The Great Sauna Meeting of 2025: City Council Melts Down—Literally

Ah, the Superior Common Council meeting of May 6, 2025—where democracy sweated it out in real time. Let’s set the scene: the thermostat in the building had apparently declared war on comfort, cranking up the heat like it was auditioning for a remake of The Towering Inferno. Mayor Jim Paine kicked off his report by apologizing for the heat but not too much because, as he put it, he’d been “living with it all day.” Living with it? Buddy, you didn’t just live with it—you marinated in it.

And you have to wonder: was all that sweating from the heat…or from that little stunt where he allegedly tried to trade away Pokegama Bay for a family easement issue? That’s right—rumor has it, Paine was ready to swap a chunk of Superior’s waterfront like it was a Pokémon card just to smooth over some backdoor handshake. I guess when you’ve got the power to negotiate city assets like you’re playing Monopoly, the thermostat isn’t the only thing getting turned up.

But hey, he told folks to step outside if they couldn’t handle it. Nothing like a good old-fashioned civic sweat lodge to hash out shady land deals and half-baked budget reports. Who needs transparency when you’ve got steam clouds thick enough to hide all the paperwork?

“Oops, My City’s on Fire”—Mayor Payne’s Report

While the council was collectively contemplating spontaneous combustion, Mayor Payne soldiered on with his report. He casually dropped the news that the thermostat was clocked at 89 degrees below zero earlier that morning. That’s not a thermostat malfunction—that’s Narnia. I half expected Mr. Tumnus to stroll in and ask for a zoning permit. But no, the heat was on, and the Mayor just told folks to step out if they couldn’t handle it. Nothing like a good old-fashioned civic sweat lodge to really hash out the local ordinances.

The Mayor also mentioned the Joint Finance Committee meetings and upcoming budget talks in Madison. He even offered councilors a ride if they wanted to join him. I’m picturing him behind the wheel of a rusty minivan with a “My Other Car is a Budget Deficit” bumper sticker.

Public Works: Potholes, Pump-outs, and the Death of Spring Cleanup

Councilor Ludwig delivered the Public Works Committee report with all the enthusiasm of someone reading a eulogy for road maintenance. First up: the Tower Avenue Project, which is supposed to “enhance traffic flow and improve safety.” That’s government-speak for “we’re gonna rip up the roads, and you’re gonna hate your commute.”

But the real funeral was for Spring Cleanup, which is being dragged out back and shot because the landfill is closing. That’s right, folks—your annual pilgrimage to dump all your broken dreams and rusted lawn chairs is coming to an end. A little part of Superior dies with it, right? I say we hold a candlelight vigil next spring. Bring your busted microwaves and mattresses for one last hurrah.

The Skate Park Saga: A Million Bucks for Concrete Glory

Now here’s where it gets spicy. The Parks and Recreation Committee pushed through a $1,012,000 budget for the Heritage Skate Park rebuild. I didn’t know skateboarding was this lucrative. A million bucks to essentially recreate what every kid in the 90s did with a wooden ramp and a half-broken BMX bike. But wait—it’s going to be made of “better materials.” So, concrete instead of splinters and prayers, I guess.

There was a whole debate about whether skateboarding is going to be relevant in ten years. Councilor Sweeney wanted hard numbers, like it was some sort of Skateboarding GDP Report. Spoiler alert: it’s now an Olympic sport. So yeah, it’s probably going to outlive most of the councilors debating it.

The Great Co-Vice Presidency Gamble of 2025: Now with Extra Clowns

And finally, the pièce de résistance: the council couldn’t decide on a Vice President because of a tie vote. So what do they do? They elected both nominees as co-Vice Presidents. That’s right—five card-carrying members of the Clown Posse, still in power, still juggling city business with the grace of a three-legged giraffe. Among the honk-nosed elite: Garner I Want a Raise Moffat, who managed to squeak into the co-VP spot, probably promising to approve any motion as long as it includes extra sprinkles on his donut.

But wait, the circus isn’t over. Oh no, the Big Top’s still up, and Lindsey Open Meetings Violation? Never Heard of It Graskey somehow kept her throne as Council President. You’d think multiple slaps on the wrist for skirting transparency laws would be a dealbreaker, but in the political funhouse that is Superior, breaking the rules is basically a resume booster. It’s like failing upwards is the official city sport—commit a few violations, and you don’t get benched; you get promoted.

I mean, why punish incompetence when you can reward it? It’s practically a tradition at this point. Graskey’s got more second chances than a sitcom character, and now she’s calling the shots while eyeing $600k in taxpayer dollars to paint a grain silo. Because nothing screams fiscal responsibility like turning agricultural storage into a vanity project.

So now we’ve got two Vice Presidents, one president with a rap sheet for open meetings violations, and a council that collectively believes the best way to fix gridlock is to double the steering wheels. Democracy in action, folks. Or maybe it’s just the dress rehearsal for the next season of American Greed.

Taxi Wars: Minnesota vs. Wisconsin—A Battle of Bureaucratic Stubbornness

One of the weirder discussions was about the taxi cab licensing disaster. Apparently, taxis from Duluth can drop people off in Superior but can’t pick them up. It’s like they have a restraining order against their own business model. The Licensing and Fees Committee decided to do absolutely nothing about it, blaming it on Uber and Lyft. Because when in doubt, just point at Silicon Valley and shrug.