To those who think they hold the cards

I send out my kind regards,

To those who love and those who care,

I’ll meet you down the road somewhere

The SteelDrivers – Heaven Sent

As I’ve told you before, I’m not an educated man.

But I am getting older – turned 56 last weekend – and with age comes wisdom, I suppose.

When you’ve got more years over the transom than off the bow, you tend to think about things differently, at least I do, and more often than not, I have a different viewpoint on issues than when I was a younger man.

It’s all perspective.

For instance, I have always appeared older than my age.  It’s the gray hair, wrinkles, and bloat I think.  When people are surprised, I just tell them, “It not the years, it’s the miles. . .”

I’m what doctor’s call a “high miler.”

While my body lacks the strength and flexibility I once had, my mind is still relatively limber and I’ve gained a little insight from living out here on the ragged fringe all these years.

Most of what I know was learned the hard way – through trial and error – and experiential learning is the most expensive education you can receive.

It’s like touching a hot stove over-and-over again – or voting for perennial politicians. Eventually, pain receptors teach your brain the relationship and you suddenly realize, “Damn, that hurts.  I don’t think I want to do that anymore.”

A sudden recognition of cause and effect.  Inexorable proof that life really is a gradual release from ignorance.

As I begin another trip around the sun, I find that I’m settling into the “crusty retired guy” phase of life quite nicely.

In that role I have a lot more time to spend with the morning newspaper.  In fact, I dissect it, section-by-section, always in the same uniformed manner, until I have explored and contemplated the news of the day and developed distinct opinions on exposés and issues from the editorial page to the funnies.

I have some fun with it too.

In my hometown paper – the Daytona Beach News-Journal – they run an on-going section on the front page of the online edition called simply, “Mugshots.”  It’s a digital “Rogue’s Gallery” that constantly up-dates with booking photographs of weary looking friends and neighbors who are visiting the County Jail.

Since I have the time, most mornings I get a second cup of joe and play a little game with myself called, “Guess the Charge.”

It’s simple, really – feel free to play along.

Just pick a mugshot and try to guess what the miscreant was charged with.  Then click your mouse and the person’s arrest record is displayed.

I’m getting pretty darn good at it, too.

For instance, I can tell the difference between a DUI and a Retail Theft just by the amount of mascara draining down the person’s face – male or female.  And a young lady with a black eye and a satisfied smile?  Gotta be an aggravated battery.

You just know she cut some abusive dirt bag in some seedy trailer park near Mondex.

Some are easier than others.

I’ve noticed that the mugshot section is increasingly populated by people with tattoo’s on their face and neck.  I always guess a crime of impulsivity or opportunity when considering these guys.

I mean – unless you’re Mike Tyson or a Maori warrior – I don’t think you actually chew over getting a facial tattoo.  That’s more something you wake-up from a three-day bender with and wonder, “What the hell?”

Rarely does one say, “Honey, I’m thinking about getting the word ‘Psycho’ over my right eyebrow but I’m torn between the proper font.  The guys at the firm are no help.  Edwardian Script or a simple Helvetica?”

There just seems to be a direct correlation between face ink and your odds of ending up as a contestant on Guess the Charge.  Profiling?  Perhaps.

At the end of the day – it all boils down to poor decision making.

I’ve yet to see an attorney or a practicing physician with “By Whatever Means Necessary” printed in bold black ink on their neck.

Mine don’t, anyway.

As a result, when I cross one of these “facial art” types on the street – I tend to give them a wide berth.  It’s a safe bet they have impulse control issues – and I have enough friends, so. . .

Poor decisions.  Go figure.

Speaking of impulse control, those drunken sailors over at the Volusia County Council seem to have found yet another pet project.

Yep, another big money give-away from our seemingly bottomless corporate welfare fund.

Is there any “successful” large-scale corporate entity in Volusia County that can stand on its own two feet without access to the public trough?

I mean, it almost seems like government handouts and tax incentives have become part of the modern corporate funding scheme of any multi-million-dollar company.

You want to expand, renovate or develop?  Go ask government for some free tax dollars under the guise that it’s economic development – an “investment in the future.”

That gets them every time.

As everyone knows, Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University is the international leader in aerospace education and research, and we’re lucky to have them in our backyard.  It’s a private university – governed by a Board of Trustees that just happens to be chaired by our own mega-millionaire, uber-powerbroker, incredibly wealthy developer and ERAU alumnus Mortenza “Mori” Hosseini.

You know, the same Mori Hosseini that shovels money into the campaign accounts of hand-selected candidates for local elective office like coal into a runaway locomotive.

Under Mori’s leadership – which is being openly (and courageously) challenged by nearly every former student government president and graduate for the past 20-years – the university has approached Volusia County with a request for package which includes $1.5 million in public funds, the opportunity to purchase county-owned land near the campus at half-price, and other financial incentives, to include reduced lease rates and consideration on future “grants.”

Naturally, our elected “representatives” on the county council are fawning all over it.

Whenever Mr. Hosseini or another member of the local donor class ask for something, certain council members begin instinctively and reverentially prostrating themselves before the High Panjandrums and start coughing up cash like a dyspeptic dog.

You can tell the deal is sealed when council members start using terms like “transformative” and “visionary” to describe the project.

Embarrassing, really.

“We’re tired of minimum wage jobs in Volusia County!”  Is the rallying cry – jobs, always jobs.

In recent years, the Volusia County Council has literally gifted millions in tax breaks, incentives, subsidies, infrastructure, and outright cash giveaways to privileged and profitable corporate entities.  Now, we’ve been assured by ERAU officials that this investment will result in a $1.8 billion “value” in economic development opportunities, to include – you guessed it –  jobs.

Want to place a bet on how much of that “value” you and I actually see?

According to Mr. Hossieni, ERAU is “going to the next level.”

Well, go.

Just don’t ask the already overburdened Volusia County taxpayer to fund your trip.

I have no doubt Mori could fund the requested $1.5 million from the loose change in his couch cushions.  Let’s face it, to his credit, Mr. Hossieni has been incredibly successful – and he’s going to put his name on it anyway.

I guess my question is: Why does the County of Volusia have to act as a high risk hedge fund?

What happened to the days when private colleges and universities – or large corporations, for that matter – paid their own way, raising funds from alumni, endowments and other private sources to finance campus expansions and development?

Embry-Riddle is actively building a $32 million research park called “The John Mica Engineering and Aerospace Innovation Complex” which hopes to bring together “venture capitalists, scientists, students, faculty and engineers” for research and development projects.

Who knew the venture capitalists would be you and I?

When (not “if”) the funding request is approved by the Volusia County Council the money will move around like some weird Three-Card Monte hustle.

The $1.5 million will come out of the tentative $4 million economic development budget, while the $400,000 from the discount land sale will go back in, and approximately $18 million of the $32 million used to build the “Micaplex” originates from state funds, and keep your eye on the money card, folks, just follow the Queen of Hearts and you win big. . .

And if Mr. Mica’s name is on the building, you can bet your bippy there are some massive federal dollars in the mix as well.

According to the News-Journal’s report, “The $1.5 million ERAU is seeking from the county would be used to assist companies using the research park who need additional startup funds. Businesses would be required to stay and grow in Volusia County.”

No word yet on what happens when the companies we finance go tits up. . .

Well, at least we can take comfort in knowing that any company receiving subsidies will be required to “stay and grow” in Volusia County.  You know, the place where any business other than a Bubba’s Bodacious Bar-B-Que franchise has about a six-month life expectancy. . .

But, hey, Mori says it’s another “crown jewel” for the community – and that’s all ye know or all ye need to know.

According to Councilwoman Joyce Cusack, “This is a part of a journey we must take to ensure our children’s dreams become a reality.”

Meanwhile, back at Barker’s Sideshow of Ugly Realities, we can no longer afford to repair our roads or rebuild crumbling infrastructure, our drinking water supply is stressed to the max, our schools are struggling, we’re charging people to access the beach, stealing ECHO funds for parking lots, have yet to develop a comprehensive plan to assist our homeless population and the council just voted to approve – unanimously and without discussion – a 1.8% tax increase on a county budget that has swelled to almost $850 million dollars.

Apparently we can’t afford core government services, but we can finance every “visionary” plan that the donor class believes would be “transformative.”

“Mark, you’re just a curmudgeonly asshole.”

“Clearly you’re not helping to make our children’s dreams a reality!  You’re just being the turd in Mr. Hossieni’s very expensive crystal punch bowl.  Why are you shitting on our CHILDREN’S DREAMS!?” 

To the contrary.

What I’m saying is that if we keep spending at current rates, our “children’s dreams” are going to be limited to what the over-taxed and underpaid little urchins can scrounge while they struggle to pay for the sins of their parents.

How far do you think a local plumber, electrician, auto mechanic, lawn service or other small business owner would get if he or she had the chutzpah to stand in front of the county council and asked for public funds to expand their service area, hire an employee or two, abate their taxes or renovate their facilities?

They would be booted out of the Thomas C. Kelly Administration Building on their ass to the hoots, hollers and laughter of the elected and appointed officials inside.

Frankly, it’s time the County of Volusia and the City of Daytona Beach got out of the speculative finance game and back to the business of providing their constituents with some competent core services at a price we can afford.

What a novel idea?

I don’t know about you, but I’m sick and tired of Forbes-listed billionaires begging for additional tax breaks, incentives and corporate handouts while the City of Daytona Beach is actively preparing to throw homeless people out of government subsidized motel rooms.

Just rubs me wrong.

You may remember that I’m the obstructionist shithead who thought warehousing the homeless using tax dollars might be bad public policy in the long-term.  But when you’ve committed yourself to helping and have already placed people in housing you follow through, dammit.

Why?  Because it’s the moral and ethical thing to do.  That’s why.

You don’t go to the Humane Society and agree to shelter a dog, then throw him out on the street without cover or food when it becomes financially inconvenient.

You shouldn’t do that with people either.

I’m sick and tired of hearing how spending more of our tax dollars on the latest shiny whim of the rich and powerful is going to solve our myriad social and economic issues.

Bullshit.  The examples are long and distinguished.

According to a 2013 piece in the News-Journal, from the mid-1980s through the early 2000s, “the city and county dished out more than $35 million in community redevelopment money — $50 million-plus in inflation-adjusted dollars — to help build and expand what is now the Hilton Daytona Beach Oceanfront Resort and the Ocean Walk retail, time-share and condo-hotel complex.”

Remember how we were force fed the same “less blight, more jobs” line when it came time to throw money – over $30 million dollars of it, as I recall – for development of the “E Zone”?

It was the same argument they used when our local “movers and shakers” stood in front of their hired handmaidens on the county council and “encouraged” economic incentives, subsidies, and more beach driving closures for the Westin and Hard Rock projects.

You remember – those high-end luxury motels that were billed as the panacea for everything that ails us here on the “Fun Coast”?

Well, I do.

(Quick question: Is the “Westin” being renovated by two guys on the weekends?)

