A.B.D. Disease: Anybody But Davies

Ari L. NoonanSports

      As you may know by now, a wall of Kremlin-like secrecy has been thrown up around the City Council’s vote last Tuesday night for a new Police Chief.
      The express purpose was to cloud the names of the three members who cast A.B.D. votes — Anybody But Davies.
      They are, you see, embarrassed. Otherwise, why wouldn’t they proudly proclaim, “I voted for Don Pedersen of Signal Hill as our new Police Chief because…”?
      They haven’t. And I don’t believe they will.
      They are smart enough to realize many people would throw ripe tomatoes at them if they knew the names of the Council members who seemingly set out to punish the hometown guy.

The Mistake Demonstrators Made

Ari L. NoonanSports

     In the midst of mid-day Monday’s student protest at City Hall against toughening immigration laws, my new friend Dennis Vaquerano of Hamilton High School and I stood in the midst of the crowd and shmoozed about American exceptionalism.
     Why not Manifest Destiny?
     As a matter of fact, we — I mean, he — talked about that, too.
     When you wade into a sea of teenage protestors, you obviously can’t anticipate what subjects will come up when you ask, simply, Why are you here?
An eleventh-grader at Hami, Mr. Vaquerano actually was typical of twenty or more impressive students I spoke with.

Can a Man Change His Mind?

Ari L. NoonanSports

     [Editor’s Note: This is a prologue that never was intended to be written. It would not have surfaced if I, clearly in the autumn of my years, had not learned a stinging lesson on Monday from high school student protestors at City Hall.
     As my family, a few former relatives, my sons who are stuck with me for life, and friends know, I begin every morning with a tankful of passion and enough emotion to write a long letter all the way across the sky.
     Arriving at my office in the Culver Hotel a crack before dawn yesterday morning, I was steaming over the sub-text of last Saturday’s record-large immigration rally in downtown Los Angeles. Having combed numerous sources for pertinent information and unmistakably clear about my convictions and responses, I sat down to compose.

How Can Catholics Live with Him?

Ari L. NoonanSports

    If Cardinal Mahony’s morals were as high as his voice, he would be a religious person who merits respect.   
     Instead, he continues to disgrace the Catholic Church. By his arrogant, seemingly criminal, behavior, he merits the same respect you would show to a hollowed out car in a junkyard.
    
     He will not resign. He repeatedly has demonstrated he is incapable of making morally correct decisions. Also, men with the control and influence he wields never voluntarily leave. They only respond to shoves.
     He not only should be unemployed, a strong case can be made for putting him behind bars for many years.

Bring ‘em Back — Alive

Ari L. NoonanSports

     Thank goodness for Measure V, and shortly I shall explain why.
     The wit and witty wisdom of former City Councilman Steve Gourley jabbed me in the ribs several times on Tuesday night while we were waiting — and waiting — for the Candidates Forum to begin.
     Long gone from City Hall, I wish he were back on the Council. Or at least running for office.  His lusty style is missed.
     He was loose before and during the forum sponsored by the League of Women Voters. But then he has been loose almost every time I have been around him.

Stark Warning for School Board Members

Ari L. NoonanSports

     For three School Board members, a drama that played out on Monday in a  South Bay courtroom may serve as a cautionary tale.  Hopefully, the sobering outcome will prod Stew Bubar, Dana Russell and Marla  Wolkowitz into doing the right thing.
     There are eerie parallels between what happened in Culver City and the twin filings against a retired Manhattan Beach school superintendent and a former Manhattan Beach School Board member.
     By some peopleÕs standards, not much money was involved in the case of the three Culver City Board members, a shade more than $60,000. 
`An assertion was made that the three Board members violated the state Government Code by obtaining an excessive amount of healthcare benefits.

A Time for Men To Be Manly

Ari L. NoonanSports

     If there is any validity to reincarnation, I would like to come back as Harvey Mansfield. Until recently, his conservative political credentials were compressed, quietly, inside his ankle-high reputation as a professor of government and political theorist at Harvard.
     This week, he is the Hottest Author in the Land. His new book “Manliness” (Yale), has feminists and their emasculated men pals in a titter.
     For those who appreciate bloodletting in the culture wars, one captivating round played out deliciously on Sunday afternoon on C-Span. When the Elmer Fudd of the feminist movement was mismatched against the cool Prof. Mansfield, the jousting unmasked the lady’s foam-filled agenda.
     She wanted to talk about sex. He insisted on being serious. She stomped her feet. She pushed her right hand through her overgrown hair and smirked.

The Day That Teachers Struck Out

Ari L. NoonanSports

      Don’t you love it when unionists get what they asked for and still slink away in a petulant pout?
      For at least five years, I have been hearing the Teachers Union bleat that the School District doesn’t love them anymore.
      The most frequently repeated jibe is the following:
      Their talents are even less appreciated than those of the CEOs of Dell Computers,  Microsoft and General Electric.
As surely as if they had stood on the balcony of a tall building and emptied their wallets over the side, members of the Teachers Union shot another hole in their credibility last week.

A Wetsider From Away Back

Ari L. NoonanSports

       Fresh from a visit to the second-floor office of the impressive Parks and Rec Director, Bill LaPointe, I stepped outdoors into the crispy cool of a gloriously beautiful Wednesday morning.
       Another unparalleled day in Paradise.
Just as I was immersing myself aesthetically in the lush green poetry of the Vets Park, an old friend called out. Richard Friedman, a giant of a man, professionally and physically, was striding sprightly toward me.
       Not for long. In two lengthy strides covering about thirty feet, he was abreast of me and past.
       A successful musical producer in Hollywood,  Richard’s career is double-parked atop a pinnacle because not much is left standing in his way. Ain’t nothing opaque or subtle about his carefully honed mind, his ambition, his remarkable gift for humor or his wizardry with cleverly coordinating music and performance.