Comments
ERIC PREVEN'S NOTEBOOK - By the time the June 10, 2025, meeting of the LA County Board of Supervisors wrapped up, the dais had honored a rabbi, saluted a veteran, elevated a shelter dog named Tangerine, and issued a full-throated defense of honorary scrolls as instruments of healing. Somewhere between the land acknowledgment and a flurry of early childhood development statistics, the public stepped up.
Public commenters arrived clear-eyed and ready. They spoke on juvenile justice abuses, bloated no-bid contracts, and the creeping fear surrounding immigration enforcement. No hashtags. No speeches about being “humbled” to serve. Just real civic concern, from people who don’t get escorted to the mic by the sergeant-at-arms.
The gladiator fights—yes, that’s what they’re actually called—in juvenile halls became the flashpoint. Several speakers, including Helen Ikenberg and Delores Canales, demanded more than thoughts and prayers. Smart Speaker, ever the busy-budget with a moral compass, flagged $120 million in sole-source and amended contracts, then shifted to juvenile probation as the Board clutched their binders.
All hands on deck...
To be fair, they were listening—eventually. Hahn gave a measured presentation about the long-delayed CCTV protocols. Horvath delivered a firm moral call. Soliscredited Attorney General Rob Bonta for exposing what the County failed to catch. Mitchell offered the standout line of the day: “A policy is only as good as it is operationalized.” Barger sighed from the corner.
But the public wasn’t looking for a branding pivot. We were asking how things got this bad under five supervisors who say ‘accountability’ like it’s a magic word that makes problems disappear.
Then came Item A7, Supervisor Solis’s motion to support immigrant communities during a wave of fear and federal ambiguity. That’s when Smart Speaker, usually known for jabbing the Board, did a little dance.
Smart Speaker: Thank you, supervisors, it's Eric Preven, and thank you, Supervisor Solis in particular, for A7. You’ve made this item a rare refuge for truth. But if we’re going to calm people, we do need the facts.
The LA’s Skyteam has been covering mayhem—people dragged off, Waymos burned—but who was taken? Were there charges? Were lawyers allowed in?
This is a city of immigrants, and we want to protect our people. But let’s not glorify protests that showcase people waving flags while stomping on property.
You can’t win a street fight against the military, but you can win a legal fight against an overreach. That’s why this fight belongs in court, not as clickbait chaos.
And with everything we’ve seen out of Probation—kids forced into gladiator bouts while no one was watching—maybe think twice before treating protests like a recruitment drive.
Because if anyone’s grooming young people for combat, it’s not the ones chanting in the streets—it’s the ones overseeing ‘gladiator fights’ behind County walls.
Solis muttered audibly: “Thank you, Eric."
Constitution Optional
Charter reform meets Olympic pageantry while councilmembers scramble to suspend the Brown Act — for the optics.
Only $400 million to retrofit the “Palace in the Sky” into a faux Air Force One. A perfect metaphor — we’re spending the same on the Olympics to pretend we care about people.
International fans, take note: LA, displacement capital of the West Coast, is begging you to focus on PlayLA’s glossy ads, not the real-time erasure of communities. A growing chorus is urging: boycott California’s Olympic Games. Why bankroll developer wealth with taxpayer gold?
Janice Hahn, who once Bible-studied with Kristi “Dogshootin’” Noem, reportedly begged her to stop tearing families apart. The political equivalent of mailing a fruit basket to a forest fire.
Meanwhile, Lindsey P. Horvath fled to CNN to decry federal chaos — omitting that LA suspended its own transparency laws for a photo op. We’re Constitution Optional now — but the lighting’s great.
Now, the latest PR decoy: Charter Reform. Born not from civic courage but from a 2022 leaked audio tape of old-school racism and gerrymandering, this commission is made up of eight handpicked insiders. The other five slots? Open until Friday at 11:59 p.m.
They can propose expanding the council, changing budget rules, or rewriting the censure process — in short, fiddling with the parts of the Charter we already ignore.
By 2026, they’ll call it “the people’s voice.”
If you believe that, I’ve got an Air Force One retrofit to sell you.
All Eyes on Shari
A studio heiress faces a Trump lawsuit and a moral crossroads. Will she take the stand — or the settlement?
This isn’t a pitch to WME. This is a pitch to the studio itself — Paramount Pictures — to stop pretending and start starring in the drama they’re already living.
Corporate power. A $20 billion merger. A Trump lawsuit. In the center: Shari Redstone.
A $25 million settlement to make a meritless defamation suit vanish? Sure, it's chump change. But it’s also a litmus test: will media companies keep folding to bullies?
Paramount once meant journalism. (Go with it! Sixty Minutes means Journalism!) Now they’re told to settle — quietly — for the deal’s sake. Shari, cancer-stricken but still in charge, is being told to fold. But the real power move? Say no. Don’t settle. Don’t cave. Defend the newsroom.
Yes, her lawyers will object. “Mr. Preven, the woman has cancer.” And I wish her well. But illness isn’t an excuse to abdicate responsibility. Leadership means doing the hard thing anyway.
