Back when I was younger and my family went on vacations to Disney World, I was always kind of amazed how smoothly the trips went. We went to the airport and bam, we had reservations confirmed on a flight. Then we flew and changed planes and landed right on time. And when we went to the rental car counter, we'd have a midsize car waiting for us and sometimes even got an upgrade, b/c my parents knew enough to use the free upgrade coupon. (rhymes with poopon not, qupon.) And during our weeklong stay we followed our schedule of going to the Magic Kingdom, Sea World, EPCOT, MGM and whatever else. And we always were able to sightsee random things, buy souvenirs and then get on our flight back to Buffalo and get back to our lives. It was always lots of fun and just seemed like there was soooo much that we did. How in the hell did my parents ever manage to orchestrate that? I always figured that I'd learn the magic answer when I "became an adult."
This past week, I realized how turning 30 and "becoming an adult" are not necessarily mutual progressions of time.
On Monday, Oct. 31 (two days after my 30th birthday) I got a call in the late morning from my boss telling me that my new Apple iBook G4 (on which I am typing right now) had been delievered at my office. Yay! I tell her that I'll be in the later afternoon to pick it up, after I run a bunch of errands. While I'm running the errands I noticed a thing with my car. I was sitting at a traffic light and when it turned green my car wasn't quite as responsive as normal. I pressed on the gas and my usually very sensitive pedal required me to push down further before my car started moving. I had been listening to the radio and sort of blew it off thinking that I might have imagined it. However, on the drive home from the grocery store it definitely happened again. I figure that I need to call Saturn to have my newly used car (I bought it a few months ago, it's a 2002 SL2) looked at.
I drop off my groceries and head to the office and the car does it's weird unresponsive gas pedal thing again. I'm not particularly happy, and I'm in fact scared in the way Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanze were scared about going to the mechanic way. If he tells me I need a new "Johnson rod" who am I to disagree? But when I get to the office and pick up my computer and see its image on the box, any fears of a tempermental car are swept away, at least until I start driving again. About one mile into my 6-mile drive home, the "service engine soon" light comes on. YIKES!
The car is still doing the pedal thing sporadically at stop lights, but fortunately is exhibiting no other problems with its operation. I get home and immediately call Saturn, before even opening my new computer. It's a Monday remember and they tell me that the soonest diagnostic appointment they can schedule for me is not until Thursday. (Side note: in a place the size of Los Angeles, you can't just drop off you car when you get an oil change and say, "Btw, I noticed a noise can you take a look?" that makes me miss Albany. you have to schedule diagnostic appointments, which are all-day affairs). So now I have to play the "umm, uhhh ..." game on the phone as I think out loud about whether I can afford to drive me car for two days with the light on. The woman on the phone says that there are like 1,000 reasons that light can go, 900 of which are totally OK to drive with for a few days, especially with my short commute. So i go ahead and schedule for Thursday and arrange the relay of rides to get me to and fro the dealership, which is like 15 miles away.
So I get back to playing with my computer and it's grand! I'm even having so much fun that the fact I just spent $1,400 on it and have an ???? amount coming on my car (at least a few hundred i suspect) isn't even a thought in my mind. I do take a quick break to read my car's owner's manual hoping for a magic bullet. It says that one reason the "service engine soon" light comes on is when the car is low on fuel and an air bubble sneaks in. I know I've got just a quarter tank, not really low, but certainly not high. I take a quick spin to the gas station to fill up, hoping against hope that well it'll be fixed, right? Well, I fill up but of course no dice. the Light stays on.
The next morning I am very wary when I start my car, but of course it's fine. And I notice that on my drive the car is driving smoothly, even at stop lights and stop signs. That's a good sign. About two miles into my drive, the light turns OFF!!! Perhaps i've been blessed by a miracle of magic bullet car repair. Should I start questioning my atheism? This should give you some idea as to how vulnerable I feel about my car. This is definitely one of the least manly moments of my life, confessing my extreme car wussness for the world to see.
So I resolve that if my car remains good to go for the rest of Tuesday and on the way into work Wednesday, I will call Saturn to cancel the diagnostic appointment and perhaps reschedule for a couple weeks later when I am due for an oil change. We're on deadline at work, so the idea of throwing this into my daily stress is just too much. Wednesday rolls around and things are peachy and I am now basking just in the glow of my new computer, which has a really nice monitor, which I look at a lot late at night when I would have usually been in bed before the new computer. And I'm not watching porn or downloading porn. I'm just staring at my desktop wallpaper.
http://www.thegreenhead.com/watercooler/2004/06/topic-domokuns-what-are-they.php
Fast forward (though if you've read this far, you'll realize that nothing moves fast when I write) to Friday evening. I'm driving to my colleague's opening at an art gallery and my car feels a little shakey. Like the drive is just not smooth and at one light the gas pedal thing feels like it might have just come back. Well, a friend calls me and after the quick conversation, I look at my dashboard and tada "Service Engine Soon." It's back. I call Saturn immediately since it's 6:45 and they're open until 7 p.m. But since it's Friday everyone in the service dept. has knocked off early and I'm cheerily invited to call back at 8 a.m. Saturday. The three miles to the gallery, my car exhibits the shakiestness of all in the past week. I'd provide a link to fear here, but they don't really have one that I have time to find.
Well, the gallery opening is fantastic. Cool art.
http://www.eyespyla.com/www/thebuzz.nsf/0/aad30e187e955870862570990012824b?OpenDocument
But on the way back to my apartment, well, more scariness. The car keeps being unsmooth. That's the scientific way to say "I'm afraid that I'm going to be told I need a new Johnson Rod and that said Johnson Rod will be very expensive."
[for those wondering when the fuck the gulliver reference will make sense, it's coming up. keep your shirts on]
So I get home from the art opening and decide to once again turn my attention to my computer. I love denial! Well, i figure that it's finally time to hook up my printer and test out Pages (Apple's version of MS Office, b/c I won't patronize Microsoft if I can help it. And there's no better way to stick it to the man than by buying software from another multi-billion-dollar corporation. Well, on this night I discover that I cannot print from the Internet, unless what you mean by print is getting all blank pages for every page you intend to print from say, latimes.com. ( I really wanted to print out Steve Lopez's series on homelessness in downtown Los Angeles.
http://www.latimes.com/news/columnists/la-me-lopez16oct16-series,1,7834819.special
And Pages, it's awesome, so as long as you never want to send a Pages document to anyone via e-mail. I spend several hours trying to fix these problems, but no dice. Then Sunday night I spend many more hours trying to fix all these things--printer and Pages. I download drivers (I even find the updated drivers for my three-year-old printer), uninstall software, reinstall new software, read manuals (well, skim them), pore through discussion groups.
