In the early years of the 21st Century, to combat the rising tide of unbridled capitalism and a perceived flagrant disregard for the environment, the Bellingham City Council gave the Planning Department leave to move without let or hindrance throughout the watershed, in a reign of over zealous heavy regulation, terror and torture that makes a smashing film.
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This was the Silver Beach Inquisition.
Property owner #1 of 20 plus years, (Husband): There's trouble in the Lake Whatcom Reservoir...
Property owner #1 of 20 plus years, (Husband): There's trouble in the Lake Whatcom Reservoir...
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Property owner #2, (Wife): What kind of trouble?
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Husband: That gravel you ordered has fines…
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Wife: Pardon?
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Husband: the city says it might be contaminated…
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Wife: I don’t understand what you’re saying...I bought it at Bakerview Nursery...
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Husband: (With irritation) it’s the wrong kind of gravel!
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Wife: Well, what on earth does that mean?
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Husband: *I* don’t know – I was just told to come in here and say that there is trouble in the Lake Whatcom Reservoir, that’s all – I didn’t expect a kind of Silver Beach inquisition.
(Jarring cord)
The door flies open and the City’s Chief Inspector enters, flanked by two junior inspectors. The Chief inspector has a clip board and a ticket book. The two junior inspectors are carrying monitoring equipment and cameras.
(Jarring cord)
The door flies open and the City’s Chief Inspector enters, flanked by two junior inspectors. The Chief inspector has a clip board and a ticket book. The two junior inspectors are carrying monitoring equipment and cameras.
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Chief inspector: NOBODY expects the Silver Beach Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise -- surprise and fear -- fear and surprise… Our “two” weapons are fear and surprise -- and ruthless regulatory efficiency -- Our “three” weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless regulatory efficiency -- and an almost fanatical devotion to the Mayor -- Our “four” -- no amongst our weapons -- amongst our weaponry -- are such elements as fear, surprise – ruthless regulatory efficiency - I’ll come in again.
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Husband: I don’t expect any kind of Silver Beach Inquisition
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(Jarring cord)
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(The inspectors burst in)
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Chief inspector: NOBODY expects the Silver Beach Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise -- surprise and fear -- fear and surprise… Our “two” weapons are fear and surprise -- and ruthless regulatory efficiency -- Our “three” weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless regulatory efficiency -- and an almost fanatical devotion to the Mayor -- Our “four” -- no amongst our weapons -- amongst our weaponry -- are such elements as fear, surprise – ruthless regulatory efficiency - I’ll come in again.
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Husband: I don’t expect any kind of Silver Beach Inquisition
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(Jarring cord)
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(The inspectors burst in)
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Chief inspector: NOBODY expects the Silver Beach Inquisition! Amongst our weaponry are such diverse elements as fear, surprise, ruthless regulatory efficiency, $1,500 per day fines, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Mayor, and nice trucks – oh, damn!
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To junior inspector 1, I can’t say it – you’ll have to say it.
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To junior inspector 1, I can’t say it – you’ll have to say it.
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Junior inspector 1: What?
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Chief inspector: You’ll have to say the bit about “our chief weapons are…”
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Junior inspector 1: (rather horrified), I couldn’t do that!
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Chief inspector bundles the junior inspectors back out the door again.
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Husband: I didn’t expect a kind of Silver Beach Inquisition.
(Jarring Cord)
(The inspectors enter)
Junior inspector 1: Err…Nobody…um…
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Husband: I didn’t expect a kind of Silver Beach Inquisition.
(Jarring Cord)
(The inspectors enter)
Junior inspector 1: Err…Nobody…um…
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Chief inspector: Expects…
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Junior inspector 1: Expects…Nobody expects the …um..The Silver Beach Inquisition. In fact, those who do expect –
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Chief inspector: Inquisition
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Junior inspector 1: I know, I know! Nobody expects the Silver Beach Inquisition. In fact, those that do expect –
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Chief inspector: Our chief weapons are…
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Junior inspector 1: Our chief weapons are…um…err..
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Chief inspector: Surprise…
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Junior inspector 1: Surprise and…
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Chief inspector: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there – stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah!...our chief weapons are surprise…blah, blah, blah. Junior inspector 2, read the charges.
