Floyd County Democratic Party breaches paywall, defies pensioners, reprints Nash column in its entirety.

The party's brazen content theft (sans link to source; file under "tsk tsk") leaves Alabama pensioners reeling, and comes on the heels of a dramatic letter to the editor written by the troika of commissioners, at least two of whom are seeking other elected positions (file under "furry critters and ships a-sinkin'), in which there was much sound, fury and vintage Seabrookian phrasing:

As the executive branch of county government, the commissioners are responsible for the development and implementation of public policy for certain county operations. The county council is responsible for the fiscal oversight of those public policies and the fiscal operations of the functions of county government through the various elected offices.

Be still, my thudding heart ... okay, so it isn't exactly Winston Churchill at his most heroic, but it isn't easy for three executive-type guys to share an outdated electric typewriter, especially when two of them are Republican. As for the original editorial prompting Seabrook's stirring call to slumber, it's here, posted from the last time the Democrats tunneled under the paywall.

Officials can only play the dumb card so long before people will assume that they’re just not qualified to lead.

I persist in thinking that Chris Morris did not write these words, but at any rate, the Democratic Party mailing read like this:

Matt Nash: Let's make a better community.

News & Tribune Columnist makes the case for new county leadership.

In case you missed today's News and Tribune, local columnist Matt Nash heads strait to the point on the broken nature of Floyd County government. The piece provides a good outline on recent failings -- everything from the failure of the county to make timely payments for the YMCA and Parks Department to petty squabbles over trick or treat hours. Nash also outlines the many excuses that have come from the Republican leadership on these issues - Republicans control the County Commissioners 2-1 and the County Council 5-2.

Below, please find the full column. His concluding point: Maybe its time to find some new candidates for County office that are willing to work together and try to make a better community.

Following is the text of Matt Nash's column, as reprinted in its entirety in the Democratic Party e-mail, which makes it public domain, right?

Can we all work together?

By Matthew Nash, Local columnist

News & Tribune - 11/8/2013 Edition

One of the first pieces I wrote when I began this column more than four years ago was about building a pool in Floyd County. I lamented that it would probably never happen because it would take the city of New Albany and Floyd County government leaders working together to get something done. I pointed out that “New Albany and Floyd County governments have a very bad track record when it comes to working together on capital projects.”

Several years have passed, some of the principle characters have changed and it looks like we are back where we started. There still seems to be a disconnect with city hall and county government. What is going to take to get the two groups to work together to mutually benefit the taxpayers?

Last year New Albany was forced to sever ties with Floyd County as it pertains to their joint parks agreement. For years the city and the county operated the parks department together but over the last few years city residents ended up paying more and more than what was required because of a lack of funding from the county.

County leaders denied knowing that they were required to pay their portion of the parks deal and said we should just move on. A year later the city has moved on but it seems like county leaders still want to dwell in the past. Just last week they were complaining about a lack of communication coming from the city administration.

It seems that county leaders are unhappy with a plan to build a fire training tower at the Grant Line Road fire house. The property is adjacent to Sam Peden Community Park which is owned by the county. They believe there is a better location for the new tower and think they should be able to tell the city where to put it.

For years there was a tower at the very same location and from what I understand there was never any complaints before. Why is there now an issue when it is time to replace the one that was torn down? The fire station is isolated from the rest of the park and a fair distance from where many of the park goers congregate.

It was also pointed out that a Floyd County commissioner tried to contact New Albany about the plan to change the night for trick-or treat for Halloween. He was upset that New Albany would not change the night so they were on the same page. It seems to me that the city would be the best to decide when they would celebrate Halloween since there are more concentrated neighborhoods with children. If they were so concerned why didn’t they just follow New Albany’s plan? Ultimately the argument is still pretty petty.

A few weeks ago it was pointed out that Floyd County had not made its annual payment toward the commitment that it made for the YMCA. Some officials pointed out that they have always made the payment in the fourth quarter of the year. Other officials announced that they knew nothing about the annual payments. The more things change the more they stay the same.

The bond payment are said to be due in January and August of each year, but Floyd County hasn’t paid its share? Why is New Albany paying twice a year on time while the county is allowed to wait?

Each time that something like this comes up the members of the county council claim ignorance and say they will do what they are required. Why are they continuously allowed to make excuses? At what point will the “leaders” in Floyd County do what is right without being reminded?

One of the big excuses that the members of the Floyd County Council have used for years is the trials of David Camm have put a strain on the county’s budget. As the David Camm murder trial was finally coming to an end members of Floyd County Council decided it was time to start asking questions about some of the expenditures for the final trial. After 12 years of just rubber stamping payments without question why now have they decided to ask questions?

I pointed out last year that if New Albany wanted to get the money back that was never paid for the parks department they should just send the invoice to the Floyd County auditor in an envelope that says “Camm trial” ... then they would get their money, no questions asked.

We are a year away from elections in Floyd County where we have an opportunity elect many new leaders. Instead of returning the same people to their positions year after year maybe we should find some candidates that are willing to work together and try to make a better community for everyone.

— Matthew Nash can be reached at dmatthewnash@gmail.com

Eubie Blake and the sounds of Harlem.

It took me the longest time to locate a version of this song, primarily because it has two titles. I was looking for Sounds of Africa, as the piece is identified on a three-LP compilation called "Jazz Odyssey, Vol. 3: The Sound of Harlem".

Along with companion sets featuring music from Chicago and New Orleans, these Harlem recordings were a staple of my listening at the tender age of roughly twelve, as copied onto cassette after borrowing the album from the library. Repeated listenings those many years ago have left indelible imprints on what remains inside my noggin, and now after hearing Charleston Rag, I'm digging out all the ragtime and stride piano that can be found.

Eubie Blake's very long life was fascinating, and worth a glance. He might well be among the pinnacle of greatest ever Baltimoreans, a list that includes HL Mencken and Art Donovan.

Hugh Bir, Armistice-to-Veterans Day, and forgotten fields in Flanders.

I ran into Hugh Bir yesterday while examining cigars at Kaiser's, and he reminded me that he's playing on Sunday at Bicentennial Park on the occasion of the weekend Veterans Day celebration. He'll be playing in the 2 - 5 p.m. slot. Smoking's allowed over there, right? I'll save a stogie for it.

In turn, the annual renewal of Veterans Day prompts some rewinding.

It's the 95th anniversary of the Great War's end, and next year, the conflict's centenary will be upon us. Why is this important? Among other reasons, Americans remember it each year in the form of a holiday that has come to embrace the service of all veterans, not just the World War I generation.

