Who's Gonna Tell

Finally. A vote that matters. It's called a referendum and it is what this city's officials would like to avoid at all costs much preferring well curated "community input." To no one's surprise we're seeing the kind of full court press not seen since the days when Dunwoody Yes! and Citizens for Dunwoody touted a study saying this city could run on $18 million a year. These folks want to go all Wimpy and get their hands on $60 million today for which they will gladly pay $200 million over the next twenty years. Or more precisely, they'd like everyone to pay. 

That's where the vote comes in and with it the lobbying. If you're interested you can find the city's promo here and the other aficionados argument here and those advocating deferred gratification here. We've not had entertainment like this since we had clowns running around saying it isn't another layer of government. Turns out they were right since if you don't enforce laws and ordinances it isn't a real government. 

The Weather Is Here...

Chords that resonate with our never ending CAD-to-CAD dramedy, other serial silliness at City Hall and now all that snow that just ain't blow...

She said I can’t go back to America soon
It’s so goddamn cold it’s gonna snow until June
Yeah, they’re freezin’ in Atlanta stuck in their cars
And I’m lyin’ here ‘neath the sun and the stars
Customs man tell her that she’s gotta leave
She’s got a plan hidden up her shrewd sleeve
Wants to find her a captain, a man of strong mind
And any direction he blows will be fine

Please don’t say Mañana if you don’t mean it
I have heard those words for so very long
Don’t try to describe the ocean if you’ve never seen it
Don’t ever forget that you just may wind up being wrong

Tried and I tried but I don’t understand
Never seems to work out the way I had it planned
Hanging out at a marina when Steve Martin called
Singin’ anybody there really want to get small

But women and water are in short supply
There’s not enough dope for us all to get high
I hear it gets better, that’s what they say
As soon as we sail on to Cane Garden Bay

Please don’t say Mañana if you don’t mean it
I have heard your lines foe so very long
Don’t try to describe the scenery if you’ve never seen it
Don’t ever forget that you just may wind up in my song

Let’s Reggae Reefers!

Called all my friends on those cheap nightly rates
Sure was good to talk to the old United States
While the lights of St. Thomas about twenty miles west
I see General Electric’s still doing their best

I’ve got to head this boat south pretty soon
New album’s old and I’m fresh out of tunes
But I know that I’ll get ‘em, I know that they’ll come
Through the people and places and Caldwoods Rum

So please don’t say Mañana if you don’t mean it
I have done your lines for so very long
Don’t try to drive IT projects if you’ve never done it
Don’t ever forget that you just may wind up being gone
And I hope Warren Hutmacher never writes one of my blogs

Oh, and Billy Clyde really wasn't insane.

Mid-Morning Watch

Now what do they do if I just sailed away
Who the hell really compelled me to leave today
Runnin' low on stories is what made it a ball
What would they do if I made no landfall

I lived half my life in an eight by five room
Just cruisin' to the sound of the big diesel boom
It's not close quarters that would make me snap
It's just dealing with the daily unadulterated crap

Sail away for a month at a time,
Sail away I've got to recharge mind
Then you'll find me back at it again

Oh I love the smell of fresh snapper fried light
What'd you say, Pouilly Fuisse to round out the night
The mid morning watch is the best time to look
Oh what would they do if I wrote the big book

`Cause I've seen incredible things in my years
Some days were laughter, others were tears
If I had it all to do over again
I'd just get myself drunk and I'd jump right back in

Sail away, that's the way I survive
Sail away, that's just no shuck and jive
It just makes my whole life come alive

The wind whistled thru the cool rigging at night
Crazy crowds boogie to the sound and the lights
Bums down in Capo's he's just havin' a ball
What would he do on another landfall
What would they do if I made no landfall
Oh what would they do if I flew to Nepal
What would I do if I met Lucille Ball
Tryin' to make a little sense of it all
Just tryin' to make a little sense of it all

Fight Or Flight

The days drift by
They don't have names
None of the streets here look the same
And there's so many quiet places
Smilin' eyes match the smilin' faces

