Yearly Archives: 2017

the report was what i thought it would be like

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it said im a nightmare to live with.

it showed a long list of girlfriends ive had or quasi gfs or loves or lusts or flings or things or or or

and it said that with each and every one of them i was the prime example of bait n switch

pretty on the outside, ugly closeup.

im a slob, i fart, i wear the same things over and over and over. i pass out unexpectedly, even though no drugs or alcohol are around.

i cant cook, clean, im not well read, i grammar bad and for some reason im as demanding as can be

but worse, i pretend that the poor women learn the ancient skill of mindreading.

even though i am not one to live up to many promises, i insist that they keep theirs.

even though i constantly change my mind about things, i steam when they call audibles.

theres baseball cards in here, photos of others, letters from others, gifts from others

how is anyone supposed to feel special in this bachelors pad of boobie traps?

white socks everywhere and smells smells smells

closets packed with nick nacks, freezer stuffed with cheese.

the xbi insists that no agent should have a significant other but mama mia how is this the only rule i dont break?

and then theres the cubs.

and the weird hours.

and the secret trips to the hidden lair.

it just aint fair.

the older i get the meaner i get

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if i was on top of my game i would be bringing LAist back from the dead right now. i would be using the momentum of everyone being sad that it was gone, and i would make something new but the same.

i would do what i did back on 6/6/06 and i would find people who were in to writing for free and in exchange i would give them a platform where they would get read and have access to rock show and movies and whatever they couldn’t get from their own blogs,

and together we would build a community and from that love even greater things would happen like we would all get fancy jobs and become rich and famous, all while telling the tale of LA.

the Village Voice went under, and it looks like the LA Weekly is gonna be a weed weekly, so with LAist kaput and the LA Times on the ropes, there appears to be a giant hole in local LA news and entertainment and it’s only widening.

and if i wasn’t so angry and bitter and unfocused and out of tune i would simply ring the bell, find the right team of writers and photographers and a couple web designers and we would just build and make it happen and sell some ads and get this party re-started.

of all the things im most proud of, LAist is on the top of the list because no one expected us to do what we did and it lasted 10 years after i touched it. and it blossomed.

i firmly believe that as custodians of the Earth it’s our job to make sure that we make things better than how we found them. a very simple job.

but i am stuck at the dumbest part. i dont think as we sit here at the doorstep of 2018 that you can start a new thing without having a corresponding Twitter account and all of the LA names i can think of for a new group blog are taken, mostly by creeps who haven’t even really used those names.

so i think of even newer names but theyre taken too.

i know i can’t use LAist because grampa Ricketts still owns it technically.

and i doubt i have enough $$$ to buy it from him.

but fuck that, i dont wanna give him any money after what he did to everyone.

it is time to start a new thing.

everything must go.

making tea for the bbc

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sometimes the things you have to do gets postponed

and the things you want to do receive a new life.

but theres a storm on the horizon. theres darkness approaching.

this computer, gurgles in the morning just like my benz which hiccups sometimes when it starts.

death is looming and i wish there was a way i could prevent it but alas.

my new years resolution will be difficult: im not going to fight people on the internet for a year

and im not going to flip drivers off when they run yellow lights when it’s clear that im trying to turn left.

im not an angry man. nor entitled. but for some reason i automatically expect people to drive courteously in los angeles.

and i expect people to have civilized discourse on the Twitter.

am i insane?

i am insane.

so currently i wage bizarre little battles with my fellow humans in situations where they act the way people do.

most recently i posted something on a facebook group about my little part of LA and some woman said that the corner that i was referring to was “highly ghetto”

and right now i want to rip her into shreds because yes there are people from all over who frequent that corner, and some of them are not super rich and and and

that’s what makes LA so wonderful.

do you think we would have taco culture without brown people? do you think we’d have hip hop culture without black people? does the fact that a corner doesnt have three coffee shops mean that it’s less-than some corner that does?

when i first moved to LA i got corrected a lot by the young women in my life who told me that i was not thinking before i spoke. and i appreciated those corrections.

but as the clash say in career opportunities
Do you wanna make tea at the BBC?
Do you really wanna be a cop?

i dont really wanna be a cop.

I get upset easily

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I have a short fuse. Especially with those closest to me. Which is crazy because those are the best ppl. Why am I like this?

It’s a terrible condition. I can be so cool, so sweet to strangers in my uber but with ppl who actually know me and Still love me I can be so pouty

and bratty

and demanding

and snotty it’s ridiculous.

This has to change.

But I’m not sure how to do it other than seeing a shrink

and I’m too cheap for that.

Plus where does that end.

I’d tell her to read this blog but nothing in here is true other than the uber and the xbi but that’ll distract her

and then I’ll be pouty with her.

Seeing a movie tonight.

Hopefully we both don’t fall asleep first.

sometimes you just drive

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and the weathers right

and your car is just floating a little

and you think, it’s good to have a good car.

sometimes the radio will play something good

and unexpected

like dinosaur jr or janes addiction

or an old metallica tune will remind you of where

shredding

peaked.

i was on the radio the other day and the person asked me

if the fcc destroys net neutrality

what do you think will happen?

i said, there was this character in the Firefly movie, Serenity, named Mr. Universe.  he was a reclusive tech nerd who lived on an empty moon with his smoking hot robot “wife”, Lenore.  he was maybe the smartest guy around. so when someone asked him about the bad guys trying to “stop the signal”,

Mr. Universe said, “you can’t stop the signal.”

when Uber started appearing in cities, people saw it’s glorious value and unlike many new things, politicians got out of the way because The People were not going to be without decent transportation at the right price.

