Wednesday, November 28, 2007

The King of Federal Agents




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In 1970, Elvis Presley wrote to President Nixon asking to be made a Federal Agent-at-Large in the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs. He was concerned with the “hippie elements” and their “drug culture.”

Imagine, the biggest drug addict in America asking to be made a federal agent in the war on drugs.

Nixon gave him a federal agent’s badge and a few years later Fat Elvis added the “at large” part, and then he died of a massive drug overdose while sitting on his toilet, causing him to fall face first and suffocate in his two inch shag carpet. Classic. Irony.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Hey You! Watch the Road.


As you drive east on Venice Blvd in Western California, you probably will take your eyes off of the road to look up at this sign. This is one of the greatest examples of irony ever. Whoever dreamed this up is a genius. Can you picture someone reading it and rear-ending the car in front of them and a huge chain reaction accident developing? Sweet!

And speaking of driving in Los Angeles….there are big problems. The lack of public transportation fiasco has crippled this city. People can no longer go anywhere for a good portion of the day. I would love to go to Hollywood from the Westside, but it has become impossible! Want to see the Dodgers? Get ready to sit in your car for two hours before and after the game. Clubbing in Hollywood? Get ready for packed streets, with people walking faster than you can drive…again for hours. Want to go somewhere on a Friday afternoon? Sorry, you can’t.

It is a quality of life and public health issue that should have people filing a large class-action lawsuit against whoever is responsible for the people of L.A. sitting in their cars every day for hours breathing in car exhaust.

Los Angeles is a great city but the transportation disaster is turning it into a dysfunctional mess and it doesn’t look to be fixed anytime soon.

Monday, November 26, 2007

St. Louis




I went to St. Louis for four days as part of my racketeering gig. My hotel was located INSIDE of a shopping mall, so every day I walked out of my room and straight into that weird lighting and music and scores of wandering aimless teenagers with brightly colored hoodies holding slushy drinks.

My first night in St. Louis I went to the infamous Casino Queen in East St. Louis; very depressing atmosphere full of beaten down people chain-smoking and playing cartoon-like slot machines. After five minutes, my eyes were burning from the clouds of toxic nicotine gas that settled over the crowd. Fortunately, the drinks were only a dollar, so I was able to dull the pain with only a few bucks. I don’t gamble, so it was a short and cheap night. Smoking cigarettes was a big deal in St. Louis. Everywhere I went, people were lighting up with that wrinkled brown bag skin look and raspy voices.

Next morning I woke up and walked to the baseball stadium. Many of the new stadiums being built look great and have fan-friendly amenities that Dodger Stadium is completely lacking. They are located downtown, with city views, historical statues, close to public transportation and surrounded by good bars and restaurants. A few stadiums have even set up establishments run by ex-players like Boog Powell’s Baltimore Barbecue, and St. Louis has a bar with Al Hrabosky the Mad Hungarian as its namesake. I began formulating a new idea for Los Angeles--Daryl Strawberry’s Crack House. Stadium officials could put up a shack in the parking lot and have Daryl and other infamous neighborhood legends slanging rock and hanging out with their peeps and mingling with Dodger fans who want to experience the high life. I’m sure this would be a big hit.

Next, I walked to the big metal arch thing that is next to the river. I figured I could take an elevator up to the top and take a picture, but it was all crowded and I finally got in and learned that I had to wait two more hours to go up. I watched a great documentary and looked at the Lewis and Clark exhibit and then I began the process of getting to the top. I won’t bore with the details but it involves more lines more waits and then a hot stuffy claustrophobic ride up to the top where you look out some really small dirty windows and go back down as soon as possible. Not worth it and it took all day.

Headed out to the Del Mar Loop, which is like a smaller and cleaner version of Haight Street with hipsters and hippies and record stores. I still had not paid once for the metro public transportation and had made numerous trips back and forth across the city. I wondered if others were riding for free also.

St. Louis is full of people wearing mouth jewelry. Big grills that make it difficult to speak. At one point, late at night, I was the only white dude on a crowded metro line and everyone was grilled out with these brightly colored hoodies listening to loud headphones and rapping along with their individual ear concert. It was loud with everyone moving their hands around cursing to the beat and their grills were so big that they had trouble enunciating the lines. I wish I had a video camera because it was like a macabre party with everyone drinking and riding the metro all acting intense but friendly-like at the same time. And then the metro stopped and everyone was ordered off, and security came down and walked around checking everything and the train left with everyone standing in the cold wondering what now? Finally another train arrived to continue the party.

