I would rather have seen the bushes. They were home to little birds and insects. They provided cover for stray cats. They were nicer to look at than just the cheap chain link fencing that looks like it would collapse after the first good wind. And we do get strong winds here! But since they didn’t fix the gate, why did they bother to break up everything on the lot, including a big, metal thing-a-magigy that needed medieval treatment to destroy? See video.
Any moron past the age of eight years should be able to navigate the gate. Step on the chain and hop through, or if you are a skinny tweeker, just squeeze right through. I am certain that homeless tweeker prostitutes will be finding a safe haven in our concrete garden any day now. Especially since the maid service came and cleaned everything up.
I like to call the hole in the ground next door, the concrete garden. It’s a play on the novel by Ian McEwan, The Cement Garden. It was later made into a movie. He never wrote anything very good after that first tour de force, but his books do sell, and win awards as well. The women in the video got rather violent after I turned off the camera. They began to break bottles against western wall of their hole. It is the wall that abuts our building, so it got loud in here where the non-homeless dwell. The contractors in the upper left hand of the screen did little to fix the gate. See for yourself. That picture was taken five minutes before it was just posted.
Doesn't look promising
Was that the best these guys could do? And they wanted to put a building up on that spot? My God! That thing would have tumbled, all five floors, right all over the Pointe (my building). These half-assed developers won’t rest until they buy up my building and the one next to it and the one across the street from us. We’re the last pieces of rental property that are governed by rent control regulations on this stretch of the Yucca Street cooridor.
The number of rent controlled units decrease every year, yet the L.A. Times published an op/ed piece last May that called for the end of rent control. Trust me Paul Habibi and Eric Sussman (who authored said op/ed) there are no high-priced lawyers living in my building. It’s composition is mainly immigrant families and young people starting up with their lives as grown ups. It also seems to provide student housing for the Musicians Institute. The developers are tearing down all the rent controlled units anyway, so your arguments are unwelcome. Why don’t you weigh in on another issue, such as Ayn Rand and how great she is? Paul Habibi is a real estate entrepreneur, according to Wikipedia. (It’s too easy) Eric Sussman lectures at UCLA. When he isn’t playing teacher, he’s “president of Amber Capital, Inc., a 15-person real estate investment company, which has acquired, rehabilitated, developed, and managed over 1,575,000 square feet of commercial real estate since its founding in 1993.” Just another fucking developer! L.A. Times is not unbiased. It is a tool of the real estate investors, in the grand tradition of old man Mulholland, who has a beautiful two-lane highway named after him. It’s hard not to think that everything is a fix. But that’s how they do things in Los Angeles.
The Jefferson Project is all finished and they’ve hung out their For Rent sign. At three thousand a pop, I wonder how fast they are renting apartments? Now they have twenty seven units set aside for people with low income. This is out of two hundred and seventy units- a measly ten percent. I wonder what the income requirements are for these units? Who decides who gets them? There are a lot of working poor families in this neighborhood. Will the recipients be from this neighborhood? I bet it’s a lottery system, and the only people who got invited to play were friends of the family, if you will- nudge, nudge, wink, wink.
So let us agree that the development company that owns this lot on the corner of Yucca Street and Las Palmas Avenue is irresponsible in the way it is conducting the disposition of said lot. They are not making it a secure site. Anyone can camp out there, and now they do. The people who camp on their lot are not nice people. They are mean, ugly and probably drug addicted people. Would you want them setting up shop in the concrete hole next door to your home?
After a five year battle against prostate cancer, Dan Avey passed away at Cedars Sinai hospital on August 15, 2010. He was a long-time Los Angeles radio personality and newscaster, in a thirty-year career that won him about the same number of awards, including 15 Golden Mikes. Avey began his radio career at KXLY in Spokane, Washington. During his radio career in Southern California, Avey primarily worked at KFWB, KFI and KABC as a reporter and anchor for news and sports. He also taught at USC and Cal State Northridge.
Avey spent 1966-68 in the Army and served in Vietnam as a member of the Green Berets.
