Tag: politics

#36: Toronto, ON 7/12/16

Oh, baby! It’s Canada Week here at the Chronicles! I hope you packed a passport and your curling uniform, because we’re off to the Toronto city council meeting.

Meeting? Sorry. I meant “endurance test.”

These hardy Maple Leafers hunkered down for T-E-N H-O-U-R-S. And as it turns out, ten hours in Canada converts to ten AMERICAN hours as well. Lucky me.

Speaking of America, Mayor John Tory began by saying goodbye to Toronto’s Philadelphia-bound transportation manager–and good luck. “If there are any circumstances which TRUMP your desire to return home, you’ll always be most welcome here,” he remarked dryly as the room erupted in laughter.

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Oh, yeah? Well…who’s your president? A moose? Ha, burned.

Next came the excruciating process of figuring out a.) who wanted b.) to say what c.) and when on the city budget. (Hint: every. body. wanted. to. talk.)

“On page 10,” Councilor Michael Thompson politely requested, “I’m just wondering, is it possible to have this Thursday morning as a first item–”

Loud grumbles rolled in from councilors who had Thursday morning in their crosshairs.

“There’s also a desire to hold the supervised injection [debate] at that time!” Councilor Joe Mihevc protested.

Council Speaker Frances Nunziata raised a hand. “I’m sorry but Councilor Thompson had his name before yours,” she curtly shut him down. It’s a reminder of that old saying: “the early bird gets the sweet Thursday morning discussion slot.”

It was a minor tiff–but by hour 2.5, tempers really flared.

During routine questioning of the city manager, Councilor James Pasternak casually inquired about sloppy staff recommendations: “What strategies do you have to make sure that shenanigans stops?”

As the city manager defended himself, Councilor Gord Perks perked up.

“Councilor Pasternak just described city staff’s budget process as ‘shenanigans,'” the wavy-haired man complained.  “I ask that he withdraw that.”

“Madam Speaker, Councilor Perks has twisted my words!” protested Pasternak.

The speaker was on his side. “Continue,” she ordered Pasternak. Then she froze. “Councilor Perks is challenging my ruling.” One off-mic councilor hollered what sounded like a profanity. This is amazing–I’m already googling “how to move to Canada.”

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You challenge a Canadian speaker by hip-checking her on the ice rink.

A high-pitched chime pulsed in the chamber–like a creepy kid’s toy–signaling that councilors had to vote on whether to back their fearless leader.

Final tally: 23-9. The speaker wins.

After break to eat lunch and walk off the crankiness, councilors returned to a familiar dilemma: cut services or raise taxes?

“There’s a number of things we do as a city that we don’t have to be doing,” Councilor Giorgio Mammoliti grumbled. “We don’t have to be in the childcare business! Why the hell aren’t we talking about this stuff?!”

Another councilor–ever polite–corrected him. “Heck.”

Mammoliti scowled. “Hell.”

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Others are visibly shocked by Councilor Mammoliti’s language.

It was the bottom of the ninth (hour). The humans were tired but, oddly enough, the machines were even tireder.

As Councilor Thompson spoke, several loud booms rocked the sound system.

Then…dead mic.

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s going on,” the speaker shrugged, not entirely upset at this gentle suggestion by Fate.

“Shut ‘er down!” shouted Councilor Shelley Carroll, chomping to get out of Dodge.

Unluckily for her, the mics rebooted, letting Councilor Thompson inch the meeting across the ten-hour line. Ugh, I’m getting too old for this sh…enanigans.

Final thoughts: Stay tuned! There’s more Canada Coverage on Wednesday and Friday!

Interview #6: Portland, OR Commissioner Amanda Fritz

After watching the Portland city council meeting, I, like many of you, was confused. Hungry. Thirsty. So after I ordered a pizza and poured a glass of Merlot, I called up local Commissioner Amanda Fritz to get the Bridgetown scoop.

We talked about public commenters, regret, and looking good for the cameras.

—

Q: Despite your thick Portland accent, you grew up somewhere else, right?

A: I was born and raised in England.

