Let’s see now, the asphalt plant circus — cirque de l’usine d’asphalte for all you bi-lingualists out there — was in full lather (go ahead editor, write sic behind that, I dare you) on Tuesday (Sept. 7). I am sorry I missed it all although I did/will/would/ought to have followed it online.

It’s confusing writing these things ahead of time.

Apart from the usine de bitumen — I know, French! — there are plenty of other things riling up the locals. A developer is going ahead developing his two estate lots on the Zen lands because he can’t get the OK to build a university on it and letter writers from the Czech Republic give the mayor hell for clearcutting Whistler. Ahh, good times in the valley.

My question, I’ve asked it before and no doubt will do so again is; why do they do it? Who in his/her right mind would want to be on council?

Imagine yourself as Mayor Ken — oh, go ahead, it’ll be fun. There you are sitting in the hot seat at a public meeting that is going to last a long, long time. Staff, with agendas of their own, are facing you and behind them a public that is ready to rock your socks off. You’re presiding over a fractious council that sometimes seems to want to come to blows. You’re sitting right in the middle of them and some of those guys are bigger than you… OK, they all are, but you get my drift. Do you really want to be there?

Political sharks, attuned as they are to political distress vibes, are smelling blood and starting to slowly circle both in the local media and right there in the public stands. Ahh, to be on Whistler Council in the springtime, or any time for that matter. The picking of nits, the splitting of hairs, the phony baloney outbursts… What a way to run a village.

And yet somebody’s got to do it and as I understand it, some of these guys actually get a kick out of this whole thing. Oh, the joy of getting things done, good things like — warning, personal beef coming up — stopping London Drugs from coming to town, leaving the very same storefront for Shoppers Drug Mart to occupy. What was that again? A big drug chain store did not fit into the ambiance of a resort village. The area should be reserved for funky, locally owned boutiques? Ah, yes, I remember it well and will bring it up on those occasions when big heads need to have air let out of them.

Meanwhile, I think I’ve got a solution for all of our problems today. Rezone the Zen lands to light industrial, move the asphalt plant there. Also, invite a small timber mill operation onto those lands so we can finish our own locally cut old-growth on site and create jobs. And then, purely as a precaution you understand, hire a few crossbow hunters as council bodyguards. Did I leave any buttons un-pushed here?