Haunted by ghosts of Christmas past, forget the ghosts of Christmas future, for it’s the ghosts of Christmas present that may well be the scariest of that famous trio.
We all should know the scientific principle that hot air rises. If you’d like to see a working example of that principle, simply stop by City Hall any day of the week. The fires may start downstairs in the Alcazar Room where city boards and committees hold their public meetings, but the heat and smoke definitely makes its way to the building’s top floor before it escapes to the rest of the world.
The disconcertingly familiar strains of the Battle Hymn of the Republic echo through the narrow halls; reminding us that we are standing where the grapes of wrath are stored. Office after office, peppered with the downhearted, tortured by a legion of hobgoblins choking on that vintage of sour grapes.
“For your consideration,” Rod Serling used to say as he led his audience into the Twilight Zone. You are never more than three votes away from another episode with a macabre and twisted conclusion. We seem to be reminded of that every other Monday evening.
The tricks from 75 King are many, but this year, there are a couple of treats. I can’t guarantee there won’t be toilet paper in the trees this year, or nymphs from Flagler College skinny dipping in the fountains, but I can guarantee one treat — we will no longer have to suffer the excruciating stream of propaganda from the “450th” commemoration department.
Another treat, the Zombie Apocalypse is over; and, as predicted, nothing has changed except the size of our bank account. I guess Otto Lightner had his hobbies, too. But he indulged his with his own money. The stewards of his legacy have their hands in the pocket of every taxpayer in the city.
Just remember the words of Jacob Marley’s ghost, “I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it, link by link, yard by yard.”
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