Eventually the phone rings. It's my friend, Jon, from the 716. He asks how things are going and seems to be able to detect that I'm in a non-purrfect state of mind. I hit him with the litany: the car (which actually is worse b/c it was bad, then miraculously good, then stomach-punching worse), the computer, being on deadline at work, the money associated with the car and the computer, needing a haircut. blech. Any one of those things independently, no big deal. Even two of them, like just the computer and deadline, fine. But the car and the computer and the deadlines and everything else in life was just too much. I told my roommate that I felt like Gulliver being stabbed by the Lilliputians (well, the car was actually was like being stabbed by a lilliputian weilding a Cutco knife--i bought two of them and they're spectacular.)
Well, I can say that there was a mild resolution. I fixed the pages problem. I figured out how to export files into forms that can be attached to emails. Yay!
It's funny, as I dealt with all this I remembered a time I talked to my parents about the vacation planning thing and how at my age, they were already raising two kids. And they basically said that you draw on your past experiences and try to emulate your successful models and avoid the missteps of those you've seen who suck it. But basically, you're never prepared. Them parents sure is smarts.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Here I Am ... Rock me like a hurrica-ayne
So today's the beginning of my finally doing something to fucking publish myself. Since I'm too lazy to actually write anything that requires real work and editing, I'm going to do things blogstyle, at least hoping that this gets my writing bones back.
Mainly, if you get e-mails from me pretty regularly you'll see lots of redundancies with this blog and my e-mails, but this way it'll be archive-like. So if you cannot get enough of my greatest hits and can't find his collection on K-Tel.com then this page is for you to embrace your real inner nerd-dom.
Go boldly, though if you don't like me, just go.
Posts hopefully coming soon, especially once I get my new computer. ;)
Hasta la vista
Mike
Mainly, if you get e-mails from me pretty regularly you'll see lots of redundancies with this blog and my e-mails, but this way it'll be archive-like. So if you cannot get enough of my greatest hits and can't find his collection on K-Tel.com then this page is for you to embrace your real inner nerd-dom.
Go boldly, though if you don't like me, just go.
Posts hopefully coming soon, especially once I get my new computer. ;)
Hasta la vista
Mike
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Los Angeles has spit me out
The new place is in Culver City, about 3 miles east of where I used to live. Still very close to the beach about 5-6 miles away, so driving to the beach and rollerblading every Sunday morning still easy and convenient. I moved into a room in another guy's apartment. As i started looking and noticing that studios on the Westside of Los Angeles we're going for $900+ and one-bedrooms for at least a $1000 or even $1100, I realized that living alone in the neighborhood I wanted was prohibitive, esp. once I added in bills that would be all mine. So as i thougth more about it, I knew that neighborhood was more important than living alone (which was preference).
Then it was a craigslist adventure. I ended up searching for about 5 days. During the first four (Sunday 8/7 - Wednesday 8/10) I responded to about 10 "roommate wanted" ads and didn't get didly for a response. No e-mails, no calls, no hey-we-have-more-questions-for-yas. NOTHING. I was starting to fret a bit, because I had noticed that some of the ads Wednesday were reposts of ones I'd seen earlier (people just trying to make themselves first on the list again) meaning ones I had already passed on. Oh yeah, the big rub was that the night of Monday 8/8, my landlord brought two girls by to check out my apartment and they applied that night to move in. They loved it (of course they did, it's a great place). So the foot in my back about a moving deadline was very real.
Fast forward to Thursday 8/11. I have a strong morning. I call to make one arrangement to check out a place (three-bed, two-bath, which i'd share, but also moving in with a couple and some other roommate) that night at 7:30 p.m. Then I get an e-mail back about another ad. I'm checking them out Monday night at 7:30. Then in the afternoon I get another email. I plan a visit that night at 6:30 (i figure i'll hit the 7:30 after that).
Well, I go to the 6:30 and meet Andrew: 24, masters in harmonics from UT-Austin, who works as an engineer near downtown. He's very laid back, makes me feel very welcome, not that You'd-be-moving-into-my-place-and-have-a-room thing, but the it's-your-place-too thing. Like when i remarked that his living room walls were bare (like ours now) he said that he had shit, but was too lazy to put it up and that i should feel welcome to put some stuff up out there, too. that was cool. I also met his mom, she was in town because he just had had knee surgery and was helping him out around the house. I do spy an issue of Christian Singles magazine, so i realize that we're different, but he also told me stories about going to vegas and staying up all night, so we're not that different. In the end, we really click and it's like 8 p.m. and decide that the search is over. whew!
I leave, call the 7:30 people and belatedly cancel with them. get home and have a message from my landlord saying that they want to keep me as a tenant and they ask what they can do (it's nice to be wanted, especially after four days of rejection) and then another guys calls me on my cell to say he's interested in my response to his ad. when i tell this guy that i just found a place, he sounds genuinely happy for me that i get to leave the searching-for-an-apartment-in-LA fraternity. it sucks. but the move went smoothly.
