Leave it to Zuma Dogg, perpetual public commenter at every single L.A. City Council meeting ever (rivaled only in civic involvement by John Walsh of the insane neckties and Einstein hair), to add even more confusion to the Occupy L.A. clusterfuck.

“Awww yeah, Zuma Dogg!” he shouted into the faces of half-lidded campers through his megaphone this morning. “I'm here to occupy Occupy, y'all!

As you might imagine, things only got more amazing from there.

ZD gave us a call last night (on Venice crimewatcher Alex Thompson's phone, no less) to tell us he'd be setting up his amp next to the occupiers on City Hall steps today — drowning out their free speech with some very, erm, voluminous free speech of his own, 'til handcuffs doth he part.

He said of the protesters: “You're just a voice — well, I'm a voice, too. I'm a person showing up to talk about what I wanna talk about.”

Indeed. His live stream this morning has literally caused tears of laughter to stream down this disenchanted blogger's slackface. Internet L.A.-hole Andrew Breitbart, try as he might, could never illustrate the disjointed hilarity of Occupy L.A. with the same brilliance as this dude who has basically all the same goals as the movement, but is way too involved in city government to give a bunch of sleepover hippies any credit.

ZD scoffs at your "activism."; Credit: Courtesy of Patrick Range McDonald

ZD scoffs at your “activism.”; Credit: Courtesy of Patrick Range McDonald

(Sorry, Occupy — this is really not supposed to be a diss on the cause. We believe in you. But some of the chaos that goes down on the day-to-day simply must be chuckled about by all, for fear of naysayers claiming it's at your core.)

Basically, ZD is super pissed because Occupy L.A. hasn't gone through proper procedure to obtain a special permit (including fee) for their daily audio setup on City Hall steps. Turns out he's a stickler for permits. Also, park preservation: “Oh my god, the grass is totally dead,” he said earlier today, filming the ground. (The only thing thing he and Mayor Villaraigosa have ever agreed on.) “Wow, the grass finally reflects the city economy itself — dead as dirt.”

Other highlights of the live feed so far:

ZD tries to round protesters up to join him at the all-important public comment period at the L.A. City Council meeting. And they're like, eh. “I went in there once, and then I lost my pot,” says one camper. (Seriously.) When ZD finally gets a woman to go inside with him — “Tell 'em your free-speech message!” he cries — she proceeds to talk his ear off about how “this is a movement of the spirit” and “I try to make my spirit part of the greater spirit.” (Seriously.)

Public comment is over. So ZD screams for a good three minutes about how he showed up “only for these stupid ass bitches to give away puppies and have the pony show… Fuck City Hall! fuck Antonio Villaraigosa!” Etcetera. His claims that the FBI is after city politicians echo throughout council chambers, until he is gently shooed out by security, as per usual. Awesome.

An unsuspecting college reporter from Neon Tommy, USC's online paper, asks ZD what he's all about. “Do you think that this movement's salvagable?” she asks, prompting a 10-minute rant on lazy Burners who don't know crap about politics. Her deer-in-the-headlights stare glazes over. And at the end of it all, though, he praises her for her excellent choice of interviewee: “You passed the Willy Wonka golden-ticket test — you came up to Uncle MC Zuma Dogg!”

ZD pimps his blog's URL — www.ladailyblog.blogspot.com — to a loose gathering of semi-bored, semi-intrigued protesters. But they can't really hear him, because a nearby flute, or possibly a dying lamb, is completely drowning him out. Musical theater at its best.

Horrified to find Occupy's amp system to be a labyrinth of cords and solar panels and janky plastic bags and unregulated thingies tied to city posts, ZD curses these amateurs. The nerve! “And then they are blasting their sound through the whole park 'cause they think this is a Woodstock festival that they have a permit for,” he spits.

Wow. Now he's just getting in a bunch of shouting matches and causing general mayhem at the mini-city. We'll let you know if he gets arrested or anything. Just another day on the nasty front lawn of 200 North Spring Street! (TGIF.)

If you're as amused as we are, here's some more gold from yesterday:


LA Weekly