Veterans Day is an official United States holiday honoring armed service veterans. It is a federal holiday that is observed on November 11th. It coincides with other holidays such as Armistice Day or Remembrance Day, which are celebrated in other parts of the world and also mark the anniversary of the signing of the Armistice that ended World War I. (Major hostilities of World War I were formally ended at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918 with the German signing of the Armistice.)

Saturday, November 9 marks another seminal anniversary: It's the day when the Berlin Wall fell. As I'm fond of pointing out, all things considered, the armistice in 1918 didn't end the war at all. The demise of the Wall did. My guess is that future historians will refer to this period as the 70 Years' War, and be done with it.

Here is a piece originally published in the pretend-local newspaper on November 5, 2009.

---

Forgotten fields in Flanders.

Lately I keep hearing this tune.

Keep the home fires burning,
While your hearts are yearning,
Though your lads are far away
They dream of home.

These dreaming lads were soldiers, in route across the English Channel to fight for the United Kingdom, and several hundred thousand of them failed to return home to nostalgically remember a popular song written to inspire the home front in their absence.

By now it should be clear that war is horrible, and I’m not sure that it serves any purpose to discuss which wars are “just.” Justice in this context inevitably owes to situational morality as the combatants pray to their respective deities and make theological mockery of whatever religious interpretation devolves from these biased, selective judgments.

By all such standards, the Great War was especially horrible. The specific horror of this conflict, which eventually came to be known as World War I out of a contextual necessity to keep our historical accountings of human suffering clearly ordered, surely represents societal innocence shattered on an unfathomably massive scale.

An entire generation that had known no war outside of mock duels and parlor games willingly marched off to slaughter while gaily singing songs about honor and glory, and consequently, it’s a safe bet that World War I was the last disastrous conflict to feature a soundtrack entirely devoid of irony. Western societies would have to wait decades and refine techniques of amplification until the onset of thrash metal’s inherent violence finally provided music capable of approximating the grim reality of institutionalized murder.

Earlier this year, the last British veteran of the war died. Perhaps one American soldier of the era remains alive – and, in the time it has taken for me to write this essay, perhaps he’s gone, too. The war began in 1914, and it has long since faded into the black and white images of crude newsreel footage that only hint at the carnage of trench warfare and the doltish, outmoded “leadership” on the part of uniformed war criminals.

Providentially, my own grandfather was drafted too late for combat duty. He managed the not inconsiderable task of avoiding the flu pandemic that killed more American soldiers than enemy fire. My father then followed suit by serving in the Marines during World War II, which was “his” war, and a subject of fascination for him the remainder of his life.

I, too, went overseas, although not in uniform. In 1987, I found myself in Sopron, Hungary, choosing a beautiful early summer’s day to go for a hike in the hills. I came upon a large, older cemetery, and decided to walk through it, ascending a gentle, wooded slope past contemporary gravestones of the still-extant Communist era.

Like rings on a tree stump, history’s reverse chronology rotated as I continued uphill. Nearing the top, rows of Great War graves finally commenced. These were the soldiers who fought and died for the ruling family of the Austro-Hungarian Empire – the losers, as it were, who died as readily as the “winners” on the other side.

The first death dates were more recent: 1918, and then somewhat more from 1917, and as I scanned their names, the majority Hungarian, but also some Germanic and Slavic owing to the mutli-ethnic, polyglot nature of the Habsburg domain – as I contemplated how ridiculously, stupidly youthful so many of them were – I reached the lip of the hill, rather puzzled that there seemed to be no graves from earlier war years.

The answer to my befuddlement was just on the other side. Dipping into a valley studded with older, larger hardwoods, row after row of markers told the lethal tale: Died in 1916, 1915 and 1914.

I always think about the cemetery in Sopron on Veterans Day, formerly Armistice Day, which originally fell on November 11th because that's when the fighting stopped in 1918, ending the First Great World War and enabling a “peace” conference in Versailles that did so much to ensure a second.

Previous generations knew about the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, but all the other mass bloodlettings since required a consolidation of observance, and a holiday more intrinsically American. So be it, and I’m not here to disagree, even if we forget the first causes that brought it about.

However, we’re left with those many innocent, misplaced songs. Now that living memory has passed, they speak even more eloquently about life, death and our capacity, sometimes successful, and often not, to make sense out of the insensible.

A CBS television documentary, World War One, ran from 1964-65, comprising 26 half-hour episodes, and later airing on cable. My friend Barrie videotaped them. The series is now available on DVD (you can see excerpts on YouTube), and I’m weighing a Christmas purchase, because one of the episodes, “Tipperary and All That Jazz,” has haunted me since the first time he and I watched it around the time of my Sopron sojourn.

Ancient film, much of it depicting camp life behind the lines, forms a backdrop for song snippets. They are melancholy, sentimental and elegiac. It is heartbreaking … and very real.

There's a long, long trail a-winding
Into the land of my dreams,
Where the nightingales are singing,
And a white moon beams.
There's a long, long night of waiting
Until my dreams all come true,
Till the day when I'll be going
Down that long, long trail with you.

Wilcox Block/Bergman Building: On the right side of New Albany street grid history.

Matt and Jessica Bergman's rehabilitation and restoration of the Wilcox Block (133-135 E. Market St.) is the stuff of local legend. Now if the city would just put commensurate time and money into rehabbing Market Street and restoring two way traffic ...

My two-way street project and how you can help.

Are you in a New Albanian State of Mind?

Billy Joel's live version of New York State of Mind is from "America: A Tribute to Heroes", just after September 11, 2001. My amended lyrics are accompanied by profuse apologies to Mr. Joel, whose stellar career recently was summarized at Rolling Stone:

Joel was never a critical favorite during his heyday, and the endless criticism must have played at least a small role in his decision to stop releasing pop songs twenty years ago. But with each passing year, love for the man seems to grow, and it’s becoming harder and harder to remember a time when the tastemakers deemed him uncool. Simply put, he’s outlasted the haters, and (to steal a line from Matt Stone in the Rush documentary Beyond the Lighted Stage) you gotta give it up to him now, or you’re just being a dickhead.

As we've been saying here at NAC since 2004, New Albany is its own state of mind, too.

Some folks like to get away,
Take a holiday from the neighborhood.
Hop a flight to Branson or to Hollywood.
But I'm takin' a Greyhound on the Fall Run line.
I'm in a New Albany state of mind.

I've seen all the oligarchs in their fancy cars and their limousines.
Been high in Birdseye under the evergreens.
I know what I'm needin', and I don't want to waste more time.
I'm in a New Albany state of mind.

