Medieval Madness

illustration by Doug Potter

King Charles I and Sir Jonathon Blackhawk were on their way to the renaissance festival in Smithville last week when they stopped by council chambers for some pre-council meeting formalities. Wearing a gold-trimmed doublet and a bejeweled crown, the king knighted Mayor Bruce Todd with the royal rapier.

"You are now Sir Mayor Bruce Todd."

Kneeling on a velvet hassock, Sir Todd turned to his fellow councilmembers to revel in his new status: "Did you hear that!?"

The royal court enjoyed a hearty English laugh, for today there would be general unanimity in the kingdom. With little challenge to Sir Todd, the royal court would move forward with only slight dissension. Withal, the witches were out back burning at the stakes and the mutton was in abundance.

A serf named Mike Workman informed the court of his latest findings: the library system's computer-censoring software program, CyberPatrol, is easily offended. For example, "Publish it" can not be searched on the net because it contains a dirty word, and appears like this on the search results: Publixx xx. Other words such as duck are not allowed because of their similarity to a certain human pleasure.

There is no method to the CyberPatrol madness. Some word combinations that are not suitable for children can still be successfully searched nonetheless. For example, the words "Councilmember Eric Mitchell" are not censored. Alas, the city must protect itself from legal and ethical repercussions, and a more grown-up system of conducting internet searches will not be forthcoming any time soon. In a letter to the aforementioned serf, Director of Libraries Brenda Branch says that any solution will require money, and as we well know, the library's archaically funded budget has few shillings to spare. Undaunted, the serf dutifully promised to continue his laborious search, in hopes of taking the duchy to a more enlightened era word by word. Sir Todd tore off a mouthful of mutton and harrumphed.

Sir Todd's young apprentice, Ronney Reynolds, continued his quest for brownie points in the campaign for Sir Todd's job. To curry favor with voters, Sir Ronney is scurrying for any solution he can find to the public carriage system's troubles, and so sponsored a proposal that the court publicly interview candidates for the Capital Metro board, and be gone with the usual closed process of appointment. Reynolds' sycophancy should not discount the merit of his proposal, since it shall hopefully engage ye, the people, in a debate on who should run this $83 million carriage system. It shall be duly noted that Reynolds' longtime arch-enemy, Daryl Slusher, credits himself with having the same idea at the same time as Reynolds, so they both co-sponsored the measure. The coincidence "scared us to death," said Slusher. "So we thought we should rush it onto the council agenda and see what everyone else thought." They all liked it, except for Mitchell, who abstained on the vote, sans explanation.

The court next considered a proposal from two lords of land, Bill and Esther McCormick. They want to turn 17 acres in Southeast Austin into six single-family castles, but to do so, the mini-development must buy water service from a nearby quasi-feudal organization, the Water Control and Improvement District No. 10. WCIDs exist in rural sectors yon, purchasing water from the city and reselling it.

The McCormicks' lobbyist, Maurie Hood, says the proposal would make an estimated $4,500 in city revenue. But that pittance was insufficient for the Water and Wastewater Commission, which wanted to retain the city's right to annex the yuppie castles. City barristers had responded to the commission's concerns by drafting an ordinance that allowed the city a three-year window for annexation. But as the proposed measure got to the council plate rather late, Councilmember Beverly Griffith requested a delay. Hood does not like the delay, for it means he has to spend another day at another council meeting, a job fit for only the hardiest of scribes and jesters. But despite Hood's wailings, the council granted Griffith her request.

With night falling, a crowd of long-haired gypsies congregated in the foyer to protest the closure, or relocation, of Austin's cultural event centerpiece, Eeyore's birthday party. Lady Goodman had tried to keep the gypsies at bay with an announcement earlier in the day that the hamlet protesting the event, Ye Olde Enfield Homeowners Association, had worked out an agreement with the Parks Department that would allow the show to go on, this year at least.

On April 26, Eeyore, our beloved arse, will turn 34 (in Austin years), but parking in the hamlet up the hill from Pease Park will be tightly regulated, and more knights in shining armor will be on hand to keep revelers from having too much abandon. Lady Goodman also announced that a committee of hamlet and Eeyore representatives, along with city staff, would be formed to smoke a peace pipe 'round the round table and find a solution pleasing to all.

Still, the gypsies came. Sir Todd didn't look happy to see them. He complained of a proclamation circulated across the duchy that he said read: "Kick some ass. Save Eeyore's." To Sir Todd's dismay, the proclamation also targeted a member of the hamlet -- lead party-pooper Jim Christianson -- printing his home phone number and address. "It embarrasses me that any member of this group would let that happen," Todd complained to the audience.

Many murmured protests that they'd never seen the letter. About 80 gypsies had signed up to speak, but the court wasn't too thrilled about listening. Mitchell suggested that the court not hear from anyone, neither the council nor the commoners, since the destiny for this year's show had been determined. Sir Todd couldn't help getting a few licks at the audience: "People just aren't happy if they can't get on TV and talk," he said. Sir Todd should know about such things.

An insulted gypsy bolted out muttering, "I can't deal with this xxxx."

"Now that person is mad because he can't be on TV," guffawed Sir Todd from his high seat on the dais as he picked the mutton grist from his teeth.

One person, Les Carnes, an organizer for the event, did speak, and complained that contrary to popular belief, Eeyore's attendance figures peaked about 10 years ago. He added that the Parks Department has not acted cooperatively in explaining to Eeyore's representatives the reason for the proposed relocation.

That ruffled City Manager Jesus Garza's usual tranquility. He pounded on the dais and ordered Carnes: "Bring me the facts! I want documentation! I'm tired of hearing this baloney about Parks not cooperating!"

"What about my idea of no one talking?" joked Mitchell.

"We've asked that of you from time to time and we've gotten some pretty long speeches," replied Sir Todd.

The gypsies enjoyed a round of laughter, and festival music ensued. They were happy, at least, that they would have another year of good times.