Nothing but a tease, Wiz: Three hours of foreplay, and one resounding anti-climax.


My 3rd District councilman provided this gem of levity during a grueling council session last night:

“I’m never political … the difference between me and others is that I think differently financially … has anyone ever tried it my way?”

Sure they have, Mr. Price.

Go to Mississippi … or North Korea … and see for yourself.


Let’s keep the meeting recap simple.

The 1st District’s Dan Coffey pulled out every stop to make tonight’s city council meeting all about him.

And, fittingly, it was all about him … just not in the way he intended for it to be all about him … which means, in the end, that it indeed was all about him.

In the sense of abject failure, that is.

Councilman Mark Seabrook sensibly talked CM Coffey down from the ledge on the resolution to pour $2.5 million into the sewer utility, and the council unanimously approved placing the jail bond money into a non-reverting fund where it can’t be touched without council approval.

Just like the many other non-reverting funds dotting the budgetary landscape.

By the time that CM Coffey’s “drive a stake/through Scribner Place” resolution was introduced, many from the large pro-Scribner Place crowd had sensed that his proposed act of cultural vandalism was on shaky ground.

Both Mayor James Garner and council attorney Jerry Ulrich already had warned that CM Coffey’s attempted anti-pointy-head raspberry probably was illegal, and might well obligate the city to pay back Caesar’s and the EPA for expenses already incurred.

Fellow councilmen Jack Messer (“If nobody dreams, we’re dead”) and Donnie Blevins (“we need to move this city forward”) spoke at length about what it means to do the right thing.

Numerous pro-Scribner Place speakers marched forward to repeat the same things they’ve been forced to repeat countless times, through each of the Gang of Four’s gyrations over a period of years.

Faced with hardship and probable defeat, CM Coffey did what demagogues usually do. He tucked tail and ran, unceremoniously tabling an already gutless resolution, and naturally making a final feeble rhetorical effort to convince the crowd that he knows more about the art of the deal than Donald Trump, has a better grasp of finance than Alan Greenspan, and can do that little lip pout thing more effectively than Mick Jagger.

Once again, amid hoots of derision from the gallery, Toto drew the curtain away from the Wizard, and the Westsider was revealed to be little more than a small-timing schoolyard boor.


We’ll leave it to the comments section to cover the other occurrences last night.
Keep ‘em decent, eh?