While some wacko pyromaniac was trying to burn Hollywood to the ground. I am still keeping an eye on the concrete hole outside my window. More than ever it has become a small encampment for homeless people, mostly youths. Check out the video of a few denizens smoking a bowl of who-knows-what.
I do not begrudge these unfortunate young people their right to indulge in a little marijuana cigarette to wake up and face the day. Nor do I begrudge them their choice of the lot next door for their encampment. Sometimes they get a little loud. One young lady in particular has the vocabulary of a sailor on leave combined with the volume of a drill sergeant. I’ve been tempted to ask her to keep it down, but it would be foolish of me to engage them in a negative manner. There is only one ending in that scenario. Me calling the police to clear out the whole encampment, which isn’t fair to the majority who are as quiet as church mice. Better to leave well enough alone. Wouldn’t you agree?
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On the northwest corner of Ivar and Hollywood, the Scientologists have their SeaOrg HQ. It’s a nondescript building, giving credence to the saying about the banality of evil. Here’s a picture of one of their viewing devices. Remember to smile and say “cheese,” if you are on the north sidewalk of Hollywood Blvd just west of Cahuenga. I got accosted for taking a picture of it years ago. It’s okay for them to look at you, but god forbid that you look at them while they are looking at you. Smile.
Remember to click on the image to get a better look at the photograph. AND then remember to hit the back button to get back to the blog. Sheesh! Why does everything have to be so complicated? I ask you.
Every Sunday to Thursday evening, they’re out there, pulling over scofflaws- people who run stop signs, exceed 25 mph in a residential area and drivers under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol (DUI). Hollywood, in case you haven’t heard, is a cesspool of homelessness, drugs, crime and tourists. They’ve opened up so many nightclubs that on the weekends it is DUI heaven up in here. And you can quote me on that. The cops don’t really enforce the law, so much as pick up the pieces of people who need some repairs, whether it’s their bodies, their cars or both. The sound of the ghetto birds cheers the heart all through the weekend, along with its close friend the siren-bird whose lilting dulcet sounds can be heard all over Hollywood every night of the week.
The whole thing started when this kid was playing music from his “device” very loudly so that it filled the whole train. I approached him very politely. I said, “Sir,” and he tossed me a baleful glance. “Sir,” I repeated and then I continued with “could you please turn your music down.” I did not react. I got closer to him and said, “I guess you didn’t realize I was talking to you. Could you please turn your music down?” Still he ignored me. I reminded him that playing your music loudly will garner you a $250 fine. He responded with, “What are you? The police?” I told him no, but I was a passenger on the train and his behavior was unacceptable. He ignored me. So then I sat down and recorded his handsome mug to share with the rest of you!
If you listen to people on the train, when the camera is down, he wields his plastic three-wheeled skateboard at me like he is going to hit me with it. You can hear and see some of the people on the train react with horror. “Put that away!” One man cries out in a tone that seems to mean business. I’m not the only one who is getting sick of these obnoxious fellow humans. It’s hard to conceptualize that the adolescent brain is shrinking, cutting synapses that are redundant, under utilized, what have you. Just like I was the first t.v. generation, these kids are the first X-box generation. They’ve been exposed to graphic violence, neglected by their parents, etc. It doesn’t lessen their responsibility for their behavior! I am radically pissed.
Look at this doofus punk. As soon as I turned off the camera, the doors to the train opened. Like a cowardly punk-ass bitch (as we say at our garden tea parties) he hits me with his plastic contraption. I forget that many other people have been raised by wolves. This S.O.B. drew blood when he hit me. That is unacceptable. Well, watch the video and enjoy! Remember the face. Beware. This kid is dangerous and crazy. Do not approach unless you are an officer of the law.
defensive wound
It baffles the mind how unsafe the subway system is. That would never happen in Washington, D.C. where I come from. Why? Because … I don’t know why, honestly. Part of the issue is me. I try to stamp out ASSHOLE-ISM where ever it may be. I’m not afraid of people younger than me, or older than me, or of any race or gender. Asshole-ism crosses every strata of society. I know I have an anger management problem, but it irks me that people sit silently and put up with the asshole-ism of the few. If decent folk stick together, then these arrogant, mean, stupid people won’t have the clout that their rotten behavior affords them.
I don’t know who these morons are. They were standing on the sidewalk (as you can see from the photos) but they objected when I took a picture of a couple of their signs. The second photo shows their leader trying to stop me from filming. They grew very agitated and couldn’t understand that because they were on the sidewalk with signs, then reason dictates that they wanted attention. I wished I’d been running my video camera, but alas. They were videotaping me, so perhaps the whole thing will be captured on YouTube for posterity anyway. Their low-budget frocks are almost endearing. They seemed very earnest and I would have been glad to hear what they think, but I’m Whitie, the blue-eyed Devil. Why can’t we all just get along?
