Will it be the same ole thing, or The West Wing?
"Yes We Can"... do what?

Image of the cast, via West Wing, summary of "Shibboleth" episode here.

"Senators Barack Obama and Joseph R. Biden Jr. in Springfield, Ill., Saturday." via The Caucus, New York Times political blog, here.

Billion-eyed audience, I realize that The West Wing was just a television show, and political porn for us trapped in the reign of George II, but I was addicted and loved it for most of the run--at least long as Aaron Sorkin was writing until his own deviltries and frailities unseated him. And it was OK after that, with some major gaffes (that whole thing with Leo in Cuba and the spy mission --echhh) and the series ending with a Hispanic elected as President. H'mmm. How unlikely did that seem?

I got hooked on the series during reruns on Bravo and brought up to speed. I even liked the West Wing ads...you see an empty office until Donna jumps up, "A-hah!" Or the announcer, underscoring the multiple times the show ran, repeating. "The West Wing...The West Wing...The West Wing," with some kind of funny tag line, I think about a copy machine, delivered by Josh.

So forgive me if, when watching some of these scenes of BHL and JRB and the attendant families and dignatorial functionaries in flag-draped scenes among clamoring crowds, that I get an attenuated form of cultural vertigo--that feeling you may know from when the elevator tops but you feel as though it is still moving. This is not just a campaign. This the Best West Wing Episode Ever.

I thought it interesting how in a slip of the tongue, Obama almost introduced Biden as the next President of the United States, and Biden referred to his running mate as "Barack America," like a spoken word poet, or, a superhero. Or perhaps both. And that Biden came out of the gate "literally" (as he so often said yesterday) running was fun to see. (I had a PBR to drink from each time he said "folks" and my guess is one of his media people told him to lay off the phrase--so I had just two sips by that word).

"Damn It Jim, I'm A Politician, Not An Actor."

You can tell Obama is tired. He didn't sell his lines quite right. His statement, "Joe Biden will give some real straight talk to America" was kind of a throwaway when the emphasis should've been on "some real straight talk" and that would've been a more direct jab at McCain. But, having made a few score curtain speeches, I know how difficult remembering all your notes can be, especially if you don't want some bright piece of paper distracting the audience's attention. Then again, he's a politician, not an actor.

I recall how years ago--when Tim Kaine was a Richmond City Councilman, and not even mayor, the Firehouse invited him to participate in a fund raiser and he accepted. Tim is one of the primary reasons there is a Firehouse today. Anyway, I wrote the show that had this Laugh-In style Advent Calendar-esque door opening-and-closing-quip-tossing scene. At the time, radio personality Jim Jacobs was broadcasting on WRVA here, and rather popular.

As written, Jacobs popped his head out and set up a joke, to which Tim replied, "Damn it Jim, I'm a lawyer, not an actor!" My little nod to Star Trek. OK. So Tim comes to me and asks if he can change the line to "politician" not an actor. Not only was this line alteration funnier, as it proved, but accurate. Tim then had his sights on the next thing, and as so happened he's gone a considerable distance.

The Climax of Climaxes So Far

The climax of climaxes of the Obama Experience thus far will be the stadium-sized acceptance speech. Seems to me this is an idea Sorkin might've had in some West Wing variant, and rejected due to the implausibility. When BHC came down here last year and his nervy staff had to hide art work at Plant Zero for fear of sending the wrong message (another West Wing-esque moment), I couldn't have anticipated where his candidacy would go.

I will say this: all politicians fail to live up to expectations. The younger, first-time voters may learn this the hard way. Also, placing too much faith in anybody running for office is a one-way ticket to Disappointment Junction. Even if the wellspring of a candidate's motivation is of the most pure and idealistic, the way to the highest level of governance is a chutes and ladders game of moral and ethical deviations and compromise. Also, there is something fundamentally wrong with anybody who wants the job of President of the United States. The massive ego and a certain level of arrogance required to endure an inhumane and over-long campaign and a constant assault on one's character and personal history means the possession of almost superhuman levels of confidence.

