Patt Morrison did a little devil’s arithmetic to come up with the next mayor of Los Angeles in case Hillary Clinton is elected president.
She’s got a Cabinet to fill. And who’s her California main man? Who was there for her way back, before Obamamania, bringing in Latino votes in sheaves?
Antonio Villaraigosa. Mr. Future Secretary of Education or Labor or HHS Villaraigosa. Instead of running for reelection in 2009, he’s out of the Getty House and off to the Beltway. Adios, City of Angels and psychotic traffic; hola, City of Lobbyists and cheap taxi rides.
But what happens to us? L.A. will need a mayor, pronto.
I have just the man.
The mastermind mayor, the man who can whip a civic entity into shape faster than Richard Simmons on crack. He’s tanned, he’s rested and he’s ready for some Hollywood prime time—Rudy Giuliani!
What’s that? Is he available? Not long ago, he was reeling in six figures for a single speech. Two weeks ago, he couldn’t entice a hundred people out to hear him talk for free in Florida.
Of course he’s available.
The reasons why she thinks he’d be great—he’d increase parking-ticket revenue, he’d stop ex-New Yorkers from talking about how great things were in the city they left, he’d pick fights with Cardinal Mahony —are more digs at transplangelenos than exultations of Giuliani. I do, however, know quite a few people who would be thrilled. I’m not one of them.