I live four blocks below the "King of the Hill." Every time I look north, this house hits me in the face. I work in Santa Monica. Every time I look north, this house hits me in the face. I cannot get away from it. And, when I don't look at it, I know it is there--looming down at me like some great dinosaur ready to devour its kill. The King of the Hill is a blight in our neighborhood--a pimple on a flawless complexion.
The only way Mr. (Dennis) Tito can redeem himself is to plant enough trees to obscure his ugly, overindulgent monument to himself from the rest of the populace.
A pretty view is not his exclusively. It belongs to everyone.