There were times during the past 30 months when it seemed like the Rod Blagojevich case had slipped down the rabbit hole, falling from the level of deadly serious political corruption to national joke.

That ended at 2:15 p.m. Monday when a jury in U.S. District Court in Chicago returned guilty verdicts on 17 of 20 charges of wire fraud, attempted extortion, bribery and conspiracy against the 54-year-old former Illinois governor.

The first 10 counts on which he was convicted dealt with his epically venal attempt in the fall of 2008 to auction off the U.S. Senate seat vacated by the newly elected president of the United States.

If sentenced to the maximum on all 17 counts — plus one count of lying to the FBI on which he was convicted in his first trial last summer — Blagojevich could face hundreds of years in prison. He surely won't get the maximum; legal experts told the Chicago Sun-Times that 10 years is more likely.

No more jokes about his hair or his language. No more Elvis stories. No more goofball antics on talk shows. No more endless glib talk. The jurors were treated to this side of Blagojevich for seven days as he took the stand in his own defense. They didn't buy it.

In the end, the jurors agreed with Assistant U.S. Attorney Reid Schar, who dismissed Blagojevich's defense with the words, "It's not that he talked too much and it means nothing. It's that he talked a lot and it means everything. This is not a game."

Blagojevich's first trial ended last August with the jury unable to reach a verdict on 22 of 23 counts and complaining that the case was too complicated. This time around, the prosecution team simplified things. Three of the 23 counts from the first trial were dropped, eliminating more than 100 pages of complex jury instructions.

Time and again in the second trial, prosecutors emphasized that the essence of the case was simple: "Did the defendant try to get a personal benefit for himself in exchange for an official act."

The second, more colorful, difference in the two trials was Blagojevich's decision this time around to testify on his own behalf.

He schmoozed, he cracked jokes, he tried to pluck heartstrings, he made fun of himself. He painted a portrait of an ambitious but not very bright polyester-clad working-class kid who made it through college and law school by the skin of his teeth.

His first loyalty, he said, always was to the people who elected him. Oh, sure, maybe his methods and language were rough, but he was always working for the people of Illinois. As to all those tape recordings about deals and money, why, he was merely spitballing.

Even the infamous "(bleep)ing golden" statement about President Barack Obama's Senate seat was about working for the folks, Blagojevich said. It was an attempt to leverage House Speaker Michael Madigan into supporting his legislative agenda in exchange for having his daughter, state Attorney General Lisa Madigan, appointed to the Senate.

In one way, this was a grand exercise in narcissism and self-delusion. In another way, it was the only shot Blagojevich had — to demonstrate that he was a likeable, fast-talking man of the people. He may well have convinced himself of that.

Don't buy it, Assistant U.S. Attorney Carrie Hamilton said on summation. "He is detailed, serious. He is focused. What you heard are the discussions of a sophisticated and very desperate man who tried to get a number of things for himself in relation to his job as governor."

There have been more than 900 24-hour news cycles since Blagojevich was arrested in December 2008. But the prosecutors hung in. And by rejecting his "politics as usual, and besides, I didn't make a dime off it" defense, the jurors affirmed that Americans have a right to demand better.

REPRINTED FROM THE ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH