A somber anniversary

This week marked a difficult anniversary for Los Angeles — the 20th anniversary of the LA riots.

What do I remember?

I remember driving home from Hollywood and stopping at a stoplight only to be surrounded by very angry people wielding bats and other large blunt instruments. When I told them I was on their side, they let me go.

I was living with a now-ex-fiance at the time who came from a very religious (born again) family. He was funny, but trying waaaaay too hard to be the next Howard Stern. When his creepy, crispy Christian brother asked if Dan had found Jesus during the riots, his classic response was, “Yeah, I think I saw him looting an appliance store in South Central.” End of conversation.

Very funny line but he was gone by the end of May for many reasons.

The first evening of the riots, I went up to Mulholland Drive to watch the city burn. It was eerie and unbelievable. But what really made that trip totally LA was the fact that there were probably about 20 camera crews up there shooting stock footage for the inevitable MOWs that would be produced in the next few months/years. What made it even MORE LA is the LAPD did nothing to stop the filming. Ahhh…the needs of Hollywood trump social justice every damn time.

Life in the Valley was relatively normal during the riots. At least it was in my ‘hood. The LA basin was a  true hot mess. Television coverage was hypnotic and for the most part, the media did an ok job — with one exception: Bree Walker. She was working for the CBS affiliate here at the time and was at the anchor desk reporting about the live shots happening all over the city. The one in Koreatown stuck in my mind. The reporter in front of a mini-mall was giving a report as to what was happening when a shootout between a Korean business owner and rioters sprang up behind him, he dove for cover as the bullets flew and reporting the action along the way. Instead of asking if the reporter was okay, Bree asked, “Do you think those guns are registered?”

At that moment, I chopped off Dan’s head and threw it at the tee vee.

After Rodney King made his whacked-out plea, and the fires were put out and 53 people were killed, and not to mention the emotional and fiscal damage the riots had on the city, state and the psyche of Angelenos, not much changed for those who erupted in anger. Florence and Normandie is still old school and Reginald Denny forgave the folks who beat him within an inch of his life on national tee vee.

South Central is still wallowing in poverty and high unemployment.

Check out these stats courtesy of Mental Floss: From 1970 to 1990, the number of African-Americans living in suburbs jumped from 3.6 million to 10.2 million. However “black flight” contributed to an even greater concentration of poverty in central cities. The total number of African-Americans living in poverty in the ghettoes increased from 2.9 million in 1970 to 5.3 million in 1990, from 13 percent to 18 percent of the African-American population.

And, these numbers will continue to get worse each year. Having a black POTUS or more blacks in positions of power has helped a miniscule amount and bode well for the future, but ill-informed attitudes will be around forever, sadly.

I don’t know if LA has completely recovered from what happened 20 years ago. Sure, the burnt-out buildings are either rebuilt, painted over or gone forever. But the stench of what happened is still permeating this city, and that’s good. A little reminder never hurt anyone, but will it help?

 

 

News trough dump

Two weeks is long time between posts, but I’ve been busy dealing with my parole officer and other assorted goodies.

I have been paying attention, however.

Lucky for you mooks.

My plan now is to expand my job search because I haven’t had a lap dance in a long, long time and am in dire need of one. I’ve heard the Salvadoran lap dances are something to behold too. Just ask the fine folks who protect our POTUS.

From TPMMuckraker.

Report: Secret Service Had Salvadoran Sexcapade In 2011

Of course they did!

Secret Service agents partied at a strip club in El Salvador that the owner claims is frequented by DEA and FBI agents and some brought escorts back to their hotel ahead of President Barack Obama’s 2011 trip, according to a report from Seattle’s KIROTV, a CBS affiliate.

The news station spoke with an unnamed subcontractor who said he partied with about a dozen Secret Service agents at a strip club in San Salvador. He claimed that members of the Secret Service advance team paid for access to a VIP section of the club and were provided with sexual favors. At least two agents, the source claimed, had escorts check into their hotel rooms.

I bet the FMLN was bumming they weren’t around to join in. But to be fair, they were probably regrouping somewhere.

The owner of the club told the news station that a large number of agents “descended” on the club the week before Obama’s visit and said they were there at least three nights in a row. He claimed that U.S. embassy employees as well as FBI and DEA agents frequented his club.

The Secret Service isn’t responding directly to the new allegations but said they’ll look into any credible accusations.

