John Boston | Breastfeeding & My Dinner with City Hall
By John Boston
Saturday, August 25th, 2018

I had the strangest supper the other night. Five of my friends and I decided to take a business dinner over to Malibu at this beautiful new restaurant north of town on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific. Normally, this wouldn’t be much of a problem, but my friends were Laurene Weste, Marsha McLean, Bob Kellar, Bill “Carmen” Miranda and Cameron Smyth, who is 11.

For those of you outside SClarita Gossip Central, these are, until this column hits the streets, our current City Council members.

I really shouldn’t be sharing this. Some might think it’s not right for Mr. SCV and the City Council of SClarita to be dining together on a regular basis, carving up the valley and deciding such mundane things as who gets defense contracts or who needs to “quietly disappear.” I also think we might be in violation of some federal law about more than two councilcreatures meeting outside a regular sanctioned meeting.

I think it’s called The Mann Act.

No. Wait. The Mann Act (1910) involves dragging married women across state lines for immoral purposes. Like, baby talk.

Anyway. As is our custom, we took the council stretch limo over to Malibu and had a jolly good time. Marsha, who has that theater background, entertained us on the drive by doing a wide variety of imitations, including smearing lipstick on her face while mimicking Nancy Pelosi saying: “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.”

(To relieve any angst or sense of being ignored from our millennial demographic, Nancy and Cecille B. DeMille were on “Dancing With the Stars.” They came in second.)

I know it probably wasn’t right for us to use taxpayer dollars and the council limo to drive to Malibu when we have so many wonderful eateries here in SClarita. Taco Bell, Del Taco and the other Taco Bell come to mind. But, you simply must try Enchantress in Malibu! Five stars with a bullet. Very tough to get a reservation. Very expensive. They are on the cutting edge of the latest gourmand eating trend — Tactile Dining. It’s where staff presents a taste, touch, feel, smell and hear experience.

Kellar, of course, had the one ounce of Henry Mayo lime green Jell-O and a saltine. Served by two Rams cheerleaders.

Marsha had the Screaming Sushi. It’s just regular spicy tuna, but when you dip it in the soy sauce and wasabi, a nearby waitress screams: “MY EYES!! MY EYES!! AHHHHHH!!”

Then, she makes hurt whale noises and pretend-swims around your table.

You can get the girl out of Santa Clarita, but you can’t get the Santa Clarita out of the girl. Laurene ordered Taco Bell. Four enchiritos. Six tacos. Three Beefy Fritos Burritos y a small water, no ice.

Bill “Carmen” Miranda, of course, ordered the fruit salad shaped like a hat and we ordered mac and cheese for Cameron with some chicken nuggets, which annoyed us because Cameron never finishes his chicken nuggets and then mopes afterward because no one will give him a sip of beer. Because this is California and Cameron is under age, he qualified for the Deluxe Children’s Special ($79.95) and was breastfed afterward by an actress/waitress named Moona.

For Moona’s sake, I hope they never host large-scale children’s parties at Enchantress. Oh. Before I forget. The Enchantress reservation line is (209) 835-3030. Ask for Will Flute and he’ll get you a window seat.

I had the beef stew, biscuits and gravy, which annoys me. Our own beloved Way Station stopped serving beef stew, biscuits and gravy in 1979. Why, for the Love Of All That’s Holy, I’ll never know. Now I have to drive all the way to Malibu for this tasty item. Still. We had a lovely evening. We had the best table on the outside deck, which seats up to 104 people. The sun was setting. A pleasant sea breeze caressed our cheeks. Nearby, an occasional porpoise dove through the waves. Dinner was perfect. Dessert? Wretched. Inexcusable. Indigestible. Unswallowable.

Something I’ve been telling Democrats for years: It’s gauche to spit large food balls while eating out. But, some sort of public protest was needed. I stood, marched over to the railing and hurled my dessert onto the surf crashing on the rocks below.

I was so surprised.

Laurene, Bob, Carmen, Marsha and Cammy all stood. Following my lead, they threw their desserts into the ocean.

Then, strangest thing.

Everyone in the restaurant must have ordered the same. Exact. Dessert.

Angrily, to the restaurant’s edge and over the yawning cliff below, they tossed their desserts.

It was lemming meringue.

Earth’s most prolific humorist, Boston has penned more than 11,000 blogs, columns, essays, books, features and stories. He’s been named both best serious and best humorous columnist in America, is the recipient of The Will Rogers Lifetime Achievement Award and is on the fence about The Mann Act.