It was so easy livin' day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The News and ‘Bune, as in picayune.

It comes down to reality, and it’s fine with me ‘cause I've let it slide.
I don't care if it's Silver Hills or the riverside.
I don't have any reasons.
I left them all behind.
I'm in a New Albany state of mind.

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues
But now I need a little give and take
The News and ‘Bune, as in picayune.

It comes down to reality, and it’s fine with me ‘cause I've let it slide.
I don't care if it's Silver Hills or the riverside.
I don't have any reasons.
I left them all behind.
I'm in a New Albany state of mind.

I'm just taking a Greyhound on the Fall Run line.
Cause I'm in a, I'm in a New Albany state of mind

ON THE AVENUES: Me? I’m just a crackpot.

ON THE AVENUES: Me? I’m just a crackpot.

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

If you're a one-man band and you need to use the bathroom, the music must stop -- for a moment or two.

In the non-working hours I've set aside since Tuesday, October 29, I've squeezed in visits to two Board of Public Works and Safety meetings, one City Council gathering, and Tuesday night's Develop New Albany "1st Tuesday" function.

These activities haven't left me with very much time for two-way proselytizing from door to door, but I've had ample face time with the anointed movers and shakers, of whom the notable urban theorist E. Presley presciently commanded, "A little less conversation, a little more action please."

(Shrugging, sips espresso)

I’m fairly serene. If it's true that we reap what we sow, then I'm doing as much sowing as possible in the hope that the reaping comes along in due time.

All of it seems to be inordinately puzzling to some people. Why? Surely I must be enmeshed in a conspiracy of some sort, except that I'm not.

Nope, it's just a grassroots chatting-up, and nothing more complicated than a sharing of ideas. In advocating for two-way streets, I've been acting alone, for the most part. Obviously, those who've taped the two-way emblem to their windows in solidarity comprise a bloc of the like-minded, and so it's more than just me. But it's been my money, my time and my energy, at least so far, and while I'd rather be a cog in the progressive machinery – assistance would be very much cherished, folks – being a lone wolf never bothered me much.

---

No, it isn't because I'm planning on running for office again.

In fact, I've spent far more on materials for the two-way street project (about $150) than I did when running for city council in 2011 ($0.00). The former has garnered maybe 30 fellow travelers, while the latter earned 1,341 votes. My financial priorities might well be skewed.

Two-way street grid advocacy is what the pretend-local newspaper should be doing regularly, apart from a single isolated editorial -- one that is appreciated, but typically inadequate. At some point, I'll tunnel under the paywall and have a look, although the vista is unlikely to surprise anyone.

Two-way street advocacy is what both Develop New Albany and New Albany First should be doing. It is sequenced as part of DNA's National Main Street program DNA, and it's also in keeping with NA 1st's affiliation with AMIBA. Both organizations have expressed informal, non-binding affinity, and members of both have posted emblems, but these organizations both note that surveys of membership must be conducted before any position can be taken, if any is taken at all. Apparently, heeding one's molecular structure isn't what it used to be.

Still, I believe that they'll board the train soon enough, and so it doesn't really matter when.

---

It's pretty much a one man show, and as such, perhaps I'm playing out an unanticipated (and revealing) culmination of nine years' slogging through the vine-choked tentacles of our battered city's ruinous New Albany Syndrome, wherein whatever notion that generation upon generation of vision-challenged elected officials cannot imagine, cannot possibly be real, and must be dismissed without a second glance.

Pfui. Traffic studies are bullshit -- and so is the New Albany Syndrome. We’re overdue for some wooden stakes and garlic, aren’t we?

I view it as axiomatic that how we get around, and the manner by which our mobility options influence the surroundings, absolutely should not be determined solely by a self-interested engineering caste ... but to so much as consider this bit of evolutionary/revolutionary theory requires our elected and appointed officials to stop squirming like elementary school children, wash the rheumy glaze from their eyes, grow a metaphorical pair, and think a little bit.

After all, unused muscles atrophy. It isn't clear whether the muscles of imagination and abstraction have been exercised in governing circles for generations, extending backwards as far into Bob Caesar's idealized bicentennial glow as we can bear to contemplate.

Well, it's never too late, is it?

And, in fact, it's more than just our governing circles.

It's asking precisely the same of my fellow independent business owners and operators, which explains my choice of an audience. It's the place where I'm on a level playing field with peers, and it's why I'm not making neighborhood concerns the central thrust of the advocacy. I'm asking only that business owners and operators consider exactly what I've considered, to peek over the wall of the generally self-imposed "we've always done it that way" concessions, and ponder the possibilities afforded by change.

We all work hard, but what if the physical infrastructure of the city itself was arranged to help with our workload, and to support what we're doing, rather than impede it owing to clearly outmoded imperatives from a time long since passed?

Independent local businesses -- not big boxes, not chain stores -- have revitalized downtown New Albany all by themselves, with almost no assistance from government, and yet government can still provide assistance by recognizing that shared infrastructure is mutable and capable of adaptation. Eisenhower-era, one-way street grid changes themselves prove the point. They are not carved in stone on an 11th Commandment.

A downtown economic development policy bringing some governmental skin into this game would be nice, too. Why should the industrial park get all the favors?

It comes down to this: If I'm a solo crank and just  crackpot, and no one's really paying attention, then by all means ignore the two-way message. It won't hurt my feelings. At the same time, as what I'm saying gradually filters back through the muck, and it seems as though an ear or three might be bended in this direction ... well, then I have a flier for you to read.

The NewAlbanist: "Excessive Speed: A Quality of Life Issue".

Uptown Art : On the right side of New Albany street grid history.

Uptown Art: New Albany

My two-way street project and how you can help.

Vintage Fire Museum’s Chili Cook-Off is Nov. 14, and city's economic development plan is ... is ...

The Vintage Fire Museum soon will be moving to Jeffersonville, but for now it remains New Albanian. In the photo, Curt Peters previews the Museum's approaching fundraiser for the Board of Works audience earlier this week.

The Vintage Fire Museum’s 5th Annual Chili Cook-Off takes place on Thursday November 14, 2013 from 5:30-8:00 pm. It will be held at the The Grand on 138 E. Market St, New Albany, Indiana.

Following are the Top Three Things we know for sure about the Chili Cookoff.

1. The museum's restored 1937 flood-time floating fire truck (above) will be unveiled.
2. The chili will be good.
3. The Grand won't bother with craft beer at the cash bar for the occasion. Does it ever?

Sighhhh ... it's probably time to send Blake to The Grand and explain localism to them (again), but in the meantime, as we wish the best to the Vintage Fire Museum in transitional days to come, it's worth a reprise of thoughts published here in August.

