Tag: Marco Santana

When The Phone Doesn’t Ring…

A mere nine thousand people voted in the Special Election…as of yesterday at 10:29 pm.  There is low turnout, and then there is lowwww turnout.  Holy mackerel, this is what a walkaway campaign conducted by the voters looks like.

Keep in mind these are mail-in ballots. All you had to do was bubble in one name, stick it in the envelope and leave it by the door for the mailman.   Ease of voting doesn’t get any lazier than this.

Less than 800 people went to the polls.

Approximately 280,000 reside in Council District 6, 118K are registered. 7.67% of that number partook.

To quote George Jones: when your phone doesn’t ring, it’ll be me.

Imelda Padilla spent in excess of $100 a vote. Marisa Alcaraz nearly that much. Marco Santana, whose IG feed was filled with astroturf images of him “campaigning” with his dog, spent $158 per ballot. Oof.

Let us not forget also the shadowy world of last-minute mailers, where campaign finance laws go to die.

Endorsements didn’t matter.  Santana obtained the Times seal of approval, as well as the Stonewall Democratic Club and the League of Conservation Voters. Nithya Raman, progressive queen bee, endorsed. Jane Fonda herself recorded a personal message. In short, people who had nothing to do with District 6.

Doug Sierra was endorsed by the Daily News. He appeared on local TV news twice.  I thought he might prove a sleeper candidate, but 245 votes is 245 votes.

Rose Grigoryan was the sleeper.  The Armenian bloc showed up for her. She may yet edge Alcaraz for the run off.  The lower the turnout, the more tribal politics are forefronted.

Another thing that didn’t matter: panderfest forums (non-debate “debates”) hosted by advocacy organizations where everyone agrees to agree the Overton window should remain right where progressives are pointing.

So what’s going on here?  I’ll translate: the peasantry of the San Fernando Valley have an annoying habit of preferring order over chaos. Of wanting dedicated sales taxes to maintain roadways used for that purpose. Of not wanting to inhale meth pipe fumes on the Red Line on the commute to work. They tire of watching thieves walk out of stores with armloads of merchandise and no consequences. They tire of fixable problems being declared off-limits for discussion by rich assholes on the Westside.  They have little patience for alternatives to incarceration. Their portion of the urban pie may be modest and come with rough edges, but they invest between 120-160 hours per week, per household, to maintain the finger hold they have in the city. They would prefer not seeing the equity they built at the mercy of the Pig Trough Professionals downtown. They are compassionate people, not idiots, this Silent Tribe.

Three years on San Fernando Road, and counting…

Aspiring politicians who do not speak to these needs, requirements of civilization if you will -the basics- are going to be ignored.  One righteously aggrieved homeowner with a megaphone could have changed this election. Seven people were fighting over the progressive lane and the rest of the playing field was wide open. Homer Simpson could have bagged 2000 votes.

Which begs the question, why didn’t I run?  That’s what I’m asking myself today.

Dark Palms

Our Long Winter continues…

Engaging Los Angeles politics as a citizen or homeowner is to face the limits of patience. I offer a small illustrative example from the Special Election in District 6 to replace Nury Martinez:

Dakota Smith of the Times asked the candidates in a recent forum what the proper staffing level of LAPD should be. Who says we’re not talking about public safety? See, the box is being checked. Look!  

In an exercise of pure conjecture, the progressives proffered fake numbers: 9700, 9200, 8500, abolition. None of it mattered. Left unaddressed was the wee inability of the LAPD currently to recruit at all.  We are losing 50 officers a month to attrition. The recent Academy class was 27, a number only achieved under relaxed physical standards and lenient background screens following a billboard and online recruiting drive.

So, having installed a Soros D.A. and a Police Chief who banned the Blue Lives Matter flag from all precincts and tolerated a Mayor who literally kneeled before BLM and called them murderers, having de-criminalized theft, assault and civic disorder, having emptied the jails and closed four prisons; having incentivized miscreants to refuse handcuffs and turn any garden variety police encounter into a Jerry Springer-like throwdown for the benefit of social media, Los Angeles is discovering fewer and fewer are willing to sign up and now draws an academy class of 5’3″ single mothers and middle-aged recovered alcoholic ex-cops from the Midwest looking to put hay in the barn for retirement.  Six foot 23 year olds with proper upper body strength and cardio fitness? Not so much.

In a reasonable media environment the obvious question would be, if the veterans are taking early retirement or transferring to Idaho and young, fit men are not replacing them, what policy changes do you intend to make?  But our world is not reasonable and the Times does not ask. Instead the candidates are invited to play rotisserie baseball and everyone gets a pass.

So let me be the one to say it: an inverted recruitment curve is a bit like eating the seed corn. A city might get away with it for a few years, but the remorseless mathematics of scarcity take over.  Los Angeles has reached the inflection point of triaging 911 calls for lack of personnel. Is the iceberg next?

Thomas Andrews, in life as in film, could have been undone by pride as the ships designer. Instead of denying the obvious to save face for a few hours, he persuaded people to board the life boats immediately, sparing hundreds of lives.

This might be a good time to ask: who is our Thomas Andrews?  Where is is he? She? They? Public safety is the first obligation of the state. Without it, there is no commerce. Reduced commerce, lower tax base. Fewer stores and restaurants call into question the price point for houses. Zillow beckons. Starlink. Amazon. The frontier. The next great American metropolis may prove a virtual one, where people live on farms and trade direct to consumer  beef for solar panels.

I’m an urban guy. I kind of liked my city. In 2019.

Is there no one running for office or holding a position of influence willing to acknowledge our bulkheads have been breached?  Perhaps not yet five, but do we really want to put ourselves to the test?