Dear Old Blue & Grey

Happy Birthday, Georgetown.
Swift Potomac's lovely daughter.
I can remember your Bicentennial like it was yesterday. Same day that Dali died in Figueres.

Had a truly weird and not-comfortable experience at the grand opening of Obama's HQ in the Valley last night. Kinda spooky dealing with overzealous strangers who patronize you and do high-pressure mind games. Bottomline: I'll phone bank when I want to. I'm still down with the BHO; but it was so utterly Scientology-like in there, that I could have been swayed by a kindly Huckabee supporter standing outside. My plan had been to buy some swag, since the junk I ordered hasn't arrived in the past 12 days. I knew there was a reason I got out of first-person politics. Bad form, Obama HQ.

Peace & Disco Beats

Comments

Unknown said…

You could always come over to the dark side... where at least what you see is what you get and not the Dr. J. converse, per se... er... something like that. Like Frank Caliendo intoned during the ads that are (were?) better than the shows, "Take me out to the ballgame."

7:00 PM, January 23, 2008

Murderous Haircut of the Mayor of Bel Air - Book Review

“The Murderous Haircut of the Mayor of Bel Air” is a trippy new mystery novel from Phillip Mottaz. It captures the grit and gilt of the City of Angels with the flair of a contemporary Raymond Chandler. The brisk pace and wit are reminiscent of Douglas Adams’s entries in the detective game. Flourishes of Fletch and “Medium” also spring to mind. However, Mottaz has added a psychic/mutant/superhuman touch and his own comedic voice, structure and internal monologues to the proceedings that help the author announce his own style and the arrival of a literary heroine for a new generation. Hairstylist and budding private investigator, Danica Luman is the perfect character to convey the irony, angst and sarcasm needed to tell a 21st century L.A. crime story. Danica also represents anyone who thought it would be neat to get tangled up in a mystery and the darkly comic cautionary tale that follows. The genre is recognizable, but Mottaz offers a fresh take on the not-ready-for-prime-time-hard-b

Hello, Dali! (Now with 50% More Photos)

Hola , Soul Mates, I'm feeling very jet lagged. Just got back from Espana . Catalunya and Andalucia to be more precise. I even learned Catalan ( jo parlo catala , amics ) and spoke it in broken fashion to amused natives. But wait, here's proof... It's me at the Dali Teatro - Museu in Figueres on Salvador's birthday. The place is more funhouse than museum. This objet d'art was hidden in a stairwell. I call it "The Crowned Peacock Dreams of Genie." Dali lived here. He's buried here. I'm being idiotic here. Genuflecting or posing? Felicitats , Salvador! It was his birthday and I was the only one celebrating. And yes, I did sing "Happy Birthday" to him. Another installation that defies explanation. But it's got a real crocodile and a real light bulb and artificial limbs involved. What's not to like? Seems like every town in Catalonia has some sort of memorial to John Lennon. This sign had fallen off (no, I did not keep it), s

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Norman's Rockwell

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