Category: council review

#32: Lebanon, IN 6/27/16

We are burning through Lebanons like beer cans on a bonfire. Our second stop on the whirlwind Lebanon tour is Indiana, where someone at city hall is a virtuoso with video graphics.

“First order of business will be the, uh, Pledge of Allegiance,” Mayor Matt Gentry announced, before being upstaged by a rippling animation of Old Glory.

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I pledge allegiance to the–wait, what’s happening to the mayor? Oh, god! It’s coming for him! Run, your honor! The humanity! Oh, the human–there he is again! With liberty and justice for all.

It’s tough to follow a screen-wiping flag, but one hotshot developer in a blue button-up sure tried. “There is, was, and still is a demand for nicer rental housing in downtown Lebanon. We’re dealing with a lot of young professionals. That is the kind of lifestyle they’re looking for.”

Yes, I bet many young professionals yearn to move to Lebanon, Indiana for the famous [look up something to put here] and the legendary [don’t forget to write something].

Youthful Councilor Corey Kutz wanted to know how the monied classes were living in Lebanon’s rival city. “What did the amenities look like? I know they’re maybe fetching $1,000 [per apartment] in Zionsville, but are they getting a pool? Are they getting a gym?”

The developer waved off the Z-town envy. “We’re in ‘downtown.’ We’re not sitting out in a corn field,” he slammed Zionsville, which is a puny little burg known only for [find literally anything interesting]. “We’ve got a historic gymnasium. You can’t compete with that!”

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Councilor Corey Kutz: “What about massage parlors with full release? Does Zionsville have those?”

But sadly, Lebanon has a dark, noisy underbelly.

“I am Lebanon resident,” a bearded public commenter addressed councilors. “Grew up here, very proud of our community. And the two things I always brag is: we’re very neighborly and we LOVE the Fourth of July. We celebrate like no other city in central Indiana.” Yeah, shove that up your tailpipe, Zionsville!

But when you love something too much, sometimes the relationship turns ugly. “Saturday night, I sat up until 11:45 listening to what sounded like cannon shots right outside my bedroom window.”

And did he take this lying down? F*ck no. “I started looking into the ordinances,” this proud Lebanoner announced. “I found one that was passed in 1875 and it specifically mentions fireworks. It says they’re only to be set off on four days: July 4, Christmas, January 1, and Presidents Day.”

Councilor Kutz was kutzcerned. “Indianapolis just updated theirs [ordinance]. We could use a revamp on that….I don’t think it’ll happen before the fourth though.”

“I’m not trying to be a party pooper,” the commenter protested.

The role of party pooper went instead to the police chief, who stepped up to the mic.

“If it was up to me, there’d be no bass speakers, no dogs, and no fireworks allowed in the city, period.” The room erupted in laughter, but the chief looked as serious as a funeral. “I’d ban everything. Make it all quiet.”

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More like Chief Buzzkill

Final thoughts: If the chief has his way, maybe Lebanon will at last have a cool factoid to its name: the quietest city in central Indiana.

#31: Seattle, WA 6/20/16

Seattle’s city council met at two o’clock in the afternoon–yet some council members in this java addicted burg were clearly in need of caffeination. Others, however, came out of the shoot ready to kick ass and read names.

In the latter category, Councilmember Sally Bagshaw hit a one-two punch on a tongue-twister proclamation: “I want to announce that June 20, 2016 is Facioscapulohumeral Muscular Dystrophy Awareness Day,” she said, not even slowing for the monster nine-syllable word.

“The core problem stems from genetic disturbance in the DUX4. DUX4 is a coding protein gene located in the D4/Z4 repeat array in the subtelomeric region of the chromosome 4q.” The brainy councilwoman peered smugly over her notes.

“I know all of you know what that means,” she winked. The room chuckled in bewilderment.

Council President Bruce Harrell had a less mind-numbing award to bestow. “We’re gonna honor the women’s golf team that has brought pride to this state and made national history–” he looked up and saw the University of Washington’s golf coach cradling a massive trophy.