So after i moved in though and signed the lease, I discovered the rub re:apartment. this place has had like 5 tenants in the last year-plus. and has never been emtpy in that time, it's always one leaving at a time. so the rental company doesn't get involved in deposits with that situation because they'd never get a chance to assess whether a place was completely back in pristine condition, so they leave it to the tenants moving in and out to keep that stuff on the up and up. well, when the place is finally emptied (i.e. both tenants move out together), then they have the apartment company's inspection team comes in and also the standard professional cleaning crew (painters, carpet dudes). the cleaning crew fees are deducted from final tenants' deposit, so the buck has been passed. basically, the set up kinda shivs the last tenants in the back a bit.
but given how cheap this place is for what we're getting, i don't really have a huge gripe with it in particular, more on principle. the cleaning crew typcially costs about $700, for an apartment that does NOT need major work--just the typical re-painting, fixing tiny nail holes in the walls, standard carpet steaming (not big stains, because those are extra). the guy i'm taking over from left a big stain and there are a few throughout, but shelley (scott's wife) lent me her steamer, so once i'm settled in, i am going to town on this place to get it up to snuff. so far, so good. it's not perfect, but there will be a huge improvement once i get this done. the cool thing, andrew is one board with whipping this place up into decent shape.
interesting other living potential drama. dave, a friend who helped me move, told me a few weeks ago that he's in a potentially weird spot living-wise. his current roommate has such bad credit that when they moved in to their place in june, he signed the lease alone b/c the apartment co. wouldn't approve her. she just pays him each month. she's a wannabe actress with a fiancee in chicago ((and an apartment). she works part-time at Express on the Third St. Promenade in Santa Monica and was thinking of quitting and moving back to chi-town. i told him if he gets stuck, i'll likely move in with him. she is prone to melodrama, he said, though.
btw, after moving in, andrew tells me that he's just a few days ago applied for a job in houston, which he had just found out about. this was about two weeks after we'd agreed to share his apartment. so while this threw me for a loop, i wasn't pissed or anything. i would never tell someone not to follow where their gut is leading them career-wise. and i know he wasn't leading me on or anything. he's gonna e-mail them this friday, if he hasn't heard anything. ideally, he said, they wouldn't want to hire him for six months. and also, he just had knee surgery and is on a rehab schedule through the end of the calendar year, which he's pretty intent on sticking with here in los angeles, b/c he wants the same doc throughout, which makes sense. he has heard from them and they told that until they sort out how katrina has affected their company they are in a holding pattern, so told him to touch base in a few months (meaning after the first of the year). my gut is that he'll likely
be moving in jan or feb, but we'll see. i'll jump off that bridge when i get there.
Then it was a craigslist adventure. I ended up searching for about 5 days. During the first four (Sunday 8/7 - Wednesday 8/10) I responded to about 10 "roommate wanted" ads and didn't get didly for a response. No e-mails, no calls, no hey-we-have-more-questions-for-yas. NOTHING. I was starting to fret a bit, because I had noticed that some of the ads Wednesday were reposts of ones I'd seen earlier (people just trying to make themselves first on the list again) meaning ones I had already passed on. Oh yeah, the big rub was that the night of Monday 8/8, my landlord brought two girls by to check out my apartment and they applied that night to move in. They loved it (of course they did, it's a great place). So the foot in my back about a moving deadline was very real.
Fast forward to Thursday 8/11. I have a strong morning. I call to make one arrangement to check out a place (three-bed, two-bath, which i'd share, but also moving in with a couple and some other roommate) that night at 7:30 p.m. Then I get an e-mail back about another ad. I'm checking them out Monday night at 7:30. Then in the afternoon I get another email. I plan a visit that night at 6:30 (i figure i'll hit the 7:30 after that).
Well, I go to the 6:30 and meet Andrew: 24, masters in harmonics from UT-Austin, who works as an engineer near downtown. He's very laid back, makes me feel very welcome, not that You'd-be-moving-into-my-place-and-have-a-room thing, but the it's-your-place-too thing. Like when i remarked that his living room walls were bare (like ours now) he said that he had shit, but was too lazy to put it up and that i should feel welcome to put some stuff up out there, too. that was cool. I also met his mom, she was in town because he just had had knee surgery and was helping him out around the house. I do spy an issue of Christian Singles magazine, so i realize that we're different, but he also told me stories about going to vegas and staying up all night, so we're not that different. In the end, we really click and it's like 8 p.m. and decide that the search is over. whew!
I leave, call the 7:30 people and belatedly cancel with them. get home and have a message from my landlord saying that they want to keep me as a tenant and they ask what they can do (it's nice to be wanted, especially after four days of rejection) and then another guys calls me on my cell to say he's interested in my response to his ad. when i tell this guy that i just found a place, he sounds genuinely happy for me that i get to leave the searching-for-an-apartment-in-LA fraternity. it sucks. but the move went smoothly.
So after i moved in though and signed the lease, I discovered the rub re:apartment. this place has had like 5 tenants in the last year-plus. and has never been emtpy in that time, it's always one leaving at a time. so the rental company doesn't get involved in deposits with that situation because they'd never get a chance to assess whether a place was completely back in pristine condition, so they leave it to the tenants moving in and out to keep that stuff on the up and up. well, when the place is finally emptied (i.e. both tenants move out together), then they have the apartment company's inspection team comes in and also the standard professional cleaning crew (painters, carpet dudes). the cleaning crew fees are deducted from final tenants' deposit, so the buck has been passed. basically, the set up kinda shivs the last tenants in the back a bit.
but given how cheap this place is for what we're getting, i don't really have a huge gripe with it in particular, more on principle. the cleaning crew typcially costs about $700, for an apartment that does NOT need major work--just the typical re-painting, fixing tiny nail holes in the walls, standard carpet steaming (not big stains, because those are extra). the guy i'm taking over from left a big stain and there are a few throughout, but shelley (scott's wife) lent me her steamer, so once i'm settled in, i am going to town on this place to get it up to snuff. so far, so good. it's not perfect, but there will be a huge improvement once i get this done. the cool thing, andrew is one board with whipping this place up into decent shape.
interesting other living potential drama. dave, a friend who helped me move, told me a few weeks ago that he's in a potentially weird spot living-wise. his current roommate has such bad credit that when they moved in to their place in june, he signed the lease alone b/c the apartment co. wouldn't approve her. she just pays him each month. she's a wannabe actress with a fiancee in chicago ((and an apartment). she works part-time at Express on the Third St. Promenade in Santa Monica and was thinking of quitting and moving back to chi-town. i told him if he gets stuck, i'll likely move in with him. she is prone to melodrama, he said, though.
btw, after moving in, andrew tells me that he's just a few days ago applied for a job in houston, which he had just found out about. this was about two weeks after we'd agreed to share his apartment. so while this threw me for a loop, i wasn't pissed or anything. i would never tell someone not to follow where their gut is leading them career-wise. and i know he wasn't leading me on or anything. he's gonna e-mail them this friday, if he hasn't heard anything. ideally, he said, they wouldn't want to hire him for six months. and also, he just had knee surgery and is on a rehab schedule through the end of the calendar year, which he's pretty intent on sticking with here in los angeles, b/c he wants the same doc throughout, which makes sense. he has heard from them and they told that until they sort out how katrina has affected their company they are in a holding pattern, so told him to touch base in a few months (meaning after the first of the year). my gut is that he'll likely
be moving in jan or feb, but we'll see. i'll jump off that bridge when i get there.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
From the Greatest Hits file: A bit about this blogger/How well do you know Agentslaeyer?