Her father, Sumner, wasn’t exactly a beacon. But that’s what makes this different. Shari has the chance to be better.
The scene writes itself: boardroom. Pens clicking. Lawyers sweating. Shari breathes in and says, “Let it fall apart. I’m not settling.”
That’s a movie. That’s the pitch.
Paramount: you know how to tell stories. Here’s your chance to live one.
Let the Studios Pay Their Own Way
Hollywood used to be a trade town. Now it's a tax shelter.
I’m a WGA writer. I’ve rewritten bad scenes in good sheds and good scenes in bad rooms. Paid taxes. Raised kids. Did the work. And like many, I swallowed the lie that studios need public money to stay put.
Enough.
It’s time California stopped coddling billion-dollar studios with taxpayer-funded treats. The Film & TV Tax Credit program is corporate welfare. NBCUniversal, Apple, Amazon — all elbowing for millions while slashing jobs and benefits.
A woman I know works “shipping” on a studio film. $2,000 a week — no benefits, no promise of another gig. That’s not a career pipeline. That’s soft blackmail.
Studios could have reinvested in California. They didn’t. They took the breaks and ghosted the workforce.
Some indie productions benefit. I’m not calling for zero support. I’m calling for accountability.
Tie public dollars to public standards: California jobs, healthcare, and apprenticeships. No more blank checks.
If they don’t like it? Let them walk.
Let California lead. Let the studios pay their own way.
Nixingg Corporate Tax Breaks Is Zeitgeisty.
Silver Linings (Press Release)
The Cultural Olympiad is here, powered by fantasy and overnight security budgets.
Los Angeles is always delighted to be on fire… if someone’s watching. Enter the Cultural Olympiad: a civic fever dream that lets city leaders spin ribbon-cutting into redemption. Councilmembers beam about “legacy” while the rest of us squint at heat domes, collapsing infrastructure, and $400 million budget holes.
The Olympics are a unifying moment. Just ignore the evictions, freeway closures, and city departments rearranging deck chairs while the Titanic trains for a 10 K.
There are murals. There’s PlayLA. But that’s not housing. That’s not healthcare. That’s branding.
The press release writes itself: Los Angeles unites around culture and global friendship. Cue confetti. Cut to a councilmember crying in front of a new art piece no one asked for, but now must protect with overnight security.
The city’s official mood is “triumphant with a side of delusion.” But more and more Angelenos are asking: “Who is this really for?”
And that’s something to celebrate.
Bring in the Marines (Passport Edition)
Docents. Guns. Democracy. Welcome to City Hall.
The City Clerk’s Office is now a passport center, just across from Mayor Karen Bass’s suite. Convenient. Efficient. Also, crawling with Marines.
That’s right. Paul Krekorian invited a military presence under the guise of “federal compliance.” Call it Operation Photo ID.
But why stop at security?
In a surprise twist, the Marines are now applying to be docents. If selected, they'll guide visitors through City Hall, narrating each layer of dysfunction like it’s a battlefield museum.
“Here’s where the FBI raided. That’s the elevator Nury Martinez used before calling Bonin a—. Behind this frosted glass: the Ethics Commission — closed for lunch. Indefinitely.”
Kids love pretending to stand in Mitch Englander’s smoking section and accept a bribe.
Then, the finale: a trip to Council Chambers to watch the Randomizer™ — the city’s patented algorithm that ensures speaker order is “fair.” Designed by the same minds behind broken procurement portals, the Randomizer™ cloaks censorship in procedural flair.
…and thanks to the Randomizer™, the most outspoken Angelenos will be heard... eventually. Probably. Never.
Former LA City Council President, Alex Padilla (Senator), being forcibly removed from a mean-spirited press conference.
The Good News (Not Really)
When 2,800 armed personnel need a place to stay, it’s amazing how fast the Transient Occupancy Tax wheel starts spinning — and how suddenly, the City Charter needs “reform.”
Charter reform is back! Same faces, different slogans. The loopholes practically write themselves.
The city’s charter is damaged, but don’t worry — the people who broke it are fixing it.
That’s the good news. At least according to the Charter Reform Commission, formed in the wake of the 2022 Nury Martinez scandal. A scandal so toxic, even Mark Ridley-Thomas blushed.
The Commission has eight members: some insiders, some resume padders, one deputy DA — always handy when “ethics” gets too philosophical.
Mayor Bass says they’ll consider everything: council size, budgeting, and censure procedures. But will they consider... consequences? Not likely. This isn’t reform. It’s reputation rehab.
Sure, the language is hopeful. The optics: multiracial. The meetings? Sometimes with working audio.
And if you’re wondering which lucky developers are getting TOT reductions in exchange for military hospitality suites and federal-friendly optics, don’t ask. Only the mayor can see that list. It’s sealed tighter than a Pentagon bunker.
If you believe this will bring real change, you probably also believe the Ethics Commission is still independent.
In LA, reform comes wrapped in a bow and delivered by the same folks who wrote the last loophole.
Because here, pretending to change is a tradition all its own.
(Eric Preven is a Studio City-based TV writer-producer, award-winning journalist, and longtime community activist who won two landmark open government cases in California.)