---

What's the plan, and if there's a plan, how are we to know?

We now know that the Vintage Fire Museum will be moving to Jeffersonville, and that Curt Peters takes the high road (as always) in explaining the museum's ongoing regional basis while barely mentioning the nifty $500 a year lease making such a move inevitable.

Understandably, museum backers are disappointed. But we also know there are two sides to every story, and we've discussed the concept and implications of the fire museum in the past. It was never a panacea for New Albany, to be sure, but could have been a nice addition under favorable circumstances. You know ... as part of an overall plan.

Just let me try to explain, very briefly, what strikes me in all of this. It's not about the fire museum, itself. Primarily, it's that as various issues like this one come and go, and decisions are made (or not made), it is maddeningly difficult to see any pattern, and if there is one, it is a plan largely undertaken without substantive public input.

Consider the following, listed randomly.

• The UEA shifts part of its bounty to Quills, but Lancaster's moves to Clarksville.
• Taming the Main Street corridor is absolutely vital, but other looming grid necessities downtown (one-way streets impeding revitalization) are placed on the seemingly permanent back burner.
• Projects already in an advanced state of planning (Slate Run) suddenly look shaky, and for financial reasons.
• Millions of dollars for two new showpiece parks are declared a priority, but neighborhood pocket parks are not, and there is no consideration as to access for these new parks apart from autos.
• The riverfront amphitheater remains mostly unused, with all attention on Bicentennial Park.
• Another Harvest Homecoming almost is here, with no action or discussion with respect to its disruption of downtown revitalization. Why?
• Nearing the halfway point of the current administration, are there any ideas for downtown housing, parking, pedestrians and bicycles? If so, they've not been revealed.
• There is no currently strategy for coping with the dislocations of the bridges project.
  

My point is simple: What's the plan, and if there's a plan, how are we to know?

In the absence of substantive and sustained transparency, how can any of this be viewed other than as piecemeal and reactive?

Say what you like about Jeffersonville, but at least there seems to be something unified about its current planning direction, something that suggests awareness of challenges and complexities ahead.

Yes, New Albany's had a nice, non-threatening, Chautauqua-style Bicentennial celebration. Unfortunately, it looks increasingly like a wasted year, one during which too much money is being thrown at too few goals, none of which has yet to involve the public.

Is it too much to ask to have a plan, and for the plan to be shared?

This Midtown home: On the right side of New Albany street grid history.

For quite some time, members of the East Spring Street Neighborhood Association have advocated for two-way streets, reminding us that in most significant ways, one-way arterials produce conditions decidedly non-conducive to neighborhoods.

Take it to the bank(er): Quality of life considerations are not defined solely by residents of newer areas outside the historic core. They apply to everyone ... but they cannot be equally distributed until we have a discussion about what the term means, and the discussion includes the street grid and related infrastructure.

My two-way street project and how you can help.

Russell Brand: "I felt how plausible and beautiful The Revolution could be".

The video (above) and a follow-up in The Guardian, below.

Russell Brand: we deserve more from our democratic system

Following his appearance on Newsnight, the comedian explains why he believes there are alternatives to our current regime

... It's easy to attack me, I'm a right twerp, I'm a junkie and a cheeky monkey, I accept it, but that doesn't detract from the incontrovertible fact that we are living in a time of huge economic disparity and confronting ecological disaster. This disparity has always been, in cultures since expired, a warning sign of end of days. In Rome, Egypt and Easter Island the incubated ruling elites, who had forgotten that we are one interconnected people, destroyed their societies by not sharing. That is what's happening now, regardless of what you think of my hair or me using long words, the facts are the facts and the problem is the problem. Don't be distracted. I think these columnist fellas who give me aggro for not devising a solution or for using long words are just being territorial. When they say "long words" they mean "their words" like I'm a monkey who got in their Mum's dressing up box or a hooligan in policeman's helmet.

Johnny Cash: The Man in Black.

I owned the cassette of this album around the period of its release in 1971, and listened to it quite often. My elementary school classmates were appropriately befuddled.

Hearing the title song just now, I'm surprised at having retained almost all the lyrics. It's too bad I didn't learn Spanish or German around the same time. A language might have stuck.

Johnny Cash's life was a work in progress, and filled with contradictions. One anecdote holds that at least in the beginning, his choice of black clothing was merely expedient; they were easier to keep clean on the road.

Later, black was a persona, although Cash does a fine job here in attaching principle to appearance.

Council meeting: Mt. Tabor residents advocate for two-way streets ... sort of.

There was a slim agenda at last evening's city council meeting, and so it lasted twice as long as it should have. This is not unusual; rather, this is New Albany, where we're all here because we're not all there -- and city government is the ironclad rule that proves the steadfast rule.

My pal Mark and me -- well, you know, we wuz miffed.

As council regulars, we're quite accustomed to waiting until the end of the session for the opportunity to speak our minds, or at any rate, what's left of them. But on Monday night, unbeknownst to us, a special treat was in store, as my (Grant Line Road work neighborhood) 6th district council person Scott Blair had artfully stage-managed an appearance by Mt. Tabor Road residents, better to flood the meeting and protest proposed road improvements to their vicinity.

Of course to Blair, it isn't only the group's cherished status as constituents which compels skullduggery with the agenda, by moving their presentation forward. It's also an issue of specific shared preconceptions, which actually are more generalized than Blair currently is able to grasp.

Hence, my existence s gadfly, and my mandate to remind him at every opportunity of certain repetitive lapses in his random application of principle. It's a dirty job, but someone must do it, and two martinis provide exquisite encouragement.

Granted, it's easy for a conceptual European like me to laugh derisively at the native New Albanian aversion to roundabouts (and in this instance, sidewalks), but of course, these Mt. Tabor Road residents have a very good point overall.

The city's proposed changes would make the road in front of them more likely to be driven by a greater number of cars, and at a rate faster than before, a situation of induced demand likely to be taken advantage of by outsiders with no better reason than passing through because they can, thus rendering the corridor less safe for neighborhood residents ... and yes, that's right, creating a scene designed to negatively impact their quality of life.

Thus, CM Blair's desired choreography achieved two unexpected, salutary results: It meant I was able to speak nearer the beginning, and the Mt. Tabor Road group succeeded in forcefully making my point for me, in the sense that their argument precisely mirrors the contemporary plea by inner city residents to convert one-way arterials to two-way neighborhood-friendly streets.

The primary differences are two in number: Downtowners have been afflicted by the mayhem for close to half a century, and CM Blair doesn't understand this affliction because he does not understand what downtown urban living means.

