Category: Southwest

#17: Brush!, CO 5/9/16

I sh*t you not, the name of this city is “Brush!” With punctuation.

From the Brush! website: “The exclamation point after our name dates back to 1978 when the Brush Area Chamber of Commerce and the City Council began placing the exclamation point after Brush to emphasize a ‘can do attitude’.”

Well, okily-dokily. I actually have no problem with the exclamation point because I am excited–namely because the Brush! city council meeting was only 27 less-than-a-pizza-delivery minutes long!

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The Brush! city logo also doubles as good advice from your dentist

City Attorney Robert Chapin asked the council to muster their can-do attitudes to send a letter to the governor. If Hizzoner doesn’t veto a particular bill, Brush! will have to pay for court-appointed lawyers. And that, Chapin fretted, would be awful.

“That’s gonna involve some additional administrative chores,” he wrung his hands. “It’s going to create some problems for us that we have not had to deal with in the past.”

But Councilor Jeanine Anderson wasn’t letting him pee on her leg and tell her it’s raining. “I think, you know, with the Constitution of this country, you don’t just jail people without the right to an attorney.”

“The city would have to pick up the entire cost,” Chapin protested.

“Maybe,” mused Councilor Anderson, “we could look at the ordinances where there is jail time and-”

“We could eliminate that. That’s correct,” the attorney concurred.

Mayor Chuck Schonberger butted in. “Do you know how often we have sentenced someone to jail?”

“Very seldom,” Chapin responded.

No jail time in Brush!? What kind of hippie commune are they running here?! But don’t go knock over the Shell station just yet: the council voted for the veto, with Councilor Anderson the only “nay.”

Speaking of the po-po, April 30 was Brush!’s drug take-back. “In the four hour span, we collected 168 pounds of pharmaceuticals,” the interim chief reported. “We’re just about double what we were in previous years.”

Jesus. Talk about a can-do-a-lot-of-drugs attitude. Maybe if they sold all that Oxy, Brush! could pay for a lawyer for the one guy they send to jail each year.

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Where were all the citizens? Definitely NOT stockpiling drugs. Nooope.

“Was there any report form the council outreach on May 2?” Mayor Schonberger asked the room?

After a moment, Councilor Kimberly Dykes murmured, “we had no visitors.”

“That’s what I heard,” the mayor sighed, staring out at the empty council chambers. But then he brightened. “I noticed new tables out here.”

“Long tables,” the city clerk whispered excitedly.

Or,  as they are known in Brush!: “Long! Tables!”

Final thoughts: The only thing I love more than a speedy council meeting is a 168-pound motherlode of prescription narcotics. And the Brush! city council certainly had both. I give this meeting 11 out of 10 stars.

#9: North Las Vegas, NV 4/20/16

Las Vegas, baby! A.K.A. Sin City. Hookerville, USA. Yeezus.

This city council meeting will be Off. The. Cha-what’s that? This is North Las Vegas?! Please tell me some of the debauchery trickles across the border.

“You just opened your new church and I was there maybe two months ago,” Mayor John Lee recalled after a pastor gave the kickoff prayer. “How is it going?”

“Amazing! Lots and lots of people,” the padre eagerly responded.

“Well, that’s blessing for our community,” the mayor nodded. Well, shucks. This is going to be as wholesome as a daycare. And speaking of children, “some Rancho High School students are here. We’re going to recognize the winners of the art show.”

The council descended to the floor, as Councilman Isaac Barron launched into a weird trip down memory lane. “There used to be this one show here in town–I was almost a radio personality. There was a reggae show and the host always ended the show with saying ‘and remember, if you don’t like reggae, you don’t like life.’ In this case, I would say if you don’t like art, you don’t like life.”

Smooth, Councilman. Very smooth, mon.

The council handed an award to a moody teen who could not have looked less happy to be there. She won first prize for her performance piece, “MOM!!! You’re embarrassing me in front of my council members!”

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Did Picasso get an award from his city council? I think not!

At this point, Councilwoman Pamela Goynes-Brown had an announcement. “A couple of weeks ago the mayor and myself attended the Goodwill annual community recognition luncheon. But the good thing is-” she could barely contain her excitement as she stood up-“we all received one of these bags!” She flaunted her man-sized tote bag, which she would use to collect donations.

An aide piped up: “Mayor, also on Tuesday at the Goodwill, you will be here at 11 a.m. in a blue blazer collecting those donations.”

“Mayor, I think blue is your color,” complimented Councilman Richard Cherchio. “Maybe you can wear that bag. I think you’d look good in it.” Boom! Roasted.

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Councilwoman Pamela Goynes-Brown shows off her giant sack.

It was time for public comment. A citizen named Doris rolled up in a wheelchair and complained–very politely–about people leaving their debris in her path on the sidewalk. “How many hours does it take for somebody outside to clean up this mess?” she pleaded. “Work on making North Las Vegas a beautiful place to live. Not just better, but beautiful.”

“It’s possible we could deputize you,” Mayor Lee mused, “and give you a badge and a little red light and put you to work out there.”

“What would my role be?” Doris asked skeptically.

“Alex will figure that one out for you. You’re our favorite citizen!” the mayor said with a laugh. Oh, really? Is that how you treat your favorite citizens, mayor? By recruiting them to fight crime on the mean streets? Because if so…ALEX, MAKE HER A SUPERHERO! She shall be Debris Woman and ride a flying bulldozer.

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This is Doris. Do not f*ck with her.

Final thoughts: To paraphrase Councilman Barron, if you don’t like reggae, art, or city council meetings, you don’t like life. I give this meeting 2 stars: one for Doris and one for all the tush she’s gonna kick.

#8: Chino, CA 4/20/16

Anger. Frustration. Rage.