Look, I’m sorry to be the fly in the ointment – but I just never see the outstanding return on investment that our High Potentates of Progress always promise.

I could be wrong.

Please don’t take my word for it.

Take a drive around the ‘World’s Most Famous Beach.”

Enjoy a quick tour of East International Speedway Boulevard, Main Street, or the immediate area surrounding the Boardwalk.  Stroll the neighborhoods in Mid-Town, and count the empty strip centers and vacant lots on the beachside, take in a show at the Ocean Center – wait, never mind that one (is the place still open?  I haven’t been to a concert there since Milli Vanilli broke up. . .)

My point is, where is the blight reduction and gentrification they promised?

Where are the jobs they promised our kids?

Hell, where are the “high paying” jobs they promised us?

Don’t get me wrong, there are bright spots – mostly private property owners that have had enough and invested their own money and sweat equity into cleaning up older homes and long neglected properties – but for the most part, nothing has changed.

Now, the cycle is beginning again.  In my view, good money after bad.

Word to the wise – If you do go to the beachside to have a look – do yourself a favor:  Don’t go after dark.

And don’t forget to vote.

Have a great weekend, kids!

 

The Daytona Beach News-Journal’s Dinah Voyles Pulver has hit it out of the park yet again.

We’re lucky to have her reporting the news.

If you haven’t been following the brewing environmental mess surrounding a proposed wetlands mitigation bank in the Mosquito Lagoon near New Smyrna Beach, you need look no further than Dinah’s work in her recent piece, “Volusia County seeks answers on mitigation bank proposal.”

The “heal here, hurt there” process by which developers can purchase credits from “mitigation banks” to build on sensitive lands elsewhere is, in my view, a typical accommodation for real estate developers by an administration that uses environmental regulations for toilet paper.

In this case, if the mitigation bank is approved, former Major League Baseball player and manager Davey Johnson – who decades ago purchased the land in southeast Volusia – would be granted credits from regulatory agencies to include the St. John’s River Water Management District and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.

These credits are awarded based upon the number of acres of wetlands that are restored and held in a “bank” – then sold to developers and used to exploit sensitive lands in lucrative deals elsewhere.

According to the News-Journal, the formula is one credit for every acre of wetlands impacted.

Credits in Central Florida are currently selling for more than $135,000.

Who said it isn’t profitable to own swampland in Florida?

Who cares, you say?  “That environmental impact stuff is dry as a popcorn fart, Mark.  Keep it interesting, dude!”

Hold your horses, dammit.  We’re fixing to take a canoe trip to the dark side.

Here’s where it gets interesting.  If not downright disturbing.

You remember our old friend John Miklos?

The guy the City of DeBary hired to ramrod their massive transit oriented development on sensitive wetlands and conservation areas that make up the Gemini Springs Annex?

The guy who just happens to be Governor Rick Scott’s hand-picked chairman of the powerful St. John’s River Water Management District’s governing board?

The guy who owns Bio-Tech Consulting, Inc. – in my view, a continuing criminal enterprise whose sole purpose is to represent private clients before the very same environmental regulatory agency that he oversees?

It seems Mr. Johnson hired Mr. Miklos to represent his interests in the plan to turn some 315-acres near Webster Creek into a wetlands mitigation bank.

There’s one small problem – Johnson may not have private property rights to the submerged lands.

It seems the property in question may fall within the boundaries of the Mosquito Lagoon Aquatic Preserve –  a 4,700-acre highly sensitive ecosystem consisting of tidal marsh, swampland and submerged lands that are home to 12 federally endangered species, as well as extensive shellfish and seagrass beds.

According to the County of Volusia, at least some of the land Johnson claims is his was mapped and declared “sovereign submerged lands” by the State of Florida in the 1970’s.

From a previous brouhaha that I was professionally mixed up in involving a locally famous beached houseboat that washed up on the banks of the Halifax river during a storm – I specifically recall that Sovereign Submerged Lands are owned by the state and administered by a Board of Trustees consisting of the governor and cabinet.

It’s not a new concept either.

Way back in 1845, by Act of Congress, Florida was (perhaps, in retrospect, unwisely) admitted to the United States.  Along with statehood, Florida also acquired title to, “all land lying under navigable waters within the state, up to the ordinary high water line.”

 While I’m convinced the terms “navigable” and “ordinary high water line” were thrown in just to give future attorney’s work, in short, these state-owned lands include (but, of course, are not limited to) certain “tidal lands, islands, sandbars, shallow banks, and lands waterward of the ordinary or mean high water line, beneath navigable fresh water or beneath tidally influenced waters.”

 Sounds a lot like the Webster Creek area of the Mosquito Lagoon, huh?

Well, as John Miklos might be fond of saying, “There’s more than one way to skin a cat – or exploit sensitive wetlands for that matter. . .”

In fact, Long John Miklos personally emailed a program manager for state lands at the Department of Environmental Protection who quickly determined that the lands Johnson claims ownership of are not, in fact, sovereign submerged lands.

Fortunately, that decision is now under review.  I guess the hypocrisy of DEP and the SRWMD only goes so far.

Now, the County of Volusia – and a whole passel of pissed off residents – have a big problem with the way this entire sordid affair is going down.

So do I.

In fact, Johnson has all but threatened that if the mitigation bank is not approved, he has the right to build condominiums, residential housing or a marina on the sensitive property.  According to the News-Journal, Johnson has no current plans to develop the lands, stating, “I do have the option, I could develop it,” he said. “I could put houses on 25 acres. But I wouldn’t do that, that’s not what’s right for it.”

Somehow, I’m not convinced – and neither is the county.

On Thursday, the Volusia County Council authorized two letters from the county attorney expressing their “questions and concerns” regarding the project – one to the Governor and Cabinet – the other to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and Ann Shortelle, Miklos’ hand-selected executive director of the St. John’s River Water Management District.

Interestingly, the county attorney also noted that prospectuses on the mitigation bank project sent to the Corps of Engineers and the water district by Johnson and Miklos don’t match.

Two different documents.

Weird?  Perhaps.

But not when Miklos in involved – it’s just a little confusion, I’m sure. . .

It seems the cornerstone of Bio-Tech Consulting is their ability to create “confusion” on behalf of clients when under review by regulators.  I seem to recall that Bio-Tech once bulldozed a Bald Eagles nest on a land clearing project near Vero Beach under the guise they mistook it for an osprey.

Not much stands in ol’ John’s way when he sets his mind to accommodating developers.

Another serious issue at play is the rather rudimentary method Johnson and Bio-Tech want to employ to fill in old mosquito control ditches on the property – something called “hydro-blasting.”

Essentially, they want to use high-pressure water hoses to blast piles of spoil dirt into the canals.

According to Miklos – the indiscriminate blasting of silt and dirt contaminated with pesticides, herbicides, and God knows what else, in and around sensitive estuaries, mangroves, oyster reefs, and seagrass beds is “environmentally sound.”

Whatever.

Some 500 Volusia County residents have signed a petition on change.org requesting that the Corps of Engineers hold public hearings on the matter.

According to the News-Journal, the Corps has yet to decide if they will permit a public hearing or not – although they have extended the period during which you can write in to express your opinion on the project.

Folks, here’s a quick heads-up:  Government does not need or want your input.  Just pay the bills and shut the fuck up.  Got it?

How long, Oh Lord, are the good people of Florida going to be saddled with this painfully and openly corrupt sneak thief John Miklos?

How long will he be permitted to play both sides of the fence for his personal enrichment?

It’s a valid question.

In April, I sent a complaint to the U.S. Department of Justice, Middle District of Florida, asking, in effect, if Floridians still have the right to expect honest and ethical representation by appointed representatives to state regulatory boards?

I specifically cited the on-going quid pro quo corruption in DeBary as evidence of an open and pervasive pattern of dishonesty by Chairman Miklos and others.  In fact, I have always felt that the U.S. Attorney would need to present little more than Dinah Pulver’s excellent articles to a federal grand jury to all but ensure an indictment of Miklos and most of the DeBary City Council and staff.

I understand that several environmental groups from around the state filed similar complaints.

Let’s hope these widespread concerns spark some interest.

Because I think hope is all we have left.

In my view, this level of open and abject corruption has a cancerous effect on the public’s confidence and trust in the system.  Even at a casual glance, most smart people get the unmistakable impression that the playing field is anything but level – in fact, it’s so cockeyed that it will take years to fix – if ever.

In a state where you can actually hire the chairman of the regulatory agency to lobby on your behalf before that same regulatory agency – well, anything is possible.

How long before someone in an elected or appointed position of responsibility says “enough is enough.”

If you think Governor Scott gives two-shits your fooling yourself.  He’s the poster boy for the problem – a reptilian asshole with no qualms about selling you out to anyone who extends a buck in his direction.

The Governor will couch it as “economic development” – but its common thievery, and Scott damn well knows it.

He just doesn’t care – so long as he and his cronies can line their pockets and to hell with the long-term consequences.

Look no further than the devilish mess in South Florida – where filthy Lake Okeechobee run-off from huge sugar cane operations has turned estuaries of the St. Lucie and Indian rivers into a toxic guacamole of algae blooms.

(All while Governor Scott and Agriculture Secretary Adam Putnam indulged themselves at a private Texas hunting resort owned lock, stock and barrel by U.S. Sugar – who, by the way, also paid for their trip.)

Did I mention that the sugar industry has steered $57.8 million in direct and “in-kind” contributions to state and local politicians in Florida between 1994 and 2016?

Because they have.

Rick Scott’s political committee received $1 million in sugar contributions just last year.

Sickening.

Rather than clean up this growing mess the right way, if Governor Scott has his way, soon the deadly run-off will be forced south toward Florida Bay – and the Florida Keys.

(By the way, this release will be accomplished by the same U.S. Army Corps of Engineers that are still debating on whether or not to give you a public hearing on the Johnson/Miklos mitigation bank.)

My God, these greedy bastards know no shame.

And what’s more disturbing – no regulatory or law enforcement agency in a position to respond on the public’s behalf seems to give a damn.

Maybe when this entire godforsaken state becomes an uninhabitable shithole – completely devoid of potable water, greenspace or wildlife; when all the natural resources are exploited, hauled off and sold, and every last dime has been looted – someone will wake up.

But I doubt it.

In Florida, we live in an open kleptocracy where anything goes.

Greed-hogs like John Miklos blatantly steal from the public they are sworn to serve, while those in a position to do something about it stand-by with a thumb wedged firmly in their collective ass, cashing government paychecks and shiftlessly giving nothing – and I mean nothing – in return.

You’re a victim.  Get used to it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The old idiom ‘coming full circle’ means returning to the original place from which one started.

From that viewpoint, I think it’s safe to say that the City of Daytona Beach’s efforts to resolve the issue of homelessness have come full circle.

As you may remember, last winter, hordes of the Great Unwashed took up permanent residency at the county administration building on Beach Street after the City of Daytona Beach closed restroom facilities and removed benches from Manatee Island Park.

It was nothing new.