An Ambivalent Cynic

And, further, to place one's full faith in any leader--temporal or spiritual-- is dangerous. To think that any one person can undertake an overhaul of such a vast maelstrom of corruption as the government at Washington and do so without, to borrow a phrase, massive resistance, is foolish. To paraphrase Twain, our world is either governed by well-intentioned mediocrities or malicious idiots. I tend to think there is a bountiful combination of the two.

And that we have all these sitting senators running--does this not indicate some kind of rift in the Millionaire's Club that is the Senate? This reflects, too, the split in the country. And if we had a functioning non-money-special-interest polluted political system, a parliamentary style--not this show biz thing we have now--there'd be more voices and greater choices. And I'm not going to get started about the electoral college and manipulated voting and how we are today a corporatist nation. That elections today are about as profound as an "American Idol" and with fewer voters. Call me and ambivalent cynic. Hell, I voted for John Anderson in my first time out, and once even for Ross Perot.

In conversation this weekend with a neighbor, he told of how a friend who was accused of being a "liberal" once too often finally snapped, "I'm not a liberal, I'm a radical. I don't think any of it works." Or, as acquaintance of mine from years ago remarked, shrugging, "Why vote? It just encourages them."

"What Do We Do Now?"

Well, I don't think any of it works. I mean, not really. So much of what passes for action is just momentum. And voting encourages a misplaced hopefulness -- yet I vote whenever I get the chance. The real politics happens in your civic associations, community gardens, your theaters, and neighborhoods, on your front stoop. When the power goes out and the InterTubes crash, you're left with the people living to around you. That's where the solutions get worked out, and what has the most affect on you.

Some in the billion-eyed audience may be familiar with the 1972 film The Candidate, featuring Robert Redford, as a young vital politician who goes through a rigorous campaign that at times barely acknowledges his existence, and in the end, victorious and arms raised, he says through his smile, "What do we do now?" Read more here.

And here is just one reason why I liked that show so much; the crackling dialogue, the tangled situations--Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme-- the cinematic lighting and camera, and the great doors. West Wing had awesome doors.

"Well, Here I Am, Anyway."

Notes on the News
Hello, is anybody out there?


Scarlett Johansson shows her support for the O-Man. I don't know where I got this, otherwise I'd give credit.

If any member of the billion-eyed audience thought there'd be a Part II for my previous Springsteen entry, I thought, naahhh. I'll just add to the one that's there, which I've done somewhat, and I may put more in, for what it's worth.

But I know why you come here is my trenchant political commentary, because, well, there is so little of the species anywhere else on the InterTubes.

• This Georgia thing and Russia, with the stupid missile defense thing thrown in:

The U.S. didn't intervene when the Soviets rolled over Hungary or Czechoslovakia (back when there was a Czechoslovakia). And for more recent history, after encouraging the Kurds of Iraq to rise up, we left them hanging in the breeze. Lebanon and Somalia both turned out so well. And then there was Nicaragua.

Why would the Georgians think we'd come galloping to their rescue? And now Putin, wanting to stand up to the hyperpower, is playing into Bush's Gog-Magog Manichean view of the world -- because he can get away with the maneuver since he runs the media there. Here, we suffer from a corporatized media that feeds into the worst and baser aspects of human voyeurism and cheap grasping. The public by and large prefers not to be bothered with much that is significant. Sartre's elitist dismissal was: all they care about is fornication and the newspapers. Just change that to "the Internet" and I think the statement still holds. 

My view: I think that the citizenry are in some ways smarter, yet in other ways dumber, than most professional observers understand. People are more concerned and sometimes less able to articulate their worries (you ride public transit as I do, and you get an earful if you but listen) but don't know what exactly to do. We already had a revolution here. George Washington won it all by himself. 

But, about current events. 

The missile defense shield is a chimera and a pretext to rattle sabers. Georgia is getting bullied by Russia because of historic differences and can't stand yet another independent nation could spring up at its border. And there's that gas pipeline, too. Russia understands that with dwindling oil resources, whoever controls a sizable slice of the pie, gets power.

