blood on the sidewalk.

I am The Weiner’s Circle, the single most foul-mouthed in-your-face hot dog place ever to be found on this earth.

I am the museum scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

I am the first time anyone actually films the interior and collections of the Art Institute of Chicago.

And I represent the first school trip of the young children - and the last school trip of the three main characters.

I’m Naperville, 30 miles away but I tell everyone I’m still a part of you.

I'm the crime.

I’m Lower Wacker Drive. Every movie or TV show must include a scene using me.

I'm...

I had the sexiest mayor in history. You know I mean

R22. Who me?

I'm Frank Lloyd Wright, lurking in the suburbs.

Grandpa!

Can I be The Devil in the White City?

I’m John Hughes filming around the North Shore.

I'm da sport peppahs on ya hot dog.

I'm the night Chicago died. When a man named Al Capone tried to make that town his own. And he called his gang to war with the forces of the law. You should have heard my mama cry.

I’m the best Chicago pizza and it’s like no one really knows where I am. Everybody talks about me, lots of people put me down, compare me to New York. I’m in the neighborhood, or used to be, is what some of them say. Others might mention their Uncle Sal or that place that closed.

I’m the Keyser Soze of culinary marvels. Jon Stewart called me a casserole!

I'm Lori Lightfoot's forehead.

I'm the Second City — ostensibly a theater but really an expensive class-taking machine for SNL hopefuls.

The chances of getting on my stage are roughly the same as those of a pickup basketball kid who ends up playing for the Lakers.

r3, I always wonder how that is environmentally-friendly. They claim it is fine for the fish.

I’m that Free and easy town, brassy, breezy town. No, wait, I’m a town so smart it's spelling starts with C- H - I - C... Chic!….

I'm the formerly glamorous Marshall Field taking up a whole square block of downtown.

Now I'm a Macy's that feels like a JC Penney's, and tumbleweeds roll my empty marble corridors.

I'm everyone's favorite summertime game: "Fireworks or Gunshots?"

I'm the Tiffany mosaics at Marshall Fields (now Macy's).

Please be impressed by me.

Please.

I'm a box of Frango Mints.

I’m Lake Michigan. Chicago is the pimple on my backside.

I’m the city’s sportsball team, the White Cub Hawk Bulls.

I'm...

I'm Steamworks, and the most bitter cunts in the universe work my front desk. They make even the most sour DLer seem like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.

I'm Garfield conservatory. I'm stunning and free to enter.

Moo

Boston is London, N'Orleans is France!

New York is anyone's for ten cents a dance!

But that great big town on that great lake

Is America's first, and America's great

Chicago!

I’m the guy who tells, “Where?”, energizing Judy’s performance of Chicago, closing her Carnegie Hall show.

I’m the word Ted Baxter mispronounced on the pilot episode of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show”.

I’m the flatness of the land.

I’m in WAAAAAY over my head.

In Albany Park, can you get Korean Food, get shot and see pigeons.

I’m Section 8. My vouchers destroyed the middle class black neighborhood on the South Side by populating the with former project residents.

Meanwhile those people moved to Dalton, where the mayor thinks she’s Queen of the Southland.

Following on r28, I'm da jardineer.

I’m the gorillas in the Lincoln Park zoo. I’m adorable.

I'm the lie that Chicago is where it because of the river. They wanted to put it where the Calumet River hits the lake, but Indiana refused to pay any money for the canal, because they were betting on the Maumee-Wabash canal at Fort Wayne, so Illinois moved their canal up to the Chicago river to deprive Indiana of development. It worked. NW Indiana didn't urbanize until 1900 by which time Chicago had engrossed 90% of the trade.

I’m the giant chip on my shoulder about NYC.

I'm all the jeering at Toronto.

I’m the hundreds of napkins tossed in the air at Sidetrack on show tune Sundays as Don’t Cry For Me Argentina crescendos.

It’s a vegetable dye, R33, and it’s gorgeous.

Canal? What canal?

I'm Beth Jarret doing some much-needed retail therapy downtown after learning that Conrad's therapist is a Jew.

It's been a number of years R58, but doesn't that bit happen during Sail On (Titanic)?

R11 Actually, the current conventional wisdom is that sparks from a meteor shower and/or storm may have started the fire in Chicago as well as a large fire in WI on the same evening.

I'm Mashall Field's, and the numerous prisspots who stood up for its name!

They are fighting for a Macy’s to pretend it’s still Marshall Field’s

^that’s a question.

