Small Wonders: Kim Kardashian for mayor

Dear Kim,

I hear you want to run for mayor of my hometown, Glendale, California.

I'm sure by now you've discovered one doesn't “run for mayor” of Glendale. No. One first runs for City Council and then wins the annual intra-council rock-paper-scissors contest to become mayor. Or loses it. No one's really sure how it works.

Though I now live in neighboring Burbank, as a son of Glendale (a “Glendalian?”) I felt compelled to write and say this: Run, Kimmy! Run!

At this moment, all nine of my readers are angrily sending nasty-grams asking if I've lost my mind. Maybe I have. But I welcome your ample, well-rounded assets occupying a chair in our local star chamber. No pun intended.

I admit, however, that my motives are not entirely unselfish. Your brand — er, family is one of my guilty pleasures. I'm not a fan of the K-shows, nor is my DVR set to record them. But I marvel at your faux-lebrity; I find it hard to change the channel when I see a Kardashian in her penthouse or mansion agonizing over what to wear to the photo shoot, who's pregnant and who's not, or which rapper/professional athlete is rumored to be next in line for speed dating.

We're all human.

Besides, bringing your special brand of sexy, personal drama to our little corner of the world would give this columnist a bountiful source of material. The possibility that you might repost this to your 8.5-million Facebook followers and 14-plus million Twitter-heads hasn't escaped me, either. Nothing would make me happier than to see this newspaper's website crash under the ensuing inundation of hits.

You like to be seen. I like to be read. I think we understand each other.

Glendale always has had a case of Los Angeles-envy. Becoming the first step on your catwalk to higher office may go far to satisfy those cravings. Not since the Mario Lopez fence-height scandal have feathers been this ruffled in our humble burg.

You see, unlike your detractors, Kim, I don't think you're unintelligent. I know you're smart. Everything you do is for the purpose of furthering your brand. You know exactly who you are, what you bring to the table and how to get what you want. You are as qualified for office as any other concerned Californian who wants to make a difference.

Frankly, after Arnold Schwarzenegger got elected — twice! — I pretty much gave up on the credibility of our voters anyway.

Wanting to be mayor of Glendale because “it's like Armenian Town,” as you put it, is a noble cause. But Glendale is so much more than that. We already have a respected history of Armenian representatives in local politics: Larry Zarian, Bob Yousefian, Rafi Manoukian and Ara Najarian, to name a few.

So if you're going to run, Kimmy, please consider a wider platform. Again, no pun intended.

Before you qualify, though, you'll need to establish residence and get to know us. I'm looking forward to bumping into you squeezing avocados for freshness at Whole Foods, noshing late-night after-party waffles at Conrad's, or getting your stiletto heels fixed at Zinke's Shoe Repair.

I know you like to shop. No doubt you've heard of our elegant, trend-setting fashion mall. People drive from all over SoCal to shop there. But if the Eagle Rock Plaza isn't up to your standards, you can always try the Americana on Brand. It's OK, too.

Haute cuisine, oui! Check out Mario's Deli — the house combo sub is the greatest sandwich you'll ever have — Big Jim's Donuts and, of course, Damon's Steak House. Just be careful with the mai tais at Damon's. One is not enough. Two is too many. Three is — not enough.

And I highly recommend Ernie's Barber Shop for your hairstyling needs.

If the wild life of Glendale ever gets to be too much, let me be the first to invite you next door to Burbank, the biggest small town in greater L.A. I'll buy you a slice of pie at the Cobalt Café, then we can take batting practice at the Batcade. But unless you like secondhand clothes, don't get your hopes up for couture shopping. Rumor is we have a decent mall in Burbank, but I've never seen it.

So do this story-starved local newspaper columnist a favor.

Run, Kim. Please run.

Not just for 30% of the population, but for all of us. Not just for the ratings. And not just to get a good seat at Carousel Restaurant. You've got a great seat no matter where you go.

OK, that pun was totally intended.

PATRICK CANEDAY is author of the book “Crooked Little Birdhouse.” Friend him on Facebook. Contact him at Read more at

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