Height of Arrogance: Let Rodman Go One-on-One With D.A.

I got a CD player a few months ago and encouraged my next-door neighbors to let me know if the volume ever bothered them. After I revived them, they thanked me for my considerateness. That, my friends, may explain why I’ve been voted “West Coast Neighbor of the Year” seven years running.

Then there’s Dennis Rodman.

His philosophy about living near other human beings seems to be, “If I’m not being a big enough jerk, let me know, and I’ll try to be a bigger one.”

It’d be one thing if Rodman lived in the hills somewhere, with only woodchucks and coyotes to annoy. But he’s chosen to park his act in recent years on the sands of Newport Beach where real people live.

And like the yakker in the movie theater who thinks he’s amusing, Rodman doesn’t know when to turn it off.

Last weekend, the Odd Man may have outdone himself.

Not content to just throw loud parties into the wee hours, he turns regular Friday nights into Mardi Gras celebrations. Last weekend, Rodman celebrated his 40th birthday.

Not surprisingly, it wasn’t a small affair with a few friends at a corner table. No, Rodman emerged in midafternoon from a helicopter on the beach behind his house as an estimated 300 people looked on. Police say the chopper may not have actually touched down on the sand before the birthday boy hopped out, but that doesn’t make the helicopter’s presence on the beach any less Rodmanesque.

Then, there was the rock band providing music on the beach--without the necessary permit, police say.

Police broke up the party (actually, Rodman agreed to move it to a restaurant in Newport Beach), and order was restored.

I guess you could laugh off Rodman’s antics, as we usually do. After all, Dennis needs publicity the way the rest of us need water. If we didn’t write about him, he’d probably die. No one wants that on his conscience.

Rodman is one of those guys who will do a good deed on Monday and then treat people with complete disrespect on Tuesday.

That’s why it doesn’t faze him to throw a party that entertains lots of people, even if others are going nuts because of the raucous noise.

But that tale has been told before.

A police spokesman says Rodman has racked up $8,500 in fines, accrued in amounts that increase with each violation. That’s pocket change to the former NBA star, pro wrestler and movie star (charitable, aren’t I?).

At some point, we have to ask what would happen to anyone else who caused the cops so much time and trouble.

I did ask that of Newport Beach police spokesman Steve Shulman, and I may have detected some “Rodman Fatigue” in his voice. “We do our best to be as objective as possible,” Shulman says. “It’s critically important that we don’t treat him differently than we treat anyone else.”

Shulman says Rodman wasn’t arrested Saturday because officers didn’t feel it was warranted. I won’t argue here whether people with Rodman’s history have been taken to jail for less, but police probably figured they’d have a bigger problem if they hauled Rodman off.

Since last June, police have responded about 50 times to complaints about problems at Rodman’s beach house, Shulman says.

In a diplomatic understatement, Shulman notes, “I don’t think he’s demonstrated to people who live around him that he’s concerned about the noise level.”

Still, Shulman concedes, it’s not as though carloads of residents are begging the police to lower the boom on Rodman. Some people complain, and police respond, he says.

Dennis needs a time-out.

The cops say they’re taking a small list of charges from Saturday’s birthday party to the district attorney’s office.

I’d like to see the D.A. come up with an imaginative community-service option for the frisky 40-year-old. I’d thumb through the law books for something that would humble him, if that’s possible.

Roadside litter removal sounds pretty cool. Isn’t there a stadium somewhere that needs its steps cleaned? Some latrine duty, perhaps?

It’s time to cut the 6-foot-8 Rodman down to size.

In his NBA prime, nobody could stop Rodman from doing his thing.

Let’s see if the district attorney’s office has game.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821; by writing to him at The Times’ Orange County edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626; or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com.