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Chief inspector: Okay, stop. Stop. Stop there – stop there. Stop. Phew! Ah!...our chief weapons are surprise…blah, blah, blah. Junior inspector 2, read the charges.
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Junior Inspector 2: You are hereby charged that you did on diverse dates commit infractions against the Lake Whatcom Reservoir. My Chief inspector said follow the ….
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Junior inspector 1: That’s enough.
(To wife) how do you plead in regards to buying the wrong gravel?
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(To wife) how do you plead in regards to buying the wrong gravel?
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Wife: I didn’t-- we’re innocent. The Nursery delivered the wrong gravel…
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Chief inspector: Ha! Ha! Ha!
(Diabolical laughter)
Junior inspector 1: We will soon change your mind about that!
(Diabolical acting)
Chief inspector: Fear, surprise, and a most ruthless – (controls himself with a supreme effort) Ooo! Now Junior Inspector 2 – the rack!
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(Junior inspector 1 produces a plastic coated dish-drying rack with a "no home-owners allowed" sticker. The Chief inspector looks at it and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums to cover his anger).
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Chief inspector: You… Right! Tie her down.
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(Junior inspectors make a pathetic attempt to tie her onto the drying rack).
Chief inspector: Right! How do you plead?
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(Diabolical laughter)
Junior inspector 1: We will soon change your mind about that!
(Diabolical acting)
Chief inspector: Fear, surprise, and a most ruthless – (controls himself with a supreme effort) Ooo! Now Junior Inspector 2 – the rack!
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(Junior inspector 1 produces a plastic coated dish-drying rack with a "no home-owners allowed" sticker. The Chief inspector looks at it and clenches his teeth in an effort not to lose control. He hums to cover his anger).
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Chief inspector: You… Right! Tie her down.
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(Junior inspectors make a pathetic attempt to tie her onto the drying rack).
Chief inspector: Right! How do you plead?
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Wife: Innocent
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Chief inspector: Ha! Right! Junior inspector 1, give the rack (oh dear) give the rack a turn.
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(Junior inspector 1 stands awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders)
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Junior inspector 1: I…
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(Junior inspector 1 stands awkwardly and shrugs his shoulders)
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Junior inspector 1: I…
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Chief inspector: (gritting his teeth) I “know”, I know you can’t. I didn’t want to say anything. I just wanted to try and ignore your crass mistake.
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Junior inspector 1: I…
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Chief inspector: It makes it all seem so stupid.
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Junior inspector 1: Shall I?...
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Chief inspector: No just pretend for god’s sake. Ha! Ha! Ha!
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(Junior inspector 1 turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish rack).
(Cut to them torturing a dear lady for buying gravel laced with fines).
Chief inspector: Now, woman – you are accused of buying the wrong gravel on three counts – heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action – “four counts”. Do you confess?
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Wife: I don’t understand what I’m accused of. The City puts down tons of sand in our neighborhood during snow storms. It is washed into the gravel, along with all sorts of contaminants from the road. What’s this nonsense about fines?
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Chief inspector: Ha! Then we will make you understand! Junior inspector! Fetch…the cushions!
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(Jarring cord)
(Junior inspector holds out two modern household cushions)
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Junior inspector 1: Here they are sir.
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Chief inspector: Now, lady – you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of purchasing gravel with fines, reject the works of the consumer society and confess your environmental ineptitude – “two” last chances. And you shall be free – of the $1,500 per day fine. “three” last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
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Wife: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
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Chief inspector: Right! If that’s the way you want it – junior inspector! Poke her with the soft cushions!
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(Junior inspector 1 carries out this rather pathetic torture)
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Chief inspector: Confess! Confess! Confess!
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Junior inspector 1: It doesn’t seem to be hurting her, sir.
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Chief inspector: Have you got all the stuffing at one end?
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Junior inspector 1: Yes sir
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Chief inspector: (angrily hurling away the cushions): Hm! She is made of harder stuff – just like gravel! Junior inspector 2: fetch …the Comfy chair!
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(Jarring cord)
(Zoom in to Junior inspector 2’s face).
Junior inspector 2, (terrified): The…Comfy Chair?
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Chief inspector pushes in a comfy chair – a really plush one).
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Chief inspector: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Junior inspector 1! Put her in the Comfy Chair!
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(The two junior inspectors roughly push her into the chair)
Chief inspector: (with a cruel leer): Now, you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. (aside to junior inspector) Is that really all?
