The news that Minneapolis' water smelled like a dead skunk in a limburger factory came as no news to our house; a few weeks ago the bathtub taps disgorged a strange green grot that looked like the remnants of an extraterrestrial frat party.
Turns out that was a precursor of our newly stenchified tap water. According to the authorities, the bad smell was the result of "melting snow" -- not the pure, innocent, driven stuff that falls from the generous heavens, but snow that's been sitting around past its expiration date and got spoiled. It's safe to consume, the authorities assure us, but who wants to drink ghastly stuff like this?
Water that smells bad is nature's way of telling you that Mr. Cholera's come to town.
Our house has filters on the kitchen taps, in case a single molecule of lead enters the house and lowers everyone's IQ to the level of a YouTube comment-poster, so we didn't notice the recent ration of foul water. The dog didn't notice either -- granted, he drinks from the commode, but given the peculiar sensibilities of canines he might have regarded the smell the way a Gallic nose picks up the composition of a fine wine's bouquet: top note of decomposing squirrel, undertones of mossy bark, a hint of feral cat musk, rotten finish. Exquisite!
Imagine if this had happened during the Republican National Convention. Imagine if people from around the world turned on the taps and got a blast of eau de horrible. The city has budgeted $200,000 to promote the purity of our water; if there's any money left, they could rename it Chunky Funky like some Ben & Jerry's brand and hope people think the appearance is intentional.
They could market the new water as Organic. Really Organic. Isn't it supposed to be good when it's Green?
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 More daily at www.startribune.com/buzz
