It’s all about perspective.

Regular readers of this forum know that I can be less than kind when calling out certain elected and appointed officials who seem incapable of either recognizing, or understanding, the depth of the entrenched issues facing us here on the Fun Coast.

Some see it as constructive criticism, others as a mean spirited cheap shot, but one thing is certain – nobody likes the bearer of bad news.

I’m frequently accused of being a maudlin naysayer – you know, the caviling whiner who never gets the fuzzy-wuzzies about anything.  The contrarian thinker with nothing good to say about the Turkish bazaar that passes for government in Volusia County.

Guilty as charged.

We live in troubled times, and as I’ve said before, someone has to stay on the outside.

Watching.

In recent days there has been a whole lot of mawkish hand-wringing, gnashing of teeth and rending of garments over the untimely death of the Hard Rock project – a refulgent high rise condo/motel that we were told would have risen from the dunes like a magical, transformative panacea and suddenly cured all the evils that afflict us.

The media reports of the project’s demise were almost funereal.

Hell, I all but drew the curtains and draped the mirrors in black crepe.

The Toronto-based developer, Henry Wolfond, rode into town like a lion, full of big promises and big demands.  He was the latest Bodhisattva of the Beach – an enlightened, compassionate visionary who quickly won over the local mandarinate and convinced them that he held the answers – the magic bullet that would forever kill the economic wolf that has had us by the collective throat for far too long.

As always happens, Volusia’s influential insiders and their hand-selected politicians, worked valiantly to convince us – the ignorant, unwashed rabble who have been burned so many times by speculative developers that we smell like charred ham – that if we just acquiesce to the demands and allow the removal of yet more beach driving, the tradeoff would drag us up from this squalid ash heap and save us from ourselves.

When we, the people, wouldn’t relent and dutifully bend over to the demands of Bayshore Capitol – or accept the sycophantic toadying of our own ‘high panjandrums of progress’ as being in our best interest – they did what they wanted anyway.

To hell with what their constituents wanted or didn’t want.

By 6-1 vote, the Volusia County Council folded like a cheap beach chair to the ultimatums of the developer and enacted ordinances removing beach driving from the strands behind the fictitious “Westin” project and the magical cure-all that would be the Hard Rock.

At the time, our own J. Hyatt Brown was quoted as saying, “It is a positive step.  It is one that we will never regret, and it is a step that in the future we will look back and say, ‘Good job you all.’

Never say never, J. Hyatt.

In an interesting December 2010 article in the Toronto Star, business reporter Tony Wong noted that our prospective Canadian savior, Henry Wolfond, went cross-border shopping for real estate during the depth of the recession.

Like any good scavenger – or speculative developer – Wolfond took full advantage of a bad situation and began acquiring Florida oceanfront real estate for literally pennies on the dollar.

According to Wong:

“But even by Florida deal-making standards, the deep discount price on the beach front property he closed on in September was astonishing.  The buzz reached a fever pitch among real estate circles in Daytona Beach after some “Canadian guy” had apparently purchased 3.82 acres of prime land in Daytona Beach that sold for $23 million in 2006.  The cost?  $2.5 million, representing an astonishing 89-percent discount.  The original buyer had taken a $20.5 million haircut. . .”

 I just love that part – “even by Florida deal-making standards.”  Classic.  It proves that the whole world looks at these self-important politicians and “economic developers” like the obsequious dupes they are.

 At the time, Wolfond self-righteously commented that he had picked up the beachfront property in Daytona for not much more than a “very nice home in Thornhill” (a suburb of Toronto).

In addition, Wolfond’s well-capitalized real estate fund, “Fenix Opportunity” (by-the-by, Fenix is apparently Spanish for Phoenix – the mythical bird who rose from the ashes symbolizing renewal) was on a feeding frenzy in Florida, snapping up distressed properties like a chicken on a swarm of June bugs.

Wow.  It was all cotton candy clouds and big rock candy mountains for Henry and his partners.

Life was good.

Bargain basement prices on prime real estate and a political environment that proved our elected officials would sell their children’s souls for a buck meant the potential for huge profits.

I mean, it was the perfect scenario – and I’m not even talking about the gravy:  All of us unfortunate locals were in line for jobs cleaning hotel rooms, working in an industrial laundry or toting bags for the pretty people who would come and luxuriate on the Hard Rock’s exclusive private beach.

Man.  The world was spinning in greased grooves, just like Steinbeck said.

Then, on a recent late summer Sunday morning, we poured a cup of joe and opened the Daytona Beach News-Journal, only to be taken to the proverbial woodshed by our very own benevolent redeemer, Henry Wolfond.

Yep.  Seems it was our fault that he was forced to pull the plug on the ‘Hard Rock Daytona Beach’ – or, as he described it, “a catalyst for massive investment into the Daytona Beach beachside community.”

Many of us read the article twice and came away with the uneasy knowledge that – despite what Glenn Ritchey told us – Mr. Wolfond was no longer our friend.

According to Hank, “obstructionist” elements in the pro beach driving community crushed our little goose that shit the golden egg with “continuous and ongoing litigation” as part of a “strategic effort to prevent the certainty needed to allow the construction of this project.”

Following Mr. Wolfond’s weepy and condescending eulogy, the News-Journal expended rolls of newsprint ensuring that all involved with this much heralded, yet dead-on-arrival, theme hotel got an equal chance to point their finger and lecture us on what a bunch of poopy-heads we all are for “killing” the project with our sinister stratagem of “uncertainty and delay.”

It appears that Bayshore’s highly paid mouthpiece, Glenn Storch, took the loss personally.  He was last heard lamenting in mournful terms, “It is as if many folks want Daytona Beach to fail.”

My ass.

Note to Mr. Wolfond:  If you can’t find a way to turn a reasonable profit on 3.8 acres of prime beachfront property that you literally picked up at a $20.5 million discount – knowing full-well that we’ve driven on this beach for, oh, the past hundred years or so –  then you probably should have shown up at business school the day they taught, well, business.

Just maybe there is some shit we won’t eat.  Did you ever think of that?

Maybe there is a certain segment of the silent majority here on the “Fun Coast” that are sick and tired of being manhandled by government overreach.  Beleaguered taxpayers that have learned through near constant trial and error that, despite the glittery promises, speculative developers really don’t have our best interests at heart.

Listen, don’t lecture me – you greedy bastard – about how exercising our God-given, constitutionally protected right to petition our government for redress of grievances has negatively impacted your ability to fleece a bunch of hapless rubes into buying overpriced rock-n-roll themed condominiums.

Don’t presume to tell me that citizens seeking judicial review of their county councils “give till it hurts, then give some more” economic development strategy – a policy that is quickly stripping our local heritage – somehow gave your “investors” a case of the heebie-jeebies.

If Henry Wolfond – or any of these goddamn leeches that throw in with him – thought that they could make a dime off this place there would be nothing, and I mean nothing, that could stop them.

Every pirate in the world has sacked and looted this strip of sand for the past 500 years.  So if Henry thinks he can puff out his lower lip and make us feel bad, he’s sadly mistaken.

We’ve become grizzled veterans of these petty little storms created by people who make their living gambling with other people’s money – usually ours.

Hell, going broke in Daytona Beach is almost a rite of passage for speculative developers, land rapers, and greedheads.  Just ask Bray & Gillespie – or any of the poor saps still holding the paper on their big time promises.

Maybe ol’ Hank should have done his homework.

If you can’t turn a dollar on dirt-cheap beachfront property – in an environment where local government will literally agree to anything and cough-up corporate welfare like a dyspeptic dog – then perhaps the problem goes a little deeper than beach driving and disobedient locals.

Perhaps it’s time the powers that be turn their accusatory fingers at themselves and determine exactly where this shit-train jumped the track.

Regardless, I’m tired of being harangued by a cheapjack Canadian hustler and these ‘oh-so-smart’ fools in local and county government who so enthusiastically bought into the hype.

 

Photo Credit: The Daytona Beach News-Journal via Twitter

 

 

“The price of apathy towards public affairs is to be ruled by evil men.”

 Plato

Here it is Labor Day.  To say I enjoyed working in a pursuit important to the life of my community is an understatement.

During my professional life I served in a very active and dynamic police department.  Our agency served a small town that was often challenged with “bigger city” issues due to our very close proximity to our larger, much more troubled neighbor.

It was a busy, rapidly changing life – moving and jumping from one thing to another.

A career full of challenges to overcome, increasing responsibilities, wonderful camaraderie, interesting and exciting situations – never a dull moment, as they say.

Then one day you turn around and 31-years have come and gone – literally in the blink of an eye.

A nice party is thrown in your honor, people say lovely things about your service to the community, commemorative plaques are bestowed, and then around midnight the party starts to wane and you find yourself standing alone, realizing how ephemeral it all was.

The following morning starts “the next phase” of life – retirement – what everyone waits for.

The great reward we all swap the best part of our lives for. The recompense for our sacrifice.

Trust me – the transition can be difficult.  And I suspect some of us never quite make the leap.

Last January I found a constructive outlet for my limited energy but boundless opinions when I founded this blog – Barker’s View.  Unbelievably, in just nine months my little experiment has been viewed some 30,000 times and continues to generate some healthy, even heated, criticism of my views and opinions on local politics – good and bad.

Recently, a reader referred to me as a “hack” whose only “claim to fame” is blogging about issues in DeBary.

