#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.

#6: Minneapolis, MN 4/15/16

Ah, Minneapolis. The prettier, more datable sibling of the Twin Cities. But at this week’s city council meeting, it was goodbye “Minnesota Nice” and hello “all-out warfare.”

No sooner had Council President Barbara Johnson opened the day’s agenda than a woman in the front row was hellbent on inserting herself into it.

“Council, I would like you to amend the agenda specific to Jamar Clark,” who was shot two weeks ago. “Our city isn’t responsive to the fact that-”

President Johnson leaned into the microphone. “Those who disrupt proceedings will be asked to leave.”

Front-row lady yielded no ground.  “WHY ARE YOU…KILL OUR RESIDENTS…SHAME!” she shrieked over the president’s warning.

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Protester: “You’ll never take me alive, coppers!”

“Remove this lady!” Johnson ordered, summoning two burly sentinels to eject the rabble rouser. Incredibly, another woman in the front row stood to take her place.

“Consider this on the agenda today-” she repeated.

Ma’am, ma’am! We are trying to conduct a city council meeting,” Johnson pleaded, emphasis on “trying.” “Please remove this lady.”

Burly bouncer #1 rushed again to the front row to seize the protester. But–are you sensing a pattern?–Old Yeller #3 picked up the diatribe mid-sentence!

“BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE A CHOICE,” she bellowed. “A CHOICE ABOUT WHICH SIDE-”

“Ma’am, I’m going to ask security to remove you,” the president reiterated, a phrase that will now be forever seared in my subconscious.

I don’t need to tell you perceptive people what happened next.

“EVEN THE FORMER CHIEF OF POLICE-” the fourth synchronized shouter wailed, loudest of all.

LOCK HER UP WITH THE OTHERS! GAG THEM ALL, President Johnson thundered. (I’m paraphrasing here.)

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Council President Barbara Johnson: “Save the scrawny one for me. I’ll finish her myself.”

At long, blessed last, the council could begin the People’s Business, although the lyrical chants of the dearly departed could still be heard from outside.

“The next item of business is to accept the minutes-”

NO JUSTICE! NO PEACE!

“Moved and seconded-”

NO JUSTICE!

“All in approval say aye-”

NO PEACE!

Council members had been holding their fire, but that all changed with consideration of the Third Avenue South bike lane proposal.

“I would like to move a substitute motion,” Councilmember Lisa Bender bombshelled.

Oh. S#%t. This daredevil diva wanted to take Third Avenue downtown from four lanes to an insane three lanes with bike space and a center turn lane!

“I use Third Street about four or five times per day,” physically fit Councilmember Jacob Frey bragged. “I use it more than anyone else in the city other than the guys that ride their bikes for Jimmy John’s.” It’s dangerous, he said. And he’ll be voting for the three lanes.

“I bicycle every day, year-round on Third Avenue, sometimes with my two small children,” Councilmember Bender responded. Jesus, is this a competition for who has the most badass commute? Does any council member ride a unicycle in the snow with immigrant laborers hanging onto their their back?

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Councilmember Jacob Frey commutes every day to City Hall from his home in Handsometown.

President Johnson called the vote.

It failed. 6-7.

Even though the Rebel Alliance lost out to the Empire, they would still get their bike lanes. No-voting Councilmember Lisa Goodman rubbed in her victory: “I think we’ve won and the feeling that we haven’t won enough makes me sad.”

Final thoughts: On drama, I give this meeting 4 out of 4 screaming protesters. On results, I’ll award only 3 out of 4 lanes because Councilmember Goodman feels sad.

#5: River Falls, WI 4/12/16

Hiya dere, Badger Staters! Who’s ready for a trip up the Kinnickinnic River to River Falls, Wisconsin? Yah? Sure, you betcha!

The chief cheesehead at the city council was Mayor Dan Toland. Don’t let his facial hair deceive you: while he may have the beard and mustache of a movie villain, he’s got the accent of every Little League coach within 1,000 miles of Chicago.

“If anybody in the audience has anything to say, now would be the time,” the mayor started out, waving people toward the guest book at the microphone.

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The Breakfast Club–I mean, citizens of River Falls, watch the meeting.

Jeff and Larry took the bait. “We’re planing to build in the new industrial park,” they said, looking like…well, two guys who’re gonna build in the new industrial park.