In November 2001, KABC hired him to be paired with Ken Minyard in the morning. He continued on as KABC news anchor from noon to 6 p.m. during The Sean Hannity Show and the Larry Elder show. He is survived by his wife, Michele Davis-Avey and four children : Kim Clemens, Kristin Romano, Ally Avey and Jennifer Avey; as well as six grandchildren; and two brothers Mike and Tom.
Avey received his star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 2006. It is in front of the El Capitan Theater. Los Angeles King’s fans will surely note his loss come hockey season.
It should be noted that KFI is owned by Clear Channel Communications, a multi-million dollar conglomerate that owns more radio stations than any other entity in the United States of America. KFI is home to such personalities as Rush Limbaugh.
This obituary was compiled with the help of the Los Angeles Times and Wikipedia.
Existence is probably a better noun to use. The word life connotes a certain joy, a spark of hope, a glimpse of a dream, and at least a shred of dignity. But for the people who live in the Concrete Garden, there is only despair. In addition, for the people around them, there are daily confrontations with fear, vulgarity, hatred, dirtiness. The dream of Hollywood is a tiny diamond amongst a whole beach of plain sand. For the majority, some kind of life is put together – acting classes, camaraderie, the occasional part in a play in one of those tiny theaters on Santa Monica Blvd., or even a part in a commercial! Then there’s the waiting of tables, or being a barísta at a she-she coffee house. One out of thousands gets a lucky break, most just end up going back to school, others find niches all of their own – after all, actors are creative people and some of them are actually talented, at acting and other things as well. It’s a tough life, but as the saying states, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” The people you will meeting in today’s post aren’t tough. They are idiots.
Some of us Hollywoodlians, I daresay, the majority don’t even think about a career in the business, as it is called here in Los Angeles. These people just call Hollywood home. They live in crappy apartments; they live in really nice apartments; a few even live in just okay apartments. I’m a bit of a snob. I like being from Hollywood, despite the reputation that it has of flop-houses and crack heads. Sometimes the reputation is well earned, and tonight was one of those nights when the reality of the dangers of Hollywood hit home, too close to home for comfort.
I call this first video, “The party begins.” Earlier in the day, cops came and rousted two young men from the abandoned lot at the northwest corner of Yucca and Las Palmas. The night before a group of six (5 males and 1 girl) slept in the lot. There are mattresses and couches that provide ample sleeping accommodations for the none-too-picky. The two who remained were late sleepers, I guess, but they were told to shove off, and off they went. This is the whole pack returning. They know I’m recording them from up above, so they move their party furniture against the western wall of the lot in hopes of avoiding my camera. Nice try, idiots.
The block of Yucca between Las Palmas and Highland has been squirming under the heal of gentrification for three years now. Potholes that look like they were torn by ice glaciers work in concert with the loud noises of construction, and inconvenience of heavy machinery blocking access to everything, to create an atmosphere of fatalism. When will it be our turn to be forced to pack up and move out? In this next video, our revelers get out of hand. The footage is shocking and I’ve given it a PG-13 rating. The rating is for violence. At first the video is a bit unclear and shaky, but be patient and stick with it. You won’t be disappointed. The woman in the foreground is being restrained by two men and in the background, three men are fighting tooth and nail. The woman apparently wants to come to the assistance of somebody, but the other two men explain to her that it’s a “man thing” and she wouldn’t understand, and mustn’t intervene. Please allow me to clarify one thing. It’s not a “man thing.” It’s an “idiot’s thing.” You have to be an idiot to understand their behavior. A drunken, violent idiot at that.
