Tasers stayed holstered, but an energetic group of protesters locked-out of CPS Energy’s board meeting Tuesday raised a holy ruckus after being told they couldn’t come in to observe the scheduled vote committing the City-owned utility to a double-portion of new nuke power.
Instead, with about half of the fully-seated, 80-something capacity room filled with CPS’s own, the group of regional residents were asked to view the meeting on closed-caption video from the front lobby. They weren’t havin’ it.
SA Parks Police and SAPD ringed the group before a CPS exec struck a deal, turning the media room over to the protestors. While industry and utility types pegged the group as outside agitators, the majority was from San Antonio. Folks from the uranium mining communities of Goliad and Kingsville also attended to warn CPS about the risks uranium mining and processing.
We couldn’t find State Representative Joe Straus, just honored by the state Sierra Club for his expansion of energy efficiency in the state. Heck, we couldn’t find any elected reps outside Hardy. Certainly none lined up to speak the way they were so eager to for Homeland Security’s proposed National Bio- and Agro-Defense Facility recently. We counted 22 nuke-opposed; three deluded. Still, no surprised faces lit when the 5-0 vote came down in nuke future’s favor. Queque, for one, smells turbulence ahead.
If an uncovered cave reportedly stalling construction at PGA Marriott is anything like the U.S.-Mex borderland under siege by Homeland Security, Hardy and Co. will soon be filling in the limestone chasm with Quikrete.
Here’s the play: Homeland Security Czar Michael Chertoff decreed any delay in fence building across Arizona’s San Pedro Riparian National Conservation Area an “unacceptable risk” to national security. Good intelligence suggests liberty-loving javelina (those fearsome beasts your own Queque was scrapping with over graham-cracker rights last weekend in the Davis Mountains) are planning a massive migration into El Norte. Driving them? The seasonal sacrificial rite represented by timed corn feeders rising across the Southwest. If security is involved, then we fully expect Mayor Hardberger (given his new radioactive devotion to oversized solutions) to take a page from Chertoff’s playbook and plug the damn PGA hole. Especially after all the trouble we went through ignoring arguments about pouring fertilizer into our drinking water in the first place. World-class golf is vital to SA’s economic security, ese. And if we aren’t fleecing the white collars in the room, you know, where would we be? Well, yeah, San Antonio, of course. But in a creepy cave with javelina instead of on a golf course with cigar-waving sprawl specialists, and how lame would that be? Wait a minute, it’s starting to smell like the Davis Mountains.
On the Amend
Finally, has Queque got a proposition for you!
We managed to gloss over 16 constitutional amendments on November’s ballot and we have a tip: None of ’em are worth a rat’s nut — even if you can decipher ’em.
For instance, how would you like to see that “maximum appraised value of a residence homestead for ad valorem taxation is limited to the lesser of the most recent market value of the residence homestead as determined by the appraisal entity or 110 percent, or a greater percentage, of the appraised value of the residence homestead for the preceding tax year,” as Prop 3 would allow? What? Too lean for you?
Maybe we should allow small-town voters “to enter into an agreement with an owner of real property in or adjacent to an area in the municipality that has been approved for funding under certain programs administered by the Texas Department of Agriculture under which the parties agree that all ad valorem taxes imposed on the owner’s property may not be increased for the first five tax years after the tax year in which the agreement is entered into”?
Aha! You’re skimming too.
But even barring such opulent massacres of conversational tongue, here’s the meteoric meat of the matter. Scroll down with us to Prop 7, which would allow the state to sell back the land they stole from you through eminent domain to your grandkids for the same amount they paid you for it when you were, like, living. Thank heaven for small favors.
Then there is Prop 10, doing away with the cherished position of Inspector of Hides and Animals. Yeah, there should be a law — I mean, amendment.
And since SCHIP-faced Congress members can’t seem to bleed any of the hundreds of billions of Iraq war money into life-saving industries like cancer research in this great nation, Prop 15 would approve $3 billion in bonds for a Cancer Prevention and Research Institute of Texas. Better check that interest rate.
Now if we can’t pay and play fair without castles of parchment that outweigh the U.S. Constitution 100,000 to one, perhaps it’s time Texas became that “whole other country.” All that paper would make a great plug for the PGA hole. And the scraps from Hardberger’s nukes could help us dirty-bomb our way into the international fear and loathing racket. It seems to work for North Korea. •