I persist in thinking that's he's capable of learning. I'll continue to earnestly, humbly and yet determinedly assist him in this quest.

Unfortunately, council veteran Kevin Zurschmiede chose last night's meeting to reveal his own difficulties in learning, declaring "I'm not educated enough," and furthermore, insisting that his ignorance of current events absolves him from attempting to fathom them. But was it really KZ, or was Mark Seabrook still wearing his mildewed KZ costume from Halloween?

Either way, I shall refrain from criticizing the councilman's incisive self-knowledge. All of us know ourselves best, each and every one.

Zurschmiede's revelation happened as the council discussed CM John Gonder's R-13-15, a "resolution in support of efforts to increase participation in the new health care law," known colloquially as "the governor's ball is a son of a bitch" resolution ... wait, make it "governor's," not "governor's ball," seeing as the former is a gubernatorial inadequacy and the latter merely a bicentennial atrocity.

One of CM Blair's favorite approval stamps is "no brainer," and Gonder's resolution proved just such a "no brainer" phenomenon, one so incredibly obvious that even Bob Caesar favored it with his once-per-year nod at vaguely resembling a Democrat; the final vote was 7 in favor and 2 opposed. Oopsing the resolution was Zurschmiede, who admitted he couldn't comprehend it and thought others should follow his lead, and ... (sighhhh) ... Blair, who yet again reprised his periodic selective principle wherein what isn't the council's business should be avoided unless Blair ratifies an item as council business.

I'd link to the newspaper's coverage, but the Pensioners' Paywall precludes me from doing so. It's there, at the website, if readers have not exceeded their limit.

The NewAlbanist: "Excessive Speed: A Quality of Life Issue".

The bookseller has released the results of his speeding citation study.

Excessive Speed: A Quality of Life Issue

... One council member told a constituent that we don’t want a situation where our reputation is “Welcome to New Albany. Now here’s a ticket.” But based on the report we’re sharing tonight, one could say our reputation is more in line with “Welcome to New Albany. Don’t worry about getting caught breaking the law.”

Here's your takeaway: "NAPD issued only 1 speeding ticket for every 155 patrol hours."

Following is a collection of links to the NewAlbanist's recent essays on the topic.

Pulse-quickening council preview as we await the NewAlbanist's speeding citation report.

The NewAlbanist: The dialectic, the shibboleths, their quality of life and our conundrum.

The NewAlbanist is jacked up on speed.

Essay: "Two-Way Streets: Best Practices" at The NewAlbanist.

Damaged by wind, or destroyed by Vectren?

Pulse-quickening council preview as we await the NewAlbanist's speeding citation report.

Tonight there'll be a renewal of New Albany's twice monthly futility rite, otherwise known as a city council meeting, and against my better judgment, I'll be in attendance.

Live tweeting will begin as soon as Bob Caesar utters something incomprehensible, self-serving or utterly foolish, which is to say whenever he enters the room, right before the meeting begins.

The council agenda tonight is as barren as Bud Light's olfactory allure, except for a symbolic resolution from John Gonder scolding the governor of Indiana for being a reactionary swine (my words, not Gonder's) with respect to Affordable Health (Obama)Care.

R-13-15 Resolution in Support of Efforts to Increase Participation in the New Healthcare Law

Meanwhile, most of the rest of us look forward to the release of the bookseller's speeding analysis, which is due to hit the mean streets around 8:00 p.m.

Coming Tonight: Report on Speeding in New Albany

I expect to complete my last round of edits on my analysis of New Albany’s speeding citations. As you’ll recall, NAPD Chief Sherry Knight provided me with a list of all citations for excessive speed during a 12-month period ending September 30, 2013. I’d like to thank the chief for her prompt response to my request.

And wordsmiths appreciate Randy's other post at his NewAlbanist blog today.

The Rot That Corrupts New Albany

Corruption, classically, refers to impurity or deviation from the ideal ...

... Corruption has another sense that can be applied to New Albany without resorting to accusations of criminality. Negligence, incompetence, and apathy can corrupt the workings of government just as effectively as brazen self-dealing.

Budgetary back alley to the Farmers Market? Let's face the music and dance.

In 2011, with the third Doug England term lurching toward an unceremonious and largely moribund conclusion, it became imperative to expand the Farmers Market on the corner of Bank and Market. Amid discussion of "tiffing" the Farmers Market buildout to the tune of $400,000 (not a misprint), city council eventually uncoupled the Farmers Market proposal from the emerging Bicentennial Park boondoggle, and there it seemed to rest.

In May, 2011, Bluegill nailed it.

Despite being subjected to the usual "slap our name on it" fight for credit, the Farmers' Market has indeed been successful and does serve important economic and social functions in the community. The importance of those functions, however, is precisely the reason the market should not be used as the centerpiece of some politicized, unexplained financial scheme.

Now it's 2013. Last week, while at the Board of Public Works meeting, it was revealed that $275,000 toward the Farmers Market work now appears in the 2014 council budget. At-large council member Shirley Baird and city suburban economic development director David Duggins delightfully reprised Astaire and Rogers as Public Works was informed that the usual architectural design suspects would resume work, and the expansion would be finished in time for the market's 2014 opening.

As for how the unmarked bills were earmarked for expenditure, the Green Mouse recently overheard CM Baird commenting that she'd at long last devised a way to evade scrutiny from the council upon which she serves. She may have been joking ... or we may now see why she says hardly anything during the public portion of her job.

Among the questions that might be asked had this process occurred in light of day are many we've asked previously, about this and other projects.

• Really? As much as $400K? (See postscript below for a useful analogy)
• Is a city-owned corner lot in the revitalizing downtown the best place for the Farmers Market, when the space potentially might be of higher value for infill?
• Might the Farmers Market, itself as infill, be more appropriate to other plots nearby, ones in need of a purpose, and as part of a comprehensive economic development plan for downtown -- you know, the one that doesn't exist?
• Why must the usual architectural and construction suspects always be used for such matters, seemingly every single time?
• Why must backroom negotiations result in a backdoor fait accompli -- seemingly every single time?

Viewed as a payback to those who've worked to improve the Farmers Market, and to Develop New Albany to claim institutional credit, perhaps all of this makes political sense. And yet, local independent businesses await their payback for millions invested in downtown ... and $400K represents the city's tithe against federal funds to achieve (another lamentably over-priced) project: Two-way street conversions and accompanying street grid reforms.

Quality of life? Does anyone really know what time it is, or what QOL really means?

Mrs. Baird?

---

Postscript: From a frequent reader.

