for my Roku
bought an ethernet cable today
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drove two coworkers to the chance the rapper show
it was actually one coworker and his hot babe girlfriend
we talked about all the normal things: the bible, isla vista, frat houses, halloween and films starring child actors.
sometimes i think the world would be better if i just let the passengers talk when i drove them
theyve got good stories to tell i bet
clearly mine are good
but imagine the modern day mark twain was sitting back there
and i didnt even give bro a chance to tell me about the time he took a steamboat down the mighty Mississip?
or about the time he painted a fence white with his homie Huck.
or that one raft ride he took with Nigger Jim?
odds are my passengers dont have stories about life on the mississippi
but what if they have even better tales
tales of nights drinking mead around a round table
stories about trading arms for hostages
lies about how the 2nd amendment isnt a raging dumpster fire of tragedy slowly tearing out country apart.
afterwards i drove home, woke amber up from her nap, then she went to work
then i was alone.
all night.
except for the cats who befriended me,
but only because they were hungry.
the LAT has decided to unionize
seems like theyre nervous about their parent company Tronc
which is the Tribune, of Chicago, which hasn’t really given them any reason to trust
first of all, dumb name, tronc, wtf.
next, they made the editors ALSO publishers which breaks so many rules of journalism
then they did weird things like try to get their execs to go to the Oscars
allegedly they took the tickets allocated to the writers and gave em to the Chicago bigwigs
then they fired a half dozen top editors
then when they realized a copy editor was married to someone they had just axed, they fired her too.
thats not exactly how you build trust.
and it’s not even journalistically sound.
hows about only fire people if they suck. dont fire them if they intimidate you or are married to someone you just canned?
it makes me doubly sad because i grew up reading Chicago journalism
and i spent four of my happiest years at the Times with many of these professionals
most of the time they were teaching me how to be professional.
the LA Times not only wanted the best writing and editing and photography and graphics and art and and and and but they also wanted it to be done correctly.
it was a slow process and not everyone was on board but for the most part the goal was simple: dont fuck up and you wont if you have the proper goals
accuracy was the properest of goals.
not speed.
i remember the day Michael Jackson died. a bunch of outlets were saying he was dead and maybe he was dead but the whole world was waiting for the ultimate umpire of a Los Angeles tragedy to make the call.
our site nearly went down because so many people were refreshing their browsers.
at first we thought we were getting hacked or it was a virus because the traffic was crippling to the mighty site.
and when the news finally was published it was so bittersweet because finally we knew the truth
but the truth was so so so so sad.
but it was the truth, which is all that matters inside that building.
tronc fucked up in major ways in their relationship with the LA Times
they should have seen this coming, they should have seen that they created this.
but alas, they have different goals
and the satisfaction of the hard working and veteran LA Times staff has not been one of them.
which was so dumb it’s hard to believe.
there’s two kinds of people in LA: phonies and friends
you cant really blame the phonies because theres these beautiful houses on the hills of hollywood and mansions in beverly hills
not to mention beach pads in malibu
and fancy cars stuck in traffic alongside you.
and the phonies think that if they change who they are they will get the things that they want.
of course they are wrong. dead wrong. mostly wrong.
life is about living Your life, your truth, your path.
and if you get the house on the hill off that then great, you don’t have to change anything once you get it.
what the people in those houses won’t tell you is the turnover rate of those mcmansions are high
not because people be flipping them
but because fakers don’t belong there and the houses spit em right out.
tom petty died twice yesterday and he was no faker.
once he brought the Replacements on tour with him and they even jammed with he and the Heartbreakers from time to time.
the first time I saw Tom Petty was in the mid-80s. the Southern Accents tour.
i was renting a room from an old lady in Inglewood and I walked down to the show at the Forum.
for some reason i had an extra ticket and no one was buying so i placed my ticket down on the ground in the parking lot.
i dont think anyone took it.
next time i saw him was in 1989, also at the Forum, when the Replacements opened.
it was so surreal seeing them play in such a huge place, for them.
i dont remember a thing about Petty’s performance because i was so nuts for the Mats.
im sure i saw him again but the next time I am certain about was in january of 1997.
he played five nights at the legendary Fillmore in Frisco
only reason i know which show i went to was afterwards they were handing out Free posters and it was the night of the green mermaid.
again, no memories of the show other than the poster.
which i have carried around with me from apartment to apartment, lo these 20 years since.
about 10 years ago he played at the Hollywood Bowl and i didn’t have tickets so i brought $100 cash with me but everyone was selling tickets starting at $150
so i went home.
then a few years ago he played several nights at the smaller-than-the-Fillmore Henry Fonda Theater. my buddy Todd had a last minute extra ticket and he asked if i wanted to go, i said hell yeah
and that was the first time i ever took Uber cuz i had to get there fast and i didnt wanna park.
you may have remembered my little blog post about how we sat in the bar and listened through the door for a bunch of it because it sounded soooo good out there in the lobby because Petty had these arena sized amps and it filled the little club so well
probably the best sounding show ive ever been to.
