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Too Bad Hugo Fell Dead

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Lucky for our ol’ pal Chris that the Los Angeles Titanic still was a dreaded gleam in its adoptive pappy’s blind eye when, in the autumn of 1492, Mr. Columbus arrived at these golden shores.

Sure enough, 2½ years later, dishonest journalists from the Titanic named Linthicum, Mehta, Rainey, Reston, Finnegan, Lopez, Zahniser would have trumpeted the news:

“Man Named for Ohio’s Capital Believed to Have Discovered a Country – Somewhere.”

Ah, the Titanic, always 18th with the news.

Two days after Tuesday’s primary election for mayor of Los Angeles, the acidly partisan left-wing reporters identified above made the astounding mutual finding that the May 21 finalists, City Councilman Eric (Ain’t My Fault) Garcetti and City Controller Wendy (Vote for Me Because I Am a Girl, Even at a Husky 51) Greuel, are identical twins.

Their stories today complained that even though each candidate has spoken 49 million words and each journalist has written thousands of words, not until the afterglow did they deduce that Wendy and Eric stand for nothing and promised only to trap smoke with their left hand. 

In office at the helm of a failing city since the turn of the century, Mr. Garcetti and Ms. Greuel say they have made no mistakes, have fostered only profitable policies, and they foresee a sunny future if they are elected – although they can’t specify how they will create surging economic prosperity, how they will invent near full employment, how they will pull the city back from threatened bankruptcy.

Only in this morning’s edition, when it was too late for voters to say “oops,” did the journalistic geniuses make these discoveries.

During the campaign, when it came to reviewing their records of portraying their prospective terms in the mayor’s chair, the two candidates mouthed nonsense as if they were reciting the sacred Gettysburg Address.
Mayhaps, more than 16 percent of victimized voters would have participated if the Titanic had honestly reported what they kept blabbering instead of distracting readers with the size of his shoes or the color of her dress.

Since few residents witnessed the almost 50 candidate forums, voters might have chosen a candidate other than these two hollow-minded mannequins.

Room for Me in There, Boys?

Without evident complaint from her husband, Ms. Greuel has been sleeping with the greasy boys from the city’s labor unions.

And is she being richly paid back by them (dirty millions in support for her campaign) even before she pays them back – in naked public view at the “bargaining” table.

Acting like a naive schoolgirl, unintentionally on the make, Ms. Greeuel blubbered the same l’il girlie line at every public stop:

“I don’t want to just be the mayor, I want to do the job.”

What does mean?

“Aw, gee, mister. I am just a young thing. You can’t expect me to know.”

Charges against her went blithely unchecked by the Titanic because she is theirs, a girl of the left.

Major domo of the City Council for six of his 12 years, Mr. Garcetti looked his blind supporters in the eye, one of his favorite pastimes. He swore to them if it weren’t for his sui generis fiscal acuity, City Hall would be in the sewer today instead of only having a close enough view to smell it.

Dutifully and lazily, the incurious reporters from the Titanic wrote merely hearts and flowers about the two of them – until it was too late, after Election Day.

Too bad Chavez had died.

He would have loved the way the Titanic boys and girls manipulated their readers.