Angela, I was there. I saw everything. I know what they're doing. I am on my way. One way or another, I will get there, and I will exert myself and do whatever it takes to rescue your husband, even if it means waking up the next morning with extreme muscle soreness. I will not let them get away with this.
I sat through today's council meeting on "flow control" -- the thing where they are going to order all the commercial trash haulers to bring their trucks to the city-owned landfill instead of hauling their trash out of town to cheaper dumps in the suburbs. The city hopes to cop a bunch of extra dumping fees out of this, and if the process turns the landfill into the Mount Shasta of trash, so what? That'll be years from now.
The city figures the same future generation that's supposed to solve the problems of Social Security and the independent state of Palestine can clean up the world's biggest city dump.
I heard Oak Cliff council member Scott Griggs give a great 30-second explanation of why flow control is bullshit. I heard Lakewood council member Sheffie Kadane propose a compromise to study the thing. But then Mayor Mike Rawlings, cackling and rubbing his hands in glee, said it was all about a business deal and all he cared about was the dump money.
Dump money! Dump money! Show me the dump money [horrendous shrieking laughter]! (I paraphrase.) He also said the taxpayers are stupid and don't understand anything. (I paraphrase again.)
When I heard that, I knew ... I just KNEW ... that you were about to ride in on your Angela Hunt horse and whup up on everybody. Obviously you, the iconic maverick and lone crusader for truth and good, were not going to just sit there like some regular old Dallas City Council member and let the mayor insult the voters that way, not to mention leaving your friend Griggs with his rear end hanging out over the end of the limb without a supporter.
But you were silent! Silent! I kept stretching my neck to look at you, which, by the way, is not my best pose. But I didn't care. I had to see what was wrong.
We Believe Local Journalism is Critical to the Life of a City
Engaging with our readers is essential to the Observer's mission. Make a financial contribution or sign up for a newsletter, and help us keep telling Dallas's stories with no paywalls.
Support Our Journalism
You were staring at your hands. And then ... oh my God! ... NO! ... NO! ... Yes! ... You voted with the mayor! You were the swing vote, in fact. You single-handedly put flow control over the top.
And that's when the light bulb came on. Of course! I had been so blind. How could I have failed to see it sooner? They have your husband in a basement somewhere bound to a chair and wired up with plastic explosives. Had you so much as lifted a little finger, Paul would have become wallpaper.
I know that's it. It has to be something like that. Otherwise ... well, there's just no explanation otherwise, not one that wouldn't be a pretty big crisis for me. Just thinking about it is already giving me restless leg syndrome.
No, they've got him. I know they do. Nothing less could silence you, let alone make you vote for this. I am on the case, Angela. I shall find Paul, and I shall free him. This is my solemn vow. Then you can get back on your horse. Right?