bu·reau·cra·cy (byoo·rok·rå·sé)
n
1. An administrative government divided by departments; also the non-elected government officials.
2. The undue extension of government departments and the power of their officials.
3. A state or organization operated by a hierarchy of paid officials.
4. Complex rules and regulations applied rigidly.
li·a·bil·i·ty (lí·e·bil·e·tê)
n
1. Legal responsibility for something, especially costs or damages.
2. Anything for which somebody is responsible.
Oy vey! So we got growing pains already!
Good day everyone, this is the Coyote coming to you after being embedded recently in the harsh ravages of the northern Nevada Black Rock Desert. (Please send baby wipes! Our work ranch soldiers need baby wipes!)
Well, it seems that our unique and beloved event is now entering rock stardom, and, as all rock stars of fame, the cost is anonymity. Our ever-growing operation is starting to turn the heads of Nevada’s bureaucrats and their agencies.
I guess you could say that our project is reaching a sort of adolescence. It’s like our skeleton is growing too fast for itself. I remember when I was a string bean teen, my jaw was growing at a different rate than my skull. I had to sleep with a wine cork holding my mouth open to keep it from shutting and locking! It was a big hit with the girls. (Ever had your jaw lock while you were kissing? It’s a date ender, let me tell ya!)
Well, our crazy city is growing exponentially, and is continuing to heap stacks of yester-burns on a ranch that’s struggling to keep up. It was only a matter of time that the agencies started knock knockin’ with complaints from some local ranchers about the “eye sore” that is our work ranch. And yes, we are very liable.
eye.sore (i.sor)
n
1. A convenient phrase that can be attached to most anything to make a handle that can be easily be grasped.
2. A painful result from a fist fight.
* * *
A few columns back, (Coyote Nose – Zoned out!) I talked of the Zoning Commission trying to place us into some sort of category. Yea, right! Well, they’ve come up with a box set for the ranch that breaks down into four parts. That’s four permits, and four big fees:
– Custom manufacturing. We build stuff.
– Operable vehicle storage. We call ’em “art cars”
– Salvage. We call it art.
– Commercial camp ground. Move aside, KOA!
This whole thing actually works to our advantage as it will make living conditions at the ranch greatly improved. We’re talking power grid, running water, septic, showers, etc. It’s of course gonna take time and money, but can you just imagine?! It’s the tight timing that’s the painful part. They are indeed putting the screws to us, but all in all, our event is a solid benefit to the local community. We can and shall work it out.
So, nobody panic just yet. The whole switch-a-roo is slated roughly over a three year plan. It’s much too late for anything major to happen this season, so it’s business as usual for the most part.
One does have to marvel at the methods of a bureaucracy. They came to our home and knocked on our door. We showed them around the house where they told us we have to clean up our messy room, and then they are going to tag fees on the whole thing! Am I playing for the wrong team? naaaaah!
* * *
Speaking of eye sores – a buddy of mine has a salvage yard in the hills, and he was getting grief from his neighbors about his own “eye-sore”. He told his neighbor that he felt that his ugly kids were an eye-sore to him! He was saying that maybe there should be some zoning laws regarding ugly children, and that the neighborhood would certainly benefit from the enforcement of these laws! He’s a wild one.
And upon returning to the city, we started noticing that, well, there were eye-sores everywhere!! I guess we’re gonna need some sort of eye-sore chart.
* * *
So the gang at the work ranch has been cleaning up the messy ranch room and man, it’s mighty cleaned up out there! I was dragging my jaw around looking at how neat and straight everything was. It’s all stacked and bundled, up on palettes and labeled. I even saw a barrel that contained all the spare crutches, for christ sake! Now how does it happen that the ranch would amass a barrel of spare crutches? — not to mention Re-bar Rotunda, and Refrigerator Row. I am certain that I was looking at at least one thousand shin-biting, back-breaking, full-sweat man hours. Huge accolades to ranch manager Metric, and his rotating, rugged crew lads!! Looking good, esse!
* * *
On a more somber note, we lost a cool burner cat last week to a motorcycle wreak. His name was David Crusen, otherwise known as “Wavy Dave”, and was a key mover and shaker out at the very popular Duck Bar on the playa. Lord knows I greeted the dawn a few times at that place last year, and it’s people like Mr. Crusen that fuel the playa magic that we all whole-heartedly wallow in. Burn on, brother!
* * *
A little funny to leave you with – At the last Town Hall Meeting, LLC member Harley Dubois was chatting with a woman, whom Harley chose to keep anonymous. Harley was wondering if she was going out to work with the DPW again this year, to which the woman replied, “Oh, I dunno, that depends on if the Coyote is going to be wearing those same damn dirty shorts again or not!” OK, I get it, I’ll do some shopping.
All for now
Coyote Nose