“The recent investigation in Cartagena has generated several news stories that contain allegations by mostly unnamed sources,” Secret Service spokesman Brian Leary said in a statement to TPM. “Any information that is brought to our attention that can be assessed as credible will be followed up on in an appropriate manner.”

Some people have THE best jobs. The nice thing is, I am helping to pay their salaries so in a way, I’m living vicariously through my tax dollars. I hope my tax dollars find a way to Salvadoran sex show next, or pay for a blowie from a toothless whore behind the ‘hey Meeester Seeecret Service man, wanna hump-hump cheap cheap’ bar down the street.

NEXT.

White dudes are really quaking in their Dockers with this info.

From the Census Bureau. EDITED FOR SPACE.

2010 Census Shows Interracial and Interethnic Married Couples Grew by 28 Percent over Decade

GOOD. After all, this is what America is about, or is what it SHOULD be about. We’re a melting pot. Always have been. It’s never been a white country. EVER. Time for white folks to get over it or they’re the ones who are gonna be missing out. Yes, I’m white but I get it, see?

The U.S. Census Bureau today released a 2010 Census brief, Households and Families: 2010, that showed interracial or interethnic opposite-sex married couple households grew by 28 percent over the decade from 7 percent in 2000 to 10 percent in 2010. States with higher percentages of couples of a different race or Hispanic origin in 2010 were primarily located in the western and southwestern parts of the United States, along with Hawaii and Alaska.

     A higher percentage of unmarried partners were interracial or interethnic than married couples. Nationally, 10 percent of opposite-sex married couples had partners of a different race or Hispanic origin, compared with 18 percent of opposite-sex unmarried partners and 21 percent of same-sex unmarried partners.

Love knows no color. Simple as that.

Other findings ..

  • There was a 41 percent increase in unmarried partner households between 2000 and 2010. Opposite-sex unmarried partner households grew from 4.9 million in 2000 to 6.8 million in 2010. Same-sex unmarried partner households grew from 358,000 to 646,000 from 2000 to 2010, or from 0.3 percent of all households to 0.6 percent of all households.
  • Multigenerational households — households containing three or more parent-child generations — increased from 3.9 million in 2000 to 5.1 million in 2010. Nine percent of households in Hawaii were multigenerational households, which is the highest for the nation.
  • There were fewer households with people under the age of 18 living in them than in 2000. These households dropped from 36 percent in 2000 to 33 percent in 2010.
  • The percent of households with people 65 and older increased across the decade. In 2000, 23 percent of households included someone 65 and over, compared with 25 percent in 2010.

So, gay households are on the rise. And, the shitty economy has forced parents to live with their kids AND/OR kids to move back in with their parents — in Hawaii. Aloha! Here I come! Couple that with people living longer and you’ve got a loud, dysfunctional, nicely-appointed house overlooking Waialua Bay.

This is why Mike Myers sucks.

Unleashing “Wayne’s World” on us was the start, but then pointing out his wedding ring in a loud & obnoxious manner to a friend of mine after he sat next to her and she acknowledged him with just a head nod, just shows you how big of a festering choad he really is. Now everyone is going for their 15 minutes with this song. A little originality people! You ONLY have 15 minutes.

I dig Queen.

Always have, but this isn’t one of their better songs. Yes, it’s well known but that doesn’t make it GOOD. It’s overplayed. Waaay overplayed and that makes it suck out loud. Adding kids to the mix doesn’t make it cute or clever, it makes it pathetic. The kids are cute though.

How is this gonna work?

I’m a terrible perfume snob and while I like the idea of  the quest to create the bestest stank in a bottle ever, it won’t work on the tee vee. And with 3D polluting story lines, Smell-o-Vision is extreme.

Even John Waters tried it. Once.

(Attempted) Murder She Blocked

I dig Facebook. It’s no great secret. It’s fun, a monumental time-waster and a great tool for keeping up with old friends, finding new ones and for other assorted activities.

I especially like reading the comments under peoples’ status updates and posts. To me, the comments are similar to the letters to the editor sections of newspapers and magazines. You can learn a great deal about someone by their comment(s). Some make me laugh, some make think, then there is the rare comment that gives me pause. Why? I don’t really know. But, I end up reading the comment several times — maybe even walk away from it for a day or two, then reread it to see if I still gave a shit about it.

This particular one is the shit — and then some. I have no idea who this woman is, or if it even is a woman. I want full-safeties since I don’t want this fish coming back at me.

