By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
Congratulations, bikos. Soon you may well be pedaling down the edges of Dallas thoroughfares, safe in the knowledge that you're protected from Dodge Durangos, Dallas' insane, texting drivers and Texas' 135-degree heat by a sturdy white stripe of paint.
The Git While The Gittin's Good Award
"My heart's in Dallas," the then-Dallas Independent School District superintendent assured the city in September 2010, when he lost a bid for the super's job in Las Vegas and was awarded a three-year contract extension by DISD trustees. "My name is off the market."
His heart may be in Dallas, but his ass these days is behind a desk in Cobb County, Georgia. That's where he headed in June, taking with him a $200,000 Texas pension that, added to his reported $237,000 base salary in Georgia, netted him nearly $100,000 more income. Hinojosa said he left to be near his son and new grandbaby in Georgia, though we wonder what his excuse would have been if he had won the Vegas gig in 2010. Baby needs a new pair of shoes? His departure was his last great act as an educator in Dallas, where he faced mounting discontent from the fractious board, shrinking budgets and rising test standards. Offer a man a choice between a thankless job or a soft landing, and only a fool turns down the soft landing.
The Your Trash Ain't Nothin' But Cash Award
Mayor Mike Rawlins & The City Council
And finally, kids, a lesson in why it pays to read newspapers. If students at Paul Quinn College kept up with the news at City Hall, they might have saved themselves a trip downtown to attend the city council's vote last fall on "flow control," the city's euphemism for requiring private trash haulers to dump all the garbage they collect in Dallas in the city-owned landfill next to the college. The students had earnestness and social justice on their side. The city council had a pot of money from dumping fees in its grasp and a check ready to purchase the good will of one of those southern sector "leaders" whose "leadership" has made Paul Quinn's neighborhood what it is today — Dallas' dumping ground.
In other words, the students never stood a chance. Don't give up hope, though. The commercial trash haulers have money to hire lawyers, and they've taken the city to court. This is politics at work: The people speak, the money moves and the guys with the best lawyers win. Chins up, students. Unlike most little people who petition government, you received something valuable: an education.