Forgive me this week if I’m a bit all over the road like someone coming back from the Mullet Toss. There are just a few odds, ends and random thoughts for this week.
• Driving east on the Causeway Sunday and looking at the west-bound lanes of the “Jubilee Parkway” — aka Bayway — stacked up with vehicles trying to get through our monument to George Wallace’s colon, I couldn’t help thinking it’s time to get the bridge project started. You know the bridge of which I speak — the one we’ve been talking about building over the Mobile River for 20 years.
It’s time kids. The traffic coming across the Bayway, especially during the summer, is ridiculous. Frankly I consider going through the Wallace Tunnel on weekends this time of year to be a certain sign of insanity. Or at least of an addiction to car fumes and traffic jams.
I know there is some opposition to various routes for the bridge, but this diddling around has to end. Let’s put a big, awesome-looking bridge across the skyline. Add on bike lanes and a McDonald’s and bungee jumping. Hell we could even hang Fred’s MoonPie from it too. It’ll be great.
Wallace is routinely close to double what was considered max capacity when it was finished in 1973. Unless the mythical “high-speed ferries” come save us soon, it’s time for a bridge.
• Suddenly I’m feeling more excited about Barbara Drummond and Sam Jones being on the MAWSS board. I was all set to complain about this giant hole MAWSS has left in the middle of my street for the past couple of months, when — like magic — it was finally filled in right before we went to press.
This hole was big enough that I was terrified it’s would serve as a portal for a subterranean army of giant ants to take over the city. But I did enjoy swerving around the several black and white MAWSS signs falling into the pit.
Now the hole is filled. Coincidence? I think not. Sam/Babs – 1, Giant Ants – 0.
• I’m not going to name names, but there is a young woman who has run for and lost both statewide and local races for at least four different positions over the past several years. It might be time to call Jeffrey Jones and find out how he finally decided to stop becoming a perennial candidate. Then again, the presidential primaries aren’t far off.
• Honestly, until Dale Liesch wrote his story for us last week about the drug “spice,” I really didn’t have much idea what it was. But even if you watched “Breaking Bad” like me and are a certified expert on meth production, it somehow suddenly seems better than spice.
I guess that part about spraying Raid all over the leaves got to me. Finally the Southern analogy “crazy as a sprayed roach” comes into play — sort of I guess. The idea of smoking roach spray just seems completely outside the realm of anything that might be pleasurable. Perhaps if you chase it with a shot of flea powder it’s really something to write home about.
You also have to wonder how many things under the sink people have used to try to catch a buzz? Pledge, Draino and Brillo pads may combine to be the next big thing.
• I’m bummed about one of my favorite restaurants closing next week. True’s Midtown Kitchen was a place that offered some really creative cuisine. I’m really not sure why things didn’t work out.
I’ve never had a bad meal there and most of the time I’ve had dishes that were amazing. The staff and owners hustled, and they even had cool cabaret-style events routinely with great music and grub.
We missed one here Mobile. This was something different. The ownership and staff can hold their heads high regardless of the outcome.
• Those of us who still have our fathers around should take a few minutes this Sunday and reflect on what it means to be a dad. Along with the myriad things it takes to raise children, perhaps setting an example may be the toughest.
I probably don’t do the best in that arena sometimes, but I’ve seen how it should be done. My own father — and mother as well — has led a life that still serves as an example to me and my siblings, as well as a high water mark for what we ought to be doing.
Thanks for the thousands of baseballs caught, fishing trips and conversations about life. I’ve always thought I won the parental lottery and couldn’t be more proud of you. Happy Father’s Day. I’ll pre-apologize for the lame Father’s Day gift. That’s a dad’s cross to bear.
• Last weekend my dog chased a cat up a tree and for the first time in my life I actually saw one get stuck. I really wasn’t sure it could happen.
We left for several hours and came back and he was still up there in the limbs. Of course you want to call the fire department, but I figured they’d just load up the truck, drive over to my house and have the biggest guy on duty punch me in the mouth for bothering them with something so goofy.
I will admit someone may have sprayed the cat with water at one point in order help him make a decision, and he did move down several limbs. Maybe that’s what he needed because he was gone the next morning.
Meanwhile the dog is still laughing.
• So the city’s about to get for real on this litter issue. It’s about time! I would encourage officers to spend some time waiting near my house in order to nail the person who throws a dirty diaper into our yard on a weekly basis. I’ve been waiting years for this kid to get potty-trained.
I could rant for pages about all the ridiculous people around here who throw bags, cans, bottles, cigarette butts and more out car windows, but it also looks like the mayor’s interested in getting onto property owners who aren’t taking care of their places, too. It’s about time.
Maybe the cleaned up litter can be shoved into road cave-ins across town and Sam and Babs can pave them over. Problems solved.
THE GADFLY BY LAURA RASMUSSEN
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