The critic is right – I am a hack.

I have no formal training in either creative writing or journalism – and anyone who mistakes these missives as anything other than one man’s opinion is delusional.  These essays aren’t fact-based reporting – they are, at best, the nonsensical rants of someone who sees wrongs but no longer has the strength of character or practical means to right them.

Little more than a voice from the wilderness, I suppose.

After all, someone has to stay on the outside looking in, right?

I have also received some very uplifting, heartfelt and constructive observations from friends and strangers who enjoy reading this blog.

On a recent afternoon I received a very kind note from a very prominent person in our community – an individual who I’ve never met and with whom I’ve often disagreed.  Suffice it to say, he draws a lot of water in circles that I’m not privileged to travel in.

This very important reader told me that, despite the fact I often take him to task, he believes my essays are valuable in the context that they hold those in government accountable.  He urged me to continue.

Perhaps he’s right.

Truth be told, I have an on-going dialog with a few of the politicians and appointed officials that I write about – ones whose hearts are in the right place, and who are smart enough to know that my missives aren’t that influential, good or bad.  Public servants who can find humor and perhaps some kernel of insight in my prattle.

I find that refreshing – especially in today’s ‘take-no-prisoners’ political environment.

I respect those who can disagree with me – even vehemently – but still laugh at themselves and be agreeable at the end of the day.

Another person I deeply respect told me that one reason these “movers and shakers” read the blog regularly is because – even if I’ve called them a gutless pig, or worse – the fact that someone took the time to mention them means they are politically relevant and still essential to the discussion.

That’s true.

It’s all fun, but interestingly, I find that the older I get the less I actually care about how others view me – or my opinions – than I did when I was a younger man and the stakes were higher.

I think it was the late, great poet and author Jim Harrison who said that one of the benefits of aging is the fact you truly don’t have to care anymore.

Young people say, “I don’t care,” but they know in their hearts they don’t really mean it.

They haven’t the luxury.

In actuality, they care deeply because their career, family or other important personal or professional obligation requires that they pay attention and commit themselves both physically and emotionally to all that life demands.

But as we get older, we have earned the preference of simply becoming disinterested; less concerned about the day-to-day trivialities of life.

For instance, when I say that I really don’t care what people think of me anymore – I mean it.

I could give a Tinker’s damn.

The negative perceptions of others simply don’t matter anymore.  I suppose that I have outlived whatever level of vanity causes anxiety over whether or not someone else agrees or disagrees with what I do, or how I think.

Perhaps it’s just been beaten out of us by a certain age.

While certain aspects of my life no longer interest me in the least – I find that other, more complex concerns, really bother me. Issues like environmental crimes, political influence, bullying behaviors by government, and cruelty toward children and defenseless animals top the list of things I feel passionate about.

I suppose it’s why I speak out in the one venue I have left – a personal opinion blog site.

Recently, the Daytona Beach News-Journal posted what I felt were some rather strange views on the recurring issues facing our beachside – and the role beach driving advocates may or may not have had in obstructing what some consider “progress”.

The newspaper went so far as to say that since traditional beach driving candidates were almost unanimously rejected at the polls during the recent primary, the results nullify the argument that beach access is a “live or die” issue for local politicians.

Interestingly, both of our current county chair candidates – Ed Kelley and Jason Davis – campaigned on a strong pro beach driving platform.  Even though smart people – voter’s familiar with the candidates’ histories – understood going in that what Ed and Jason say is often counter to what they actually do when it comes time to vote.

In my view, what nobody in a position to matter wants to admit is that east Volusia still suffers from a deep-seated apathy – the result of long-term political disfranchisement – and an acute identity crisis exacerbated by a lack of vision for the future or focus on the serious problems we face.

A large segment of our elected officials still believe that the right development is all we need to collectively rise like a Phoenix from the fetid ashes of beachside blight and degradation.

For instance, take Daytona Beach City Manager Jim Chisholm’s remarks in the aftermath of the Hard Rock announcement – “It’s just a matter of finding the right high-quality hotel.”

He just doesn’t get it.

There is no individual developer – or single project – that will ultimately serve as a panacea for the problems that face us.

Perhaps we should begin to listen to those who are actually in the arena working to make a difference – folks like Daytona Beach urban redeveloper Jack White.

In an interview with the News-Journal, Mr. White was right in his assessment that there is no “silver bullet” solution to the host of ills plaguing renewal efforts.

Smart people like Mr. White understand that it will take more than a “Margaritaville” hotel to turn things around long term.  People need a reason to come to the World’s Most Famous Beach beyond speed weeks and motorcycle rallies.

They need entertainment and vitality in a safe, fun environment.

Steadily falling occupancy rates and a lack of strategic vision by our local and county elected officials has more to do with why investors shy away from the Halifax area than beach driving or any silly theme hotel.

Face it.  Absent the beach, there is simply no reason for people to spend their disposable income vacationing here.  None.

And our elected and appointed officials have the unmitigated gall to point their finger and blame us for their colossal failure to ignite interest and effect positive change.

It’s time the powers that be realize that we live in an environment where just 27% of the electorate still care enough to vote.  I can only assume that the remainder of our friends and neighbors – the silent majority – have simply given up.

They have come to accept that no matter who they vote for, nothing changes.

Shapeshifting politicians like Ed Kelley, Jason Davis and Josh Wagner have done more to damage the reputation, credibility and stability of Volusia County government than anything – yet the electorate has become uncomfortably numb to the political atrocities, insider influence and government overreach that have become the norm here on the Fun Coast.

Over time, it’s been beaten out of them.

The News-Journal – and those influential insiders in local and county government – should understand that this primary was not a ringing endorsement of those who would fritter our heritage of beach driving away to the highest bidder; but rather a gross indictment of a system that has become so detached, unresponsive and ineffectual that no one truly cares anymore.

Congratulations.  You won.  Who cares.

 

 

 

 

 

The role of a police chief, especially in a small municipality, can take many interesting forms.

You are often called to serve as ombudsmen for community disputes, solve neighborhood crime problems, or calm anxious nerves during emergencies.

How you do that is often left to your own creativity.

For instance, I once “divorced” an elderly couple when they had way too much to drink and began a drunken squabble.  After our third visit to the couple’s home, we settled the matter for the evening by writing out a formal divorce decree on a blank police form – pink copy went to the lady, yellow to the gentleman.

The very next day they showed up at the police department begging to be re-married.  They just couldn’t live without each other.

It certainly wasn’t a “de-escalation” tactic taught at the police academy – it was something I remembered from an old Joseph Wambaug movie – but everyone lived happily ever after.

And isn’t that what it’s all about anyway?

You could come up with imaginative solutions back then.  Today, I most likely would have been clapped in irons for practicing law without a license.

Besides, government doesn’t deal with community issues with any degree of creativity anymore.

Normally, government slugs along at a snail’s pace – not very nimble and with far too many moving parts to spool-up quickly.  Even simple actions can take months of deliberation and study, the hiring of consultants, commissioning studies and meetings to weigh options.

In actual fact, so much of the inner workings are make-work formalities for mid-level shovel leaners and contractors who speak in acronyms and complicate most issues far beyond acceptable reason.

Then there are the examples of what happens when the beast suddenly awakens, kicks off the traces, and sets its sights on an individual or entity that raises its fury.

During my career, I saw this phenomenon take many forms, but the one common denominator in each case is that the offending party somehow challenged the authority of a government official (usually a petty but high-ranking pen pusher or politician), or somehow found a way to offend the devout social mores of a few – but very vocal – zealots in the community.

Once that happens, the offending person or entity cannot simply walk away from the gauntlet and make-nice.  Too late for that.

The meat grinder has been engaged, and it will eat.

For example, remember the bloody two-year war between the City of Ormond Beach and the now defunct “Cheaters” – a tawdry “bikini club” located on north U.S.-1 in unincorporated Volusia County?

In this case, a small business owner felt the full might and power of government, the use of selective legislation, and the unchecked aggression of the city attorney’s office when the powers that be decided they wanted to enforce their narrow view of what’s good for the rest of us.

Always done in the interest of “public safety” or to “improve the community.”

The crime?

Cheaters offended the delicate sensibilities of Fred Costello, Ed Kelley, and their followers (read ‘large voting bloc’) in the “Faith Community.”

In a November 2015 piece in the Ormond Beach Observer, Costello explained the genesis of the City’s very expensive and extremely time-consuming feud with a little bar, literally on the outskirts of town:

Costello said the efforts to improve the U.S.-1 corridor began in earnest when the now defunct Cheater’s nightclub opened in 2010. 

 “I contacted members of the faith community and said we need to stop this,” he said.  Area churches protested the presence of the “gentlemen’s club.”

 Eventually, the City Commission passed ordinances which ended the performances at the club and it shut down.  It was also the existence of Cheaters that spurred the Coalition to action.
Business, government and the faith community all partnered together,” Costello said.

That’s right, our own New Puritans Fred Costello and Ed Kelley used the full force, might and treasure of the municipal government to crush a low-rent saloon that didn’t comport with their “vision” for the near desolate north U.S.-1 commercial corridor.

And guess who paid the bill?  Costello?  Kelley?  The “Faith Community”?

Hardly.

You and I did.

I’m told another dollar store is being built where the offending bikini club once stood.

Great.  2.5 jobs and whole bunch of discount plastic shit we don’t need.

The upside is that despite the fact we spent hundreds of thousands of taxpayer dollars shutting down a small business – Fred Costello, Ed Kelley, and their friends in the “Faith Community” are no longer offended.  Homeless people and improved public amenities be damned – they spent the money protecting you from a bikini bar. . .

How wonderful.

Now we see the same tactics being used by the City of Daytona Beach to shut down “Minglers,” (I love that name) apparently a local gathering spot for wife-swappers, harmless sex maniacs and cheap masturbators on South Ridgewood Avenue, downtown.

I don’t know how you feel about these things, but I come from the school of ‘to each their own.’

If a few of my neighbors want to get together behind closed doors and “mingle,” how does that negatively affect me?

Hell, how does that affect me at all?

These things have been around for thousands of years.  In 18^th century England the king and half his ministers were members of secret sex clubs, traveling orgies and violent whipping parlors that embraced every debauchery known to man.  Before that, the sexual haunts of Gaius Caligula and the Marquis de Sade were legendary.  It’s nothing new.

Look, I’m not a card carrying associate of Minglers – nobody invited me – and besides, I have a rule never to join any sex club that would have a degenerate like me as a member.

But I suspect that this went down as these things often do:  Invariably, some pious somebody catches wind that consenting adults are doing what consenting adults do – albeit with whips, chains and photos from the dark side – and they get their virtuous knickers in a twist.

Then they complain, bitch and brood until they find someone in a position to do something about it who agrees with them.

Rather than a friendly reminder that hosting “Arabian Nights – A Harem’s Orgy” two blocks from the front door of City Hall is probably not the smartest move – or the best use of South Ridgewood office space – the city’s fangs come out.

Instead of sitting down with all involved and saying, “Just maybe we can find a space where you weird little sodomites can “mingle” to your hearts content” (after all, it’s not like Daytona Beach has a dearth of vacant buildings – or sodomites) the city decides to go to war.

Surely there is someplace these swinging taxpayers can “meet” that’s not going to violate some obscure zoning regulation?

I guess not.

That would be too easy – and besides – how would lawyers make a living if local government suddenly started using common sense collaborative approaches to problem solving?

According to the News-Journal, in August the City of Daytona Beach filed for an injunction to close the club, alleging it is operating in violation of city zoning without a tax receipt (formerly known as an occupational license) and without city water service – even though the club tried to comply with both municipal requirements.

They don’t have water because the city shut it off – after they paid the bill.

The city also denied the club a tax receipt because it said the area’s zoning does not permit “adult theater” or bottle clubs.  That’s a stretch.

Of course, the attorney representing Mingler’s, Brett Hartley (who just happens to be co-owner of a Daytona Beach strip club) claims, “It’s no different than a book club or birding club.  They get together and take part in their lifestyle.”

According to Hartley, “It’s not a sex club.  It’s a lifestyle club where people use the facility to meet others and then they may leave and do their own thing.”

Hey now.

I wrote most of this missive before the News-Journal’s spot-on editorial on the subject was published.  I’m glad they are urging the city to use a soft hand.

Unfortunately, I think it will fall on deaf ears.

Trust me – when all is said and done – a ton of taxpayer dollars and senior staff time will have been pissed away to use government’s iron boot heel to crush the ability of a fringe group of otherwise law abiding citizens to harmlessly practice their goofy “lifestyle” in a vacant former church on South Ridgewood.

At the same time, the property owner will be required to defend himself through countless court hearings just to avoid the very real threat of punishing judgments and draconian code enforcement measures that have driven more than one small business owner to financial ruin.

Sorry, swingers.  You’re screwed. (Figuratively.  Don’t get excited.)

It’s been the same forever.  Put up a fence – or cover your windows – and it won’t be long before some do-gooder wants to know what’s “going on over there.”  And if it takes the full force of government to get at it, well, so be it.

If only we could get the same all-hands-on-deck response from our elected and appointed officials on important issues like homelessness, blight, crime, our crumbling neighborhoods – or the quality and quantity of our drinking water supply.  You know, things that actually have a direct impact on our lives and livelihoods.

Wouldn’t that be unique?

How great would it be if these highly paid elected and appointed officials actually met the very real needs of their constituents with the same verve and spirit with which they attack silly, nonsensical issues that generally go away on their own without much notice?

I hate to say it, but don’t you people at City Hall have better things to do?

 

Photo Credit: Daytona Beach News-Journal

 

 

 

 

 

 

As naturally happens on a foul day like today, friends and family are asking, “How about those primary results?”

How about them.

While some of the races came out to my liking – for instance, I think Arthur Byrnes is a great servant-leader who puts his whole heart into serving the citizens of Holly Hill – and Bill Hall is going to be a great mayor in South Daytona – I was blindsided by the outcome of the County Chair contest.

As typically happens in Volusia County, we are now left with the awful choice between the two special interest puppets, Jason Davis and Ed Kelley.

I’ve always lived by Mae West’s maxim, “When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I’ve never tried before.”  The problem is, we’ve seen both of these political hacks in action before.

When all is said and done, I will vote for Jason Davis – for the simple fact that he had the guts to call out Volusia Republican Executive Committee Chairman and first class weasel, Tony Ledbetter, for his arrogance and open dishonesty in attempting to manipulate the process in favor of Ed Kelley.

I will then walk pensively into the restroom and throw-up.

The more things change, the more they stay the same in Volusia County.  We are like a weird sadomasochistic tribe who derive our collective gratification from repetitive degradation and public humiliation.

I equate the recycling of politicians in Volusia County to the same phenomena that has given rise to something called “Bro Country” (which some actually classify as “music”) and the prevalence of “safe spaces” and “free speech zones” on college campuses.  And I recently read a poll that said a certain segment of the population believe that the moon is actually made of green cheese.

I recognize it, but I’ll be damned if I understand it.

Maybe we truly have grown too dumb to think for ourselves.  Is it possible that our society has become too disinterested and self-absorbed?  Do we no longer have the inclination to educate ourselves on the issues, or the records of the candidates who will govern our lives and livelihoods?

Perhaps that’s why we are constantly victimized by unchecked political corruption and hopeless greed here in the Sunshine State.

It’s déjà vu all over again. . .

This spring I became engrossed in the Daytona Beach News-Journal’s outstanding effort to unmask a fishy land deal in a small backwater of West Volusia.

As I read reporter Dinah Voyles-Pulver’s Pulitzer-worthy exposé on the City of DeBary’s attempt to incorporate 102-acres of sensitive conservation lands into a proposed transit oriented development near the SunRail station, I realized that there was more to this story than just run-of-the-mill small town incompetence.

It is apparent that Ms. Pulver has actually kicked over a filthy chamber pot of massive corruption that goes all the way to the very top of a powerful state regulatory agency – the very organization we trust to protect our most precious and important natural resources.

What I euphemistically call the ‘Debacle in DeBary’ is like a weird Spanish telenovela where the main characters are brought to personal and professional ruin by moral weakness, and their inability to control their own emotions or the devious maneuverings of those they trusted most.

It is an on-going disaster drama of epic proportions, and each week an unfortunate new development peels another layer off this rotten onion.

You couldn’t find these characters if you searched the bowels of Hollywood’s central casting.

Take for instance the strange and savage tale of the ill-fated and arguably insane Mayor Clint Johnson, who was summarily executed by his fellow elected officials; or the painfully hopeless vice-mayor – Lita Handy-Peters – whose convenient memory, political clumsiness and unfortunate stupidity are rapidly conspiring to make her the very face of this catastrophe.

Or Mike Brady, Chris Carson and Rick Dwyer – the ineffectual councilmen who sit on the dais in a catatonic state, immobilized by fear and a lack of any real situational awareness – desperately looking for leadership and guidance like a drowning man grasping for a life ring that is just out of reach.

Add to this mix the likes of A. Kurt Ardaman, Esquire – DeBary’s caricature of a city attorney and registered developer’s lobbyist – who acts like a lawyer that speaks English as a second language.  He instinctively thinks in terms of how his legal advice will best benefit him and his co-conspirators – then translates that into convincing terms the hapless dupes who pay for his counsel will want to hear.

And don’t forget the sub-plot of Mr. Ardaman’s secret business relationship with John Miklos – the slimy quid pro quo grifter who neatly ramrods the special interests of his private clients past the very state regulatory agency that he oversees.

Neither history – nor the criminal justice system – will be kind to John Miklos.

The bit players and rogues in this theater of the absurd include the developer’s shill masquerading in a manufactured public position called a “Transit Oriented Development Marketing Director,” Roger Van Auker.

Only in government would you find such a title.

He was hand-selected by disgraced former city manager Dan Parrott, a contemptuous little shit who did more to damage the future and reputation of DeBary than anyone.  When he allowed Van Auker’s head in the tent, Parrott and others in a position to do something about it knew, or should have known, that Roger was a demonstrably unethical shill for mega-developer Jerome Henin and others.

That’s right – the same Jerome Henin that in one of the most perverse scenes in this bizarre soap opera openly strip-cleared some 30-acres of old growth forest without permission or permit.  Just bulldozed 100-year old trees and churned the ground into a primordial ooze right under the noses of DeBary officials who were either completely clueless – or intentionally looked the other way.

In my view, at the end of the day, Van Auker will ultimately be exposed as the chief architect of this political disaster – and he will find that people who matter will quit taking his phone calls in the very near future.

