My imagination > Rick Morrissey's idea of my imagination

Someone wake me up when Rick Morrissey's column makes sense:

Imagine the uproar in town if Kyle Orton demanded to be traded at the first whisper the Bears were considering sending him to another team.

Your imagination is spot on: Orton would be the subject of a million different violent fantasies, all of them ending in his bloody demise. Being dragged through the streets of Chicago by the team bus would probably lead the voting.

Look, Chicago fans already ran out of town a quarterback who has thrown 33 touchdowns and 35 interceptions. What's the big deal if they wanted to toss a signal caller who is only marginally better?

In fact, if Orton demanded a trade, I'd be willing to do the following ... courtesy of my imagination:
It all begins with yours truly consoling Orton at a local drinking establishment, because no quarterback should be forced to perform in Ron Turner's allergic-to-scoring offense. After a few shots of Orton's favorite beverage, a man named "Dirty" says he's got some sort of juice that helps you bat 1.000 ... whatever that means. Orton has sooo much to drink, he passes out on the street corner awaiting a cab. Strategically, I placed a piece of cardboard and a sharpie in my back pocket and wrote on the cardboard "Detroit or bust!" as a desperate Jim Schwartz picks Orton off the curb and yells "Next stop, Ford Field."

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