So here's what makes me really happy, really angry, and feel really really stupid.
Happiness
So I went to see Rilo Kiley Sunday night. And they were amazing. They had all the extra energy of a band finishing a tour in its hometown. but the best thing was the encore.
for the second song they brought out their friend "deborah" and said they were going to do one of her songs. i was sitting way in the back and could really not see much in detail other than that "deborah" was youngish looking and blonde. well then they started the intro to the song and it was very familiar, like "lost in your eyes" by Debbie, before she was Deborah, Gibson.
Since I unfortunately missed Deborah Gibson last Sunday at Pride Day in West Hollywood, this was the next best thing. I could not have imagined a cooler, more unexpected amazing thing to happen at a concert. i know that no concert ever will have a moment that eclipses Deborah Gibson playing Lost in your Eyes backed up by Rilo Kiley.
Anger
i went to my roommate's PhD hooding ceremony last week and one of the deans of the grad school really pissed me off. she started railing against the "media" and included newspapers in her rant about how "the media tells us more about michael jackson and not enough about what's going on in washington." it really got me chapped, because she lives in los angeles home of the Los Angeles Times a paper that actually covers Washington pretty damned well. And nytimes.com is free and so is washingtonpost.com. Could these papers be a lot better, sure they could, but she could do a lot better at her job, too, i'd bet.
i mean, she's right about television news, but it must be nice for her and all the professors and fucking morons in the audience who agreed with her to be so smugly taking cheap shots. any wonder why academics are hated only just below reporters.
Stupidity
I'm going to this wedding over Fourth of July weekend in Las Vegas. I booked my hotel reservations for Friday the 1st and Saturday the 2nd, since the wedding is on Saturday. Then last night I'm talking to Colleen M., the bride to be, and she asks what my schedule is. I tell her get in Friday and leave Sunday. She laughs and says "you can't leave Sunday, that's the wedding..." and then pauses ...
I'm waiting for her to say "just fucking with ya, it's saturday." meanwhile, she 's waiting for me to say "of course, just fucking with ya, i know it's sunday."
after about 30 seconds we both realize, that i'm an idiot. so now i have to fix this mess up.
Happiness
So I went to see Rilo Kiley Sunday night. And they were amazing. They had all the extra energy of a band finishing a tour in its hometown. but the best thing was the encore.
for the second song they brought out their friend "deborah" and said they were going to do one of her songs. i was sitting way in the back and could really not see much in detail other than that "deborah" was youngish looking and blonde. well then they started the intro to the song and it was very familiar, like "lost in your eyes" by Debbie, before she was Deborah, Gibson.
Since I unfortunately missed Deborah Gibson last Sunday at Pride Day in West Hollywood, this was the next best thing. I could not have imagined a cooler, more unexpected amazing thing to happen at a concert. i know that no concert ever will have a moment that eclipses Deborah Gibson playing Lost in your Eyes backed up by Rilo Kiley.
Anger
i went to my roommate's PhD hooding ceremony last week and one of the deans of the grad school really pissed me off. she started railing against the "media" and included newspapers in her rant about how "the media tells us more about michael jackson and not enough about what's going on in washington." it really got me chapped, because she lives in los angeles home of the Los Angeles Times a paper that actually covers Washington pretty damned well. And nytimes.com is free and so is washingtonpost.com. Could these papers be a lot better, sure they could, but she could do a lot better at her job, too, i'd bet.
i mean, she's right about television news, but it must be nice for her and all the professors and fucking morons in the audience who agreed with her to be so smugly taking cheap shots. any wonder why academics are hated only just below reporters.
Stupidity
I'm going to this wedding over Fourth of July weekend in Las Vegas. I booked my hotel reservations for Friday the 1st and Saturday the 2nd, since the wedding is on Saturday. Then last night I'm talking to Colleen M., the bride to be, and she asks what my schedule is. I tell her get in Friday and leave Sunday. She laughs and says "you can't leave Sunday, that's the wedding..." and then pauses ...
I'm waiting for her to say "just fucking with ya, it's saturday." meanwhile, she 's waiting for me to say "of course, just fucking with ya, i know it's sunday."
after about 30 seconds we both realize, that i'm an idiot. so now i have to fix this mess up.
Friday, March 18, 2005
Greatest Hits--Jury Duty ain't like Pauly Shore movies, thankfully
First the background on my first jury duty service from Jan. 2005 ...
It was two defendants accused of killing one young man, so actually we're conducting two trials simultaneously because with the exception of one piece of evidence all the other particulars are identical. The victim, Humberto G., was a senior at Morningside HS in Inglewood. He was killed May 31, 2003 after he was stabbed five times (four in the chest) by Antonio C. (one of the defendants) -- the defense stipulated to this. In fact, during jury selection all potential jurors were asked whether we agreed that sometimes people are justified in defending themselves -- so early on we knew that the defense attorneys would be mounting an "affirmative defense" (no dispute over the fact that the accused killed the victim, but claiming that the killing was justified).
The other defendant was a young man named Juan A., a friend of Antonio's that was with him the night of the killing. Both Calderon and Avila were charged with murder in the second degree, which is different from murder in the first because there was no advanced planning.
Opening arguments started on a Thursday, after three days of jury selection, and they were pretty boring. The prosecutor, Tracy L., took a long time with hers and she has the most annoying habit of shifting her weight while she stands about every 8 seconds. Go ahead, stand up and have someone watch you do that for a minute. It will have them laughing their asses off in about 40 seconds. So, this is opening statements and already i am foreseeing lots of trouble concentrating. Meanwhile she lays out her version of events....
Humberto G. and his best friend, Alex Negrete, are walking late at night on the way home from a party and they pass by a Jack in the Box and get jumped by Antonio, Juna (the defendants) and two other friends of theirs. Pretty soon the six total people break off into two separate fights of 2-against-1. Juan and Antonio against Humberto and Alex N. against the other two.
