By Dorothea Warren Santa Monica
I read Mr. Keats’ letter with amusement (SMDP, June 11, page 4). Lately, I use your letter page as a way to blow off steam. I have tons of unsent drafts I don’t send because the city is driving me crazy. Good thing Mr. Keats had his watering can, or the plant police would have taken him to task if he had been using a hose to water. They might have threatened him with a $250 watering ticket.
In a city as confused as ours, it seem so absurd that as I walk my dog in the morning I pass pockets of pooch poop, garbage and filth that would rival the inner city, homeless people in their usual morning locations, cars double parked in the same spots in the alley every day for years, and absolutely no enforcement of traffic laws in my neighborhood but there is someone to hand out tickets for watering your plants or growing your hedges. Tell me what is going on in this city? Has the City Council lost its mind? And what does it say about us that we just keep voting the same machine in every election?
Don’t say “call the city.” I have no results. They ignore you to death. It’s an art here.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on June 12, 2004. Read the original PDF.