* A not-so-friendly note to the national media: When interviewing Rod Blagojevich, instead of asking him about his hair, or his feelings or even the US Senate seat, ask him about how he held up state funds for children’s hospitals so that he could shake down one hospital exec for a gigantic campaign contribution.

And, for crying out loud, this is just nuts…

Blagojevich said that after he is vindicated he is “not ruling myself out or writing myself off as getting back in the business of serving the public.”

Because he was removed from office by the Senate, Blagojevich is now prohibited from running for any state office in Illinois forever. Sure, he could run for a federal office, but nobody here would vote for him. At least, not as long as blood flows through these veins of mine. He’d have to move to another state. Or another country. Maybe Serbia. Yeah. That’s it.

I love the New Yorker, mainly for high falutin’ passages like these…

And yet no sun can melt Blago’s coif, which, despite his many troubles, descends like a silken espresso curtain and then swerves suddenly to the side, revealing a gaze most innocent.

But that sentence is as hollow as Blagojevich’s personality. It means absolutely nothing. Window dressing.

Get a clue, people.

* This conversations now seems like eons ago. But it was just two years ago that Blagojevich and I had this talk. From my syndicated newspaper column…

A couple of years ago, Rod Blagojevich told me during a private conversation that all the talk about how close he supposedly was to indicted fundraiser Antoin “Tony” Rezko was just that. Talk.

Ah, but Christopher Kelly, Blagojevich said, now that’s a real friend, a close friend, a confidante. Blagojevich said he genuinely admired Kelly on multiple levels - his success in business, his family, his abilities to judge people and his uncanny knowledge of all things sports. The two men talked almost every day, Blagojevich said, sometimes several times a day. He said it seemed like he was as close to Kelly as he’d once been to his own brother.

Blagojevich said at the time that he was certain Kelly never would be indicted.

But what if Kelly was popped, I asked, pointing out that the governor’s buddy had been mentioned several times in Rezko’s indictment. If Kelly is so close to you, wouldn’t his indictment mean the U.S. attorney was working his way up the ladder to get the guy at the top? After all, I pointed out, the old saying, “If the feds want you, they’ll get you,” isn’t too far from the truth.

I’ve rarely seen such a dark cloud move so quickly over someone’s demeanor. Blagojevich’s smile suddenly vanished from his face, replaced with what looked almost like a haunted expression.

He had been sitting straight upright, but then Blagojevich’s shoulders hunched forward, his head dropped, and he looked downward and to the right, rested his forearm on his leg, took a few deep breaths and finally said, “If it happens, I’ll have to deal with it then.”

It seemed to me at the time that Blagojevich never had really talked about this subject with anyone. He may have given it some thought, but he didn’t appear to have yet fully intellectualized the dire situation he was in. That Kelly question led to several others, of both him and his wife, about what they had managed to do to themselves. More on that another time. Suffice it to say that it was an all-around emotionally draining day.

Kelly was indicted on tax fraud charges just a few months after my uncomfortable conversation with Blagojevich. So much for Blagojevich’s certainty.

Kelly apparently had used his computer-like brain to make millions of dollars in sports bets and then hid the profits from the Internal Revenue Service, as well as the money-moving to cover his debts. Several months later, with the feds in full pursuit of Kelly, Blagojevich replaced his old friend at the campaign with his biological brother Rob, who was brought in to handle the finances.

One brother out, another brother in. This time, though, Blagojevich chose “real” blood. The kind of blood that one can be sure doesn’t talk to government investigators. Turns out, he didn’t need to worry.

Kelly pleaded guilty to the IRS charges in January, then was indicted a month later on an O’Hare International Airport bid-rigging scheme. Two months after that, he was indicted as part of the charges brought against Rod Blagojevich and Blagojevich’s brother. According to that indictment, Kelly, Blagojevich and others had schemed since the first 2002 campaign to use the governor’s office to pad their pockets.

It was clear as day that the feds were squeezing Kelly for all he was worth to get him to talk about how he ran Blagojevich’s inner circle and how he and his co-defendants had used the governor’s office to enrich themselves, Blagojevich’s campaign fund and Blagojevich’s family.

The federal case against Blagojevich would receive a gigantic boost if Kelly cooperated. Kelly talked to them about it a for a while in May, then stopped. He was sentenced for the IRS plea in June, then pleaded out of the O’Hare contracting charge two weeks ago. He was scheduled to report to prison Friday, but died early the previous Saturday of a reported drug overdose.

“This is tragic,” a distraught Kelly family friend told me shortly after the news broke that Kelly apparently had committed suicide. “Rod does not deserve this kind of loyalty.”

He most certainly doesn’t.

* Related…

* Does government have Kelly’s blood on its hands?: “The pressure comes not from the U.S. attorney. The pressure comes from Kelly having committed the crimes and there being a way to reduce his sentence by cooperating,” Safer said. “Patrick Fitzgerald doesn’t create that pressure. Chris Kelly creates that pressure. Fitzgerald gives him an opportunity that he can exercise or not.”