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Show Hollywood doesn 't rival Formington You don't have to watch "Dallas," "Dynasty" or untangle the convoluted plots of the morning soaps to get the weekly recommended recom-mended dose of controversy. With the Farmington City Council meeting every other week, there is a wealth of hot and steamy issues right here in our very own back yard. Better yet, admission is FREE! weighing every side of every issue, before deciding a matter of critical import to the city's future. It isn't a job for everybody and citizens should be grateful anybody is willing to give so much time for so little reward and in the face of so much public indifference. I know I'm grateful. I have a front row seat to some of the finest civic drama, acted out by some of the finest politicians and administrators admin-istrators in the county. Yes, Farmington almost has it all. Now if they would only add an ounce of brevity to the recipe, the mix would be just right. In short, I ask the council to keep meetings short. Oh, and one more thing, next time don't give them Kmart when nothing less than Nordstroms will do. 'Nuff said! fir-- id I k : i On The Mark by Mark Eddlngton flow of vitriol and carping comment. com-ment. As the meeting drags on with all the speed of pond water in the wintertime, his expression fluctuates fluc-tuates between resignation and exasperation. ex-asperation. Marda Dillree is amazing. She can deliberate with all deliberateness for hours on complex budget matters or the seedy sight of dandelions infesting neighborhood yards with equal aplomb, and often does. City Planner Craig Hinckley is an anomaly. Unfailingly polite, his comments are concise and immediately im-mediately address the issue, which in my mind means his days working for the city are surely numbered. Hank Semadeni is trying for the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest time spent on a city council without uttering a quotable quote. Everytime he proffers a comment he inclines his head away from the microphone, thus rendering render-ing his remarks useless for public consumption. Hank's no dummy. Because no one is certain of what he says, he can always maintain plausible deniability. He could have taught Richard Nixon a thing or two. Art Maxwell does Hank one better. With Art you not only are unsure what he said, but if he in fact said it. You see. Art is an accomplished ac-complished ventriloquist. His incorporeal in-corporeal opinions and votes are like the wind, you are never really sure where they came from and where they are going. Art is the cagiest council member. He knows there is no retribution without attribution. at-tribution. City Administrator Max For-bush For-bush likes to play devil's advocate. Always ready to venture where angels and politicians fear to tread, Max never lets his understanding of public sensibilities stand in his way of voicing politically risque views. Lets look at a fragment 2 hours worthof what could pass for a typical discussion on an agenda item. It's admittedly more fiction a la Kitty Kelly or Paul H. Dunn than fact, but that is very much in vogue nowadays. The topic is establishing a redevelopment project to capture the increased property tax expected to come from a new Kmart development de-velopment and use that money to fund city improvements. Discussion on the issue has raged for hours. Just when it looks like nothing more could be said, Max Forbush asks, "Any objections to an interjection?" interjec-tion?" There never is. Forbush suggests capturing the tax increase from improvements at the Oakridge Country Club, by giving giv-ing the building a blight designation. designa-tion. Councilman Greg Bell rolls his eyes in mock horror. "Wouldn't that make us look greedy?" he asks. I, for one, am just glad Max can't see my desk at the office. Now there's a blight area if there ever was one. "I don't think we ought to reject Max's suggestion out of hand," someone, possibly Art, says. The recorder doesn't know who said it either and plays a quick game of "eenie meenie minie moe" before attributing the remark. Several hours and a thousand arguments later, Mayor Arbuckle asks for a motion. It's readily apparent ap-parent all of them have the notion, but as the seconds stretch into minutes it's clear there isn't a motion mo-tion in sight. Dillree breaks the silence. "I think the point " The point? What is the point? By this time fellow council members are breaking break-ing out maps, compasses and asking for eight digit grid coordinates just trying to find the dam thing. And so the meeting pointlessly continues until the wee hours of the morning. Seriously, being a public servant is a thankless job and the Farmington Farm-ington City Council and city staff-all staff-all of them do an outstanding job Where else but a Farmington City Council meeting can one listen to a sordid and squalid debate about the insidious threat posed by con-struction con-struction of a Kmart, a discount store some critics deem entirely unsuitable un-suitable for such a high-rent and upscale community? Where else but Farmington can one sit in breathless anticipation of yet another public airing of civic dirty laundry guaranteed to scorch the ears and sensibilities of even the most inured connoisseur of parsimonious par-simonious public debate? Yes, one could say Farmington has it all, were it not for one grievous annoyance. I'm talking about the length of city council meetings. Lasting an average of about five hours, they are far too long. There is an unending stream of verbiage spewing forth from the mouth of each council member that would do credit to Howard Cosell. With tongue planted firmly in cheek, let's take a look at some of an intriguing cast of characters: Mayor Robert Arbuckle is, well, mayoral in appearance. He is an avid clock watcher, but even he is helpless to stem the loquacious |