“I have blocked, defriended, etc. more people since the attempted murder incident than the entire time on FB. I literally got kicked out of my elementary school group b/c I defended myself against this alcoholic who said, “$***, I have contacted Dr. Marlena Evans of Days of Our Lives and she’ll be in touch soon.” Also, a gay guy – I love my gay friends and they want to track this dude down and make him use another gender identity term – was saying, “Well, I only know your side, not his…” (like anyone deserves to be stabbed). I said to all that he has PTSD and the VA did nothing. But a lot of people are blocking the hell out of people, so maybe everyone is going nuts…I’m not joining them, though.”

Discuss.

Forever pregnant

A few thoughts on Arizona’s brand, spankin’ new anti-choice law.

But first, a brief summary. Let’s see if I can get through this without wanting to gut myself with a Spork. I think I’ll let my pals at The Raw Story do it for me.

Jan Brewer signs abortion ban defining pregnancy before conception

You read that correctly, monkehs. According to Jan and her minions, all of us gals who are still dealing with menses are pregnant — right now.

Um ….

“Republican Arizona Gov. Jan Brewer on Thursday signed one of the most controversial and restrictive abortion bans in the country, which experts say effectively bans abortions after 18 weeks and declares that a woman could be pregnant 2 weeks before she even had sex.”

Oh holy fetus suction device, you’ve got to be kidding me. How Draconian must we get? And the GOP says there ain’t a war on women.

Of course, after ruminating about this for a titch, I had a few thoughts — with a little help from some friends.

Are maxi-pads and tampons considered baby blankets now?

If you say “Not tonight dear, I have a headache” are you, in effect, committing pre-meditated murder?

What about those folks who don’t believe in the Immaculate Conception?

If a woman is murdered, is the killer now responsible for two murders?

If you drink or take drugs at any time during your cycle (which is all the time) could you be locked up for endangering a fetus?

Eventually will new life start with a filthy thought? (if that was the case, I’d have a million chirrun running hither and yon)

Will there soon be anti-jackin’ it bills introduced in the Arizona Legislature to prevent male Arizonians from spilling their sacred seed? Can’t have one without the other, see.

What if you’re a eunuch? A castrato?

If you’ve had a hysterectomy, will you be considered a serial killer?

Will New Mexico now construct a large Abortion Plex near the Arizona/New Mexico border?

What about women who aren’t on the perfect 28-day cycle? How will they be ‘regulated’?

Will all stillbirths and miscarriages now be considered homicides?

Is cooking eggs now considered animal cruelty?

Is a douche now considered a weird kind of baby shower?

If you’re a post-menopausal woman, does that mean you’re eternally pregnant?

Knowing how Arizona feels about brown people, does this law apply to women of color too?

Does a uterine lining now get a social security number?

Finally …

Does the law really mean two weeks AFTER conception?

*thanks to Michael, Liza, Paul, Jennifer, Donald, Jeff, David B. et al. Big kisses!

Good head(ers)

Something must be happening in the news world because some of the headlines I’ve read have been top-notch, A+, guffaw-inducing. Or, editors are finally understanding the wonderful world of SEO.

Of course, the stories are worth a read too, but the real craft — the real stories — are the heds.

Ahem.

Courtesy of Yahoo.com

Angry ex-girlfriend goes ballistic, rips off man’s scrotum

See what the editor did there? Aces.

Let’er rip.

The rest of the story is balls too.

This next one, I don’t even need to read the rest of the story. From Mother Nature Network.

Rocker gets rabies shots after bat urinates in his eye

Torche guitarist Andrew Elstner shares his strange and informative experience on Facebook

 

If you feel the need to move onto the rest (but what’s the point?) of the story, you can here.

When I initially read this hed, I thought the Queen was adopting her new granddaughter in-law. Or, Kate Middleton is adopting the Queen. Or the Queen is pregnant is Kate Middleton. Huh. The main lesson here is never read a hed until after the Ambien fog has lifted.

From The Frisky.

Kate Middleton Forced To Get Pregnant As Adoption Won’t Work For The Queen

Oh, NOW I get it. Duh.

This next one isn’t the most compelling headline, but it’s just so damn cute!

From io9.

Picky hermit crab lives in a multicolored LEGO shell

I love that the hermit crab has been dubbed ‘picky’ when all he really did was want a bigger place to house his gigantic crab ass.

It’s a cute story, natch.

