There are some wonderful folks who work as public servants in our great cities and towns.

Having established that, there is a series of busy intersections near our house whose traffic lights SEEM like they were programmed by a group of juvenile barn mice who have fallen into the moonshine. I wish I could’ve been there when whatever counsel came up with the plan:

“So, ladies and gentleman, next on the agenda, we need to decide how many vehicles our new lights will let through during rush hour. The chair recognizes the councilman from Rolling Hills.”

“Uh, yes, how many vehicles do we expect to be using those intersections at rush hour?”

“Well, our data shows that it will be around ten thousand.”

“OK, I see. I see. Well then may I suggest we let no more than . . . three vehicles through at a time?”

“That sounds reasonable to me. Does that include the seventeen vehicles stranded in the middle of the intersection at all times?”

“Let’s say…yes.”

“I’ve heard enough. Let’s put it to a vote and then get a Bloomin’ Onion.”


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