How, I wonder, could the historically richest community on the Westside so dreadfully, so willfully miscalculate, embarrass itself on the eve of its 100th birthday?
Did we just surrender our Heart of Screenland creds to Burgerville, Iowa?
This cannot be an accident.
It must be a wildly inappropriate, mean-spirited prank.
This is the quintessential red-faced humiliation for sophisticated Culver City.
The dog-scratchingly ugly logo the Centennial Committee unanimously approved, on purpose, demonstrates irreversibly that they have a whispered sense of humor.
Meaning the joke is on us shlubs.
We were told this was going to be a serious undertaking.
Digger O’Dell, our friendly childhood undertaker, should have schlepped this body of work (?) to the most remote nuclear waste dump, like Tehran, if he did not mind soiling his ambulance.
In Burgerville, Iowa, the logo would be a smash. Bulletin: We ain’t burghers of Burgerville.
This is equivalent to a dastardly belch at the exact exquisite moment the preacher inquires, “Do you take this woman…”
At least we know the perpetrators of this nose-pinching, heart-clutching abomination have a sense of ill-timed comedy. With a straight (but not anti-gay) face and a remarkable lack of even hillbilly taste, a lady confessed at Monday night’s Council meeting that the Jon Stewart wannnbes at her agency had devoted (but not very devoutly) 60 hours to designing this pimple lookalike.
When I was growing up, Mom used a fly swatter to kill whatever resembled this shape.
I hope ISIS leaders don’t see the dreaded logo. They will offer the cartoonists guilty of this inartful crime an all-expenses-paid weekend in Yemen to build their own logo. On second thought…hmmm.
The logo only should be displayed at the Braille Institute — in a blackened room.
This is a logo that, if shown to children, could trigger instant, permanent insanity. Or a desire to throw away your mind until you can find a cool rehab facility.
Surely it must have been found beneath the smelly carcasses of two mentally deranged sheep who keeled over in 1950 when they espied this beaut the first time.
Those are smart, upstanding leaders on the Centennial Committee, persons of splendid achievements.
They paid $15,000 for this one-dimension farce, which is $16,000 too much.
In their most vulnerable, inattentive moment, how could committee members have chosen an insulting, shrunk-headed piece that belongs in Ray Charles’s bathroom. Especially now that he is dead, which evidently means he won’t be participating in the logo’s funeral.
That the committee paid $15,000 for this fatuous farce would be hilarious only if the city had $6 trillion in the Reserve Fund.
The Zehner Group that committed this artistic murder should not just be fired.
Torture seems like a modest enough penalty.