Hey, Roger – the power-haunts of old money Winter Park can be pretty lonely places once you’re outside the circle of trust.  The big boys and pretty girls on Park Avenue have no use for the weak or the dumb – and you’re becoming the poster boy for everything they hate.

If it’s any consolation – you were never a player.  Just a tool.

Last week, I filed a formal public records request with the City of DeBary seeking a copy of a non-disclosure agreement between Roger Van Auker and an “unnamed developer” whose existence has been discussed at several public meetings.

Given the fact that the TOD as originally envisioned has been effectively halted with the transfer of the Gemini Springs Annex to the County of Volusia, I was certain that the confidentiality agreement would be considered null and void at this point.

Nope.

I received a missive from DeBary’s Public Records Manager, Eric Frankton, who assured me that – while there was no “secret developer” for the 102-acres (his words, not mine) – the city attorney has determined that the agreement remains exempt and I am not entitled to it under Florida’s Public Records law

Now, I don’t want to argue with Eric – he’s a very sensitive guy – but isn’t the fact that the identity of the land developer is being held confidential the textbook definition of a “secret developer”?

And what compelling public interest is possibly served by keeping a now unnecessary document exempt and out of the public eye?

According to Mr. Ardaman, we, the people, are simply supposed to take his word for it.

And why shouldn’t we?

Because this is the same Kurt Ardaman that came under fire for his participation in an October 2014 ‘secret meeting’ with Orange County Mayor Teresa Jacobs in his role as a registered lobbyist for “developers and auto auctions.”

The same person who represented the City of DeBary during the time city hall was raided by FDLE and the Office of the State Attorney following credible allegations that Dan Parrott and other officials may have violated public records law.

The same Kurt Ardaman who is engaged in a highly suspect business relationship with John Miklos in a mysterious corporation known only as “Medjool Investments” – something he willfully and conveniently failed to disclose to his clients at the City of DeBary.

The same Kurt Ardaman who is known in Orange County political circles as a “quarterback” for his ability to approach big money campaign donors – I believe while also serving as Governor Rick Scott’s personal appointment as a trustee of the West Orange Healthcare District.

(I find it interesting that two gubernatorial appointees to separate governing boards – Ardaman and Miklos – find themselves in business together?  How ‘bout you?)

Besides, how many public offices can one man hold in this state?

The fact is, Kurt Ardaman is so personally invested in high-level politics and speculative land development in Central Florida that he has no business being within a country mile of a city attorney’s seat – yet, there he is.

Yep.  Nothing to see here, folks.  Keep moving.

Now, I’m just spit-balling here, but unless we, the people, are permitted to examine documents that prove otherwise – how do we know with certainty that DeBary’s “unnamed developer” isn’t a current or former client of Mr. Ardaman?

An “investor” in Medjool Investments?

Or a commercial developer that he serves as a highly paid registered lobbyist?

How do we know it’s not a business entity that once employed Roger Van Auker?

Hell, how do we know that Ardaman isn’t in business with this “unnamed developer”?

(Do you think he would tell us if he was?)

The fact is, we don’t know.  And if the powers that be have anything to say about it – we won’t.

In Crazy Town you are expected to take the foxes word for the security of the hen house.

He sets the rules and you don’t.

In my view, Kurt Ardaman and his unscrupulous co-conspirators at the City of DeBary are doing exactly what it appears they are doing:  They are hiding evidence of their misdeeds from the public’s prying eyes through dubious exemptions and political slight-of-hand.

Vorpius de liporius octo.

I hope these shitheels understand that federal and state investigators won’t be as easy to dismiss.

I suspect Ardaman’s partners at Fishback Dominick are secretly studying their options.  After all, just how much bad publicity does a very old and very prestigious law firm need, eh?

Someone should probably tell the DeBary City Council that when the ship is sinking – and it is most definitely in peril – the prudent thing to do is instruct your goofy staff to be as open, transparent and responsive as possible.

Throw the doors and windows open, roll up your sleeves, let some air and sunlight in, and let everyone see for themselves that you have absolutely nothing to hide.

I assure you that your constituents will consider anything less as prima facie evidence of a cheap political cover-up – despite what Kurt Ardaman might lead you to believe.

But, like I said, this group isn’t that smart.

At the end of the day, these miserable wretches deserve the political fate that awaits them, and they should all be put in an iron cage, if for no other reason than to keep their special brand of squalid dumbness out of local politics.

If you still don’t think it’s important who we elect to public office, wait until the depth of the corruption is exposed and the curtain comes down on this farce in DeBary.

Then think again.

 

Politics is not just about elections.

It can seem that way, especially now, during the final few hours before the primary when local candidates – many of whom are under real pressure for the first time in their lives – go bat-shit crazy with fear, failing self-confidence and false hubris.

Like Dr. Thompson said so eloquently, “That is the nature of professional politics.  Many are called, but few survive the nut-cutting hour…”

Next Tuesday the die will be cast and the field whittled down to the true players; the Big Dogs who are moving on to the general.  The also-rans – the fringe candidates and political dilettantes – will soon be forgotten.  Their friends and family will openly laugh and humiliate them, and their excuses will fall on deaf ears.  No one will care.

Alliances will shift overnight and things will take a decidedly serious turn as campaigns gear up for the big dance in November.

Last Sunday I took a leisurely drive down to the local library to “early vote.”

The most direct route from our home takes me along the west bank of the beautiful Halifax river; and as I drove along enjoying the view on a late summer morning, I smoked an American Spirit Black and contemplated the fact that what I was about to accomplish is the culmination of what passes for our political process in 2016.

As I turned the corner to the Ormond Beach regional library, I saw that the parking area was virtually awash in campaign signs, each blending into the other to form a kaleidoscope of bright colors and shapes that encircled the entire lot like an impenetrable blockade.

So many signs in such tight confines that the individual messages became meaningless.

I slowed and navigated the phalanx of cheap nylon tents and lawn chairs occupied by perspiring candidates and their supporters, each wearing campaign t-shirts like battledress, sucking on water bottles, and staking out territory at what must be the ragged edge of the solicitation restrictions.

I assume they were acting out of some desperate belief that their very proximity to the door could sway a vote or two.

While it wasn’t utter chaos – given the strong emotions of the election cycle, it had all the elements for things to turn sour quickly.

I thought how ironic it was that for the past six-months the various candidates have groveled at our feet, spent tens of thousands of dollars, and all but publicly defiled themselves for our vote – only to impede that very process at the actual point of sale.

Honestly, I’ve seen polling place wars before – but last weekend many early voting locations around Volusia County looked like an actual skirmish encampment.

I have to admit; it was somewhat overwhelming – even claustrophobic.

Most of you don’t know this, but I have lived with social anxiety and obsessive/compulsive disorder since I was very young.

No kidding.  It can be debilitating, too.

For me, it takes several forms – mental and physical rituals dictate how I turn off lights and appliances, how food is prepared and served (buffet? Not happening), the copious use of hand sanitizer – even certain colors can be problematic (for instance, any shade of orange is a no-no in our house).

Weird?  You bet.

But to my knowledge there is no single accepted theory on why it occurs – and even less consensus on the efficacy of the limited treatment options available.

Many highly successful people have suffered with OCD, to include, Beethoven, Charles Darwin, Albert Einstein, Howard Hughes – and celebrities, such as Howie Mandel, Harrison Ford, Justin Timberlake and Leonardo DiCaprio.

It’s quite a distinguished list, actually.  So, I feel like I’m in good company.

In most situations, I function with reasonable normalcy (I know some may debate that) and I have held positions of high responsibility most of my adult life.  In fact, I think the disorder actually made me a better police officer, given the close attention to detail, intense focus and perseverance required of a good investigator.

This condition can manifest itself in odd ways.  For instance, I can speak comfortably, even intelligently, in front of very large groups of people – yet a small dinner party or brief social interaction can result in near paralysis.

Because of my social phobia, don’t expect me to answer the phone on certain days, join a committee, run for political office – or even respond to a knock at the door.  And now that I’m retired – although I can’t do everything I want to do – I never have to do anything I don’t want to do.

Just know it’s not you.  It’s me.

I don’t take medication or participate in cognitive therapies, but when things get debilitating I have time-tested coping mechanisms that allow me to deal with acute OC flare ups with relative ease.

For example, I have a real aversion to crowds and the thought of standing in queue at my assigned polling place on election day would be extremely uncomfortable.

So, I simply avoid that situation.

In fact, I probably wouldn’t vote if the space were too crowded and I have considered casting my ballot by mail in the future to avoid these issues.

Perhaps these sensitivities are why I took such close notice of the situation in the parking lot last weekend, but I suspect I’m not alone.

I understand from social media posts and media accounts that things were worse at other locations.  Reports of petty bickering and nasty taunts between campaign operatives – and in some cases, voters – resulting in angry confrontations, etc.

Just what folks want to see on their way to the polls, eh?

It really engenders confidence in a candidate when you see his or her operatives squabbling, squawking and strutting around the parking lot like an unhinged Kelso rooster.

Speaking of unbalanced electioneers, I was particularly impressed when I read accounts of the abhorrent conduct of the Republican’s own Chairman-for-Life Tony Ledbetter.

