COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES

Peter Buffa

Did you feel it? It wasn’t the big one, but it was close. The

9/9/99 scare, that is. Apparently, the media and the army of consultants

who have whipped the Y2K “problem” into a frenzy are worried that people

aren’t worried enough. Supposedly, Thursday’s date -- 9/9/99 -- could

have caused the earth to wobble on its axis, the sun to go dark, bringing

on a nuclear winter, at which point things would get ugly. Why? Because

someone remembered that older computer programs used 9999 as a command to

stop processing. As a result, computers might have become dazed and

disoriented at the stroke of 9/9/99, drooling data on the floor and

hallucinating that they were actually VCRs. On Wednesday night, every

late news broadcast included a story on the spooky 9/9/99 bug. “Just what

will happen when the clock strikes midnight?,” they asked. So what did

happen? Exactly the same thing that will happen at the stroke of 1/1/00.

Zero. Zip. Bupkus. Niente.

Two casual observations from a layperson. One, computers are not very

left brain oriented. They are humorless and generally uncomfortable with

concepts like “more or less” or “pretty much.” To a computer, 9/9/99 is

not 9999. It’s 9/9/99. You might confuse the two, but your PC won’t.

Second, the programs that the, um, experts are talking about are old --

as in, 10 years or more. The year 1989 to a computer is like the dawn of

time to you. Try to find someone who is using a program that’s 10 or 15

years old. If you do, ask them if you can speak to their key punch

operator. The city of L.A. must have a whole bunch of computer

consultants, because all emergency services were put on red alert

Wednesday night, with hundreds of additional police and fire personnel

standing by to handle the impending cataclysm. Speaking of cities that do

loopy things, let’s not forget San Diego.

For reasons unexplained, perhaps unexplainable, San Diego is the

latest city to decide that what it really needs is an official song.

“City in search of a song” is one of those stories that turns up every

few months like clockwork. It’s as reliable as the dog who finds his way

back home to Pomona after disappearing on the family vacation to

Yellowstone. Or the 40 pound chunk of ice that falls from a 757 and lands

right in the Beavertons’ family room. “We just set down to watch ‘Wheel

of Fortune’ and BAM! Darndest thing I ever seen. Edith thought it was one

of them UFOs.” Don’t get me wrong. Music is one of those things without

which life would be impossible and songs are welcome in any venue, at any

time. But this business of finding an official city song never works.

Answer me this. What is the official song of Newport Beach? No? How

about Costa Mesa? Anyone? All right, what is California’s official song?

“California, Here I Come?” Nope. All right, forget the songs. How about

slogans? Anyone? Newport Beach? There isn’t one. Costa Mesa? “Hub of the

Harbor.” Don’t ask. See what I mean? Other than the local historian who

makes a note that the city’s official song is now “Barstow --- A Little

Bit of Heaven on Earth,” who even knows this stuff? So why do cities

keep trying?

It usually starts when some mayor or council member or city manager

has an inspiration. OK, maybe not a city manager. Anyway, they’re sitting

in some restaurant or driving along when they hear “New York, New York”

or “I Left My Heart in San Francisco” or “Chicago, My Kind of Town” or

whatever. Boom. “Those cities have songs. Why don’t we have a song? We

need a song.” Horse pucky. Those aren’t city songs. They’re songs about

cities. Big difference. Those songs were written and performed by very

big names to make very big money, which they did. They were not the

result of a contest for everyone who owns or can borrow a guitar and a

tape recorder.

Here are some lyrics from two entries in the San Diego competition.

Entry One: “I’d like to tell you ‘bout my hometown, Another city by the

bay. No cable cars or Hollywood stars, Just beauty and sunshine every

day.” Hmm. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think the new city song should

open with a raging inferiority complex. Couldn’t we save the part about

everything we don’t have for the second verse? Entry Two: “San Diego, it

will never let you down, it’s a lively kind of town.” OK, not bad. It’s

hip, it’s happening. You can almost hear Tony Bennett. Unfortunately,

here’s the next line: “San Diego, so many opportunities, be what you want

to be in San Diego.” Very original. You might want to clear the last line

with the U.S. Army. There is also a controversy brewing because a song

called “San Diego” was written for an original play that was performed as

part of the city’s bicentennial celebration in 1969. The play was called

“My Cousin Josefa,” and some people have long considered the song from it

to be the city’s official song. Personally, I’d disqualify it based on

the title of the play alone. But, history will assuredly repeat itself. A

song will be chosen. A proclamation will be read. The song will be

performed at a city council meeting -- never to be heard again.

So there it is. If you think we need an official song or two on the

Newport-Mesa, send me your ideas. A blue-ribbon panel, namely me, will

judge each entry on its merits, especially those that include an unmarked

envelope with cash enclosed. Try to avoid the “moon, June, spoon” stuff

and nothing sappy. Find your muse. Live your dream. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Fridays.

E-mail him at [email protected].