The next morning I went on the Anheuser Busch Brewery Tour. I walked for what seemed like two hours through a strange part of town called Soulard with small red brick houses and many small neighborhood pubs full of guys watching sports, talking loud, and waving lit cigarettes in the air. I was beginning to notice that St. Louis is full of abandoned houses with boarded up windows and in E. Saint Louis there are large office-type buildings which are abandoned with broken windows and surrounded by empty lots. Why are there so many empty buildings and why aren’t the homeless people from other cities making their way to St. Louis? Maybe this is why I didn’t see ANY homeless people the whole time. But I did see lots of smokers with grills…people not barbecues.

Anyway, the Budweiser tour isn’t that great. It’s very corporate and the Clydesdale horses do not seem happy as they are housed in a small barn next to a bunch of barking Spuds Mackenzie dogs. Afterwards, they give you a few beers and some pretzels, so it’s not a complete waste of time.

Did the long walk back to the hotel mall, noticing that drivers do not stop for people in intersections, which is different from Western California, where pedestrians can do whatever they want and the cars have to stop.

Went to see The Evens, a folk-punk band featuring Ian Mackaye at some out-of-the-way art space in some other abandoned part of town. They put on a great show with much audience participation and great music and insightful comments of course. A must-see, especially for 5 bucks.

And that was St. Louis.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

What is That?


Is it a waste disposal site in Cleveland?

Chinese metal dump?

Three-Mile Island?

Tijuana Power Plant?

Storm Drain Reclamation Project in New Jersey?

Bombay Sewer Treatment Plant?

Uranium Mine in Kyrgyzstan?


None of the above; I pulled my car over near the 405 Freeway in Carson, West California and took this photo. I have no idea what it is.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Good Books


I am a reading addict. There, I said it, and I hope to never recover. I carry around a bag full of books, newspapers, and magazines disguised as a briefcase. I have different books strategically placed around the house for quick reads and I am a frequent and habitual user of public libraries.

My mother says that when I was little, kids would invite me to birthday parties and I would bring a book and sit in the corner and read it. I still do that. What’s the big deal? I wake up periodically in the night and open my books to read them. I keep a whole library in my car for use in traffic. I am so near-sighted that my optometrist makes jokes about how I must be reading all day and night. I don’t let him know the truth; I just smile and act puzzled.

Books are great companions. Atticus Finch is my best friend, and when I need a traveling partner I bring Meaursault. Here are some of my favorites, in no particular order.


On The Road by Jack Kerouac

I avoid rereading this book because I am afraid that it won’t be as good. And maybe it never was as good as I though it was. But it was one of the most important books of my formative years. Like most good stories, it involves a journey with beautiful descriptions, philosophical questions, booze, women, cars and written in an amphetamine non-stop spontaneous prose that desperately deserves editing to be understood by squares. Although I prefer the anguish and situation of The Subterraneans and the poetry and description of Desolation Angels, On The Road got me on the road, literally, with my own Dean Moriarty as driver, and provided a good introduction to the characters and lifestyles of hipsterville.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

If Boo Radley was the first punk turned goth, then Huckleberry Finn was the first American punk rocker. Runs away from alcoholic dad, school, and religious caretaker, has adventures, gives corrupt society the middle finger and finally decides to do the right thing even if it means going to hell. Genius irony, great dialogue, characters, a symbolic journey and quest for freedom. Too bad the second half of the book completely sucks.

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Raskolnikov commits a murder for no good reason and then spends the rest of the novel trapped in paranoia and overwrought psychological tension. It is not an easy novel, but it is so deep and Dostoyevsky is such a good writer as he weaves his way through the psychological character profiles that it remains a smooth read. I would also recommend the Grand Inquisitor chapter from The Brothers Karamozov as essential literature.

