Board of Contributors: Five more admonitions for formerly new council members Board of Contributors: Five more admonitions for formerly new council members (December 18, 2002)

by Gerald Brett

Last February I wrote an article for the Weekly entitled, "Five admonitions for new council members." This was a hilarious example of journalistic art that even my hypercritical daughter admitted to finding "almost mediocre."

My intention was to welcome three newly elected members of the Palo Alto City Council, and to offer advice.

At the top of my list, I warned the newly elected politicos to avoid direct unnecessary eye contact with their constituents. In addition, I urged them to develop utilitarian catch phrases to justify all decisions, to speak with as many confusing acronyms as possible, to grasp fully their parental responsibilities to the childlike citizens of the city, and to offer profuse thanks to anyone and everyone crossing their vaunted paths.

To my amazement, not a single council member for whom my guidance was proffered ever expressed his or her gratitude. Fair enough, my brain said to my heart, maybe you should try again.

The purpose of my article today is to catch the three "newcomers" at the end of their first year, and try again to suggest some additional direction for their next year in office:

1) Profess your deep commitment to a cause, then vote against it. For example, say, "I am pro-environment," and then cast your lot with anti-environment forces. Better yet, lecture colleagues and those in the peanut gallery on environmental matters in order to show your heart is in the right place, and then do anything you want.

This formula works in many areas. "I'm a big supporter of the rights of Native Americans," is a good preface for a vote that denigrates their lives. "I stand by the homeless," will give you carte blanche to try and legislate them the hell out of Palo Alto. "Developers shouldn't boss us around," is the perfect intro to some really bodacious builder boot-licking.

2) Develop extra-sensory powers that allow you to meet telepathically with four other council members, but not be suspected of violating the Brown Act. Create code gestures to guide your cohorts. One tug on the beard should communicate a distinct message, though other methods of surreptitious signaling should be devised for the beard-deprived members of the body.

Learn to say, "J'accuse!" in a foreign language like French and claim your political opponents are cultists. Prepare a chart that shows how three council members voting identically constitutes felonious collusion, but four or five others doing the same is an example of pure patriotism. Finally, make it obvious that the only acceptable Brown Act relates to the nose.

3) Write incendiary diatribes attacking colleagues on the council, and then claim you are doing it to build harmony. Justify this approach by pointing to President Bush's resolve to preserve American democracy by scaling back civil liberties. Remember that sometimes you must hurt the ones you love in order to help them.

Another way to foster greater graciousness on the council is to mutter invectives aimed at council members you oppose, claim at least once per meeting that they are insulting you, and perfect a hissy fit that fits into Robert's Rules. In other words, be boldly contemptuous in your call for greater civility.

4) Break all social and political protocol by announcing that the City Council is dysfunctional and blame it on those members who break council protocol. If someone points out that it takes one to know one, refer to No. 3 on this list and throw a tantrum. Leak a note to the local press that neighborhood activists are forming cabals and drinking the blood of adversaries.

Claim to have knowledge that Osama bin Laden is bankrolling local PAC groups you oppose, or who oppose you. Overhear one of your enemies on the council having a cell phone conversation with the leader of the Taliban. Report what you hear in a secret memo and accidentally leave it next to the gorilla at Antonio's Nut House. 5) Start forming your own anti-recall support group. Call family and friends and tell them you never really saw yourself in politics and want to try your hand at a career in the performing arts.

Go on the cable TV show CityBeat and proclaim yourself a direct descendant of Paul Revere. Take it to the next level and buy a horse, ride up and down Alma Street, and cry, "The Brutish are coming!"

And then keep on riding. Please don't stop. Please.

Gerald Brett is a member of the Weekly's Board of Contributors. He can be e-mailed at gerald_brett@yahoo.com.