"Madness? This is Northampton County!"

Before last night's meeting of Northampton County council, I bumped into Express Times reporter extraordinaire Sarah Cassi. I blocked her way into council chambers, regaling her with tales from my blog.

"Did you know my blog is worth $10,518?"

After she escaped, I latched onto county exec John Stoffa. I always dazzle him with my intellectual superiority. Lsat night, it was the details from 300. I saw that five times last weekend with groups of teenage boys who share my love for classic Greek history.

"Those Persian arrows will blot out the sun tonight, John."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry, John. We'll fight them in the shade."

"Bernie, what the hell are you talking about? It's night and it's raining."

Stoffa would probably have talked with me all night, but the meeting was starting and deputies were coaxing me away. I found my usual seat in the peanut gallery, and furiously began taking notes of the entire meeting. Citizen journalism! How many members of the public were there? 23. Impressive, huh? I've got loads of stuff like that.

I scribbled six full sheets of paper, covering every detail. I've got Council Prez Grube'e groans about council's decision to transfer Veterans Affairs to Human Services. "At the rate we're going, in another two years we'll be a replica of Lehigh County." And they all moaned over a simple resolution to study the possibility of a bi-county health department. "At the rate we're going, in another two years we'll be a replica of Lehigh County."

Council also approved four union contracts for the judges' slaves. After that, Councilman Lamont McClure wanted to go into secret session to consult the oracle about the residual unit. Solicitor Lenny Zito cautioned against going to the back room. "At the rate you're going, in another two years you'll be a replica of Lehigh County."

Council finally agreed to spend $1.5 million to buy Gus Milides' vacant law office, across the street from the courthouse, for our new archives. Councilman Ron Angle was vehemently opposed. He thinks land is cheaper in upstate New York. "At the rate we're going, in another two years we'll be a replica of Lehigh County."

After council had adjourned, I sat in the back with Al Jordan, our computer geek. I was impressing him with my knowledge of voting machine software when county lawyer Chris Spadoni rudely interrupted.

Spadoni squealed that HRH DePaul's dad, toupee and all, had just ripped into Ron Angle. I had missed the whole frickin' thing! Apparently, King DePaul had to be led away by an 18 foot tall deputy sheriff who would make a great Xerxes in 300 II. I have six pages of frickin' notes, and missed the biggest story of the evening!

I tried to find out what really happened by talking to Angle. That's like asking Dick Cheney to explain why we really invaded Iraq. According to Ron, the Debbie Dad approached the dais and started threatening Angle for giving his daughter a rough time. That much I believe. He apparently also told Angle he was going to kick his ass and would be waiting outside. When Angle started talking about High Noon again, I tuned him out. One thing is certain. Angle was taking no chances. He put on his Persian outfit and left the building with an escort of Immortals, all on their way to Tic Toc Diner.

Geez! Angle only attended one of the six task force meetings. I've been to all of them. And I've been much nastier. Uh oh. Time to go.

Outside, on the way to my jeep, it happened. Some old fart with a lousy looking toupee walked up to me and snarled, "Are you Bernie O'Hare?"

"No, he left. I'm Bernie Long, Joe's good-looking kid brother."

The geezer turned to leave, but then he saw an old Angle bumper sticker on my jeep. Busted! I had tried to rip that off years ago, but it's embedded like a tattoo. Damn! I better get the hell out. I turned the ignition and ... nothing. My battery needs a charge. The dude was moving towards me like one of the Immortals, but wasn't quick enough. I let the clutch out, rolled down the hill and jump-started my jeep. He ran down the hill after me, screaming, "This is madness."

As I rolled away, I shouted to the old dude, "Madness? This is Northampton County!"