I set up a phone number to use for recording interviews, but I probably won’t ever use it for that, seeing as this isn’t really an interview kind of joint (well, okay, with the exception of Carol Es, Mat Gleason and Hosho McCreesh).
But since the number is there I may as well open it up to comments, messages, threats or suggestions. So go ahead and call me: (628) 333-4860.
If you call, be aware that I may use your message on the podcast. So if you don’t want to be heard by an audience of millions (or thousands, anyway), you should probably resist the overwhelming urge to call.
This episode is ostensibly about Snapchat taking over all the buildings in Venice, but it’s really just an excuse for me to tell stories about living in Venice – where the debris meets the sea – a long time ago. You know, that and mucus, khakis, “Silicon Beach,” wombats, sticky carpets, sleeping bags, Sanford and Son, empty beer cans and pizza crusts, pagodas, driving stick, failing to stay out of Los Angeles County Jail, heroin, radio knobs, Bentleys and Maseratis, Boyle Heights, Leimert Park, gentrification (yes, again), snowbirds and Publishers Clearinghouse.
Comment by phone: (628) 333-4860 (Be aware: I may play your message on the show.)
Hi. Remember the beginning of the last thrilling episode, when I told you I was at the end of a week-long head and chest cold? Turns out I wasn’t.
I spent another week or so sleeping pretty much around the clock and trying not to tip over from dizziness when I was awake. That put somewhat of a crimp in my “production schedule,” as you might imagine.
All of which is to say, I’ve got nothing for you this month.
Okay, wait – not nothing. Here’s a picture of a box with a roll of Kodak Kodachrome film in it:
Did you know that you can’t get Kodachrome developed anywhere anymore? I don’t mean it’s really difficult to get it developed, or that you have to send it to a basement in Prague to get it developed. I mean it’s impossible to get it developed. No one on earth can do it now because the chemistry, specialized dyes and machinery don’t exist anymore. Which is really kind of amazing, considering every photo lab on the face of the earth could develop it 20 years ago.
There’s a lesson or a message in there somewhere, but you’ll have to find it for yourself.
Chaos and disorder fall upon a nation while millions march in the streets demanding…something. I’m just not sure what. So we may as well talk about protesting. And snakes, hot coals, stereo speakers, being polite, agitating, Century City, Reagan, patchouli, which hats are in fashion, Vietnam, the ERA, diet Coke, catastrophe and emergency, hypocrisy, mental illness, conscience, violent overthrow, economic pressure, Apartheid, inequality, having nothing to lose, lawyers, being part of the problem, being on the wrong side of the majority, lectures, solidarity and tacos.
It’s Bukowski time again, sort of, and along the way we may or may not touch on hair again, hopping on pop, nuclear winter, Ronald Reagan, “Baby, it’s cold outside,” Christmas songs, Cap’n Crunch, slapping broads around, male privilege, Rudy Vallee, amplified ants, Vietnam, the looming Trump era as a glass-half-full kind of thing, how you suck at doing Christmas, Rupert Murdoch, Abel Debritto, tarring and feathering, reruns of Seinfeld, breaking people who don’t want to talk, in praise of killing some trees, diseased pilgrims, Google cardboard and all virtual reality, ViewMaster, chirpwatch and pie and coffee.
You didn’t think I’d let this presidential election pass without saying something, did you? Well, actually, I had hoped to, but the whole thing didn’t exactly turn out the way a lot of us had hoped or expected, so here we are. As you may have noticed, the truth took a beating in the campaign and election. The way I see it, it took the death of the truth for Trump to triumph (try saying that five times fast), so that’s what we’re talking about today: how the death of the truth happens, and how those who wanted it dead carried out the murder. It’s just like the NPR podcast “Serial,” only it’s a lot shorter and only my opinion rather than a lot of meticulous research and reporting. Otherwise it’s just like it.
Thrill to the description of my DNA test results, and stay on the edge of your seat as I also provide grandiose oratory on Bob Dylan’s Nobel prize, Leonard Cohen, Tony Orlando, Casper the friendly ghost, tar and feathers, lefse and lutefisk, astrology, whimsy, turpitude, sushi, Eve, culture wars, old white men, ISIS or ISIL or JIMINY DING DONG or whatever it’s called, women in the kitchen, David Copperfield, Criss Angel, Goldman Sachs, JP Morgan, Merrill Lynch, our Ethiopian ancestors and A Boy Named Sue.
On Thursday night Cat Stevens played a 50th anniversary show at the Pantages theater in Hollywood. If you couldn’t be there I have the rundown for you.