Rare is the Monday night that Mr. Silbiger does not gripe to his colleagues that City Hall has neglected once again to email or to post-card a sufficient number of residents about the central topic on the weekly agenda.
This pathetic scenario cries for common sense, which is in short supply in certain quarters.
Litmus Test
If the blooming activists, whose cause Mr. Silbiger so blindly caresses to his bosom, genuinely were committed, they would stand up from their couches and inquire.
Unfailingly, however, my liberal friends believe entitlement supercedes personal responsibility.
Therefore, their logic dictates that Mr. Fulwood, as the chief executive of Culver City, owes it to them to magically appear in the living room of each incurious deadbeat and serve an engraved invitation, on a fastidiously polished tray, to the next City Council meeting.
Challenging Their Authenticity
True activists, Mr. Silbiger should realize, dont hang out on their couches, waiting, pining away, hoping to be invited. They plunge in.
Arent their computers working? They can dial up culvercity.org or this newspaper.
Arent their minds working?
Arent their shoes working? Culver City is such a small town that you can take a sidewalk to City Hall from virtually every neighborhood.
Same Schedule Year Around
It is not as if the meetings are convened at a secret location.
On 46 to 48 Monday nights of the year, the City Council meets at the same hour in the same Council Chambers with the same ample, free underground parking available.
How sharp do you have to be to figure that out?
Still, the gullible nice guy, Mr. Silbiger, jots down their complaints and faithfully relays them to a community audience.
This is a case where Mr. Silbigers beautiful kindness he wants to believe in the goodness of people trumps common sense every time.
How His Peers React
Among his colleagues, Mr. Silbigers pronouncement is a running joke. Has been for most of the 5 1/2 years he has been on the City Council. They can move their lips in synch when he is talking
If I were not convinced of the sincerity of Mr. One-Note Silbiger, I would swear he is pre-programmed to robotically issue this deplorable message at each City Council meeting.
Equating Niceness and Gullibility
At this point in past essays about Mr. Silbiger, I have remarked about what a nice man he is.
You could even argue he is the sweetest person on the City Council.
The trouble is, he presents himself as a plump, irresistible target by repeatedly shlepping the same wheezing script.
Only his authentic gentleness as a creature softens the criticism that he inadvertently begs for.