“Wow. Look at that hardware.” The president remained as emotionless as an Easter Island statue, but he couldn’t stop staring at the golden prize…or calling it “hardware.” (“The hardware speaks for itself,” he murmured.)

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Nice hardware! And the trophy ain’t bad either–zing!

The council heard public comment from Tyrone, dressed head to toe in silver and looking like a backup dancer in an ABBA music video. “We have did so many damaging thing to foreigner peoples in other lands. We have took land and stole land,” he read haltingly, perhaps unaware that the city council has tragically little jurisdiction over foreigner peoples.

“You’re not sharing the REAL wealth–” he shouted before something unusual happened: his mic was cut. Not because he said the wrong thing, but because he said too many things and his time was up. Some places talk a mean game about sticking to your time, but the Emerald City actually lays down the law. Kudos!

And the council needed all the time they could get, for some hefty ethics legislation was ready–yes, Councilmember Debora Juarez?

“Correct me if I’m wrong here…I didn’t vote in favor of this,” she confusedly announced.

“Well,” the president mused, “I think you’re wrong. Just kidding!” he teased as the other councilmembers snickered. “Did you attend committee?”

Councilmember Juarez thought for a second. “Yes, but I didn’t vote yes!”

“It’s sort of a moot issue,” President Harrell tried to soothe her. But it backfired.

“Why are you smiling like that, Bruce?!” she cried out.

Councilmember Lorena González jumped in to mediate this weird spat. “Luckily, this is all videotaped, so you can go back and look. My recollection, Councilmember Juarez, is that in the committee, all three voted in favor”–including you, was the subtext.

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Bruce, why are you smiling? Bruce, why are you holding a knife? BRUCE?!

BONUS FEATURE:

I dug through vaults of microfiche to find out what actually happened. Here is the committee transcript:

Harrell: I’m ready to vote unless any of you have heartburn about it.

Juarez:

Harrell: All those in favor say aye.

Juarez: Aye.

Busted! Take a walk, Sister Mary Forgetful! YOU’VE BEEN CHRONICLED!

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Councilmember Juarez voted aye, and to the left; aye, and to the left; aye, and to

Final thoughts: Be ye warned: lapses of memory shall not stand!

#30: Lincoln, NE 6/20/16

Sometimes Nebraska lives up to its reputation as “the interesting man’s Kansas.”

But sadly, this week the Cornhuskers on the Lincoln city council were focused 100 percent on the soul-crushing, time-dragging nuts and bolts of the People’s Business.

“Can you please tell us about your application?” Vice Chair Leirion Gaylor Baird smiled at the nervous Middle Eastern man wanting a liquor license.

“I just applied…for selling beer for my restaurants. I’m trying to sell only beer.”

Silence.

“So…this is an existing business?” Councilman Carl Eskridge probed.

“Yes. I’m trying to sell just beer.”

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He is also the University of Nebraska’s intramural basketball coach, apparently.

But Councilman Roy Christensen had some bad news for this shifty-eyed beer slinger.

“I’m going to vote to disapprove your application,” the councilman kindly but firmly informed the sweaty applicant. “I don’t want you to take this personally.”

As mild as this exchange was, it was nothing compared to the coma-inducing Q&A between Councilman Jon Camp and the city’s pension officer.

JC: Considering the assumed rate of return is 7.5 percent or 6.4 percent…but really that 3.23 percent is before you’ve had those distributions.

PO: The 3.2 starts with the beginning value and recognizes all the tax receipts and how the values of the underlying asset change in terms of the income we receive from dividends and interest.

JC: It would appear on the investments that we only made $2.4 million when you take dividend, realized gains, and you subtract the losses.

PO: The investment earnings, if you factor all that in, is 3.23 perce–

Holy mother, I’m going to stop here. Not only was this incredibly dry, but they were the two most monotone, low-voiced people I’ve seen outside of a librarians’ convention.

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Before Councilman Jon Camp started talking, his hair was jet black.

Suddenly–mercifully–in the home stretch, we saw some action in the outfield.

“I would move to delay a vote” on the storm water plan, Councilwoman Cyndi Lamm beseeched her colleagues, “until July 11.”