The park closing was just business as usual – the furtherance of a long-term misguided strategy of doing the same thing over-and-over again and expecting different results.

The equal and opposite reaction to Daytona Beach’s public policy of institutional humiliation as a means of “controlling” the homeless population put the issue front-and-center when these unfortunates moved out of the relative obscurity of the bushes and into the public eye.

Nothing gets attention quite like 80 or 90 homeless people collectively relieving themselves on the sidewalk in front of a government building.

I don’t mean to sound shallow.  (Yes I do.  It’s just my “way.”)

As I’ve said before, this is a very difficult problem for government – I dealt with it to various effect for years – the issues are infinite and available funding is not.  When your only tool is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.  I get it.

But I don’t think Mr. Chisholm and the Daytona Beach City Commission has the luxury of simply throwing their hands in the air and saying, “I don’t want to be in the homeless business anymore,” then drop the issue like a hot rock, either.

As regular readers of this forum know, I have my suspicions that this godawful mess is more about who gets a place at the public trough and less about serving the needs of our homeless population.

It just seems to me that, rather than do the heavy lifting, Daytona Beach desperately wants to find someone to take the reins and make a go of a homeless shelter – and I’ll just bet they are willing to throw some serious money around to make that happen.

Just like Volusia County did, eh?

I mean, it just doesn’t make sense that after a few fits and starts at finding a viable solution to the issue, Daytona Beach simply whines, “It’s too hard” and walks away?

They just give up?

Since when is that an option for government?

“Well, folks, we’re just not smart enough to find an option – and if we can’t go big, we won’t go at all – so we’ve decided to just say ‘fuck it’ and go back to things we can control – like giving your money to developers and funding massive projects for International Speedway Corporation.”

Don’t get me wrong – my hats off to Daytona Beach for even trying – I just think it’s too early for unconditional surrender.

If you want to get into laying blame, well, there’s enough to go around.  Trust me.

Look no further than those tepid fools on the Volusia County Council who abdicated their responsibility for helping to find a cooperative and comprehensive solution months ago.

Frankly, I’ll never forget the arrogance – and ignorance – of players like Josh Wagner and Jim Dinneen – and I hope you don’t either.

During the initial dust-up, Volusia officials kept holding out – then snatching back – an offer of $4 million dollars to fund construction of the proposed 200+ bed “Safe Harbor” shelter on county-owned lands somewhere in the wilds near US-92.

Hell, Daytona was duped by the county so many times it started to look like a bad Roadrunner cartoon.

Of course, the county’s “offer” was accompanied by the usual name-calling and ultimatums as Dinneen repeatedly attempted to hold the cities hostage for long-term operating funds.

Then, in June – ignoring the anguished screams of the surrounding neighborhood – the county voted unanimously to authorize a $3.5 million expenditure to finalize the purchase and renovation of the shuttered Hurst Elementary School for a homeless assistance center ostensibly to serve “families and displaced children.”

Once the renovations are complete, the facility will be gifted to Halifax Urban Ministries.

What?

That’s right, handed to them on a gilded plate – no bids, no performance guarantees, no oversight, no shit.

“Here’s $4.7 million in taxpayer funds and resources.  Good luck.”

Now, I don’t know anything about the Halifax Urban Ministries – or its executive director, the Rev. Mark Geallis – other than he ran some Subway sandwich shops and received his ordination and “BS Degree” from something called Maranatha Christian College over on Nova Road.

Look, don’t get your knickers in a bunch.  I’m just asking questions here.

I’m sure the mission of HUM is to do good work in the community – they always have – and I have no doubt Rev. Geallis is a great guy.  I know some of the names on HUM’s board of directors and they’re solid folks – each strongly committed to helping the less fortunate and making the Halifax area a better place.

I just thought that, perhaps, the powers that be in Volusia County government might want to take a look at all our options – you know, since a few million dollars in public funds are being spent.

Maybe they did and I’m just out-of-the-loop.  Maybe the gift is locked down tight as a drum.

But I doubt it.

What I do know is that the project was championed by Mrs. Forough Hosseini and ramrodded by Jim Dinneen.

Frankly, that’s all you need to know.

I guess now Volusia County can moonwalk back from the fray, slap each other on the back, and say, “Well, we’ve done our part.  We spent your money.  Mori’s happy.  Oh, and here’s your new “family homeless shelter.”  Suck it, Daytona – maybe next time you’ll pony-up when we tell you to.”

Indeed.

Now, the City of Daytona Beach has some 70 dependents housed in Ridgewood Avenue motels – at least until August 11.

What happens then is anyone’s guess – but I would be putting up some rolls of Dannert wire at the County Administration building if I were Jim Dinneen. . .

Apparently the motel option was Daytona’s last/best attempt at the “housing first” strategy preferred by the majority of non-profits, faith-based organizations and local governments who met for the big homeless summit at Daytona State College last month.

According to a recent editorial by the Daytona Beach News-Journal, last week The Guardian reported that the number of homeless people in the United States decreased by 11% between 2010 and 2015.

The decline was attributed to the shift toward “housing first” policies.

Interesting.  But wouldn’t the number of homeless naturally be reduced whenever you take people off the street and shove them in a government subsidized space – be it a fleabag motel or vacant rental properties?

According to proponents of “housing first” – it’s a win-win.

Unless you happen to be the taxpayer footing the bill.

In my view, it’s like sweeping dust under the rug, then raving about how clean the floor is.

The problem is still there – it’s just consolidated and covered for the time being.

I may be wrong (I usually am).

As I’ve previously said, in my view, putting a chronically homeless person – one who is either incapable or unwilling to support themselves – in a subsidized apartment, house, or motel room with no other resources or support (Daytona didn’t even have a plan to feed their dependents) is little more than warehousing people.

The fact is, our area desperately needs a come-as-you-are homeless shelter – and it needs one now.  I think you would agree that there are plenty of locations that could fill the need that aren’t located in the middle of a gated community or the Halifax Yacht Club’s backyard.

Unfortunately, it’s going to require some ingenuity, strategic thinking, and the ability to compromise to make it happen.

That said, I wouldn’t hold out much hope. . .

In my view, you need look no further than this complete abdication of responsibility and leadership by our elected and appointed officials when casting your vote this election season.

These lumps – at both the city and county level – have demonstrated that they simply don’t have the capacity to solve difficult problems, unless it involves throwing huge sums of money into the right hole.

They’ve got that move down pat.

 

 

August is a miserable month.

It’s hot, humid, and always marks another trip around the sun for this crusty old bastard.

As I prepare to turn 56 years old this weekend, I have been in a foul and stupid mood for the past several days as I take stock of where I’ve been – and God willing – where I’ll end up.

Memento mori, I suppose.

Since I retired, I try not to make too many plans.

One day can quickly blend into another and the lack of time pressure provides plenty of opportunities to brood, bitch and ruminate on the theme that life truly is what happens when your making other plans.

Now there is a kernel of sound advice for any twenty-something out there who is still trying to figure it all out.

Don’t get me wrong.  I have lived a supremely blessed life – full of all anyone could ever want – and I’ve been incredibly graced to have had so many wonderful people put in my path; people that have done so much for me personally and professionally.

So much that I can never adequately repay.

For instance, I once worked for a very wise old police chief who took me under his wing and probably did more to shape my early professional life than anyone.  He had very black-and-white views about the virtues of accountability and responsibility, and woe be unto anyone who failed to meet his lofty standards of professional conduct and leadership.

I don’t mean to imply that he was unforgiving of mistakes.  To the contrary.

He allowed me to make more mistakes than anyone I ever worked for.

The Chief allowed me to fall short and keep trying, to press beyond my skills and abilities and to employ untested methods and tactics.  He then used the results – good and bad – as a teaching tool.  That type of experiential learning can be terribly expensive – and sometimes hard on the body and mind – but it’s the most effective teaching tool around.

So long as my mistakes were honest – and made in the process of truly trying to better myself, a system or a process – he was accepting and supportive.

However, the one thing he would never tolerate is explanations or apologies.

In the Chief’s view, you either accepted responsibility for your actions, or you didn’t.  The Who, What, Where, and How didn’t matter – only the heartfelt acknowledgement, “I’ve made a mistake, and I’ll make it right again.”

As he explained, “That’s what people respect.”

He was right.

Many years ago I was a newly promoted line supervisor assigned to the Criminal Investigations Division.  In that role, I was responsible for the personnel and case management of a very busy group of police detectives.

In addition, my division had responsibility for the Evidence/Property Section – essentially the ultra-secure repository for all items of physical evidence and property coming into the police department.

By agency policy, as commander of the detective bureau, I was also named the department’s evidence custodian – making me personally responsible for everything from a rock used to break a window, to tens of thousands of dollars in illicit drugs, cash, guns, jewelry and other valuables held in evidence.

Periodically, I was required to conduct a complete audit of the facility and purge items that were no longer needed by the courts, etc.

Pursuant to the law, dangerous drugs were destroyed in a prescribed manner, and other items – tools, skateboards, baseball bats, bicycles – you name it – were sold at auction.

I established what I thought was a foolproof process whereby each item of purged evidence was confirmed to have been released by the court, removed from the computer inventory system, paperwork was routed to the Records Division, then the items were personally inspected by two independent detectives, and myself, to ensure that each item was suitable for sale to the public at auction.

Hundreds of items were meticulously processed in this manner.

On the day of the auction, everything went smoothly and I was quite proud of myself, and my team, for our hard work in preparing for the purge and sale.

That afternoon, while I was home relaxing, the telephone rang.

It was a news reporter asking me – pointblank – why my police department sold drugs from our evidence room to a local family?

From the reporter I learned that a gentleman had purchased a small duffel bag at the police auction for his son to carry his books to school in.

When they got the duffel home, they found a small glassine baggie – pressed completely flat – in a hidden zippered compartment at the bottom of the bag (perhaps where you would store your wallet at the gym or beach).

The baggie contained a small amount of marijuana.

We had missed it during our inspection process.

The reporter was preparing the story for the six o’clock news.

I was horrified.

My career was over.

I immediately sent a police officer to collect the baggie from the family’s home, apologized to them for my embarrassing error, then telephoned the Chief and advised him of my colossal screw-up.

I ended the conversation with the words, “I’ve made a terrible mistake, and I’ll make it right again.”

As I recall, his reaction was, “Damn right you did.”

At the time, we worked for one of the most incompetent and ineffectual city managers I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing.  Trust me, that’s saying something – because I worked for some real winners over the years.

This particular individual is dead now, so I won’t speak ill of him – only to say that he was a sorry human being and an even worse public servant.

The next day, the manager summoned me to his office and actually asked me if the “crime lab” could run a test to determine how long the baggie of pot had been inside the small zippered compartment of the duffel.

You read that right.

The old “how long has one bag been inside of another bag test.”  Now, the forensic scientists at FDLE and the FBI are pretty damn good – I’ve seen them work miracles – but they’re not that good.

I’m not positive, but I believe our city manager wanted to make the lame excuse to the media that the person who bought the bag could have easily put the marijuana inside after he made the purchase.

