W. Shakespeare, the Mayor, Runs Hard and Shows His Genius Side Once Again

Ari L. NoonanSports

William Shakespeare Villaraigosa, who divides his days between running hard for the White House and mayoring Los Angeles, proved again yesterday he owns the premier knees in Southern California, eastern Utah, western Michigan — anywhere that voters live.

No stunt is too low to stoop for.

Whatever it takes to keep the publicity machine churning.

I’m running for something, I can’t remember what, I just need to be in office, today, tomorrow, forever. I will go anywhere, at any hour, for publicity, as long as you promise to bring a camera and a tape recorder with fresh batteries.

Classy Eddie Jones Fights His Way Through a Hit Story Favoring a Civil Rights ‘Rival’

Ari L. NoonanSports

Culver City, the onetime vanilla community, has come a long way when a black man — a tuned-in civil rights leader yet — says he loves venturing into and around this town.

Not that Eddie Jones lives so far away.


In fairly modern times, few black men have declared, publicly, openly, sincerely, they love coming to Culver City.

Mr. Jones, profiled last month by thefrontpageonline.com, was in Culver City last night.

The Power of Government Is Awesome: I Condemn You

Ari L. NoonanSports

There is at least a half-century of tightly legal precedent, we are told, for the eminent domain cases that are sweeping across Culver City, and elsewhere in America, as if there were a permanent dust storm.

For the strictest readers, the legal record is much older.

A little more than 200 years ago, the U.S. Constitution was written to permit government entities — that may be the most inelegant word in the English language — the right to claim private properties for the public good.

Until the middle of the past century, that seemed to be a reasonably accepted government right.

Your Neighbors in Turmoil — How Much Does It Matter to You?

Ari L. NoonanSports

Checked in just before lunch today with Harry, as in Cool Harry of coolharryfurniture.com, 8834 National Blvd.

Harry is a tenant on a Culver City block that sometimes feels as if it is morphing into Hiroshima.

Our conversations have opened the same way for weeks.

“Still packing,” huffed Harry. “It’s a huge job.”

The chic artist of renown is being hustled out of his cozy Culver City nest — in the most coarse manner, he says. Cool Harry’s art furniture must go, City Hall says, along with every other business on the west side of National Boulevard, to make way for the light rail complex.

Three Police Chiefs Walk Into a Bar. One Says…

Ari L. NoonanSports

He may not be as funny as the Los Angeles Times when it reports, breathlessly, that “global warming” will wipe us all out before next Thursday unless we buy a certain kind of car or munch on blue carrots without inhaling.

But Don Pedersen’s dry humor is genuine. Airing out his funny bone will engage you even if you don’t like cops or prefer to start and end your days in a gloomy mood.

His talent sneaks up on you.

His relaxing, soft-shoe humor may be a talent looking for an audience.

Wishing You Happy Presidents Day from Beautiful Downtown Bulgaria

Ari L. NoonanSports

In the middle of my overnight reverie, a strange sound exploded from our radio at a pre-dawn hour this morning.

In place of the Star-Spangled Banner, which the station usually plays at a certain hour, the Bulgarian National Anthem was cued up.

Then I remembered.

Today is Presidents’ Day, America’s post-modern monument to egalitarianism, or as it is known in the academic community, Ain’t We All Alike Day?

As envisioned by fun-loving American leftists, they wanted to modernize two perfectly legitimate holidays by taking one in each hand — Lincoln’s Birthday, Feb. 12, and Washington’s Birthday, Feb. 22.

What Is a Fellow to Do When His Parents Let Him Down the Way Mine Did?

Ari L. NoonanSports

It may be imprudent to make the present accusation since Mom has been gone for 25 years, and Pop, in his early 90s, is well past his prime.

But in the wake of disturbing recent news events, I must conclude that my mother and father were abysmal failures as parents. Thank goodness Mom died before she heard me say that.

Supposedly my moral beacons, my parents must have been lying when they taught me that one motivation for doing the right thing was that there would be consequences when I committed bad acts.

How naïve and wrong they were.

On Becoming a Hardliner in 2 Easy Lessons

Ari L. NoonanSports

I was not fortunate enough to have been born with a genetic disposition toward reading a newspaper critically and thoroughly.

An indelible childhood memory found my perennially exhausted father retreating to his favorite living room chair every evening after dinner, the local newspaper tucked under his arm.

Page 1 was a cinch every time.

Then the problems would set in. For a moment, Pop would open the 8-column newspaper above him, arms extended, to keep the 16 columns of newsprint aloft.

You could practically place a tick-tocking metronome at either elbow.

The Girl in Fairfax with the Single Peculiar Idea

Ari L. NoonanSports

Between marriages a few years ago, I was dating a religious woman in the Fairfax District.

In the early stages, she coveted only one peculiar idea that I soon came to admire. Between our dates, which were desultory, she suggested what seemed like a novel way to communicate. Instead of using the telephone, she said, let us exchange letters — at least during our getting-acquainted period. Strictly writing. No calls.