In 2021, the residents of Lakeridge were blindsided. The Reno City Council approved a development that locals said would permanently alter the character of their quiet, golf-centered neighborhood. To add insult to injury, a former city councilmember even implied that only the “entitled” lived in Lakeridge—and that it was time for that to change.

It was a message that didn’t just sting—it stuck.

So let’s get this straight: the City of Reno is shelling out $200,000 for a mural on California Avenue—by an out-of-town artist, with no design submitted, and somehow no one on City Council knew about it? Until it came before the council last week. But let’s remember public art brings tourism to Reno, or so we’re told.

Do As I Say, Not As I Pay: Reno Council's Compensation Double Standard …

According to This Is Reno's comprehensive six-part series, the City of Reno spends an average of more than $191,000 per year in pay and benefits for each full-time employee—a figure that includes 100% city-funded PERS retirement and health insurance. Yet Councilman Devon Reese somehow managed to keep a straight face while declaring city employees "underpaid."

In the City of Reno, the message to residents has never been clearer—don’t call us, and we definitely won’t call you. Amid a $26 million budget deficit, the city has hit “pause” on appointing residents to its many boards and commissions. The official explanation? Cost savings. The real outcome? A quieter public, a less accountable government, and power kept in the hands of the few.

Ever notice how certain companies seem to have the Midas touch when it comes to project approvals? At Reno City Council and Planning Commission meetings, one name keeps popping up with suspicious regularity: Wood Rodgers.

This engineering firm has mastered a fascinating civic magic trick. 

Step 1: Become developers' go-to representatives. 

Step 2: Sprinkle generous campaign contributions across the electoral landscape. 

Step 3: Watch as those same elected officials mysteriously forget to mention these financial relationships before voting "yes" on your projects.

Are Ward 5 and 6 residents getting the silent treatment from Reno City Council? While Wards 1, 2, and 3 have been actively discussing hot-button Accessory Dwelling Units (ADUs), meetings for Wards 5 and 6 are mysteriously missing. (We'll take the city's word that Ward 4 actually met at the far-flung Stead Airport—who's driving all the way out there to verify?)

Today, the City of Reno agenda includes appointing residents to the Ward 5 and 6 Neighborhood Advisory Boards. But is this just for show? A quick check of Reno's April calendar reveals no scheduled meetings for either ward—this month or next.

The long-delayed revision of Reno's sign code is finally emerging from bureaucratic limbo, but the timing and process raise questions about transparency and public input. Perhaps most telling: the city has chosen to hold these crucial discussions virtually, limiting direct community engagement.

The pattern is familiar. Controversial issues were strategically postponed through the 2024 election cycle, protecting council members facing tight races. Consider Councilmember Kathleen Taylor's narrow victory margin of 287 votes over Frank Perez—a candidate known for his expertise in Reno city code. Meanwhile, downtown residents in the Palladio, Arlington Towers, Park Towers, and The Montage continue waiting for resolution on critical noise issues that were conveniently deferred.

Our Town Reno just pulled back the curtain on the City's ReStore program, and what do we find? A spectacular show of making property owners' basic responsibilities vanish into thin air - using YOUR tax dollars as the magic wand.

First let us say, this is no reflection on Crak N’ Grill, we’re on the side of small business owners, and if the program and the money is available, go for it. What we question is the thought process of our overly-paid City of Reno elected officials.

Well, grab your popcorn and your protest signs, folks - the sequel nobody asked for just dropped at Lakeridge. And unlike most sequels, this one's actually more terrifying than the original.

Picture this: A five-story monstrosity that looks like someone played Tetris with storage containers and called it "luxury living." Local residents are calling it "jail house rock" - though that's honestly unfair to jails, which occasionally have better architectural design.