The manager then contacted the Chief and summoned him to the office.

“Here it comes,” I thought.  “I’m done.”

I’m not exactly sure what happened in that meeting, but at the end of the day, I kept my job, but received a written reprimand in my personnel file for my gross negligence in allowing contraband to leave the evidence facility.

More important, the Chief told me that he was proud of the way I handled the matter.

That meant the world to me.

Ultimately, the error went all the way back to the initial officer who submitted the duffel bag without thoroughly searching the bottom compartment.  Then, the evidence technician failed to catch the baggie when the item was logged in to secure storage – and eventually, my detectives and I failed to find it during our pre-auction inspection.

I could have blamed the mistake on any of those individuals and simply stepped aside.

But that wasn’t the culture of our organization – and I could never have reconciled it with myself – or my boss.

As a result, I learned a valuable lesson about the importance of being accountable for your area of responsibility – and for accepting criticism for the acts and omissions of others on your team.

In the aftermath, the reprimand stung for a while, but with the knowledge of how the mistake occurred, we were able to improve our system for disposing of purged property, and in the process, strengthened our culture of accountability – and our unit cohesion – in immeasurable ways.

My wise old chief did not suffer fools.  And neither do I.

Now, I may not have been the best police administrator or civic leader ever to come down the pike, but I recognize those who are by their actions – particularly when under stress.

In my view, people in high positions who make the same mistakes and errors in judgment again-and-again, then make excuses and dodge responsibility, are the antithesis of leaders.  In fact, they are a cancer on the organization or constituency that they are responsible for and accountable to.

Apparently the current DeBary City Council missed this important lesson in government accountability somewhere along the way.

Despite his best efforts, Mayor Johnson has been simply unable to sway his fellow elected officials into dropping the pending “forfeiture hearing” – a meeting where the Mayor is to stand trial in a kangaroo court of his fellow council members on ridiculous charges of charter violations brought by disgraced former City Manager – and forth stooge – Dan Parrott.

To his credit, Clint Johnson has apologized.

He was man enough to accept personal responsibility for his weird conduct and, even though he remains crazy as a barn owl, the Mayor has repeatedly extended an olive branch and vowed to attempt positive personal and professional change.

That’s more than I’ve seen from his judge, jury and executioners on the City Council.

Clearly, the members of the council want to keep their collective boot on Johnson’s throat for as long as possible, lest he dive off into the deep end again with his goofy shenanigans that have brought embarrassment to himself, his office and the City of DeBary.

Now, in my view, certain members of this city council – in conspiracy with certain key staff members and “consultants” – have been responsible for more crimes against the people of DeBary than any other entity in modern times.

Conduct that makes the Mayor’s goofy tweets and Facebook posts pale in comparison.

Their personal and professional conduct in misrepresenting their constituency has been reprehensible – and I am confident that they will ultimately be held accountable.

They are shameless and almost criminally stupid.

Let’s take, for example, the curious case of Vice Mayor Lisa Handy-Peters.

The animus between Ms. Handy-Peters and Mayor Johnson is palpable – even to the most casual observer.  Now, Johnson is alleging that he overheard the Vice Mayor telling someone at City Hall that she has already made up her mind about his fate at the hearing.

When confronted, Handy-Peters advised that she had just returned from her father’s funeral and blamed her statement convicting the Mayor before hearing the first shred of evidence on “all kinds of emotions.”

I’m sorry for her loss – but given their personal history –  I seriously doubt it was a sudden onset of emotions that prompted her private condemnation of Mayor Johnson.

Then, in the worst case of quibbling the facts in this entire sordid affair, Vice Mayor Handy-Peters tells the Daytona Beach News-Journal she didn’t “want to say that I didn’t say them, but what was the prompt to them?  What was the context?”

This clumsy excuse from the same pillar of character that has attempted, time-and-again, to deflect her responsibility in the on-going criminal allegations surrounding the Gemini Springs Annex debacle (“I only looked at pretty pictures!!”  “I didn’t vote on anything!!”).

I’m going to say this in the kindest way possible:  Ms. Handy-Peters – resign.

Get the hell out.

Your refusal to take responsibility for your actions, and those of your hired hands, are a direct reflection on your professional ethics and abysmal lack of leadership.

You are rapidly becoming the poster child for this steaming crock of shit.

Despicable.  Really.

In my view, it’s high time that the citizens of DeBary consider dis-incorporation of this unfortunate city – returning governance to Volusia County – and shutting down this ill-fated three ring circus once and for all.

Preferably before the lawyers and leeches peck away what remains of their hard-earned tax dollars.

As screwed up as county government is, in my view, it’s a damn sight better than the open corruption and disastrous lack of leadership that has preyed upon the good citizens and stigmatized the City of DeBary for far too long.

Breaking down the tent would be a fitting monument to a group of incompetent and incapable losers who cozied up to half-bright human jackals in an overweening fit of greed and put their own arrogant self-importance before the needs of those they were elected to serve.

Yes, if these depraved village idiots had any sense of decency left they would call an emergency session and turn out the lights on this foul experiment once and for all.

But they won’t.

Stay tuned, kids.

The Mayor’s fate will be decided in special session on August 24 – or, if history repeats, maybe it won’t.  Regardless, it’s going to be an interesting (and incredibly expensive) night for the good citizens of DeBary. . .

(Art Credit: Original Illustration of John Tenniel from “Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland”)

The tempest in a teapot within the Volusia Republican Executive Committee continues to play out – and while I don’t believe Chairman Tony Ledbetter’s scheme rises to criminal misconduct – it has exposed the very dirty underbelly of his hand built local political apparatus.

In my view, this imbroglio is indicative of much larger problems in local politics.

Don’t get me wrong – I get it.

Politics in 2016 is a blood sport, and there appears to be no bottom to the rhetoric, posturing and personal destruction that permeates every race.

Perhaps it’s always been this way, but I’ll be dipped if I can recall a time when the major political parties took such an active role in openly rigging primary elections for certain hand-selected candidates – while doing everything possible to internally and externally ostracize same-party hopefuls.

I thought that’s what the opposition was supposed to do?

For example, the Democratic National Committee is in utter chaos after thousands of internal emails exposed a conspiracy at the highest levels of the organization to torpedo the campaign of Senator Bernie Sanders.

I don’t know about you, but I never bought the ‘Russian intelligence’ hacking explanation.

While I see the strategic benefits to a foreign government obtaining opposition research and monitoring the internal communications of the DNC, it seems implausible that the Russian SVR’s political intelligence directorate would then expose sources and methods by dumping the results to WikiLeaks.

And I doubt the Russian’s are outsourcing their intel work to the DNC.

I’m no expert, but what little I do know tells me that hackers commonly route attack traffic through a third-party scapegoat – usually China, Russia or North Korea – and the packets used in these high-level intrusions are often nearly identical, making it almost impossible to positively identify the source of the ‘hack.’

While political espionage is nothing new, the whole Russian angle just seems too clean to me.

I could be wrong.

On the other hand, I have also followed with interest the suspicious death of Democratic National Committee staffer Seth Conrad Rich, who was shot to death on a street corner in Northwest Washington on July 10.

Rich, 27, was a self-described “data analyst” for the DNC working on voter expansion efforts.

According to a Washington Post report, “Police said they have no suspects, witnesses, or motive, though they are looking at whether Rich could have been slain in an attempted robbery.”

Since his death, numerous conspiracy theories (without any credible evidence) have run rampant on the internet, each essentially theorizing that Rich was killed after it was learned he was a whistleblower who provided WikiLeaks with the internal emails of the DNC to expose the election fraud designed to help Hillary Clinton win the Democratic primary.

I’ve never been one to put much stock in the myriad conspiracy theories that abound during any election cycle.  Namely because, in the end, we always find that the truth is far more chilling and treacherous than the wild speculation of a paranoid shut-in theorizing through his keyboard from his mother’s basement.

I also doubt that this blatant internal manipulation of the process is limited to the Democrats – even at the local level.

For example, it’s all but certain that “Chairman for Life” Tony Ledbetter and his minions at the Volusia Republican Executive Committee conspired to violate state party rules by circumventing the protocol which permits county organizations to endorse specific candidates for local office – even in non-partisan races.

What started out as an internal brouhaha over emphasis-added sample ballots being distributed by the VREC has now escalated into a criminal complaint filed with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Office of the State Attorney by incumbent Volusia County Chairman Jason Davis.

No one ever accused Chairman Davis of being the sharpest knife in the drawer – he’s not – but even he should have seen this move as over-the-top.  While I admire his spunk in exposing this internecine chicanery, perhaps literally making a Federal case out of Ledbetter’s bullshit was a bit much.

Look, I’ve been out of the law enforcement game for a while now, but I’ll just bet the FBI has better things to do than wallow around in Volusia County partisan politics.

Now, whether or not Ledbetter’s scheme and resulting party discord rises to a violation of Florida’s election law is something else.

I’m not an attorney, but most of my adult life was spent interpreting the elements and proper application of criminal statutes.

In my view, the statute Davis cites was clearly written to address the use of violence and intimidation through bribery, menace or threat to influence a vote.

While the law contains a provision for, “other corruption whatsoever, either directly or indirectly,” I just don’t believe Ledbetter’s blundering efforts to get his candidates a leg-up (despite party rules) rises to a crime.

That said, I don’t know of anyone who has a more difficult job than R. J. Larizza.

As State Attorney, Mr. Larizza’s office is frequently asked to transcend the traditional prosecutorial role and serve as the referee for local political dust-ups – most of which you never hear about.

In fact, the nexus of election season sensitivities and the law often require a disinterested third-party to sort political low blows from criminal conduct – and I suspect, at the end of the day, cooler heads will prevail.

In my many years in law enforcement, on several occasions I was the recipient of some very stern – but extremely helpful – “suggestions” and independent insight from the Office of the State Attorney when I lost my objectivity, especially regarding petty internal spats.

I remain forever grateful for their invaluable guidance.  It kept me out of trouble more than once.

So, if the State Attorney reviews the complaint and “suggests” to Mr. Davis that these are political matters that require a political solution, I hope he – and his supporters – will receive that good advice in the spirit in which it is offered.

I also don’t think Tony Ledbetter, Ed Kelley and the state committee candidates should get away with it either.  What they did was wrong.

In my view, Mr. Davis and his fellow competitors are well within their rights to call for Ledbetter’s resignation or removal for his open manipulation of the process.

Clearly, Chairman Ledbetter needed a way to circumvent the state party rules regarding individual endorsements, and he found it at the point of a Sharpie highlighter.

Much like the Chairman himself – it was unsophisticated and marginally effective.

In a recent op/ed by the Daytona Beach News-Journal, the argument was made that election advocacy is a fundamental First Amendment issue, and a freedom exercised by many organizations through voter guides and similar means.

In the News-Journal’s view, “criminalizing politics by equating candidate endorsements to corruption severely undermines free speech.”

I agree.

