It’s the Sniff’s favorite holiday! Almost as if an occult hand guides the news cycle, foolery is in full bloom.
State lawmakers settled their differences and passed a budget, cheerfully overriding 27 of Gov. Big Jay Inslee’s vetoes (conveniently filed away for summer campaigns — mailers full of vetoes, anyone?) Lawmakers donned silly outfits and shot Nerf guns. Meanwhile, the state’s legal pot sales are wafting through the roof, which can’t have any possible relevance to the outbreak of Olympia harmony.
Surely you noticed the weekend caucus smackdown between the Berniebros and the Hillarybots — the yelling over Democratic presidential candidate faves was loud enough to annoy the state superdelegates hunkered down in their Fortress of Smugitude.
The Berniebros (followers of Bernie Sanders, as if you didn’t know) carried a whopping 72 percent of Washington voters — oops, we meant 72 percent of the state’s delegates, chosen by a whopping 4 percent of Washington voters, because the caucus system is very democratic, inclusive, convenient and the math works like this ... zzz …
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The Berniebros (followers of Bernie Sanders, as if you didn’t know) carried a whopping 72 percent of Washington voters -- oops, we meant 72 percent of the state’s delegates, chosen by a whopping 4 percent of Washington voters, because the caucus system is very democratic, inclusive, convenient, and the math works like this ...zzz …
(Fast-forward, fast-forward, skip commercial, press play) … but the superdelegates — big elected officials like Inslee, U.S. Sen. Maria Cantwell and U.S. Rep. Derek Kilmer — don’t have to go with the choice of lower-ranking un-super-delegates, so they’re siding with Hillary Clinton.
Needless to say, this development annoys the Berniebros, who shout in all-caps tones, like their candidate, about THE ESTABLISHMENT and THE RIGGED ECONOMY and REVOLUTION, which is why they’re pestering the superdelegates, who hate everyone who speaks in all-caps, which is why they’re sticking with Hillary. Got all that?
It’s enough to inspire a local smackdown bracket. We’d pay to see Our Prosecutor, Zen Master Mark Lindquist, pitted against Samurai Sheriff Paul Pastor. ZM could lead with memorized R.E.M. lyrics, and the Sheriff could counter with blizzards of semiotic Umberto Eco quotes — more than enough to offset ZM’s height advantage.
Not good enough? How about a three-way cage match for Pierce County executive, between Battling Bruce Dammeier, Dangerous Dan Roach and Ravishing Rick Talbert? Oh wait — that one’s really happening.
Methanol in the bag? You’d think the Tacoma City Council would be tired of getting yelled at, and embark on some soporific project that would lull the public to sleep, like appointing a blue-ribbon panel to assess advisory commissions, but no.
Instead, Your Council is floating a proposal to ban plastic shopping bags, which turned into a torqued-off public forum this week. On one side, greeners voiced support. On the other, leave-me-alone types grumbled about a hidden agenda.
The debate features a pleasant side effect. How many bag-ban opponents are dead-set against the proposed Methanol Refinery That Ate Tacoma?
The refinery would turn natural gas into methanol, which would then be used to make olefins, a kind of plastic that doesn’t sound like plastic. And who could hate an olefin factory? It sounds like a Swedish fish factory, and everybody loves Swedish fish.
The logic seems simple enough: If you’re anti-methanol, you’ve gotta be anti-bag, right? The refinery would turn natural gas into methanol, which would then be used to make olefins, a kind of plastic that doesn’t sound like plastic. And who could hate an olefin factory? It sounds like a Swedish fish factory, and everybody loves Swedish fish.
Of course, the debate is no picnic for council members, either — if they’re anti-bag, you’d think they might have to be anti-olefin, too. Political math — not so easy now, is it?
A new pothole plan: This tip comes from the Fishwrap’s own traffic reporter, Angry Adam Lynn (stock quote: “I’m reporting from the middle of the freeway, Jim — not much movement here.”)
According to the Manchester Evening News (that’s across the Pond, if you’re wondering), a guerrilla street artist weary of pavement chuckholes in the lovely hamlet of Ramsbottom (etymology unclear) devised an aggressive tagging campaign that got results and gobs of tut-tutting from Important Persons.
The scheme: see a pothole, tag a pothole with a spray-painted, anatomically specific doodle. No descriptions here, but if you’ve got one of those hand-held thingys with a screen that occasionally rings like a phone, you can click for yourself.
The scheme: see a pothole, tag a pothole with a spray-painted, anatomically specific doodle. No descriptions here, but if you’ve got one of those handheld thingys with a screen that occasionally rings like a phone, you can click for yourself.
What happens? Offended street stewards remove the nonpermanent graffiti immediately and fill the pothole in the process, sometimes within 48 hours. Talk about service!
“I want my work to be destroyed,” the artist told the local rag. “I like it when it gets dug up and replaced with fresh tarmac.”
Suffice it to say local officials are not amused.
“Painting obscenities around potholes will not get them repaired any quicker, but simply waste valuable time and resources,” huffed an unidentified spokespersonage from the town council. “We urge the perpetrator to stop defacing the roads immediately, and ask anyone who sees this sort of criminal damage being carried out to report it to the police and the council.”
Angry Adam’s take was shorter and hotter: “Wonder if this would work in Tacoma?” he asked, via the Twitter machine. Hey, this calls for a pointless study!