My friend has a house

Overlooking the ocean

The view of which

Brings out much emotion

As he listens to Frank and sips his Merlot

He tells me, “It’s the way to go!”

And I ruminate that life is ironic

As I gaze through the smog

With a vodka Tonic

Geraldine Forer Spagnoli

Shortly after the state came out with the SAT 9 test scores I was contacted by a reporter from the Los Angeles Times and asked to what I attributed the dramatic increase and excellent scores at Juan Cabrillo Elementary School. He wanted to know what I had done.

Here is the truth: I didn’t do anything special.

I didn’t teach the children the lessons or how to take tests so they could develop their skills and talents. I didn’t take home the books and study or work on projects and learn to use my computer so that I could feel good about myself as a student. I didn’t do homework with them in the afternoons or read to them at night so they would know that I loved them and learning is important in my family. I didn’t do the secretarial work or clean the school or do the gardening so the school would run efficiently and be a warm, welcoming place.

Cabrillo has very strong scores because we have excellent teachers who are dedicated to the children they teach. We have bright, talented children who are self-motivated and eager to learn. We have caring and supportive parents who believe in our school. We have a support staff that is outstanding and who put children first.

I am a cheerleader. I have the easy job. It is the teachers, children, parents and staff who truly make a school a success. My sincere congratulations to all of you for all that you do and all that you are. I know the year ahead is going to be fabulous.

I’m Cabrillo and I’m proud.

Patricia A. Cairns, principal

Juan Cabrillo Elementary School

For all of you in Malibu

Who live on Hillside Slopes —

Aren’t you glad you’re not a target,

By the “wetland’s planning folks?”

They cannot say your land is clay,

Nor home for wetlands birds.

But I’m sure they’ll think of something,

To disturb you that’s absurd.

The rumors go, from “in the know,”

That the Malibu Mountain Fox,

Will soon make the endangered list,

And put us on the spot.

Meanwhile, I hear that the “run-off law”

For excessive winter rains —

Will provide an excuse for their abuse,

To target your domain!

At least for now, you’re safe somehow,

Until that wily bunch —

With their wetlands mumbo jumbo,

Decide you’re next to crunch.

Phineas P. Fogbottom

“Twelfth Dog Night” and “Eden”

One knows a stage performance is funny when even those notoriously jaded beings known as “the band” are laughing. One also knows it’s fit for kids when those notoriously fidgety little beings are paying attention.

Troubadour Theater Company’s “Twelfth Dog Night” is the latest in what appears to be that troupe’s “We Spit Shakespeare Better Than Anyone” series. This one combines Troubadour’s clowning with the music of the ’70s band Three Dog Night.

And Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night,” of course. That’s the one in which the twin brother and sister, Sebastian and Viola, are separated by shipwreck. He merely travels around town waiting to meet up with his sister. She, however, gets to dress in men’s clothing and become an attendant to Duke Orsino, who wonders why he is attracted to what appears to be a man. Meanwhile, the duke’s beloved, Olivia, takes a shine to Viola. And so forth.

The songs? Replacing Shakespeare’s ditties are “Old Fashioned Love Song,” “Black and White” (for a letter-writing scene) “One” (for Malvolio’s imprisonment), “Never Been to Spain” (in this case, “Santa Monica,” as Sebastian and his traveling companion, Antonio, tour the sea-coast town) and the buoyant finale, “Joy to the World.”

There are no mistakes in this production. If anything is noticeably awry, director Matt Walker, who also appears as Feste the Clown, will leap from backstage, blowing his whistle and calling a foul on the offending performer, technician or band member, charging a penalty and restarting the scene.

Walker is a one-man, three-ring circus, offering pratfalls, hat tricks and improvised dialogue, gladly and generously leaving the last laugh to a fellow improviser.

As the twins, Michelle Johnson and Kent Davis are ill-matched physically, to hilarious effect, but evenly matched in comedic and vocal talent.

At her every entrance, Carissa Barnett livens up the stage as a gleeful Maria, wearing an ill-concealed fat suit that occasionally “rides up” and must be put right by a fellow actor.

Rachel Wolfe takes the petulant Olivia on a vibrant, rubber-faced run. Rick Batala lingers a bit too long on Malvolio’s monologues but compensates by playing “evil” with exactitude.