But Councilwoman Jane Raybould made it clear: De-lay? No way!

“I am not going to support the motion because we heard loud and clear from our voters. To say that we’re not going forward with those projects when the voters vote in affirmation of these projects is sort of disingenuous.”

Tempers flared. Knuckles cracked. A vote was taken on a delay. The tally?

3-3. A tie.

“Uh, so,” Vice Chair Gaylor Baird fumbled, “the motion fails on a tie?”

“Any vote of the city council requires four votes to pass,” Councilman Christensen nodded.

Then, a move no one saw coming:

“I would be willing to vote,” piped up Councilman Eskridge, who originally voted AGAINST a delay, “in such a way that it WOULD be delayed.” The Midwestern Benedict Arnold sheepishly avoided eye contact with everyone but the floor.

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“Lol, j/k guys. I wanted to vote the other way all along.”

Cross-talk ensued. Lawyers were summoned. Fast-thinking Councilman Camp swooped in to finish her. “I move we delay this to July 11.”

The do-over vote was done-over. Result? 5-1.

A fuming Councilwoman Raybould silently rested her chin on her fists, thwarted by one rascally traitor.

Final thoughts: I gotta hand it to Councilman Jon Camp. He lulled us almost to sleep before surprising us with a quick-draw vote. I give him 3.23 percent…or 7.5 percent–wait, or

#29: London, OH 6/16/16

Grab a spot of tea and a bite of porridge, for we’re off to London! And I do mean one bite of porridge: the London, Ohio council meeting was over so quickly, you’d barely have time to boil water.

Getting started took some effort. As the camera rolled, council members giggled and gossiped with each other.

“Did you get my e-mail?”

“The one foot’s broken, but the other one’s swollen.”

“It’s been awhile since you’ve been here!”

“They only X-rayed the ankle.”

Council President Jennifer Hitt swayed her chair back and forth, patiently glancing to each side of the dais. When the endless chatter finally died down, alas! Council Member Brenda Russell hastily retreated to a back room with her cell phone glued to her ear.

“You’re holding up the meeting,” President Hitt teased when Russell eventually reappeared.

Finally, five whole minutes into the “meeting,” the meeting began.

“I did go to the Ohio Mayors Association meeting today,” boyish, bow tie-clad Mayor Patrick Closser announced. “But I wanted to get back and tell you guys my mayor fun fact.”

Something MORE fun than the Ohio Mayors Association meeting?! Please, Your Honor, talk quickly so I don’t die of anticipation!

But first, the mayor channeled his inner IT guy: “If you haven’t seen the city’s new website, check it out. Tell me what you guys think.”

Then his inner tough guy: “You all heard about the drug sweep that took place last week. Dope dealers: we’re gonna get ya. We’re gonna find ya.”

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Fun fact: only my grandpa and Mayor Patrick Closser call them “dope dealers.”

“Now, time for the fun fact.” FUN FACT! FUN FACT! “I was able to light a 55 gallon metal barrel on fire in the middle of downtown. Which was awesome.”

…Oh-kay. I’ll take his word for it being awesome. So why was London’s head honcho dabbling in pyrotechnics?

“The movie Last Riot: Madison has been filming in town for a couple weeks. During the night shoots, I got the overnight shift from 9 p.m. to 5 a.m. and Mr. [Joe] Mosier [the safety director] would come in–and NOT bring me breakfast. They needed some extra people to help. They said, ‘would you light a barrel on fire?'”

Everyone nodded approvingly. I guess this is as fun as fun facts get here–although I remember when Ohioans used to light an entire RIVER on fire.

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Doesn’t that look fun?

Not everyone had such a kickass week, though.

“Probably going to touch on a sore subject,” sighed Council Member Rex Castle, “but Mr. Mosier mentioned last meeting about property owners taking pride of their property.”

He became livid at these scofflaws. “There are some places that are just terrible to look at. Step up, people! Take pride in your city! Take care of your properties!” Now he was in a full lather. “They’re talking about the Zika? Possible pandemic? We keep this stuff mowed down, it’s gonna be in best interest of people’s health in this town.”