I saw the man spit at a woman. The woman said he was hitting on her underage daughter and she was trying to make him go away. His unfortunate manner of retaliating against the cock-blocking mother was inappropriate to say the least. He nearly got his ass kicked by the whole neighborhood. What follows are entertaining footage and photographs of the event.
First the videos
Then come the photographs
Figure 1. Restraint
"I have been base." Mercedes, The Count of Monte Cristo, by Dumas
They like to pick on people. They don’t like to arrest people, or filling out police reports. If you can afford private security, then you are safe in Hollywood; otherwise, you are in constant danger of being mugged, harassed, or any other awful thing. People use drugs in public. Crack houses operate with impunity. I know because I’ve lived across the street from one for years. Below is a video that shows cops harassing bicycle riders, and then they jump on the videographer. It’s ugly.
There’s a cop who appears in both the video and this picture. I’ve taken his picture before and he has a problem with being photographed. I wonder why? I wonder how many crimes, large or small that he’s committed while “protecting and serving?” All of the cops from the Wilcox station seem to give off a creepy vibe. There used to be a few nice guys on the force, but I think they got reassigned. One cop told me that personnel was down. If that’s so, why does it take THREE cops to detain this poor fellow who looks like he weighs 98 pounds wet?
The reason this video is so important is that it brings up the issue of the characters and street performers on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. They work so hard, usually under a bright, hot sun. They take their roles seriously and usually just laugh it off when people rip them off. Rip them off? Yes! Tourists will snap their pictures and then scurry off without leaving the role-player a tip. That is egregious. These people have enough money to take a vacation. They should have enough dough to toss a buck at these men and woman. Sometimes I’ve even seen tourists pose and take snapshots of a street character, and then scurry off saying, “No English! No English!” Well, money is the universal language. Just rubbing your thumb against your fingertips indicates that money is in the equation of their interactions. Reason #1 for hating tourists – They rip-off street characters and street performers.
Here’s our second entry, file it under scary
I’ve made it one of my little causes to publish this video far and wide. The faces of the individuals involved are clear and that’s the whole point. Those two bullies should be locked up for a year or two for what they did. See for yourself. Reason #2 for hating tourists- They never know where they’re going. BUT that doesn’t give you the right to rough them up! The saddest part is that the old woman got out of the car thinking she was going to get directions from those two brutes. What a world. What a world.
That very evening, the miscreants with half a brain found (or returned) to our little corner of Hollywood to roost for the night. Smoking whatever it is that makes their boat float, they freaked when the maid service returned at the crack of dawn to sweep up the last little bits of detritus that they left in their wake. Showing about as much intellect as the cockroaches that they emulate, they decided that hiding behind concrete columns was the best approach to their perceived dilemma.
Peek-a-boo!
We see you!
Maybe we should spray the place with imiprothrin and cypermethrin? But there’s a problem- they’d probably just get high off the stuff. Why, oh why, don’t the owners fix the gate properly and invest in about $20 worth of razor wire to secure the lot? It can’t be in their interest (the owner’s interest) if these miscreants come in every night, leaving their excrement in one part of the lot, while they engage in sex (shudder at the thought) and other nefarious acts in another part of the lot. It’s too disgusting. Next thing you know, rats will be coming in their wake.
We have it on film
I had to trim about a minute in the beginning and the same for the end in order to give you just the interesting part, so to speak. These tweekers spend a lot of time just running their mouths. They were aware of my filming, so that act of pissing was for my edification. Like any good reporter, I pass it along to you.
Editor’s Note:
In case you haven’t noticed, starting with this post, and all future posts, I will sign all pictures with my name and remove embedding from the videos. It’s too much trouble for people simply to ask for permission, or give attribution, for other people’s work. I had an individual from France of all places, who stole one of my photographs of Snake of Eden for their lousy blog. The thief goes by the moniker, Lucky22 and the server is Students of the World. I’ve sent this individual two emails and I’ve even emailed the administrators of this blog service for help. So far, nothing. I may write to the French Consulate down on Olympic Avenue about this copyright infringement problem. The funny thing is that I was born in France and have always considered it my country away from U.S. Before President Sarkozy, I am certain I could claim French citizenship, as far as France was concerned. Now I’m not so sure. They’ve gotten even more xenophobic than ever, if that’s imaginable. Vive la France? I am not so sure anymore.
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 party begins
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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!
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!
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Good ol’ Hwood cops
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Tammy Report
morningtammyrpt
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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.
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).
