A couple of weeks ago, my brother and I came to a consensus that the city we where born and raised in should be called Bob.

Our city was previously named after a certain Spaniard who hooked up with a queen, got four boats, and sailed the ocean blue in 1492.  However, because of reasons, my sibling and I decided that the name would probably be changed one day because it isn’t socially acceptable, falsely written in a favorable light in the history books, and has caused a lot of pain for specific Americans.

That’s where the name Bob comes in.  Bob, simply eloquent, can be spelled the same way forwards and backwards.  It could stand for Robert or Roberta, so that shouldn’t be an issue.  There’s probably some sort of “Bob” in all languages and it’ll fit really well on an envelope.

The problem is that the city doesn’t recognize that we renamed it.  Instead, the city strives to be an architectural center.  It happily flashes it’s cash to sculptors that no one really knows about – outside of the elite that is – while not really giving two red cents for the poorer areas of the community.  Some areas of the city violate the city’s own policies and laws, but this shallow city does nothing to correct it, although they are well aware of the infractions.  That places them as a grade-a hypocrite in my book.

Money is for city decorations, but not for overall improvements and community health.  I mean, hell, they’re so vein that they paid someone to come up with this logo to represent the place.   Off the cuff, can you even read this?

• Really.   I think one of my not-by-marriage nieces could do better than this with Play-doh and duct tape.It’s almost if this city wants to infuriate people.   Look at me!  Look at me!   I waste money and have a name that pisses people off!  Ain’t I cooool?Anyways,  that brings us back to the sensible City of Bob.
  In the city of Bob, there are some architectural wonders, but not anything that looks like a multi-coloured phallic symbol on a cocaine high.  And if a statue has a name, the statue will have some passing resemblance to what the name actually is.
  Dead end streets wouldn’t be dead ended.  Trees won’t wear scarves in the winter because people will be wearing them.   Those who have time and money to ‘artistically’ paint rocks to encourage a year-round city Easter egg hunt would actually place their time and efforts into something worth it.

  In the City of Bob, there wouldn’t be any stupid round-a-bouts.  Cops may actually care a little – and not carry baby car seats in the back.   You think we don’t see that, but we do!  I don’t think babysitting on company time is a good idea, Mr. Cop.  It could be your kid and all, but what if you have to shoot someone, huh?   Okay, okay… not that anyone ever gets shot and be reported.  The newspaper is so snowflake that it refuses to report anything controversial on the front page that’s more than some city council squabble.

  Yes – I said snowflake.   And that’s coming from a girl who’s basically albino and fairly pasty at the moment.  Actually, I’m kind of proud of myself.   I’ve never used that word before in writing and certainly have never said it outside of weather related reasons.

  Anyways, my brother and I will keep dreaming of a better Bob.
  There’s always tomorrow, right?