The Dead Zone
So what to do when Hollywood Bieberbag meatwads and Monica Models float by on the Sunset Blvd. pools of our imagination?
Kick a puppy in the nads, I says.
Another year has passed for your humble narrator in the City of Angels. Another year away from New York.
Some projects happen. Other’s don’t.
The sun will rise. The sun will set. Lou Gorman will have lunch.
It’s that creepy quiet time in Los Angeles between Christmas and New Years. The weather is the same. The churning 20-somethings with a web series and a dream are the same.
But everything gets more quiet.
Turned down.
The desperation and flop sweat of a city built on selling fraudulent dreams and overpriced yoga mats dims.
Just for a moment.
Before Ryan Seacrest and a lot of noise and then the whole churn and burn begins again.
Perhaps Nathanael West said it best in his 1939 classic novella of Hollywood angst, The Day of the Locust:
Their boredom becomes more and more terrible. They realize that they’ve been tricked and burn with resentment. Every day of their lives they read the newspapers and went to the movies. Both fed them on lynchings, murder, sex crimes, explosions, wrecks, love nests, fires, miracles, revolutions, war. This daily diet made sophisticates of them. The sun is a joke. Oranges can’t titillate their jaded palates. Nothing can ever be violent enough to make taut their slack minds and bodies. They have been cheated and betrayed. They have slaved and saved for nothing.
But hey, it beats living in snow country I says. I paid my dues.
Oranges.
Yeah the concept of the deserving poor is lost on some. Particularly members of the lucky sperm club, who buy into the pretence of equality … Of, ‘there’s room at the top, son, if you just put in enough effort.”
Jesus H. Fucking Christ. It’s almost 2014 and people still believe such shite.
Happy New Year, son.
Snow? Snow? Ain’t nobody seen the snow I’ve see. I ain’t afraid of no snow. I’ma smoke a big blunt of Sweet Dreamer and salt the driveway in my shorts. And by shorts I mean underwear. And by underwear. I mean I don’t wear any cause of the size of the snake.
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Y’all should go back a few links and check out Jacques Golden Globe awards 2013-style.
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Fuck Ryan Seacrest
LA is a shithole, just as is New York City for different reasons with different weather and populated by those chasing different dreams. The Big Apple is the aging movie star, or beauty queen, that nobody has the heart or the nerve to tell that their best days are behind them and things are going to get worse.
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Both states operate under the guise of providing for those who they claim cannot provide for themselves, by taking from those who do and giving just enough to keep those who do nothing in their place.
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The same politicians responsible for this slavery by government handout, facing fiscal disaster, now cry there is an inequality in income that must be addressed. So the politicians take more and keep more for themselves and their cronies, but nowhere does this “inequality” get more equal.
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In the coming crisis, there will be few people who will want to venture into New York City. For those of you who don’t know the names of those responsible, or don’t remember the mess that was New York City, when you envision what is coming think of the new New York as a combination of what you saw in the movies, “Death Wish,” “The Warriors,” and “Escape From New York,” but without Paul Kersey and Snake Pliskin.
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LA, on the other hand, will always have nice weather.
Yeah, we got snow up here in the Second City, and I firmly believe that the Midwest is where to find the bloated descendants of those pioneers who couldn’t stomach the journey out west and decided to make camp and stomach Polish sausage and cheese instead. But hey, I have fun mocking them just as much as the jerks on this site.
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+1 for any Pliskin reference, DW…
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Though the American dream is best encompassed by those with blind hope abandoning the intellectual evolution promised by the east coast and embarking towards the spotlight glow out Californee-way, it will inevitably be “flushed into the pacific bowl like the turd city it is.”
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R.I.P. Bill Hicks
Drill him in the ass. The ass, I says
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Fuck snow, accursed snow. Watch that Rose Parade Wednesday to witness us suffering in the 70 degree January chill…. Brrrfuck
The dog shit dries up and loses its stink more quickly in LA. Dog shit tv shows and feature films take about the same amount of time to recede from their cultural effluvia in both LA and NY.
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Meanwhile, I’m going to apply a mild SPF sun lotion and lay out by the pool today. Because I live in LA and there’s nothing better to do.
The American Dream is alive and well. In fact America’s politicians and captains of industry are hanging on to it for safekeeping.
People walk faster in NY. So it’s got that going for it. Despite being old world Eurobag cesspools, people in Paris and Rome know how how walk at brisk pace. They may not being going anywhere important, but they know that anywhere is important enough to cut the bullshit and just get there already. Not LA. It’s filled with fleabag meanderers and loiterers. There is no freakin worse indicator of urban decay… not even roving bands of genetically modified monekeys armed with rocket launchers.
I have frozen balls. And I like it. Call me Snake.
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I hope someday we can make it illegal for men with small hands to bodybuild. I think it looks really stupid to be a ball of muscle and have tiny, slim artist’s hands.
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By the way, Reverend: is your electricity back on yet?
yup, NYC is a shithole & Southern Cal is nothing like the sprawling orange groves of my youth…overrun with midwest & eastcoast cock roaches…I’d flee if not trapped by the constraints of my career…coastal South America is sweetly coaxing me with the lure of revolving 20 something girlfriends
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urban bliters