Q: Have you ever seen council city meetings over there?

A: No, I’ve watched Parliament but not city councils.

Q: Is Parliament similar to the Portland city council?

A: Not really. There’s no citizen testimony–it’s just all politicians pontificating.

Q: Let’s pretend it’s one hour before the council meeting. What are you doing to get in the zone?

A: We get the agenda the week before. So Friday afternoon and Monday and Tuesday my staff are looking at every single issue that’s going to be coming up. When I get to work at about nine on Wednesday, most of the time I’m just remembering to put my no-shine powder on because of the HDTV, getting my tea, getting breakfast.

Q: Portland’s meetings can be brutal. How do you stay focused?

A: For me, it’s not hard because you’ve got dozens of eyes watching you either in the audience or on television. It’s really important that you recognize you’re onstage. Being onstage constantly for three or four hours knowing that thousands of people may be watching at home is exhausting.

Q: I never thought about it that way! Do you have any training as a stage actor?

A: [Laughs] Only what I did in high school.

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Portland, OR Commissioner Amanda Fritz

Q: Say I’m coming in to testify for three minutes. What do I need to do to impress you?

A: What you should’ve done is send in your comments beforehand.

Q: So…don’t come in? That’s your advice?

A: No, do both! There are very few people who could persuade you in three minutes to completely change your mind. Then it’s basically the rules of advertising: tell them, tell them what you told them, and tell them again. And then get other people to testify.

Q: Is there anything you’ve regretted saying during a city council meeting that has stuck with you?

A: I always go home thinking, “gosh, I should have said this instead of that.” Very rarely do you believe that you’ve completely nailed a speech or a performance. So there’s always that “I could have done this better.”

Q: Portland’s HDTV is really amazing. Were you nervous at first that you would have to spend more time in hair and makeup?

A: Well, my hair doesn’t behave anyway, but it was Laural Porter–who is a TV reporter–it was she who festooned me with powder and explained about the “HD shine.” Ever since then, I’ve been dutifully putting my HD powder on before meetings. I’ve noticed that I don’t shine and the boys do. Either nobody’s told them about the powder or else they think it’s not a manly thing to do.

Q: Have you ever nudged one of them and whispered, “Commissioner, you’re shining right now.”

A: We had a commissioner who had a very bald head which would shine rampantly. I may have mentioned it to him but I don’t think he ever took me up on it.

Follow Commissioner Amanda Fritz on Twitter: @AmandaFritzRN

Shout-out #1: London, OH

A few weeks ago I chronicled the London, Ohio city council meeting. To refresh your memory, it was a real humdinger, with the mayor’s “fun fact” being that he lit a barrel on fire downtown. You know–the People’s Business.

Well, a little Buckeye Birdie told me that London City Hall took notice.

Sure enough, during last week’s city council meeting, His Honor the mayor had a few choice words for the Chronicles:

Mayor: Now on to the mayor fun fact. Some of you already know we’re starting to get some national attention. There’s a man out there by the name of Michael Karlik who has a hobby of reviewing city council meetings from all over the United States…everybody has their own hobbies, I guess.

[Collective sigh from council members. One councilwoman lays her head on the desk.]

Hobby? I think you meant “public service,” sir.

Mayor: I’m not sure how he stumbled upon ours, but he did. And he wrote about us and tagged me on Facebook and Twitter. And it was about our June 16 meeting. Most of the focus was on my mayor fun fact last month, which I talked about lighting a barrel on fire in downtown London for the movie. So I thought I would pay him the ultimate compliment by making him my mayor fun fact for this meeting.

I am genuinely honored, Your Honor! I’m sure the flaming barrel feels the same way!

Mayor: The writing was actually very witty and well done, I thought. I got a good laugh out of it and it was pretty interesting, so if you guys want to go back and look at it, most of you guys were mentioned in the article. It’s under councilchronicles.com. So you guys can check that out. I just thought it was pretty funny.

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Is anyone else crying because they have something in their eye?

I am deeply grateful to the mayor for his shout-out at the city council meeting. So much so that I am officially naming London, Ohio as a “Friend of the Chronicles.” With that status, of course, comes the right of prima nocta over all other city councils, plus this trophy.

