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News / Clark County News

Press Talk: About 125 and that crazy cat Madore

By Lou Brancaccio, Columbian Editor
Published: September 12, 2015, 6:14am

Thanks to everyone who came to our 125th Anniversary of The Columbian on Saturday. I’d call it a huge success.

I’d told about 500 readers showed up.

The newsroom had a long line of folks who came in to say hi and to say how grateful they were for the work we do. And that is always much appreciated.  A few folks asked when we plan on doing it again. That was a good question. Hopefully we won’t be waiting another 25 years.

Thanks again all.

Megaton Madore

David Madore might just be the craziest cat I have ever met.

And I’ve met Rodney Dangerfield!

I’ll admit Madore might not like being called a crazy cat, but now we’re hearing he also doesn’t liked being called councilor. More on that in just a moment.

• • •

On occasion, I’ll have someone ask me how I can keep writing about Madore.

My response?

How can I not keep writing about Madore? If he were around when Dangerfield was still alive … Dangerfield would still be alive. He would have refused to let go with oh, so many one-liner opportunities.

Madore, of course, is County Councilor David Madore. He has been butt whupped so many times by voters his only recourse now is to use the line, “Thank you sir, may I have another?”

Despite all his losses, he still holds onto his council seat because — well — that’s the way it works.

Go figure.

One of his losses revolved around a new form of county government that he passionately opposed. When it passed, it weakened Madore’s powers and changed what we called him. Before, he was a commissioner. Now, he’s a councilor. And that title change eats at Madore every day. It’s a reminder of his loss of power.

So he hatched a plan.

He knew there was no way he could officially change his title back to commissioner. The councilor title was written into the new form of government. But what if he could get someone to agree that it would be OK if the masses just called him that, anyway? You know, unofficially.

Madore went to County Attorney Chris Horne. (I reached out to Horne to help him explain this to me but he, ah, didn’t return my calls and messages. Poor customer service there.)

Madore asked Horne if it would be OK if people called him and other county councilors “commissioners.”

I mean, how do you answer a question like that? My response would be …

“Yo, they could call you Tweedledum or the Prince of Pain if you want. Nobody cares.”

But of course Madore cares. And he cares so much he searched for a way to make the unofficial title sorta, kinda, official.

Enter the Rules of Practice.

The Rules of Practice is something you’ve never heard of. It’s a document that sits on the shelf of an office that describes things like what can be discussed in an executive session and who presides over meetings.

And now — right now, I tell ya! — this book of rules explains what you can call county councilors.

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“… the public frequently refers to Councilors as Commissioners; The council approves of this practice.”

Huh?

Horne had the above written into the good book of rules at Madore’s request.

It was worded in a way that makes it look like Madore was only trying to help his people feel good when they goofed and mistakenly called him a commissioner even though he’s a councilor.

But the real intent was to allow Madore to call other councilors and himself commissioner.

You can see this now at council meetings. Madore refers to Councilor Jeanne Stewart and Tom Mielke as commissioners.

He hopes they will return the favor.

I find it all rather amusing, frankly. And I kinda hope the Tweedledum title catches on.

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Columbian Editor