Out of towners often ask me how it is that folks in Chicago and Illinois put up with all the hanky and panky that goes on in our political snakepits.

I tell them about my cat litter box.

Currently I have two cats—once I had nine. In any case, I used to think I kept their potty clean and odor free. Then, every so often someone would come to the door, sniff the air and whisper in confidence, “I think your cat box needs changing.”

They were right, of course. They came from cat-free environments and could sense a drop of urine at 30 paces, while I had grown so desensitized to the aroma that my schnozz would tell me I was romping through a fresh pine forest.

So it is with the denizens of our city and state. Once a guy named Capone ran things here. They put him in the slammer and turned things over to a machine that was merely dollar-corrupt and didn’t beat anybody up, let alone kill him, unless it was absolutely necessary. Mostly on Election Day.

So through the years we’ve seen a lot of vote buying, bribery, real estate “deals,” aggressive fund-raising, strange awardings of jobs and contracts, dolings out of legal services, road paving and construction work, lucrative bond issues, phony minority set-asides and what have you. When you get into the really big money swaps it is called “pay to play” or “pinstripe patronage.”

There are scads of ways to make money off of government, and both parties conspire to make the most of it.

Few seem to care because the stench of the cat boxes in Chicago’s City Hall and throughout Springfield has been so high for so long that no one sniffs any ammonia in the air except a few editorial writers, some sharp columnists and savvy reporters—plus assorted good government types known here as “goo-goos.”

Three out of the last five elected governors spent time in a federally sponsored resort. Yawn. Ditto thirty percent of the Chicago City Council. Ho hum.

Then comes the news that finally explodes the Springfield litter box: Gov. Rod Blagojevich, the first Democrat elected since 1972, gets arrested one rainy December morning for trying to auction Barack Obama’s U.S. Senate seat to the highest bidder.

I think this is a first for Illinois in itself, but the back-story makes it totally astounding, because Blago, as he is known here, has been under federal scrutiny for other high crimes and misdemeanors for at least three years. One of his top two fundraisers—guy named Tony Rezko—is already enjoying a federal vacation and the other big money guy is waiting for the hammer to drop.

Picture this: A guy under federal scrutiny, undoubtedly surrounded by more wires than your local bookie, talks openly on the phone with a young deputy governor about how valuable the senate seat is and how much moolah he can rake in by peddling it to some big-bucks outfit. Otherwise, threatens Blago, he’ll just appoint himself!

Is this madness? Is it a new definition of chutzpah? Is it perhaps, uh, chemically induced?

Blago figures he can trade the seat for a big money job at a nonprofit foundation. Yes, it would surely be nonprofit once he was done with it! And he also wants a big corporate board job paying $150,000 for his wife.

Maybe, he figures, he could get appointed U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services.

We enter the mind of a raving sociopath.

But wait—there’s more. The Tribune Co. is trying to raise cash by selling off Wrigley Field and needs state help. Blago suggests that perhaps the state might come through if the Trib fires a couple of editorial writers who have said nasty things about Blago himself.

This, too, is a criminal misuse of state funds.

With all this going on—right up to the moment of his arrest—Blago was planning to run for re-election. Perhaps he believes he has a tinfoil hat somewhere that protects him from all evildoers who carry federal badges.

Capone’s St. Valentine’s Day Massacre took place a couple of blocks from where I live now. It’s a senior citizen home these days.

I missed the massacre, but I lived through the era of the old secretary of state who died in office with shoeboxes full of money. What a piker. If he were a Chicago lawyer he would have stepped into a two or three million dollar per year gig without taking a breath.

I’ve seen a couple of precinct captains pull out guns at the end of the voting day, chase the poll watchers away and fill out the voter report without bothering to count the ballots. They were pikers too.

Now that I’ve seen Rod Blagojevich, I think I’ve seen it all. He’s no piker. He’s just plain nuts.

And to think I voted for him once. That was enough. I voted Green the next time out. Come to think of it, he should run on that ticket.

It’s the color of money.

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Don Rose is a regular contributor to the Chicago Daily Observer