Quick Hits – October 11, 2022

I’m here to help!

But despite that generally magnanimous magnificence, some of you have the temerity to remain steadfastly skeptical in regard to my amazing capacity to be a ray of sunshine, bring people together, and make every situation better.

Ah! But now those scurrilous infidels will have no choice but to hop on the Jeff Ward bandwagon and start singing my praises. I’m thinking an epic poem would be kind of nice, too.

Here’s what I mean.

Considering how supply chain induced inflationary issues are affecting municipalities, I was rather surprised to read about the $1 million price tag attached to replacing the computer system that runs Elgin’s Festival Park splashpad.

A million dollars may not go as far as it used to, but it ain’t chump change, either. It would certainly go a long way towards covering those annual Wing Park and Lords Park pool losses

And a cool million to replace the equivalent of a couple of PCs? If I could come up with the access codes (I’m working on it), my cellphone could run O’Hare and NORAD, so it sounds an awful lot like someone’s trying to sell Elgin a slightly used bridge over the Fox River.

That said, after applying my inestimable investigative skills, the computer isn’t the only thing that requires replacing. As supervisor of parks and facilities Greg Hulke noted, “Everything that makes the splash pad work is basically outdated by 14.5 years.”

“14.5 years?” That’s awfully specific. I might’ve said “15 years,” but apparently Greg really know his stuff.

Regardless of any planned overhaul, coughing up that kind of cash for a park attraction that essentially sprays water out of random holes in the ground is a little difficult to swallow, particularly in the post COVID era.

The Elgin city sewer system will do all that for free after a heavy rain. There’d be some fascinating colors there, too.

It was as I was considering splashpad repair alternatives that the proverbial out-of-the-blue bolt of inspiration struck. Well, either that or my wife whacked my upside the head for snoring again, but regardless of the catalyst, I’ve managed to come up with the perfect solution to save the taxpayer that seven figures. And after presenting the plan on my Thursday morning WRMN radio spot, I asked morning man Marky B to relay my generous offer to Elgin Mayor Dave Kaptain who was coming on next.

I told Mark that, for a mere $12.50 an hour and a weekly 12-pack of Bass Ale, I’d grab a garden hose, pull a lawn chair right up to said splashpad, and proceed to spray the kids on those hot August days. C’mon! Water is water, right? I’ll even bring my own chair, and working those four summer months at that eminently reasonable rate means it would take me 121.595 years to catch up to that million-dollar mark.

I’m pleased to announce that the Mayor called me later that afternoon to take me up on my offer. He’s a bit flummoxed by that hefty price tag, too. So, I have a new career path, the kids won’t care if the water comes from above or below them, and this move will save Elgin somewhere north of 900 grand.

I love it when a plan comes together!

It was a joke!

I swear one of the strangest long-term COVID symptoms is the complete loss of one’s sense of humor. It was pretty bad to begin with, but now we seem to have completely lost the capacity to look in the mirror and laugh a little bit.

It was in that very humorless vein that, as I presented my splashpad solution on WRMN, a listener texted that they’d “rather spend their tax dollars than have some strange guy spraying children with a garden hose.”

First, despite the evidence to the contrary, I take offense at being referred to as “strange.”

And second, when you have to explain that offering to spray kids on a non-functioning splash pad with a garden hose for $12.50 an hour and a 12-pack of beer is a joke, there’s not much hope for us as a species.

Not only was my proposal a humorous possibility, but the fact that the Mayor took time out of his busy schedule to call and accept my silly proposal is even more hilarious. Perhaps it’s just me, but I’m kind of surprised anyone would take me seriously here.

Sadly, I don’t think the medical community has developed the technology for a sense of humor transplant surgery, either.

There has never been a case of random Halloween candy poisoning

But that doesn’t stop the proletariat from coming up with a new October bogeyman every bleepin’ year.

This time it’s rainbow fentanyl, an opioid drug used to tranquilize large animals like elephants that’s 50 to 100 times more power than your street grade heroin. What makes law enforcement nervous about the “rainbow” variety is it’s manufactured to resemble candy like skittles and sweet tarts.

So, some social media parents are up in arms and warning their compatriots to throw out any Halloween loot that might fit that bill. But while being cautious is never a bad thing, according to Snopes, there hasn’t been a single case of random Halloween candy poisoning in the entrietly of U.S. history. Not one!

There have been a few murders where a family member tried to make it look like a random Halloween tampering act, but law enforcement always caught up with the perp and uncovered the plan.

Furthermore, one dose of street fentanyl runs between $150 to $200, so no addict or dealer is going to “give it away” and risk a murder one charge to boot. It’s not like the police wouldn’t be able to trace the tainted candy back to the person who physically handed it out.

Again, parents need to do what they think is right, but after two long years of pounding pointless pandemic fear into our children, do we really want to continue to corrupt a “holiday” that’s only second to Christmas in making kids smile?

I hope not.