According to the Daytona Beach News-Journal, when voters began arriving at the City Island polling location last weekend they found tents, chairs and campaign signs completely blocking parking spaces which, as common sense would dictate, had been reserved for the voting public and patrons of the library.

This annoying impediment to the electoral process was met with calls to the City of Daytona Beach’s code enforcement division who responded to investigate.  After looking things over, the code officer explained the applicable ordinance – and requested voluntarily compliance from representatives of the various campaigns – rather than write citations.

We’re told everyone complied with the rules – except Chairman Ledbetter.

After all, past practice tells us that Tony feels the rules only apply to the little people.

Although Ledbetter refused to comment to the News-Journal on his latest obstructionist grandstanding; when he was caught doing the same damn thing in 2014, he denigrated officers as “nut jobs” and rationalized his conduct as, “It’s free speech.  Get used to it.”

I happen to know that this isn’t the first time Tony has attempted to intimidate code enforcement officers with his “Do you know who I am?” condescending horseshit.

And he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

What an asshole.  What a complete asshole.

In my view, it is simply inconceivable that a giddy little creep like like Tony Ledbetter is habitually permitted to openly embarrass and defame the reputation of tens of thousands of area Republicans as he rules their local executive committee like a feudal lord.

No rules, no integrity – and no restrictions on his perception of power, ethics or honor.

Look, I understand that I have serious issues.  But I can assure you that my ability to recognize and reject bullshit is just as sharp and nimble as it ever was.

Take my word for it.  It’s time for Tony Ledbetter to resign.

Now, get out there and run the gauntlet on Saturday – cast your vote and make a difference.  It’s important.

Have a great weekend, kids.

 

During my long career in municipal government I once worked for a city manager who told me I was “incendiary” based upon the tone of certain professional correspondence.  The manager suggested that I “sleep on it” before sending emails that others might interpret as angry or confrontational.

I responded that I was passionate about my service, and if others were somehow put off by that, then perhaps they should stop whining to the manager about the content of my in-house missives and focus on the important work at hand.

(This same manager later called me a Son-of-a-Bitch to my face when I refused to go along with a goofy scheme to cover-up wrongdoing.  Ultimately, the individual was cashiered out and has failed to prosper since.  Something I remain rather proud of.)

“Incendiary” and “charismatic” are how they describe people in government who make bureaucrats nervous by asking the right questions or having sharp elbows – you know, not playing well with others.

During my service, I worked with some incredibly brilliant and passionate minds – both elected and appointed.  I have also worked with, and for, some of the most preternatural scumbags, losers and base scoundrels that ever darkened a public office.

By and large, government prefers conformists.

Common bootlickers who are comfortable following in lockstep with like-minded people and banal hall walkers with malleable situational ethics generally fit the mold.

For most of my career, my sound advice for upward mobility and organizational tranquility in public service was, “Let no ass go un-kissed.”  The motto certainly served me well, and became a daily reminder for everything from proper telephone etiquette to personal interactions with citizens.

Last evening what I affectionately refer to as the “Debacle in DeBary” reached its nadir with the summary execution of Mayor Clint Johnson by his fellow elected officials on dubious charges that he violated certain provisions the city’s charter.

If there is one bright spot (there isn’t, but let’s pretend there is), the convoluted and incredibly expensive process used by the bureaucracy to protect itself from the Mayor’s tough questions and red hot criticism exposed some very disturbing facets of what passes for governance in the City of DeBary.

After several fits, starts, and postponements, last night DeBary city officials convened their long-awaited “forfeiture hearing,” a weird kangaroo court designed in whole and in part to ignore the will of the voters and publicly extract Mayor Johnson from his seat on the council like a rotten molar.

The genesis of this cheap coup d’etat began months before when the now disgraced former city manager, Dan Parrott – I suspect in a panicky attempt to conceal his crimes and those of his hand-picked toadies – grasped at straws and came up with the ill-fated idea of twisting a few of the Mayor’s more opinionated tweets and Facebook posts – along with a text message or two – into self-described “charter violations.”

High crimes that were hyped beyond any cruelty ever perpetrated by the Marquis de Sade.

To do this, he enlisted the city’s public records manager, Eric Frankton (the kind of guy you can just look at and tell that he’s a mess of a human being – pitiful, really), and the congenitally corrupt developer’s shill parading as an “economic development director,” Roger Van Auker.

It was Frankton and Van Auker’s job to squirt tears and paint themselves as pseudo-victims, then whine like hyper-sensitive little girls about how the Mayor “directed” Eric to move a box – or threatened the pair’s make-work city jobs by actually pointing out their habitual missteps and open treachery.

They played their supporting roles well last night.  Hell, I choked-up a little listening to how they were brutalized by a “tweet.”  I wanted to put my arm around them and walk them to their car.  Sad.

I just hope they know that when the dust settles, Frankton will be considered a pariah – and following his indictment, Van Auker will be lucky to find work selling toxic swampland on the outskirts of Clewiston.

I suspect Parrott also had some help from the unfortunate city attorney, Kurt Ardaman, who has made so many expensive and blatantly stupid mistakes in his representation of the City of DeBary that he should be sued for quackery and stripped of his “law degree” that he obviously pulled out of the bottom of some sticky Cracker Jack box.

Let’s face it, Ardaman is a hapless half-bright who has cobbled out a career telling local elected rubes exactly what they want to hear.  I also suspect many well-connected attorneys in the local legal community recognize that his career is rapidly becoming a cautionary tale.

Because it is.

If there is any justice, when all is said and done, Kurt Ardaman will end up defending street perverts out of the trunk of his car in the parking lot of the Orange County Courthouse.

The “forfeiture hearing” had just the right amount of drama and humor to make it interesting.  Even Interim City Manager Ron McLemore got into the act when he was sworn and questioned by Johnson’s attorney Doug Daniels.

Under direct examination, McLemore went on one of those “I like to hear myself talk” pattering rants touting his 40 years in city management, and his belief that the city charter gave him super powers to ignore Florida law and close the hearing to the public over weird and never quite explained “security concerns.”

Ol’ Ron might have squeaked out a long career in city government – but in DeBary, he exposed himself as a five-alarm fuck-up when it comes to basic decision-making.

If I were Mr. McLemore, I’d hang-up this post-retirement dabbling and take up the rocking chair.

The giddy bastard has lost his chops and apparently nobody who cares about him has the common human decency to let him know.

Perhaps he’s still rattled by those sexual harassment allegations in Daytona.  Who knows?

And who cares.

He’s become a godforsaken embarrassment to the profession – and by meddling in bullshit small town politics, rather than staying above the fray and providing much needed leadership – he no longer has the moral authority to serve the citizens of DeBary.  And in his heart-of-hearts, he knows it.

Otherwise, the hearing was exactly what I expected it would be.

A formality.

An annoying prerequisite to bouncing Mayor Johnson out on his ass.

Look, I’m not going to dissect this turd – most of you reading this either attended the meeting or watched it on the WKMG live feed.

And I’m not here to defend Clint Johnson, either.

He remains his own worst enemy and I continue to question his mental stability and basic understanding of the limits of decorum – or the benefits of strong leadership and consensus building over self-indulgent grandstanding.

In my view, “tweeting” during your own removal hearing is just poor form.

But I feel it is important to point out that what happened last night – this horrifically expensive sham that was perpetrated against the citizens of DeBary – was an affront to everything our representative democracy stands for and all that it was founded upon.

At the end of the day, Clint Johnson – love him or hate him – is a duly elected representative of the people of the City of DeBary, and in my view, the will of the people is omnipotent.

Florida law has specific provisions for the formal removal of an elected municipal official.

The statute sets out an intentionally onerous and precise process that requires the collection of verifiable signatures on a specifically crafted petition, which both names the official and explains the reasons supporting a recall election.

It also provides for due process and judicial review; and the setting of a special election by the chief judge of the judicial circuit in which the recall petition is filed.

By state statute, an elected official may be removed from office for one of the following narrowly defined reasons:

Malfeasance

Misfeasance

Neglect of Duty

Drunkenness

Incompetence

Permanent inability to perform official duties

Conviction of a felony involving moral turpitude

The statute says nothing about railroading an elected official out-of-office because he hurt the feelings of a couple of mid-level, do-nothing bureaucrats – or pointed out the painful incompetence of his council.

Nowhere is it written – other than the flimsy provisions of the DeBary City Charter –  that a group of four thin-skinned council members can simply hold a “quasi-judicial” hearing on trumped-up “charges” and summarily ax a sitting Mayor simply because their sensitive egos were bruised or they were embarrassed by the exposure of a shady land deal.

This shit happens in communist Cuba – not DeBary.

And not in the United States of America.

Mark my words – this isn’t over.  Not by a long-shot.

What comes next is going to change the fundamental political landscape of the City of DeBary forever.  Eventually, once the lawsuits are settled and the criminal indictments are prosecuted – the taxpayer is going to be left with massive bills, legal fees, judgments and a shit reputation as an unstable backwater that will cripple any real progress in the community for years.

It’s unfortunate, but necessary, given what has been allowed to happen here.

I believe that our sacred war dead stand as silent sentinels to the highest ideals of our democracy, our freedom from oppression, and our fundamental rights afforded by the United States Constitution that they swore to preserve, protect and defend.

What must they be thinking?

Over-dramatic?  Hardly.

