Delicious riddance.
Obnoxious, ethically challenged Wendy (Vote for Me Because I Am a Girl) Greuel, like a wheezing container of Drano, has slid through the pipes, gurgling down the drain – please, please for keeps.
Her comprehensive whipping last night by Eric Garcetti in the mayor’s race was as deserved as any punishment meted out in recent years in Los Angeles politics.
She ran her tottering campaign like a poker player dazed to find himself broke after the opening hand.
What plan? What logic?
Boundaries, she reasons, are for anyone not named Greuel. Embarrssingly undisciplined, she would promise to cough a spitball from North Hollywood to Agoura if she thought it would net one vote or one dollar.
Her day-to-day dependability looked like a chart drawn by a man with a tic in both elbows.
Which Wendy are we getting today?
Here’s Mama
[img]1670|right|Ms. Gruel||no_popup[/img]Wildly in love with money, she involuntarily morphed green at every debate where the exceedingly well-bred Mr. Garcetti, a gentleman of class, spoke modestly of his privileged upbringing.
A career girl through her 20s and 30s until she met her husband Dean, she became a wife and a mother – don’t get me started – relatively late in life. She used her 9-year-old son like a cheap vaudeville prop.
“Look at me. I am a mom, too.”
To the amazement of all but his associates, Mr. Garcetti seems to have traveled everywhere, studied everything written down and accomplished all tasks in his mere 42 years. Jealously, Ms. Greuel kept auditioning shpiels to try and appear his worldly equal.
In every other sentence, she found a way to insert Bill Clinton, Tom Bradley, DreamWorks and her everloving son, who obviously did not choose the mom he has.
Her campaign has been in disarray for months. Only whole inheritances of DWP You Will Pay Us Back funding, in the millions, kept her reasonably competitive.
Which Way, Wendy? Both?
Not accidentally was Ms. Greuel’s unruly, unhappy and controversially committed original staff uprooted after her disappointing second place finish 2½ months ago in the primary.
Today it looks like an elderly man whop tumbled down every stairwell in the Empire State building.
An emotionally insecure, permanently stressed-out middle-aged woman is not what City Hall needs in the gun chair, even if not all that much authority is vested in a Los Angeles mayor.
She can be as ferocious, unpredictable and destructive as an Oklahoma tornado.
Her integrity rises at least as high as her favorite anklets.
Her depression expanding, Ms. Greuel saved one of her most vicious performances for the final weeks.
She riled the black community to a fever with a scurrilously framed IRS-style campaign targeting former rival Kevin James, who decided to back Mr. Garcetti instead of Whacky Wendy.
Our Man at City Hall has said that Mr. Garcetti promised to name Mr. James deputy mayor.
Ms. Greuel, we hear, nearly ripped off her skin.
She vowed to get revenge for two reasons:
- She was stung because Mr. James shrewdly chose to endorse Mr. Garcetti over Ms. Greuel, and
- Because Mr. James had caught her in numerous alleged ethical violations a few months ago that seem to have wounded her.
This afternoon as Ms. Greuel treats her merited election wounds, the rest of us can whistle “Mr. Lucky” because we are.
