Don't Ever Rent from Budget

After a long flight from Phoenix to Pittsburg I went to the Budget Car rental counter to pick up a Toyota Tacoma. I needed the truck with four wheel drive because I was going to visit a difficult place to get to in the hills of West Virginia. My mission was to go to a memorial for my older brother who recently died. 

When I arrived at the Budget counter there was a long line of frustrated people waiting to get cars. After about an hour it was my turn. The Budget people explained some employees did not show up for work, so they were understaffed. I was then told the truck I reserved was not available and I could not get a truck. Budget assigned me a car. After I made the trip to the garage where I was to pick up the car I again found people waiting. It was a warm day and everyones frustration was increasing with the poor service.  After another frustrating wait the manager of the car dispersement system told another pissed off customer that he would award them two free days of rental. Next I asked him for the same treatment. He agreed. 

I expected Budget to honor what he said, but later found out Budget had no intention of honoring what the man said. I corresponded with Budget and was told I needed proof the man made that deal. How in the hell would I prove it. I had no idea that at the time I should have told the man " Put that in writing".  I was already two hours late because of Budget's poor service, now I have to fight them? 

Budget has a simple way to get the proof they need. Budget can call Budget at the Pittsburg airport and ask the man who made the promise. Simple, but no the cheap bastards want to screw me. 

Fix the Future

Keep the Malibu Property for Payson’s Future

Payson’s newly elected council has an opportunity to look beyond short-term fixes and make decisions that will serve the community for generations. Fiscal responsibility is important, but saving money today can become very expensive when a temporary solution fails to meet tomorrow’s needs.

Repairing the aging Taylor Pool may appear to be the least expensive option, but it is a short-term answer to a long-term problem. Payson will continue to grow, and that growth will require additional recreational facilities, public services and infrastructure.

The town already owns approximately 21 acres along Malibu Drive next to the existing municipal complex. This property should not be sold or committed to private development. It should be preserved for a carefully planned civic campus.

A new aquatic center could be the first phase. Its parking could later serve an indoor recreation center and other public facilities. A shared building could provide locker rooms, showers and restrooms for the pool, recreation center and outdoor facilities. Water, sewer, utilities, maintenance and access roads could also be planned together.

Clustering public facilities is generally more efficient than scattering them across town and duplicating parking, utilities and support services at every location. Thoughtful planning now could save Payson millions of dollars in the decades ahead.

The new council is not obligated to continue every proposal advanced by the previous council. It has both the authority and the responsibility to reconsider those plans in light of Payson’s long-term interests.

The Malibu property is a rare public asset. Once it is sold or developed for another purpose, it may never be recovered. Payson should keep it, plan it carefully and preserve it for the community’s future.

Busted Flat in Payson

 Busted flat in Payson

Waiting for the rain

Steve Otto's hope for victory

Went down the drain.

Pornography at the library

another Jim Ferris dream

Things at the Tea Party 

Are never what they seem. 

KMOG sang every lie

The Tea Party knew

The red town 

 Up and voted blue

What in the hell

Could Charlie Bell do?

People smiled 

Then they screamed

The Tea Party was gone

Is what they dreamed.

 

Payson is rid of the stooges

The Three Stooges Are Gone. Now the Real Work Begins.

Payson voters have spoken, and the political landscape has changed. With Brett Flaherty elected mayor, the town now has an opportunity to move beyond the divisions that have consumed so much time and energy.

For all the money spent and all the accusations that were thrown around, the Three Stooges ultimately could not convince the people of Payson. In the end, voters looked past the rhetoric and made their own decision about the direction they wanted their community to take.

If there was one turning point, it was the attack on the library. What may have been intended as a political rallying point became a rallying cry for those who believed the library should remain a place of learning rather than a political battlefield. Jim Ferris's angry outburst and dramatic exit from the council meeting only reinforced the impression that emotion had replaced reason. Instead of strengthening their cause, it became a self-inflicted wound that many voters remembered.

Elections are about choices, but they are also about accountability. Payson has now made its choice.

The challenge ahead is not to relive old political fights or settle scores. It is to restore trust in local government, encourage respectful debate, and focus on the issues that matter most—public safety, responsible growth, fiscal stewardship, strong town services, and preserving the quality of life that makes Payson such a special place to live.

Winning an election is only the beginning. Governing well is the real test.

The Three Stooges have had their day. Now it is time for Payson to look forward instead of backward and build a future that benefits the entire community.

Back in Hillbilly land

 

Kadizzle's Journey Back Into the Hills

Kadizzle took a strange journey yesterday into the hills of Ritchie County, West Virginia. One thing kept catching the eye over and over again—the trees.

West Virginia is slowly becoming what it was when the first settlers arrived. For nearly a century, the forests have been reclaiming the land. Fields that once grew corn, hay, and cattle are now swallowed by towering hardwoods. Nature has quietly taken back what man once cleared.

Kadizzle stopped at the old farm where so many summer days were spent growing up. It sat a hundred miles from our home in Wheeling, yet it felt like a second home. Trees that we planted as tiny seedlings are now giants—seventy feet tall and nearly two feet in diameter. In many places the forest has become so thick it rivals a jungle, hiding old roads, fence lines, and memories beneath a blanket of green.