the last time i saw him was just a few weeks ago at the Bowl.
i had heard that he was sick so i didnt sell my tickets.
we went. we laughed. we sang. and we got a little sad when glitches of something not so right appeared through his person.
in fact the whole time i felt like i was watching a time bomb slowly tick tick ticking.
so when they announced on twitter yesterday that he was rushed to the hospital i was all, whattya know, the person who told me was right about his illness.
and then last night he died and even though we were already sad about Vegas, i was doubly sad about Petty
a guy who was never a phony
who was always cool
who never tried to be anyone other than who he was: a chill lover of rock and all that has made up rock.
but i still cant believe he’s gone.
had the most beautiful dream last night
i never dream, so when i do they’re usually bad
because they know they’re unwelcome
but this one was fantastic
and when i woke up i felt good inside.
but as i watched football today i thought
wait a damn second
that dream tricked you.
aint nothing changed in your life.
everythings exactly the same.
because that did not happen.
why would you believe the movie
and not the book.
every day i write the book.
we know what the truth is.
truth is that dog wanted his hair cut that way, aint nobody’s fault.
everybody wants something a little different.
and some people want dreams.
well you can have mine.
free.
did the longest lyft ride i ever did yesterday
prettiest girl you ever did see.
black girl!
curls and curls and curls and curls
fuzzy flip flops and a big purse.
picked her up in the hills of hollywood and we needed to run some errands she told me
most expensive brand lyft has and there i was playing old school smooth jazz from wes montgomery
on a saturday afternoon in los angeles
smack dab on a Jewish holiday.
the roads were smooth, the sun was bright
and first thing she says once we get rolling is
oooh – i like that music.
i have this theory that i may have shared once before about native californians, including native los angelenos and that is that they are extremely mellow and down to earth because if they grew up here
they have seen it all
and i would say that even though she had the funniest way of saying things
she was chill
so we went south then east then west then south
talking about race, soul food, tacos, bell hooks, college, snapchat and most importantly taking three busses to get to high school
hour and a half drive.
there were times when there wasnt anything to say and nothing was said.
rarely does that happen but there it was.
and when it was done she even tipped me.
called my mom as i drove home and called it a day.
but not before ordering some bell hooks off amazon.
i already know my new year resolution
stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter stop fighting with strangers on twitter
and facebook
there were two magazines that made an impact on teenage busblog
one of playboy, naturally.
the other was Cosmo.
living in a divorced home, my moms magazines were in her bathroom, neatly stacked.
and when i visited my dad, his mens magazines were in his closet. also, neatly stacked.
both had photos of scantily clad women, which was the bait for every teenage boy.
and both had articles, which were the Switch.
playboy was filled with stories about jazz, shiny cars, new technology, rankings of sports teams, and of course sex advice.
Cosmo also had articles which were about how to deal with your shitty husband, how to convince your shitty boyfriend to marry you, fantasies about cheating on your man, and quizzes to show you that you and your man are not compatible.
month after month Playboy showed me an, albeit skewed, take on life that I could be great in bed, rich, hunky, healthy, and well-versed in literature.
and month after month Cosmopolitan taught me that even if I lied in the quiz: men and women would never be happy together.
even though it was mildly depressing, I kept flipping through Cosmo because: omg boobies.
and once i got tired of looking at the omg boobies in Playboy, I would return to the articles I hadn’t read yet, and the comics, and the jokes, and the weird mail-order offers, and the letters, and the interviews. And the fiction that went on and on and on.
both magazines tricked me into reading. and both magazines delivered onto me a distorted look at masculinity.
one was devastating, the other hopeful.
and while so many who wish to judge Hef for airbrushing his models, i ask: have you ever seen what they do with the covers of women’s magazines? it’s even more exaggerated at times.
which doesn’t make it right. at all. and sure as hell doesn’t help prepare teen boys and girls everywhere for the reality of waking up next to someone in the morning.
but in a world that is so confusing, no matter what age, sign me up for the deliverer of Hope.
which is why I will defend and thank Mr. Hugh Hefner for his print product, even though I never became that suave dude in his pages.
yesterday a complicated man died at 91 years old
we are all complicated.
we are all super nice to some people and cant fucking stand others.
my mom is the greatest grandma and mom and friend and co worker
but if neighbor kids play on her lawn she freaks out like a dog does on a squirrel.