The council silently absorbed his rage. After a pause, President Hitt graveled the meeting to a swift close.

“Look at that. I doubted the time!” she laughed.

“Take care of business right, you get in and out,” sagely observed Council Member Russell.

Meanwhile, Council Member Megan Douglas worriedly whispered, “do you know if they’re spraying for mosquitoes?”

Final thoughts: I give this meeting 0 out of 1 flaming barrels.

#28: Phoenix, AZ 6/15/16

Triumphant news from Phoenix city hall! Like the mythical bird rising from the ashes, a shimmering new council member rose to fill the vacant District 3 seat.

“Welcome to Councilwoman Stark,” Mayor Greg Stanton congratulated the beknighted Sun Valley servant. “You have some tough votes today. Welcome to the dais.”

She was further welcomed by a few fair Phoenicians gently begging the council’s favor.

“I wanted to show you the lights here are LEDs,” said a professorial-looking man who shined a laser pointer at the ceiling as attendees craned their necks. “But in the center here are the yellow white lights that I have in my house,” he circled the laser like a TED Talk presenter.

“We’re just asking the city to take a careful look at the options. Soft white is a good choice,” he smiled, pocketing the pointer.

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Phoenix: come for the council meeting, stay for the light show.

“It’s my birthday today and I wanna share something,” a woman in a pink blazer gushed excitedly. “Monday, we did meet downtown–and what do we do every Monday? We! Get! Out!” she pumped her arms while chanting the catchphrase.

“We meet at The Corner restaurant. There are a lot of discounts! There are free raffle tickets! We walk or run and there’s music!” She slyly grinned at the council. “Happy birthday to everybody!”

“Thank you very much,” the mayor picked up on the cue. “I hope I’m not in violation of open meeting law by wishing Ms. Barker a happy birthday.”

“You’re good, mayor!” the city attorney hollered.

Next on the agenda were several liquor license applications. The mayor held a voice vote, with everyone voting aye. Suddenly, a screech came over the speaker.

Mayor Stanton’s eyes darted, until he realized what was happening.

“Councilwoman Pastor, are you on the phone?”

“Yes,” the councilwoman’s voice crackled, sounding like she was in a school bus full of kindergartners caught in a tornado.

“Did you vote aye on that item?” he asked into the abyss.

“Yes!” the voice screeched.

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The mayor’s “I-hear-voices” face

Because it was her first day, it was time for the hazing of newbie Councilwoman Debra Stark. Council members had to set a special election to see if the good Phoenicians wanted her to stick around.

“Councilwoman Stark, are you going to declare a conflict of interest on this?” Hizzoner inquired.

“I think I should,” she chuckled nervously.

There was only one comment, from a devoted Starkhead. “I personally prefer the person siting there,” he gestured toward the councilwoman, before chiding the staffer with a hot trigger finger. “I’m not sure when you start your clock, but please let me get to the podium, so when I start speaking–you probably are doing that, but I thought I heard the beeper go off before I even got out of my chair.”

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This man wants his FULL two minutes, Timekeeper!

The final ordinance? New retail at the airport, with one fancy addition:

“If this passes, Councilman Valenzuela will get his spa at the airport,” Mayor Stanton ribbed his exfoliated colleague. (It passed, much to the delight of the councilman’s pores.)

“That was one of our quicker meetings,” the mayor bragged, glancing way down the dais. “Councilwoman Stark, you brought us good luck!”

Final thoughts: New light bulbs, new spa, and new councilwoman. Wow! Talk about a mythical rebirth! I give this meeting 8 out of 10 soft white bulbs.

#26: San Francisco, CA 6/7/16

San Francisco is a beautiful city of beautiful people–with an oddly sterile name for its city council: the “Board of Supervisors.”

What’s even more unwieldy is that the supervisors don’t even sit together! Five of them are at one desk and five of them are at the other, facing off middle school dance-style. The board’s president is perched high above the riff-raff, making for one difficult game of duck-duck-goose in the chambers.

The supes wasted no time in living up to the militantly-liberal stereotype of the City by the Bay.