As Martin Luther King, Jr. so eloquently said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

What happened here is a travesty, and it will be talked about and analyzed far beyond the limits this tiny town for years to come.  In the end, it will serve as a shrine to what happens when vengeful, small-minded politicians are left to their own dreadful devices.

More later.

 

I have a suspicion that most people are only interested in government during an election year – or when the wheel comes off the cart.   Once the whole “thrill of victory, agony of defeat” of the election cycle wanes, government is about as interesting to most people as watching paint dry.

I also suspect that those who govern us – the politicians we elect every two or four years – know this, and use it to their full advantage.

Let’s face it, attending a local government meeting is like getting a root canal – most people only find themselves in the seat when it’s absolutely necessary to their immediate health and welfare.

In my experience, the gallery of a typical municipal meeting is populated by a handful of political gadflies, disinterested staff members, and one or two bored real estate attorneys catching up on paperwork while waiting to speak on behalf of a client.

Most agendas are pretty benign stuff to sit through after the uproar of the election season –  clamor that always seems to settle into more of the same despite the fiery campaign rhetoric promising “change.”

Things generally move too slow to generate much real interest.

I think Max Weber said it best in his 1919 lecture, Politik als Beruf, when he described politics as the “slow boring of hard boards.”

When done well, the process of municipal governance is symbiotic – functioning as a deliberative and collaborative arrangement that results in both organizational stability and quality services at affordable prices.  But like most interdependent systems, when things are mismanaged – or the written or unwritten rules are ignored – the entire structure of government comes apart like a bad flywheel.

That’s when things get interesting.

If there is a strong city manager in place, the ship can often be righted and the wild oscillations of discord stopped through effective leadership, the constructive input of concerned citizens, or even force of personality.

But in the absence of a steady hand, it can quickly become a rudderless vessel looking for a place to sink.

It also helps to have lucid, smart and functional adults occupying key roles – elected officials who have the instinctive ability to collectively put the needs of the community ahead of their own self-interests.

Unfortunately, the City of DeBary has neither.

As often happens in weakly led organizations, cliques and factions can also form in government.

When one member of the elected body sets themselves apart and openly criticizes their colleagues, or critiques the system, the others naturally feel threatened and unjustly ridiculed.  That’s human nature, and you don’t need a PhD in organizational management to understand the systemic problems it can create.

At issue for the citizens of DeBary is that their mayor, Clint Johnson – a self-described contrarian who bucks the system like a Brahma bull on acid – went completely off the reservation and began brazenly mocking and deriding his fellow council members, political detractors and city administrators – texting, tweeting and posting on social media like a deranged teenaged girl.

In the process, he pissed off a lot of people – for good and for ill.

Perhaps Mayor Johnson accomplished what he set out to do.

Sometimes shaking up the process from the inside out and stimulating good old fashioned upheaval in tired and ineffective systems can be a good thing.  Especially in situations where utter corruption and gross mismanagement are running rampant – and that was certainly the case in DeBary City Hall.

But when the ceremonial head of the municipality wages personal attacks on his colleagues and staffers – then stands behind the free speech provisions of the First Amendment – he must expect an equal and opposite reaction from his contemporaries on the dais, in the halls of power, and from the community at large.

Besides, the Mayor’s conduct was self-indulgent and beneath the dignity of his high office.  He has some weird situational ethics – but no one can argue that he’s doing the job as he sees it.  Right or wrong.

Clint Johnson should be ashamed of his strange conduct – and, truth be told – I think he is.

Unfortunately, the patently corrupt and insufferably incompetent former city manager, Dan Parrott, fell victim to the herd mentality that the remainder of the council used as a weird coping mechanism to protect themselves – and their egos – from the Gemini Springs media onslaught and Mayor Johnson’s incessant clowning.

In what I’m sure he thought was his last, best opportunity, Parrott trotted out the DeBary City Charter and began cobbling together a laundry list of “violations” – cut from whole cloth – which he would ultimately use to neuter Mayor Johnson and appease the bloodlust of those on the council that had been likewise humiliated.

These ridiculous “charges” are the most convoluted mishmash of overblown and nonsensical bullshit that I – or anyone in my sphere – have ever seen.  And when it comes to small town politics, I’ve seen some supernaturally strange things.  Trust me.

To make matters worse, the klutzy city attorney, Kurt Ardaman, put on his lawyerin’ cap (the one with the propeller on top) and rubber stamped Parrott’s silly allegations – and a few more they concocted before the hearing – like the good little sycophantically inept brownnoser he is.

But before Parrott could take his revenge, he was exposed as a congenitally greedy shit-toad and run out of town with a poke chockfull of taxpayer money under his arm.

Of course, Parrott’s departure didn’t discourage the council members from wielding his goofy indictment like a club.  For months they have used it to keep Clint Johnson treed until they can stage a kangaroo court – one where they serve as judge, jury and executioner – to publicly shame then jettison his ass.

All this despite the fact Mayor Johnson was duly elected by majority vote of the citizens of DeBary – just like they were.

And that’s what separates a representative democracy from a Wednesday night popularity contest at a sorority house.

Men and women have fought and died to protect and preserve our inalienable right to cast our sacred vote in the most effective democratic process in the history of the world.  In fact, our military is forward deployed in harm’s way right now doing just that.

And no one – not Dan Parrott, Kurt Ardaman, Ron McLemore or the feckless DeBary City Council – have the right to reverse the will of the people on dubious accusations incubated in the heat of political animus and grown from paranoid bickering.

Ignoring the will of the electorate is not being true to the vocation of politics.  That’s a lynch mob.

Another thing ol’ Max Weber said way back in 1919 that I believe still holds a kernel of wisdom for today’s elected officials:

“(Politics) requires passion as well as perspective. Certainly all historical experience confirms – that man would not have achieved the possible unless time and again he had reached out for the impossible. But to do that, a man must be a leader, and more than a leader, he must be a hero as well, in a very sober sense of the word. And even those who are neither leaders nor heroes must arm themselves with that resolve of heart which can brave even the failing of all hopes. This is necessary right now, otherwise we shall fail to attain that which it is possible to achieve today. Only he who is certain not to destroy himself in the process should hear the call of politics; he must endure even though he finds the world too stupid or too petty for that which he would offer. In the face of that he must have the resolve to say ‘and yet,’—for only then does he hear the ‘call’ of politics.”

 And yet:

There is still time for the DeBary City Council to act like statesmen, restore trust, and achieve great things for the constituents they serve.

Time to act in the truest and highest spirit of the public service and put stupid and petty personal conflicts and political quarrels aside – begin living up to their oath of office – and stop this harmful, vengeful and counter-productive removal effort before any more damage is done.

Time to do the right thing, for the right reason – even though the alternative would bring the fleeting pleasure of vanquishing a political foe.   

 For once – act with integrity.  Act with honor.  Restore civic pride and confidence in your long-suffering community.

If you can’t do that – if you feel compelled to pursue this farcical charade – at least have the common decency to conduct this bogus hearing in compliance with Florida’s open meetings law.

Allow the citizens – the voters – their right to stare straight into the faces of these elected and appointed public officials as they perpetrate this sham against the time-honored principles of democracy, good governance and the electorate of the City of DeBary.

UPDATE:  The Daytona Beach News-Journal and other media outlets are reporting that Interim City Manager Ron McLemore has reversed course and agreed that his original memorandum limiting access to Wednesday night’s “forfeiture hearing” was wrong-headed and contrary to Florida law.

I suspect that a telephone call from the Attorney General’s Office explaining the ramifications of closing the meeting on dubious “security concerns” was a bad idea.

Now, I wonder if the AG asked Kurt Ardaman – you know, DeBary’s city attorney who keeps approving these harebrained ideas – to bring his law degree to Tallahassee so they can look at it under a light?

Just curious.

 

 

Never underestimate the creepy factor in DeBary politics.  Never.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any weirder, the Kangaroo Kourt that is Mayor Clint Johnson’s pending “forfeiture hearing” will be locked down tighter than a meeting of the National Security Council.

According to a bizarre memo published by Interim City Manager Ron McLemore, the Mayor apparently made an off-hand comment on social media parroting the old protest chanty, “No Justice, No Peace.”

Arguably an appropriate statement given the twisted circumstances Mayor Johnson finds himself in.

So – rather than accept the frustrated rallying cry of a besieged elected official for what it is – McLemore (I’m certain at the strong “suggestion” of a few council members) took a circuitous route and somehow linked the comment to the Mayor’s call for citizen gun ownership and proficiency training in the immediate aftermath of the Pulse nightclub terrorist incident.

Anyone else hear a coo-coo clock sounding when they read Ron’s memo?  Because I did.

Is there a connection between Johnson’s goofy comments and a call for violence?

No, there isn’t.

It’s just more bullshit grandstanding and asinine posturing from a city commission with a siege mentality who are bent on railroading Mayor Johnson out of office on ridiculous “charges” concocted with malice aforethought by the disgraced former city manager – and forth stooge – Dan Parrott.

I have no doubt these accusations of charter violations – ostensibly based upon a few mindless tweets and Facebook posts – were promulgated in whole or in part by the feckless City Attorney, Kurt Ardaman – who is, in my view, so congenitally crooked he screws his pants on in the morning.

Remember?  Mr. Ardaman is the same DeBary legal leech who blatantly and willfully failed to disclose his personal business relationship with the now exposed quid pro quo bandit and chairman of the all-powerful St. John’s River Water Management District’s governing board, John Miklos.