“For those that don’t know me, I was born and raised a River Falls native and grew up on a dairy farm around here,” said Jeff, wisely appealing to the utter-squirters in the crowd. “Mr. Cronk taught me in sixth grade, I believe. Science,” he said, waving at Alderperson David Cronk.

Larry briefly interjected: “I have to apologize, I’m not a native to Wisconsin…but I grew up in Stillwater, Minnesota.” Naturally, as a Minnesotan, he’s legally required to apologize whenever possible.

“We’re dreaming of being wildly successful and I think we’re well on our way,” Larry humblebragged.

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Jeff and Larry, or as I call them “Casual” and “Sporty”

The next commenter was…I wanna say…Tim?

“My name’s Tim. We’re also doing a development. Gonna be their neighbors it sounds like,” Tim said. “I just wanna introduce myself. Like I said, we’re really excited. Just wanted to say hi.”

Wow, the industrial park is gonna be quite the hang-out spot. Bring your s’mores and some Miller Lites over to Jeff, Larry, and Tim’s place!

“I got some plaques to hand out to some of our alderpersons that are retiring and stepping down,” the mayor said, bounding down from the dais. “So give me a minute…I’ll try to embarrass them.”

Three whole alderpersons were skee-daddling: Jim Nordgren (“whenever we need a fill-in, he’s always the guy”), Aaron Taylor (“he had other things to do”), and Dan Gulick (“he’s got all sorts of stuff going on”).

The mayor handed each of them a plaque, which I’m sure they’ll cherish as they do their other things and stuff.

Water talk was up next from Kevin Westhuis, the utility director. “We are gonna be painting Sycamore water tower this year and someone said, ‘well geez, I heard a rumor that you’re gonna paint the tower a different color and I heard that UW’s going on the tower.’ UW River Falls is gonna pay to put its little logo on the tower and it looks like this,” he said, holding up this obscene smutpiece:

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Sycamore water tower’s new logo is puuuuuuurrrrrreeeeee sex.

Finally, the police chief stepped up to break some news about the weather siren schedule. “Normally it’s the fourth Monday of each month at 1 p.m.But due to the emergency preparedness week, this Thursday we’re gonna have two different times. One’s gonna be at 1:45 pm. and the other one’s gonna be at 6:55 pm.”

“This is the first time we’ve done one so late in the evening,” he admitted, casting aside the dozens of “Jeopardy!”  viewers who will mistakenly think the loud buzzing is their hearing aid.

Final thoughts: By far the nicest buncha folks you ever did see at a council shindig! Jeff, Larry, and Tim are welcome to crash on my couch anytime. I give this meeting 2 out of 2 emergency airhorns.

#4: Aiken, SC 4/11/16

Why, I do declare! Sip yourself some sweet tea and try not to get the vapors, because we’re in South Carolina for the Aiken city council meetin’. This Palmetto State powwow is built on the three G’s: God, Grits, and Gettin’ down to the People’s Business.

Mayor Rick Osbon, the Aiken dry cleaning mogul, started things off with a down-homey prayer from one of the local men of the cloth.

“Through it all, [God] will be glorified and your name and your kingdom exalted. For this we give you all the praise, all the honor, and all the glory with thanksgiving. In Jesus’s precious name, Amen.”

Amen! I believe it’s a law in South Carolina that you have to start everything in Jesus’s precious name, so just to be safe, let me start this review in His name as well.

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Two minutes in and we’ve already got 18 retinas! Hallelujah!

The first piece of new business was as spicy as a drop of Tabasco: a citizen’s committee to review complaints about the police. This could get explosive–and the village elders certainly didn’t want another Fort Sumter on their hands.

“Five of you would have to vote in favor and council would have to make a finding of exigent circumstances that warrants this,” Councilman Reggie Ebner drawled.

“I don’t know what the definition of exigent is,” he admitted,  folksily. “I looked in the dictionary. It’s ‘something that requires immediate attention.'”

It was awfully diligent–er, sorry, “good job-doing”–of the councilman to do some research. Aikenites, be sure to keep him around. He’s a reader!

“I would definitely deem it exigent,” nodded the mayor, flexing the fancy new word. The council agreed unanimously.