Yup, meanwhile department stores are all but dead no matter the name....

We met at the Pump Room, Ambassador East, to say the least

On shish-kabob and breast of squab we will feast and get fleeced

Don't tell me sin is rampant and rife

Think of that man who ran for his life

Chicago, your home town.

I'm Steve Dahl at disco demolition night July 12 1979, Comisky Park!

Let’s not.

I just looked up the canal. It’s a glorified sewer! How appropriate.

R62- it happens during both numbers. Clean up is a bitch.

I’m the plague researcher and his Brit bus driver hookup doing a thrill kill.

I'm Martin Amis, cunting about Chicago like a cunt.

Cunt cunt cunt, I say, cocking my snook at all this ghastly Modernism.

I'm the Metro, which hosted so many great bands since 1982. After you dance your ass off until daybreak, then I'm Ann Sather's, where you can get your Swedish pancakes to fill your soul.

I'm Louis Sullivan.

Frank, you bootleg house-building bitch, you broke my heart.

Thanks for the interesting history lesson, R55.

In my younger days I used to call Chicago a big, cheap, Midwestern imitation of New York.

"I’m the giant chip on my shoulder about NYC."

I'm the person who lived there for 20 years and never once saw any evidence of this.

I would love to be a Chicago speakeasy but I think I missed my time.

I’m Garrett’s Chicago Mix popcorn. I am ridiculously addictive.

I'm the Wrigleyville Cumdump!

However, I have been eclipsed in popularity by another hole.....

and I am Our Lady of the Underpass

I am the sheer number of fuckable men in Chicago.

The nearby farming states send all of their beef to me!

I'm...

Nighthawks

I'm Alexi Giannoulias, the IL Secretary of State.

I'm delicious.

I'm part of the soundtrack of the city

I'm the sense of inferiority because I'm not New York City.

R87, Toronto!

So nice of you to stop by.

[quote] I'm the person who lived there for 20 years and never once saw any evidence of this.

Yes. They love to be called Second City. Especially when they’re third or fourth.

I'm human meat fart and ultraMAGA Mike Ditka, still worshiped by a great deal of straight Chicago men.

I'm hideous inside and out. And my wife looks like a dyke.

I'm Narcissa Niblick (Mrs. James Ward) Thone's exquisite collection of miniature rooms.

I was created under Miss Niblick (Mrs Ward Thorne)'s exacting specifications by no less than 80 architects and artisans over a thirty-year period.

I have my own wing at the Art Institute of Chicago.

I am worth a trip.

I am the Diversey Rocks, where many a load has been splattered over the years....

I'm the Trump Hotel and Tower, now a favorite tourist selfie spot to give the middle finger.

I’m a Chicago window.

I'm ugly brown Chicago common brick, which is a shame because the natural yellow limestone there is actually quite attractive.

I’m the glorious lack of any lesbian community.

Really? The mayor was a lesbian.

Chicago has the best infrastructure of any city in the nation, mainly because the people who built it in the 1850s were exceptionally smart, something not found anywhere else in American city building.

R97, they were so smart in the 1850s that it burned to the fucking ground in 1871.

All cities burned in olden times.

Today's Chicagoans seem like midgets in shoes that are too big for them.

I am Nookie's, known for terrible food and hot waiters.

I’m the unasked-for banana next to your eggs at the Melrose.

I'm the downstairs at Unabridged, ostensibly filled with travel books......I'm as cruisy as the cock, I mean the day is long.

I’m Lori Lightfoot’s men’s pinstriped suit

I’m a full floor of THE best building in Chicago.

I’m Lori Lightfoot’s too long pants!

I'm the hot hairy jogger running shirtless in winter.

I'm the glorious ribs, burgers and onion rings at the Twin Anchors tavern in Old Town.

I'm the Bijou Theater. I'm covered in layers upon layers of nacreous permacum.

R101 The Melrose closed in 2017.

I’m ketchup on a hotdog.

Isn’t steppenwolf in Chicago? Why haven’t you bitches mentioned me?

R111 Because it's generally relentlessly hetero at The 'Wolf.

I'd sooner mention Hell in a Handbag, the great parody/comedy troupe that does funny, gay themed stuff like Christmas Dearest (yes, A Christmas Story mashed with Mommie Dearest).

I'm the front seat of the Chicago cop cruiser.

The sacred spot where a hot Polish daddy cop fucked my face years ago.