The other kind of fiction

Anyone else feel a kind of schadenfreude at the unmaking of a literary ingenue?

This chick at Harvard whose first novel, which was apparently really written by a literary packaging agency, contained nearly 30 separate passages which were either complete duplications or closely stolen approximation of the exact text of an earlier novel.

Seriously, there ought to be a shelf at Borders for 'stolen fiction'.

The Idiot Tax

No, not the lottery.

It's lunchtime on a Sunday and I'm having a sandwich while watching 'Growing Up Gotti.' Suddenly I have an idea.

Now, I'm not one to suffer petty jealousies. In this town, if you felt some form of envy everytime a Benz or Beemer passes you, you'd never want to get out of bed in the morning. But it does drive me nuts when those individuals of inherited wealth seem to forget that somewhere, sometime, someone actually worked to earn all that money so easily frittered away on trinkets and baubles.

So here's my solution.

If you are a recipient of inherited wealth, and you appear on a reality program of any kind (online, film, TV, mobile, etc) then every dollar over 25,000/year is taxed at 75%. If I have to watch anyone's kid make a complete fool of themselves in a shameless fashion (The Simple Life, Growing Up Gotti, that awful film on HBO a few years' back, etc) then someone should pay.

If money truly has no meaning, then let's test that theory to the limit.

M

LA Festival of Books

For those of you who suspect that the typical IQ (not to mention literary appeal)of the locals here is below average...shame on you. Yesterday I attended the LA Times Festival of Books at UCLA.

Some highlights:
- I heard Saul Williams read from his book of poems, 'The Dead Emcee Scrolls' and talk about why he used to hate white people (which was pretty rational, if you ask me, based on his tales)
- Attended a seminar on Hollywood History featuring several acclaimed historians and a few accredited screenwriters.
- Saw heaps of people line up to meet their favorite authors, some of whom were widely known, while others seemed to be writers in specific sub-genres...such as the table of authors who specialized in female food-oriented murder mysteries. ("Killer Pancake" and "Cherry Cheesecake of Death"....I kid you not)
- Joan Didion was there, but I did not attend...I tried to go see Ray Bradbury, who cancelled due to illness.

Yes, the Scientology folks were there offering free 'stress tests'. They all looked like professional grad students, the kind of folks who would have liked to take the 12-year plan (AKA 'livin the dream') but managed to graduate by accident. What kind of stress test could it be if all it does is suggest that you are haunted by the spirits of ancient dead aliens and need to fork over cash to have that fixed. Or maybe: Q: Will you go see Mission Impossible 3 next weekend? No? Why Not??? (On second thought, maybe they were from Paramount...)

There were also several model-types handing out fliers for a kabbalah class. No one I went to Hebrew School looked like that. No one I went to college with (at Jew U of the Northeast) looked like that. At most, there are maybe 3 people in Israel who look that good or better. As creepy as that seems (and as silly) at least the Jews are several steps ahead of the Hubbard crowd in marketing chops.

M

Rumors of my demise are....you get the idea

Apologies to my fans (all 12 of you) for the lack of current posting here. I feel guilty signing on while I'm at work (since these things are time stamped...god forbid someone I work with should read and enjoy them (how arrogant of me?)

Why is this night different from all other nights?

I know why!

Because instead of feasting on brisket, matzoh ball soup, and chopped liver at someone's (anyone's!) seder, I spent my 2nd night of passover on a cross-country red-eye flight which was struck by lightning and passed through 1,000 miles of turbulence, all the while seated in 14C, right beside the kid in 14A who crapped himself and his overweight and underdressed mother in 14B. Happy Passover everybody!

Where's the Seder at?

http://www.valpo.edu/geomet/pics/geo200/religion/jewish.gif

All these places, apparently...

The Potemkin Freeways

If I ever write a book (a non fiction account of the SoCal social order) this will be its' title. (all credit to someone else) It's catchy and it does generally represent the usefulness and futility of the area's roadways - when everyone is trying to go somewhere, no one gets anywhere, and besides, half of you driving somewhere don't really have anywhere to go!

Los Angeles to me seems to bear more than a passing resemblance to Sao Paolo, another teeming tropical metropolis. The higher you are in elevation, the wealthier (and safer) you are. Of course, the last time I went shopping in SP, there were more armed guards than customers and the woman next to me let her yorkie play in a pile of $1,000 sweaters - it was a lot more humble at the Beverly Center last time I checked.

The divide between haves and have-nots out here is still pretty staggering. Not that NYC lacks a sizeable population of overpaid jacka$$es (ahem, Wall St, not to mention the boldface names of Madison Ave), it's just that in NY people tend to mingle more closely than they do - especially on the subway, where a homeless guy could spend his commute within earshot of a Master of the Universe and no one would flinch.