TROP

Readers, if you ever find yourselves passing through London, remember to stop and give the mayor a pat on the back and a smooch on the cheek. Then gently whisper in his ear, “You’ve been chronicled!”

#34: Riverton, WY 7/5/16

Wyoming may be the Wild West, but this week’s Riverton city council meeting was anything but rowdy. It was downright calm. Sedate.

Even–as you’ll see–sad.

There was a glimmer of drama at the top of the hour, as some dum-dum booked the city council meeting AND the Finance Committee meeting for the same time. Great, now everyone has to wait on some loooooong, booooooring committee. Grab a pillow!

“I would move for claims to be paid in the amount of $189,402.59,” Council Member Martin Cannan began.

“I’ll second it,” responded Council Member Holly Jibben–coincidentally the second and only other person on the Finance Committee. “All in favor say aye.”

Two ayes–one bass, one soprano. “Meeting adjourned,” Council Member Jibben leaned back as the meeting fizzled after 55 seconds.

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Hey, Riverton, do they make your committees in men’s sizes?

The camera zoomed out to reveal Mayor John “Lars” Baker with shirt sleeves rolled up. He tapped his pen impatiently as the first public commenter approached–a man with a bushy mustache and a shirt as red as the Wyoming sunset.

“My wife and I, we have a, uh,” the man started, suddenly bracing himself against the podium, his voice cracking. “Excuse me…two-year-old German Shepherd. My wife caught the dog eating a piece of tar paper in our backyard. There’s tar paper, fiber glass insulation, home insulation” from a nearby construction project.

“May 3, our dog had a seizure. Up to this date he’s had nine seizures.” The man clutched his mouth and fought back tears.

“They’ve got all kinds of stuff stacked–it gets shredded in the wind and blows right into our yard. I would hope something can be done. We had to put a dog down two years ago,” he broke down once more at the memory, “and I don’t wanna do it again.”

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Sometimes city council meetings are sad, boys and girls.

Mayor Baker uncomfortably attempted to play grief counselor. “Well, this has certainly been quite an ordeal for you,” he winced.

A staff member jumped in: “We do quite often talk to [construction crews] about a lot of that. But obviously we need to do it more,” she looked into the citizen’s tearful eyes sympathetically.

“We’ll keep plugging away,” the mayor mumbled, staring blankly at the man with the sick dog. “Okay? Thank you.”

His Honor didn’t exactly radiate empathy. But here’s the thing: Mayor Baker does not show any emotion. Calling him “low energy” vastly exaggerates the amount of energy he has. The man could put a case of Red Bull to sleep.

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Someone pump up the mayor–he’s deflating!

Look no further than his reaction to news that the airport just added a flight. “We need to encourage people to use the airport,” the city administrator cheerfully explained. “Many of us attended the ribbon cutting ceremony. I think we put five passengers on there and they all felt like celebrities!”

Terrific story, yes, your honor?

“We’re excited about this airplane and, uh…boy, I just hope that people will fly,” the mayor sighed, sounding neither excited nor hopeful. “If people respond to that and fly Riverton, we will be in the airline business again.” I cannot convey how truly funereal Riverton’s mayor sounded. Except to tell you–I’m not exaggerating–that he barely paused before adding:

“The other thing today…we had a funeral for Dianne Tippets.”

#32: Lebanon, IN 6/27/16

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But sadly, Lebanon has a dark, noisy underbelly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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More like Chief Buzzkill

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

#28: Phoenix, AZ 6/15/16

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Councilwoman Pastor, are you on the phone?”

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

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

“Yes!” the voice screeched.

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The mayor’s “I-hear-voices” face

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

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

“I think I should,” she chuckled nervously.

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

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This man wants his FULL two minutes, Timekeeper!

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

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

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

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

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.

#26: San Francisco, CA 6/7/16

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

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

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

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

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

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The City by the Lei

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, she was the only one.

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

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

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

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Can I follow you on Vine, dude?

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

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

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

#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.