Disaster Recipes (a true tale of Snoris and "the other white meat")

Just as there are multiple recipes for meatloaf, so are there many recipes for disaster. In meatloaf, the most common ingredients are meat and eggs. Not so in Disaster.

The two most common ingredients in disaster are ambition and stupidity. When you mix those two ingredients when baking a supervisor or councilman candidate, and add a dash of indifference from the public, you have a recipe for the perfect disaster. Oddly enough however, both this recipe and the recipe for meatloaf will serve 8. Only 8.

Can anyone think of one contribution that Snoris Bartlett has offered up during her term as Councilman? Just one. I only asked for one...come on, anything? Oh, yeah, she did something for the dogs, right? Kinda. Yeah, she can count on the dog vote. How about the people? What has she done for you lately?

Has she done anything for your neighbors?

She saunters into every meeting, snug in her rumpled fuzzy sweater, carrying multiple canvas bags filled with God knows what (I imagine it's loose, half filled bags of friskies and parts to old fountain pens), looking like she just arose from an afternoon slumber with her cats and favorite book ('how to win friends and influence people'). Once in a blue moon, you might hear her muddle something like "I wasn't aware of that" or "we should be looking into that", that is when the members of the public remember that she is present at the meeting and actually address her. Otherwise, she is content to spend her time, hiding behind her fuzzy rumpled sweater, her head slunk down into her shoulders as low as human anatomy will allow. When the seldom question that is directed at her does happen, her head slowly rises from the shoulders, like a turtle checking to see if the coast is clear, her eyes widen with the anticipation that she might actually have an answer this time.

Peter D. The other Peter D. As in DiSclafani, not to be confused with PeterDimodica, who is the same person, but through advances in modern science, can be seen in the same room at the same time as the other Peter, much like Michael Jackson and LaToya can be seen at the same time too. For the purposes of this story, we will Call DiSclafani The other white meat, or "towm" as that is easier to type than his last name after multiple shots of Reserva 1800.

"Towm" bounds into the meeting hall each month, flannel shirt tucked tightly into his freshly pressed blue jeans, timberlands (sized men's four I believe) with lifts placed discreetly inside the soles. Sippy cup hidden carefully behind the note pad that doubles as his crayon paper when the coloring books are full. God as my witness, on more than one occasion I've seen a comb sticking out of his back pocket.

As he takes his place at the table, he looks upward, his dull, unimaginative eyes catch the glare of the fluorescent lights above, casting a twinkle that shines through the room like the bat signal calling out to Kathy Nolan to come to his rescue upfront (each meeting must start this way, otherwise Kathy is left sitting atop the tallest structure in Shandaken, which of course is the cell tower, which stands as vacant as Pete's head).

Anymidget, this bitch, I mean "Towm", then sits before all those who gather to watch the train wreck (sorry for the pun, so soon after the DC tragedy) that will be another monthly town board meeting, and smirks his way through a series of controversial subjects like laws regulating farm stands, laws regulating debris, laws regulating women's menstrual cycles...just seeing if your paying attention. Don't think that isn't next, though. Sometimes when he smirks, he slants his mouth up on the right. Sometimes he slants it to the left. Mostly though, he just wiggles his mustache and watches the crumbs from his lunch fall to pad below.

This my friends, is the first two ingredients in "Disaster". Ambition and Stupidity. You figure out which is which. As if it really mattered.

Now for the other important ingredient. The complacent/indifferent public. Add, and mix well.

DISASTER!

Stop worrying about hurting someone's feelings. Expose the lies. Expose the conflicts of interest. Expose the corruption. If you go to one agency and they don't listen, go to the next. And if they don't listen, you continue until SOMEONE DOES. Because eventually, someone WILL. Why? Because it is election time for someone somewhere, most of the time, and if they are ambitious enough, wishing to further their political career, they might just find our cries of corruption worth a look.

Our current regime has a plan for the masses (all 8 of 'em) that wish to stop all progress in the mountains. The cost will be our way of life threatened, our taxes skyrocketing, our questions blocked by politicians who have no answers,with only more laws to offer up and force down our throats. And do you know who is to blame?

We are.

"We" being those of us who sat back and watched the slander take place in the last election, and kept quiet. We didn't want to stoop to their level. We didn't want to harass their candidates, we wanted to appear civil during uncivil times.

What we failed to recognize is that we were at war, of some sorts. A war to protect our way of life. And as we all know, in war there is no civility. There is no room for it. Those that remain civil during war, get to wear the cleanest gloves in their caskets. The gloves must come off, kiddies.