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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1975-02-19, Page 2WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 19,1975 , BRUSSELS. ONTARIO Serving Brussels and the surrounding community. Published each Wednesday afternoon at Brussels, Ontario by McLean Bros. Publishers, Limited. Evelyn Kennedy Editor . Dave Robb Advertising Member Canadian Community Newspaper Association and Ontario Weekly Newspaper Association. Subscriptions advance) Canada $6.00 a year, Others CCNA $8.00 a year, Single Copies 15 cents each. VE RIFI@(pJ GIR cULAT1on, hS C of •CN A Brussels Post isTABLANED Complain out loud fo th ai th to pl 131 P11 tli in 111 S p St g 1. rc Sugar and Spice By Bill Smiley A government is only as good as the people who elect it. It's an old cliche, but it's true. We all can and do grouch about the actions or inaction of our local councils but who elected them? We did. Complaining about the quality of local government on the street corner is easy, and we all indulge in it. But people with the courage to go to a village council like ours with beefs, and constructive ideas for correcting them, are -few and far betWeen. This newspaper is always glad to print signed, unlibellous letters to the editors in which local people air their complaints but too few people choose this way of getting their views across to fellow citizens. The Post is considering printing a "Town Topics" or "Voice of the People" column every week in which local people would be asked to state their views on a subject of current interest in the village. The topics would not always be controversial, but some would be. The newspaper would use pictures of the local people who are interviewed and everyone must agree to give their name to the "roving reporter". We would be very pleased to have comments on whether or not this type of column, would be of interest. Last week an informal poll of some Brusels people on the subject "What do you think of our current council?" got some interesting responses.The responses ranged from "If they keep this up we'll be the laughing stock of Huron County" to "It's too early to know what's going to happen. It's new blood and things are bound to be stirred up" and "I think the council is alright. They are stirring things up quite a bit." We couldn't run the responses as a column or news story though, because none of those who were willing to talk were *willing to have their names . printed. Council members, except when they have an )ccasional closed meeting, speak in the open, with the press there,to report what they say. It is only fair that those who have criticism or comments to make also make them in public. The duties of a voter in our society do not.end with casting a ballot. We still have to keep informed about local government, to attend council meetings and pass our comments and wishes on to the people we elect to do our civic business. In many small towns, people do not seem to know that council meetings are open to the public and that anyone has every right to attend.T.he only exception occurs when a council who might be discussing, for example, sensitive salary negotiations or personnel matters, declares a particular meeting in camera, that is off limits to both spectators and the press. It always amazes newspaper people that council meetings in most municipalities rarely have spectators.The - presence of many interested observers at such a meeting is usually an indication of a lively and interested community. Complaints have been made in Brussels that the local council chamber (it doubles as the clerk's office) doesn't have much room for observers who dislike having to sit on the far side of the office counter while the council deliberates around the council table on the other side. We are sure though, that if spectators attended regularily, seats could be set up for them on the council side of the counter, A council is only as good as the guidance it gets from its citizens. Open public discussion of "beefs" can only help to Make Brussels a better place to live. I think we'll all agree that there is nothing quite so downright miserable and annoying as the person who delights in saying "I told you so." Certainly, all married men will agree with me. Most of us know perfectly well that we arc poor little iambs who have lost our way, that we have feet of clay and bones for brains. But we hate being reminded of it. It seems to me that there is nothing more redundant than to wake up with a hangover, mouth full of the bottom of a birdcage, head full of porcupine quills,, and have a smirking, self-satisifed voice grating "Well, I warned you, but you wouldn't listen to me." Who needs it? Who needs a post- mortem, when he is still alive, though bar. ely? I speak not from experience, of course, but from hearsay. Not admissib le in court. After that preamble, I have to admit that I told you so. I told the whole nation so:, But nobody listened. It must have been a couple of years ago, when I warned, in no uncertain terms, that the rest of us were going to be picking up the tabs for Napoleon Drapeau's belief that he is really a reincarnation of the infamous emperor. Or maybe it's Caesar -he thinks he is. Cert ainly he is giving us members of the populace bread and circuses, as Cesar did. Mighty light on the bread and heavy on the circuses. I said it right here, in black and white, that the mayor of Montreal was going to take us for a fast buggy-ride, when he got the Olympic Games. For Canada? Don't be silly. For Montreal. The handwriting is now on the wall, loud and clear. And as fast as M. Drapeau rubs it off, or licks it off with his eloquent labial organ, it reappears. It seems inevitable that you and I., sistern and brethren, are going to, be picking up a big, fat tab for the 1976 Montreal Games. And games is the word, if the Olympics consist of running in ever-decreasing circles until you disappear up your own .you-know-what. Let's not blame it on the construction strikes in Montreal. Let's not blame it on inflation. Let's blame the $300 million dollar deficit (and who knows how much more?) , on the delusions of grandeur of the rolyiest-polyiest con man since P.T. Barnum made that immortal statement: "Never give a sucker an even break." Hank Bourassa of Quebec and Pete Trudeau of Ottawa knew they were dealing with a gr eased eel when they tangled with Drapeau, but all they did was make polite political noises, assuring the stickers that it wasn't going to cost- more than maybe seven cents each to put on this extravagorama. Some of us, those possessing the gift, and a memory, knew perfectly well that we were going to be reamed like an old pipe, but they wouldn't listen. Oh, well, what the hell. A prophet- is without honor in his own country. You in your small corner, and I in mine. My severest critic of my point of view is not my wife, as is most often the case. She thinks the Games are something the teenagers play down at the Olympia restaurant. The only connection is that the proprietors of the Olympia are Greek. No, my chief opposition comes from my assistant department head, which only confirms my long-held view that she is bigoted, thick-headed, disloyal to her chief, and a lousy shuffleboard player. Her argument goes like this: `,`The Olympic Games are for all of Canada. Why shouldn't all Canadians help pay for them?" Well, she's all wet, in which s•he wouldn't weigh 85 pounds, soaking. Nobody asked me if I wanted the stupid Olympic Farce in Canada. And even though I wasn't asked, I said NO. By me, the Olympic Games consist of someone proving that he or she can do something completely useless better than anyone else. If Mayor Drapeau had shown any desire to clean up Montreal, which has the worst slums, the worst sewage system, probably the highest crime rate in Canada, I'd buy a whole ten-dollar lottery ticket, instead of splitting one 10 ways. He's not interested. he wants coliseums, palaces, and probably wouldn't object to a few graven images of himself scattered about the city. Did you notice that when the Olympic Committee was on the edge of the abyss, looking into it, there wasn't exactly a scramble among the world's nations to pick up the tab? The only tentative offer was from the Arab swingers, who are in similar circumstances to the old lady who lived in a shoe. They have so many barrels they don't know what to do. Admitted, barrels are better than children these days, but there's a limit. Say. Pardon me for a moment. Just had a thought. Those Arabs are buying up practically anything these days. Wonder if they'd be interested in some fine moose pasture I own up north. Used to be called mining stocks, ,Probably not, However, maybe, they'd take a flyer on a pure-bred hybrid cat. Half wolf, half pig. And by golly ; the price is right.This vin, this jewel, this loving, lovable creation is going for four quarts of oil and a otiebillionth share in the Holy Old Ei•NuPotWi°,nhoOvvil dCidotnI Pgaent ?Ta.Way off here in the oil fields? Let's see: Trucleati, oily Bourassa, oilier. Drapeau, A Simple matter of conjugation: • II-el h• h; b pl Ii, tl- P P1 in; of p al in T nl ai b, C tl tl V c( a