Of course there’s vidya of Harry the Hermit showing off his new digs to his jealous aquarium mates.

 

Cake baby

I just have to weigh in here. But first, I must preface this post with that fact I’ve written about such odd soon-to-be-parents & new parents behavior before.

This latest trend? I’m at a loss.

Well, not really.

From the NYT. God love ‘em.

(The text has been edited for space.)

A Boy or Girl? Cut the Cake

“THE house was filled with balloons and confetti, the chips and artichoke spinach dip were ready, and the guests, about 25 of them, were decked out in team colors, ready to cheer. Minutes before the party kicked off, they eagerly cast votes on the outcome.

But this festive gathering, held recently at the Miami home of Carolina and Carl Marrelli, was not a Super Bowl celebration. The decorations were all in very un-N.F.L. pinks and powder blues, and the sides involved were “Team Boy” and “Team Girl.”

“Team Boy” and “Team Girl”? Oh, this has got put-me-out-of-my-misery-with-a-pointed-stick-that’s-been-dipped-in-a-raging-festering-herpes-sore written all over it.

Joe and Ashley Brickner found out they are expecting a daughter.

“This was a gender-reveal party, during which expectant parents share the moment they discover their baby’s sex, unveiling results of the ultrasound test among loved ones (often replaying the moment later on Facebook or other social media). It’s the rare surprise party that people can give for themselves.

Until recently a little-known practice, the concept is quickly becoming a pre-parenting custom, a dress rehearsal of sorts — or sometimes a replacement — for the baby shower. In a culture where many expectant parents feel obligated to tweet their pregnancy announcement, live-post their ride to the hospital via Instagram, and Skype the baby’s first smile, it’s the latest example of one of parenthood’s formerly private moments becoming a matter of public consumption.

In the last year alone, the number of gender-reveal party discussion threads on BabyCenter — one of the most popular Web sites for new parents, with 11 million visitors a month — has rocketed to 282, from 28, a spokeswoman for the site said.”

With the meteoric rise in the popularity of social media, people now feel that everyone who inhabits this rock and has Twitter, Facebook, Fuckbook, Tumblr, Google+ et al accounts, needs to be privy to every single thought (including the most mundane), movement, reaction, dirty image, achievement, puppy & kitty image, vidyas of babies giggling/wretching, song choice et cetera, et cetera, at the very moment these events happen — no matter what. What’s even more disturbing is there is an audience for these events — a very large one, in fact. Some folks are friends with the poster, but if you tweet your personal life and you don’t have your settings set to private, millions of fellow Twittererersss will be privy to that twitpic of little Milo crowning through a hastily done episiotomy. Yummo. Why is this happening? Is it ego run amok?

Are expecting parents the new media whores?

“On YouTube, the first video of such an event dates from 2008. It shows the expecting parents simply opening a sealed envelope containing the ultrasound results before friends and family.”

YouTube shoulda seen the future and outlawed the future. Fuckers.

“A handful followed in 2009 and 2010. But in the last six months, more than 1,800 gender-reveal videos were uploaded onto the site.

Parents typically arrange for the ultrasound technician to withhold the gender finding from them. The technician places the information Oscars-style in an envelope, which the couple might then deliver to a baker, who whips up a pink or blue cake, covering the telltale color with frosting. The couple discover the gender when they cut the cake amid shrieking in-laws and fluttering confetti.

“It gave us more time to cry, laugh, scream and just be free to celebrate with all of our hearts, rather than to be in some dark room with a total stranger,” said Ms. Marrelli, 34, who live-streamed her results (boy) and the cheering throng in her home to dozens of other friends and family members around the country.

I find it so hard to believe that anyone outside of the immediate family (and even this is a stretch) gives a fiddler’s fart about the sex of the baby. Just tell them where to send the gift and maybe they’ll stop by for the first time at Junior’s 10th birthday. And the real reason the in-laws are shrieking? Because they know that they’ll be asked to babysit all the god-damn time and won’t be able to offer any parenting advice because new parents these days know EVERYTHING.

Again — fuckers.

“It was a way to get everyone involved, and you experience this huge payoff after all the building anticipation,” said Brett Grayson, 28, a high school social-studies teacher in Irving, Tex., who can be seen getting misty-eyed in the video of the celebration he posted on YouTube. “I’m normally not emotional, but when I saw the pink cake, it was like a flash of me teaching her to drive and marrying her off.”

