Tag: news

#15: Danville, VA 5/5/16

Danville may not be the biggest city. Or the best city. Or even the best city named Danville (it’s Danville, California, obvi). But it has one thing that other cities do not:

The most annoyingly-cheerful sons-of-b’s on city council.

Mayor Sherman Saunders rose with a proclamation for the 50th anniversary of the city’s Goodyear plant. “Whereas the Goodyear tire and rubber company broke ground in DANVILLE,” he said, practically shouting the city name. “And whereas Goodyear DANVILLE is DANVILLE’s largest employer–” at this point, the two representatives from Goodyear were suppressing laughter as the Honorable Mayor bellowed “Danville” every other sentence.

“I, Sherman M. Saunders, mayor, city of DANVILLE do hereby commend Goodyear DANVILLE on its 50th anniversary in DANVILLE, Virginia.” He glanced at the room with a kingly defiance.

“Yeah, I’m proud to say ‘DANVILLE.’ That’s right!”

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Don’t tell Mayor Sherman Saunders that someone didn’t put “DANVILLE” in all caps

“Thank you, and we look forward to another 50 years of good service in Danville,” the company’s representatives responded, opting not to scream the city name. It didn’t matter–there was already a huge lovefest for Goodyear in the crowd.

“I worked at Goodyear and I built on the U2s,” the mayor reminisced.

“I also worked at Goodyear,” boasted Councilman James Buckner.

“Goodyear is Danville and Danville is Goodyear,” Councilman  J. Lee Vogler, the resident poet, freestyled.

Next, the sheriff came forward to talk about the first annual Youth Day on Saturday–complete with music, a basketball free throw competition, and hundred-yard dash.

“Do you have something for [people] over 65?” Councilman John Gilstrap cheekily inquired.

“Serving hot dogs,” the sheriff retorted.

Gilstrap chuckled. “I can do that!”

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The council, looking jazzed about Youth Day

Youth Day wasn’t the only big ticket item in town–and not even the only one featuring wieners: “The community market opens this Saturday,” Councilman Buckner reported. “Make sure you stop by at the time I’m working because I’m gonna make hands down the best hot dogs.”

Vice-Mayor Gary Miller called bullsh*t: “Mr. Buckner may think he makes the best hot dogs, but I’m gonna produce the healthiest ones. I’m gonna have turkey dogs,” he bragged, to groans from the council. “That are healthy for you.”

“There goes my appetite,” the mayor gagged. It sounds like the vice-mayor will have plenty of leftovers. Thanksgiving dinner at the Miller house? Turkey hot dogs.

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Would you eat a turkey hot dog from this man?

Before the meeting adjourned, Mayor Saunders flipped on his mic, leaned back, and speechified like a Sunday preacher. “I want to thank the voters who reelected me just a few days ago. I maintain–you’re gonna hear it four more years–DANVILLE is a great city.

“Yes, we do have issues to work on and we are working on them. But the minute number of people who are causing these negative issues….they will be caught and they WILL be stopped.”

The mayor was all worked up and now spitting pure verse.

“There is no despair here in DANVILLE. Thank you for electing us.

“Thank you for supporting us.

“Thank you for believing in us.

“And thank you for being a part of the great city…of DANVILLE, VIRGINIA.”

Final thoughts: I loved this meeting as much as Mayor Saunders loves screaming theword “DANVILLE.” I give it 8/10 turkey hot dogs.

—

UPDATE: 11:33 a.m. THIS GUY!

#14: Northport, AL 5/2/16

As the classic song goes, “Sweet home Alabama / Where the skies are so blue and the city council meetings get ’em riled up like General Lee’s army.”

The warning shot was fired by a grizzled Northport veteran who wasted no time during public comment in waving the rebel flag. “We now have regular traffic jams at all hours of the day and early evening,” he charged.

“The speed of cars along Fifth Street going 45, 50, 60 miles an hour has unfortunately become commonplace–and the noise pollution of cars and trucks.” He gave one final push on his verbal bayonet. “I wouldn’t invite my two-year-old granddaughter to come and visit me in Northport until this situation changes.”

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Remember: the Civil War was started because of traffic concerns

How would Mr. Lincoln’s army respond? Council President Jay Logan chose retreat. “I know your wife came up two weeks ago and expressed an interest in traffic control…I can’t really give you a solution right now just simply because it’s still considered a state highway.”

