Every now and then a letter to the editor in our local paper reads like it comes from another galaxy, far, far away. There was one like that yesterday. It suggested we use the teachings of Howard Zinn to guide the reuse of BNAS, and as such, is a perfect example of why Maine is dying demographically and has the economic promise of a dormant volcano surrounded by vernal pools.
The writer suggests that the focus is now on “the easy thrill” and the “Faustian option of the promised jobs” related to drones. I don’t know where his planet gets its news, but I haven’t seen anything on drones in quite some time, and I’ll be damned if I can recall any promises about jobs connected with them.
But the piece-de-résistance of the letter is the writer’s assertion that “technocrats are poised to lead us down the path of instantaneous explosive gratification.” Wow! Sounds like he’s studied the F. Lee Bailey Guide to Public Hyperbole.
The only thing explosive I can think of around here is a frozen burrito nuked for 30 minutes in a microwave.
Oh sure, the MRRA ED has talked about 40 plus firms that have “been in contact with us” about possible base occupancy, but he can’t tell us who they are because we can’t be trusted to keep a secret. And apparently the companies themselves don’t want anyone to know about them; what a business plan.
Then we have those 5 or 6 Fortune 500 firms that John Richardson was courting before dropping out of the Economic Development field to pursue personal goals. Must be he put those hot leads in his Protocol Lock Box and took them with him so they can pop out of the box at appropriate times in his campaign act.
“Hey kids, wanna see what’s in the box? Ok, step back now!”
Isn’t it strange that the only proposal being discussed publicly is being recycled over and over with transparent attempts to dismiss the realities of its prior unfulfilled commitments, and to make Oxford Aviation seem like “instantaneous explosive gratification.” Shouldn’t somebody be asking MRRA “is this all you got?”
Apparently, even the letter writer is on to their shtick, and that, my friends, is not a small thing! I hope he contacts the town council and convinces them not to give away a nickel of our money.
Maybe he’ll have better luck; they won’t listen to reason from this planet.
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