About the author

John Boston

John Boston

John Boston | Breastfeeding & My Dinner with City Hall

I had the strangest supper the other night. Five of my friends and I decided to take a business dinner over to Malibu at this beautiful new restaurant north of town on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific. Normally, this wouldn’t be much of a problem, but my friends were Laurene Weste, Marsha McLean, Bob Kellar, Bill “Carmen” Miranda and Cameron Smyth, who is 11.

For those of you outside SClarita Gossip Central, these are, until this column hits the streets, our current City Council members.

I really shouldn’t be sharing this. Some might think it’s not right for Mr. SCV and the City Council of SClarita to be dining together on a regular basis, carving up the valley and deciding such mundane things as who gets defense contracts or who needs to “quietly disappear.” I also think we might be in violation of some federal law about more than two councilcreatures meeting outside a regular sanctioned meeting.

I think it’s called The Mann Act.

No. Wait. The Mann Act (1910) involves dragging married women across state lines for immoral purposes. Like, baby talk.

Anyway. As is our custom, we took the council stretch limo over to Malibu and had a jolly good time. Marsha, who has that theater background, entertained us on the drive by doing a wide variety of imitations, including smearing lipstick on her face while mimicking Nancy Pelosi saying: “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille.”

(To relieve any angst or sense of being ignored from our millennial demographic, Nancy and Cecille B. DeMille were on “Dancing With the Stars.” They came in second.)

I know it probably wasn’t right for us to use taxpayer dollars and the council limo to drive to Malibu when we have so many wonderful eateries here in SClarita. Taco Bell, Del Taco and the other Taco Bell come to mind. But, you simply must try Enchantress in Malibu! Five stars with a bullet. Very tough to get a reservation. Very expensive. They are on the cutting edge of the latest gourmand eating trend — Tactile Dining. It’s where staff presents a taste, touch, feel, smell and hear experience.

Kellar, of course, had the one ounce of Henry Mayo lime green Jell-O and a saltine. Served by two Rams cheerleaders.

Marsha had the Screaming Sushi. It’s just regular spicy tuna, but when you dip it in the soy sauce and wasabi, a nearby waitress screams: “MY EYES!! MY EYES!! AHHHHHH!!”

Then, she makes hurt whale noises and pretend-swims around your table.

You can get the girl out of Santa Clarita, but you can’t get the Santa Clarita out of the girl. Laurene ordered Taco Bell. Four enchiritos. Six tacos. Three Beefy Fritos Burritos y a small water, no ice.

Bill “Carmen” Miranda, of course, ordered the fruit salad shaped like a hat and we ordered mac and cheese for Cameron with some chicken nuggets, which annoyed us because Cameron never finishes his chicken nuggets and then mopes afterward because no one will give him a sip of beer. Because this is California and Cameron is under age, he qualified for the Deluxe Children’s Special ($79.95) and was breastfed afterward by an actress/waitress named Moona.

For Moona’s sake, I hope they never host large-scale children’s parties at Enchantress. Oh. Before I forget. The Enchantress reservation line is (209) 835-3030. Ask for Will Flute and he’ll get you a window seat.

I had the beef stew, biscuits and gravy, which annoys me. Our own beloved Way Station stopped serving beef stew, biscuits and gravy in 1979. Why, for the Love Of All That’s Holy, I’ll never know. Now I have to drive all the way to Malibu for this tasty item. Still. We had a lovely evening. We had the best table on the outside deck, which seats up to 104 people. The sun was setting. A pleasant sea breeze caressed our cheeks. Nearby, an occasional porpoise dove through the waves. Dinner was perfect. Dessert? Wretched. Inexcusable. Indigestible. Unswallowable.

Something I’ve been telling Democrats for years: It’s gauche to spit large food balls while eating out. But, some sort of public protest was needed. I stood, marched over to the railing and hurled my dessert onto the surf crashing on the rocks below.

I was so surprised.

Laurene, Bob, Carmen, Marsha and Cammy all stood. Following my lead, they threw their desserts into the ocean.

Then, strangest thing.

Everyone in the restaurant must have ordered the same. Exact. Dessert.

Angrily, to the restaurant’s edge and over the yawning cliff below, they tossed their desserts.

It was lemming meringue.

Earth’s most prolific humorist, Boston has penned more than 11,000 blogs, columns, essays, books, features and stories. He’s been named both best serious and best humorous columnist in America, is the recipient of The Will Rogers Lifetime Achievement Award and is on the fence about The Mann Act.