The defense attorneys have a slightly different version of events. They say that a carload of friends, Juan, Antonio and four others (the other two never engaged in the fighting), stopped at a Jack in the Box [I don't recall if a reason was given, and it doesn't matter because arguments are not evidence] and were minding their own business when Humberto and Alex decided to jump them. The defense attorneys said that they would show that there was a bad history between Alex and Humberto, football players, and Juan and Antonio, two smaller guys.
So off we go to the case, which didn't start until Friday morning (one thing about court in Los Angeles County, it's not the most efficient for a trial juror, but it does allow lots of time to get work done)....
The first witness is the prosecution's witness. It's Alex. He says that he and Humberto were leaving a party and walking to a cousin's house so that they could get a ride home. On the way there they passed a Jack in the Box and Humberto had been on a cell phone off and on. While at the Jack in the Box a car pulls up and four guys get out, one of them looks like he has a bat, and they rush them. They hesitate for a second then run away. Soon though, Humberto turns around and starts fighthing. Alex says that he wouldn't leave his boy hanging, so he goes to fight, too. Pretty quickly the end up pairing off into the separate groups and then shortly after that the cops get there. He and Humberto are thinking of leaving, since they didn't do anything wrong. The cops call them back over and then once they're up against the car, Humerto collapses and he dies a short time later. Once the defense attorney's get to crossexamine him, it gets argumentative as they keep trying to figure out some thing with an alley and why the stick found at the scene doesn't look anything like a bat. It was like a four-by-four, not round like a bat. Alex says that it was dark and it was a fast thing. He also says that once he showed the cops the crime scene that he saw what it really was.
Overall, he seemed to have a very skewed view of the truth, but i never got any sense he was lying, per se. just that the questionable reliability of an eye-witness seemed to be shining through here. his memory clearly portrayed he and humberto as beyond reproach in this incident, except that they should have kept running away rather than turn and fight.
His testimony basically takes the first day. The second day we get the testimony of Ericka M. She is the defendant Juan's girlfriend, but also apparently has a history with Humberto, the deceased. She testifies that she was driving Antonio, Juan and the others home when the check engine light turned on in her car so she pulled into the JackintheBox. She didn't even see Alex and Humberto. She said that Juan and Antonio and the rest of the guys passed around her cell phone and were talking to someone, but she didn't know who. She said that she didn't really see the altercations because she was not near them and it was dark. Bottom line, she corroborates Alex's testimony that there was a phone conversation. She also testified that someone told her to "pop the trunk."
The cops are up next. Btw, while i haven't exactly written a particularly dramatic email, i have done the favor of ignoring the dozens of objections. Let's put it this way, for those who've watched Law and Order and The Practice, the type of behavior that Sam Waterston's and Dylan McDermott's characters got away with -- the argumentativeness, the quasi-conversations -- wouldn't have flied in judge John Meigs courtroom. He runs a tight ship and the attorneys are up and down like jack in the boxes (no pun intended) objecting to everything. If it hadn't been a murder trial it would have been laughable.
Anyway, back to the cops. First it's the lead detective. He doesn't have much to say in terms of anything he saw, because he didn't see anything. Basically, his biggest purpose was that he interviewed Antonio and interviewed him on tape. So we listened to a conversation in which Antonio admits to stabbing and killing Humberto. He says "he lost it." The cop also said that there was no way Alex would have even been allowed to walk the cops around the crime scene. So then it's more cops and the coroner. Bottom line, Humberto was drunk at the time he was killed. They never tested Antonio's shirt to see whether Humberto's blood was on it and they didn't test the knife (murder weapon) that they found at the scene. Or if they did test it, the results weren't available at the trial.
The prosecution rests its case. At this point, i feel like the defendants are clearly guilty of something, murder or manslaughter, but i'm not sure which one. At this point the trial has been going on for several days and believe it or not, the jurors have done a pretty good job of keeping their mouths shut among each other. at least i think we have. instead they (i pretty much just read) end up talking about their love of john grisham books and movies and Nic Cage as an action hero. Um, yeah, these are your peers, America! i hope none of you ever end up in a jury trial.
The defense calls just one witness.... Antonio's brother, Daniel (who incidentally i had a dream about last night, and it's now like a month since the trial has concluded). Basically, he says that they went to JackintheBox to get something to eat, but they were closed. He also said that they go there a lot to eat, even kinda late, but they didn't know the place was closed. Daniel was a shitty witness. He somehow managed to have pretty detailed answers for every question from the defense attorneys, but when asked the same question from the prosecuting attorney he'd say he didn't remember. it was again something that would have been laughable had this not been a murder trial.
Then we got to closing arguments. If you're bored reading this, just remember, I had to freaking sit through all this. Closings were horribly long and we were again subjected to Tracy Lopez's shifting weight thing. Again, if you're feeling bored by this e-mail, stand up and start speaking at someone and shift your weight every 8 seconds... you're both guaranteed to be laughing within 40 seconds.
And now it's friday (7 days after the trial began) and we get the judge's instructions, which take two-plus hours and during which two jurors nodded off. and all of us were more or less baffled by the legalese. one of my favorite things about legalese, they love to define words with themselves. this made deliberations great fun.
deliberations.... we're in a 20 x 20 room with men's and women's bathrooms. we essentially are not allowed to leave except at designated breaks. we started with a quick mousketeer roll call, so we could call each other by name rather than just numbers. this dude scott volunteers to be jury foreman. he's mid 30s and a pretty important guy at his church and he cannot stand silence, so he always has to crack really bad jokes to fill silences, and has been doing that throughout the trial.
we read through the charges and definitions on murder 2 and review the judges instructions for Antonio only, based on that we vote. 5 guilty of murder 2nd, 4 non guilty of murder 2nd, three (including me) undecided. after reviewing the evidence though and the definitions of murder 2nd, which requires malice aforethought, which is essentially conscious disregard for life, it ends up 11 guilty and 1 not guilty. Our not guilty person says that given that this happened during a fight she cannot resolve the doubt she has as to whether the stab wounds were a "conscious disregard for life." She sees it as more heat of the moment, which is manslaughter. With no reliable eyewitnesses, we don't actually know how the fight happened.
