In the beginning was the Plan.
And then came the assumptions.
And the Plan was completely without substance.
And the darkness was on the face of the Planners.
And they spoke amongst themselves, saying "It is a crock of shit and it stinketh."
And the Planners went unto their Supervisors, saying "It is a pail of dung, and none can abide the odor thereof."
And the Supervisors went unto the Division Managers and sayeth: "It is a container of excrement and it is very strong, such that none can abide it."
And the Division Managers went unto the Assistant Directors and sayeth: "It is a vessel of fertilizer and none can abide its strength."
And the Assistant Directors spoke amongst themselves, saying "It contains that which aids in plant growth and is very strong."
And the Assistant Directors went unto the Director saying: "It promotes growth and is very powerful."
And the Director went unto the Council saying: "the new Plan will actively promote the controlled growth and efficiency of the county and certain areas in particular."
And the Council looked upon the Plan and saw that it was good.
And the Plan became Policy.
And this is how Shit Happens.
Someone gave this to me a year or so back. It seems fitting now that the Council has developed a "plan" for rural areas.