THERE’S A PARK LITERALLY ONE BLOCK AWAY! she’ll grumble.
hugh hefner was even more complicated. he loved women so much that he wanted to look at them all the time. clothed, unclothed, sorta clothed.
and omg he wanted to live with them!
unlike a lot of his critics, i actually got to meet him a couple of times and i was invited to have a one on one interview with him when i worked for the LA Times. i asked him all the questions i wanted to ask him and he answered them openly and honestly.
some today are saying he was the saint of not giving a fuck. but he cared very deeply. in fact he cared so much about being misquoted that he had his own video team filming my interview so he would have proof if i was up to something. i appreciated that.
he was a friend of the First Amendment, Jazz, Civil Rights, good writing, science, humor, and the most sensitive topic of all: human sexuality.
weirdly he wasn’t able to rid the conflicts that people have in their minds about an untraditional sex life. but he tried.
one way he tried was by living by example. he told me the happiest times of his life was when he was married. he explained that he was a romantic but he also loved learning and exploring and experimenting. so when his previous two marriages failed, he did what most men would do if they could: he lived the life of a single man.
heres the things i loved about Hef: he made a magazine that had a naked superstar in its center during a time that was so uptight that naked bodies were only allowed if they were of black people in Africa. to display an American white woman was super dooper taboo. And he did it and it was an overnight success.
he made a magazine that championed quality music, style, fiction, nonfiction, sports, politics, interviews, cars, stereo equipment and even religion.
he loved animals so much he had a mini zoo at his house. And full time zookeepers. one of the very few private residences in LA that was allowed to have such a zoo.
who saved the Hollywood sign? (it was Hef)
i loved how he proved how important his magazine was (and is) simply by the reactions that people EVEN TODAY have about the nude body.
they still can’t get over the fact that he had pictures of boobies in his magazine.
even my beloved LA Times in the Metro Section today, written by one of their top editors has a story about his life but they simply couldn’t do it without putting “hedonistic” in the headline.
Hedonism is defined as the pursuit of pleasure. Who among us isn’t looking for pleasure?
and as much as i am truly madly deeply in love with my local paper, they are stuck in the same exact 1950s uptight sexually repressed mindset that Hef so successfully rebelled against.
Sex is part of life.
It’s ok to have fantasies.
It’s ok to be just as progressive about our sex lives as we are about our politics.
And if you were to have someone preach those messages, isn’t it nice to have that same person not be a hypocrite, and actually live that way.
Hugh Hefner was a fascinating groundbreaking publisher who loved journalists of all kinds.
He loved film and scrapbooking.
But most of all, at his heart, he loved love.
That’s what I loved the most about him.
in the days of chimpanzees i was a busblog
spent part of the weekend fighting with people on Twitter about why NFL players were kneeling during the National Anthem.
It’s tough to argue on Twitter for a few reasons:
1. some people want to remain in the dark
2. im a verbose SOB thus it’s tough to stick to just 140 letters
3. i was watching football and forgot that i was arguing with half of the South.
the biggest problem was these people kept wanting to say that by kneeling during the Anthem, the players are disrespecting the flag.
as if the flag has feelings. it’s cloth i told them.
THESE PLAYERS ARE PROTESTING THE FACT THAT COPS MURDER BLACK PEOPLE AND GET AWAY WITH IT. I’d say.
but they didn’t want to hear it. and it was curious.
im sorry they arent protesting the way they want people to protest. when Trump tried to impose the racist Muslim ban, people took to the streets. The Trumpsters whined accusing the protesters of being paid. They complained that the traffic was bad now. They bitched that the signs were painting them in a bad light.
so here you have a protest that doesn’t affect anything. it doesn’t keep the flag from flying. it doesn’t keep the singer from singing. and it doesn’t even affect the game.
so they bring the military into it: “these selfish millionaire football players are disrespecting all the veterans who fought for this country!”
as if these Trumpsters care about the military. Aren’t a good chunk of homeless people veterans? Where were these defenders of the troops when W was cutting the VA?
but more importantly: is a veteran more American than a schoolteacher or a Community Organizer?
hey man, some of my best friends fought in wars. but members of the military are just Part of America. firefighters, nurses, farmers, fruit pickers, union bosses, seamstresses, and even your neighborhood blogger are all important parts of our society and we are all Americans who, when we are at our best, contribute to what makes the USA the second-greatest country in this continent.
hi baby.
long live every man woman and drone who defends this country and all the things we stand for but at what point is someone going to say, please stop using veterans as pawns for your bullshit argument?
the actual issue at hand is kids, teens, adults and even women have been straight up murdered by police and those cops paid no price even when they said
I DON’T KNOW WHY I SHOT THAT BLACK MAN WHO HAD HIS HANDS UP.
Yes. Yes you do. You know damn well why you do. And until we get that unsubstantiated fear out of the minds of our police force we are going to continue to have innocent dead black folks and athletes kneeling in protest.
but we can’t get there until we knock off this fucking shit about the flag or the military or the “country”.
until the flag murders a kid holding a toy gun, no one has any problem with the flag.
until the military says “i’m gonna kill this MFer”, kills a citizen, plants a gun on him and gets away with it, no one has a problem with the military.
athletes are kneeling because it is working. it is getting the word out there that police brutality and murder will not be tolerated.
the President of the United States wants to pretend that this is not about race or cops or anything other than the flag.
which is why you know it’s not about the freaking flag.
and now i wish i had learned how to run a Post Route so i could kneel
with my clenched fist up
during every anthem my team played on Sundays.