What is the U.S. going to do? Bomb Smolensk? NATO is literally over the barrel because they need Gazprom's oil. Don't listen to me, read Anne Applebaum, who knows this stuff. 

• Obama's vice presidential pick.

My fantasy of Vice President Wesley Clark dwindles, unless this has been a huge effort of misdirection. Maybe Obama is taking his present tour of possible VPs to tell them: I'm not choosing you, but I want to know if you'd accept x or y position should I be elected. 

Clark is (supposedly) not even attending the convention, and after the manufactured kerfluffle in which Clark was made to look like he was impugning McCain's several-decades old war record, Obama for some strange damn reason had to distance himself. This is a  full general who once ran NATO. Seems like Obama could use this expertise right about now. Further, as I've stated elsewhere, he's from Clinton country without the baggage of being a Clinton, looks and sounds good on teevee, and would up the guy factor, seeming a bit more experienced in the world than Hopey. 

I like Tim Kaine, personally--he was even at the Springsteen concert the other night--but for Virginia's sake and our future, I want to keep him down in the Alexander Parris-designed Executive Mansion until his term expires. Then, because our idiotic state constitution forbids governors succeeding themselves, he can become president of Virginia Commonwealth University. There. Done.

Evan Bayh may get the text or cell phone call that he's the one, but I think it's a lame choice; a conservative Democrat is going to appease who? Carry what state?

 Joe Biden-- Mr. "He's clean and neat" himself--is my pick among those being bruited. I prefer the Democratic white-haired loose cannon to the other white-haired loose cannon currently seeking the highest office. He's got foreign policy bona fides, he's smart, and he and Obama look good together.

• By the way, I don't know what politics matters anymore. This Broken Saddleback Whatever Non-Debate that McCain cheated on.

Why have this at all? Screw it, have Dr. Phil interview the candidates. Would make as much damn sense and be even more entertaining. This genuflecting before the evangelical right is just downright annoying and if you feed the beast, you but make it stronger.

Like Dr. Lindsey my college philosophy professor would say--and he, also an ordained minister--soon as you drag God kicking and screaming into an argument, you've proven the weakness of your argument.

Ipso facto, politics, as it is practiced here, is fallacious.

• August in Virginia--eerily balmy.

Temperatures in the 80s with pleasant breezes for a couple of weeks in what should be the most torrid days of summer. I'm not complaining except that we've not had any significant rainfall in--what?--two months? What's up with that?

We now return you to your regular web surfing for shoes and/or porn.

John Adams At The Byrd:
Tom Hanks asks us all to be convivial in the dark


Well, watch the trailer here.

Billion-eyed audience I can't tarry here long though I wanted to say that we were able to attend the preview of the HBO John Adams miniseries at the Byrd Theatre and Richmond got to see Tom Hanks hijinks. When the Byrd Theatre lost power-- for quite a brief period--Hanks seized the flashlight from Governor Kaine's security detail and illuminating himself went up to the podium and said, "Virginia has survived 300 years. You can take a power outage. Please, do not just remain calm, but convivial." For the record, Hanks is not shorter in person and can command a room like a stage actor, and he shaved a century off Virginia's founding date. Oh, well. It was Tom Hanks! In the house!

An HBO executive made reference to miniseries shot here--from Finnegan Begin Again to the Lackawanna Blues but it was Hanks who played to the assembly with Governor Kaine and legislators among those in the Byrd. He mentioned that the John Adams set near Mechanicsville was already getting used for another shoot, and that this activity should continue, adding with a wry smile, "Not that Virginia should become known as the Hollywood of the South or anything..." causing a roar from the crowd. Virginia has lost film shoots because the General Assembly stopped using incentives to tax breaks to production companies to lure them here. Hell, back in the late 1990s even I got some film work. Governor Kaine and Hanks acknowledged the effort of Virginia Film Commission director Rita McClenny, through whose good offices I was there.

