I am considering launching a Go Fund Me page for the developer of Henlopen Bluff, who recently begged the Lewes Planning Commission to reduce the buffer between his planned community and Gills Neck Road from 50 feet to 25 feet, claiming hardship.
Think about it: The guy is generously offering to refrain from paving over a strip of land that would stretch all the way from my mail box to my garden gnome, and these heartless bureaucrats are insisting he let the grass extend twice as far; roughly the distance from a T-ball pitcher’s mound to the batter’s box.
Maybe Go Fund Me’s not the way to go. I know, I’ll start a nonprofit and take out one of those heart-rending ads you see on cable TV around the holidays:
(A lone cello groans pitifully)
Narrator: “As the cold winds of winter howl off Delaware Bay, the cries of property developers rise across the frozen parking lots of Lewes. Right now, while you sit by your warm, flickering fireside, helpless developers are huddled in the frost, pitifully pacing out the meager feet and inches doled out to them by greedy planning commissioners.
(The camera pans past the faces of doe-eyed developers, their hands outstretched through fingerless gloves. One whimpers softly while scrolling through a bank statement)
Narrator: Won’t you help? Donate cash, jewelry and zoning variances to Save the Developers. Act in the next 15 minutes, and we’ll send you this free gift: an open space so long, narrow and winding you’ll be able to start your own community serpentarium.
Operators are standing by. And so are planning commissioners, ready to “hold their noses and vote in favor.”
Don’t delay. A developer’s new swimming pool is in your hands.