Every morning, I sit on the front porch, stare into the middle distance for a while, and then read the local and national news. I do not recommend this. You should probably start your morning off with something slightly more pleasant, like sitting on your keys weird or eating a live tarantula.
I don’t think I’m telling any tales out of school when I say that just recently, Martinsville City Council has been far more dysfunctional than usual. It’s never a good sign when the city’s provincial internecine squabbling breaches containment and begins to get highlighted by bigger regional news agencies. The city of Martinsville has become interesting to people outside of the area in the same way that it would be interesting to watch a train derail into a circus: fascinating to watch, but you don’t want to be inside the big top when it happens.
I’m not going to get into who’s right and who’s wrong in the embarrassing unfolding drama that has now resulted in the mayor getting suspended from city council. Assignment of blame is incidental to the larger problem, which is that this situation is making us look ridiculous. If I were a business owner considering investing in Martinsville, I’d read one news article and decide to invest in a city with less drama and infighting, like that town Tina Turner ran in the third Mad Max movie.
If the city is going to thrive, we need to get this situation under control.
Thankfully, I have a cunning plan to save Martinsville, which I will outline below.
The first step, I’m afraid, is that we’ll have to kick everyone off city council. Sorry guys. I know some of you are getting caught in the crossfire here, but this is an important step towards the future. We’ll see to it that you are all provided with an Edible Arrangement and a mostly unused Starbucks gift card.
Next, we must scour the nation for five new council members. Qualified candidates will need to meet the following criteria:
-They must have experience with city management.
-They must have been successful in their roles in city management.
-They must be cool, collected, logical, and in no way prone to drama or emotional outbursts.
-Most importantly, they must have absolutely no connections to Martinsville. They cannot have ever lived in the city. They cannot know anybody who has ever lived in the city. If they cannot find Martinsville on a map, that will be considered a plus.
Once the top five candidates have been selected, they will be moved to Martinsville and appointed to city council. But here’s the catch: their identities will be as closely guarded as if they were in Witness Protection. They will be banned from mentioning to anyone that they serve on city council. Their identities will never be revealed to the public. In fact, their identities will never even be revealed to each other. No one will ever know their gender, or age, or race, or religion, or race, or background, or race, or even their race.
The challenge, of course, is that city council will still need to meet publicly and interact with the community.
I have come up with a brilliant solution.
We’ll find an old abandoned Showbiz Pizza and purchase the animatronic house band. This band (The Rock-afire Explosion for the uninitiated) will be permanently installed in city council chambers and retrofitted so that each anonymous city council member can, from an undisclosed private location, speak to the public through the mouth of their own appointed robot animal. The mayor, of course, will voice the lead guitarist/hillbilly bear Billy Bob Brockali, while the Vice-Mayor will voice the delightful keyboard-playing gorilla Fatz Geronimo. At the end of each city council meeting, the band will ask if any members of the public are celebrating their birthday, and if so, they will play a little birthday song.
Frankly, I think this part of the idea is worth pursuing even if we don’t do the rest of it. If my taxes are about to go up, hearing the news from a goofy bear wearing red and yellow striped overalls would really soften the blow.
“But wait!” some will say. “I want city council members who know the history of this area and are passionate about the job!” No, no you don’t. I’ve been watching that strategy play out for a couple decades now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the last thing we need in Martinsville is people who feel strongly about things. Nothing would benefit the city more than the leadership of a team of qualified, talented, and utterly dispassionate number crunchers who make decisions based solely on mathematical trends and best practices. It would create a utopia.
I realize that most people who read a column about replacing our city council with a bunch of emotionless CPAs who speak to the public through an animatronic animal band from the ‘80s will dismiss it as being nothing more than a joke. But look in your heart and honestly ask yourself: would it be any worse?
Column Sponsored by: Dr. Mensink