What's the cost of the proposed farmer's market addition per square foot?

It is sobering to realize the recent complete renovation of Kensington Palace for Prince William and Kate was accomplished for £1,000,000.

That total includes £600,000 spent on internal works including complete replacement of plumbing and boilers, re-wiring and removal of asbestos. A further £400,000 was spent on replacing much of the badly-damaged slate, tiles and lead roof over the four-story apartment.

Meanwhile, exactly 1/4 of that amount is required to pop up a few poles, a roof and a brick veneered bathroom on land the City already owns?

Based on today's conversion rate, the £1,000,000 spent on Kensington Palace equals US $ 1,605,399.28.

The $400,000 sought to enlarge the Farmer's Market is 24.9% of the equivalent value of the one million pounds British citizens spent to fully renovate the infrastructure of 21 rooms on four floors in a manner literally fit for a (future) king.

The handbill is ready: 21st CENTURY CITIES SUPPORT TWO-WAY STREETS.

On the reverse side is a passage from "The Return of the Two-Way Street; Why the double-yellow stripe is making a comeback in downtowns", by Alan Ehrenhalt (Governing), in addition to mention of Jeff Speck's book WALKABLE CITY: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time.

I'll have these printed and ready to hand out this week, both during the course of my indie business wanderings, and at the 1st Tuesday networking function.

Trench warfare -- the regional "Good Beer Front" edition.

(Muttering) Ah, the humanity ... this bottle of low-cal, mass-market lager is attached to the hand of a sitting New Albanian council person. Do you know who?

At Facebook, the first comment appended to the photo was this: Sorry, but cannot hit 'like' for 'lite.'

Clever, Sam! At NABC, we work tirelessly to makes scenes like this part of our discredited collective memories, and not a daily matter for perusal. It keeps a boy quite busy, although these days, we have another helper. I'll allow the Scrum Coordinator to introduce himself, if he wishes.

Here is a rundown of coming NABC events, appearances and grenade launchings.

Last Friday, NABC said goodbye, farewell, amen ... free at last, free at last ... I will forget you, some day. No longer are we bound to Heidelberg Distributing, our Greater Kentucky area wholesaler. We are free agents, and this time, it is hoped we'll find a partner willing to work with us.

On Tuesday, November 5, we celebrate Elector's birthday. At 11, Elector's about ready for middle school. See how Elector's appearance has changed over the years from 2002 to 2013, and get the details of the Elector Story, and $2 pints (and $6.66 growler refills) at both NABC locations on the 5th.

Also on the 5th, I'll be pouring samples and providing soapbox oration at DNA's 1st Tuesday networking gig at Uptown Art (5 -7:30 p.m.), located just cross Bank Street from Bank Street Brewhouse.

On Thursday, November 7, we'll be at 99 Hops House, Hollywood Casino in Lawrenceburg. The casino is visibly supporting Indiana craft beer, and as a director seated on the board of the Brewers of Indiana Guild, I'm delighted to drive up and chat about our steady progress toward being a great brewing state ... and in case it wasn't reported behind the local paywall (hint: it wasn't), there are now 74 breweries operating in Hoosierland. There's also one fewer prohibitionist in the Indiana House, so join me in saying "amen" at the long overdue termination of legislative malpractice.

And then there's Houndmouth, the band and the ale, all around throughout November. The second night of Houndmouth's Thanksgiving weekend show has already sold out, but tickets are available for Friday.

You say you want a panic attack? Try agreeing to speak at what appears to be a modest craft writing symposium at the University of Kentucky (my mom's alma mater) next February, and then realize that it is to be populated by true heavyweights of my industry. Well, if you can't dazzle 'em with brilliance, then baffle 'em with bullshit ... hmm, wonder if Houndmouth's free to accompany me? As the band captivates the crowd, I'll make for the unguarded cash bar.

There's a bar, right?

Updating the two-way street discussion in South Bend: Conversions coming soon.

Back in September, we noted that South Bend is rocking the two-way street discussion.

And what do we get in New Albany? Caesarism, a reactive, exhausted and outmoded doctrine if ever there was one. And from a MERCHANT, no less ... If South Bend can be having this discussion, why not New Albany?

Last week, I received a follow-up e-mail from South Bend's city planner -- and that's wonderful, because I didn't even ask for it. Rather, he found us. Here it is, complete with links.

While doing some online research for the City of South Bend’s efforts to convert downtown streets from one way to two way, I came across your NA Confidential blog, which includes your advocacy of two way streets for New Albany and its citation of South Bend as a good example of a city that is having a discussion on that matter. I can provide an update: on Wednesday, the City Council approved the 2014 budget, which includes funding to convert two of downtown’s four one-way streets to two way next year and to continue design to convert the other two streets, currently under the jurisdiction of INDOT.

A sampling of the news coverage: Here and Here

I hope this example will inspire your efforts -- good luck!

Michael Divita
Planner
Department of Community Investment
City of South Bend
227 W. Jefferson Blvd., Suite 1400S
South Bend, IN 46601

Courtney Paris Photography: On the right side of New Albany street grid history.

Note that the emblem's not on the door; that because the building owner does not allow Courtney to put things in the window. She'll be getting an emblem and will display it inside when shooting.

Courtney Paris Photography

My two-way street project and how you can help.

The NewAlbanist: The dialectic, the shibboleths, their quality of life and our conundrum.

Below are two more must-reads from the bookseller, as released at his NewAlbanist blog.

On Monday evening, the NewAlbanist will publish a report on New Albany’s speeding scandal, as gleaned from a full list of speeding tickets written by the New Albany Police Department between October 1, 2012 and September 30, 2013, as requested of and promptly provided by (are you reading, Tom Harris?) Chief Knight.

Trust me: You are going to be amazed by the numbers. Investigative journalism surely does exist in this town. You merely must know where to look for it.

On the Dialectic and our Conundrum: Speeding in New Albany: A Marxist Conundrum

We must assume, by default, that the NAPD (or its masters) cannot discern any need to enforce the ordinances promulgated to regulate motor vehicle speeds on New Albany’s streets.

How else can we reconcile what our (lying) eyes tell us each day.

And ...

On the Shibbeloths and their Quality of Life: Pay No Attention To That Man Behind the Curtain

What is New Albany’s shibboleth?

Say it with me: QUALITY OF LIFE.

My two-way dream: Not AgitProp, but PrestonProp.

It's the perfect place to educate, seeing as ...

... those in most desperate need of learning are so very close.

Here's the one v. two way comparison chart again.

Nine years of sublimation at NAC, and the beatings go on.

