Our apologies for not sniffing this out sooner, but remember those four little words that incited a brouhaha among local electoids last summer — and regular ha-ha’s among the rest of us?
There they are, hanging on the wall of Pierce County Council chambers: “In God We Trust.”
Inscribed below, on a separate plaque, are three more words for folks who prefer their civic mottos with a Latin beat: “E Pluribus Unum.”
All of last year’s religious-secular melodrama seems silly in hindsight — actually, it seemed silly in foresight, too — considering that the two locally handcrafted plaques are barely noticeable.
Unbeknownst to us, they’ve been mounted in the back corner of the room since January, next to a heating/air-conditioning register and a video production booth window.
No ceremonial dedication took place. No sit-in protests, either.
Golly, if only our leaders had spent all those hours openly discussing vital matters of public spending and policy. Like, whether to commit $70 million — er, let’s make that $127 million ... hold on, with financing costs it’s really $235 million — to build a new government Tower of Power.
Now maybe moving crews will never have to go to the trouble of packing up those plaques and hauling them down Pacific Avenue.
Alternate plaques we’d like to see prominently displayed:
• “In the County Executive’s Math We Trust.”
• “In God We Trust; Everyone Else We Might Sue.”
• “In the USGA We Trust; It Might As Well Be God.”
Where’s the beef?: More than two decades have passed since Hollywood immortalized Puget Sound insomniacs in the classic rom-com “Sleepless in Seattle.”
Now we finally get a sequel.
“Meatless in Tacoma.”
Spoiler alert: It has nothing to do with Lent.
So far, Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan haven’t signed on to the project.
It’s a story about a U.S. mayor who attracts love letters from special-interest groups around the country wanting her to issue decrees on their behalf. She ends up falling for a heartfelt plea from the Farm Animal Rights Movement.
Will the story climax with a rendezvous atop the Empire State Building? No, but maybe the mayor and the vegans will get together and nosh on a Buddha Wrap at the Top of Tacoma.
Mayor Marilyn Strickland, you see, has proclaimed Tacoma an herbivore’s utopia on Friday (March 20). She encourages citizens to step outside their comfort zones with her (she’s a meat eater on most days) in conjunction with the national “Meatout,” an annual day to raise awareness about the benefits of a plant-based diet.
Go to meatout.org, click on “Proclamations” and you’ll find the official city of Tacoma seal, not far from the seal of the People’s Republic of Portlandia.
We should’ve known this day would eventually dawn in T-Town. What else would you expect in a city whose minor league baseball mascot is named after a stalky vegetable?
Something to chew on: We’re told local authorities will take no action to enforce the mayor’s meat-free edict. But history has taught us that tyranny tightens its iron grip a little at a time.
Don’t be surprised in a few years if you’re living in a police state where Dave’s Meats is ordered to close – an Orwellian society where animals are allowed to vote and the cops go door to door confiscating drumsticks, animal crackers and Meatloaf record albums.
Soon, all our basic carnivore freedoms will be lost, such as the right to try the 5-pound burger challenge at the Loose Wheel pub. Who in their right mind would want to eat that if the patties are made of tofu?
As for Snores Truly, we will celebrate the “Meatout” by retreating to Mount Rainier, where we will forage for mushrooms and berries and commune with wildlife.
If you can’t eat ’em, join ’em.
Don’t even get us started on hummus: Admittedly, we’re clueless about the vegetarian/vegan scene. What comes to mind when we think of the word “lentil”? Why, a movie starring Barbra Streisand, of course!
And who knew Quickie Too was a Tacoma restaurant? We always assumed it was a ….
Oh, never mind.
Bring out your undead! What a bummer that we missed Zombie Day in Olympia earlier this week. Apparently a herd of insatiable, soulless subhumans was staggering around the state Capitol.
And they weren’t lobbyists for a change.
The organizers of Zombie Day knew better than to bring in a bunch of ravenous flesh-eaters on the same day as the national “Meatout.”
Legislators, meantime, are unlikely to go meatless for the day. They’re constitutionally incapable of swearing off pork.