The doubters, myself included, we ended up moving to Murder 2nd because of the number of stab wounds. with five wounds, four near the heart, to us this was enough to show some conscious intent to harm and it clearly demonstrated to us the "not caring" whether the guy who was stabbed lived or died. However, after a few hours of talking about this, she still wasn't convinced. End of deliberations on friday afternoon.
Monday starts with Scott wanting everyone's name and contact info because he's planning to write a book about his experience. he says it'll be half our rants and half commentary on the departure from jeffersonian ideals. he says we'll all get cuts from any future proceeds. Four of us don't sign, including me. I mean, I know everyone in Los Angeles is writing a screenplay or script or wanting to act, but this is fucking ridiculous. Well, after this discussion, it starts getting heated. People are really pressing her, imploring her to convince them of why she's right. It then starts getting raised voice argumentative. With people interrupting each other to take shots at her. I'm starting to get really embarrassed.... I work with teens for a living and granted we aren't discussing murder verdicts, but they're much better behaved.
At one point, the foreman, Scott, says that he should ask the bailiff to call in the alternate because she's being so stubborn. First off, illegal to do that, secondly, just really classless and bad form. at this point, a juror (bill) and i (we were generally the most cool customers in the room) can tell it's over in terms of us ever agreeing. that comment has pushed marissa (our lone holdout) over the edge temper wise. and then to make matters worse, scott throws the autopsy photos at her as if to say, how can you not find the guy guilty who made these wounds. seeing that were about one wrong look from marissa kicking scott's ass, i jump in. i start pointing out that the jury deliberation process isn't about us convincing one another of our points of view. it's about each of evaluating the evidence and interpreting the judge's instructions. and to respect the integrity of the process means each of us renders an independent position, that hopefully agree. so thankfully that serves to cool the room and we all realize that we're a hung jury on defendant number one.
defendant number 2 (i'll keep this really short). basically we're in disagreement again. in this case 10 in favor of just involuntary manslaughter (essentially because there was no way of knowing how involved juan avila was in this whole thing. he wasn't engaged in the fight and never touched the knife). but two were in favor of murder 2nd. i think that they were actually misinterpreting the law, but given the negative vibes in the room we weren't going to get over that. so we're hung on both. [side note, for each case we voted like four or five times].
so that's it. i know really long and not especially good writing. despite the negatives of much of the process, the boredom, the immaturity of my fellow jurors, the profiteering foreman, the ridiculous weight-shifting Assistant DA, the comically color coordinated defense attorney (her glasses matched her outfits every day, seriously, either the frames or the lens tint), it was a very compelling experience and one i'd repeat again when called. i am most glad that marissa never "caved" into the pressure even if i think she was wrong. the justice system has continued because it's far more important than any single verdict, it's about the process and watching it was like watching them make sausage, it's kinda ugly, but in the end you get something important and ultimately kinda satisfying.
So sorry this is soooo freaking long and not particularly exciting.
It was two defendants accused of killing one young man, so actually we're conducting two trials simultaneously because with the exception of one piece of evidence all the other particulars are identical. The victim, Humberto G., was a senior at Morningside HS in Inglewood. He was killed May 31, 2003 after he was stabbed five times (four in the chest) by Antonio C. (one of the defendants) -- the defense stipulated to this. In fact, during jury selection all potential jurors were asked whether we agreed that sometimes people are justified in defending themselves -- so early on we knew that the defense attorneys would be mounting an "affirmative defense" (no dispute over the fact that the accused killed the victim, but claiming that the killing was justified).
The other defendant was a young man named Juan A., a friend of Antonio's that was with him the night of the killing. Both Calderon and Avila were charged with murder in the second degree, which is different from murder in the first because there was no advanced planning.
Opening arguments started on a Thursday, after three days of jury selection, and they were pretty boring. The prosecutor, Tracy L., took a long time with hers and she has the most annoying habit of shifting her weight while she stands about every 8 seconds. Go ahead, stand up and have someone watch you do that for a minute. It will have them laughing their asses off in about 40 seconds. So, this is opening statements and already i am foreseeing lots of trouble concentrating. Meanwhile she lays out her version of events....
Humberto G. and his best friend, Alex Negrete, are walking late at night on the way home from a party and they pass by a Jack in the Box and get jumped by Antonio, Juna (the defendants) and two other friends of theirs. Pretty soon the six total people break off into two separate fights of 2-against-1. Juan and Antonio against Humberto and Alex N. against the other two.
The defense attorneys have a slightly different version of events. They say that a carload of friends, Juan, Antonio and four others (the other two never engaged in the fighting), stopped at a Jack in the Box [I don't recall if a reason was given, and it doesn't matter because arguments are not evidence] and were minding their own business when Humberto and Alex decided to jump them. The defense attorneys said that they would show that there was a bad history between Alex and Humberto, football players, and Juan and Antonio, two smaller guys.
So off we go to the case, which didn't start until Friday morning (one thing about court in Los Angeles County, it's not the most efficient for a trial juror, but it does allow lots of time to get work done)....
The first witness is the prosecution's witness. It's Alex. He says that he and Humberto were leaving a party and walking to a cousin's house so that they could get a ride home. On the way there they passed a Jack in the Box and Humberto had been on a cell phone off and on. While at the Jack in the Box a car pulls up and four guys get out, one of them looks like he has a bat, and they rush them. They hesitate for a second then run away. Soon though, Humberto turns around and starts fighthing. Alex says that he wouldn't leave his boy hanging, so he goes to fight, too. Pretty quickly the end up pairing off into the separate groups and then shortly after that the cops get there. He and Humberto are thinking of leaving, since they didn't do anything wrong. The cops call them back over and then once they're up against the car, Humerto collapses and he dies a short time later. Once the defense attorney's get to crossexamine him, it gets argumentative as they keep trying to figure out some thing with an alley and why the stick found at the scene doesn't look anything like a bat. It was like a four-by-four, not round like a bat. Alex says that it was dark and it was a fast thing. He also says that once he showed the cops the crime scene that he saw what it really was.
Overall, he seemed to have a very skewed view of the truth, but i never got any sense he was lying, per se. just that the questionable reliability of an eye-witness seemed to be shining through here. his memory clearly portrayed he and humberto as beyond reproach in this incident, except that they should have kept running away rather than turn and fight.