“Today, I am submitting a carbon tax on nonrenewable energy that will support the maintenance and expansion of San Francisco’s urban forest,” Supervisor John Avalos announced–a blue recycling bin fittingly stationed behind him.

“I am introducing a ballot measure to expand democracy for immigrant parents by allowing non-citizens the right to vote in school board elections,” boasted Eric Mar. He had been adorned earlier with a puffy lei, which seemed on the verge of tipping over the slender supervisor.

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The City by the Lei

It was time for San Fran’s famously freewheeling public comment period. Anyone could take two minutes to speak “on items within the subject matter jurisdiction of the Board,” the clerk warned.

That quickly went out the window as the first man stepped up, speaking slowly in Arabic. I only understood two words: “Mohammad Ali.” (I’m guessing the supes won’t be able to do much about that one.)

My heart grew two sizes upon seeing the next speaker, who wore a t-shirt reading “IN DUE TIME, CHRIST DIED FOR THE UNHOLY.” Something tells me the Board of Supervisors won’t have jurisdiction over what he has to say, either.

“I got on the Alex Jones Show and was able to make the announcement that the times of the gentiles has ended. As a matter of fact, May 20 was exactly 7,365 days from the end of the times of the gentiles. Jesus Christ is coming soon.”

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If Jesus is coming soon, I wonder if He’ll sign up for public comment.

A woman in a suit stepped up. “I want to speak to item number 49. We urge you instead to support the governor’s proposal. This is a statewide bill and it has statewide benefits.”  Oops! Someone with a legitimate comment was allowed to slip through. How embarrassing!

Thankfully, she was the only one.

“Thank you [Board] President Breed and all the members of the cabal,” sneered a guy with a Dostoyevsky-length novel written in tiny words on his t-shirt.

In sharp contrast was a Samuel Jackson lookalike in sunglasses who swaggered to the podium, recording himself with his phone. “Good evening, supervisors…particularly my sisters in the back there,” he hollered out to Supervisors Malia Cohen and London Breed.

“My name is Ace. And I’m on a case. I’m putting the city on notice, specifically our African American, black sisters,” he gestured toward the likely-uncomfortable female supes. “I been in politics back when y’all was little girls. But now you’re women! I’m proud of you!”

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Can I follow you on Vine, dude?

The buzzer sounded, but he continued talking as he backed out of the room, videotaping himself the whole way.

“Next speaker, please,” the clerk sighed over the noise.

Final thoughts: With a city council meeting that was as eclectic as its residents, I give San Francisco 1 giant puffy lei.

#25: Los Angeles, CA 6/3/16

Like most things in Tinseltown, the Los Angeles city council meeting became all about s-e-x.

“Half of black men and a quarter of Latino men who have sex with men are projected to be diagnosed with HIV,” testified Councilwoman Nury Martinez, looking anything but somber in a fiery yellow dress.

“Way back when, in the early 1990s,” she reminisced, “my job was to hand out condoms. Not only to my peers at San Fernando High School, but around small little bars and cantinas.” The sex-positive councilwoman batted her eyes. “I would talk to grown adults and pass out condoms.”

Councilman Paul Krekorian perked up at this risque mention of prophylaxis. “I had no idea about this first job of yours,” he bashfully admitted.

“I’m not gonna tell you who was Condom Man in 1990,” she responded coyly. “I happen to have married him.” Whoa, talk about a power couple!

As the council moved on, Martinez strode back to her seat and, off-mic, breathlessly told Krekorian, “He was Condom Man! We were just so popular in school!”

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Councilwoman Nury Martinez, a.k.a. Mrs. Condom Man

Council President Herb Wesson called for public comment on an affordable housing ordinance. “I want to take up item 3…Mr. Walsh? Mr. Walsh, please come forward.”

A bedraggled man shuffled forward–flannel shirt unbuttoned, yet still wearing a tie. “Tweeting @hollywooddems,” Walsh mumbled by way of introduction. “Under [Mayor Eric] Garcetti, it’s like the mob. Everything  is done like the mob.”

He signed off merely by giving his URL: “hollywoodhighlands.org.”

