Place your bets.

And so, election day descends upon our quiet valley. "Quiet" might not be accurate, though -- I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that the election signs on lawns seem to resonate at some indiscernible frequency. Yet another reason to welcome a new regime, I suppose. Actually, I'm already welcoming it; my nemesis, the "comics=pornography" Cathy Smith, has decided not to run for re-election. Don't worry, I'll sweep up the confetti tomorrow.

So if Cathy's out, then who's in?

The results aren't in yet, but I wager the pot-legalisation mayoral candidate who wanted to turn CFB Suffield into a spaceport didn't make it in. Bless his heart for running... and damn his eyes if he wins. (For added comedic value, he's the son of one of the city's most prominent lawyers. All we need now is for him to be engaged to a young lass against her will, and we've got a brand-new Jane Austen adaptation.)

On the other side of the sanity spectrum (which quite possibly forms a circle) is our gruff, tough, working man's candidate. His entire platform is built on "common sense". Here's a quick quiz for my readers:

Q. Suppose you ask someone why they want to change the bus routes, or demolish a building... or anything at all, for that matter. If his reply is, "It's common sense", are you convinced?

A. This is what happens when people believe too much in their own buzzwords.

Also of note is Brian Varga -- specifically because his sign is hanging off the balcony of my condo-in-progress. Apparently, he's a landscaping supervisor for the construction company. Say what you will about his political experience, but you have to admit that a) he understands the real estate market, and b) if he wins, my condo's gardening is going to define "civic pride".

There's another fellow I'm voting for, Jeremy Thompson, who's changed my car's oil at the Lube-X. You know, sometimes, if you're willing to look at your city council just as a group of people instead of third-rate politicians, you can be pleasantly surprised with democracy.

Here's to the next three years, then.