If you felt any of those things, you probably grabbed your pitchfork and headed down to the Chino City Council meeting. Mayor Dennis Yates was hot under the collar because some big-shot Malibu lawyer is suing. It seems that Chino, which is 53% Latino, has a council that is 100% gringo.

“They’re suing Highland, Rancho Cucamonga, and Upland,”  seethed City Attorney Jimmy Gutierrez. “He’s alleging that it has been number of years that there have been no Latino council members.”

Technically, Mr. Malibu is right on the money here. Chino hasn’t had a new council member since 2001, when fresh-faced Tom Haughey became White Person #5.

But that’s not the point. Thanks to this out-of-town ambulance chaser, the council has to carve up their beloved city like a Christmas ham into four or–stop it, you’re killing them!–six districts.

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But if the council turns into six people, where will they find the extra seats to-oh, never mind, there they are.

“That really bothers me because I love this city and I’ve lived here for a long time,” white citizen Toni thundered. “And I take pride in the fact that we are one community, not pockets.”

And lest you think she was anti-Latino people, she’ll have you know that she has two Latino friends.

“I know of two Latinos who were planning on running for council. Neither of them will be able to run based on this new system,” she revealed…until 2018, which, I mean is soooo far away. How many of us will even live that long, you know?

Toni tagged out to Jeff, who happened to be her husband. And what a surprise: Jeff, too, was a ball of fury.

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In solidarity with his brown friends, Jeff testified in his skin-toniest shirt.

He went back to their hypothetical Hispanic acquaintances, who you wouldn’t know because they go to a different school. “If these people were able to run…wouldn’t that eliminate this whole thing if one of them got elected?”

It’s not supposed to about race but it is,” the mayor sighed.

“It is a BS law,” Jeff sighed.

“Well, we all agree.”

Well, funny story. Not everyone agreed.

“My family came to Chino in the early 1900s. Both of my grandparents were migrants…they lived in tents,”said clearly-Latino citizen Jesus Rodriguez.

“I think it’s a good idea to have diversity in this city. No offense to anyone here, but I see that it hasn’t happened in a while,” he told the pale faces staring him down.

The final speaker was Paul Rodriguez, who wandered through a trippy defense of the new council districts.

“Let’s think of ourselves as a chain of pearls. Each pearl on that chain is actually part of the whole….Okay, we landed on the moon. Now we’re gonna move to Mars….If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be?”

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“If the whole body were made of pancakes, would we eat ourselves?”

Yeah, okay, Dr. Frankenstein. Let’s just shelve that dilemma for the next city council meeting. Mayor?

“Change is good. But to be forced to do something that doesn’t make sense…it’s aggravating and it’s upsetting.” Almost as upsetting as a body made out of eyes.

Final thoughts: A classic David and Goliath story! Little city versus big lawyer. Four districts versus six. Hearing versus sight. I give this meeting 2 out of 2 imaginary Latino neighbors.

#7: Troup, TX 4/12/16

City council day in Troup, Texas only comes ’round once a month. This tiny outpost of 1,900 people doesn’t need some fancy city hall with desks and microphones and such. They’re perfectly fine with foldin’ tables and the chairs you’d sit on in a high school cafeteria.

Heck, Troup is so easygoing that they’ll do a meeting without two of their five councilmen. Too bad for those guys: Councilman Gary Salyer brought potato chips and he wasn’t shy about passing them around!

The first order of business was for the mayor to approve a change in ambulance services. “I am prepared to sign it right now so you can leave with it,” Mayor Joe Carlyle said to some guy the hospital sent, adding his John Hancock to the note in blazingly fast legislative efficiency.

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The Troup City Council chamber doubles as the place where you go to learn about timeshares

The man thanked the mayor, announcing that “I’m gonna run over and give Neil some moral support at this other city council” in Henderson. He ran out, leaving the council with an audience of me.

“I’m on a diet. I’m gettin’ 400 calories a day right now,” the mayor groused, sipping a Big Gulp of something-or-other.

“Have one of these,” Councilman Salyer exclaimed, tossing the mayor his bag of chips.

“You drinkin’ all the whiskey you can?” city manager Gene Cottle inquired, jokingly (I think). Note to the council: I will spot you some dough for cushioned chairs and 1,600 more calories for your mayor.

Cranky as he was on his diet, the mayor took to complaining about the trains running through town and backing up traffic. “We’re gonna go and express dire concerns because it’s been about as bad as it’s ever been.”

At this point, everyone in the room raised their hackles about those darn trains.

“Again on Easter Sunday…Couldn’t get across the tracks!…Saturday, and then the Sunday morning…”

They agreed to complain some more and then moved on.

“We have several employees who are celebrating their tenth anniversary with the city in May, ” said the city manager. There could be a little shindig at the next meeting, but…

“I will not be at the May city council meeting,” he admitted.

“If we don’t have any pressing business,” let’s cancel it, said Mayor Carlyle. “Would there have to be a public notice that we’re canceling the meeting?”

“We just have to post it beforehand,” responded the secretary.

“I should be up to 800…900 calories by then,” the mayor mumbled, sipping his cup.

Finally: it seems the mayor’s wife has had some ugly-looking bathwater lately. Probably because the pump on well #2 blew itself up. This was hardly a crisis like the Fire of 1880 that destroyed the city, but still: it’s icky bathwater.

“If you let that water sit, you’ll notice that nothing settles out of that water,” the city manager noted, let’s say…reassuringly?

There was nothing they could do, so the council agreed to add it to the list of things to complain about.

Final thoughts: For a city plagued by tainted water, canceled meetings, and a questionable 400-calorie diet, the mayor showed great poise. I would give this meeting a rating, but sadly a train is blocking me, so oh well.