Councilman Bert Sims made a run to join enemy lines. “When I’m eating at Billy’s [Sports Grill], I’m very nervous for pedestrians. When that light’s green…they have at it like they’re at Talladega.”

One councilman down. A traitor to his cause.

The next skirmish was a big’un: Jody Jobson, himself a former city councilman, strode up to the front line. Brother against brother. Heartbreaking. War is hell.

“Are you familiar with any slush funds in this past administrator’s office?” Jobson assailed.

Mayor Herndon sat up. “Slush funds?”

“Slush funds,” Lieutenant Jobson responded. “That nobody on the council had access to except [the recently resigned city manager]?”

“No, sir, I do not,” the mayor returned fire. “And it’d be better if you–if you’re gonna be talking about an individual that’s not an employee of the city of Northport–”

“Well you get on the radio and talk about it…you get on the TV and talk about it,” Jobson flanked Hizzoner.

Mayor Herndon refused to give ground. “With good cause, good reason.”

Corporal Jobson laid into the mayor about how the former city administrator moved money from one fund to another without a council vote. Then, mid-sentence, a loud, piercing siren sounded. Did General Grant surrender? Had Johhny Reb captured Fort Northport?

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Artist’s rendering of the bloody Battle of Mount Slush Fund

No, Jody’s time was up.

But he wasn’t going quietly. “I was fixin’ to call for a state audit because you just don’t– you don’t move funds from one to another without a vote. And he doesn’t have any authority to do that unless council does it.”

Score one for the Union. A slow clap from the graycoats greeted Jobson as he sat down.

As they prepared to celebrate the ceasefire, council President Logan had one final dispatch from Mr. Lincoln’s war room. “We had a safety fair Saturday and Councilman Sullivan and I participated in a dunking booth. So if you missed the opportunity to dunk me and Rodney…you just missed it.”

Councilman Sullivan muttered, “I’m glad they missed it.” Clearly, he was shaken from narrowly avoiding Jody Jobson’s sustained volley. Lord knows what that man could do with a dunking booth in his crosshairs.

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“Dearest Nelly: I narrowly survived the dunking booth today. I only wish divine Providence had spared Councilman Sullivan.”

Final thoughts: Let’s just pray these boys make it home to their wives. And that the country never again sees the horror of the battlefield.*

*dunking booth

#11: Oklahoma City, OK 4/26/16

Friction. Discord. Tumult. For a place nicknamed “The Big Friendly,” this week’s Oklahoma City council meeting was anything but. Put on some sunscreen and drink plenty of liquids–the People’s Business is about to get heated.

It all started out smoothly enough. Telegenic Mayor Mick Cornett handed awards to the basketball team and the police department. But when Hizzoner brought up the subject of new development in the city, one councilman lit up the mic.

“It’s basically equivalent to a Ponzi scheme,” cried councilman and spinal care doctor Ed Shadid. He was enraged at developers who plopped down houses on the edge of town, forcing the city to pay for roads and such. Meanwhile, his inner city neighborhoods were crumbling. “We’re building sidewalks while neighborhoods in the core don’t have sidewalks!”

“We put public dollars in some of those places before anybody was living out there,” this modern-day Robin Hood lamented. “I have kids walking in the middle of the street” because of crappy sidewalks.

Crotchety Councilman Pete White, elected way back in 1982 when Doc Shadid was barely out of diapers, grunted, “You’re not king. I’m not king. We need to get off the conversation and into action.”

The mayor called a vote: 8-1, with Shadid and his inner city kids losing.

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This beautiful road is the reason Councilman Ed Shadid’s kids have no sidewalks.

A citizen named Amber rose to address the council. Her husband was driving in a January snowstorm when he hit a pothole that majorly banged up their car. She sent the bill to the city, but the claim was denied.

“We do have images from Google Maps from 2015 that also show the pothole was visible,” Amber said, waving the picture.

“Do you have any other evidence?” Councilman Mark Stonecipher pressed.

“In 2011 there was a city agenda that discussed repairs and improvements that needed to be done on the street,” Amber answered slyly. Hold the g–d– phone. In this very room…in front of these very people…well, I’ll let the councilman connect the dots.

“What you’re saying is we were proposing to fix the road and we did not do that for that area?”