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Mayor Rick Osbon knows two things: how to rock a pocket square and what “exigent” means.

“I’ma go back to our audience,” Mayor Osbon announced, scanning the sparse crowd in the chambers. “Any comments?”

A smart-dressed man strode confidently to the podium.  “Good evening, ya’ll. I have my family back there so excuse them if they start talking with me,” he chuckled. He endorsed the committee, adding “this community is special.”

“Thank you for your comments,” the mayor smiled. “That’s what makes Aiken the special place that it is.” Well, butter my buns and call me a biscuit!

Suddenly, the mayor spotted a target in the audience. “This is Steve Kisner. You may know his son,” pro-golfer Kevin Kisner. “He made us all very proud this past weekend!” The mayor was interrupted by an outbreak of applause. The elder Kisner, himself dressed in a golfy blue Polo and khakis, accepted the applause on his son’s behalf.

“Steve, if he’s in town during a council meeting, bring him around and we’d like to personally recognize him,” Councilwoman Lessie Price promised.

Added Councilwoman Gail Diggs: “Tell him we’ll give him the key to the city. Whatever that is.” Aww, how gracious! (Er, sorry, Councilman Ebner: HOW VERY NICE-THING-TO-DO.)

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Steve Kisner’s son will get the key to the city, whatever that is.

With everyone vibing on Steve’s son, it was time to adjourn. “All those in favor please stand up,” the mayor called, just in time to watch his council make themselves as scarce as a hen’s teeth. In Jesus’s precious name, Amen!

Final thoughts: Because everyone learned the definition of “exigent,” I think we’re all winners. I give this meeting 2 out of 3 mint juleps.

 

#3: Muscatine, IA 4/7/16

If something smells musky, it’s gotta be the Muskies of Muscatine, Iowa! This Thursday’s city council meeting was as hot as a stick of fried butter here in the “Pearl of the Mississippi.” From an arts center imbroglio to a puzzling piece of park, these Hawkeyes stayed hawk-eyed on the People’s Business.

“Tonight we have a special guest,” mayor Diana Broderson hinted, smiling toward the podium and the local V.I.P. standing astride it. “Sophia Aguirre is going to read the proclamation done for the Muscatine Volunteer Week.”

Whoa, talk about a surprise drop-in! Mayor Broderson booked the 2016 Miss Muscatine Outstanding Teen for a primetime Thursday night appearance?!

I was starstruck as Her Highness daintily read the declaration of April 10-16 as volunteer week for all Muskies. Applause erupted among the common rabble and the council members giddily lined up for a photo of this once-in-a-lifetime brush with royalty.

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Miss Muscatine Outstanding Teen thunderously addressing her subjects

After this red carpet moment, the council turned to less glamorous fare. “We’re gonna move on to number five in our agenda,” Mayor Broderson announced. Number five? Where were numbers two through four? Had they been executed at Miss Teen Muscatine’s request?

“If there is anyone in the audience that would like to discuss an item not on tonight’s agenda, please step to the podium,” the mayor thundered.

One citizen approached warily.

The councilmembers licked their lips, ready to pounce on their foolhardy prey.

“I wanted to propose making Third Street a one-way to deal with traffic flow instead of making Second Street into a two-way,” this fair Muskie beseeched her overseers.

“I guess if…” she paused, searching for the words that would get her out of the lion’s den unscathed. “If it’s possible, we could vote on it as a referendum.”

A vote! BY THE RABBLE? I shuddered and turned away, expecting the mayor to tear into her, ripping tendon from bone.

“Thank you. We’ll talk about that further,” she said.

Ah, mercy. The mark of a benevolent lord.

“Let’s move on to section 9A,” Mayor Broderson said, clearly showing not a care in the world for her rupture in the chronological order of space-time.

Section 9A was a proclamation for Sister City Day in Muscatine. The mayor stamped the holiday on April 3, to honor Dro…Droh–“boy this is gonna be tough,” she muttered–Drohobych, Ukraine; Kisolovodsk, Russia; Ichikawamisato, Japan;  Ludw-well, you get the idea. Weird names. The council stood to take a photo with the proclamation.

“We should have all worn our Sunday best today,” the mayor mused.

“I’ll look a lot thinner behind you,” one ample-bodied councilman grunted to another, squeezing into the plus-sized and clearly corn-fed group.

