Tag: government

#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.

#27: Minot, ND 6/6/16

Chronicling the Minot city council was like a chef finally tasting his pièce de résistance. I take full credit for this meeting, which would not be online if I hadn’t talked to one of Minot’s city council members. (Okay, fine, I take partial credit.)

Needless to say, I was amped! It’s the first videotaped council meeting in the history of Minot (rhymes with “Why not!”). Everyone’s gon’ get cray for the camera!

“Ugh,” the kindly old citizen at the podium sighed. “No one can tell me that downtown doesn’t deserve or need traffic lights,” he warily–almost sleepily–said about Minot’s de-stoplighting plan.

“Pedestrian count is way down? Hmm. They took it in February 5, 6, and 7. Do you know what the weather was like on February 5? 23.9 degrees below zero.” Another heavy sigh. “All I can say is, Lance, shame on you. You should be spanked.”

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The Minot city council, in all its low-res glory.

In the no-camera days, Lance may very well have been spanked on the spot. Instead, the city manager had the opposite of a spanking to give: “I’d like to recognize two folks,” he announced, unfolding a fellow Minoter’s letter. “The alley behind my house had been damaged. I had nothing but a big muddy mess,” he read. But “there were two very nice men in the alley this morning. They were nice, pleasant, and hardworking. My alley is beautiful!”

He glanced up. “So what I’d like to do…if you guys would go up there, the president of city council is going to give you a city coin.”

The two heroic employees ascended to the dais amid rapturous applause to receive their lucre.

After the good vibes subsided, the city manager smirked across the room. “The coin rule is: next time you see [council] President Jantzer anyplace, if he doesn’t have HIS coin on him, he owes you an adult beverage of your choice.” The council guffawed.

He added: “I haven’t given him one, so I KNOW he doesn’t have one!” Everyone whooped, but the city manager had one more roast up his sleeve.

“Mr. President, I wanted to show you–because he’s not here–the mayor is going to be in the dunking booth this Friday. So for all of you that wants to partake in this…”

President Mark Jantzer demurred. “It’s very…unexpected news. But we appreciate it!” The other aldermen snickered, no doubt calculating the training regimen needed to sink Hizzoner.

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Woohoo! That’s 56 more people who might show up to dunk the mayor!

Finally, the council called on a sprightly young staffer named Jason to present the flashy new recycling plan. “We’ve got less than 10 years of capacity,” at the Minot landfill, Jason apocalyptically warned. “What we’re proposing is curbside recycling, picked up and emptied by collection vehicles–with mechanical arms to lift the carts, empty the contents in the collection vehicle, and return them to the ground,” he said, describing that newfangled contraption called “a garbage truck.” For any aldermen still confused, he played a video of one doing its duty.

The council, apparently impressed with this 20th-century technology, voted in favor of the recycling plan.

Final thoughts: beautiful. My best work yet. To the city of Minot, may you continue to videotape your council meetings till the landfill runneth over.

Interview #4: Minot, ND Alderman Miranda Schuler

Minot may be small, but its city council is a force to be reckoned with. I talked to Miranda Schuler, insurance agent by day and one of Minot’s 14 aldermen.

She told me about her idea to shrink the council, and how City Council Chronicles is actually making a difference in Minot!

—

Q: You’ve got a plan to take the Minot city council from 14 members to eight. Who are you itching to get rid of?

A: Really…I think myself would be one of those people I would like to get rid of.

Q: Whoa! You’d draw yourself off of the council?!

A: I ran two years ago because I didn’t want to be one of those people who complains about something and doesn’t offer solutions. I have two young kids and I’m purchasing the business that I’m in, so I’m going to step back for a while.

Q: What are the other aldermen like?

A: One of the council members is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to construction. I would never pretend to know a lot of that stuff. We have an attorney on the council. Or, if has to do with something insurance related, a lot of people look to me.

Q: Mmhmm.

A: There are a couple that are better speakers. I am not a public speaker. It took me two years to be able to speak at council without feeling like I’m gonna start crying!

Q: At long city council meetings, how do you stay focused?

A: I’m kind of a geek. I’ve made my husband come to some meetings and he has a hard time staying awake. It takes a certain type of person who finds this stuff interesting. And you must be, too!

Q: I mean, when I’m watching at home, it’s slightly more…comfortable. You have to sit there in front of people.

A: You’re constantly on call. Last night I was getting Facebook messages at 11:45. They were quite upset. And they wanted to talk about it at midnight.

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Minot, ND Alderman Miranda Schuler

A: Interesting thing: when I originally started talking with you, I said, “Is there any way we can get some of these meetings published?” I could Facebook Live it, but it’s going to look goofy if I’m sitting at a council desk with my phone.

Q: Probably.

A: [We] actually recorded our meeting on Monday. It’s going on our website.

Q: Wait…the first EVER video-recorded council meeting was this Monday?

A: It’s already online. It’s a result of my talk with you via e-mail. So good job!

Q: Whoa! Good teamwork!

A: You can’t see me because I’m out of the shot.

Q: Oh, well, that barely seems worth it. I was going to ask you to describe the council chambers, but I guess I can watch the video now.

A: I would describe it as an early 1990s council chambers.

Q: Gotcha. Lots of pictures of the Backstreet Boys on the walls.

A: Yeah. Backstreet Boys are there. (Just kidding!)

Q: Who would win in a foosball tournament: the Minot city council or the Williston city council?

A: I’m pretty sure we would because I grew up with a foosball table in my house. I would come in handy.

Q: You think you’d carry the Minot city council?

A: Yeah. It really needs to be stated whether you could spin them. Because I’m not a spinner.

#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.

#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.