In my view, Mr. Ledbetter has every right under the First Amendment to personally endorse any candidate he wishes.  However, as Chairman of the Volusia Republican Executive Committee, Ledbetter has a larger personal and ethical responsibility under the rules of the Republican Party to ensure basic fairness in the process.

You know, the whole “may the best man/woman win” thing.

What is not addressed – in either the newspaper’s editorial or the criminal complaint – is the question of what, if any, role the local donor class played in Ledbetter’s scheme.

In my view, it is simply absurd to believe that Chairman Ledbetter’s handiwork in giving Volusia County chair candidate Ed Kelley special emphasis on the Republican sample ballot is not directly related to the tens of thousands of dollars given by local special interests to bolster Kelley’s candidacy.

Trust me. Nothing happens in local or state Republican party politics that is not in some way orchestrated by – or given the tacit approval of – Mr. Mori Hossieni.

In an excellent 2014 profile by the Daytona Beach News-Journal, reporter Dustin Wyatt wrote, “Though Morteza “Mori” Hosseini, 59, has never won a single vote, no elected official in Volusia or Flagler counties wields more power.”

And you can just bet he has Chairman Ledbetter on speed-dial.

A review of Mr. Kelley’s campaign finance reports shows the extent to which Mr. Hosseini and his fellow big money players – J. Hyatt Brown, Lesa France-Kennedy, and others – have poured huge sums of cash into Kelley’s war chest.

As I’ve said before, I could care less who Mr. Hossieni, Mr. Brown, Ms. France-Kennedy or anyone else supports with their hard-earned money.

These folks are certainly smarter and infinitely more successful than I am, and if they want to invest massive piles of cash in Mr. Kelley’s campaign – who am I to argue?

So long as we call it what it is.

When big money is used to purchase political influence, which in turn is used to engineer a regulated electoral system in favor of a donor-selected candidate in direct violation of state party rules is, in my view, patently unfair as it corrupts the fundamental fairness of the process.

Fairness be damned.  I think Chairman Ledbetter was just doing what he was told.

I also doubt that a “following orders” explanation will sway those core Republican committee members who see this steaming pile of dog shit for what it is.

Unless Mr. Hossieni and the other high rollers stand firmly behind Chairman Ledbetter, I think it’s safe to say that this won’t end well for him.

And it shouldn’t.

After all, at the end of the day, the VREC attempted to do the exact same thing that brought such shame and embarrassment to the Democratic National Committee – they broke the rules and violated the confidence, honor and character of the constituents they represent in an effort to illicitly manipulate the system.

If that’s not a crime, it ought to be.

 

 

I have always admired people who call it like they see it.

It’s why I instinctively turn to the editorial page in any newspaper I open.  Even if I don’t necessarily agree with the content, a good argument, cogently and persuasively made, tells me a lot about the outlet’s viewpoint and the community it serves.

I often judge people much the same way.

Recently, I saw a meme that rang true.  It said – “Everyone appreciates your honesty, until you’re honest with them.”

Despite the fact that most people consider themselves open-minded and accepting, I’ve found it’s a rare breed that can actually engage in an honest and open debate of opinions and still “agree to disagree” at the end of the day.

Not convinced?

Try discussing our current presidential race around the water cooler – or hash-out religious differences, immigration reform, or thoughts on your sister’s relationship issues at the Thanksgiving table.

You’ll get the idea.

I’m fortunate to have a precious few very close and very smart friends that consistently understand the issues and can air their unique thoughts and views with me in a supportive, constructive and engaging way.

Unlike any college campus in America, where anything other than group-think is verboten, we can engage in the healthy discussion and debate of the thorny social and political issues that touch us all.

Perhaps I spend too much time thinking about “things,” but I have an opinion on just about everything.  Regular readers know that I can often be brutal in my assessment of situations that I find detrimental to the public’s welfare – and I can’t stand bullies who misuse the power and influence of their position at the expense of the rest of us.

I’m equal opportunity in that regard.

Last week I read an interesting opinion piece written by Daytona Beach News-Journal Editor Pat Rice extolling the virtues and work ethic of Volusia Republican Executive Committee Chairman Tony Ledbetter.

Now, I consider Mr. Rice a friend of mine – but on this point – we’re going to have to agree to disagree.

In my view, “Chairman-for-Life” Ledbetter is perhaps the single most polarizing force in local politics.

I’m not referring to the hammer and tong battle at election time, I’m referring to the petty strife and angst he creates among his own local party affiliates.

Never one to let the rules get in his way, Tony recently violated both the letter and spirit of his own committee’s agreement with local Republican candidates – and perhaps the law – by distributing a “voters’ guide” that included an effective (if not ham-handed) scheme to give certain candidates special advantage by literally highlighting their names with a yellow marker.

As I understand it, the Republican Party of Florida has a convoluted rule that establishes a process which permits county executive committees to endorse individual candidates.

Among other things, the protocol requires that the committee notify all Republican candidates and hold a meeting where each party hopeful is given an equal opportunity to address the assembled committee members before a vote is taken.

Only candidates who receive 60% or more of the vote can be formally endorsed by the county executive committee.

While it appears Mr. Ledbetter and his committee followed the formalities of a meeting and vote, in the County Council chair race, no single candidate garnered the required percentage of votes to receive a formal individual endorsement in the committee’s voter guide.

In keeping with the state party’s rule, it was agreed that all four Republican candidates – Ed Kelley, Jason Davis, Greg Gimbert and Tom Laputka – would be given equal billing.

Then – as often happens in our era of social media – a photograph began circulating at the speed of Facebook which clearly showed that three names on the voter guide had been highlighted for special emphasis.

To include Ed Kelley.

This left even casual observers with the subliminal – if not glaringly obvious – impression that Mr. Kelley is (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) the committee’s REAL choice.

Another name highlighted for emphasis was Republican State Committeeman candidate Paul Deering.

His competitor in that race, Jim Oddie, reported that he saw a copy of the highlighted guide at a political “hob nob” in West Volusia last week – an event where both Deering and Ledbetter were said to have personally distributed the marked ballot to attendees.

Of course, Tony vehemently denied any involvement – and in true form – made the counter accusation that anyone who said he passed out altered voter guides was a “bald faced” liar.

Interestingly, the same sample ballots highlighting the names of Deering, and State Committeewoman candidate Marilyn Ford, were found stacked at the reception counter – and boldly affixed to the front door – of Ledbetter’s own Republican headquarters.

Naturally, the candidates who failed to receive Tony’s special emphasis are pissed.

Frankly, they have every right to be.

To make an agreement based upon an established party rule, then openly violate that pact, speaks volumes about the honor and character of Chairman Tony Ledbetter – and any candidate who would willingly go along with this despicable deception.

In a yeoman’s effort to downplay the fact that he had been caught red-handed, on Friday Ledbetter told the News-Journal that the “voters’ guides” circulated by Republican volunteers are like “one-on-one endorsements between friends.”

Really?  Because it says, “OFFICIAL REPUBLICAN SAMPLE BALLOT” right at the top of the guide.  Just sayin’.

According to news reports, Ledbetter said, “I leave it up to my volunteers to say what they want to say.  I’m not a dictator.”

Really?  Because it sure seems like it’s Tony’s way or the highway when it comes to local party matters.  Just sayin’.

Interestingly, the self-avowed non-dictator then issued an imperial declaration that all pre-marked sample ballots be removed from Republican headquarters immediately.

In my view, despite the clumsy denials and even more awkward attempt to clean-up his mess, at his core, Ledbetter knows that the damage has already been done.

By taking a page directly from the “There is no such thing as bad publicity” school of political marketing, the Chairman carefully orchestrated a strategy that lets everyone know exactly who the Chairman of the Volusia Republican Executive Committee supports and the rules be damned.

And that, my friends, is bullshit.  It might also be criminal.

Regardless, it’s mean-spirited and counter to the Florida Republican Party’s regulations governing local committee endorsements, and Ed Kelley, Paul Deering and Marilyn Ford damn well know it.

Now, incumbent Volusia County Council Chairman Jason Davis has filed a criminal complaint against Ledbetter.

During a press conference, Davis stated, “This is a broad attempt by Mr. Ledbetter, and his personal preferred candidates, Ed Kelley, Paul Deering, and Marilyn Ford, to deceive the voters of Volusia County and violate Title IX Chapter 104 Florida Statutes.”

It has been reported that Davis is also naming Kelley, Deering and Ford in his complaints.

Good for him.  I’m not a huge fan of Chairman Davis, but it’s about time somebody exposed this insider horseshit for what it is.

Regular readers of this blog know that I have written extensively on my views regarding Ed Kelley’s candidacy for Volusia County chair.

In my view, Ed is a perennial politician with no qualms about twisting his record – and his words – to suit his immediate political needs.

Given his donor list, is it any wonder why Ledbetter and his followers would fight so hard – even jeopardizing their own reputation and credibility – just to give Ed Kelley a leg up?

It’s because money influences people and processes.

And, unfortunately, it directly manipulates the outcome of elections.

Let’s face it, all one has to do is read Mayor Kelley’s campaign contribution reports to understand where his true allegiances lie – and it isn’t with you or me.

As I’ve said before, people like J. Hyatt Brown, Lesa France-Kennedy and Mori Hosseini are highly successful for one reason only – they don’t spend a dollar without knowingly exactly what the return on that investment will be.

In Ed’s case, the “Big Three” are making massive campaign contributions for one reason only – to purchase access and political sway – and Tony Ledbetter’s influence is an important part of their plan.

Ask yourself this:  Why would Brown, Hosseini and France – along with their considerable business entities – spend tens of thousands of dollars to support Ed Kelley for elective office?

Why would Tony Ledbetter gamble with the honor and reputation of area Republican’s to ensure Kelley receives an illicit boost from his committee?

What do you think these uber-wealthy power brokers consider an appropriate return on their sizable investment in Ed Kelley’s candidacy?

While Tony Ledbetter would like to think he swings a big hammer in local politics, the fact of the matter remains – he’s a foolish pawn in a much larger game that relies on simple-minded toadies to do the scut work of the real players – and it doesn’t make a damn if you’re a Republican or a Democrat.

In my view, the system is rigged on both sides of the isle.

Unless and until candidates at all levels of the political spectrum have the personal courage to stand up against the influence of big money, speak truth to power, and truly represent the collective interests of all constituents – not just those of the highest bidder – then we are doomed to having our elections controlled by the Chairman Ledbetter’s of the world.

In perhaps the best example of speaking truth to power that I’ve seen this political season, Volusia County Council chair candidate Tom Laputka is quoted as saying, “Some people are born assholes.  There are others who try really hard to be one.  Ledbetter is both.”

Now that’s calling it like you see it.

 

“The objective of a community is not merely to survive, but to progress, to go forward into an ever-increasing enjoyment of the blessings conferred by the rich resources of this nation under the benefaction of the Supreme Being for the benefit of all the people of that community.

If a well-governed city were to confine its governmental functions merely to the task of assuring survival, if it were to do nothing but to provide ‘basic services’ for an animal survival, it would be a city without parks, swimming pools, zoo, baseball diamonds, football gridirons and playgrounds for children. Such a city would be a dreary city indeed.