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Paparazzi were out in force

Moving on to item 11–yes, 11, thanks to a power-mad mayor–the contract to repair the Muscatine Art Center. There was only one bidder, so open-and-shut case. Moving right along-

“We received one bid?” Councilman Tom Spread cried out.

“There were actually two bids for the project,” a gray-haired city bureaucrat sighed. “The lady delivering the bid for the second contractor got confused and went to the county administration building. She was 10 minutes late, so we couldn’t open that bid.”

Too bad. So sad. Leave her in the dust, boys.

“How do you vote, Tom?” the mayor asked.

“Aye,” Councilman Tom responded.

“Allen?…Bob?…Santos?…Scott?…Phil?…Mike?” All ayes.

Next up, accepting a small portion of Sevig Street for the designation-

“Where’s Sevig Street?” the baritone voice of Councilman Mike Rehwaldt boomed.

Over by the Wal-View development, the city manager called out from the front row, to the councilman’s satisfaction.

Final item, approve an updated master plan for Riverside Park. There was-

“Riverview Park? Is that…the park right opposite that small boat harbor?” Councilman Rehwaldt again interrupted. “Isn’t that Riverveiw Park?”

“Riverside Park,” Councilman Santos Saucedo corrected.

Again, the city manager to the rescue: “Riverside Park is basically Cedar Street down to the boat launch.”

Councilman Rehwaldt crossed his meaty arms, satisfied at learning two new things about his city today.

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Councilman Mike “Where is this? Do I live here?” Rehwaldt

With the councilman’s appetite thus satiated, this council of Muskie elders, like the mighty Mississippi River, faded into the night.

Final thoughts: Two words: Miss. Muscatine. Nothing could top that kind of cameo. I give this meeting 10 out of 10 tiaras.

#2: Post Falls, ID 4/5/16

Big news from potato country: Mayor Ron Jacobson is on vacay to sunny Cabo. Yes, while the head honcho enjoys tequilas and senoritas, the six amigos on the city council stayed home to crack open an icy can of the People’s Business.

Firebrand three-term councilor and 2013 Citizen of the Year Linda Wilhelm kicked things off with an award for Post Falls’s newest Eagle Scout. “Every young man in Post Falls who makes Eagle Scout comes to city council and gets an award for that,” she explained, bragging that this uniformed lad had selflessly built a walking path at the Post Falls senior center to earn his stripes. In return, Councilor Wilhelm bestowed a gift that would impress any strapping teen.

“This is a buck knife and your name is spelled right on the knife,” she beamed. “Be careful with that.”

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Post Falls’s newest Eagle Scout receives a buck knife and the legal right to hunt and kill anyone from Kootenai County for 24 hours

The feel-good vibes kept rolling with an announcement that Corbin Park was just named Idaho’s Best Disc Golf Course (for those of you looking for a new vacation spot). And the 12th annual tree giveaway is this Saturday, with each citizen being able to claim a Caligula-like THREE trees. What a leafy utopia Post Falls shall be after this Saturday!

The good news didn’t stop there in this hardy hamlet: Police Chief Haug muscled his way to the podium to offer a commendation to one of his boys in blue. Seems that back in February, Officer Koontz stopped a screw-loose man from 86-ing himself off the Interstate 90 overpass. “That’s why we love this town so much,” interjected Councilor Wilhelm. “It gets me a little choked up.”

After brushing aside the tears, it was time for the “citizens issues” section, a.k.a. public comment. “I don’t see anyone running up here,” Councilor Wilhelm observed after a moment’s pause. Indeed, all 30,000 Post Falls residents were nestled snug in their beds. Except Mayor Jacobson, who was likely nestled between a Jacuzzi and a margarita the size of his head.

Now for some playtime! Or at least, as close as we’re going to get: the Post Falls parks manager was here to talk about playgrounds. A decadent 13 playgrounds dot the city’s landscape and offer a bulwark against what he called “the computerized world.” Hey, buddy: I’m watching you through the magic of the computerized world. Try streaming video on a jungle gym and tell me how it goes.

Suddenly, the cogs of government ground to a halt. Hawk-eyed Councilor Alan Wolfe had been perusing the Parks Department policy and made a SHOCKING discovery. “There is no Section 9,” he bombshelled.