Only in America can people turn the art of conservation into conspicuous consumption. I went shopping for a car the other weekend, and decided to be a good earthling and check out the Prius. (Drives nicely, I must say, for a car that runs on a 9V battery) But the demand out here to demonstrate obvious compassion for the environment means that Toyota can charge 15-20% ABOVE the sticker price for said vehicle.

Do the math - I could buy 2 x Corollas or 3 X Chevy Aveos (HAHAHAHAHAHA) for the same price, with 80% of the fuel efficiency. Listen, if "Pretty Woman" and "The Aviator" want to demonstrate their envronmental conscience, they should ride a bike. I think Mr Cynic, Larry David, exemplifies the logic (nee, sillyness) in this. His TV persona drives a hybrid. But in real life: a Lexus.

M

Lazy Monday

The most obvious difference between LA and NY:

In NY, busyness and productivity is a badge of honor. When someone asks you, "How are you?," the preferred response is, "Very busy." Meaning: I am important, I am significant, the world - let alone my employer - would cease to function without me, etcetera. Perhaps the saddest thing in the world, or in Manhattan at least, is to have nothing to do. People look at you like you have two heads, or cholera, or some kind of teenage regression fetish. Especially if you admit this on a weekday.

Cue scene somewhere in midtown on a Tuesday morning, busy busybody inquires of an acquaintance sitting in a Starbucks at 11:30am, "Doing anything today?" If the answer is "no, not much," then said questioner will frown, emote sympathy, and say something like, "well, things wil pick up." Quite simply, New Yorkers live to work. That's the pinnacle - a $1000 an hour lawyer too busy to remember his kids' names or a banker for whom time is quite literally money.

In LA, the equation here is much simpler. People live to play here, and for those who live inside the proverbial bubble of entertainment (myself not included, as I am a 'suit' on this plane of existence) the query is much more ecstatic and positive in it's delivery. "Doing anything today? Then let's hit the beach!"

M

Cat Shelter Update

I have since discovered that my neighbor has not one but two cats that she routinely leaves out all night and for days at a time. Second one is small and cute, and wears a rhinestone collar!?!?

There are a few reasons why I am hesitant to commit more fully to these kitties.

1. I don't want to become 'that guy'
2. Dog has not yet arrived from the east coast. When innocent and playful meets abandoned and posessing of claws, somehow I think claws wins.
3. My roommate/brother discovered, the hard way, he is allergic to cats.

Animals have souls (And that's coming from an atheist)

The post at barryrides.blogspot.com inspired me to share my own animal story. I recently got a dog myself, less than 2 years ago. Raisin, a Boston Terrier, is comical, loving, and very friendly. I wish all 2 year olds could be so sweet.

As the posters at the Vet's office remind you, having a pet is a very big responsibility -not something to be taken lightly.

Hence, my brother/roommate and I have partially adopted what we thought was a stray cat with a nice disposition and a very loud voice. We started to call her 'Alley' (as in alley-cat) and she would hang outside our apartment door, meowing at 120 Decibels during the evenings. Not wanting to become 'that guy' (aka the crazy cat lady from The Simpsons) I began to feed her on the front steps of the building, safely away from the front door. Yet the cat kept returning, so we started to feed her at the front door, and yes, eventually began to let her into the apartment.

The cat, upon feasting on some kibble (I have now made 2 pilgrimages to the cat food isle of the local Ralph's), would come into our apartment, wander around a bit, and then hop up on the couch and FALL ASLEEP! The poor kitty was just looking for a respite, somewhere to lay her weary head after a long day wandering the block and hunting rats in the basement. (We have seen her carrion)

It was only after a little while that we discovered why the cat kept hanging out beside our front door. She belongs to our next door neighbor, an alleged air-head stoner with no visible means of support yet drives a Lexus - and not a 1992 salvaged model, and cares not one wit that her cat was gone for days at a time!

What kind of an alleged miscreant would do that to a pet? The poor thing was out in the rain all day earlier this week.

Crash Trash

This is not a post about how good Brokeback Mountain is.

This is a post about how mediocre Crash is. Just watched it on Showtime. I haven't seen such dramatic interweaving of characters and subplots since the 'Venus Butterfly' business on LA Law. (Where is Jill Eikenberry and the hobbit-esque guy, anyways?)

I want my money back. And I watched it free on TV.

Bonfire of the Vanities

It's an amusing distraction here that so many folks have custom plates on their cars. Well, actually, it's probably a dangerous diversion since between the cup of coffee in one hand, a cell phone in another, and half your active brain cells trying to understand why any idiot would spend good money on something as erudite as 'BOBSTOY' it's a wonder you don't see people lose control of their cars skid off the road on a regular basis.

Seriously, 90% of the plates are about as witty as the annoying boss from Office Space, whose Porsche plates read 'MYPRCHE'. Another 9% are indecipherable. Leaving the 1% genuinely witty creation. I'll let you know when I find it.

Just the other day I drove past a beat-up coupe with 'PWR F LUV' plates. I would have figured Huey Lewis for a truck, but times are tough.