The Hammer

The Hammer, Vol. XXXIV

Autumn-time, and the 'Ham is spicy
September 7, 2022 at 5:00 a.m.

Executive Editor

Ah, the Sweet Smell of Fall: Footballs being kicked. School buses clogging streets. And ineffectual mid-management suckups at the local university returning from Maui, re-committed to lowering the bar. Let pumpkin spice season begin!

Speaking of Spice: Like most newsrooms, CDN gets accused of being all sorts of things (noteworthy of late, having "alt-right ties" and also being a leftist conspiracy). Normally we don't discuss these things in public, but we do have a couple clear staff biases: As a rule, we are mostly pro-pumpkin spice and anti-IPA. Sorry, not sorry.

And Speaking of Fog: Note to the public works folks for the City of Sub-Dude: The last time you repainted the fog lines on Samish Way, heading south out of town, it surely caused quite the backup — of folks on horseback.

Seriously: Not only does the city fail to provide speed control, with many cars routinely careening over 55 mph downhill into the city, they still routinely drift 4 feet outside the lane of travel, into the space occupied by pedestrians, cyclists and motorists edging out of their driveways to enter traffic. 

You’d Think That: The tragic death of a gentleman on a lawn tractor in this very spot some months ago might’ve spurred some traffic-safety improvements here. Nope! Who’s next?

Which Is One Way of Saying: Don’t be surprised if the curbside insurrections, with folks taking street matters into their own hands, spreads to other venues. It’s a natural human reaction to danger and bureaucratic inertia and/or indifference.

Fresh Air By Any Other Name: Call them parklets, call them streateries, call them shanties if you want, but in any case, some of us are happy to see outside seating at downtown restaurants as one of the very few good things arising from pandemic restrictions. Hamsters, if anything, are used to bracing against the cold — even if it is from a cold shoulder of a recent Seattle import (! )And besides, it gives us all a good excuse to wear that Ice Station Zebra 800-fill down parka once in a while without roasting to death.

Credit Where Due: In this case, the city seems to be doing the smart thing by addressing the shed-like structures' greatest flaws — haphazard, cheap design that in some cases makes city streets look like flea markets; and safety issues arising from placement, as first documented here

The Poop Problem: As expected, the city’s Post Point project, now located squarely in the Boondoggle Neighborhood, has entered the “halt” phase, with much puckering down on Lottie Street as the “What now?” question takes the mic. We hate to say it — who are we kidding, we actually have been awaiting an excuse — it seems like an appropriate time for a guest visit from Victoria’s Mister Floatie, the costumed, walking-turd character who haunted city officials up north for years over their insistence to keep on pumpin' city sewage straight into the Strait. 

Say What You Will About: Floatie’s choice of evening wear. The idea was to get attention. Attention was gotten. The city, population roughly 400,000, finally has a modern treatment facility. (Price tag: $775 million; did they get off cheap?) 

The Hammer is swung on Wednesdays and updated when the mood strikes.

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