Big vote today on the Dignity Village deal. Jeez, there's a lot of heat on both sides of that thing. People from Transportation want their compost pile back, while Erik and his new best buddy Randy want to leave the homeless right where they are, camped out under the PDX flight paths. Sleep tight, folks.
I've gotta hand it to Erik, he's a creative little bugger. Now we'll call it a "campground," and the shacks can be called "yurts." Yeah, right, it's a frickin' KOA. Half the time I think Erik's pulling my yurt. The other day he even had the Oregonian architecture critic writing about Dignity. What, the clean lines of the saran wrap windows?
The big money downtown is saying leave them there. With all the TV ads I've got to buy pretty soon, I sure don't want to turn the downtown crowd off.
We've been going around on this for years now. I remember the last time the Dignities tried to set up a camp. It was down by RiverPlace. They wanted to pitch their tents about 100 yards from some of Homer Williams's developments. Oh man, did we have a good laugh at that one. We even let them spend a couple of nights there before we chased them off.
Well, I better get dressed and shaved for the meeting. While I'm at it, I probably ought to practice my "hard vote" look in front of the mirror. You know, the one where I squint and scowl and look really pained? It's my DeNiro. Works every time.
We got to take a ride on the new North Portland light rail line the other day. What a success story! Finished ahead of schedule, and under budget. Yes, indeed, the city that works! And at only $327 million, I think everyone will agree it's quite a bargain for the taxpayers.
The car we rode in was so nice. It still had that new-car smell. I saw that there was some space up in the front where Tri-Met might consider putting a plaque naming the car after someone. Oh, I don't know, maybe a public official who's left her mark on the city, and is about to retire, and doesn't know how to drive a car?
The seats were spacious enough. My police chauffeur/bodyguard and I had plenty of elbow room as we looked out at the sights and schmoozed with Ron Wyden. I'm glad the bodyguard was there, because it's kind of dangerous over in that neighborhood. Apparently there are some gangsters who are shooting each other with automatic weapons in broad daylight again. Kind of like "The Sopranos," but nobody's speaking Italian, if you know what I mean.
What is it with these young people in North and Northeast? Oh well, maybe now that they have their own MAX line, they'll all have a chance to ride over to Catlin Gabel and learn a better way of life.
My political buddies tell me that I'm keeping too low a profile. They say nobody knows me. I tell them, "Fellas, you've got it all wrong. I may not be flashy, but I'm still a hit with the ladies, especially the environmentally conscious ones. Because when I have a mind to, I lay down some Big Pipe."
What am I doing staying up so late surfing the internet? I've got to get to bed. I've got a big day ahead of me.
In the morning, I've got to vote on whether to extend the urban renewal zone for downtown. And of course, I've got to vote yes. Thirty years of subsidizing downtown businesses just isn't enough.
We haven't put enough public money into downtown. The other parts of town have been gettting more than their fair share.
Man, I'm bushed. It's been a long week. And I'm still jet-lagged from my sister city trip to Taiwan. I know I said I wasn't interested in taking these junkets, but you know what? Vera was right. Having all those little foreigners making over you like you were one of the "American Idol" finalists is good for the soul.
I learned a lot about China while I was there. It's a lot like City Hall. For instance, giving and receiving gifts is a big deal. But they do have some peculiar customs. When you hand someone a piece of paper, like an approval for a project that's going to blight a neighborhood, you have to do it with both hands.
Also, it's considered impolite to boast in Taiwan. Always make sure to compliment people on anything that is worth noting. For example, you should say, "Although this project is a waste of taxpayers' money, I'm sure it will fill the neighborhood with toney restauarants." On the other hand, when receiving a compliment, you are expected to play down your attributes and prowess. If someone were to say, "You are the true representative of the little people," you should say, "Oh, I don't know, I enjoy a few perks of the job every now and then."
Then, bonehead me! I almost forgot to file my re-election papers! Good thing there are only two people filed against me so far. One's a bit of an eccentric (to put it mildly) and the other's a college kid. I should be o.k.
But right now I need to say, Wan ann.
Things are so hectic around here, I hardly have a chance to blob. The farewell speech is taking a lot of time, and I'm running out of room around the office for all the thoughtful cards and flowers from Homer, Neil, and Joe. Spring is in the air!