Let me end this post with a few brief words. Of course it is the responsibility of the owner of this lot to secure it in a manner that keeps the riff-raff out. It is the duty of the police, on the other hand, to secure peace and the rule of law. How did they respond to this situation? Poorly, as usual. I called the 9-1-1 dispatcher twice about this situation. The first time, the person I spoke with said that there had been other calls and that units were on the way. I waited over ten minutes then called again. The second person said that nobody else but me had called (a lie). I know she was lying because she read me information that I never gave the first dispatcher that I spoke with. She asked me if I wanted to leave my name and number. I said, “NO!” Because of the last incident, when the cops treated me threateningly, but then I said, “I know you have that information already.” With a curt, “Fine!” she disconnected our conversation. One measly unit finally showed up. It was pitch dark which necessitated the use of flashlights. It looked to me as if they took the drunkest and/or most beat up of the bunch, set him underneath a tree and called an ambulance for him. Job done! Was anybody arrested for trespassing, assault, public intoxication, or anything at all? To my war weary eyes, the answer seems, “No.”
Getting that ad space ready - note that it will be an electric sign! blinky blinky
Once the new neighbors start meeting the old neighbors, sparks are gonna fly. This place will become mugger central because of its central location (several on ramps to the 101 within 2 minute’s drive). Also, these new units are all high-end. White Trash like me could never gain entré! The Jefferson Project is asking for $3,000 per month in rent. RENT! I don’t know how much the McCadden units are going for but it must be in the same neighborhood (forgive the pun) of the Hollywood and the Jefferson Project. By the way, the arrogant Hollywood is still trying to get 2.5 million dollars for their penthouse units. Look to The Hollyblog to give you full coverage of the emerging class warfare!
Editor’s note : The title of the last post, Only the Homeless are Free is an adaptation of a line in George Orwell’s novel 1984. One of Big Brother’s quotes is that “Only the animals and proles are free.” If you are still confused, then read the book.
Video reveals Hollywood police in action!
Another Editor’s note : Title of this post is a reference to the Cement Garden (1978) by Ian McEwan. Adapted into a film in 1993.
This morning I heard a man yelling insults, obscenities and threats at 8 o’clock. I looked out the window and saw a tall African-American man with a shopping cart full of stuff garbage bags, and a small Hispanic man who was walking his little doggy. The man with the shopping cart, who I assume is homeless, was extremely upset about the man’s dog, which probably weighed all of one pound. The poor man with the dog couldn’t understand fully why the homeless man was upset. He was just trying to walk his dog. Just then a police car pulled up to a stop sign and the man with the dog flagged them down. The rest is history.
Those silver bracelets!
Well of course the cops spent a lot of time keeping him in handcuffs, and calling the Wilcox Station to see if he had any outstanding warrants. He must have had some kind of I.D. or they would have detained him and taken him back to the station for a fingerprint check, or whatnot. I ran downstairs to give a witness statement. I told them what I saw. Did they write it down? No. Did they ask me for my name or address or any contact info in case they arrested the detainee? No. That’s because they already knew that they weren’t going to arrest him for assaulting the poor guy and his dog. Luckily a passerby was able to translate between the victim and the cop. It makes me sick what goes on in this city, this town of Hollywood. There really is much to say. After everybody left, the cops let the guy go. I took some other photos and pics, so here you go:
That will learn him!
¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ (below are videos)
Tammy Report
As you can mostly hear, but partly see, Tammy is never one keep her feelings bottled up inside. Maybe we can all learn from Tammy and start yelling “Fuck you!” at whomever we like. Oh, but I already know “people” like that. Today is one of those days when your Hollywood reporter-at-large wished the world would hurry up and run out of resources, that the last oil well will run dry. I want to be here, in the desert when it happens. But maybe that’s just the Tammy in me talking right now.
Even as I type, Zsa Zsa Gabor may be undergoing hip replacement surgery, according to her daughter, Constance Francesca Hilton. The 93-year-old actress broke her right hip Saturday after she fell out of bed while reaching for a ringing telephone at her Bel-Air home, said John Blanchette, Gabor’s publicist.
My question is, where was her lousy husband, the so-called Prince of Anhalt – a meaningless title? Why wasn’t he bedside? Was/IS there a home healthcare worker there to help Zsa Zsa with the tasks of daily living? When she was in a coma after her car accident in 1993, her husband sold pictures of her in this sad state to the German rag, Das Spiegel. The ones who bought the bogus Hitler diaries back in the long forgotten Eighties. Her husband, Freddy, found her supine on the floor and called an ambulance. I’m sure after he had a cigar and some cognac.
