Boo! Scariest Things in Whitewater 2008

Here’s the FREE WHITEWATER list of the scariest things in Whitewater for 2008. Last year’s edition is available for comparison.

The list runs in reverse order, from mildly frightening to horrifying.

10. Nostalgia. Why is it necessary to describe everything today as a reminder of what some small, humble person in town did forty three years, seven months, and four days ago? Not merely describe it that way, but likely see it that way — so that the present is only visible through a hodgepodge of scenes from the past?

9. Temporal Imperialism. Much worse than seeing everything though a sepia-colored lens, is the idea that everything was better way-back-when. Yes, yes, I am sure that you think everyone in Whitewater was out of Norman Rockwell decades ago, as though that were a better life. They weren’t, it wasn’t, and it’s all just so much self-flattery and self-deception to think so.

8. Cheerleaders. Not just silly, but wrong, is the idea that the best a politician can do for this community is to be a cheerleader for it. A serious man would be humiliated to think this way, but it passes for profound here. If it makes so much sense to think this way, then why not dress the part, for the full effect? I’ll spring for the costume — just email your address to adams@freewhitewater.com. I won’t even charge for shipping.

7. Jaywalkers. Why even bother with an explanation — isn’t it obvious that these no-good, lawbreaking punks are a problem that should be restrained through easier ticketing? Fine away!

6. Squirrels. They’re still walking freely around here. A whole year, and what’s been done? Nothing — these beady-eyed demons should have been stopped long ago. Yet, our local politicians have done nothing. Set a few coyotes out in the downtown, and the problem will be solved.

5. Markets. Why have buyers and sellers, freely choosing, when you can have regulators, picking and deciding for us?

Leave it to the super-smart politicians on Council. You hush up, they’ll run Whitewater for you.

4. Conflicts of Interest. Like poltergeists, they’re invisible here. No one in Whitewater has ever seen a conflict of interest. One cannot see what is so easily rationalized and wished away.

Politicians and press, sycophantic friends on boards, etc. — they’re not conflicts if the town fathers insist that they’re not. It’s just that simple. Houdini couldn’t make things disappear so quickly.

3. Parental Homeowners. People from sick, disgusting communities like Waukesha, New Berlin, and Whitefish Bay are buying homes in Whitewater for their college-attending children. Can’t you stop this, town fathers? They’ve made our neighbors a wasteland, dead, Dead, DEAD!

2. Foreign Homeowners. Did you know, really did you, that there are — right here in our midst — foreign homeowners? Yes, not even God-fearing, red-blooded American parents, but people who grew up beyond our Republic. Worse, they came here. Worse still — nearly unbearable — some of them bought property in our very city.

Any other community would be happy to have willing buyers — for Whitewater, it’s an invasion.

By the way, who were all the ancestors of the local residents of our community, a few generations ago? Were their villages in Europe communities of milk and honey, streets paved with gold, fair maidens everywhere, in Germany or Scandinavia?

No, I think not — why leave if that were so?

My best guess — some vulgar, dark European rat’s nest, an overweight woman milking a scrawny cow, and not a bar of soap to be seen within a hundred miles.

They arrive here, and suddenly they’re all transformed into local versions of the Vanderbilts.

1. The Police and Fire Commission. Last year’s Number 1 was our police chief, and a year of even greater buffoonery places him as a permanent, Hall of Fame member. For this year, it’s the worst, most embarrassing board or commission in the city. Suitable for any small, reactionary town, the PFC never fails to act as a living cliché.

Why, by the way, the conjunction AND in the Commission’s title? It serves no purpose.

The PFC is a B-movie version of a rubber-stamp body, in contrast with the good and open traditions of our state.

Film these meetings, and we’ll have our own horror-movie industry, suitable for this or any other Halloween.