Um, because I live in Illinois.

Although it may seem silly, I know exactly what this person means: Chicago is not Illinois.

When I write the state on my return address section of envelopes, I�m always struck by this. Illinois is rolling farm land with fields and farms and ponds and other suck-ass po-dunk country crap. Its residents wear denim head-to-toe, and they have a hay sprout between their lips, chewing its end.

The image I have of Illinois folks are more country than the Texans I have in-mind. And having grown up in a Texas town with a population of sub-3,000 where FFA was the largest organization in the school, that�s saying a lot.

In sum, Illinois is crappy.

It doesn�t have world-class restaurants, an awesome lakeside beach, people who live in lofts, amazing architecture, history, the tallest buildings around, and a kick-ass young and hip people party scene.

Women who live in Illinois don�t dye their hair with accompanying highlights and lowlights. They don�t wear strappy little sandals that they bough on-sale but still cost as much as their cable bill including the high speed Internet. They don�t wear Tiffany (even if it is just that new and popular silver mesh ring), and they certainly don�t wear it on their middle or pointer fingers.

Men who live in Illinois don�t buy hair products. They don�t shop at places that have accompanying women�s stores. They don�t learn to cook, as that�s a hobby for the women or �the gays.� They don�t get roommates or drink anything besides beer either. If the shirt buttons up, it�s a flannel.

I don�t live in Illinois. I live in Chicago. �