“My mother is not in critical condition or at death’s door,” said daughter Constance Francesca Hilton in a statement. She was on the phone in the hospital today while having lunch.” Zsa Zsa loves to chatter, doesn’t she? I wish she’d give me a call. I’d make an excellent personal assistant and treat her with the devotion that is her due.
Some may remember Gabor as a regular on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, as well as numerous game shows throughout the Sixties and Seventies. The last time I ever saw her on television was in the very early Nineties, just before her car accident, when she appeared on shock jock Howard Stern’s show. He tried all these secret camera tricks with Stuttering John and a midget in the Green Room. She was the very portrait of courtesy to them both, doing her best to take their direction before going on the air. I think even Howard was impressed. I know Stuttering John and the midget appreciated not being cussed out. When she got on the show, Stern tried to gross her out by displaying various sex toys to her. She knows how to handle men.
“Oh, Howvuhd!” She gushed in her heavy Hungarian accent. “You are zee most talented man on television! That’s the only reason I appeared on your show!” She then denounced Jay Leno (hooray) for calling her a Nazi. She referred to him as “that horrible man with that jaw!” She was right too. Jay Leno sucks.
Please click on the tiny image below. It will open up an hilarious YouTube video of Zsa Zsa making an appearance on David Letterman.
What’s the big deal? So they aren’t paying decent wages, maybe even paying illegal immigrants under the table to haul stuff away. Why is everybody getting their panties in a bunch? If it weren’t for unions, there would be no middle class in this country. Sweatshops would abound. Workers would be forced to labor for twelve or more hours at a time. There would be no OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration). Hell, there would be no Department of Labor, whose Secretary serves on the President’s Cabinet. The last effect Secretary of Labor that this country had was under Bill Clinton. His name? Robert Reich. He served under Bill Clinton and was one of his chief economic advisors. The reasons why Obama didn’t tap him for his administration is beyond my comprehension. Maybe he asked and Reich turned him down? He’d make a better Secretary of the Treasury than Geithner, who has proven himself to be a complete corporate shill. But maybe he is doing a good job by Obama, taking the heat for his misguided pro-corporate policies. So how did I get all the way from the Jefferson to here? Well, there used to be strong labor laws in this country, but under Uncle Ronnie, they were dismantled by Congress (with the help of the pro-right wing Supreme Court). Now, all we have left of the vestiges of a strong union mentality in this country is Labor Day. I wonder how many middle class Americans realize that they have a day off to barbecue thanks to the blood, sweat and tears of labor agitators from the Great Depression era. I wonder how many people know who Joe Hill was. (Joan Baez does a great version of the song, “I dreamed I saw Joe Hill last night.”)
If it weren’t for labor unions, there would be no middle-class today –Russell Smith
Guess how much a unit is going for at the Jefferson? Three thousand dollars a month, that’s how much! With that kind of money backing up this never-ending project, one would think that they would hire members of Carpenters Local 209 to help build this…thing. But no! Every penny counts in this rat-eat-rat world of ours. Back in the old days, the Union would have had a nice gang of thugs to beat the living shit out of these scabs who are stealing jobs from dues paying members of Carpenters Local 209. It is sick-making when one realizes that construction workers, REAL construction workers, are some of the hardest hit people here in L.A. in this Republican-created Depression.
Call 972-556-1700 to complain!
One last insult to the workers of Hollywood. I saw Spiderman getting a ticket for being Spiderman. The world really is turning into an Orwellian nightmare. Watch!
My blog is not about Tinseltown. It is about Hollywood the neighborhood. Families live alongside crackheads, bums, artists, musicians, homeless schizophrenics and just plain crazy characters (that would be me).
Recently resigned my position at USC as a Reference Librarian. Happily photographing Hollywood and beyond, while barely living on social se…duh...18 hours ago
