Bundled up against the chill, Augustus Jones, left, Joi Baker, Kristen… (Steve Helber / Associated…)
They had a nice little Inauguration Day on Monday in Washington. A bit nippy -- mid-20s to mid-40s -- but no Arctic blast of cold air or snow.
That really nasty stuff is expected Tuesday.
And that’s why it’s time to move this whole inauguration deal someplace else; someplace that has great winter weather.
FULL COVERAGE: 57th presidential inauguration
Every four years it’s the same in D.C.: They roll the weather dice. Some years, like this one, they win. And sometimes -- as in JFK’s bitterly cold and snowy inaugural in 1961, and Ronald Reagan’s historically cold day in 1985 -- they lose. (Heck, there’s even the oft-told tale of the snowstorm and cold on William Henry Harrison’s inaugural on March 4, 1841. Supposedly, he refused to move the ceremony indoors, and then he delivered a nearly two-hour speech. Shortly afterward he caught cold, then pneumonia. He died on April 4, 1841.)
Enough of this nonsense. A warm, sunny -- and vastly experienced at putting on a show -- Los Angeles will be waiting with open arms to inaugurate our next president in 2017.
And we’ll do it right. Think the Oscars and Super Bowl Sunday rolled into one.
Just so you know, yes, it’s constitutional. Our founding document says nothing about where the inauguration takes place, only the date and time and the exact wording of the presidential oath.
So we’re going to make some changes.
Take the swearing-in ceremony -- not gonna be the first order of business. Only amateurs would lead with the best stuff.
No, we’ll start with the parade. And who better for that than Pasadena, the king of parades? Maybe we’ll just hold over a few Rose Parade floats, or repurpose them. I’ll bet the Rose queen and her court would be happy to reprise their star turn.
We can ask Tina Fey and Amy Poehler to emcee the whole shebang. There’ll be entertainment; a nice jet flyover, of course; and a blimp or two high overhead, capturing the scene: There’s Malibu and some tasty waves; is that Tom Hanks on the beach?; there’s the Hollywood sign; is that Grauman’s?; there’s Staples Center; anyone see Kobe?
Finally, just like the Super Bowl, about 3:30 Pacific time we’ll get to the big moment: The swearing in and the president’s speech.
And, oh yea, about that stuffy oath-of-office thing. The chief justice -- are you kidding me? Way too old school. We’ll go with George Clooney, or Ben Affleck or maybe even Clint Eastwood, depending on who wins the election.
(Speaking of the election, wouldn’t it be fun to put a little Hollywood into election night? Why can’t we not announce any votes until all the polls have closed, and then have a big auditorium filled with both presidential candidates and their supporters, and, I don’t know, Eva Longoria and Tom Selleck come out on stage, and they say: “For president, the nominees are… ” Then, “The envelope, please. And the winner is …” and they tell us who’s the next president. And then he or she comes up and gives a silly little breathless speech, trying to remember to thank everyone? Wouldn’t that be a lot more exciting and fun? Just sayin' ….)
Anyway, back to the inauguration. After the swearing in and speech, it’ll be party time, and no one does party time better than L.A. (OK, you’re right, maybe Vegas does; but call me old fashioned, I just don’t see Vegas hosting an inaugural.) Anderson Cooper and the rest can knock themselves out covering the Vanity Fair party, and Harvey Weinstein’s party, and, well, you get the idea.
And the best part of all? It’ll be warm and sunny. And at the end of the day, the San Gabriels and the Santa Monicas will take on that beautiful “purple mountains majesty” look as the sun dips into the Pacific.
The perfect ending. What else would you expect?
It’s L.A., after all.
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