His testimony basically takes the first day. The second day we get the testimony of Ericka M. She is the defendant Juan's girlfriend, but also apparently has a history with Humberto, the deceased. She testifies that she was driving Antonio, Juan and the others home when the check engine light turned on in her car so she pulled into the JackintheBox. She didn't even see Alex and Humberto. She said that Juan and Antonio and the rest of the guys passed around her cell phone and were talking to someone, but she didn't know who. She said that she didn't really see the altercations because she was not near them and it was dark. Bottom line, she corroborates Alex's testimony that there was a phone conversation. She also testified that someone told her to "pop the trunk."
The cops are up next. Btw, while i haven't exactly written a particularly dramatic email, i have done the favor of ignoring the dozens of objections. Let's put it this way, for those who've watched Law and Order and The Practice, the type of behavior that Sam Waterston's and Dylan McDermott's characters got away with -- the argumentativeness, the quasi-conversations -- wouldn't have flied in judge John Meigs courtroom. He runs a tight ship and the attorneys are up and down like jack in the boxes (no pun intended) objecting to everything. If it hadn't been a murder trial it would have been laughable.
Anyway, back to the cops. First it's the lead detective. He doesn't have much to say in terms of anything he saw, because he didn't see anything. Basically, his biggest purpose was that he interviewed Antonio and interviewed him on tape. So we listened to a conversation in which Antonio admits to stabbing and killing Humberto. He says "he lost it." The cop also said that there was no way Alex would have even been allowed to walk the cops around the crime scene. So then it's more cops and the coroner. Bottom line, Humberto was drunk at the time he was killed. They never tested Antonio's shirt to see whether Humberto's blood was on it and they didn't test the knife (murder weapon) that they found at the scene. Or if they did test it, the results weren't available at the trial.
The prosecution rests its case. At this point, i feel like the defendants are clearly guilty of something, murder or manslaughter, but i'm not sure which one. At this point the trial has been going on for several days and believe it or not, the jurors have done a pretty good job of keeping their mouths shut among each other. at least i think we have. instead they (i pretty much just read) end up talking about their love of john grisham books and movies and Nic Cage as an action hero. Um, yeah, these are your peers, America! i hope none of you ever end up in a jury trial.
The defense calls just one witness.... Antonio's brother, Daniel (who incidentally i had a dream about last night, and it's now like a month since the trial has concluded). Basically, he says that they went to JackintheBox to get something to eat, but they were closed. He also said that they go there a lot to eat, even kinda late, but they didn't know the place was closed. Daniel was a shitty witness. He somehow managed to have pretty detailed answers for every question from the defense attorneys, but when asked the same question from the prosecuting attorney he'd say he didn't remember. it was again something that would have been laughable had this not been a murder trial.
Then we got to closing arguments. If you're bored reading this, just remember, I had to freaking sit through all this. Closings were horribly long and we were again subjected to Tracy Lopez's shifting weight thing. Again, if you're feeling bored by this e-mail, stand up and start speaking at someone and shift your weight every 8 seconds... you're both guaranteed to be laughing within 40 seconds.
And now it's friday (7 days after the trial began) and we get the judge's instructions, which take two-plus hours and during which two jurors nodded off. and all of us were more or less baffled by the legalese. one of my favorite things about legalese, they love to define words with themselves. this made deliberations great fun.
deliberations.... we're in a 20 x 20 room with men's and women's bathrooms. we essentially are not allowed to leave except at designated breaks. we started with a quick mousketeer roll call, so we could call each other by name rather than just numbers. this dude scott volunteers to be jury foreman. he's mid 30s and a pretty important guy at his church and he cannot stand silence, so he always has to crack really bad jokes to fill silences, and has been doing that throughout the trial.
we read through the charges and definitions on murder 2 and review the judges instructions for Antonio only, based on that we vote. 5 guilty of murder 2nd, 4 non guilty of murder 2nd, three (including me) undecided. after reviewing the evidence though and the definitions of murder 2nd, which requires malice aforethought, which is essentially conscious disregard for life, it ends up 11 guilty and 1 not guilty. Our not guilty person says that given that this happened during a fight she cannot resolve the doubt she has as to whether the stab wounds were a "conscious disregard for life." She sees it as more heat of the moment, which is manslaughter. With no reliable eyewitnesses, we don't actually know how the fight happened.
The doubters, myself included, we ended up moving to Murder 2nd because of the number of stab wounds. with five wounds, four near the heart, to us this was enough to show some conscious intent to harm and it clearly demonstrated to us the "not caring" whether the guy who was stabbed lived or died. However, after a few hours of talking about this, she still wasn't convinced. End of deliberations on friday afternoon.
Monday starts with Scott wanting everyone's name and contact info because he's planning to write a book about his experience. he says it'll be half our rants and half commentary on the departure from jeffersonian ideals. he says we'll all get cuts from any future proceeds. Four of us don't sign, including me. I mean, I know everyone in Los Angeles is writing a screenplay or script or wanting to act, but this is fucking ridiculous. Well, after this discussion, it starts getting heated. People are really pressing her, imploring her to convince them of why she's right. It then starts getting raised voice argumentative. With people interrupting each other to take shots at her. I'm starting to get really embarrassed.... I work with teens for a living and granted we aren't discussing murder verdicts, but they're much better behaved.
At one point, the foreman, Scott, says that he should ask the bailiff to call in the alternate because she's being so stubborn. First off, illegal to do that, secondly, just really classless and bad form. at this point, a juror (bill) and i (we were generally the most cool customers in the room) can tell it's over in terms of us ever agreeing. that comment has pushed marissa (our lone holdout) over the edge temper wise. and then to make matters worse, scott throws the autopsy photos at her as if to say, how can you not find the guy guilty who made these wounds. seeing that were about one wrong look from marissa kicking scott's ass, i jump in. i start pointing out that the jury deliberation process isn't about us convincing one another of our points of view. it's about each of evaluating the evidence and interpreting the judge's instructions. and to respect the integrity of the process means each of us renders an independent position, that hopefully agree. so thankfully that serves to cool the room and we all realize that we're a hung jury on defendant number one.
defendant number 2 (i'll keep this really short). basically we're in disagreement again. in this case 10 in favor of just involuntary manslaughter (essentially because there was no way of knowing how involved juan avila was in this whole thing. he wasn't engaged in the fight and never touched the knife). but two were in favor of murder 2nd. i think that they were actually misinterpreting the law, but given the negative vibes in the room we weren't going to get over that. so we're hung on both. [side note, for each case we voted like four or five times].
so that's it. i know really long and not especially good writing. despite the negatives of much of the process, the boredom, the immaturity of my fellow jurors, the profiteering foreman, the ridiculous weight-shifting Assistant DA, the comically color coordinated defense attorney (her glasses matched her outfits every day, seriously, either the frames or the lens tint), it was a very compelling experience and one i'd repeat again when called. i am most glad that marissa never "caved" into the pressure even if i think she was wrong. the justice system has continued because it's far more important than any single verdict, it's about the process and watching it was like watching them make sausage, it's kinda ugly, but in the end you get something important and ultimately kinda satisfying.
