Spencer Pratt, please call me.
We have to talk.
You say you want to be mayor of Los Angeles, but do you really?
I know that being a candidate freed you from the unknown behind you reality TV career he went down the cliff. You’ve got CEOs backing you up, fans clamoring for you, and you’ve managed to get attention on social media.
But sometimes you may have to answer questions from reporters that you’ve been avoiding.
And if you win, you’ll have to drive to City Hall five, six, seven days a week, and I don’t know if you saw my column a few weeks ago, but the fountain on the south lawn hasn’t worked in about 60 years. If you get elected, you better put mold in your lunch box, because no one has figured out how to fix it.
So that’s true, pretty much. And the unions will want what they want, and the social workers in the City Council will be waiting, especially after President Trump blew the whistle on you and confirmed your MAGA credentials.
There are over 30,000 people waiting for their sidewalks to be fixed (I’m not exaggerating) but the money isn’t there, and if you hire a few thousand police officers like you promised, the city will be in danger for the next ten years and you’ll need to borrow money to buy a donut.
So call me, as I say, because I think there’s still time to change your mind.
If you choose to continue, and if you actually win, it might feel like you’re following those reality shows you did called “I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here,” and you might end up praying for the show to be canceled. The mayor’s hours are long, and everywhere you go, someone will want you to fix this problem or that, and as you wander the halls of government you’ll think back on your campaign promises and hear the endless echo of a line from HL Mencken:
“For every complex problem there is a clear, simple, and correct answer.”
Can I agree to something?
I feel guilty about all of this.
Not to sound presumptuous, but I feel responsible for the fact that he is in the running for a job.
Like you, I’ve been yelling problems with LA management, and I have been doing it for years. But I had the good sense not to run for mayor.
Why is that?
Because unlike you, I know that fixing is not as easy as we would like it to be.
When Karen Bass started working, I had a long conversation with her about her homelessness program, among other things. At the end of the day, he asked for my opinion.
I reminded him that as much as people would like the city’s elected chief to clear the streets quickly, the mayor is limited by sharing power with the City Council.
For drug and untreated mental illness epidemics under regional jurisdiction.
With uncertain funding from the nation’s capital.
Global forces have transformed the economy and created staggering levels of inequality made worse by high housing costs.
Bass knew all that, but he said that having worked in Sacramento and DC, and having built relationships with district administrators, he would be able to create better programs and get better results.
So how did you do?
Not good. And then there is the fire.
As I’ve said before, leaving the country despite predictions of increased wildfire danger was probably the worst mistake of his political career.
I don’t need to remind you of that. Having lost your home in the Palisades, you know that Bass did it slowly, then stumbled in rebuilding, then contributing to the Fire Department’s failure to adequately spread and extinguish the fire that turned into a wildfire.
In short, leave yourself open to challenge.
And he probably can’t believe how lucky he is to be his November competition, if you both defeat Council Member Nithya Raman and other candidates in the June 2 primary.
I don’t hold it against you that you have never worked in government or politics before. These days, most voters choose foreigners. But it would help if you did something meaningful at some point in your life, like running a successful business or volunteering at a food bank. Were you a high school president, or were you in the Boy Scouts? Anything could happen.
Not that being the boyfriend and later husband of someone on the MTV reality show “The Hills,” which chronicled the career of a woman who went from “Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County” to an internship at Teen Vogue, can’t prepare a young man for the role.
In this tradition, you can ride that all the way to the White House.
But a flimsy resume would explain, Spencer, why you’ve been taking so many social media-fueled potshots at Bass without offering anything of substance.
Let’s arrest the drug zombies.
Okay, so what?
I would advise you to read the first book by my colleagues Doug Smith and Andrew Khouri on what you can and cannot do about homelessness as a mayor in LA Obviously, you have a lot to do. In fact, I’m reminded of a line from a Philadelphia newspaper columnist years ago, when he talked about a politician who was unfit for the job: He’s been standing in shallow water so long, he doesn’t realize he can’t swim.
If I were you, I would consider the fact that President Trump made the mistake of promising a simple fix. He was going to launch a massive infrastructure program. He would bring health care reforms that were better and cheaper for everyone. He would have lowered consumer prices on Day One, and here we are, with millions of people wondering how they’re going to pay their bills while Trump fakes it to avoid paying the IRS.
All this being said, I’m glad you decided to run for office, because elected officials need to be constantly reminded that their jobs are not safe, even if the challengers are in over their heads. I’d probably like to see you win, because that’s a reality show I can be sure to watch.
And I say this despite the fact that you once told your talk show pal Alex Jones — who insisted that 9/11 was an inside job and that the Sandy Hook massacre of 20 children was a hoax — that the ice melt is overblown. Or, as explained to Jones, “We’ve all seen the pictures of polar bears swimming in fresh ice.”
When the general election rolls around, and the ice begins to break, will you be able to swim?
steve.lopez@latimes.com