As man cannot live by bread alone, a city cannot endure on cement, asphalt and sewer pipes alone.

A city must have a municipal spirit beyond its physical properties, it must be alive with an esprit de corps, its personality must be such that visitors—both business and tourist—are attracted to the city, pleased by it and wish to return to it.

That personality must be one to which the population contributes by mass participation in activities identified with that city.”

From the concurring opinion of Justice Musmanno in Conrad v. City of Pittsburgh

I was reminded of Justice Musmanno’s opinion while reading a recent Daytona Beach News-Journal editorial, “Reclaim beachside with the power of fun.”

It seems simplistic to believe that the entrenched problems of blight, crime and homelessness – intractable struggles which have plagued beachside neighborhoods for years –  can somehow be diminished by free entertainment at the Bandshell – but it certainly can’t hurt.

As Dino Paspalakis, President of the Friends of the Bandshell, said – “Gives folks something to do.”

I’ve been hyper-critical of the City of Daytona Beach and the County of Volusia for their habitual inability to address the many serious issues facing the important core tourist area of A-1-A and points west.

They just seem incapable of progress.  On anything.

Like most political conundrums in Volusia County, the over-analysis, posturing and endless droning by inept politicians and their clueless staff does little, if anything, to actually correct the underlying conditions.

Take the issue of chronic homelessness as an example.

The powers that be have kicked that can so far down the road it’s now taken the form of essentially throwing money at slumlords for vacant motel space to house the habitually homeless.

We, the people, have heard so many bait-and-switch “suggestions” – a few of which sounded promising – only to have the rug pulled out from under us that now it’s just confusing – for me, anyway.

Trust me, I’ve said for months that this has nothing to do with long-term problem solving – and everything to do with who gets their head in the public trough.

Remember last winter when I said that this debacle would ultimately boil down to who gets the money?

Recently, some 30 “community leaders” got together at Daytona State College for a three-hour jaw-bump about how to best deal with the issue.

Again, it was little more than an exercise in hot air generation, but the one thing that did emerge from the confab was some strategic hand-wringing by a representative of something called the Florida Housing Coalition – which appears to be populated by bankers, real estate types, appraisers, and property managers – all bent on promoting the Golden Goose benefits of government subsidized housing.

Not surprisingly, the president of the FHC, Susan Pourciau, suggested that Daytona Beach take advantage of its existing housing stock with the goal of getting a homeless person from an emergency shelter and into a subsidized apartment or home within 30-days.

According to Pourciau, “It seems counter-intuitive to put someone with no income in an apartment, but it turns out that’s what sets them up for success,” she said. “It’s a lot easier to get a job out of an apartment.”

In my view, it doesn’t just seem counter-intuitive – it’s ludicrous.

What Susan failed to mention is that it also sets owners of low income rental properties up for success when their rental income is guaranteed by you and me.

It’s a win-win – unless you happen to be the taxpayer footing the bill.

Then it’s your quality of life that suffers when roads deteriorate, recreational amenities go away, and core services are reduced because your municipality is deeply engaged in a very expensive and “counter-intuitive” social experiment.

You know the old adage, “Give a man a fish and he’ll keep coming back, day-in-and-day-out, taking increasingly larger and more expensive fish from you because now he feels entitled to your fish, and your initial generosity has now established a customary practice that guarantees him access to your fish” or something like that?

Well, it’s true.

In my view, putting a chronically homeless person who is either incapable or unwilling to support themselves with absolutely no other resources or support simply sets up a situation where we are doing little more than warehousing people.

How does this scenario possibly help someone long-term – beyond giving them four walls and a roof?  If government all but ensures that your hierarchy of needs are met, where is the incentive to escape?

And more important – where does it end?

If there is one element that has contributed to the cancerous degradation of east Volusia communities, it’s the prevalence of fleabag motels in the major commercial corridors of Ridgewood and Atlantic Avenues.

If you want to point a finger at active crime and blight incubators, you need look no further than these over-mortgaged, under managed and poorly maintained dumps that harbor itinerant drug dealers, prostitution, and nuisance crime.

Prior to the convenience of Interstate 95, the main route to South Florida was U.S.-1.  During these early years, quaint mom-n-pop motels called “tourist courts” serviced travelers from Jacksonville to Miami.

Over time these properties have evolved into transient housing for a segment of the local population trapped between homelessness and low-income housing.  Those who by virtue of the Halifax area’s pervasive paycheck-to-paycheck existence simply cannot afford the requisite first month, last month and security deposit required to transition to an apartment.

Over three decades in local law enforcement, I have seen babies born and raised in these motels – who later raised families of their own in the same dilapidated and deplorable conditions.

An endless cycle of inescapable poverty, addiction and hopelessness.

In my view, if you want to help someone – these folks have demonstrated the ability to pay $300+ per week to keep a roof over their heads, and with a temporary rent subsidy, they just might be successful.

In other areas of our state, these blighted properties have been bought-up and torn down to make way for redevelopment and private investment. In my view, even vacant property is preferable to these service-sucking, vermin infested holes that drag down both the appearance and property values of everyone around them.

I doubt the Daytona Beach City Commission had the Hilton in mind when they agreed to place some 80 long-term homeless in area motels at a weekly cost to the taxpayers of between $6,000 and $16,000.  So while Mr. Chisholm and company seek to repair one problem, they exacerbate yet another.

Our elected officials have known since January – seven months – that the temporary fix afforded by the Salvation Army had an expiration date.  Yet these dunces are still no closer to a viable solution than they were last winter.

So, ultimately, they fall back to the only solution government knows – throw money at it.

Essentially, the same ineffective politicians have deferred finding a solution to the same ineffective staff members and the circle goes round-and-around.  You know, like suggesting we place a homeless shelter in the dead center of a yacht basin – one of the few truly “upscale” locations in downtown Daytona, then blame the NIMBY factor when their wholly inappropriate idea is rejected.

Unbelievable.

At the end of the day, we find ourselves grasping at anything positive – regardless of how disconnected from the core issues it may be – as a way of keeping the light in our community’s eyes from being extinguished altogether.

In my view, the good work of the Friends of the Bandshell in presenting the annual summer concert series is nothing short of admirable.  Clearly, the shows are bringing more local families to the long-neglected boardwalk area and that is an extremely encouraging step forward.

For the past few years we have attended several seasonal concerts at the Bandshell and in each case have left very satisfied with both the venue, amenities and the quality of the entertainment.

If you haven’t been, it’s a very fun evening, although, as with most things, you sometimes have to take your pleasure with some pain.

Trust me – planning is everything.

Our logistics for taking in a Bandshell concert involve arriving early and aggressively jostling for a parking space in the elevated garage across from Ocean Walk.  This involves copious use of the car horn, steely-eye determination, and polished heel/toe driving skills.

You’ll see what I mean. . .

Remember, it’s a drive-free beach at the boardwalk so parking is limited to county-owned space – especially with predatory tow trucks circling the nearby empty parking lots of deserted strip centers like hammerhead sharks.

Once the ugliness of the elevated garage is sorted out, it’s a short elevator ride and walk across the concourse to the stairs, through the breezeway, around the corner, down the steps, and onto the Bandshell grounds.

When you arrive, take a minute to visit “Richie Plaza” – the France funded monument to former Mayor Glenn Richie’s many civic accomplishments.  A beautiful tribute that stands out, literally, like a pearl in the sow’s ear that is beachside Daytona.

One of the main conveniences of the venue is the ability to rent a comfortable plastic lawn chair from the City of Daytona Beach.

From there, it’s simply a matter of finding an open spot in the crowd.

Over time, we’ve learned that the best place for taking in the show is at extreme stage right – directly in front of the loudspeaker tower, near the bar, and adjacent to the boardwalk access.

This spot positions you perfectly for the “show within a show” that begins just after sunset.

That’s when the same group of half-drunk, zombie-like vagrants emerge from the shadows of the boardwalk like clockwork and begin staking out their turf by plopping-down in the vacant rented seats of paying visitors who have temporarily left for the bar or the bathroom.

Then, the “Theatre of the Absurd” begins.

Now, picture in your mind’s eye the comical scenario that ensues when the fan with a rental chair returns from the bathroom to find a fellow concertgoer – one who has taken to the convenience of urinating in his pants for the past few days – occupying his/her spot!

Oh, Lawdy!  We laugh till our sides hurt!  It’s like watching one of Alan Funt’s “Candid Camera” episodes!

The look on the unfortunate persons face who actually rented the chair – hands full of nacho’s and beer – returning to their seat and staring down, slack-jawed, at the chemically-altered bearded weirdo now warming their chair with his wet, sand-encrusted ‘jorts’ is just priceless.

Add to that our fellow Patron of the Arts who has been sleeping in a tattered business suit under the pier for the past month, and who is now screaming incoherently above the music into an inactive cell phone – which he suddenly and violently throws to the ground in front of me, smashing it into small shards that fly into my bare ankles – and you truly have a magical night to remember in Daytona Beach.

How fun.

You might think I’m being facetious – I’m not.

We actually prefer to sit in that area of the venue just to watch the wacky hijinks of the always comical wandering hobo’s.

Let’s face it, “tribute bands” are either really good – or really bad – there is very little in-between.  So it helps to have a diversion when your Billy Joel impersonator looks and sounds like a used car dealer from Hoboken.

As regular readers of this blog know – I’m a simple asshole who makes light of everything – so don’t take my word for it.  Check it out for yourself.

These are truly serious problems that have no easy answer, and I’m sure my fun-poking doesn’t help the process.  But just maybe it brings attention to the issues.

Perhaps we should take our small victories when and where we can.

After all, the only way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time, and Lord knows we have a huge woolly mammoth dinner on our collective plate in Volusia County.  But I agree that the simple act of providing people with a free diversion has gone a long way to returning life to areas of our community that have suffered for far too long.

We need a lot of things fixed in Volusia County – and we can no longer afford the same stagnate and ineffective cycle of incompetence that our current officials are seemingly incapable of escaping.

But that’s what elections are for, eh?

We are beginning to see glimmers of hope – such as the good work of Friends of the Bandshell and other all-volunteer change agents who are working hard to improve things and breathe life into a community desperately trying to escape the dreariness Justice Musmanno so eloquently described.

So long for now, I’m off to buy some rental property. . .

 

I don’t know about you, but I’ve reached critical mass on the political front.

My God.  Does it ever end?

Like Dr. Thompson said, “How low do you have to stoop in this country to be President?”

Honestly.

Back-to-back national conventions, coupled with the steady drumbeat of the local races, have left me longing for a time before campaign signs, stupid slogans and the constant dissection of every word spoken by every candidate from municipal dog catcher to the presidency.

It’s the quintessence of the 24-hour news cycle run amok.  I’m certain this is the tenth circle of hell that Dante missed.

I think we should declare a temporary ceasefire.