The next commenter was as cocky as he was efficient with his allotted two minutes. “One minute only, please! One minute,” he yelled out, like some Babe Ruthian showman, calling his home run.

“You never define what ‘affordable is! Are you deciding what’s affordable by district, or what’s affordable for the whole city?!” He clocked in at exactly 58 seconds.

The next several items also required public comment. And the only people signed up to gripe were–I’m sure you can guess–

  • Mr. Walsh (“Blogging at hollywoodhighlands.org or jwalshconfidential.”)
  • Mr. Speedy Gonzalez (“One minute only!”)
  • A lady who held the microphone directly on her lips and thundered “We must vote for Donald J. Trump!”
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John Walsh: blogger, tweeter, person who barely sits down at city council meetings

After their third or fourth appearance, they stopped being polite and started getting real.

One-Minute Guy: “I’m going to be the lead plaintiff in a suit against the city of Los Angeles because–” his voice became sing-songy–“you’re hiding documennnnts councilmemberrrrrrs!”

John Walsh.blogspot/tweets.gov: “There are thousands of blacks and Hispanics who have been murdered and you don’t give a f*cking sh*t about their asses. HOLLYWOODHIGHLANDS.ORG.”

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Mr. One-Minute-Only, as he’s known in city hall and the bedroom

At blessed last, an angelic face stepped up. “To my friend, the Honorable Herb Wesson, Jr., who undoubtedly will be our next mayor–”

Council President Wesson blushed. “Oh, come on, Chuck!”

“To all the agitators who mock, belittle, degrade, or are prejudiced to him, shame on you!” roared Chuck. “Let Herb do his job! Leave him alone and stop picking on him!”

You’re a good man, Chuck. Too bad you’re not the one with the blog.

Final thoughts: Be honest, you’ve already forgotten that Councilwoman Nury Martinez was married to the Condom Man, haven’t you? I give this meeting One Minute! One Minute Only, Please!

#24: Newport, TN 6/2/16

If your underbritches feel bunched, y’all are in good company. At the Newport city council meeting, the People’s Business was as sticky as maple syrup on flypaper.

“I wanna bring everybody up to speed on the situation with the animal shelter,” city administrator James Finchum announced from somewhere behind his extensive mustache.  “They promised they would get us our money. As of today, we’ve received $10,000.”

The bad news: “They still owe us about $60,000.” All right, fellers: time to shake down them dogs and cats! Milk bones and kitty litter gotta be worth something!

“Nobody at the city wants to close that animal shelter,” kindly old Vice Mayor Mike Proffitt warbled. “That’s the furthest thing from our mind.”

One councilman murmured, “Don’t they have some $90,000 in repairs?”

“I’ve never heard that figure,” Finchum recoiled, no doubt contemplating all the gold-plated food dishes 90 grand could buy. “The roof definitely needs repairs.”

At this point, a man in a lime-green Polo stood up–apparently Newport’s roof guru. “When the heat rises and it hits the tin [roof], it causes the metal to sweat and it rains in your attic. Then it ends up in the electrical lights.” Some tar paper would fix the problem, he added. (Again, am I the only one who sees the value of super absorbent kitty litter?!)

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“The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout. Down came the rain-“

Speaking of snafus, the city attorney had some unwelcome news about 318 White Oak Avenue. There were no other bidding parties at the tax sale.” He tossed up his arms. “Consequently, YOU have ended up with the property.”

Vice Mayor Proffitt immediately complained. “Everything I’ve heard from everybody says, ‘get rid of this! If you get anything, beats nothing, ’cause you’re gonna be holding onto it.'”

Taking the advice of the man with “profit” in his name, the council voted to sell.

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“Get off my lawn!” -this man, to the taxpayers

During citizen comment, Carla had some things to say for the good of the city: “We are hosting a motorcycle fundraiser that will start at the Tanner Building. We’re calling it ‘Kickstands Up for Preservation’,” she announced.

“Maurice, I’ll borrow your motorcycle!” the mayor ribbed the police chief.

Second: “I had asked the council about supporting my transportation program,” Carla gently backed into her sales pitch. “I am still looking for funds for that program other places…but if you could help in any way, I’d appreciate it.”

