S o inured are Southern Californians to...

S o inured are Southern Californians to strange sights that the spectacle of a 6-foot rabbit talking on Rodeo Drive to a bearded man dressed in a sheet and carrying an antique lantern provoked no curiosity at all. The shoppers kept on shopping, the Rollses rolling by.

“Eh, what’s up, Doc?”

“I’m Diogenes, still persisting in the quest that I began in ancient Greece: looking for an honest man.”

“You’re 2,000 years old? Say, lemme fix you up with Mel Brooks.”

“Is he honest?”

“I suppose so, Doc, but the point is, he could give you a job, get you into better duds than these.”

“No, thank you. It’s essential to my quest that I refuse all alms and gratuities. Still, I confess, it all sometimes seems so futile. The barrels I sleep in are as splintery as ever, and the standard of virtue today is certainly no improvement over Periclean Athens. Even the people who tell me where to search betray themselves with cynical leers. They sent me to Washington, to Sacramento, then to that white tower in downtown Los Angeles--all nests of politicians, who scattered before the beams of my lamp like those kitchen insects . . . what do you Americans call them?”

“Cockroaches. But you better not call ‘em that here.”

“Why?”

“Because this is Beverly Hills, babe. Any cockroach that crosses the city limits has to get its passport stamped and change its name to Mahogany Scarab III.”

“By Zeus! You’re an honest man! Except that you’re a . . .”

“A wabbit.”

“Indeed. Does that disqualify you, I wonder?”

“I dunno, Doc. I guess I do tell it like it is, even when Elmer Fudd or Yosemite Sam wants to shoot me for it. But look, Doc. Lemme lay some honesty on you. Instead of dragging that lamp around for another 2,000 years, there’s something better you can do with it.”

“What?”

“You can lend it to us to start the seventh annual Beverly Hills holiday lighting ceremony at 7 p.m. Friday in front of the Regent Beverly Wilshire Hotel. It’ll feature stars like Lloyd Bridges, Pat Boone, Jason Hervey and Tatyana Ali, plus Warner Bros. characters like me. It’ll benefit Childrens Hospital in Los Angeles. And it’s free.”

“But isn’t this ceremony just . . . what do you call it? Glitz?”

“Yeah, Doc, but look at it this way. It’s grown-ups who put up those lights, but it’s really the kids who enjoy ‘em. And later on, when the kids have grown up, and they think back on the holidays and the lights and stuff, that’s when they’re as honest as they’re ever gonna be.”

“Do you really think it will work?”

“Gimme a carrot, Doc, and I’ll let you rub my foot for luck.”