Let me paint a different, more realistic picture of what your darling daughter will turn out to be. First,  the over-programming you and your wife will inevitably do in your wee daughter’s first few years of life will turn her into a bitter, resentful 10-year old. By the time she’s 12 she will have stolen three cars; spent time on the high school lacrosse team’s stank-ass mattress they keep in the equipment closet for such situations, and plotting the demise of the entire honors program. How do I know this? It’s science.

“Creative decorating tips for the parties have popped up on design blogs, and handmade knickknacks for gender-reveal parties are sold on Etsy shops (one seller offers pink and blue question-mark-shaped lollipops, 12 for $15).

Ashley (0f course) Brickner, a fashion marketing teacher and expectant mother in Virginia Beach, found out about the concept a few months ago, when she ran across ideas for festive décor on Pinterest.

So she and her husband, Joe, held their own party a few weeks ago. Since they each come from large families who live nearby, it just seemed natural, they said, to make this private moment public, particularly in an age when the family is likely to get updates on the baby’s development on Facebook.

You know, folks, you there isn’t a law that says you must tell every sordid detail about bebeh’s development on the Facebook. You can keep it to yourself and maybe do something a titch more productive like bullying your friends into having an over-the-top baby shower for you and 100 of your nearest and dearest. Just a thought.

“They’re going to be very much a big part of the baby’s life, so we thought it was just a cool way to incorporate them,” said Ms. Brickner, 28, whose cake was pink.”

Shit howdy, they just want the cake, not the expectations that come along with noshing on it.

“In rare cases, the gender-reveal party turns into a comic misfire, like the video of the Woodall party last year in Kentucky, at which it became clear the baker had given them the wrong cake: it was white inside. (“Epic fail!” a male voice booms in the background.)”  I bet he sued everyone in that bakery and put contracts out on the future children of the owners, the landlord’s family, the suppliers, the people who drive the supplies to the bakery, the people who breathe the air around and inside the bakery — you get the idea.

At increasingly popular parties, a baby’s gender is revealed via pink- or blue-colored cake.

Carl and Carolina Marrelli live-streamed their party.

Toni White

A pink shoe in the cake signified a girl is due.

“Donna Vela, who owns Little Angel Announcements, an online stationery store, said she began getting requests for gender-reveal party invitations about a year ago and now gets several orders a day.

“I think it goes with today’s Facebook generation that shares everything with everybody,” Ms. Vela said.

Indeed, Brooke Flatt, 24, sent out invitations on Facebook to the gender-reveal party she gave in February at Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst in New Jersey, where she lives with her husband, Airman First Class Bryan Flatt, 26.

“It was an excuse to throw a party,” said Ms. Flatt, who streamed the event live on Ustream for relatives in Mississippi. “We had cocktail food and I gave out cards for people to guess the weight, hair color and eye color for me to put in a scrapbook.”

The cake, which turned out to have pink icing between the layers, was decorated on the outside with bumblebees and the message: “What will it bee?”

Buddy Valastro, the host of the “Cake Boss” television show on TLC and the owner of Carlo’s Bake Shop in Hoboken, N.J., says that he makes several gender-reveal cakes a month, which cost $100 to $1,000.

“Some people go crazy and want something totally elaborate,” he said, such as multitiered cakes with startlingly lifelike fondant babies on top. “I think it’s a cool way for people to find out what they’re having.”

But Greg Allen, 44, a filmmaker in New York who also writes a blog for new fathers called daddytypes.com, said he found the trend baffling.

“Creating drama around your baby’s gender seems so staged and fake,” said Mr. Allen, who found out the sexes of both his children the comparatively old-fashioned way: with his wife in a sonogram examination room. “The whole connection of cutting into the cake to find out, like it’s a stand-in for the uterus, is sort of sickening.”

Oh, I just fell in love with this man. But, now I want some uterus cake. What’s that? Oh right. Fucker.

Kimberly Wageman, 37, of Richland, Wash., avoided this association by having guests at her gender-reveal party bite into cupcakes, which had dollops of blue icing inside. Her baby boy, now 6 months, was her third child.

I’m sorry — she had a party for her third pregnancy?

“The first one, we found out the sex when we had the ultrasound, the second we waited until she was born and the third we had a gender reveal,” said Ms. Wageman, a stay-at-home mom. “I couldn’t say which was best because they were all such unique experiences.”

I hope that someday these folks will consider not over-sharing to be a ‘unique experience.’