Thanks for the visit, sorry to disappoint

Hello, muffins!

The manservants and I were just popping on to the Twitter account to let you know that the BIA meeting scheduled for tonight has moved to Thursday at 4:30. When suddenly…


There certainly are a lot more of you there since the last time we logged on… 😳

Twitter followers up by almost 30%.  Website viewers up by [checks notes] 3200% (yes, those are two zeros, duckies!).  Gin fund replenished.

What the what what?  Was it something I said?  🤷‍♀️

But wait, there's more...

The Twitter fairies were also kind enough to send this notice:

GRAPHIC: 746 views in circle in front of cartoon people  TEXT:  People are checking out your Tweet  Your recent Tweet has 745 views  QUOTED TWEET:  THey're moving in to closed session to discuss an HR matter.Well, cheers to 746 views... 🍸  ...of a sloppily capitalized description of the BIA going in camera.  😕

Oh dear, how terribly disappointing for all 746 of you.  Definitely not my finest work.

My ducklings, the manservants and I were excited when previous tweets broke 50 views.  It's a little disappointing to us as well that this is "the one", instead of something pithier, or at least filled with more curses or gin references.  Not even a well-placed GIF.  😢

To further the disappointment, I suspect you frothing masses descended upon my humble (and previously sparsely-populated) Twitter abode, eagerly searching for salacious barbs, vitriolic harassment, and perhaps an assassination or two...

Alas and alack, you found only thread upon thread of snarky live-tweets from Council and BIA meetings.

I have been known to assassinate a bottle of gin or two, will that do?

I feel like you've all shown up for something I'm not, and will be further disappointed and bored.

In response to the charges that brought you my way:

  • Am I petty?
    • Often.
  • Talentless?
    • That's already in my bio, darlings (although what I might be able to accomplish with the budget of Dame Delahunty...).
  • Annoying?
    • Most likely.
  • Rude and opinionated?
    • Hells bells, yes.
  • Swearsy?
    • 🤬🤬🤬!!!
  • Allergic to dishonesty?
    • 🤧😷🤧!
  • Easily infuriated by obstructionism, pompous grandstanding, and the power-clinging bullshittery of the patriarchy?


  • But the fake account of an anonymous troll who delights in harassing the innocent?
    • Oh muffins, no No NO.


Duckies, there is a vast ocean of difference between an account for a fictional character or nom de plume (think Elmo or RealGrumpyCat), and someone who creates a nameless account for the purposes of launching such delights as "off yourself" or "I know where you live".

The Biased Scribe is no more "fake" than Elmo, Grumpy Cat, Mark Twain, Lewis Carroll, or Richard Bachman.  (Now, don't let that go to my team's heads, none of them are of the calibre of Messrs. Clemens, Dodgson or King, let alone Elmo – did I mention the budget?  😭)

Perhaps a more appropriate reference would be Mrs. Silence Dogood, or for your modern ones, Lady Whistledown... well, if you took out the heaving bosoms and throbbing [gasp] and instead reported on the sexiness (?) of council votes and on the poor behaviour in Council Chambers.

Better examples might be Steven Colbert, Seth Meyers, etc. – without the talent or budget (did I mention that already?), but with the added bonus of gin and manservants, the glamorous fashion sense of Dame Delahunty, and an ability to find council votes exciting.  🤷‍♀️

You see, duckies, ridiculing political figures is a pretty central feature of freedom of speech in a democratic society (a direct quote from one of my writer's lawyers), and is a tradition that hearkens back to at least the ancient Greeks – yes, even ancienter than I.  😱

Ancient Greece is where the word "satire" was born – a genre in which the vices, follies, abuses and shortcomings of our government leaders are held up to ridicule, with the intent of both exposing them and shaming them into improvement.  (Oh, Aristophanes, whither art thou?)

Later, this noble pursuit was taken up by the Court Jester – saying the things that mere mortals wished they could say, but for which their mortality would be proven by beheading or becoming a lion's plaything (and not in a fun way, mrrrowwwrrr).

In fact, that's why The Biased Scribe – initially begun as a private Twitter account for a small group of readers – was later made public (but hitherto unadvertised – oops to yous!):  because people who worked for or with the city wanted to follow, but were AFRAID to be seen as followers.  AFRAID to follow live snark-tweets of Council meetings.  What does THAT tell you about the work atmosphere at City Hall, duckies?

What does the number of people who have 'slid into my DMs', to give support without 'getting caught', say about the current state of City Hall?!?

Goddesses, spare me from the politicians afraid of political commentary.

While you're at it, Goddesses, spare us ALL from the politicians who anti-democratically resort to making staff and the public afraid to comment on their political actions.

For is the forcible suppression of opposition and criticism not one of the pillars of fascism?

And is one of the tests of true democracy not the freedom to oppose and criticize our elected leaders, and the actions they take while representing we, the people?

In the words of Patron Saint Anne Lamott:  "If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better."

Political satire, a fundamental tool of expression and criticism, has been used for centuries to address perceived misdeeds of the government.  While occasionally humorous (some days are better than others), political satire is rooted in intellectual (ditto) arguments and recognition of social injustices.

This is my raison d'être – to elucidate the masses, and encourage our elected officials to behave better.

Judging by our current Councillors' recent behaviour, I see my être is still required.

Pray to the Goddesses I become unnecessary next term.  (Place yer bets, place yer bets...)

See you Thursday, 4:30pm for my next live-tweet.  Please send gin.  🍸🍸🍸

The no-BS B.S.


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