Look Out Gutter, Here I Come
And so, true to the cravenly form to which he happily has become addicted, Mayor I Love Me is once again stepping down into the gutter where he feels comfortable.
Like a dreary, whipped prizefighter reacting to the bell for the dreaded final round, the Mayor has leaped into an already messy fray.
Not to heal it but to exacerbate the trouble.
What Courage?
Displaying the courage of an elephant in a zoo, Mayor I Love Me has summoned his fellow Hispanic toadies to join him in another, formal spit-in on the LAPD.
At 5:30, the Mayor and all soldiers in his Mexican Mafia are scheduled to assemble in mid-town, the Presbyterian church at Wilshire and Berendo, to sharpen their fangs.
Absent on Purpose
The Mayor who may have deliberately taken himself out of the country to avoid the temptation of joining in the infamous May Day march for rights for illegal Hispanics will lead a procession and candlelight vigil tonight at MacArthur Park.
Illegals and the politicians who love em who could not get elected without them are supposed to step off from Immanuel Presbyterian at 6:40.
A Headstart
Hours after the first MacArthur Park march, Mayor I Love Me ran back to Los Angeles like a little boy whose pants had been set afire.
Even before reaching the city limits, he was surpassing Police Chief Willie (My Boy) Bratton in condemning scores of cops he claimed committed abuse at the march. Who needed to see what had happened? That is for sticklers.
Outpacing His People
Worried aides frantically tried to calm down the Mayor because he was firing acidic grenades at the whole LAPD choir in Spanish and English faster than even the illegals could unleash their own eyewitness fury.
How unseemly would it look, Mayor I Love Me, if you who were not present, ranted as if you were suffering from permanent puerility? What is that? Its your style. Oh, I see.
Not Even Once?
I cannot recall a single public occasion in the last two years when Mayor I Love Me has acted like the adult in the room.
He has been too busy shamelessly, obsequiously toadying up to his constituency of illegals.
At no point in the last 16 days has the Mayor worn the mantle of leadership.
He has flounced around in the gutter like a sparrow in a muddy birdbath, backpatting the illegals and liberals who have called for the heads of Chief Willie My Boy and every cop not named Diaz.
Flagging Immortality
I think the Mayors goal is to wind up with his handsome mug permanently imprinted on the national flag of Mexico, the land he truly loves.
Unlike Americas best-known Hispanic politician, Gov. Bill Richardson of New Mexico, nothing is subtle, and little is classy about Mayor I Love Me.
He performs like a seal who fell victim to amnesia halfway through his training. Reliably, he can be counted upon to obey his worst instincts in every Los Angeles crisis. History is the proof.
Naming Names
When studied more than cursorily, Mayor I Love Me gives Mexicans, legal and illegal, a bad name.
I am waiting for him to behave for the first time like a leader.
