From da desk of Mike Nort, C.R.I.
(Dose initials mean Chicago Radio Icon, for dose of yous not familiar wit da designation. I will hencefort be addin' it to my name on all official correspondence.)
Date: Janyooary da seventeent, two tousan' an' eight

For Immediate Release

I just wanna tank all da fine peepuls of the Blackhawks organization for da great honor dey gave me las' night. To receive da very same honor dat in a few short weeks will also be bestowed upon da likes of radio giants like an Eric an' Kathy an' a Spikes O'Dell (who by da way, got his gig only becuz dat udder guy, Bob Collins, tought he could fly a plane, but reely couldn't) is sometin' dat I'll never forget, nor will my listeners (because I'm gonna keep on remindin' dem of it all da time).

It's very gratifyin' for me to be honored dis way because I grew up on da streets and never tought I could succeed like dis. But against all odds, I have proven da critics wrong over and over again. When I went to mornin's and wanted to talk more politics, dey said it wouldn't work . . . OK, bad example . . . when I hired an Annie Maxwell, or whatever her name was, dey said it was a bad idea . . . OK, wait, dat didn't turn out so good neither . . . when some said da Score was gamblin' too much money on me an' dat I probly couldn't even consistently beat a nationally-syndicated show on ESPN, I . . .uh . . . well, whatever, yous get da idea.

So, again, tanks to da Hawks an' my mudder an' Fred an' Jen an' my kids from Notre Dame who were dere for dis great night an' God bless you all an' God bless President Bush (who I met da udder day, did yous know dat?) an' dis great country where a foul-mout, racist, high school dropout like me could get a job coachin' da youts of today and teachin' dem about life. Only in America.