Speaking of good offices, in the 1,500 or so people who filled the Byrd, I found myself one empty seat away from Joe Walton, a board member and IT guru at the Firehouse Theatre, and also an actual elected representative to the governing body of Powhatan County. We both thought that the fortuity of us ending up next to each other was quite interesting. He also urged me to shout out "Wilson!" at some point, a clever Hanks reference that I didn't get until long afterward. This is why I don't play Movie Trivia on Facebook.

Following remarks by a procession of various dignitaries and executives and a presentation by the Colonial Williamsburg Fife & Drum Corps, there was a brief hesitation about starting the film. Hanks declared, "You need to move the podium or the people up front can't see." Somebody went up and leaned the podium on its side, as Hanks yanked off the HBO decoration and handed it to an audience member in the front row.

Paul Giamatti was there, too, and he didn't say much but waved and looked quite cool with his characteristic dark rimmed glasses. He received compliments from Hanks how with in a script of 50,000 words, and Giamatti says many of them, that he never forgot a line.

We watched Episode Two, which covered a great deal of ground, involving the siege of Boston, the Battle of Concord, and drafting and proclaiming the Declaration of Independence. David Morse is a convincing Washington--stiff, well, unemotional and he seems older than Washington's then-43 years (!) -- which is maybe how we see him in this episode, and Stephen Dillane plays the somewhat dreamy/odd duck Jefferson well, too, except, by no fault of his own, he didn't seem to me as tall as Jefferson was; perhaps this was done with deliberation, so that G.W. looms over everything.

Thing is, I can't see George Washington without seeing Kevin Grantz. Kevin always played the Indispensable Man when I portrayed Jefferson at St. John's Church. That's him, on the right, in this image, from here.

Speaking of actors out of the Richmond region, the one who is most visible in this episode is Ford Flannagan, known from his stage work at TheatreIV/Barksdale here. He portrays a physician inoculating Abigail (Laura Linney) and her kids against smallpox. The long, white
curling white wig Ford wears makes him almost recognizable. Still, it's an important role in a crucial scene that shows how Mrs. Adams had to make decisions for the benefit of her family's safey when Mr. Adams was away--another scene prior to his departure when she's on her knees scrubbing the floor is every effective.

By the way, the use of wigs in this show is more realistic in terms of how people dealt with them--at one point it's so hot in Philadelphia that Adams removes his, then he forgets himself when he chooses to speak without wearing the thing. Though any comments about the Founding Fathers all resembling Vin Diesel should be kept at a minimum.

I got to shake David McCullough's hand and he provided his autograph. He was radiant in his Pultizer-prize winning historian-with-a-mniseries and old school manners. Having experienced in quite a minor way the exhiliration of exaustion of book signings, I appreciated his taking time out, standing there under the Byrd's marquee, poised to enter his limousine, to put his signature on the title page.

He also spoke this evening, in that rich Wurlitzer of a voice, and made the point that Adams advanced Washington to Congress as commander of the Continental Army, put Jefferson in charge of writing the Declaration, and appointed John Marshall Chief Justice of the Supreme Court -- all Virginians. "Adams knew a good thing when he saw it," McCullough quipped.

Much resonance in those formative debates as there are now in the current political season, and we on occasion should be reminded of whence we came. Also, if you've ever sat on a committee for any kind of administrative body, you can understand the frustration of trying to accomplish something like writing a document with the input from a group of very strong personalities.

This isn't the contrivances of The Patriot (in which Tom Wilkinson played Cornwallis, and here is a fine Franklin) or Revolution (Al Pacino! Nastassia Kinski! The white cliffs of Yorktown!--Wha?). Nay, 'tis closest you'll get this generation to an epic pertaining to the War for Independence.

And I just love me some Laura Linney (who wasn't in attendance). In the episode we viewed, she gets to heft a rifle, chop wood, raise the question about slavery and she received rousing applause when suggesting that maybe she should go down to Congress and box some ears, lay upon a bench and weep at John's writing, and play Mother Courage with her smallpox afflicted children.

