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Lake Geneva in advanced talks to relocate
itself to Arlington Heights
Tourist wearingThrifted Nvidia Sweatshirt Sparks Hours-Long Chase by Desperate Downtown Leasing Brokers.
Chicago’s leasing community gave new meaning to the phrase “active lead” this week after a tourist in a thrifted Nvidia sweatshirt was chased through the Loop by brokers convinced she was scouting space for the trillion-dollar chipmaker. Witnesses said the woman, visiting from Iowa, had simply purchased the sweatshirt at a Goodwill store on Washington Boulevard before heading downtown in search of the long-shuttered Sears on State Street.
Instead, she found herself surrounded by sharply dressed brokers waving glossy marketing flyers and shouting about tenant improvement allowances, free rent concessions, and “move-in ready, amenity-rich innovation hubs.” Despite her repeated explanations that she worked in Allstate Insurance's claims department, not artificial intelligence, brokers insisted she was “clearly downplaying her role” in Nvidia’s global expansion strategy. The pursuit reportedly stretched across several blocks, from LaSalle Street to the Palmer House valet desk. Ironically, not far from the old Sears Department Store.
Market analysts said the episode illustrates the mounting strain of Chicago’s record-high office vacancy rate. “In this environment, a thrifted sweatshirt is a hotter lead than a cold call,” CBRE broker Mitch Adams remarked. The tourist was eventually rescued by police, shaken but unharmed. “I was just looking for Sears,” she told reporters. “Now I know why everyone shops online.”
STRAINS CHICAGO BUSINESS
A STRAINED FAMILY BRAND
Saint Fritz of Iscariot, the guy who betrayed nice folks like Chicagoans, and enjoyed it. Definitely not going to Heaven.
Cook County Democrats Finally Realize Strangling the Tax Base Might Be Bad Politics
In a long-overdue act of political triage, the Cook County Democratic Party has yanked its support from Assessor Fritz Kaegi, whose crusade for tax fairness has left a trash heap of vacant buildings, decimated valuations, and institutional investors shunning Illinois like it's Detroit.
Instead, the party is backing Patrick Hynes—a man whose core appeal appears to be that he doesn’t treat every underperforming office building like a Midtown Manhattan cash cow. “Kaegi may have been right on paper,” said one party insider, “but it turns out you probably shouldn't collect taxes on properties you’ve just driven into foreclosure.”
For commercial real estate owners still paying full freight on half-empty buildings, the news landed like a cautious “high-five”. “It’s about damn time,” said a River North landlord who asked to remain anonymous so their lender wouldn’t know they’re still alive. “We’ve been underwriting taxes like they’re ransom demands for your favorite child. At this point I’d rather lease space to a drunken Romanian circus troop than try to explain Kaegi’s methodology to another investor.” Vacancy-adjusted value? Unrecognized Transaction comps? For years, the only certainty has been uncertainty—and a soul crushing tax bill that felt more like water-boarding than policy.
Fritz Kaegi’s romantic delusion that everything has hidden value didn’t start in public office—it started behind a row of used cars at Campus Motors. His old boss, who still winces at the memory, recalls: “The kid saw hidden value in everything. He’d swear a dented Toyota Corolla was a ‘heritage mileage edition’ and somehow get someone to buy it. Cars came back all the time. But he never stopped pitching. Eventually, we had to let him go.”
As a Boy Scout, Fritz once gave a troop presentation on his sand collection—dozens of meticulously labeled jars of sand from playgrounds, parking lots, and a Little League dugout. “He said they were ‘ancient deposits of historical relevance,’” his Scoutmaster recalled. “It was gravel. He was dead serious.”
While Assessor Fritz Kaegi has become the public face of property tax misery, the real culprit is Governor Pritzker—chief steward of Illinois’ pension inferno and architect of the state’s favorite fiscal strategy: raise property taxes until the building owners go bankrupt. With billions in pension promises and nowhere near the money to pay them, Pritzker keeps feeding the fire while pretending Kaegi lit the match.
Now, in a dazzling act of political jiu-jitsu, Pritzker has floated the idea of investing Kaegi’s entire pension in a boarded-up State Street retail property—just so the assessor can personally experience the tax death-spiral he helped create. When asked for comment, the governor was busy removing 23 toilets from his newly purchased “one-bedroom” penthouse condominium.
The Democratic Party seems to have finally noticed—whether it’s too late to repair investor trust is another story entirely.
Steppenwolf Theatre Tapped to Transform Broken Campaign Promises Into Oscar-Worthy Budget Drama
Facing a $1.1 billion budget shortfall and a mounting credibility gap, Mayor Brandon Johnson and Chicago’s City Council have enlisted Steppenwolf Theatre Company to provide high-level coaching on how to sell a property tax hike as an act of courageous leadership—rather than a breach of public trust.
After months of categorical denials—“There will be no property tax increase”—the administration is preparing for a dramatic pivot. To help soften the blow, Steppenwolf has been brought in to teach the fine art of performative sincerity.
CHICAGO — As the city braces for yet another property tax hike, City Hall has taken a novel step to address certain public infuriation—not by balancing the budget, but by sharpening their performance chops.
Mayor Johnson, who recently denied plans for a tax increase, is widely expected to reverse course completely in the coming months as the city confronts a rather large budget shortfall, exacerbated by rising pension obligations, expiring federal relief funds, and declining commercial property revenues.
According to sources close to the Mayor’s Office, Steppenwolf Theatre Company has been quietly hired to coach city leaders in the art of appearing emotionally devastated while passing unpopular legislation year after year.
The partnership, described in internal memos as a “narrative engagement consultancy,” aims to prepare Mayor Brandon Johnson and select City Council members for what one aide described as “an emotionally complex role with hostile audience interaction.”
According to insiders, the working draft of the city’s budget presentation is already being rehearsed under lock and key in the council chamber, after everybody goes home at 3 PM. Final production is rumored to be a one or two-act civic tragedy, complete with original music and interpretive dance.
According to early stage notes, the show opens with Mayor Johnson at center stage, softly lit, passionately pledging never to raise taxes. Behind him, council members form a dimly lit chorus, murmuring a solemn refrain: “Never, Never, Never!” As the song builds, the mayor quietly exits, returning in dancer’s tights, launching into a tortured interpretive dance solo to symbolize internal budgetary conflict. He twirls, collapses, leaps, and stares into the middle distance muttering incoherently.
Meanwhile, the council choir enters a synchronized desk-slamming routine, chanting their commitment to fiscal restraint while slowly joining the mayor in a unified modern dance experience.
"The tax payers are going to be furious predicts some who've seen the Mayor's performance in rehearsals. Chicago voters, already carrying the highest effective property tax rates in the country, may not be in the mood for dramatic nuance.