Construction work continues next to a Japan Airlines jet at the Tom Bradley International Terminal at Los Angeles International Airport on May 11 as the city seeks the 2024 Summer Olympic Games. Envisioning the 2024 Olympic Games in Los Angeles takes imagination. Olympic organizers describe their proposal as ready to go, yet a lot remains on paper or under construction as International Olympic Committee members visited Los Angeles. (Reed Saxon/Associated Press)
Columnist

To: International Olympic Committee

From: Couch Slouch

Re: LA 2024

So you fellas — and, yes, you are almost all fellas — were in Los Angeles last week, getting the ten-cent tour of the City of Angels. And this week you’re in Paris, getting the ten-franc tour of the City of Lights.

(I know, I know — the franc hasn’t been used since 1999, replaced by the euro. Yeah, well, with Europe in the throes of de-Europizing, how long do you think the euro is going to be around? I never got rid of my francs from my last bowling trip to the south of France, baby!)

Los Angeles is in competition with Paris; Here, co-president of the Paris bid Bernard Lapasset addresses the IOC Evaluation Commission on Sunday. (Franck Fife/AFP/Getty Images)

You’re trying to choose between Los Angeles and Paris for the 2024 Summer Olympics, though we’re told you might award the 2024 Games to one city and give the 2028 Games to the other.

I think I speak for most of my fellow Angelenos when I say:

We don’t need your stinkin’ Games.

Nobody here wants the Olympics. All we want are left-turn signals at major intersections.

To be sure, in a poll conducted by Loyola Marymount University earlier this year, 85 percent of L.A. respondents supposedly favored hosting the Olympics. Uh, who were they polling, people standing in line for Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride at Disneyland?

Hey, if the city of Boston was smart enough — and Boston is one of the dumbest cities in the republic, Harvard notwithstanding — to say no to the Olympics, those of us in Los Angeles certainly have enough brains and brawn to do the same.

Olympic gymnast Nastia Liukin poses for photos in front of a rendering of the Long Beach Sports Park, which are venues proposed for the 2024 Games. (Jae C. Hong/Associated Press)

Besides, why do you IOC hosers want to come here anyway?

Have you looked at Los Angeles lately?

The town is essentially a series of strip malls with nail salons. L.A. schools are awful and L.A. roads are even more awful; I’ve seen potholes here that double as studio apartments.

We have earthquakes, heat waves, mudslides. Heck, when they light the flame at the opening ceremony, that might turn into a wildfire.

Every 25 years or so, we have a riot; we’re due.

Everyone in L.A. is either filming a reality show or recycling.

We have parking signs indecipherable to anyone who speaks English as a first language.

There are 7-Elevens here with valet parking.

The other day, I saw a parking enforcement officer ticketing herself.

We put the “light” back in light rail system.

Speaking of which, I haven’t even brought up traffic yet. Think about it: The 100-meter final could be delayed because six of the competitors are stuck on the 405.

And how big of an international incident would it be if a Chinese long jumper en route to the Coliseum is rear-ended by a Beverly Hills divorcée en route to her plastic surgeon?

Not to mention, considering the president’s proposed travel ban, by 2024 the only foreign athletes eligible to compete in the U.S. will be from Canada and the Cayman Islands, plus members of the Trump International Golf Club in Dubai.

Alas, the bidding process is more like a bribery primer. The last time the Olympics were in the U.S. — the 2002 Winter Games, in Salt Lake City — IOC members took in so much illicit money, half of you bought summer homes in Provo.

And I know you IOC bigwigs were wined and dined when you were here last week — you met Kobe Bryant and you went to a Dodgers game and the delegation was given a fancy surfboard.

You even got to go to a private supper at LA 2024 chairman Casey Wasserman’s mansion. Beautiful place, I’m told: 10 bedrooms, 10 bathrooms, home theater, swimming pool, butler’s quarters. Yet I guarantee you there wasn’t a single box of Cheez-Its in the joint, and Cheez-Its pretty much define America.

So, please, don’t fall for our starry, smoggy skies and our bottomless cache of boodle and Botox.

But if all signs point to Hollywood — and who exactly would choose L.A. over Paris? — at least grant us the Games in 2028 rather than 2024. That’ll give me an extra four years to get out of Dodge.

Ask The Slouch

Q: Are you happy that you predicted marriage would ruin Rory McIlroy’s golf game and then he stumbled around The Players Championship, ailing? You’re such a killjoy. (John O’Brien; Carmel, Ind.)

A: Killjoy, shmilljoy — I call ’em like I see ’em. Plus, your boy Rory is “ailing” because he emerged from his honeymoon with a bad back; who couldn’t see that coming?

Q: Regarding the “notable fields of American life in which blacks are underrepresented,” what is the percentage of black sportswriters? (Jake Laete; Spokane, Wash.)

A: If I ever find one, I’ll ask.

Q: Are the Bengals still in the process of deciding whether Vontaze Burfict or Adam “Pacman” Jones would be the best mentor for Joe Mixon? (Dan Cantwell; Albany, N.Y.)

A: They also have a call in to Tank Johnson.

Q: MLB recently announced a program of league-branded diapers to be known as the “Born a Fan” collection. For us older folks, will these be available in “Still a Fan” larger sizes? (Philip R. Hochberg; Washington, D.C.)

A: Pay the man, Shirley.

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