Well, dadgum, it’s me…still alive and kicking. I haven’t been going to City Hall meetings since this past October. It had become abundantly clear that the Devil was going to get his due and there was nothing to be gained by firsthand contact with his Unholy Minions.
I always sat near the back door so I could make a hasty retreat in case the floor in front of our elected officials suddenly and violently collapsed into a twelve-by-twelve sinkhole…bubbling over with lava and a dozen or so very long fiery arms flailing about…trying to get a solid grip on my pants leg so as to drag me to the 10th Circle of Hell (see The Onion). Before they threw me in, of course, they would fling me around council chambers like an organic yo-yo while viciously beating me about the buttocks with white-hot pieces of barbed wire.
Maybe they would let me off with a warning. I kind of doubt it.
There was also the outside chance that some hyperactive numb nuts was going to fall to the floor and start squawking in tongues during the Pledge of Allegiance. Bad timing. Do that during the Lord’s Prayer.
I wish they would start videotaping council meetings so I could view them on my computer in the comfort of my living room. Before viewing, however, I would float helium balloons with little garlic packets all around my home while wearing a Giant Flashing Cross (D-Cell batteries for mobility) around my neck in case some howling, bald-headed ghoul tries to reach through the screen and throttle me for defiling the images and ridiculing the names of the ones especially chosen by the Great Horned Inquisitor to be the guardians of the tiny sliver of his earthly domain known as Hanahan.
An explanation is in order. Normally I would do this via footnote. Anyway, the introduction above was influenced more by H.P Lovecraft than George Orwell (as in previous posts). To quote Winston Churchill’s younger brother, Leroy, H.P. Lovecraft was “a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, surrounded by an enigma, and crammed into a sausage casing!”
I have not been paying close attention to the continuing school saga. Instead, this old coot has been staying very busy at home taking care of my little two-year-old buddy Aiden. I babysit four days one week, five days the next while his single mother (an old family friend) struggles to survive on just above minimum wage. The reason that I keep him is because part-time day care was a disaster. Poor little Aiden was constantly struggling with colds and fevers and, on the two days a week when I had him, I wound up catching all of his bugs and was sick from November of 2013 straight through to mid-February of 2014. After a personal visit to the MUSC emergency room we decided that Aiden would come to my place and stay while his mom worked. It has worked out really well. I haven’t had a cold in a year and he’s a lot healthier as well.
Although I am not his real grandpa, I am ready to play that role…with gusto and delight. I also view this as an opportunity to make amends for my mediocre performance as a parent to my two grown up daughters…a side effect of alcoholism. Sober for right at eight years now…vowing to do a better job this time around.
I note the Feb. 11 Hanahan school article by Brenda Rindge in the Post & Courier:
Seems like DOT decided that they would not allow Williams Lane dead end to be bulldozed to connect with North Rhett. That’s a good thing…for now. I imagine that, when home construction starts in this area and traffic becomes unbearable, the decision makers will bow to public pressure and open Williams Lane in order to channel even more traffic into the gridlock that is North Rhett at rush hour.
During the managed “debate” regarding the school site selection process, we heard about the unconfirmed eagle nest sighting on the property owned by the Charleston Water Dept. We were also regaled with tales about jets flying over properties on city council’s school site shit list. I have lived in the Tanner area for 13 years and I see big jets flying in every which direction including over the chosen school site. As far as I know, no one ever contacted the SC Wildlife Dept. to search out that illusive eagle’s nest.
There is one issue that no one has addressed which is far more consequential than jets and eagles. After the school is built and gridlock becomes the norm in the Williams Lane vicinity, the new fire station will be hemmed in by a wall of vehicles going in both directions. Other stations will have to answer any and all fire alarms. Keep in mind that, according to Underwriters Laboratories, new homes burn eight time faster than better constructed older homes:
Any solution that they come up with will wind up being a disaster for the residents of Tanner. If they eventually open Williams Lane to accommodate school traffic, residents of Goose Creek living in subdivisions along Foster Creek Road will be using this as a shortcut to North Rhett (rather than going another half mile down the road to Tanner Ford Road). Opening up the dead end on Williams Lane will only add to the confusion and create more problems than it attempts to solve.
There is a similar situation going on in Lexington County right now. Residents are fuming at the inexcusably poor planning surrounding the construction of River Bluff High School. Traffic is a nightmare and government officials have essentially said to residents that there is nothing they can do to fix the problem so just learn to live with it:
For over two years prior to this fiasco, residents of the doomed area voiced prophetic concerns. They were, of course, ignored. Bucket loads of money was handed out to various contractors and…VOILA…they left a gigantic, out of place, pile of crap in a once peaceful neighborhood.
When this Giant Fluster Cuck unfolds in its final form and chaos ensues, I predict that not one of our elected officials will step forward to accept any degree of responsibility for their part in this fiasco. Instead, there will be a great shaking of heads and pointing of fingers.
More to come, including a convoluted explanation as to why Kevin Cox should figure so prominently in the title and pictures only to be absent from the narrative.