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Councilor Alan Wolfe: “I will go postal if you do not show me Section 9.”

Confusion reigned. Women gasped. Babes wept.

“Is there any reason why there’s no Section 9?”

For a moment, Post Falls, Idaho entered DEFCON-2.

Then, under her breath, Councilor Kerri Thoreson muttered, “All the secret covert stuff is in there.”

Whew. Tension defused.

With that, Councilor Wilhelm announced, “We do need an executive session for 15 minutes” to “acquire an interest in real property,” which sounds like code for “buying land–say, a beachfront condo in Cabo, with no mayors allowed.”

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I had to watch this bridge for 15 minutes

Final thoughts: Clocking in at a cool 45 minutes, these people kept it short, sweet, and focused on the thing that really matters: the tree giveaway this Saturday. I give this meeting 3 out of 3 free saplings.

#1: Pittsburgh, PA 4/5/16

With eyes so steely they could’ve been smelted right here in Pittsburgh, city council president Bruce Kraus pounded his gavel from atop a kingly perch of wood, summoning the council members to feast upon the people’s business.

“Councilwoman Harris, we need you back in chambers please!” the bald-headed statesman pleaded, glancing at the long row of empty desks before him where a mere two council members sat.

The young Corey O’Connor rose first to offer a resolution declaring Friday “PACE Day,” whatever that is. Sirens blared by outside, leading the bespectacled and frat presidential-looking councilman to pause and joke, “it’s a busy day out there.” Were I present, I would have retorted, “It’s a busy day in here, too. Now get crackin’!”

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Councilman Corey O’Connor, also your senior class treasurer

The bearded Councilman Daniel Gilman next commended a group called the Snow Angels, which shovels snow for Pittsburghers. Also, he just said the inherently-funny word “Pittsburghers.” Are you thinking about a bunch of people walking around wearing giant sesame seed buns? I am. Gilman handed the commendation to one Snow Angel even more bearded than he. This hipster Paul Bunyan joked about moving from South Carolina to shovel snow, which got a big laugh. Are you taking notes, Councilman O’Connor?!

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Snow Angel and professional facial hair archivist

Council president Kraus opened the public comment period, giving concerned citizens three minutes to speak and vowing that “order will be maintained at all times.” There was little chance of a riot–the first testifier merely wanted to plug her new gospel song and the other speaker used the phrase “wind swirling snow crystals” while reading from his poetry.

Moving on to bills, Councilwoman Darlene Harris, having finally moseyed on in to the chambers, indicated she would be voting no on “the marijuana bill.” It’s a state and federal issue, she said and “I took an oath to uphold local, state, and federal law.” Councilman Ricky Burgess came back with “I do not in any way support the consumption of illegal drugs. The consumption of many legal drugs I do not support…I do not think people should drink alcohol.” Are these people trying to out-Puritan each other? Which council member is going to come out against pre-marital sex? Councilman O’Connor, I’m looking at you.

Councilman Burgess was wound up like a speeding freight train. Calling the effect of the drug war “worse than slavery,” he thundered that they hire white people in prisons “to make a living off of inner city black males.” He ended up voting yes on the “marijuana bill” and, like a true patriot, returned to fiddling with his cell phone.

After the drama subsided, Councilwoman Theresa Kail-Smith clutched her pearls and came out in favor of a year-round employment program for youths. Coincidentally, her teenage constituents came out with a consensus that “oh my god, we hate you, MOM.”

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Councilwoman Theresa Kail-Smith says “put down the XBox” and “pick up the want ads,” kids

Council president Kraus closed out the meeting by requesting everyone come to tomorrow’s opioid addiction seminar for his big speech. He paused and stared at Councilwoman Harris, who was apparently causing some commotion.

“Is there something wrong, councilwoman?”

“No, Mr. President. Nothing at all,” she replied, sounding just a teensy bit sarcastic.

On a lighter note, for those of you not attending the opioid meeting, Councilman Gilman will be having a city vs. county free-shooting competition tomorrow also.

Final thoughts: coming in just shy of 90 minutes, with a relatively tame public comment period and good behavior by everyone except for troublemaker Darlene Harris, I give the Pittsburgh City Council meeting 7 out of 10 stars.