Yep.  News Flash for anyone who has been living on the dark side of the moon these past few months:  The DeBary City Attorney, Kurt Ardaman, and John Miklos are business partners in a mysterious corporation known only as “Medjool Investments,” according to state records.

Now, you want something to investigate and prosecute?  The uber-peculiar Ardaman/Miklos connection is something the Florida Bar should really sink their teeth into.

I hate to modulate Mr. McLemore’s panic mongering here, but I would disagree that this harebrained quasi-judicial goat rope designed to oust the Mayor is “one of the most important events in the City’s history.”

Not even close.

I would think that state agents raiding City Hall with search warrant in hand is a pretty significant event.

(And you might remember that the only one not named in the warrant was Mayor Johnson. . .)

Further, I would argue that the criminal debacle that is the Gemini Springs Annex deal is – hands-down – the most influential happening in the short and strange history of the City of DeBary.

The depth and breadth of the open corruption and abject greed that has been so eloquently exposed by Daytona Beach News-Journal reporter Dinah Voyles Pulver is so historically and systemically wrong that it will stain the reputation of the City of DeBary for a generation.

And I don’t think Ms. Pulver has even scratched the surface yet.

The only thing this loopy “forfeiture” hearing will accomplish is to pave the road to a massive and crippling lawsuit by Mayor Johnson and his attorney, Doug Daniels.  Just watching Mr. Daniels sit at the preliminary hearings with his cheetah-like grin should tell you all you need to know about his ultimate intentions.

Unfortunately, all the long-suffering citizens can do at this point is buckle-up and hold on to what’s left of their wallet as these nutty elected officials drive this ugly hayride over that long, tall legal cliff – full speed ahead, baby.

Hell, the half-bright Councilwoman Lita Handy-Peters all but telegraphed her formal intent to jettison Johnson at her earliest opportunity during some semi-public meltdown in McLemore’s temporary office – which, apparently, was overheard by everyone in the building – including Mayor Johnson.

So much for considering the evidence, deliberating the facts in the context of the violation alleged, and forming an unbiased and informed decision.

You know, that whole ‘innocent until proven guilty’ thing we’re so proud of.

Don’t be ridiculous.  They want Johnson gone and if they have to shit on the will of the electorate, so be it.

We don’t need no stinkin’ facts.

Now, no one ever accused Ms. Handy-Peter’s of being the brightest bulb.  But, unfortunately, she’s part of what passes for stability and “leadership” in the City of DeBary.

Want to bet who’s subpoenaed as Plaintiff’s Witness #1 when Mr. Daniels unlimbers the free speech provisions of something called the Constitution of the United States and sues the city’s collective eyeballs out?

Trust me. Lawyer Daniels considers Wednesday’s hearing a mere annoyance on his way to excoriating these rubes when he gets them in a legitimate courtroom.

Regular readers of this forum know that I’ve been somewhat tough on the ill-fated Mayor Johnson.  I think his contribution to this ungodly mess is regrettable and counter to the important office he was elected to by the citizens of DeBary.

His hands are not entirely clean.

But if we start reversing elections based upon petty personality conflicts and political animus – I’m not sure we would have anyone currently serving in a public office from the U.S. Senate to the Aldermen of Hooterville.

If you want to hold a hearing challenging Clint Johnson’s sanity, you might get some traction.

I’ve always felt that his cheese has slid off his cracker – but he seems to have recognized the error of his ways and has attempted to extend an olive branch on several very public occasions.

Unfortunately, no one in a position to matter seemed interested in accepting the Mayor’s penitence and seemingly sincere promise to play pretty with his colleagues in the public’s interest.

The fact is the helplessly befuddled city council want Clint Johnson gone.  And on Wednesday evening, they will ride off with the Mayor’s political scalp in their saddlebag.

I could be wrong, but I’m not.

Once the deed is done, the remaining council members will slap each other’s back, congratulate their own performance, and wallow in unbridled hubris and self-importance.  Then, they will talk enthusiastically about “moving forward” and “putting things behind us” and the glorious progress that awaits the denizens of Oz now that the wicked witch is gone.

They will almost believe their own spin, too.

But at night, when they are alone with their thoughts, they will be gripped with the crippling fear of what awaits when Mr. Daniels gets them in front of an actual judge.  That day of reckoning when Ardaman will be made to look like Hank the Talking Mule as he yammers away in a desperate attempt to explain his situational ethics and gross malfeasance to the court.

When the judge tally’s things up, Doug Daniels and his client are going to walk away with a whole bunch of taxpayer money in his elegant leather briefcase.

And there is not a damn thing the good citizens of DeBary can do about it.  The lot has been cast.

For the record: Mr. McLemore – enjoy your retirement.  I suspect this latest fiasco – evidenced by your silly memorandum citing overblown “security concerns” – is going to haunt your fledgling “consulting” career like a Golem.

You screwed up when you jumped in the fray and tried to pick this fetid turd up by the clean end, eh?

It appears to my jaundiced eye that Mr. McLemore let the Mayor’s prickling comments questioning his leadership get under his skin – and he obviously acquiesced to a piss-poor, but sensational, decision by elected officials who are so desperate for leadership that they are pissing themselves like a nervous cur.

In my view, McLemore failed this council when they needed his guidance most, and in his business, that’s inexcusable.

No, this won’t bode well for Mr. McLemore’s resume – or ultimately for the City of DeBary.

Hell, maybe Ron can use it as one of those homespun yarns at his next job interview. . .

Regardless – Thanks for nothing.

Have a great weekend, kids.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How do you define “Ethics”?

How do you determine the morally correct path at the intersection of honor and dishonesty?

Now, I’m not asking for a philosophical debate here, but I think it’s essential to periodically reset our moral compass, and to give serious thought to the personal, situational and organizational principles that are important to us.

You know, the process for making decisions about what’s right and what’s wrong.

Each of us are faced with these choices every day.  From little white lies to protect someone’s feelings to padding an expense account; or larger, more enduring personal and professional decisions that require true moral courage, like reporting a colleague’s misdeeds or our fidelity to a relationship or cause.

I’m probably the biggest scumbag you know.  By any measure, just a weak-minded, self-absorbed misanthrope and egotistical asshole.  Not something I’m proud of.

But I have my principles – a strong sense of right and wrong – and my hypocrisy has tight boundaries.

At least I’m willing to admit it.

Typically, when faced with a moral conundrum I tend to use a duty-based framework to find the right answer:

“What are my obligations in this situation, and what are the things I should never do?”

“Are my actions simply self-serving and intended, consciously or subconsciously, to avoid a moral duty or ethical obligation?”

Essentially, it boils down to a simple question:  Am I doing the right thing, for the right reasons?

Most of the time this analytical decision-making process works for me.  But sometimes I still fail to live up to my personal expectations.

What pisses me off is when our elected and appointed officials, and the power brokers who have bought and paid for them, conduct themselves in a manner that is so outside the lines of ethical conduct and common human decency that it calls the very moral fabric of an entire community into question.

Then just walk away from it.

Obviously, I’m referencing the City of Daytona Beach – and to a larger degree, the County of Volusia – and their respective failed interventions into our growing homeless problem.

I’ve written about this before.  Ad nauseum, in fact.

But it bears repeating.

This Circle of Doom began last winter when a group of street people took up residence at the county administration building in downtown Daytona Beach.  The occupation at 250 North Beach Street began when the city – in a poorly orchestrated control strategy – abruptly closed restroom facilities and removed bench seats from Manatee Island Park.

This began a no-win standoff between the homeless, their so-called “advocates,” and local/county government that played out very publicly in the media and brought hell and havoc to local small businesses who have struggled for years with the city’s half-assed policies and failed strategies for a sustainable “downtown.”

Ultimately, after irresponsible and counter-productive threats, bullying and ultimatums from the county council, Daytona Beach found a short-term solution in the Salvation Army.

This quick fix took the unwashed hoard off of Beach Street – and the front page – to the relative obscurity of an improvised shelter on nearby Ballough Road.

And just in time for Special Events Season here on the Fun Coast!

It also allowed our so-called “leaders” at the County of Volusia to simply wash their hands of the situation, abdicate their sworn responsibility, make ridiculous suggestions, and snicker as city officials flailed and skidded like pigs on sheet-ice as they legitimately struggled for a more permanent solution.

Ultimately, all good things come to an end.

When the Salvation Army was no longer an option, Daytona Beach opted for a self-styled “housing first” strategy that put some 70 homeless people in city-subsidized motel rooms on Ridgewood Avenue.  The city accepted this responsibility knowing that it would result in a weekly nut estimated between $6,000 and $16,000.

At the time, I opined that the warehousing of indigents – people who are either unwilling or incapable of contributing to their own needs – in the absence of social, medical, psychological and nutritional support is probably counter-productive.

In my view, this strategy simply exacerbates the long-term problem – while sustaining and promoting the corrosive blight inherent to Ridgewood Avenue’s fleabag motels, while doing nothing to change the core contributing factors.

But once you take on the role of caregiver – responsible for the well-being and interests of a dependent – you can’t simply wash your hands and walk away.

It doesn’t work that way.

When government insinuates itself and openly accepts responsibility for correcting entrenched social problems, we expect it to live up to its obligations.