Wow, what's all this about the aerial tram being $13 million short? They're not going to give up, are they? I'll have to call that nice Mike Lindberg and give him the old Kitz 'n' Katz pep talk. You can't let a little cash flow problem hold you back when there's something big at stake. I remember the time I was down at Nordstrom during the women's half yearly, and there was this Louis Vuitton Epi Soft Noe bag, to die for, regular $950, marked down to $775. I laid down my Visa card, but it was declined.
Did I give up? Did I sell myself short? No way. I picked up the house phone and got the limit on my Nordie card raised by a thousand bucks, right on the spot.
Where there's a will, there's a way.
I just found one of those neat internet quizzes, this one called "Which Beatle Are You?"
I came out as George, the quiet Beatle.
I'm finally starting to make some headway with my counsellor, Felicia. Today we had a breakthrough. I came to the realization that I've got some split personality issues that I've got to work on.
Most of the time, I'm just the good old Randy that most of the city voted for -- east side guy, plain-spoken, level-headed, looking out for the middle class. I work to shut down the problem bars, get the tow truck dolts to clean up their act, put in a good word for the boys (and girls) in blue, throw a biker party in the Park Blocks once in a while. Crank up the Mellencamp and Seger.
But I don't know, every once in a while these weird feelings start to creep up on me. I can't control them. Neil will start doing his hypno thing, or some developer guy will say something nice about me, and I'll lose it. Next thing you know, I'm going for artsy theaters in the Pearl, more tax breaks for the good old boys, "urban renewal" hanky-panky from here to eternity, wheelbarrows full of money for more hot streetcar action.
The shrink says there's nothing I can do to stop the weird feelings. They're in me and they're going to come on. Especially given the environment I work in, where everyone's controlled by these kinds of thoughts, I can't avoid them. But it's what I do about the feelings that counts.
We're going to try deep breathing for a while, see how that goes.
Boy, Diane sure got herself in trouble with that snow day thing. Poor dear, at the rate she's going, pretty soon she'll be selling shoes at the Rack.
It's a good thing I cracked the whip on our city employees. Just when the place was covered in ice (except for my block -- those Maintenance fellows were so good), I came in to work and told them all to get their sorry butts back in here with me. God help me, was I steamed! After my televised address, I had to head over to Saks for a couple of hours to cool off.
As I told my chauffeur on the way down here that day, there's no reason why people should stay home just because there's six inches of ice on the ground. Especially the people over on the east side. It's very flat over there. Those people should have gotten themselves back on the stick.
Well, they lived and they learned. Like that Trail Blazer player, what's his name, you know, the sleepy one -- Dale Damon -- if they didn't work, they didn't get paid.
I'm glad we have this blog going. I'm a hip, WiFi kind of guy. And it's nice to have a place to blow off a little steam every now and then.
It's especially timely because even with the new family responsibilities and all, I've still got some time on my hands. My plate has gotten a lot cleaner lately. Regionalize Bull Run? Gone. Buy PGE? Over. Local campaign finance reform? History. Buy the Beavers? Heck, we bought them a long time ago. Fight the cable companies? Done.
But I'm not sitting around not thinking. No way, I've still got ideas. Maybe we ought to take another run at toll booths on the Willamette River bridges. Or go back to covering 405 for some more condo towers. Making Burnside a one-way street -- that was one of our better ones. Or here's a new one that came to me the other night down at the Lucky Lab: How about the city takes over the Cafe Azul? It makes good sense. Our future is in food -- you can't live without it. I'm thinking 50 years out -- do we want affordable blue corn tortillas or not? I for one think we ought to have them, and given the economy, only the city can make it happen. You can't trust McDonald's. That Chipotle deal is just a front for corporate greed.
We'd have to hire it out, of course. Note to self: Maybe we could get Neil interested if we give him a lock on the wine concession.
I really thought the running-for-mayor thing was going to be more interesting than this. If I have to drink bad Boyd's at one more Rotary Club with 10 guys in foul cologne, I'm going to scream.
Plus, having to sit up there with Potter while the senior citizens in the audience doze off. Yawn! One guy hit his head on the chair in front of him and they had to take him out on a stretcher. What ever happened to Bud Clark? At least a little whiff of alcohol once in a while livened the debates up.
The damn heckling is making me uncomfortable, too. After I give my stump speech about the need for new leadership, some punk always raises his hand and asks, "But haven't you been part of the leadership around here for, like, 8 or 12 years now?"
Bush the Elder was right, they all want the confounded Vision Thing. They have no idea what it's like in this place.
Oh well, three more months of this and then I'll be where I truly deserve to be.