The ninth anniversary of NA Confidential passed unnoticed on October 22, primarily because I was too busy with other components of my merry fractured world to pay close enough attention.

Happy belated birthday to us.

I like to say that this blog began as a direct result of massive personal depression in the wake of W's re-election, except you'll notice a birth date preceding Elector Day in 2004. In fact, the epiphany didn't strike overnight. It probably began in earnest a year earlier, when we closed the deal on the purchase of our house at 1117 East Spring Street on Halloween, 2003.

Talk about foreshadowing.

Several previously disparate threads began to come together in 2003 and 2004. In retrospect, a significant factor was my new life. A marriage had ended, and a new relationship started. Because of that, we bought a home located in Midtown. Before and after the move, all those walks and bike rides through the deserted wastes of a criminally neglected downtown raised dozens of questions leading to lines of inquiry veering somewhat from my previous obsessions, most of which were variants of beer and travel. I began to see that NABC's business was transitioning toward a fuller embrace of brewing, which began to make sense as the ultimate, local, creative act.

As the presidential election year of 2004 advanced toward its likely conclusion -- the re-enthronement of arguably the worst American chief executive ever -- an absurdity began dawning on me. We live our lives in a specific place, but spend so much of our time debating issues far beyond it. In 2004, at 44, there was next to no chance of my influencing the disastrous Bush reign, and to even devote psychic energy to such issues merely left none to apply to matters nearest to me, when these were the sort of local conditions best addressed through direct action, and capable of being influenced. The odds were 1 in 300 million, or 1 in 37,000. Which would you choose?

Therefore, why not write about it these convergences? After all, everyone's entitled to my opinion, and naturally this is the precise juncture that a deeply personal proclivity came into play.

Quite early in my life, it was obvious that being able to arrange words on a page was essential to my being. I don't know why. It just is. Through most of my adult life, I have awakened to a jumble of thoughts centering on today's topics, thoughts on how this jumble is to be untangled and organized, and what must be written, as soon as possible, in order to expel the current crop of thoughts and make room for others. I suppose it is a compulsion of sorts. Music always plays in my head, and sentences always are forming there. I'm convinced that when these idiosyncracies cease to occur, or when math and numbers finally start to make sense to me, death will be imminent.

What better way to facilitate these needs than electronic media? It requires no start-up money. It's possible to write locally, and disseminate globally. It builds character, and makes me a better gadfly.

And so it went, from then until now. Coincidentally, this will be the 7,000th post at NAC, including unpublished drafts. We'll hit 7,000 actual published posts in early December. Thanks to Jeff, Randy and Lloyd for contributing over the past nine years, and to all the moles and agitators and malcontents who help our ideas to gestate. Thanks to my wife for tolerating my writing and cage-rattling compulsions. Thanks to you for reading.

Lastly, thanks to the late, great Howard Zinn for demonstrating to me the fundamental veracity of a people's history, nd the critical need for it, because while this blog is imperfect, the intent all along has been to provide New Albany's flip side. It required a learning curve, but I'm damned proud of the results, and I think we've helped provide a record while offering more ideas per square pixel than local political power structures and non-local media combined.

I think NAC is ridiculously under-rated, but it doesn't matter all that much. It's their loss. That's life.

Somewhere, it's beer-thirty.

Now, consider this: "The Trick to Escape a Straitjacket."

The world premiere of The Trick to Escape a Straitjacket was Wednesday evening at the Carnegie Center, and it was well attended, with perhaps 70 people filling all the folding metal chairs and requiring staff to bring more. The documentary profiles lifelong New Albanian resident Kenny Stewart, whose eclectic worldview defies description.

The Trick to Escape a Straitjacket - Official Trailer

An eccentric old man from a small town in Indiana recounts his passion for show business and the enchantingly bizarre stories of his life as he attempts to perform the one secret trick he’s always wanted to pull off: escaping from a straitjacket.

A feature length documentary film by Rosie Nakamura.

Note that if you watch the film, be aware that it took eight years to make, causing some references to dates and events to seem skewed. They're not. In fact, Kenny Stewart is alive and well and pushing 87 years of age.

Official web site

NABC Pizzeria & Public House: On the right side of New Albany street grid history.

NABC Pizzeria & Public House

My two-way street project and how you can help.

The NewAlbanist is jacked up on speed.

And appropriately so.

In the ongoing design vs. enforcement scrum, I've always assumed that someone in the city's upper administrative echelons is able to formulate the arguments in the design vs. enforcement scrum. If the best possible world would be street design serving as an impediment to speeding and recklessness (and making enforcement less of an issue), the worst outcome would be a street designed to encourage speeding and recklessness -- and no enforcement at all.

Admittedly, it might get even worse than the latter, as in Ypsilanti, Michigan, where state highway officials not only did nothing about one-way streets, but actually proposed raising the speed limit.

Seems to me that better design leads to better ways for the police to use their time.

Don't forget the $60,000 hike, coming November 10 to a dangerous arterial near you.

Here are two recent NewAlbanist posts, with survey results soon.

Casablanca on the Ohio

 ... In an earlier post I asked you to guess “How Many Speeding Tickets Were Written by the NAPD Between 10/1/2012 and 9/30/2013.” Before seeing this report, my over/under would have been 100, a number that would have been truly a scandal if it had been accurate. Little did I know that I have been an eyewitness to almost one-third of all tickets written in New Albany. But more on that later.

And:

Do You Feel the Need for Speed?

If the number of speeding citations issued by the New Albany Police Department is any measure, we have some of the safest streets in the world.

Last week I told you about a meeting of New Albany’s Board of Public Works and Safety at which Maj. Keith Whitlow said, in essence, that there is no speeding problem on Elm Street. In “response” to a request by Grace Transue, a resident on that street, the Major ordered one of his officers to conduct a (very) brief survey of traffic speeds on Elm.

Petery-Hedden Company: On the right side of New Albany street grid history.

Petery-Hedden Company

My two-way street project and how you can help.

Yogi Berra to Kerry Stemler on tolling boondoggles: "It's deja vu all over again."

For New Albanian readers, consider what Daniel Borsch asks at Say NO to Bridge Tolls:

"If a wealthy area outside Washington, DC won't pay to use a toll road, what do you think is going to happen in Louisville?"

While reading Renn's article, pay special attention to the skewed traffic projections and non-transponder pay rates. It merely confirms that Kerry Stemler and his ilk have become human trick-or-treat costumes. Unfortunately, the penalty they'll be exacting from the metro area goes just a bit further than toilet-papering one's house.

