Parks and Prosperity Meet Over Prayer on a Special Sunday Morning

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays

At 9:30 yesterday morning, I knew that I was not in my synagogue for three reasons:

• The services not only started on time, but one minute early.

• The people in the jammed pews were perfectly silent.

• Most of the men were dressed in three-piece suits, and a number of women even wore white gloves.

In Daily Judaism, You May Call the Clock by Its Proper Name — The Boss

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays

My timing was excellent late yesterday afternoon. After driving the several miles over to Beverly/Fairfax to fulfill a weekly errand, I found a rare parking space on Stanley Avenue. The sun was fading as I walked down the paved alley behind venerable old Etz Jacob, my favorite synagogue in the best known Jewish neighborhood in Los Angeles.

Queenie, Your Fairly Royal Highness. Shake Hands with Honesty. It Is a Stranger to You, Right?

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays

I hope that the aging and soon-to-retire Queen Yvonne — she specializes in charades — sleeps soundly tonight because the petitioning peasants of her kingdom, whom she will face tomorrow, will not.

Led by the two hardest working attorneys on the Westside, Ken Kutcher and John Kuechle,an undiscouragable band of Culver City area residents will troop downtown to 500 W. Temple St. for a 9:30 meeting with the Board of Supervisors, hoping to convince them to amend the present documents and delay making final decisions about the Inglewood oilfield.

We Lost? Only One Explanation — The Other Side Cheated Us

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays

Given the low-flying kinds of persons the Democratic Party deliberately and historically recruits — they do not have to be breathing or American — I become instinctively suspicious of the underlying motives of Democrats who get instant religion about honest voting and clean voter registration whenever an Election Day looms.

If I Had Been Born Black — We Might Have Found a Locution Solution

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays

Sometimes I wish I had been born black.

The desire re-emerged this morning over the breakfast table.

I was midway through absorbing America’s third-worst newspaper, the Los Angeles Times, which, hopefully, will fail in the not-distant future.

After a Letter to the Editor prodded my desire to change races to re-emerge, there came a separate and encouraging report:

How Obama’s Team Brilliantly Made Race the Tipping Point in a Winning Campaign

Ari L. NoonanEditor's Essays

Not even the magnetic subject that my colleague Mr. Sisa discussed at length this morning in his weekly essay inflames the passions of meek persons the way that the conversational insertion of race does.

Given the sotte voce nature of the largest portion of Barack Obama’s campaign, it is unlikely that race is just accidentally ankling into the last hour of the campaign.