The other talents include Michael Sulprizio (Sir Toby Belch), Beth Kennedy (Antonio, on stilts throughout the performance), Briant Wells (Orsino), Timothy Groff (Sir Andrew), Michael Teele (Fabian), and Guillermo Robles, Jesse Mackey and Travis Clark as various “officers.”

The band includes Henry Phillips, Dave Barker, Kevin Robertson and Lisa Valenzuela.

If fault can be found with the production, it is that it may be too funny. The bits come too quickly to be fully absorbed — the sight gags overlap the improvised asides, which are spouted while actors are tumbling heels over heads.

For example, the troupe has included its traditional “funny walks” gag. Behind a waist-high barrier, Walker, Davis and Teele mime walking up stairs, taking escalators, floating in space, etc. While Davis takes a merry-go-round ride that is funny enough even without the plastic yellow piping meant to be his horse, we hear Barker on synthesizer playing the waltz from “Carousel.”

If laughter be the food of comedy, play on.

“Twelfth Dog Night” plays through Aug. 28, Fridays and Saturdays at 8 p.m., Miles Playhouse, 1130 Lincoln (N. of Wilshire), Santa Monica. Tel. 213.303.0096.

Stage Review

Paradise moved

By Dany Margolies

Associate Editior

Jennifer Maisel is a playwright who trusts her audience. In “Eden” at Theatre of Note, nothing is obvious, nothing is settled, nothing is told in prosaic expository form.

But her stories are human and eternal, with archetypal characters living in mundane circumstances.

The dramatis personae of Eden include the mother, daughter, bride-to-be, groom-to-be, best friend, as-yet-unknown lover and what seems to be a guardian angel. Any further information is delivered using stylized, quick glimpses that ignore traditional timelines.

The mother-daughter relationship highlights that which is traditionally said and that which should be said. The mother can’t resist ignoring her daughter’s wishes and buying her a dress, and the daughter can’t resist telling her mother she doesn’t need it. The mother also admonishes her, “Your generation, you make nothing easy. You have no appreciation of what I can do for you.”

The characters occupy a dark world. There are broad hints of AIDS, Nazi Holocaust survival, suicide attempts and long-held fears of abandonment. There are also small bits of hope: The bride may return to her faith, the daughter may find the fight still in her. The “divine spirit” always tells the “truth” but truth is relative. In the last moments, the characters are very kind to one another.

The production, directed by Dan Oliverio, is also darkly lit, probably to match the mood of the piece but also because the theater’s seats are in facing rows with much of the action taking place in the middle of the room.

Pamela Gordon is the mother, sincere, pained and mesmerizing.

David Conner as the agent of the divine is appealingly warm and comforting. Lisa Ann Morrison is the daughter, living without hope but seemingly strong enough to survive anything. Mika Walden is wonderfully free and frank as the best friend.

Alina Phelan, Jonathan Klein, Michelle Welk and Christopher DeWan round out the cast.

Eden is the name of a New York underground club that moves from night to night. Paradise can be elusive.

“Eden” appears Thursdays through Saturdays at 8 p.m. through Sept. 4 at Theatre of Note, 1517 Cahuenga Blvd. (just north of Sunset), Hollywood. Tel. 323.856.8611.

Regarding Aug. 5 letter to the editor “Brought to light”:

Being the other individual involved in the “Internet computer availability” situation which recently took place at the Malibu Public Library, I must take issue with Mr. Jackson’s description of it.

I booked an appointment by phone that morning. Arriving at the library a few minutes late, I found the reference librarian using the printer. She was surprised to see me there, not having seen my name in the appointment book. At that point, we discovered that I had inadvertently been written in at 11, rather than 1 o’clock.

Shortly afterwards, Mr. Jackson arrived. The librarian explained to him what had taken place and, understandably, he was displeased — as I too would have been. I expressed that I could be finished in 20 or 30 minutes, but the issue of his then only having 20 or 30 minutes use seemed unsatisfactory.

The head librarian then came over (whom I had spoken with on the phone). Upon becoming aware of what had taken place, she immediately apologized to Mr. Jackson. She then offered to extend his time until a quarter past the hour. This still was not to his liking. A short while later, he left.

A simple mistake was made, from which an awkward situation arose. Concessions needed to be made to accommodate the situation. Two of the three involved parties were prepared to do so.