This Is What a Boondoggle Looks Like, by Aaron M. Renn (Urbanophile)

I’ve recently reported on a couple of mega-bridge mega-boondoggles in progress in Louisville and Portland. But if you want to see a preview of how this might play out in real life when and if they are built, an example of this is in progress in the Maryland suburbs of Washington, DC with the Intercounty Connector.

And then the punch line, with audio clips of Stemler giggling:

So head’s up to local leaders everywhere. If the DOT and its allies cram a mega-boondoggle road or bridge down your throats, it’s your fault if it doesn’t produce the economic benefits they projected. Better buckle up. Because apparently being a boondoggler means you never have to say you’re sorry.

ON THE AVENUES: Where future is a dirty word.

ON THE AVENUES: Where future is a dirty word.

A weekly web column by Roger A. Baylor.

I’ve been a Civil War buff since childhood, but even so, the genre of battlefield reenactments always has puzzled me.

In his entertaining book, Confederates in the Attic: Dispatches from the Unfinished Civil War, the author Tony Horwitz considers the Civil War’s numerous legacies, including the meticulous and obsessional efforts at authenticity on the part of those engaged in bringing 19th-century military campaigns back to life.

Horwitz describes one of the participants:

"One hardcore took this method acting to a bizarre extreme. His name was Robert Lee Hodge and the soldiers pointed him out as he ambled toward us. Hodge looked as though he'd stepped from a Civil War tintype: tall, rail thin, with a long pointed beard and a butternut uniform so frayed and filthy that it clung to his lank frame like rages to a scarecrow."

When I was much younger, I had the good fortune to visit more than a few of the Civil War battlefields – Shiloh, Chickamauga, Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, among others – and these occasions always seemed appropriate for reflection as to the violent events of times long since passed. You’d think that the vivid color of a battlefield reenactment would complete the scene, except that it never scratched the itch with me.

The very thought of reenactments staged to observe every detail of conflict sans the indescribable pain and death borne of extreme human violence seems a sophomoric intrusion of sorts, something conflicting quite jarringly with any notions of sacrificial hallowed ground – assuming even these thoughts have any genuine merit.

Men and their machines come and go, but ideas live on, and perhaps it is because this fundamental point about the power of ideas is being missed that I fail to grasp the reenactment genre. It’s the future that matters, as approached with accumulated experience gleaned from the past’s examples. The future is why any of us bother getting out of bed in the morning. The past is gone, and the present is a figment of conceptual imagination, one entirely ephemeral.

Currently, the precise details of how a 150-year-old cotton tunic was sewed together have their place, as do pageantry and spectacle, but re-animated hardtack and nighttime spooning (look it up) pale in comparison to the sad fact that in the year 2013, roughly half the American populace, generally the paler-hued ones, seems to have forgotten what the Civil War was all about – hence the word “unfinished” in the title of Horwitz’s book.

Convincing these people that certain foundational issues were resolved long before the advent of the internal combustion engine probably ranks as more important for the sake of our future as a nation, assuming there is a future immune to secession, than reenacting battles.

Acting out uniformed history?

Fine.

Knowing what history is trying to tell us?

Priceless.

---

Such is the critical error committed repeatedly during the past year by the cadre of well-intentioned, history-loving New Albanians who were brought together to contribute planning for this year’s Bicentennial celebration – an event that shouldn’t be occurring until 2017, anyway, since that’s when the city was incorporated … sorry, I digress.

The customary guiding lights have hoarded the process and tried to imbue the celebration with symbolism of their choosing, and yet the enduring difficulty with symbolism is the variability of the symbols themselves. They mutate incessantly, depending on one’s perspective and general vantage point.

Do you remember the centerpiece of the grand American bicentennial in 1976, when the old, tall, “masts from the past” sailing ships came into the harbor at New York?

It was a wonderful and epochal party, redolent with symbolism – flags, patriotism and Americana. The newspaper accounts agreed, but the late Randy Shilts, author of And the Band Played On, saw something else. The occasion of July 4, 1976, may well have been the point when Patient Zero kicked off the worldwide AIDS epidemic.

Wooden ships were on the water, and the future was pounding on the door. It is quite possible that owing to Ronald Reagan’s backward-looking obsession, we took far too long reacting to the scary reaper out on the stoop.

And so it is that from the very start, New Albany’s bicentennial program template was locked into a pattern so utterly predictable that Year Zero itself has been a massive yawner of an anti-climax.

Opposing ideas have not only been dismissed; they’ve been actively resisted, and it’s both sad and infuriating to contemplate the extent of an opportunity wasted. Apart from the solitary tangible gain of an over-priced, generically designed public area, variously known as Somnolent Estates, Rent Boy Park and Caesar’s Folly (the “official” designation is Bicentennial Park), we’ve been given a carpetbagger writer’s coffee table book to remember our rare old times and what seems like 4,762 occasions to watch as the selected don period costumes, dance the minuet, and recite the enumerated hagiography of the historic preservation code -- cookie-cutter events priced primarily to recoup the book’s lamentable costs.

It’s all safe, white-bread and oh-so-conservative, and fully appropriate for the buck-a-day extras at yet another Lewis & Clark expedition commemorative film, but it remains that the problem with making our bicentennial entirely about the city’s past, and not in any discernible way at all about our future, is that the situation begs a rather embarrassing question.

Why were our urban forefathers adept at city building for the times to come, but their modern-day ancestors are able to muster little more in terms of achievement than decay management?

You're thinking: Haven’t we come a long way during the past few years?

(We have. But what about the three decades before that?)

Downtown is revitalizing, isn’t it?

(If eating and drinking’s your thing, yes it is. If retail gains, residential enhancement, community engagement and two-way, calmed and completed streets interest you, then welcome to our default condition of perpetually self-flagellating stasis)

But Roger, don’t I look marvy dressed up as a Scribner?

(You needn’t ask me. I’ll be sober in the morning, but we’ll collectively experience this bicentennial hangover for the rest of our lives. You might direct your inquiry to that child slouching over there, assuming he’ll relinquish his iPhone)

And so, the safe and genteel rewriting wrought by the Coup d’Geriatrique winds its way toward the inevitable reenactment of New Year’s Eve, 1893, when a slew of white folks gathered somewhere amid Benedictine sandwiches and non-alcoholic cider, and chatted amiably about keeping the lower classes firmly in their place.

In the vacant lot where daughters once were paired and insider trading schemes consummated, the future is now. An empty liquor bottle meets pavement, drivers ignore pedestrians, and Farmers Market expansion plans are recycled by the same-way-every-single-time design suspects as Big Gulp cups flutter to the pavement.

Somewhere in the city, a dog barks.