You Can’t Win by Jack Black

This is my favorite book. It is the autobiography of Jack Black, a career criminal hobo burglar junkie who traveled the country in the late 1800’s. Jack tells the story of opium dens, Canadian prisons, saloons, stickups, train-hopping, brothels, hobo encampments and wild safecracking stories with great descriptions and insights. There is an introduction by William S. Burroughs and the cover says, “For Criminals of All Ages.” This is a must read if you are into this sort of genre and it really captures an underworld slice of history that is totally fascinating. Jack Black is a true Western hero who has written one of the greatest books of all time. “To live outside the law, you must be honest.” B. Dylan

Mother Night by Kurt Vonnegut

Like any right-living person, I love almost all of Vonnegut’s books, but this one is my personal favorite because of its evil dark humor. It is the story of an American Nazi spy with a cast of unforgettable characters and brilliant irony. The lesson from this book is that “We are what we pretend to be, so be careful what you pretend to be.” For me, the darkest sections of the human heart are sometimes the tastiest and this book is tasty. It’s pretty short too.

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

It’s sad that one has to read this book hidden inside another book to avoid unpleasant looks and comments. Incredible use of language, plot twists, a journey, a twisted love story. People who avoid this book are missing out on a great American novel. I was in a graduate lit class years ago and a group of females refused to read the book and criticized the professor for including it in the syllabus. Look, just read it. It’s like enjoying a good horror movie. Guilt-free.

Books by John Krakauer

He is a great non-fiction writer of Into The Wild and Into Thin Air and other assorted stories of adventure. One book is about a kid who rejects society and goes off in to the woods, another is about an ill-fated summit of Mt. Everest and he just wrote a book about the Mormon Church which is o.k.

Punk Rock Biographies

Open up and Bleed
Lexicon Devil
Please Kill Me
We got the Nuetron Bomb
Last Gang in Town
Surviving the Ramones
Anything by Lester Bangs


Some other good or important books

The Stranger by Camus
100 years of Solitude by Marquez
A Bend in the River by Naipul
The Good Earth by Buck
All Quiet on the Western Front by Remarque
Death Comes for the Archbishop by Cather

Coleridge's Green Thumb


I enjoy gardening. In Western California, we can grow things year-round. For years I grew herbs and vegetables, but recently these large flowers have sprung up in the flower bed. They only bloom for a short time and then the petals fall off. Interestingly, I have found that the white goo that oozes from the pod when sliced with a razor blade makes for a strong brew of tea. It is relaxing and after I drink it I feel like there are no problems.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The Sixth Man Award


Lakers vs. Trailblazers Game 7 Conference Finals

The greatest game I have ever been to and I played a largely unknown but pivotal part in the victory. Let me set the scene…

The Lakers, after years of pretty good teams and some talent, finally put it together in the year 2000 with Kobe, Shaq, and Phil. They were ready to march to the championship until the seventh game in Los Angeles against the hated Jailblazers. I had tickets to the game somehow. They were in the top row at the end of the Staples Center, which is very far from the action.

Anyway the game was a disaster. The Blazers dominated for three quarters and it looked like the season was over, but with the Lakers down by like 15 right before the end of the third quarter, Brian Shaw banked in a three pointer.

And then the game completely changed. The Blazers could not make a basket and the Lakers were steadily gaining. People started getting excited and the people in my row noticed that every time I stood up, the Lakers would miss a basket. If I stayed seated, the ball went in. It was weird and it kept happening and more and more people began noticing. Unfortunately, everyone in the place was standing and while seated, I could not see anything. But the Lakers kept making shots and if I tried to stand up, strangers would push me back down. Somehow it worked and miraculously the Lakers pulled off one of the greatest and most stunning comebacks in history. I did not see any of the last 10 minutes from my seat but I could hear people going crazy and it was satisfying to know that I was playing a crucial role in a historic game, and I was lavishly praised at the end by the twenty people in my row. I never received credit from the Laker organization, but I also never asked for any. I just did my part to bring the championship to Los Angeles.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Stupid Bumper Stickers


I was driving the other day when I noticed a bumper sticker that read, “Don’t Abandon Your Baby!” It got me thinking. Who would put this on a car? First of all, is there anyone driving around pregnant and about to give birth who would see this bumper sticker and think, “Hey maybe that guy ahead of me in the white pickup truck is right, maybe I shouldn’t abandon my baby. I think I’ll keep it. Thanks whoever you are!”

Why would someone put that on their car? Do they want people to know that they are some sort of self-righteous crusader out saving babies? Yes!! The other one that is similar is the sticker entitled “Stop Senior Abuse!” Again, is this pertinent information? Would someone who is driving over to some place to fight an elderly person see this sticker and think, “Hey maybe that guy is right. Maybe I should stop beating up senior citizens.”

