One-car candidate: Some people will do anything...

One-car candidate: Some people will do anything to get a parking place. Eileen Anderson, for instance, is running for mayor.

You may recall Anderson as the bikini-clad woman who danced at the corner of Main and Temple streets on weekday afternoons from 1972 to 1987 to protest alleged mistreatment of her by Secret Service agents during a long-ago campaign.

She finally gave up because parking was too expensive--and because Mayor Bradley refused her request to use his parking place during his frequent absences from the city. Now she’s seeking to win his parking place for the next four years.

Anderson requested “Dancing Landmark” as her ballot designation but was turned down by the city Elections Division, which explained, “Landmarks are stationary things.”

So she settled for “Singer, Dancing Candidate,” a title she has used in previous attempts for office. (She had to go court to win permission for that description.)

Anderson is attempting to collect 500 signatures to qualify for the ballot. “You have to get 1,000 in my situation,” she said, “because when you get them at random you never know if they’re good.”

Yup, there are a lot of eccentrics out there.

List of the day: Anderson wasn’t the only local candidate forced to change her ballot title.

William Thomas Martin III, a City Council hopeful, was refused “Unemployed Househusband-Mom” because it could cause “gender confusion,” the Elections Division ruled. His new title: “Unemployed Househusband Father.”

Some other rejected ballot designations (and the descriptions) that were substituted in previous elections:

* “Wage slave” (became “Worker”).

“Peace Activist, Cook” (became “Cook”).

* “Pro-Gun Clergyman” (became “Rifle Association Manager”).

“Anti-Police Abuse Advocate” (designation was left blank).

* “People’s Rights Activist” (became “Female Impersonator”).

Then there was one-time City Council candidate Jack McGrath, who sought permission to list his first name only. He was told: Both names, Jack.

Knuckle sandwich to go, please: While the newer breed of nonsmoking, nondrinking journalist is considered in some ways softer than his or her predecessors, a recent menu in our own Times cafeteria offers some macho evidence to the contrary.

His and Her Honors, the Mayor: Noting the presence of 52 mayoral candidates, one city worker was overheard suggesting that each one be allowed to serve “one week a year.” Individually, they would do less damage, the reasoning went.

miscelLAny:

The 1928 Jewelry Company of Burbank says that, for every $20 saxophone pin it sells, it will donate $1 to help pay off the federal debt. Four trillion buyers to go.