NRH WATCHDOg

TODAY'S TOP STORY:

NRH City Council Exposed as Hardcore BBQ Sauce Addicts

Officials caught funneling every dollar they can find into luring more barbecue joints to town, prompting investigators to ask: “Is this economic development or a slow-cooked cry for help?”

North Richland Hills —​
In a scandal that has stunned residents, delighted local pitmasters, and caused several dieticians to quietly resign, the entire NRH City Council has been exposed as being deeply — catastrophically — addicted to BBQ sauce.

According to multiple insiders, councilmembers have spent the last 18 months covertly redirecting extra revenues, campaign funds, economic development dollars, unclaimed reimbursements, unused copier toner stipends, and at least one janitorial supply budget to entice more barbecue restaurants to open within city limits.

One staffer described the addiction as “unrelenting, sticky, and sweet with a hint of political desperation.”

THE FIRST SIGNS OF TROUBLE

The saga traces back to a “team-building lunch” at a local smokehouse that spiraled into a three-hour tasting bender. Witnesses say councilmembers began whispering words like “mesquite… hickory… destiny” as they sampled sauces with increasing intensity.

By the next meeting, requests for zoning changes began appearing with handwritten notes in the margins like:

• “Will this make room for brisket?”
• “We need more southern exposure for smoke drift.”
• “Could be ideal spot for a rib-focused micro-economy.”

City staff became suspicious when the Economic Development Department submitted a proposal titled “Operation Smoke Ring”, describing BBQ restaurants as “critical infrastructure.”

FOLLOW THE MONEY (AND THE MARINADE)

A WatchDog financial analysis shows that in the last fiscal year, City Hall quietly approved:

• $40,000 in “culinary outreach research” (spent entirely at barbecue restaurants outside city limits)
• $17,800 for “sauce sampling focus groups” (consisting of the council themselves)
• $9,600 for “smokehouse recruitment incentives” (free brisket for developers)
• $3,200 for “strategic napkin consulting”
• $600 for “emergency wet wipes”

Receipts confirm at least four councilmembers purchased gallon jugs of house sauce during official city trips — labeling them “materials.”

An internal memo shows a list of economic development priorities, ranking BBQ-related goals above pothole repairs, public safety, and the library’s request for working air conditioning.

THE ADDICTION DEEPENS

According to one horrified assistant, the council has begun hosting “executive session tasting labs,” where they debate policy while dipping fries into experimental sauces labeled things like:

• “Civic Justice Jalapeño”
• “Municipal Molasses”
• “Transparency Tang”
• “Infrastructure Inferno”

One night, the Mayor allegedly slammed his hand on the table and declared:

Another councilmember reportedly wept into a plate of ribs and whispered, “This is what public service is all about.”

OUTSIDE THE CHAMBERS

Residents started noticing signs when restaurants began popping up faster than anyone could explain.

Entire strip malls suddenly rebranded.
A zoning case was approved for what turned out to be a “24-hour emergency sauce dispensary.”
At one point, every other post on the city’s Facebook page was about brisket specials, though staff insists they were “hacked.”

Rumors peaked when a citizen spotted three councilmembers at 3 a.m., standing behind a dumpster behind Smokey Jim’s, passing around a bottle labeled simply “Private Reserve.”

THE WATCHDOG WEIGHS IN

NRH WatchDog founder Blakie-Poo, holding a clipboard and wearing what appeared to be a bib, offered his perspective:

He added:

CITY HALL RESPONDS

In a hastily arranged press conference where every microphone stand smelled faintly of smoked paprika, the city’s official spokesperson denied wrongdoing.

Moments later, a staffer accidentally knocked over a duffel bag, spilling sixteen bottles of various sauces onto the floor, prompting audible gasps and one councilmember diving to “save the bottles from breaking.”

THE FALLOUT

The Texas Restaurant Association has called NRH “a model for pro-BBQ governance,” while nearby cities have begun investigating whether they too have “sauce-based corruption.”

One resident summed up the sentiment on Facebook:

Another wrote:

THE WATCHDOG CONCLUSION

The WatchDog will continue investigating the council’s culinary connections — including reports that they plan to replace the annual State of the City address with a rib-eating competition called “State of the Sauce.”

For now, one thing is clear:

NRH isn’t being run by politicians. It’s being run by slow-cooked, oak-smoked obsession.

And honestly?
The city smells incredible.

Be Sure To Spread the Truth,
​Blakie-Poo, Your NRH WatchDog