Maybe the sense is imprinted upon me from my early days at Colonial Williamsburg, but I dunno, those 18th century dresses that give glimpses of women's elbows, and emphasizes their necks and clavicles...something to be said for showing little. The restrictive undergarments were for those who were required to wear them, less than desirable, though I recall one female interpreter who worked at CW when I was there, describing how stays worked something like a sports bra. Though I doubt Abigail Adams would've wanted to run a marathon while trussed up in one.

Those 18th century walk-around woman's fashions weren't as confining as, say, mid-19th century clothes would get, though the Empire period in the early 19th were quite beautiful for the women and men.

News and Notes: The Plots Thicken

"Five Girls Reading Newspapers In The Library At The
Emily McPherson College," Museum Victoria Collections.

The Richmond VA blogosphere is clogged with metropolitan current events musings, mullings and mischievousness, thus, the Blue Raccoon has for the most part let others, who are often much more qualified, do the squawking. But one egregious event caused me, and others, to raise our virtual voices united by disbelief and disappointment.

My posts were made in an emotional flurry between September 22-25, 2007 and concerned the attempted forced removal the Richmond School Board from City Hall, the prevention of entry by the public and press by police. The nocturnal eviction was stayed by a judge and legal wrangling and political posturing occurred.

Given my excitation at the time, I thought that recent reports in Style Weekly and the Richmond Times-Dispatch that I should make at least reference to what is still not quite clear about what the School Board knew and when.

The January 2, 2008 issue of Style carries the article headlined, "Did schools help plan attempted move?"

Chris Dovi writes, "Schools administration officials, who have maintained their ignorance about why the move was carried out so suddenly — under the cover of night and with the aid of Richmond Police — were far more involved in the planning of that move than previously disclosed, according to internal documents obtained by Style Weekly.

City documents and interoffice communications obtained through multiple Freedom of Information Act requests indicate that schools officials not only knew about the planned move, but also were initially involved in negotiating the lease for the 3600 W. Broad St. building where Wilder tried to move them. They also helped develop the timeline to move schools offices out of City Hall by Sept. 30."

I refer you to the article linked above; suffice to say, the school administration doesn't come across as more sinned against than sinning but more confused and willful than smart. And the Governor-Mayor is, well, his intransigent self. The immovable object and the irresistible force paradox comes to mind...

By Saturday, January 5, matters had proceeded further, as described by the Times-Dispatch's Michael Martz, as "members of a special committee of Richmond City Council are demanding a full accounting of a botched attempt to evict the school administration from City Hall."

The day before, the committee issued a subpoena "to Chief Administrative Officer Sheila Hill-Christian, who didn't work for the city when Mayor L. Douglas Wilder ordered the school offices moved.

The decision to issue the subpoena for documents related to the eviction was made without fanfare or speeches, even a formal vote."

The Governor-Mayor blustered and basically called the committee silly geese.

The meat of the matter is thus, as Martz described:

"Yesterday's meeting was the committee's third since its inception in the fall. The committee has received a substantial volume of documents and information from the administration -- the stack is about 5 inches thick -- but City Council Chief of Staff Daisy Weaver reported yesterday that some information requested hasn't been delivered, including:

Forms showing signed authorization for 35 procurement orders made by the administration to carry out the attempted eviction;

E-mails, correspondence, instruction sheets, schedules and the written minutes of meetings related to the move; and

Documentation of who authorized the transfer of up to $500,000 used for the move from a budget fund for repaying a loan that was used to buy properties damaged by flooding around Battery Park during Tropical Storm Ernesto in 2006."

While this is transpiring, effusive and celebratory headlines proclaim Richmond's plummeting murder rate and general increase of safety. Articles credit the leadership of Chief Rodney D. Monroe, who was also featured in the recent Style as Richmonder of the Year.

The story by Scott Bass didn't shy away from Monroe's role in the September fracas at City Hall.