“How much are you needing for that?” one alderman inquired.

$2,500, she deadpanned.

There was a pause. Vice Mayor Proffitt let her down gently. “I know it’s frustrating to you, but I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” Oh, well. Maybe once the animal shelter pays them back, Carla.

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Carla: “Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?”

Speaking of appreciation, the vice mayor had another uniquely Newportian thank-you to dole out. “Lisa, I’d like to thank you for being up there the other night when the folks [were] gettin’ dog-bit,” he drawled. “And the neighbors tell you ‘they won’t bite you’…and blood’s running down both legs. But I appreciate you being up there at the time to defuse that situation.”

Woof! Methinks they need to get that animal shelter squared away, stat!

Final thoughts: If you ever watch a Tennessee city council meeting, be sure you have a translator. Their accent is thicker than gravy on a biscuit. I give this meeting 7 out of 10 vicious dog bites.

#23: Portland, OR 5/25/16

Say the word “Portland” and people think of baristas, bikers, and brunch-guzzling hipsters. But now, I hope you’ll also remember the Rose City for its generous, almost masochistic public comment period.

Rest assured: there was nooooo shortage of comments.

“Vic Remmers is holding my life hostage. The ransom is $700,000,” a woman exhaled, dramatically over-pronouncing everything like a “Shakespeare in the Park” performer. “My dream house…it is going to be demolished. And Vic Remmers said he would replace it with 12 condos. I’m terrified–terrified!”

There was applause from the gallery when she breathlessly finished. “If you have a minute, you can stop in my office and talk to Camille,” Mayor Charlie Hales informed her, casually tossing Camille under the bus.

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Vic Remmers may be bad, but this video quality is GOOD!

The council turned to a routine bill about automobile accident investigations and, fortunately for us, was obligated to open up the floor.

“We would like to know if these investigations would include a chief of police shooting his friend, and the mayor covering it up for a month,” the yellow-shirted man tethered to an oxygen tank wheezed.

“We’ll have that conversation some other time,” Mayor Hales warned.

“I’m SURE you don’t want to talk about this, mayor!” gasped the man. “You covered up the shooting over a month where the chief of police lied!”

Hizzoner seethed. “You can testify, but I’m not going to be cross-examined.”

“You should be arrested! You should resign, sir!” roared the man, before wheeling his oxygen tank away.

(I normally don’t do background research on what I hear at council meetings. But it turns out, this routine crazy person actually DID have a point.)

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WELP, THAT WAS UNCOMFORTABLE.

The next commenter read at length from his beefy packet of papers. “If I can just take a minute to go off topic a bit, we’re in a leadership vacuum. What’s lacking is leadership, due to everyone’s voice being heard,” he complained through a mouth-hole that allowed HIS voice to be heard.

“We just spent 10 minutes on a rant that has nothing to do with this issue,” Commissioner Nick Fish snapped afterward. “I think it’s disrespectful to the people that are actually ahead in the queue.” Subtext: CAN WE GET THROUGH THIS ALREADY?

The final controversial issue was that the Washington Park Reservoir needs to be rebuilt for various reasons–not the least of which is that it isn’t earthquake proof. You would think people would sympathize, buuuuuuttttt…

“This is an offensive bullying tactic by our lame-duck mayor and our unethical, offensive commissioners on behalf of their crony contractors,” a woman barked at the council. They stared bleary-eyed back at her. If there is a purgatory, this comes pretty close to it.

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We could protect the reservoir from earthquakes and landslides…or listen to the angry lady.

Trying to close on a happy note, Commissioner Amanda Fritz announced: “I want to call to your attention that John Zoller is retiring–”

“What?!” Zoller blurted off camera.

“Am I correct on that?” the bewildered commissioner asked. Then, apologizing for the misinformation, “I’m getting very tired. We’ve been here for three and a half hours!”

Gee, I wonder why.

Final thoughts: Trust me, I left out a lot. Including the guy who goes only by “Lightning” and the man in a pink ballcap who commented so many times that I lost count. I give this meeting 4 out of 5 muscle relaxers.