I
was back from production for about ten days and
tomorrow morning I'm heading back to L.A. for
another round. This schedule didn't give me an
opportunity to trash Los Angeles from the last
trip. Lest you think I've burned all my wrath
with Chicago, here's some choice words for my
Southern California brethren.
I
hate L.A.
See,
I'm a lifelong Giants fan, and lifelong Giants
fans hate L.A. But it goes beyond baseball.
It
comes from the whole SoCal attitude; the artiface.
It's for good reason people associate Hell-A with
plastic surgery. This is both a blessing and a
smite. I enjoy the eye candy as much as the next
guy. There's something reassuring to know that
you can score with a hottie in L.A. as long as
you have power. And I don't mean greenlight-a-movie
power. I mean anything from being self-employed
to driving a nice car. People are attracted to
the material things down there.
A
big point of Northern-Southern contention....
Northern California's sick and tired of paying
SoCal's way. Our standard of living is higher
up here and subsequently, we have to subsidize
L.A.'s lifestyle. Our gas prices are higher, though
ultimately, they consume a ton more gas than we
do. During the water shortages of the 80's, we
had a cap on water usage. Most Northerners let
their grass go brown, but a quick drive through
the SoCal suburbs reveal acres of green lawns.
Those damn fuckers.
And
the traffic... what is it about Angelenos that
make them love their cars? Whether its the jam-packed
freeways or the weekly televised car chases, people
down here are obsessed with motor vehicles. And
they love looking at shit. As the story goes,
there once was a tarp caught in a fence by the
freeway. People in both directions slowed down
to look at this tarp, flapping in the wind. They
backed up traffic for an hour to look at this
inanimate object caught in a fence.
My
sister lives in L.A. She has become part of the
whole L.A. lifestyle. Once my brother exited a
restaurant with her. They decided to go dessert
at a place half a block away from dinner. As my
brother started walking, she called for the valet
to get her car. "But the dessert place is
right there, half a block away. I can see it!"
Her reply: "no one walks in L.A." I
guess Missing Persons were right. No one walks
down there.
During
the last job, we got Giants-Dodgers tickets. We
left for the stadium two hours early. We got stuck
in Dodger Stadium traffic and didn't make it in
until the third inning. Now I was always under
the impression that Dodger fans were an impassive
bunch. Fair-weather fans. Well those fans must've
defected to the Angels because the Dodger faithful
were loud, abusive dolts. They reminded me a lot
of Raider fans. I saw three ejections, all Giant
fans. The Giant fans were harassed to the edge
of violence before they were deemed security risks
and escorted out. Fucking Dodger fans.
I
don't even know if you can call Dodger baseball
real baseball. First off, beach balls. Yeah, they
still bat around fucking beach balls at Dodger
games. Kinda fruity. Sick to my stomach, I was
surprised that no one had started the wave....
oops, i spoke too soon. Someone started a wave.
Crap. Could it get any worse? Yes.
During
the seventh inning stretch I rose to sing "Take
me out to the ballgame." I would, of course,
insert "Giants" where the SoCal fans
would be singing "Dodgers." They ran
through the song.... then they fucking sang it
again. I turned to the Cubs fan next to me. Both
of us were dumbfounded. Who the fuck sings "Take
me out to the ballgame" twice!?! Ah well,
another chance for me to shout my allegiance to
the Giants. Several heads turned in my direction.
"Fuck you, you fucking Dodger fan!"
Well,
that's what I said in my head at least.
In
case you're ever in my neck of the woods, you've
got to swing by the coolest comic book shop in
the world, Isotope. The proprietor, James Sime
has done more than anyone I know to encourage
readership in comics.
He
hosts signings almost every week with great comic
creators from all over the world (literally).
A
few months ago, he hosted writer Warren Ellis.
Knowing Mr. Ellis was a scotch drinker, he lured
him to the store with a night of scotch tasting.
Over 30 labels were sampled. James has also hosted
wine and cheese tastings in the store.
Every
Wednesday, on new comic day, he opens the bar
and keeps the store open until 9pm. Some of his
parties go until 5am. Pretty sweet for a comic
book shop. When the cops come round, he usually
charms them away and the party continues.
Meet
the staff at http://www.isotopecomics.com