"... There was also Monroe’s role in ensuring that City Hall, a public building, remained closed to public officials, journalists and other citizens the night of Sept. 21, turning City Hall into a mini police state during Wilder’s attempted eviction of the School Board and Richmond Public Schools.

Monroe doesn’t view either decision as a mistake, or the potentially damaging perception that his police department has become the strong-arm of Mayor Wilder. As for the City Hall fiasco, he says he strongly believes his department had a duty to man the doors to prevent a potentially “volatile situation” from getting ugly."

And:

"For all his strengths and leadership skills, Monroe can come off as painfully simplistic. He equates the City Hall closing, for example, as no different than police helping a landlord evict a tenant, a common practice. He’s seemingly oblivious to the analogy’s main weakness: Closing City Hall to the public more closely resembles evicting the landlord at the request of the tenant."

Monroe is capable and committed administrator and law officer, though there is criticism about some of his management decisions. Further, attorney Stephen Bemjamin muses in the Bass feature about whether the murder rate's wonderful decline is due togood policing, or a stabilization of Richmond's unfortunate drug market. There haven't been any huge busts of rings or gangs of late, and hence no murderous jostling for control in trafficking.

But for me, as a citizen, the saddest part of this is that Monroe permitted his officers seal off City Hall as though his force was the Governor-Mayor's gendarmarie. The excuse that the Chief was just.... following orders shouldn't wash with anybody and should raise concern.

In the meantime, RVA's to-ing and fro-ing diminish before the life and death issues of politics in Kenya, and the Russian states of Georgia and Ukraine.

All that considerable business aside, I am a Richmonder, who lives, works and wanders in its sacred precincts.

Still, when contemplating the whys and hows of Richmond's municipal vagaries, I am reminded of Dan Aykroyd' s Saturday Night Live character Leonard Pinth-Garnell. A tuxedoed spoof of Masterpiece Theatre's refined yet avuncular Alistair Cooke, Garnell hosted a show that celebrated lousy performances. He'd introduce the bits as "Bad Red Chinese Ballet" and "Bad Playhouse" and "Bad Conceptual Theatre." The skit always concluded with Pinth-Garnell giving some enthusiastic embracing of the sheer awfulness of the presentation, capping it with glee in proportion to the poor quality of the presentation, like "Stunningly bad!" and "Astonishingly ill-chosen!" and "Unrelentingly bad!"

I echo Pinth-Garnell when considering the late matters involving City Hall. "Monumentally ill-advised!"

Where the Pinth-Garnell's appearances were restricted to short, funny three-minute skits, Richmond's City Hall history is a long and unrelieved history of the botched and bungled. One may point out this credible official, or that admirable public servant, but the exasperating aspect of studying the city's governance reveals a quality, as a whole, to quote Ross Perot, "that is just sad."

Perhaps light may break through the clouds of Richmond's City Hall history. After all, during most of its urban political life, neither women nor minorities could vote. For the latter half of the 20th century, Richmond's mayors were appointed from City Council, and the the city was run like a quarrelsome quilting bee, except with money, an often pliant city manager, a drug problem and a tragic murder rate. A needed charter change bequeathed to Richmond the Governor-Mayor. Somebody had to go first.

It's been making the rounds that perhaps Governor Tim Kaine, a former mayor, could step into the presidency of Virginia Commonwealth University after the institution's current executive 2010 retirement. Kaine, as I've noted in this space earlier, isn't too hep anymore on the rigors of elected office. His leadership would be a boon for VCU, my alma mater, but I have a suggestion. We've had one Governor-Mayor, bring Tim back but armed with the tools of a strong mayor-at-large that he suggested years go. But, Richmonders may well be done with a past Governor as Mayor.

I'd just like to see someone with a depth of experience at the state level to work toward a greater regional vision. It ain't gonna happen with the present city administration which despite high flown rhetoric is mired in the petty and picayune. I wanted The West Wing and got Spin City.