The People will not be without fast Internet at a reasonable price.

the web is not a red blue thing. the web is for everyone.

not only will the offending ISPs and the politicians who support them go down, but new ISPs will sprout up and leapfrog today’s giants.

where there is darkness, comes the light.

and then we took calls.

happy thanksgiving to you and yours

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for the last several dozen decades i have looked at things that i am thankful for as things pertaining to *me*

things like job, cars, health, the cubs, are any hot babes loving me, all the things

but this morning i got a text from my mom and it nearly broke my heart.

she was happy to have a job but she didn’t want to have to go to work, she wanted to be cooking and watching football and doting on her grand kids.

but during the Great GOP Recession, just like tons of people, her retirement was wiped out and here she is working for The Man for peanuts on a day she would rather be watching the Macy’s Parade.

so i am not thankful. i am determined. i need to do something serious so my mom can finally retire.

and sadly it’s not drive more trips for Uber + Lyft.

or is it?

no, it’s not.

OR IS IT?

i need to write a script and sell it.

i gotta learn how to write a script.

and i know exactly the story i wanna tell: the time Joe got busted in Isla Vista

music by The Wonderfuls, The Ramones, Rogue Cheddar, Pink Floyd, Mons Pubis, PMS, and Janes Addiction.

it’ll be called Damn Those Shrooms Strong

danielle in san diego asks

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my love,

Why do churches have so many white vans? What are they for? Why white and completely non descript.

It’s suspect.

To say the least.

lovely danielle,

theres an office building on sunset near the beverly hills line in west hollywood. it overlooks bootsy bellows.

i got a ping today and the passenger was in front and i tried to make a u-turn but i ended up being forced to go into the parking structure, getting a little ticket but then making the u-turn and hoping that there would be no charge, there wasn’t, and finally exiting and seeing her there.

she was in her 60s, platinum hair. law professor out here on vacation.

as she talked i thought i heard something.

do i detect a midwest accent? i asked.

i’m from chicago, she said. i turned around my cap and said, did you see this?

she laughed. no, i missed that. and we were off.

i asked her if she went to the cubs victory parade, she said, not only that but my husband and i went to a world series game.

it was hot today. 85 or so. the AC was on and when she said that i turned it down one tick so i could hear her clearly.

he said, im gonna do it. i said if you do don’t tell me any of the details, she said.

i said, tickets were four thousand dollars. each.

she said, i told him and now i will tell you, do not tell me the details.

she laughed.

later i asked her something about her husband and she paused and said, he’s passed now.

but he had a long life and got to see the Cubs win the world series after all.

churches have white vans so they can go to baseball games undercover when they should be doing something dumb like buying wholesale incense.

is everything terrible

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will the sun come out ever again

will the moon rise?

do the birds even wanna chirp chirp chirp in the morning for us

do we even deserve it?

CBS the Morning was my jam, it woke me up.

i loved it because there wasn’t any fucking bullshit in there.

it was gale and nora and old man charlie rose

and charlie had seen it all so he sat there a little slumped over, smiling , cute little southern drawl slipping out

and nora and gayle pretended to flirt with him every now and then

sometimes theyd bring in the new kids from different CBS news shows but no one wanted them around.

i loved how only now and then all three were there.

i loved how one of them was always on vacation.

i loved it because it made me thing, i wanna be super famous one day.

so famous that i get to take vacations every six weeks.

yesterday charlie wasn’t there and that was ok with me.

but last night we learned why. we learned that Charlie liked to invite female staffers to his home in long island

and then casually walk around naked. allegedly.

one woman said he reached down in her dress and she cried the whole time.

allegedly.

will the stars ever twinkle again?

are me and my friends the only gentlemen alive?

are we from a faraway land where we feel slightly ashamed of our not 20yearold bodies

and thus we would never invite a super model we barely know to watch us shower

and we would be heartbroken if we made anyone cry.

at our house.

in long island.

allegedly.

and allegedly.

and all

aged

ly.

toughest question I was asked all week

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A very well meaning gentleman was tasked to help me on a project

he said can you draw it up for me.

I said no problem and in minutes I had it sketched out on a yellow legal pad using a blue pen

then he said the most curious thing. He said can you show me an example somewhere where someone else had done it?

I said have you ever met anyone like me?

I asked in your whole life how many xbi agents have you met?

even among uber drivers how many uber drivers do you know like me?

I said I am here to do

New Things

Big things

Cool things.

Things that if they had been done already, I wouldn’t be interested in.

No this hasn’t existed before and that’s why people are going to love it.

He asked well what about that saying that there’s nothing new under the sun?

I said I want you to listen to Pink Floyd’s greatest hits.

Yes there were guitars and bass and drums and vocals and saxophones before Pink Floyd

But there wasn’t Pink Floyd before or since.

And that’s what we should all strive for: to express our own unique freakiness that never was before we got here.

And one way to get there is to find the gaps where no ones ever been before.

And trust me, the audience will follow us there.

bon, who hadnt seen malcolm since 1980, gave him a hug

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a nice long one.

malcolm had been suffering for years of dementia

which is torture for a creative soul.

bon was all, i wanna introduce you to someone

and there he was, jimi hendrix

who handed him a thick 1949 Gibson ES-175, the first Gibson electric guitar to feature a Florentine cutaway beneath the neck, giving easy access to all 20 frets.

it also had a carved rosewood bridge.

the men plugged into three story high marshall stacks.

john bonham sat down behind the drums

and lemmy strapped on his bass.

bon counted it out and they broke into Highway to Hell

sarcastically, since they were in Heaven. surrounded by all the greats, many of whom always loved AC/DC and malcolm’s contribution to music, not just rock or hard rock, but damn good music you sing along to in the car

or scream at the football game.

shy little malcolm young, long hair over his eyes, peeks up every now and then watching the angels and saints

tap their feet

and welcome one of their own,

home.