Amber: “Yes.”

Mic dropped. Mind blown. The council agreed they should probably pay the claim.

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Methinks they could have fixed that pothole if they heeded Councilman Ed Shadid’s warning.

It was time for councilmember comments. And Councilman John A. Pettis, Jr. had some muck to rake.

“It’s been a while since I’ve given the Ward 7 sermon,” he wheezed. “Normally my sermons are an hour. But I’ll do a sermon in less than 15 minutes.”

The target of his rage was the school district. “They have not been upfront and honest with us about their intention,” he fretted. And regarding recently-dismissed superintendent Rob Neu,  “I am glad that he’s gone.”

At this point, Councilman White snapped, “I don’t think this is any of our business.”

“I’m gonna talk about it and I did talk about it,” Councilman Pettis retorted.

“You can obviously talk longer and louder than I can but it doesn’t make you right,” Councilman White growled. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Luckily, Councilwoman Meg Salyer grabbed her mic and rambled about the arts festival, putting everyone at ease.

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Councilman Pete White: “I’ve killed manlier men than you.”

Final thoughts: First we had councilman vs. city. Then citizen vs. city. And finally councilman vs. councilman. This was a slugfest and it wasn’t pretty. I give this meeting 4 out of 5 kids walking in the street.

#10: Delaware, OH 4/25/16

If you were passing through Delaware, Ohio, you could’ve watched “The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.” No, not the Clint Eastwood movie. I’m talking about this week’s city council meeting, which was such an adrenaline-filled roller-coaster ride, pregnant women should stop reading now.

First, the good news: Delaware needs more money to par-tay! “In case you haven’t noticed, we are going to have a record number of openings of parks, etc. over the next several weeks,” assistant city manager Jacqueline Walker boasted. “To celebrate these accomplishments for the citizens, we’re trying to”–get some strippers and champagne, ya’ll!–“have an additional $9,500 to pay for these openings as well as investing in a tent that actually has the City of Delaware logo.”

Oh, hell yeah! You can do anything in a tent–start a mosh pit, pass out city-branded key chains…Delaware, you nasty! Although, there’s one thing you can’t do in the tent: sit.

“You’re gonna have a tent? What about chairs?” asked Councilman Joe DiGenova, a huge fan of tush-resting.

“The tent that we’re looking at is a small place,” the assistant city manager explained. Okay, so maybe no mosh pit. Or even a barbecue pit. You’d be lucky to have room for peach pits in there.

Next up: the bad. During public comment, resident Dwayne “My Real Name” Johnson scissor-kicked the local watering hole.

“Does the city council currently have any plans to build a full size pool?” Johnson attacked.

“Well, we have a pool at Mingo [Park],” Mayor Carolyn Kay Riggle defended.

“If you go there during the summer, you can’t find a place to put your towel down and the pool’s full,” he body slammed her argument.

Councilman George Hellinger tagged in, saying they built a splash pad at Veterans Memorial Park.

“Why would you put a splash pad in rather than a regular pool like Mingo that has a kid’s pool?” Johnson heart punched.

“Well, now all the kids will be at the splash pad,” the mayor laughed nervously, sensing the K.O.

“Adults and teenagers are not going to sit on a splash pad. That’s not gonna happen.” Boom! Down for the count. The Need-Another-Pool Avenger does a massive take down of his arch-nemesis: the Delaware City Council.

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Dwayne Johnson: slayer of giants, enthusiast of empty pools

Finally, the ugly. It seems that there’s trash mysteriously appearing downtown, and Councilwoman Lisa Keller is patient zero. “I’ve become the face of downtown trash,” she warned. “I get messages that there’s trash–with pictures–and I forward them to the city manager. I’m happy to do it, but there’s got to be a better way.”

Councilman Herrington cut in: “‘I am the face of garbage in Delaware.’ That’s a great headline.”

Assistant city manager Walker took pity on the councilwoman from the Trashpile District. “That may not be sustainable for them to come out and pick that up. I agree with you, you shouldn’t be the face of that.” Things could be worse: she could be the face of the urine-saturated Mingo Park pool instead.

Final thoughts: I’m disappointed the council did not find the obvious solution: seal the new tent, fill it up with water so Dwayne can swim in it–and in exchange for his private pool, he has to pick up trash downtown.

#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.

#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.