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Junior inspector 2: Yes sir. We can only levy fines, $1,500 per day.
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Chief inspector 2: I see. I suppose we could make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Is that really all it is?
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Junior inspector 2: Yes, sir.
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Chief inspector: Confess! Confess! Confess!
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Junior inspector 1: I confess!
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(Junior inspector 1 turns an imaginary handle on the side of the dish rack).
(Cut to them torturing a dear lady for buying gravel laced with fines).
Chief inspector: Now, woman – you are accused of buying the wrong gravel on three counts – heresy by thought, heresy by word, heresy by deed, and heresy by action – “four counts”. Do you confess?
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Wife: I don’t understand what I’m accused of. The City puts down tons of sand in our neighborhood during snow storms. It is washed into the gravel, along with all sorts of contaminants from the road. What’s this nonsense about fines?
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Chief inspector: Ha! Then we will make you understand! Junior inspector! Fetch…the cushions!
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(Jarring cord)
(Junior inspector holds out two modern household cushions)
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Junior inspector 1: Here they are sir.
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Chief inspector: Now, lady – you have one last chance. Confess the heinous sin of purchasing gravel with fines, reject the works of the consumer society and confess your environmental ineptitude – “two” last chances. And you shall be free – of the $1,500 per day fine. “three” last chances. You have three last chances, the nature of which I have divulged in my previous utterance.
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Wife: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
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Chief inspector: Right! If that’s the way you want it – junior inspector! Poke her with the soft cushions!
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(Junior inspector 1 carries out this rather pathetic torture)
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Chief inspector: Confess! Confess! Confess!
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Junior inspector 1: It doesn’t seem to be hurting her, sir.
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Chief inspector: Have you got all the stuffing at one end?
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Junior inspector 1: Yes sir
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Chief inspector: (angrily hurling away the cushions): Hm! She is made of harder stuff – just like gravel! Junior inspector 2: fetch …the Comfy chair!
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(Jarring cord)
(Zoom in to Junior inspector 2’s face).
Junior inspector 2, (terrified): The…Comfy Chair?
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Chief inspector pushes in a comfy chair – a really plush one).
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Chief inspector: So you think you are strong because you can survive the soft cushions. Well, we shall see. Junior inspector 1! Put her in the Comfy Chair!
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(The two junior inspectors roughly push her into the chair)
Chief inspector: (with a cruel leer): Now, you will stay in the Comfy Chair until lunch time, with only a cup of coffee at eleven. (aside to junior inspector) Is that really all?
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Junior inspector 2: Yes sir. We can only levy fines, $1,500 per day.
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Chief inspector 2: I see. I suppose we could make it worse by shouting a lot, do we? Is that really all it is?
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Junior inspector 2: Yes, sir.
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Chief inspector: Confess! Confess! Confess!
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Junior inspector 1: I confess!
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Chief inspector: Not you! The property owners!
Chief inspector: Not you! The property owners!
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Definitions:
Gravel with "fines" is gravel that has some sand or earth mixed in it. The east side of the Silver Beach neighborhood does not have sidewalks and many of the homeowners have installed culverts in the ditches (permitted by the city) covered by a deep layer of porous gravel. The gravel strips help keep our children safe as they walk along the road; they also absorb stormwater, provide level parking for property owners during adverse weather conditions and protection for walkers, joggers and bicyclists who need temporary safe haven from traffic.
The city is about to institute a Right of Way permit to monitor property owners behavior on gravel right of ways. (Never mind that this activity was already permitted by the City with the understanding that the property owner is supposed to maintain the City's right of way).
By the way, EARTH to city - the existing gravel is ALREADY contaminated from years of stormwater runoff from the road!
But it provides an essential service - it draws stormwater down into the ground, a process referred to as " stormwater infiltration" in Environmental management circles.
From this point on, just call the east side of Silver Beach "Slum Beach" because that's what its going to turn into, if no one is allowed to maintain right of ways, yards or homes. (The city already refuses to maintain the ditches and other city owned property - they will not maintain the right of ways.
How bad is it? Last summer, I had an inspector pull into my driveway to watch me painting the underside of my deck. I was using Benjamin Moore paint. (I'm sure painting will soon be a heavily regulated activity too)!
Nobody expects the Silver Beach Inquisition!
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