Mr Trail Safety Speaks!

A Prescription Course In Miracles requires proper offerings to assure a good outcome. Adventures In Doctor Land During my last physical, t he doctor unwittingly revealed a voodoo truth in the American psyche: the cure for death is always five years away from today. Tomorrow, it will be repeated all over again. In other words, don't do anything out of the ordinary, and you'll live forever.  I had no idea how much fun it was going to be.  It started with the Self-Assessment Form in the lobby. Sample questions included 'Are you/have you':  …smoke? …own a gun? …drink? how much? …are you beaten by your partner? …take drugs …unprotected sex? OK fine. I checked all that applied. Shortly I was called in, and was met by Sonia, a cute Latina. She was reading off the list doing follow-up, which were curve-balls. Since I was at bat, I gave it my all. Did you smoke? Hell yeah. Years ago. If it burned, I inhaled. Are you joking? Drugs? A very long time ...

Home-brew dub cassette art, 1990. July 16 is the late Deirdre's O'Donoghue's birthday. Deirdre hosted "SNAP" (an acronym for "Saturday Night Avante Pop") aired three nights a week on KCRW out of Santa Monica College, in Santa Monica, CA. This is my unabashed fanboy eulogy. Out of my own selfish memories of her, I revere Deirdre O'Donoghue's amazing forays and discoveries, I re-educated myself. No longer were the blighted wastelands of KROQ and Phil Collins to determine my landmarks. Yes, I date myself. But holy fuck-fire of art! Did not Deirdre bring amazing music to the ears of those who'd learned that she was passionate and engaged about what she played? And yes, I wasn't ready, but who is? Because if you're pushing, its always out past the comfort zone? Here's a short list of what she played: The Finn Brothers with their glorious a-capella rendering of "Throw Your Arms Around You" Mary Margaret O'Hara ...

"Which Way LA?" of KCRW in Santa Monica took time out from their busy audio-wallpaper environs to pose a Burning Question: Which is more LA? Eastside or Westside?  Since this is either deadly serious, or a frolicsome ratings stunt, people are gonna get hurt. Think of it as two fat, naked, bald men, slippery with salad oil, fighting over comb.  Already somebody's feeling left out. The Valley, for instance. Better luck next time.  So here are the original questions, with my M-80 answers attached. 1] Which is better, the Westside or the Eastside? Why? Eastside. I sojourned in the People's Republic of Santa Monica, summer of 86. Smug levels were already building. I lived for 28 yrs in the Melrose/Fairfax. Seven yrs ago I moved to the western slope of the Silver Lake Alps.   2] What is the boundary that separates the Westside from the Eastside?   Do you cross those boundaries? What are you willing to drive across town for? 405 ...

I was summoned for jury duty this past May. I showed up. And here's what transpired: -------------- Greetings, citizen! You'll be amused! amused! that my troll shirt, a pair of wrinkled trou, some beat-up shoes and 3.5 days of whiskers got me off jury duty. As we marched in, we were studied by both attorney teams. There was an abundance of sleek prosperity, poolside tans, expense account lunches. The shoes alone equalled many months rent where I live. The case: a 6 week donnybrook involving Mr & Mrs Mexican Plaintiff suing Toyota and the guy driving their FourRunner on New Year's Eve 2004, after it got hit by a Chevy Lumina. You know, the rolling beer-can. I pleaded Extreme Financial Hardship, [along with 7/8 of the jury panel]. We were recessed. Outside, I was talking to the guy sitting next to me. He'd plead the same. Only he was wearing D&G glasses, had designer jeans, shiny shoes and an oyster chunkette watch. I walked, he didn't. BTW: the costume sugges...

Sunset Junction Street Fair, a Gathering of the Hipsters. A full on heat-fest and scrum within a 10' tall chain-link fence and wildly overpriced water and food for the newly-hungry once the sun went down. There were an astonishing number of really cute/hot women and yes, my little woodchucks, MILFs galore. In the midst of the swarm were also girls who looked like they stepped straight outta 1979. The hair, the curves, the clothes, the look in the eye, and none of them were older than 23. There's a cosmic mystery to ponder. Now we are waiting for Morris Day and the Time. Me and 10,000 of my new best friends. Directly in front of us is a swan-necked, alabaster brunette beauty. She has a completely non-generic profile, ringlets, a sensuous mouth. My brain is squirming like the proverbial toad. And she is with a troll who knows that He Is Going To Get Very Lucky, Soon. I begin to notice that her skin is disfigured with utterly generic tattoos. A skull and crossbones. "Califor...