Take This, Greeley

The Friday Letter hasn’t picked on the City of Greeley for some time now. Read #85, below. No mercy will be shown.

Green card survey

Last week’s mail brought a “survey” from the City of Greeley. The resident is expected to answer some really dumb questions about street maintenance.

The problem is, the resident can’t possibly have the information to answer the questions intelligently. That’s why the questions are dumb.

You’re supposed to answer the questions and drop the little green card in the mail. First question:

“Does the city spend enough money on street maintenance?”

I suggest no one knows the answer to that question. It’s not a yes-or-no thing. The question is meaningless unless you already know how much money the city spends on street maintenance, and whether the city is getting its money’s worth for that expenditure. No living being has that information.

Second question: “What would be an appropriate monthly cost per household/per business be for street maintenance?” Again, no one alive knows how to intelligently answer that question.
The city has thoughtfully provided check boxes, so you can answer from zero dollars per month to $30 per month. It’s guesswork, unadulterated malarkey.

How is a homeowner or a business operator supposed to know just exactly how much he should spend on street maintenance? Second dumb question in a row. There is no real answer to the question. So what, really, is the answer for which the city is fishing?

Question Three provides a clue: “What designated funding options would you support?”

Then you answer: sales tax increase, property tax increase, temporary assessment, street maintenance fee.

Now we’re on to the real reason for the survey, the crux of the issue. The city is gathering “data” to support some kind of tax increase.

They’ll use the results of the “survey” to rationalize their actions. It’s a handy way to blame it on the city’s residents, instead of on the bureaucrats, politicos, charlatans and assorted bozos -- where it really belongs.

It’s a huge deflective blame device. Mark my words. Whatever the city does to cover increased costs for street maintenance, it will be your fault.

Sound familiar?

Some weeks back there was a city election having to do with the legalities of walking your dog in a city park.

Since we’ve gone over to voting by mail, the letter carrier brought our ballots. This issue was such a hot one in city circles that it deserved a “Special Election.” Wow. Think of the cost. A special election over a dog poop issue.

I’ve never seen so much horse pucky printed on one piece of paper. Who can walk a dog, who picks up the poop, what dogs are allowed and what dogs aren’t. What dog trainers are allowed and which ones are not. What city parks are included, which ones excluded. Paragraph after laborious paragraph, all in indecipherable lawyer-speak.

It is time for a change in the dumb law prohibiting dogs in city parks. The original plan was to prevent an annoying and unhealthy accumulation of dog feces in areas where people would be playing Frisbee or having a picnic.

But that’s moot, considering how many acres of city lawn are covered inches deep in goose poop all the time anyway. Dog do-do accumulation is insignificant, comparably.

But whatever answer to the dogs-in-parks quandary is found, it’ll be the voters’ fault.

I say: stop the fuss about dogs in parks, shoot the damn geese, and feed their greasy little bodies to the homeless.

“Too busy”

Overheard at lunch: “Grampa, I would have written you an e-mail, but I was too busy. And, I would have called you over the weekend, but I was too busy.”

Grampa, in measured tones, responded. “Careful when you say that. You are being rude. You are being inconsiderate. You are being very transparent. You are prioritizing viciously, hurtfully.

“If you were ‘too busy’ to write your Grampa an e-mail, it means everything else you did all day and all night was more important than writing an e-mail to Grampa.

“You watched television for five hours. You smoked 18 cigarettes. You took an extra long shower because you deserved it. You texted your friend for an hour and a half. You went shopping for three hours. You spent 45 minutes driving around aimlessly. You spent 45 minutes getting your hair just right.

“Too busy? Balderdash. Malarkey. Grampa don’t buy it.”

Dirty laundry

We’ve just undergone a change in management for the rental properties. A forced change. We had no choice.

No big deal in the grand scheme of things.

People at the real estate agency which sponsors the rental management program had a crash-and-burn. Happens. Too bad.

What was of interest, though, is that the Big Kahuna at the agency called me up and hung out a big load of his very own dirty laundry for my benefit.

He thought he was accusing a former associate of this or that malfeasance. What he didn’t realize was that if funny stuff really had gone on, it was his responsibility, his culpability.

So he showed me his own dirty laundry. Being the skilled newspaper reporter that I am, I could have fished for some real juicy stuff.

Being the old Grampa who is tired of anybody’s dirty laundry, however, I just faded from the conversation. You wouldn’t miss the details anyway.

Got dirty laundry? Don’t hang it out in public until you first get things cleaned up. Got that, Mr. Big Kahuna?

Pick your battle

Ever get distracted? Consumed with road rage? Mad at a buffoon with whom you work?

Reading some of the stuff that is following after the inauguration, I very nearly got pointlessly enraged.

Mr. Obama re-hired all the old cronies from the corrupt Clinton years. Change? He was the one talking about change. He changed back. To the same old thieving chowder heads we thought we were done with.

I keep praying and saying to myself, “Pick your battles, big boy. Pick your battles.”

That’s why I picked a battle with the city this week instead of launching off on the Little Big Man in Washington.

Word of the week: Quaker. Makes you think of Quaker Oats, doesn’t it? But remember. This was originally a derisive term describing a member of the “Society of Friends,” founded by Englishman George Fox in about 1650.

Fox had admonished his followers to “quake at the word of the Lord.” Members believe in plainness of dress, good manners, religious worship. They are opposed to military service and do not use the word Quaker themselves.

Next week’s word: Impediment.

Gripes? Complaints? Whines? Comments? Adoration? Puppy love? Reciprocal rant? Feel free to express yourself in the comment section below!