And I have found me a home
I have found me a home
You can have the rest of everything I own
'Cause I have found me a home

The recent trend in the Blogosphere of the Wold is to assign monikers to teams involved in our little skirmishes, or at least deprecating ones to those holding the opposing position and this seems like fun so for the purpose of this diatribe we shall do the same. In the first corner the formerly retired champion making a comeback is the contingency known as "More Dunwoody Than You" aka "Mo Wood" and in the opposing corner the young upstarts, Dunwoody's collective agents of change, our very own Cheese Hunters extraordinaire, the "Jeezer Cheeser".

What has Mo Wood back in the ring facing Jeezer Cheeser is a skirmish over a skirmish, specifically the "Battle for Dunwoody". Mo viewed the conflict between Dunwoody and Dekalb in simple terms with clearly stated, limited objectives much like Stormin' Norman in the first Gulf "war". Once the City was established and our taxes stayed here payin' for Police, patchin' potholes and pavin' parks they considered the war over. Job well done, but more importantly, job DONE.

Jeezer, young and hotheaded was more like Patton and seems in it to never win it, to never say that the last battle is fought and won, but to slog on in a never ending campaign to battle against what he sees as the forces of evil. By and large this means anyone who wants to keep Dunwoody a sleepy little Bettendorf. Just a bit too quaint for Jeezer. Plus Jeezer is a fighter and is itchin' to take all comers.

Mo's position has the merit of simplicity: Mo "bought into Dunwoody" when it was a sleepy bedroom community and though Jeezer cannot believe and will have none of it, actually LIKED it that way. Mo's complaint with DeKalb was the same as his issue with Jeezer which is that DeKalb and now Jeezer want to take away the life Mo has vested interest and much money in.

Jeezer is the more complex creature even to the point of incredible. It isn't clear how Jeezer got to Dunwoody, given there were no real secrets about the "Dunwoody sense of place" but we'll go out on a limb and suggest that Jeezer has close family members held hostage who will be killed should he leave the Wold. We're romantics like that.

Now Jeezer is promoting himself as the next new thing, heavy emphasis on "new" as Jeezer is an evangelist for the inevitability of change. Jeezer has clearly never been to Darien CT where the good folk living there have kept the clock rolled back to the mid 1950's. That fine existence proof notwithstanding Jeezer is hell bent on change, his change and not just for himself but for Mo and everyone watching from the stands.

But Jeezer is facing Mo's rope-a-dope and wearing himself out. Even in these early rounds many of his formerly ardent supporters are losing hope and more importantly faith in his mission and his tactics. They are asking of themselves the same question others are asking of Jeezer: if the hostage story isn't true, why fight--isn't flight the most efficacious option?

And many are seriously considering that option. Upon finding that Dunwoody isn't their nirvana, not the Hell's Cherubs Home of Cycling, not the tree-hugger's paradise, not the neo-urban funk capital and certainly not a haven for folk-artsy folk who take their Hippocratic Oath of Ecology VERY seriously they are voting with their feet.  And what's to stop them? Dunwoody fared better than most in the recent real estate crunch and as it turns out there are many places nearby in the Metro area that actually ARE what Jeezer wants to force Dunwoody to become. So a brief analysis of "time left on the planet" vs "fight for something I can migrate to" is leading many to the path of migration. Maybe Dunwoody is Smart after all.

Most of the people who retire in Florida
Are wrinkled and they lean on a crutch
And mobile homes are smotherin' my Keys
I hate those bastards so much
I wish a summer squall would blow them all
The way up to fantasy land
Yeah they're ugly and square, they don't belong here
They looked a lot better as beer cans

Yeah, and that's why it's still a mystery to me
Why some people live like they do
So many nice things happening out there
They never even seen the clues
Whoa but we're doin' fine, we can travel and rhyme
I know we been doin' our part
Got a Caribbean soul I can barely control
And some Texas hidden here in my heart