Finally, the Governor-Mayor, City Council and the School Board are all elected. They weren't transported into office on a beam of gold light while thrones of angels sang their praises. The city's population offer up a representative few who for varied reasons, enlightened and opportunistic, seek office. The rest of us who bother to vote install them, and, for some reason, even if they are proved of mediocre ability, we keep voting them in. This is endemic throughout the nation, not just here in the Holy City.

And that perhaps is the nubbin of the problem. This is democracy; and Richmond's civil government hasn't really practiced the form until lately, and it's a messy business.

On a consistent basis, somewhere, something almost always goes wrong with Richmond's government. There must be a formula for making it operate for the greater public's benefit. If I had a clue as to this peculiar unified field theory, the Nobel Committee would be paying for my first class trip to Stockholm.

.....About Last Night



Tragic-Comic Opera, the Seafarer by Paul Klee (1934) via humboldt.edu

I doubt that when Paul Klee created this work that he could've imagined the metaphorical qualities fitting the political situation in Ruch'mun' Vee-ay. Here, the exquisite early autumn days have lapsed into late August soggy humidity and heat and I think the change of temperature--besides giving people sneezes and soar throats--has made RVA's political class go stupid. Illustrated here is the vainglorious giant fish slayer, as Hizzoner perceives of himself, poking in the eye with a sharp stick the School Board and anybody else who gets near his position of power.

The billion-eyed audience could care less about our municipal sturm und drang; however, I live here, and the events of Friday, September 21, 2007, reinforce my loving and loathing relationship with this, the city of my nativity. So in my tunnel of work, art, writing and Colonial Avenue I was unaware--and with a certain bliss that is often paired with ignorance--of the fracas at City Hall.

Assorted bloggers and bloggists have joined the howling, handwringing, and metaphorical wrenting of garments and pulling out of hair that accompanies these not infrequent city embarrassments. I in most cases agree with these befuddled and flabbergasted accountings of current events, so I don't devote much time to such topics at the Blue Raccoon. Most times, these days, politics whir above me like the sounds of cicadas along West of the Boulevard's bosky streets.

But this one, well, I can only provide some perspective.

Joy in the Streets

Before I knew any of this, I was at the New York Deli quaffing Legends and later finding my hips and knees shake and swerve to the inspired sounds of the House of Prayer brass band that visits Carytown, usually on Friday nights. More effective than any sermon, far more poetic than a corner exhortation by a sweaty-browed, hoarse-voiced zealot, these guys just make a joyful noise, including a version of Amazing Grace that had me singing like I hadn't since being in the Stockton Memorial Baptist choir. And never with such enthusiasm. Oh, billion-eyed audience, you'd have thought you were in New Orleans.

Unknown to me, across town the public celebration and unveiling of a reinvented portion of the River District/Shockoe a plaza was getting its ribbon-cutting. You can read of this here and here. I cannot speak to the feasibility or aesthetic quality of the space, I've not seen it, but if, like well-placed furniture, it ties together an otherwise fussy room, this sounds like a positive innovation within Richmond's cityscape.

While this design may be a good omen, the events which overshadowed it carry an internal sensation like this 1912 De Chirico painting, with the appropriate title, Enigma of the Hour.


Now, Richomnd's Governor-Mayor was in attendance and according to a news report, was seen "dancing with a blue glow stick around his head." Hey, I'm all in favor of elected officials getting into the spirit, but when contrasted with the train of events of this day and evening, his joyous behavior seemed more absurd than exuberant. Like, a kind of down-market Tony Soprano at a roisterous party while a hit was carried out against a cross-town rival.


A Few Easy Ways To Make Richmond Look Even More Ridiculous

From early afternoon, the Governor-Mayor's minions conducted a purge of City Hall. First , the Minister of Enlightenment declared that a "pattern of porn usage" had been uncovered throughout computers at City Hall. This followed a similar discovery by the city's internal fiscal coordinator that after hours, service and security personnel had run up thousands of dollars in calling phone sex lines. Which leads me to suggest, that while Virginia is for lovers, and visitors should live passionately, that Richmond's slogan should be "Me So Horny."

