by Bryan Kelly

THE FOLLOWING IS a cover letter included in my application for prospective appointment to one of Ann Arbor’s boards or commissions:

To the Mayor’s Office,

I am writing to express my interest in serving municipal government. First and foremost, I am interested in serving on the board of the Elizabeth R. Dean Trust Fund, dedicated to the care and maintenance of streetscape trees. As most of my friends will tell you, I much prefer trees to people. It’s why I like this town—and why I may have to leave here in a few years. In truth, our birth rate outpaces the growth of our trees by a tempo too horrific to calculate.

Ann Arbor’s child-age population is robust and hale. Meanwhile, our trees look like they do not feel well. I have seen healthier trees in photographs of Chernobyl. I’m no botanist, but could it be because we dangle garish holiday lights from their branches like the brocaded wrists of a disliked aunt, and keep them draped there 365 days a year? Seems to me like mild electro-shock therapy has become a disgraced tactic in the mental health world.

I’d like to add again that though I am no botanist (for a full list of things I am not, please consult the included binder), I have a great memory for which trees are located where in Ann Arbor. I can’t tell you what kind of trees they are, but I am always aware when a tree has been moved, or when a new tree has appeared. And I have an unusual sense for when a tree is not where it ought to be. I have what Eastern mystics would call municipal feng shui.

It is possible, though unlikely, that you are not persuaded to appoint me to the board of the Elizabeth R. Dean Trust Fund. Therefore, let me comment on other boards and commissions that I would and would not consider.

First, I do not seek, nor will I accept, appointment to the Housing and Human Services Advisory Board. Here are my reasons: one, there are six openings on this board. That is an unsettling amount of vacancies. Something about being appointed to this board must be hazardous to a body’s health. I should not want serving government to be the last thing I do.

In addition, it sounds as though this is not a board that has city government’s attention. Or, if it does, it is only when it has set off a firework. For this reason also, I cannot accept. If I am to be buried in city government, I say again, I would prefer it to be not immediately. (And when it happens, let me say the basement will do just fine. My will lays out the exact details.)

Most importantly, I am not a communist. On a board such as this, my talents would probably be a bad fit.

A greedier man than I would seek appointment to the Downtown Development Authority. It is, after all, a most lucrative position. But I am not ready. I have not “made the right connections” in town. That is all to the better, because I am against this $300,000 downtown ambassadors idea. If we are going to base policy decisions on “what’s working for Grand Rapids at the moment,” can we start by cutting property taxes? Save up a few million dollars more, I suggest, and build a bionic man who fixes potholes, hands out parking tickets, and hovers around Ann Arbor giving free rides on his back. Reaction will be mixed, at first, but eventually tack to the positive.

I am open to the idea of being appointed to the Cable Communications Commission, which oversees the work of the Community Television Network. Indeed, I have a number of ideas I would introduce to the commission. For starters, we may want to budget for a new camera. Something about the one we use now makes it look like it’s still 1994 in Ann Arbor. I swear Council member Steve Kunselman was on Ward Talk the other day in a cardigan that couldn’t have made it far out of the first Bush administration. Either it was laundry day at the Kunselman household, or last week’s show was a rerun—an old rerun.

Update the camera situation—or, if you’re game, target the influential hipster demographic by playing up the budget anachronisms. Shoot a faded 90’s-era sitcom starring Dana Denha and city clerk Jackie Beaudry as two single thirty-somethings from Marquette making their way in “big-city” Ann Arbor. Martinis at Cafe Felix, flings with college seniors, John Hieftje as Mr. Big. The underlying feminist tone must be muted, in keeping with the era of the piece.

(Another show, a knock-off of “Frasier,” could star Ed Vielmetti as the city’s Chief Experience Officer. Vielmetti sips craft brews and reads emails from aggrieved users of the a2gov.org website. John Hieftje plays his environmentally prissy neighbor, whom Vielmetti catches throwing batteries away in a pilot episode.)

Yeah, I got all kind of ideas for sitcoms.

Last, and least, I would consider appointment to a seat on the Taxicab Board. I would consider it until I rejected it, that is—unless you appoint Danny Devito as its chair, and he accepts. Lyft Uber Alles.

In closing, I would like to say it is with joy that I accept appointment to Ann Arbor’s Liquor and Gaming Commission. You say that no such commission exists; I reply that I voluntarily offer to create it. Legalized gambling in Ann Arbor shall be a boon for business, Mr. Mayor, and with the casinos, gentlemen’s clubs. I have heard Ann Arbor used to be a seedy town, and I long to return to this more fascinating era. How else do we plan to head off a looming case of socioeconomic segregation? Strip clubs are just the commerce Huron Street is missing, Mr. Mayor. Tie it all to a property tax cut, and you’ll have six more elections won ahead of time, if I may be so bold.

Thank you for your time and consideration. Contrary to popular belief, I believe I have a bright political future ahead of me—a future you, Mr. Mayor, can now decide to either brighten or dim.