[img]1979|right|Mark Ridley-Thomas||no_popup[/img]On purpose, again, County Supervisor Mark Ridley-Thomas forgot to don his anti-gaffe business suit when he was dressing for work on Monday morning.
Shame on him.
Bowing low to his worst political instincts, the County Supervisor, laughing off temptation to do the right thing, folded his knees and went for the clown moment, as he too frequently does.
Locking arms with the lowest caste in his district, refusing to be the elected adult of the moment, Mr. Ridley-Thomas rolled around in the dirt, caked himself with embarrassing mud, and thumbed his occasionally sensitive nose at the LAPD.
I hope the cops remember that the next time the Supervisor runs to them and pleads for help — or for support for a pet cause.
Like a brat 55 years younger than his real age, Mr. Ridley-Thomas splashily joined a group of other business-suited idiots protesting “police violence.” Aww. Leave the job to cleanliness-challenged college kids and their heroes, the broad unemployed brigade. They don’t know better. You, sometimes, do.
The County Supervisor is the Chuck Schumer of the West Coast. He never lets a stupid idea prevent him from waltzing in front of the nearest dozen cameras. There he was yesterday morning in the Los Angeles Titanic, his smiling mug with his hands up, in sympathy with America’s trashiest, least sincere set. Aww.
Mr. Ridley-Thomas reminds me of a man supposedly trying to reform himself. When he has been behaving decently for too long, an internal alarm sounds. He reverts to easy negativism.
Mr. Ridley-Thomas’s last undisciplined visit to the dark side came barely a few weeks ago when he executed an end-around on City Hall – rudimentary courtesy, be darned – huddled with the leader of the Mayme Clayton Library and Museum, then tippy-toed out of town in unmarked shoes.
Maturity. Ah, it can be so elusive for those who choose to ignore it. His silly effort stings as much as he is stung by criticism, which by now should be an engraved lesson.