But the drive down the Ohio River brought another surprise.

Contrary to the image many people have of West Virginia, the communities along the river did not appear trapped in poverty. The chemical plants were operating, coal country still showed signs of life, and what struck Kadizzle most were the homes. Yards were neatly trimmed. Houses were well cared for. The towns looked cleaner and more orderly than they did decades ago.

It was a mystery.

What had changed? Had people simply taken greater pride in their communities? Or perhaps those endless forests were hiding the abandoned places that once seemed to dot every hillside. Whatever the reason, it wasn't the West Virginia Kadizzle remembered.

While waiting in Harrisville for the rest of the family to catch up, Kadizzle wandered into the Ritchie County Courthouse to look up old mineral rights records. Walking through the courthouse felt like stepping back in time. Very little has changed since the building was completed in the 1920s. While browsing through historical displays, Kadizzle stumbled onto an unexpected fact—the courthouse was designed by architects from Wheeling. It's a small reminder of how connected the communities of West Virginia once were.

Then it was on to Hazel Green.

The old country store now stands abandoned, another casualty of changing times. But just up the hollow, the Bird family was sitting on the porch.

That stopped Kadizzle in his tracks.

His nephew Kevin mentioned that Roger Bird wanted to talk. Suddenly decades melted away. Roger remembered playing ball with Kadizzle and his brother. Kadizzle couldn't recall those games, but Roger could.

Back then, we were the city kids from Wheeling, and to the Bird family we must have seemed as out of place as visitors from another planet.

The Birds are living pieces of Appalachian history. Roger and his brother grew up in the old house high in the hollow, without electricity and largely cut off from the outside world. Somehow, someone eventually managed to gravel the road to their home. Beyond that point, however, the road to our old farm has surrendered to time. Today it is little more than a rugged trail. Unless you have a capable four-wheel-drive vehicle—or better yet, a side-by-side—you aren't making it very far.

Standing there, surrounded by towering timber and old memories, Kadizzle couldn't help but feel that he had traveled much farther than one hundred miles.

He had traveled back in time.

More later...

I want to wake up in the morning where the rhododendron grows.

 

Whistledicks and Conniption Fits

Old Kadizzle will soon be heading back to the hills of West Virginia, and it has me thinking about the colorful characters and even more colorful language I grew up with.

My brother and I spent many hot summer days putting up hay for an old hill farmer named Lutrel Davis. Lutrel owned the kind of country store you hardly see anymore. There was a pot-bellied stove where the old-timers gathered to swap stories, solve the world's problems, and invent a few new ones. If you wanted to learn the mountain vocabulary, all you had to do was pull up a chair.

Lutrel had a favorite word that always made me laugh.

"Whistledick."

He used it to describe someone who wasn't exactly blessed with an abundance of common sense. Nobody seems to know where the word came from, but folks in the hills always knew exactly what it meant.

That sent Kadizzle down the rabbit hole looking up old Appalachian expressions. Along the way I stumbled across another classic: conniption fit—a dramatic outburst of anger when someone doesn't get their way.

Then it hit me.

Those two old mountain expressions came together perfectly at the last Payson Town Council meeting.

Councilman Jim Ferris threw what can only be described as a first-class conniption fit after his latest attempt to defund the library went nowhere. When the votes didn't go his way, he stormed out of the meeting and slammed the door behind him.

Back in Lutrel Davis's country store, the old-timers would have smiled, nodded, and said, "Looks like that whistledick just had himself a conniption fit."

Some words never go out of style.

Ferris Explodes

Ferris Storms Out

Last night's Payson Town Council meeting ended with an unexpected bit of political theater.

Councilman Jim Ferris didn't just lose the vote—he lost his temper. After seeing it become clear that the council was rejecting another effort aimed at the library, Ferris stormed out of the meeting and slammed the door behind him. It was a dramatic ending to a campaign that has repeatedly failed to gain support.

The strategy has become familiar. First came claims that the library contained "pornography." That accusation went nowhere because the facts didn't support it. Rather than moving on, Ferris and his allies shifted to a new controversy, raising fears about drag queen story hours and suggesting the library should be punished financially because of positions taken by national library organizations.

The problem is that this argument attempts to solve an issue that doesn't exist in Payson. It's a political formula seen often in recent years: create a controversy, amplify public outrage, and then present yourself as the person who will fix it. When the controversy falls apart, simply move on to the next one.

Fortunately, a majority of the Town Council refused to take the bait. They voted against the proposal, choosing to focus on the actual operation of Payson's library rather than national political talking points.

Ferris frequently presents himself as a man guided by Christian values. Every voter is free to decide whether his conduct at the meeting reflected those values. Storming out of a public meeting after failing to persuade your colleagues does not strike many people as an example of patience, humility, or respectful leadership.

In the end, the loudest statement of the evening wasn't made from the council dais. It was the sound of the council chamber door slamming shut behind a frustrated councilman.