There is no doubt in my mind that had the situation evolved in the inverse manner, Mr. Jackson would have been extended the same treatment as I — and I as he.

Ira Meyer

(we hear it’s high in protein)

By Arnold G. York/Publisher

I’m into the third day of my three-day “protein only” kickoff to my new diet. On day four, they’ll actually let me eat a tomato or even a fruit, which at this point sounds like ambrosia. But I did find something out that surprised me, and that is why some of us stuff our faces with carbohydrates all the time. Food is definitely self-medication, and fattening food with a little wine to wash it down definitely mellows the soul and softens one’s outlook on life. Without those carbos, we roam the forest looking for game to pounce on, and often it isn’t pretty.

Fortunately, in Malibu, a hungry animal doesn’t have to look very far.

Almost one month ago, the case of People vs. Remy O’Neill and the “Road Worriers” was booted out of court in Santa Monica. The judge said the Statute of Limitations had run, which in lay language means, city of Malibu, you had one year to file this case and you waited too long.

Any lawyer who has waged war (and that’s what it is) in the legal trenches knows that you win some and you lose some, and if you’re good, maybe you win a few more than your fair share. Litigation is always uncertain, risky and subject to the vagaries of the evidence, frequently your client, sometimes the judge and often the jury. Someone wins and someone loses, and it isn’t malpractice to lose any more than it’s great lawyering if you win. But there is one thing any litigator knows, and that is what to do if your case get booted out of court on a Statute of Limitations defense, as happened here. First, you try to explain to your client how this happened because what this means is that they’re never going to get their day in court. It’s over barely before it began. Then you walk out of the courtroom to the telephone and call your malpractice carrier.

I’ll tell you what the carriers don’t say. They don’t say, “Tough luck, York, these things happen.” What they do say is, “Get yourself over here ASAP and bring your file with you,” because they know that if your case gets kicked out at a demurrer hearing, without leave to amend (and in lawyer talk that means the judge didn’t give you a chance to fix it because he felt it was a major screwup and couldn’t be fixed), it generally means someone has screwed up in a major way. Not always, but it would certainly raise a high level of suspicion.

After the court hearing on the O’Neill case, I waited for an explanation, or a fax, or a press release or a phone call from the city prosecutors, the law firm of Dapeer, Rosenblit and Litvak, and in particular the lawyer Bill Litvak, who, I was told by the firm, was in charge of the case. The silence was deafening and even more so because there was nowhere else to go for information. Because it was a criminal prosecution, the city prosecutors were supposed to prosecute the case all by themselves without any input from outside.

“Outside” in this case meant the City Council was not to be part of the process.

“Outside” meant the city attorney was not to be part of the process.

Or did it?

Strangely, in the midst of all this, the council bought out City Attorney Christi Hogin on a 3-2 vote, and, coincidentally, the case against O’Neill and Road Worriers just went away.

Now, I must confess I have a skeptical, suspicious mind, and I could be absolutely wrong. That’s why I called our prosecutor Litvak to find out what happened and to ask a few questions, and to give him a chance to explain.

This is his answer:

In case you’re wondering, he gave us no answer. He never took my calls, nor called back, nor sent a fax, a letter, a smoke signal, or for that matter anything. And the question I ask is, why?

What are you afraid of, Bill?

Don’t you think Malibu is entitled to an explanation?

Do you think you belong to some priestly class answerable only to God?

How about O’Neill and the Road Worriers? You put them through a lot of expense and anxiety. For what? You owe them an explanation also.

Besides, we want to know.

Do you intend to appeal?

Are you accepting the decision and accepting responsibility, or do you think the judge was wrong?

Did you ask him if you could amend your pleadings to add additional counts or change the allegations?

Frankly, I can’t imagine Judge Richard Neidorf, a former prosecutor, denying the prosecution an opportunity to at least try to fix its pleadings.

All I want is an explanation, because without one I begin to imagine things. Who really wants to believe anyone can make a case go away by just changing lawyers?

In Malibu community life, there comes a time,

When Malibuites must challenge, and citizens must climb,

When voters must rise and take a stand,

Or leave their bare butt prints in Malibu sand.

Become concerned and your suffrage will show,

The vigor of a voter, you will know,

Politics weary, and grumbling over a cup,

Get off your butt, inform the ruling that you’re fed up.

Tom Fakehany