Monday, January 7, 2013

Up'Side Our Heads, Or, Like Lambs to Slaughter

It's actually less unsettling when a spade is called a spade.  Pussy-footing doesn't really do any good.  Yes, it is going to hurt.  What's that they say about when rape is inevitable?

It was church/school night at Planning and Zoning, and we were spared fanfare.  And kid gloves.  Michael Campo, the attorney for Ms Busta, the school Ma'rm, started to hem and haw a bit, before he realized he didn't have to.  There was no point.  The set-up was the team of planner David and attorney Boutsis, who are working for whom?, telling us we're getting a school, and there's no exemption or any other way out.  So Campo got up and delivered the focal point of what this is about: "The church needs money."  That's not too subtle, is it?  And Ms Busta got up and said she could have taken her show to any of a number of places, but she just likes the church.  So that was pretty much it.  She told us she would be willing to start with only about 25 kids, that 50 was a break even number for her, and that her ambition is 100 or so.  She started with a preschool in Miami Shores, then nursed it up to a full elementary school.  That's her plan here.  How young?, Doug Tannehill wanted to know.  Six weeks, Ms Busta replied.  And she doesn't want us calling this a day care, either.  It's pre-school.  She didn't say what the planned curriculum was for six week old pupils.  As I recall, feeding themselves and using the potty was way over their heads.

But some of us had a bit of protest left in us.  So what if the church needs money, and Ms Busta needs a place to run her operation.  Why is that Biscayne Park's problem?  Look here, you snotty weasels, said Mr Campo, let me tell you how it's gonna be.  You got two choices.  You'll take the "preschool," or you're getting a Charter School.  Do we understand each other?  The Most Reverend Father Cutie went to the same school for thugs.  You don't like your little Episcopal Church, you worms?  Fine, we'll sell the property to a "megachurch."  I put that in quotes, because that's the word he used.

The church stays, and we're installing a school.  Are we clear?  But nobody who allegedly wants a school is here, and the only people who are here don't want a school.  That must count for something, we pleaded.  F**k Y**, replied team Cutie/Campo/Busta.

So I guess we're getting a school.  But here's the bright side, according to Cutie, the charmer.  The church, our lovely little church, has been here for many, many years.  He thinks it's 65, but it's really 72.   Our Reverend has charm, and his little church has charm.  Campo says it serves our little Biscayne Park.  Well, of course it doesn't any more, or we wouldn't be having this conversation about what entity is going to provide the church money its few measly parishioners don't contribute.  But the history!  From a time long ago, when Biscayne Park was pure quaint.  We were a quiet and insular neighborhood, where there weren't even any sidewalks.  Or Jews.  Or black people.  And if anyone was gay, which they probably weren't, they made it their business to keep it very much to themselves.

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