Not from around here: The election for Yolo County district attorney is still a year away, but it’s already gotten nasty.
Front-runner Jeff Reisig, the brains behind the West Sacramento gang injunction, was handpicked by his boss, the soon-to-be-retiring Dave Henderson. His campaign Web site plays up his Yolo County roots: “Many of the qualities that first brought me to live in Yolo County almost 18 years ago remain the same today.”
But the Web site doesn’t point out that Reisig has been living and voting in the North Natomas area of Sacramento for the last five years, having only moved back to Davis in June, right before announcing his candidacy for district attorney.His opponent Pat Lenzi, who prosecutes child molesters in the district attorney’s office, has shopped the carpetbagger message around to Reisig’s endorsers and the press, but so far it seems no one is paying attention.“It’s an old-fashioned hit piece,” Reisig complained, saying he dares anyone to challenge the depth of his connection or commitment to Yolo County.
But Lenzi said Reisig and his boss have been out of touch with Yolo citizens. “I just think the DA needs to be more involved in the community.”
Take, for example, the community of West Sacramento, where Lenzi said if she were district attorney she at least would have talked to the people in the neighborhoods of Broderick and Bryte before imposing lifetime curfews on them.
An idea before its time: Bites has no idea if the latest Rube Goldberg contraption disguised as a Kings arena plan has any meaningful prospects. Angelo Tsakopoulos is pushing another land grab, opening the east county to development in exchange for using some of his profits to build the basketball palace. But so far, there doesn’t seem to be a lot of interest. Bites chalks it up to boondoggle fatigue.
Bites understands the Maloofs are frustrated with Sacramento’s failure to build them a new arena. After all, professional sports long have depended on government welfare (and don’t think bending zoning rules to make developers and teams rich isn’t a form of welfare) to make ends meet.
But here’s an idea: The Maloofs are running a business, right? They want to grow their business and make more money. What if they—and don’t flip out here—what if they invested their own money? If this investment didn’t pay off, that would be unfortunate, but perhaps they could find some other line of work. Bites knows it’s a radical notion, a new kind of economy in which business spends money to make money. We could call it capitalism! No? You’re right; nobody will go for that.
Leave ’em laughing: Michael Newdow always seems so dour. Every time he appears on TV or in the newspaper, he comes off as some sort of atheist sourpuss who just wants to steal the joy of Jesus Christ’s love from our children’s hearts.
Which is weird, because the emergency-room doctor who has been trying to get God out of the Pledge of Allegiance is actually a total cut-up.
Take, for example, the traveling roadshow Newdow has put together to spread his First Amendment gospel between court appearances. It’s part Schoolhouse Rock and part Raffi for the civil-liberties set.
Newdow will bring his presentation to Sheldon High School Performing Arts Center on November 22. (Tickets are a measly $5 for adults and $3 for students.) Some of the musical numbers include “So help me God he didn’t say it,” a little ditty Newdow composed to bust the myth that George Washington uttered the words “So help me God” at his first inauguration. There’s the sing-along “Liberty and Justice for All” and the popular “Dinosaur song,” which Newdow wrote for his daughter and which provides a little natural history lesson and ample opportunities for the kiddies to growl and roar like their favorite extinct giant saurians.
Newdow said he hopes the show will shed some light on his cause and still entertain.
“I’m just trying to show that I’m not some maniac out there trying to get God out of society. It’s about someone who is trying to fight for equality for everyone, which the Constitution is clearly all about.”