Sticks & Stones
Writer’s Note:The City Council has approved the Decorum and Civility Policy. This column covers the week leading up to its passage. A city hall anonymous source, who swears his name is Anonymous, but insists to remain anonymous, provided the details. So, let the readers judge the veracity from this anonymous…I mean…unreliable source.
Yikes…things have gotten out of hand at recent City Council meetings. There have been too many rude people and discourteous exchanges. Mayor Bob Whalen has had enough. He couldn’t control the proceedings, so he scolded himself and sent himself to his room to think things over. The self-inflicted timeout comes with no dinner, too.
Knock. Knock. “Mayor, are you alright in there?” Silence. “Please come out. The city needs you.” More silence. “Talk to me. You’re not at fault. The people out here in city chambers are the rude ones. They need the timeout, not you. Just say something so I know you’re okay.” A cough, a sniffle, and then…“I hold myself hostage until I get my demands.” “What demands are those?” I ask. “I need the townspeople to come to their senses. I’ll let myself go if I get a list of more robust rules of decorum and civility for town meetings. Fetch me ideas. You can slide them under the door.”
I go to fetch. “Listen up people. The mayor has kidnapped himself. He’s being held hostage until we come up with ideas to keep these town meetings civil.” The crowd murmurs to one another not sure how to respond. Finally, a resident yells out, “How do we know it’s him?” Another chimes in, “Yes. We need proof of life, if we’re to trouble ourselves with more rules of conduct.”
Knock. Knock. “Mayor? Listen up. They won’t come up with more rules of conduct without your ear as proof of life.” The mayor asks, “They want my ear?” I answer, “What can I say? They’re an art community. That part of the body comes with the territory.” Minutes pass. “Okay then. I’m sliding it under the door now.”
“Yep, that’s the mayor’s ear,” says a resident. “No, it’s not. That ear is too big. His ears are much smaller.” A South Laguna resident adds, “It’s a trick. Let me show you.” He bends closer to the ear and whispers, “Bob…Bob…hello can you hear me. If it’s you…tell me where we ate lunch today.” Silence. “See. It’s not the Mayor’s ear. I say we ask for the other ear to be sure.” The crowd screams yes in support.
Knock. Knock. “Mayor. The city demands your other ear to compare.” “No problem. Here it is. Now get me those decorum ideas.” Back to chambers I go. “Here it is.” A City Council person looks it over. “Yep, I declare it’s a matched set. Take these new conduct ideas back to our mayor.
Back I go. “Mayor, I have good news.” “What? I can’t hear you.” I shout louder, “GOOD NEWS. I’M SLIDING CONDUCT IDEAS UNDER THE DOOR. LOOK THEM OVER.” A few minutes pass and the mayor says, “I can’t use these. My reading glasses won’t stay on.”
Crantz tells the Indy that sticks and stones will hurt mayor bones, but names, he’ll never hear them.
