Two weeks ago, I used this column to reach out to San Diego City Council President Scott Peters and City Attorney Mike Aguirre. With some hubris and quite a lot of sarcasm, I asked them both if they could possibly crank down the rancor a bit and try to get along. To further that goal, I encouraged them to meet me at Nunu's, in Hillcrest, for happy hour on Tuesday, July 18. To my utter astonishment, they showed up. Not at the same time, mind you. Peters was on time-smack on 5 p.m. Aguirre, fresh off a knee surgery, didn't amble in until after 6:30.
So I didn't get the two of them together, exactly, but I thoroughly enjoyed myself nonetheless. I hope they did, too. That's all I can say about my meeting with two of the most powerful men in town because I assured them I would not divulge the details of our conversation. (I only learned this recently-journalists have something called "ethics." I hope it's curable.)
From this point forward, nothing I write is attributable to Peters or Aguirre. Let's just say that I have these things on good authority.
* Jimmy Hoffa is buried under the Spreckels Organ Pavillion in Balboa Park. I hope I'm not called to testify about how I learned this fact because if I am, I will have to protect my source and I sure don't want to go to prison. I'm no Judith Miller, but I have delicate features. All the same-if the city Department of Park and Recreation can spare the resources, I have it on good authority that a worker with a jackhammer could easily unearth the late Teamster boss' remains just a few yards from center stage.
* Idi Amin, the former president of Uganda, who was rumored to have died in Saudi Arabia in 2003, is, in fact, alive and well and working for the San Diego Metropolitan Transit System. Again, I can't reveal my source, but I have it on good authority that the man responsible for the torture and murder of hundreds of thousands of men, women and children in the 1970s is driving the No. 7 bus from La Mesa to Downtown, and he won't give me a transfer.
* A secret society known as the Priory of Diphthongs meets weekly at Qualcomm Stadium to manage an ongoing cover-up of paranormal events in San Diego. The society is chaired by Father Joe Carroll and its membership includes such influential San Diegans as Roger Hedgecock, Michael Turko, Tony Gwynn, Maureen O'Connor, Steve Francis and Marion Ross, better known to the world as Mrs. Cunningham from Happy Days, who, at 79, is the oldest San Diego State alumnus with whom I would still happily make out in a booth at Bully's East. The Priory's charter dates back to 1375, a time at which no literate human beings lived in Southern California. I have it on good authority that its earliest members were extraterrestrials.
Although my sources are aware of the existence of the Priory of Diphthongs, the details of its mysterious activities are cloaked in secrecy, unknown to anyone outside of its inner sanctum. It is widely speculated that the Priory owns a cadre of cyborgs that they deploy each morning to eradicate the crop circles that appear overnight at Petco Park. The Priory is also thought to be protecting a secret about the function of at least one East County casino. I have it on good authority that a suite at Barona houses a portal to a worm hole that leads to a planet on the other side of our galaxy where Adam Sandler, Rob Schneider and Jimmy Fallon meet and conspire to release boring documentaries at the Hillcrest Cinemas.
* I also have it on good authority that the $20.3 million the city paid to Kroll Inc., reputedly for a report that has not seen the light of day after 18 months of work, was actually a rent check. In 1979, then-Mayor Pete Wilson secretly sold San Diego to Ted Turner and signed an agreement that binds us to a lease in perpetuity. Until recently, checks were deposited automatically to an offshore account administered by bon vivant, man about town and lawmaker extraordinaire Randy "Duke" Cunningham. The Duke's sudden departure from public life to pursue a little "me" time left a void. Kroll stepped in and now acts as the city's landlord. Our rent was past due, but we're all paid up now. Everything is fine. I have that on good authority.
I have all of the foregoing on good authority and I would probably have even more to share with you, but I erred two weeks ago by not being more overt with my invitation to Mayor Jerry Sanders. I thought at the time that if Peters and Aguirre were going to be dropping by Nunu's, anyway, Jerry might just want to pop in for a bacon-cheeseburger and tater tots. I wasn't very explicit. All I said was "Tell the mayor to stop by." Evidently, neither Peters nor Aguirre bothered to call His Honor, and I learned a valuable lesson: If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.
So, Jerry, I'm asking you, right here in front of everybody. Will you come to Nunu's after work next Tuesday, Aug. 1? I'm buying. If you're watching your figure, you can have a salad, but I strongly recommend the burger and tots. Parking sucks. I'm sorry about that. However, the air conditioning is fantastic and nobody but me will bother you. I promise. Ask Scott and Mike.
Don't worry about the ethical implications of accepting a free snack and cold one from a constituent. I didn't vote for you, so I'm not really a constituent. Besides, Nunu's garnishes my wages for back tabs. I'm paying for it one way or another. Just come on in between 5 and 6 p.m. I'll get us a booth. See you then.
Tony Phillips blogs at www.fifthavenuegazette.com. Write to fifthavenuegazette[at]yahoo[dot]com and editor[at]SDcitybeat[dot]com.