Taos Rhymes with Chaos
Caveat: Listen to the last of the Chicano CAVE men (Citizens against virtually everything) on KTAO at 8:15 am Monday. Former Councilor Gene Sanchez will offer a soothing analysis of the town and coop take-over of the community.
The laws of science and the principles of finance appear to be in utter chaos this season. Bill Baron’s cartoon in last week’s local caught the tip of the six-shooter in the depiction of town and county leaders taking pot shots. The town drew first blood and the county is defending itself but as O-Rod said, “The County has no standing.” The conservatives at town hall and the republicans at the Coop believe in tax and spend, borrow and bend—ignore the people but pick their pockets. It’s a tea party nightmare: Chaos rhymes with Taos.
The county will meet on Monday morning at 9 am to consider its options regarding the town’s proposed relocation of the E911/Dispatch center to the Command Center. In siders at the Complex predict, “surrender.” Gabriel “The Good” Romero is the swing vote. (Former swing-vote Commissioner Virgil “I feel sorry for Taos County” is fighting a rear guard but losing effort at the Coop.) Count on Joe Mike Duran, aka Gravel Gertie, for a colorful quote in regard to los bandidos at town hall.
Despite a lack of scientific confirmation, town counselors claim that the current E911/Dispatch center on Civic Plaza Drive is plagued by asbestos so they want to relocate the operation to the Kit Carson Electric Cooperative (KCEC) Command Center on Gusdorf. The shell will require hundreds of thousands of dollars to renovate. The new facility will drive the costs of overhead operations up and up and up–though to make the community safer, personnel need more training, not fancier digs.
The town will meet on Tuesday at 6:30 pm to announce their final decision re: the Command Center movida and annexation of the airport. The meeting promises to be an exciting event.
Remember the crowd roaring, “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!” during the anti-Superwalmart days? Mayor Bobby Duran voted with Erlinda and Meliton to support his constituents and broke the tie to stop the behemoth: not so Rudy Walmart, Mr. Realtor.
Today, as Nervous Jervis says, “the fix is in.”
Behind the curtain KCEC CEO Luis Reyes and his rubber stampers are turning on the electricity and opening up the spigot for Los Politicos. The Coopsters desperately need a bailout, given the $80 million debt on their balance sheet. They are praying to the new winged technology, called Broadband, for some $60 million in doubloons to help “rescue me.”
The town is also poised to shoe-string in and annex the tiny airport–more than six miles from the historic Taos Plaza. Studies predict air traffic should rise dramatically and optimistically, at least 10 percent during the next decade or two, thanks to an investment of $24 million in taxpayer dough.
The El Prado community opposes annexation but so what?
We citizens must trust in the wise Fred Peralta and his vision; express our gratitude to the one-time Taos News “Man of the year,” Luis Reyes, and to Eliu Romero, founder of the Centinel Bank, who, according to the yellowed clips from The Taos News, served as town attorney during the condemnation of land for the airport during the first go-round, lo’ these many years ago in the sixties–back when Brian James, today’s town attorney, was in high school.
Ah yes, back then I used to get Eliu and Martin Vargas, town councilor and owner of Los Compadres confused.
Those who remember Bill Miller’s convenient dirt strip, just south of Walmart are also victims of nostalgia like me. Along with a pretty blond I watched the last big show, “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom,” projected on the big screen at Les Dollison’s Kit Carson Drive-In theatre. The magic of movies and high school love has been replaced by Rudy’s dream box, Walmart, a haven for shoppers, shoplifters, and politicos seeking more GRT.
What the heck, I miss late night burgers and fries with Saki Karavas and Floyd Garcia at the Bowling Alley. I miss seeing a real mayor like Rumaldo Garcia, who chased hippies and brown berets around town in his Scout. And I miss the last best judge, J.C. Montoya at the barbershop.
When brawlers or drunks appeared before the judge, he shrugged his shoulders, “clip, clip” and implied that boys will be boys, “clip, clip.” The fines ranged from $5 to $15, “clip, clip.” The judge merely acknowledged decisions and settlements concluded during street bouts the night before. In comparison to today’s commodification of justice, the system was way more fair for the average scofflaw–if you catch my drift.
Back then fugitive fliers like Airborne Fred Fair, no matter what the weather, didn’t need no stinkin’ crosswind runway. And the women applauded. And we had a good time.