All City Council aides were instructed by the Governor-Mayor's plenipotentiary that they would need to set up interviews to determine if they could retain their jobs. Then, much later in the afternoon, the Minister of Enlightenment sends round an e-mail urging employees to scat and not come back until Monday morning. Police began to seal off the building although some members of Council and the School Board were permitted to enter.

Now, at this point, the Governor-Mayor was following the rule book for running a coup. Seize the communications, purge the dissenters, and make sure the constabulary is on your side. The Governor-Mayor and the School Board have been at loggerheads since day one, and matters haven't been made better by a group of private businesspeople (The Gang of 26) who want to return to an appointed School Board, rather than an elected one, a suggestion that was met--near as I can determine--by almost uniform apathy by all except for a few media and civitarian types. And bloggers.

The Governor-Mayor hasn't made any friends on the Board by insisting that they should move elsewhere, the pretext being they could save the city money by getting out of City Hall. And so, movers began packing up their offices from six floors of the Great Metal Waffle that is the sad example of the Richmond's City Hall. The School Board tried convening an emergency public meeting but neither the public nor media were allowed to attend, and police threatened journalists with arrest. The Board tried forming a rear-guard defense on the steps of City Hall, but all they could do was look impotent and flabbergasted. The Board commander couldn't persuade police to relent and allow the public in, which, last time I checked, is a Constitutional right. So the School Board members did what most city officials do when at a legal crossroads: they dispatched a runner to jostle awake Henry Marsh III.

Around midnight, a Richmond circuit court judge issued a temporary restraining order to prevent any more moving to be undertaken, and all the king's men had to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

It was like some kind of Gilbert and Sullivan (or the film Topsy-Turvy) meets banana republic government take-over. And to paraphrase James Branch Cabell, were it not so heart-breaking, it would be side-splitting.

And yet, overnight polling of Mr. and Mrs. Murgatroyd indicate that most television-watching Richmonders (who are probably in Henrico and Chesterfield counties) think it was a jolly good show, since all they care about is entertainment value, not actual functioning government.

What? No gun play?

So this morning I am preambulating past the new Tom & Jerry's ice cream store, when I see this headline: "Chaos erupts at City Hall -- Wilder alleges porn link to Pantele's computer--City evictsd school officials; police ban public from meeting."
So, no shots were fired, except cheap ones, and no harm done except to bruised egos and the backs of movers. A long-standing feud between Council President Pantele--really, almost all of Council-- and the Governor-Mayor has become ugly and personal, and now that the "porn" word has shown up in proximity to an elected official's name, my guess there'll be calls for prayer breakfasts, FBI investigations and televised hearings on QVC.

Billion-eyed audience, the political forecast for Richmond for the next several months is, I predict, storms with subpoena-sized law suits. The affronted School Board, the insulted President of Council, and heck, I think the whole city should engage in a class action suit against the Governor Mayor. Just for drama, you understand.

Frankly, I think there's only one savior possible for the City of Richmond, Virginia. And here she is:


Leeloo, from the Fifth Element, or, more to the point, in this version:



Yup, she swaggers into town, and all this unpleasantness will just go away in bloody ribbons because she's armed and fabulous. Can you not see it? She bursts into the Governor-Mayor's office, assumes a martial pose and announces, "Hey Gov, don't look now, but it's Milla Time."

But, more of her, anon.


What Price Democracy?

Meanwhile, on B-2 of the morning paper, Governor Tim Kaine was reported as having addressed the 2007 National Federation of Press Women and said that when his term expires in 2010, he may not seek another public office. He voiced concerns about seeking elective office, among them low voter turn out, public scrutiny, time away from family and the sheer expense of campaigning.

"The price of elections is high enough that it excludes an awful lot of good people who might otherwise run for public office. It may not be unconstitutional, but it has the same kind of effect."

A-men brother, a-men.