Just a few days to catch our breath, talk about something other than politics, and stop the relentless carpet bombing of party strategies, meaningless endorsements, staged debates, contrived campaign slogans, forced smiles, trash-talk, worthless billboards and the omnipresent talking heads.

A chance for our friends and neighbors who are running for local elective office to take a much needed break from prostrating themselves before the electorate and collect the last remaining shards of their personal dignity.

Last week, when I just couldn’t take it anymore – I bailed.  Sorta.

I learned a long time ago the benefit of taking a few days away to change perspective and recharge the batteries.  For most, the balance of life – the yin and yang, if you will – wobbles when they work hard, but fail to play with equal enthusiasm.

I’ve never had that problem.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going – and I take a vay-cay.

No one ever accused me of hyper-extending myself.  Especially since I laid my burdens down and joined the ranks of the gainfully retired.  Like Augustus McCrae, I’ve always thought that since Patti works so much, I have an obligation to do less.

You know, to keep the world balanced on its axis.

For the past week or so, I’ve been in Key West enjoying the company of close friends and all the wonderful things that Florida’s island paradise has to offer.

The Keys have changed dramatically since I first went down as a teenager in the mid-1970’s.

In many ways, Key West has transformed into everything the “end of the road” once rejected – t-shirt shops and theme bars patronized by throngs of cruise ship warriors hustling their way through a precious few, dreadfully humid, hours on Duval Street.

Most of us know Key West as the place Jimmy Buffett wrote about in songs like “A Pirate Looks at Forty” and “Woman Going Crazy on Caroline Street.”  But like Buffett himself, Key West has slowly transitioned into a mega-marketed, uber-wealthy, plasticized version of what it used to be.

I’m not saying that’s necessarily a bad thing, but when most of your old haunts now have logoed tank tops and neoprene beer coolies strategically placed for retail sale as you stumble out, you know times have changed in Margaritaville.

It’s still a great place to visit and decompress, and it remains one of the most unique cities in the country.  And with the right pair of eyes you can still see vestiges of Old Key West when you venture off the beaten trail.

If you go down, take some time to get off the bar stool and explore the Lower Keys – it’s an amazing eco-system and offers some great local history, from stories of drug smuggling to the infamous Sugarloaf Key Bat Tower.

That’s right.  A bat tower.

Along about 1929, a guy named Richter Perky had the idea that he could build a thriving community on Sugarloaf if he could just get rid of the millions of malaria-carrying mosquitoes that made the place virtually uninhabitable.

The pests swarmed in huge dense dark clouds, screaming and humming then setting upon and biting incessantly any warm-blooded creature that happened onto the island.

In the summer, it is said that the few locals were driven temporarily insane by the sheer number of the bugs.  So many that one early resident lamented that he could rake the mosquitoes off his arm in the late afternoon.

Seeing an opportunity, Perky decided to construct a bat roosting tower from plans purchased from a self-described bat expert in Texas.  The thought being that the bats would control the mosquito population while living comfortably in their brand new, state-of-the-art high rise.

In fact, the 30-foot tower was marketed as having, “all the conveniences any little bat heart could want.”

With construction complete, Mr. Perky went to San Antonio and purchased hundreds of the furry winged creatures which he transported back to the island in his specially constructed “bat mobile.”

It was quite a happening on little Sugarloaf Key.

All the townsfolk turned out to watch their new pest controllers take up residency.

Bleachers were built and festive bunting was affixed and the whole town was in a froth of welt-scratching civic pride when Perky ceremoniously opened the door of his truck – and every single bat flew out and away, and away, and away, never to be seen again.

Not one bat ever roosted in poor Perky’s tower.

Today, the tower still stands as a monument to the folly of man at the end of an unnamed dirt road just south of the Sugerloaf Lodge, a few hundred feet from a suspicious landing strip which is home to a skydiving operation run from a thatched hut on the crumbling asphalt ramp.

While I was staring up at the tower, I wondered to myself how many times that “expert” in Texas sold those same bats?

But I think ol’ Perky would be proud.  Today, the real estate market on Sugarloaf Key is booming with single-family homes starting in the mid $600,000’s.

Only in Florida.

Last Friday night I stood as a contestant in the 36^th Annual Hemingway Look-a-Like Contest at Sloppy Joe’s Bar.

For the uninitiated, Ernest Hemingway lived in a beautiful Spanish Colonial home on Whitehead Street during the 20’s and 30’s, one of the most prolific periods of his career.

When Hemingway first arrived in Key West from Paris, he claimed, “It’s the best place I’ve ever been anytime, anywhere, flowers, tamarind trees, guava trees, coconut palms…Got tight last night on absinthe and did knife tricks.”

I can report that not much has changed in that regard.

To commemorate the Nobel prize winning author’s legacy in Key West, each July the city plays host to “Hemingway Days,” featuring a literary contest, three-day marlin fishing tournament, and a wild “Running of the Bulls” event, all centered around the world famous “Hemingway Look-Alike Contest” at Sloppy Joe’s – which is said to be one of Ernest’s favorite watering holes back in the day.

It’s an amazing spectacle with over one hundred portly, white-bearded old guys parading across the main stage to the hoots and hollers of hundreds of drunk supporters, tourists, and disinterested locals, all vying for the coveted title of “Papa 2016.”

Having registered for the event back in February at the urging of a friend, who, while quaffing drinks at Sloppy Joe’s, saw my likeness in the bar’s Hemingway-themed logo and drunk-called me to urge my participation.

“You’re a shoo in!” he said. . .

The call caught me drinking some daiquiri concoctions called “Papa Dobles” (a favorite of Papa Hemingway), so I thought, “It’s an omen! – Why the hell not?”

The contest is spread over three nights with the preliminaries beginning on Thursday.

Strategically, I selected the second night to make my appearance; the thought being I could gain some good intelligence by watching the first round contestants.

I later learned that very little can adequately prepare you for this incredibly unique competition.

About six o’clock the sprawling barroom transforms into a swarm of screaming supporters, each waving signs, paddles and hoisting gigantic spinning heads featuring the likeness of their “Papa Wannabe.”

Add to this the open and shameless bribery of the judges – each of whom is a former winner and member of the Hemingway Look-Alike Society – dogs wearing beards, and eastern European tourists clamoring for photographs with the contestants and you have a variety of pandemonium I’ve rarely encountered.

During a meet-and-greet with fellow participants and former winners, I actually saw a young lady, 20-something, snuggled-up to a fat guy who looked just like me (they all did) while her boyfriend urged her to remove her right nipple from her bikini-top so he could take a picture for posterity.

I thought this must be some kind of weird Field of Dreams for hypertensive old white guys. . .

On the night of the competition, we were herded to the edge of the main stage while two guys serving as Masters of Ceremony fanned the crowd into a frenzy of anticipation.

In the only element of organization evident during the entire event, we were called – eight at a time – in alphabetical order and given just 15-seconds to plead our case before the white-bearded judges seated in front of us.

Having fortified myself with several rum-based libations – I was well in the spirit when, suddenly, a microphone was held to my face and my 15-seconds of fame began.

Now, I’ve done my share of public speaking and I had practiced my “campaign speech” to perfection. I felt my spiel had just the right mix of humor and “aw shucks” humbleness necessary to sway the vote in my favor.

But when the moment of truth finally came, I found myself shouting something akin to, “Errrrrmeeegerd! Soooohabbytoobeeher!  I’m a troubled man for troubled times!  Vote Barker 2016!!”

And just like that, the crowd went crazy – as only a packed house of slap-happy drunks can – and the microphone was quickly moved to the mirror image standing to my right.

There was a whole lot of heart on that stage.  There was also a whole lot of high blood pressure and prostate issues. . .

After much tabulation and anticipation, the Papa’s totaled the votes and the preliminary finalists were announced – and, alas, I wasn’t one of them. . .

I didn’t feel so bad, after all, some of my competition have been involved for many years (one gentleman was celebrating his 20^th year in the event without once having been selected as a finalist).

I also learned that the selection process has a great deal to do with your level of participation in the Society – fundraising, etc. – and less to do with how much you may or may not favor Ernest.

Politics.  At the end of the day, I simply traded one weird campaign for another, I suppose.

On the bright side, I met some wonderful people – including Michael Groover, the husband of southern super-chef Paula Deen – who made it all the way to the finals on Saturday night, only to be vanquished by Dave Hemingway (no relation) of North Carolina who was ultimately crowned “Papa 2016.”

(For the record, both Ms. Deen and her husband were incredibly warm, inviting and approachable.  Wonderful people, indeed.)

It was a weird scene to say the least – one of the strangest things I’ve ever been involved in (and trust me, I’ve been involved in some weird shit) but I truly enjoyed the experience.

You know what they say – “There’s always next year” – and I’ll definitely be back to try again.  A little grayer and a little fatter – but it’s the only race I know where those two things are considered attributes.

Let’s end with a Hemingway’s quote on politics:

“All the contact I have had with politics has left me feeling as though I had been drinking out of spittoons.”

Couldn’t have said it better myself, Ernie. . .

 

Five dead in Dallas.  At least three law enforcement officers killed and three wounded in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

My heart is breaking.

There is a war on police officers in the United States.

I am ignoring my own rule, writing this as I watch events unfold, rather than wait for all the facts to be known.  Screw it.  My emotions are raw – a seething mix of utter sadness and building rage – and perhaps I should ask forgiveness now for the tone of my remarks.

But I won’t.

I will never apologize for supporting my brothers and sisters in law enforcement – and I will remain forever proud of my service and my profession.

One week ago I wrote an essay that appeared in the Daytona Beach News-Journal editorializing my support for law enforcement in the aftermath of the ambush-style murder of five police officers in Dallas, Texas.

Now, on a beautiful Sunday morning, we suffer yet another deadly attack.

Following the publication of my op/ed last Sunday, former Ormond Beach police chief Larry Mathieson took me to task in his own Community Voices article, “Police can fight hostility.”

According to Chief Mathieson, my “bias” in supporting law enforcement while condemning inflammatory media speculation, incendiary rhetoric, and our complete lack of political leadership (factors which I believe have contributed to the current demonization of police officers) “are at the core of the problems with race, policing and violence in this country.”

He then stated, in part:

“Doing better is where police should focus their energy. Instead of thinking in terms of paranoia, and pointing the finger of blame at the media, the president or the boogie man, let’s focus on what we can do as a profession to do things better. Let’s start by pointing the finger of responsibility at ourselves.” 

Chief Mathieson – I’m not sure what “boogie man” you’re referring to, but a monster killed five law enforcement officers in Dallas two weeks ago, and another just took the lives of three more in a savage assault in Louisiana.

Frankly, I am sick and tired of spineless, namby-pamby apologists like Mathieson telling these brave men and women who are actually in the arena how they should do things “better.”

How dare you.

And by the way, it’s not “paranoia” when officers are being slaughtered in the streets.

I find it nauseating – although not unexpected – that in the aftermath of the deadliest day for law enforcement since 9/11, Mr. Mathieson had the abject temerity to opine that law enforcement officers – who proudly and bravely hold the line with a target on their backs – should “point the finger of responsibility” at themselves.