(Note to Volusia County – doing nothing to avoid political exposure or financial responsibility is not an option either.  The sin of omission is just as wrong as abandoning a duty once accepted.)

I still think the best analogy here is the person who goes to the Halifax Humane Society and adopts a puppy – a vulnerable being whose life now relies on that individual for its shelter, nourishment and protection.

When you accept this important and honorable responsibility – you agree to live up to the moral imperative that you simply cannot abandon your defenseless pup in the elements to fend for itself simply because it is no longer financially, socially or politically convenient.

I think most would agree that abdication of one’s responsibility in that situation would be ethically and morally wrong.

I think to do such a despicable thing to a defenseless domesticated animal would mark that person as a congenitally cruel and merciless asshole, right?

Right.

I’m not a very religious guy, but something tells me we probably shouldn’t treat helpless human beings that way either.

Perhaps I’m mistaken.

Late last week, after just eleven-days in the relative security of a city-subsidized motel room, the remaining 57 homeless people were summarily evicted by their guardian – the City of Daytona Beach.

Seventeen people were sent to a housing facility on Kingston Avenue in the blight infested no-man’s-land near Ridgewood Avenue, where zombie-like creatures roam the streets and congregate, urinate, defecate, smoke dope, drink cheap beer and loiter assiduously near parasitic convenience stores and flophouses.

Five others were sent to a church in Ormond Beach, while four United States military veterans – people who took up arms and defended our way of life – were placed in the care of the Salvation Army.

The dregs – the flotsam and jetsam – were disposed of at something called a “safe zone” near Clyde Morris and the Bellevue Extension.

Turns out, the safe zone (available evenings only) is a vacant, city-owned lot with an open spigot for drinkable water and portable toilets for personal necessities.  Concerned residents who took the time to investigate found broken glass and other debris littering the lot, making the area anything but “safe” for human habitation.

To add insult to injury, the city has suggested it will look for additional “safe zone” sites around the city and “rotate” the location from time-to-time.

So don’t bother to get comfortable, folks.  I wouldn’t erect any semi-permanent quarters.

To the contrary.

When you become a living eyesore and an inconvenience for the “Big Doing’s” over at Embry-Riddle’s brand new “Micaplex,” your benevolent caretakers at the city will just up and move your ass to another “safe zone” like a human shell game.

My God.  What are we becoming?

I find it reprehensible that in 2016 a modern government entity would simply dump people they previously agreed to house in an overgrown vacant lot without food or shelter and consider it acceptable and humane public policy.

I also find it shameful that in the aftermath of a failed strategy, officials who are accepting public funds for public service would simply give up with the flippant statement, “The city needs to get out of the homeless business directly.  It needs to be done by nonprofits.”

Look, I’m no humanitarian – and I don’t have a solution.

But I recognize basic callousness and governmental incompetence when I see it, and it is time for our elected and appointed officials to treat this problem as a priority, rather than a political can kicking contest.

Trust me – I’m not shilling for the self-described “homeless advocates” either.

Most of these pseudo-experts and “faith-based do-gooders” of dubious ordination siphon their living by convincing government agencies to throw more money at the enigma of homelessness; and right now these opportunists are in a feeding frenzy as municipal budgets are finalized.

Somehow, these shameless grifters can still look at themselves in the mirror.

The one bright spot is the fact that the excuses, infighting and flagrant abdication of responsibly have exposed our elected and appointed officials – and a few parasitic “advocates” – for what they truly are, and aren’t.

The question is, how long will we accept this train wreck as effective representation?

UPDATE:  The Daytona Beach News-Journal is reporting that Volusia County Councilman Josh Wagner has proposed gifting Halifax Urban Ministries $1.5 million in public funds to operate a come-as-you-are homeless shelter at an as-yet-to-be-determined location.

Of course, County Manager Jim Dinneen thinks its a great idea.

The cash comes with a mandate to get the county off the hook on the issue of homelessness by requiring that HUM find alternative sources to make up any deficit in operating costs.

By the way, HUM’s Executive Director Mark Gaellis was caught flatfooted.

Seems he learned HUM was being considered for the tax dollars from a reporter. . .

No plan.  No bids.  No proposals.

Apparently, we’re just going to hand it to them, making a grand total of $5 million in cash and assets that HUM has received from Volusia County since Hope Place was approved.

Interesting process.

Is it who you know?  Just curious.

 

    

 

 

I want to tell everyone who takes a few minutes out of their busy day to read these “missives from the dark side” just how much I appreciate your time.

As of this posting our little blog has received over 25,000 views since January!

Wow.  Who would have thought?

Much of what I write about is based upon our universal concerns – issues that are near and dear to our collective hearts here in Volusia County.  Whether you agree with my point-of-view or not, I hope you find something thought provoking in these ramblings when you visit.

Earlier this week I received some truly great advice from a few friends. These are people I respect – and when they tell me something, I listen.

One explained that my essays are too long.  He’s right.

I think it’s a residual style from having written police reports for the past three decades.

In law enforcement we have a saying, “If it’s not on paper, it didn’t happen.”  So, I tend to take a quip and transform it into a novella.  I promised to do better, but given my proven lack of self-control, I’m not holding out much hope.

Another friend echoed the thoughts of several others who have told me, “You know these people you write about hate you, right?”

I could care less.  I spent my life in a field where people actually tried to kill me.

So, if the privileged few who have run Volusia County like a private fiefdom get their pampered feelings bruised by one man’s opinion – well, that’s just hard cheese.

In order to read my twaddle one must look for it – it’s not delivered to everyone’s doorstep each morning.  And the beauty is – like a radio or television – if someone doesn’t like the content, they can just turn it off.

No need to get your knickers in a twist, really.

Frankly, I hope those who are in a position to influence change despise me so much that their burning hatred wakes them to the realization that things must change – that the political process in Volusia County can and should be more than using big money to manipulate a patently corrupt system.

I’d like to think we’re better than that.

The recurring kernel of truth I hope readers discern in my epistles is our need for strong leadership.

Will we get what we deserve?  Only this election will tell.

It’s clear to me that in Volusia County the current administration is either unwilling or incapable of recognizing that they have lost the public’s trust.  They no longer have the consent of the governed – and the cheap methods they employ to convince and control us are tired and worn.

But that doesn’t stop County Manager Jim Dinneen from trotting them out time and again; invariably when he needs more of our money.

For instance, last week we heard more hand-wringing out of Deland as our elected and appointed officials once again sounded the Klaxon on the emergency du jour.  Always a hyper-perilous, super-expensive conundrum that can only be resolved with an infusion of more tax dollars.

Once again Mr. Dinneen is prematurely rolling out the transportation infrastructure sales tax initiative – even after city officials effectively (and intelligently) tabled the matter until after the election season.

Like most requests from the cities, I guess Jim used the memo as toilet paper.

In March, area city managers suggested that further talks on the tax scheme, which would divide transportation infrastructure funds between the cities and the county, be put on hold to provide time for stakeholders to agree on a list of priorities.

You know, so citizens will know exactly what the money – estimated at $60.5 million – will be used for.

What a novel idea.

Last week the Daytona Beach News-Journal ran a piece entitled, “Pothole to Growth?  Shortage in road funds could hurt Volusia’s economic development.”  In the article, Dinneen explains the situation with his typical panic and hysterics:

“If Trader Joe’s wanted to come today, they wouldn’t be here.  Tanger probably wouldn’t have come. Economic development would not be here. Period.”

Wow.  “Period.”  Scary stuff.

Despite Jim’s fear mongering, I’m still not convinced.

I believe these companies would have located here anyway.  The fact we gave these projects millions of dollars in public funds, subsidies and infrastructure improvements was simply icing on the corporate cake.

And Mr. Dinneen’s theoretical bullshit is just a smokescreen.

Seemingly oblivious to the fact that he has lost basic credibility with anyone other than his power broker puppeteers, Jim Dinneen once again stages his tired Kabuki – always skillfully performed with just the right amount of drama and apocalyptic urgency to wring additional money from an already tax weary constituency.

It seems that deliberately arousing fear and raising false alarm has become the last arrow in Jim’s quiver.

One would think that for $350,000 in annual salary and benefits Volusia County residents might expect something more in return.

I think people are beginning to understand that a bureaucracy – especially one as bloated and festering as Volusia County’s – requires tax dollars like a leech needs the blood of its host.  It’s very life depends upon it.

Let’s face it.  The county budget has swelled to approximately $850 million.  That’s serious money in a place where the center of the county is pine scrub and most of the municipalities provide their own core services.

In my view, if you can’t do it for $850 big ones – you can’t do it.

It is increasingly clear to everyone except our elected and appointed representatives that they no longer have our support and acquiescence.

We simply don’t trust them anymore.

Public confidence in county government has been slowly eroded by the steady flow of missteps, bullying, deceit and political slight-of-hand that invariably benefits a privileged few while always laying the financial burden squarely on the backs of the taxpayer.

Most telling is the fact that the very thought of reducing exorbitant executive salaries and limiting corporate giveaways in light of budget shortfalls is anathema to this administration.

That tells you all you really need to know about Mr. Dinneen’s loyalties and skills.

If our elected officials still believe the overburdened tax payer is going to blindly approve $60.5 million in additional sales tax, only to have it squandered and lavished on their corporate overseers – or pissed away by gross mismanagement – then they are delusional.

If someone hates me for pointing out that fact – good.