Never Look a Gift Racehorse in the Mouth

by Councilman Dong (Place 8)

Often times I’m overcome with a sudden low and vibratory chortle that escalates into a full blown bout of laughter. If I’m lucky, I am alone when it happens, but if that’s not the case, I feel obliged to explain my uncontrollable outburst to those who witness it. People who don’t know me, of course, will nod reassuringly as I tell them about my prolonged exposure to mustard gas during the War of 1812 or about a gene singular to my royal Egyptian blood line. My friends, however, know that I’m a compulsive liar and could care less when or why I laugh.

But I laugh nonetheless. I laugh at the long, hot summer days in Texas. I laugh because I don’t know why. I laugh because something is funny, I guess, which reminds me that I need to call Bram and ask him about a pillow. He and I were in his office last week laughing about some technicality preventing him from building on his property, and I said something to the effect that he could build whatever he liked provided that his papers were in order. I really stressed the word papers, as in paper money, and winked when I said it, and it was funny because it was unnecessary. We both knew he’d pay me when the time was right.

Don’t get the wrong idea, though. A commercial developer like Bram doesn’t approach a city council member and say that he’d like to pay him for certain favors. It’s more subtle. A guy like Bram will have one of his employees tell you it’s a shame that the infrastructure isn’t in place to construct a Town Center at 3467 Rocky Road, a twenty acre tract of land situated in the E.C. Moran Survey, etc. The next thing you know, it’s being suggested by the shadows that you own a stake in the leasing mechanism for said development or, and this is my personal favorite, the shadowy visage of Bram gives you twenty thousand dollars in exchange for certain capital improvements. Maybe “subtlety” isn’t the right word, after all.

In fact, the whole plan is the exact opposite of subtle unless me and the rest of the council can subtly plunge the city 64 million dollars into debt, subtly rezone large tracts of land from residential to commercial, subtly cut down thousands of majestic trees, subtly widen sleepy residential streets to three and four times their current width, subtly hand out lucrative design contracts to the same firms that draft the projections and assumptions for future capital improvements, subtly violate the law by not recording our executive sessions, and last but not least, subtly ignore the protests and petitions of an outraged public.

I feel that low and vibratory chortle coming on. Maybe it’s because Bram isn’t picking up the phone. I need to ask him what it means that I can’t sleep well at night. Didn’t he mention a kind of pillow that conforms to your head and helps you sleep? What was the name of that pillow? I could use a pillow like that. I was thinking about it as I walked along Rocky Road today with yellow ribbon in my pocket. Not real ribbon, mind you. It was imaginary ribbon that I was imaginarily tying to trees that extended beyond my imaginary measuring tape where I had, in my imagination, decided the edge of the road we’re building for Bram would be located. Yes, the road is real. We just haven’t built it yet.

I admit to feeling some shame that all of those trees will come down to make way for Bram’s road, but it’s the price of progress. People are the price of progress, too, but you can’t take down people. You can pay them, or lie to them, or both. Sometimes you don’t even have to pay them, but you always have to lie because the truth will never have the right appeal. Can you imagine telling a concerned citizen that you could care less about them so long as Bram gets his Town Center? No, it’s hard enough keeping a straight face when voting on matters in open session. No need to add truth-telling to the burden.

Besides, concerned citizens are a pain in the ass. They clamor with their petitions and nasty emails and comments during the council meetings, and it’s all so tedious and annoying. They say we’re hiding the truth when the truth is that most people support the council’s construction plans. Not one of the twelve-thousand, six-hundred, and eighty-seven residents who participated in the imaginary survey that I conducted on my thirty minute lunch break the other day opposed the Rocky Road project, well, except for my neighbor, but he’s a real jerk. Really, that’s not my imagination. He’s a Class A jerk.

But dealing with the jerks and their silly visions is just part of a council member’s job. I imagine if the jerks’ vision for our city were realized, then we’d have sustainable, neighborhood-friendly development that generated adequate tax revenues while complimenting the citizens’ lifestyles, but I don’t know if complimenting lifestyles is what Bram has in mind, so I can’t comment. As a politician, I’m always not commenting on something that might cast my commercial developer friends in a bad light.

Okay, I must sleep now. I’ve been lying in bed for hours, and it just occurred to me that Bram isn’t answering his phone because it’s three in the morning. I’ll send him a bouquet of flowers tomorrow expressing my sincere apologies for calling at this hour. Maybe if I had a space foam pillow I’d be asleep already, or if I could resist looking a gift racehorse in the mouth, or if those pesky jerks could be felled like trees. You know, forget the flowers. I’ll get someone in public works to recommend a huge sanitary sewer project that services Bram’s property. He’ll like that because I bet a lot of pooping goes on at a Town Center.

Maybe that’s right – maybe it’s called a space foam pillow. I really need to ask Bram about that. It’s my number one priority.