Initially, I simply considered the source and opted to let it go.

Let’s just say that – despite his extremely high opinion of himself – Larry is not someone I, or anyone else I know, consider an expert on much of anything – certainly not law enforcement leadership.

Frankly, I dismissed it as the babbling of an irrelevant has-been exploiting a bad situation to gin up business for his obligatory retirement “consultancy.”

But with officers lying dead in the street in Baton Rouge, my rage will simply not permit me to sit quietly.  I fear that someone might mistake my silence for acquiescence to Mathieson’s horseshit opinions and International Association of Chiefs of Police group-think.

The fact is, Larry Mathieson is a “consultant” – in my view, just another leech on the government teat – who makes his living as a self-described expert, exploiting and hyping problems that he can advertise to help resolve for a hefty fee.

How many law enforcement officers have to die before you see the utter shame in blaming these brave souls for the craven acts of despicable and cowardly domestic terrorists?

Stop pointing your fucking finger.  It is not law enforcement’s fault, Larry.

Do you see that now?

Just last week, while the Dallas Police Department was burying its dead, I witnessed news footage of college-aged young people of all races marching through a major metropolitan area chanting, call and response: “What do we want?  Dead Cops!  When do we want them? Now!” then “We should shoot you!” and “Fuck the Police!”

Disgusting.

Unlike Larry Mathieson, I don’t particularly care what underlying social conditions or “community perceptions” may or may not have contributed to this vile brand of hatred.  I recognize it for what it is – strategic ambuscades targeting police officers as a terroristic means of advancing a twisted ideology of racial animus to incite further divisiveness.

I also know that when certain groups scream death threats in the streets of America, openly calling for the wholesale murder of law enforcement – and then we see officers dying in violent attacks – only a fool would deny that there is a direct and menacing correlation.

When those same horrific and provocative chants – protected as they may be – are then tacitly approved, if not bolstered, by the knee-jerk comments of President Obama, candidates, political hacks and so-called “social activists,” it sends a distinct message that cops lives don’t matter.

Add to that a complete lack of political leadership in the country – and a few gutless police administrators who preach mollification and self-blame –  and you have a hell broth of radicals, apologists and shameless opportunists clawing to fill the void.

In Washington, there is a growing tradition of demonstrating unity and symbolizing respect by bathing the White House in colored lights significant to the occasion.  In the aftermath of the Charlie Hebdo attacks, the colors of the French flag were used.  When gay marriage was ratified by the Supreme Court, the colors of the rainbow shone brightly at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Last week, Jon Adler, president of the Federal Law Enforcement Officers Association, formally asked the White House to consider this public show of support for the fallen officers, and for law enforcement around the nation, following the ambush attacks in Dallas.

President Obama refused.

Spokesman Josh Earnest, speaking for the President, advised the White House would not light up the façade in blue, stating that Mr. Obama had acknowledged the loss in other ways.

Really?  It’s a few light bulbs.

But more important, it symbolizes a strong political statement of support for police that Mr. Obama and his administration simply refuse to make, least he alienate the radical fringe.

Better to cultivate political favor from these ‘rebels without a cause’ than honor the memory of eight dead heroes.

I fear things are going to get worse before they get better in this godawful Summer of 2016.

Once again we will mourn the dead and pray for the wounded – and our brave men and women of law enforcement will lace-up their boots, pin on the badge, and go in harm’s way to protect us.  All of us.  United, as always.

God bless them.

In my view, it’s time we ignore the arrogant lecturing of self-promoting pseudo-experts like Larry Mathieson and others who spew the cheap rhetoric of appeasement and apology.

Let’s simply take a stand in support of the men and women of law enforcement.

They damn well deserve it.

 

Just when you thought you’ve seen everything – you suddenly realize – you haven’t seen anything.

If there is any DeBary resident that needs further evidence to support the fact that the current city council is in an unrecoverable tailspin, then welcome home from the dark side of the moon and please read Dinah Pulver’s excellent piece in today’s Daytona Beach News-Journal, “Developer squabbles with DeBary, faces penalties for clearing.”

As I commented last week, in one of the most ham-fisted political maneuvers in the history of municipal governance, the council voted to table a plat approval request from the Henin Group for Riviera Bella Unit 4 – a parcel of land under development on Fort Florida Road – which is literally a stone’s throw from the 30-acres of old growth forest that Henin plowed into a primordial ooze sans permit or authorization.  Just did it.

It was evident to everyone that tabling the plat approval was inextricably linked to the illegal land clearing – a point not missed by Mr. Henin’s very smart Orlando-based attorney, Tera Tedrow.

Hell, City Attorney Kurt Ardaman couldn’t have telegraphed the council’s intentions any better if he had hired a skywriter.

According to the News-Journal, Ms. Tedrow wrote a strongly worded letter to the City of DeBary, essentially saying what the rest of us already knew, “…it was “clear” that issues pertaining to the land clearing “may have been the true motivation for tabling the plat approval.” She stated the developer would pursue a legal remedy if the plat is denied or “continues to be unnecessarily delayed.”

Wow.

One would think that, given Mr. Henin’s environmental misconduct and open disregard for the rules and laws at Riviera Bella, he might have thought it prudent to let the dust settle and maybe build a little goodwill with residents in the area who are still staring at the hideous gash he left in the earth.

Instead, Mr. Henin says in essence, “Know your role, city council.  You’re holding up my money – do it now or I’ll sue your eyeballs out!”

Yes, sir.  Three bags full, sir.  “SPECIAL MEETING, Y’ALL!”

In my view, this is akin to the armed robber who cuts his finger while ripping the cash register out of the wall – then sues the convenience store for his medical bills.

Now, let me get this right: The Henin Group willfully and unlawfully – and in my view, with a well-formed criminal intent – clear-cuts some 30-acres of sensitive land from the face of the planet, then, in perhaps the greatest show of unbridled hubris since Gaius Caligula, threatens legal action against the victims (the citizens of DeBary) when they have the temerity to temporarily stop further construction while they investigate the crime and analyze appropriate sanctions?

Then, the arguably insane Mayor Clint Johnson – whose outrageous antics have embarrassed the community and absolutely alienated him from his fellow elected officials – acts completely in contradiction to the wishes of the majority of the council and schedules a special meeting to approve Henin’s plat request.

You know, the very request that the council voted in the majority to table just last week.

The Mayor would have us believe that he called the urgent meeting out of concern for the city’s mounting legal bills – and his hand-wringing over the community’s reputation with would-be developers.

Really?

Mayor Johnson, do you honestly believe in your heart-of-hearts that you can improve the obscene reputation of this council by pandering to a developer that gutted 30-acres of land right under your nose without so much as a city tree removal permit – let alone any official authorization from state or federal regulators?

Do you think that blatantly ignoring the will and direction of your fellow council members – and your constituents – will somehow restore your “reputation” in the speculative real estate industry?

My God.  It’s like currying favor with a ditch pig in hopes the other greed-hogs still find you attractive.  At the end of the day, you’re still wallowing with filthy swine.

While Mayor Johnson attempts to paint himself as “pro-growth” – in reality, he has flagrantly exposed himself as the craven toady of Jerome Henin.

I might not have my finger on the pulse of DeBary residents, but I’ll just bet they don’t give a tinker’s damn about Henin’s “severe financial detriment” or “multi-million-dollar closing.”

I know I don’t.

In fact, I couldn’t care less.

In my view, the Henin Group – much like the DeBary City Council – has demonstrated an absolute disdain for ethical conduct and completely ignored the public’s welfare.

The difference being, the Henin Group is a private business trying their level best to scratch-out a profit, even if they have to pay a few pesky fines along the way for their appalling crimes against the environment.

It is time for the residents of DeBary to come to the sobering realization that this council needs to be recalled (a nice way of saying, the bums should be thrown out of City Hall on their asses).

In an environment where goofy tweets and Facebook posts constitute grounds to spend piles of taxpayer money in an attempt to remove a sitting mayor – one might think that the conflagration of utter dysfunction, quid pro quo corruption, staff complicity and total incompetence (coupled with the open pandering to the very developer that told what passes for city “regulators” to go pound sand as they scoured the land) would be enough to launch these feckless assholes.

Clearly, we have gone far beyond the point where any thinking person can say with a straight face that this council has any semblance of the citizen’s interests at heart.

When they aren’t blathering tirelessly about Mayor Johnson’s pending “forfeiture hearing” or wasting precious time plotting how they can “build around” protected conservation lands, they are busy spitting and spatting about their quirky internecine wars from the dais.

All while nine months into the budget cycle the long suffering townsfolk still do not have the first inkling of what next year’s budget might look like.

All the citizens know – or apparently need to know – is that the cost of legal expenses is going to be astronomical.

Damn your infrastructure repair and replacement.

Damn your recreation and leisure budget.

Your friggin’ leech-like lawyers are going to make bank.  Handsomely.

Outrageous.

According to the News-Journal’s report, Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission officials said one of the agency’s gopher tortoise agents and “city officials” investigated the Riviera Bella property and didn’t find any evidence to support concerns from nearby residents that protected turtles lived on the land that was cleared.

Naturally.  Nobutty saw nuttin’.

I wonder how many residents of Fort Florida Road were interviewed?

Now, I’m no “gopher tortoise agent,” but I would be curious how one makes a determination that no endangered tortoises lived on that tract – when the land has been compacted and graded level by excavators – coupled with the fact the little buggers live everywhere else in the neighborhood?

It’s my understanding that persons living in the area reported that the roadway looked like the floor of an abattoir – littered with the carcasses of dead wildlife – in the immediate aftermath of the land clearing.

A friend and I have personally visited the site twice – once immediately after the clearing was reported, and again last week.

Of course there is no evidence of gopher tortoises, or anything else.

The land has been clear-cut, graded, and seeded.  Now, it’s in the process of being staged to look like a Swiss meadow.

These things happen when you allow the suspects to clean-up the evidence.

Reminds me of the time in the not too distant past when the hero of the Gemini Springs Annex debacle, John Miklos, through his company Bio Tech Consultants (you might remember them), felled an American Bald Eagle’s nest on property under development near Vero Beach.

According to Mr. Miklos, it was all one big “misunderstanding” – seems he thought it was an osprey’s nest. . .

A subsequent investigation by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission failed to result in criminal charges, but concluded that there was a “financial relationship between Bio-Tech and the (then) chairman of the Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission.”

Federal wildlife officials also failed to act – or to comment on the source or significance of Mr. Miklos’ relationship with then FWC Chairman Kenneth Wright.

State records indicate that Miklos and Wright formed Gulf Mitigation Solutions, Inc. in 2010, and China Grove LLC in 2014.

That’s right.  They were in business together.

I’m not sure what the corporation does – other than apparently mitigate speculative developer’s chances of being indicted for environmental crimes.

Sound familiar?

Meanwhile, back at City Hall, Mayor Johnson and the gang quibble over the meaningless while DeBary burns.