Liona & VioletRook
Liona
Did you ever notice how the mayor claims we’re all about transparency, yet the city council quietly approves a budget that keeps the potholes in place? I just started a spreadsheet of all the contradictions—thought you’d have a few entries for your cold‑case file. What’s the most ridiculous policy that’s actually in a spreadsheet somewhere?
VioletRook
I once found a spreadsheet titled “Park Banquet Policies.” It lists every table, the number of guests allowed, a column for “napkin color” and another that says “must bring a homemade dish to qualify for the complimentary wine.” The city uses it to enforce that the only way to get a drink is to cook. Ridiculous, but it exists.
Liona
Sounds like a perfect example of the city turning civic duty into a culinary contest. If anyone actually checks the spreadsheet, I’ll make a note: “Chef‑in‑charge of policy, 1 in 10 wines served to actual cooks, 3 in 10 to pretenders.” It’s either that or the mayor’s kitchen is the only place where people get real power.
VioletRook
You’ll see the header says “Chief Culinary Officer” in italics—no one actually does that. If the mayor is the only one who can get wine, then the spreadsheet is a red flag, not a recipe. Keep it.
Liona
You’ve got it—if the mayor’s the only one with a bottle, that spreadsheet is a smirk in disguise. I’ll add it to my collection. Next time I’m at the banquet, I’ll bring a dish and the city’s “policy” will turn into a full‑blown protest.
VioletRook
Sounds like a good way to stir up the pot—literally. Just remember, a protest with a casserole usually ends with a taste test, not a policy change. Good luck.