What’s next?
Don’t Poison Your Neighbor’s Dog!
Don’t Throw Items From Freeway Overpasses!
Stop Abducting People!
Racism is a Very Bad Thing!
Pollution Sucks!
Stop Leaving Lights On When you go to Sleep!
Don’t Avoid The Dentist!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Music


Life is full of great things—baseball, roller coasters, films, safety pins, Mission Street Burritos, The Wire, books, red wine….but music is the best thing in life. My first albums bought for me by my parents for Christmas were Never Mind the Bollocks, Rodney on the Rock Vol. I, Devo, and The Beach Boys. From then on, music got me through everything in life. I spent many hours as a teenager sitting in my room reading album lyrics, trying to figure out the guitar and organizing my records. I can still think of nothing better than listening to music with good friends late at night….

Here is a short list of my favorites. The photo is of Elvis’ grave at Graceland, which I will report on in a future post.


Top Bands List (in no certain order)

Rolling Stones- Great albums from the sixties to the early 80’s. Many styles, excellent lyrics, musicianship. Ultimate rock stars with lifestyles that set the standard for how a rock star should dress, act, live and die. Just remember that this is Keith’s band and Exile, while flawed, is the masterpiece. Sticky Fingers! Experienced them with Guns and Roses at the Coliseum.


The Clash—Politics, ska, drugs, style. The first album was the beginning of punk rock as we know it. Sure, the Pistols, Stooges, and the Ramones may have been there a little earlier, but the Clash were the whole modern punk package. As they tried different styles of music and hairstyles, it got a bit watered down, but always they remained cool and relevant. Never saw em. Missed the US Festival.


Bob Dylan-- Not really a band but still the greatest lyrical genius since Shakespeare. It was almost mystical how he wrote hundreds of songs that rival some of the greatest classical poetry ever written. Even he can’t seem to explain it, and I like the weird religious stages and accidents and disappearances. His interviews are must reading along with the film “Don’t Look Back.” And he could rock if needed. Maintained rock star image 24/7. Saw him at the Antelope Valley Festival a few years ago.


Iggy and the Stooges—Only three albums but Iggy was cutting himself on stage, smearing himself with peanut butter, dressed in women’s clothing while screaming “I Feel Alright!” in 1967. Way ahead of his time. The music was like grunge power metal punk not tainted by talent. These guys could barely play but rocked like none other. After the stooges, Iggy was homeless then fled to Berlin with David Bowie and reinvented himself as a pop alternative act. And still stayed important and prolific. Still rocking and looking sickly well. Saw him at a small club in Santa Barbara one time.


Tom Waits—Can write like Dylan but is also a musical genius and plays almost all of his instruments. One of the better actors and interviews anywhere. Very intelligent. Early career made drunken bowery piano music while keeping up a witty comic act on stage. Moved into more avant garde type stuff later. Moves down on the list because he has kind of given up lately. His music makes me cry. Boo ‘frickin Hoo. Saw him at the Wiltern years ago. Amazing.

Great Bands that made one or two really good albums

Sex Pistols—Only one album and then self-destruction. But it changed all of music as we know it. Rotten’s snarl and the guitar booming caused a whole generation to poke safety pins through their cheeks, put on boots and tell their parents off. The lyrics were so unheard of at the time “I am an antichrist. I am an anarchist! Don’t know what I want but I know how to get it.” “No Future for England” Brilliant!! And they looked cool. One of the greatest losses was that they only did one album and that the extremely lame Sid Vicious is associated with them, but the way that they disintegrated was perfectly punk and authentic.


Pavement—Two brilliant albums that came out of nowhere and caused all of the post-punks to ask WTF? Poetic lyrics that made no sense. An emo skinny singer and a band of total geeks making beautiful complicated music. Everyone who hears them, loves them. They did not care about success and had no rock star attitude.


NWA- That one album was so scary and demented. Everyone took notice.


Velvet Underground—Dark glasses, urban white artist pretend-junkies, abstract films, 10 minute songs with only feedback in the sixties. Ahead of their time. Didn’t sell many records, but according to someone who knows, everyone who bought a record formed their own band. Hugely influential on many levels.