Generating heat

JUST GOT BACK from the board meeting. Nothing major occurred, far as I know (I showed up a half hour late, so maybe someone went postal, but I didn't spot any bodies).

One thing for sure, though. This is one dysfunctional board. They were sniping at each other all night. They were hissin' and spittin' and lookin' ugly too.

At one point, Trustee Don Wagner seemed to point to Trustee Nancy Padberg and call her a "trollop." Well, no, but he did say that she was the one causing lots of problems with the agenda and with clueless yappage, and, boy, is everybody sick and tired of it, he said. You know how Don gets.

She gave 'im the stink eye, which is a terrible thing, accompanied by a hollow Padbergian laugh. Yikes!

It's hard to believe that these two--Don and Nancy--blew in together, back in '98, basing their candidacy on opposition to the "El Toro Airport" (ha!) and funding their campaign with corrupt rat bastardular Old Guard union cash. Back then, they seemed like twins, even though Don's a good deal taller. But, sheesh, I think Don and Nancy need to be kept on opposite sides of the building from now on. Plus Don better watch his back.

These days, everybody's got ATEP on the brain, and, on Feb. 1, there'll be a special meeting in which various proposals (for partnerships with SOCCCD at the old Tustin base) will be discussed. At tonight's meeting, a group that had submitted one of the proposals was allowed to make a half-hour presentation. Technical difficulties messed it up pretty good--there was a weird Morse Code of buzzing. I gather, though, that the proposal was something about incubating small businesses down in Little Saigon.

Lots of fed money is involved. I mean LOTS. Shitloads.

I think the Academic Senate Presidents got a little leery, though, when the Asian woman who did the talking for this group spoke of the special courses that would be taught. Who would generate these courses exactly? I mean, who's in charge of course development, anyway? You guys?


Vice Chancellor Serban gave a great report on student transfers, in effect making a case for the burning of the Register building down in Santa Ana. I think a mob's headed there right now, shouting: "Transfer rate? We'll show you our stinkin' transfer rate!"

Well, let's see, what else happened? At the December meeting, Chancellor Raghu Mathur showed up with an armful of nasty little suggestions as to how to streamline board meetings, and that generated lots of heat. Somehow, those same suggestions and that same heat showed up for this meeting.

On and on they went. Should the college presidents and the governance groups give reports, or should they just shut the **** up? The Board Majority (Lang, Wagner, Fuentes, Williams) opted for the latter. The minority preferred the former.

John Williams brought talking points--two of them, cuz he's got a very small brain--and he repeated them interminably: (1) Let's give Raghu's ideas a shot, why don't we?! (2) Nancy Padberg sure is a trollop!

Well, no, he didn't say that 2nd one, but he sure was thinking it. I believe that the 2nd talking point was that this is a meeting of the board, not of those other guys, so screw 'em. Besides, I wanna go to Orlando and spend some taxpayer money!

Well, that's my report. Hope it helped. I'll have more tomorrow, when I've recovered from the effects of one super-cold beer on one super-tired brain.

And Spanky: you know. Be good, be happy.

Carp, carp, carp

I WALKED through the A200 “faculty lounge” this morning at about 9:30, and what did I find? Aha! Furniture! True, it was wrapped in hideous stinky plastic. And yes, it sat upon the world’s harshest, ugliest, linoleumist floor.

BUT THERE WAS FURNITURE! NEW FURNITURE!

An hour and a half later, I was back, and they (whoever they are) had unwrapped and positioned the furniture. I stopped and beheld the scene. “Well, it’s a start,” I said to myself. I went to get my camera. In the hallway, I ran into Mr. M, who said, “Thank you, Mr. Squeaky Wheel!”

“You’re welcome,” I said. In truth, I have been but one of a chorus of squeaky wheels, and by no means the squeakiest. Rebel Girl, for one, has squealed and screeched numerous decibels higher and longer than me.

I happened to catch the eye of a nearby denizen who complained that the furniture was “ugly.” “Plus,” she added, “what about that horrible unmatched tile on the other side of the room!”

Well, yes, there’s that. Who would even think to do this and call it “tile replacement”? A monkey, maybe.

And plainly we need an area rug. That linoleum is shitulistic. Vomitous, even. Sure, sure.

But step back and receive the gestalt. Experience the spankin-new-roomedness of the scene! Is it really so bad?

“Yeah, now that we’ve got some decent furniture, the walls, in contrast, look like total crap,” said Mr. D, peevishly. “We’re gonna have to paint ‘em, that’s what!”

“Yeah,” said someone else, unpleasantly.

OK, I guess so.

Carp, carp, carp.

I found a quiet moment and, alone in the room, I sat upon one of the chairs.

“Not bad,” I said. “Not bad at all.”