So sorry this is soooo freaking long and not particularly exciting.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Bright Eyes concert review--one of the best shows ever
Even in the last row of the Orpheum's balcony, hundreds of feet away and above Conor Oberst's head, I still felt like he was singing to me and just a few friends. With his lyrical gifts (especially evident on I'm Wide Awake It's Morning), and the intimate soundscape of "Wide Awake" he was able to overcome incomplete soundcheck, blech acoustics and even a drunk jackass fan (also in the ass of the theatre with me and my friend, dave) to give one of the best shows I've ever seen. [i've seen about 31 shows, give or take.]
The musical highlights of the show were:
Landlocked Blues, now my fave song off of Wide Awake. With all of his songs, and especially this and When the President..., Oberst is able to make is seem as though this is the last song he might ever perform. He gives so much of himself to each song. Yet, ironically, between songs he's funny and almost sheepish looking. The only thing missing live was Emmylou Harris.
Lua, which felt even more visceral in a live performance. This was one where he played solo with an acoustic guitar and the band left the stage.
Road to Joy. They ended with Road to Joy. This was very plugged in and devolved into a wall of sound that still maintained the melodic theme of the song. By this time the crowd was going insane, as much as possible for being seated. As an old guy, I liked the sitting, I must confess. One really cool thing that came through more live was the trumpet on this and several other songs. It was like when I saw Rachael Yamagata and the cello came through more.
Ultimate Highlight: When the President Talks to God. My friend Dave got up to go the bathroom and suddenly the band leaves. Then Oberst says: "This song is dedicated to our Arrogant, ignorant and mostly incompetent President." the crowd went ballistic. Then he proceeded to diatribe against the hypocritical devourer of freedom. It was amazing, and fortunately Dave had returned to his seat before the song started. When he heard the word "arrogant" he knew what song it was.
Glitches: the first song, We are nowhere and it's now, was a mess. It was like they didn't do the soundcheck. There was feedback everywhere and the lyrics were largely unintelligible. There were two times during the show when Oberst and the drummer seemed to be fighting each other on the beat. It was minute and most people I don't think heard it, but it was there. each time for about a five seconds. Last glitch, drunk dude. He would yell and scream between songs and a little during them. Fortunately he left like halfway through the show.
Bottom line the show was most amazing. He did everything on Wide Awake, at least I think he did. I wish he had done at least a few from Digital Ash, but not luck. Apparently he is going to do that at Coachella.
btw, sorry this review is kinda shitty. just not feeling the writing groove right now.
The musical highlights of the show were:
Landlocked Blues, now my fave song off of Wide Awake. With all of his songs, and especially this and When the President..., Oberst is able to make is seem as though this is the last song he might ever perform. He gives so much of himself to each song. Yet, ironically, between songs he's funny and almost sheepish looking. The only thing missing live was Emmylou Harris.
Lua, which felt even more visceral in a live performance. This was one where he played solo with an acoustic guitar and the band left the stage.
Road to Joy. They ended with Road to Joy. This was very plugged in and devolved into a wall of sound that still maintained the melodic theme of the song. By this time the crowd was going insane, as much as possible for being seated. As an old guy, I liked the sitting, I must confess. One really cool thing that came through more live was the trumpet on this and several other songs. It was like when I saw Rachael Yamagata and the cello came through more.
Ultimate Highlight: When the President Talks to God. My friend Dave got up to go the bathroom and suddenly the band leaves. Then Oberst says: "This song is dedicated to our Arrogant, ignorant and mostly incompetent President." the crowd went ballistic. Then he proceeded to diatribe against the hypocritical devourer of freedom. It was amazing, and fortunately Dave had returned to his seat before the song started. When he heard the word "arrogant" he knew what song it was.
Glitches: the first song, We are nowhere and it's now, was a mess. It was like they didn't do the soundcheck. There was feedback everywhere and the lyrics were largely unintelligible. There were two times during the show when Oberst and the drummer seemed to be fighting each other on the beat. It was minute and most people I don't think heard it, but it was there. each time for about a five seconds. Last glitch, drunk dude. He would yell and scream between songs and a little during them. Fortunately he left like halfway through the show.
Bottom line the show was most amazing. He did everything on Wide Awake, at least I think he did. I wish he had done at least a few from Digital Ash, but not luck. Apparently he is going to do that at Coachella.
btw, sorry this review is kinda shitty. just not feeling the writing groove right now.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Jury Duty opening day
So today is Monday, Jan. 31 and I've been answering the call of civic responsibility and undergoing to the jury process for the past week. Obviously, since it's been so long, I've been selected. I've been repeatedly "admonished" by the judge (the Honorable Judge Meigs) not to discuss anything, so all I can say is that it's a murder trial and that the real thing really is nothing like Law and Order. But more on that....
Here are some of the "highlights" of selection, which I have more freedom to write about....
Monday Jan. 24 8:40 a.m. I've been at the courthouse about 20 minutes and hanging out in the Jury Room since I got there. I've learned a few things. First, a jury room isn't any different from a restaurant or dry cleaners, celebrities send autographed hedshots for people to post on the wall -- in this case Kate Hudson. The other thing worth noting is that the jury clerk is "on break" even though the day hasn't started.
9:20 a.m. I'm glad I showed up on time because there aren't enough chairs for the 130 of us or so there. People are on the floor. Also, people start forming fast friendships with others in this similarly dreary situation or they're like me and burying their head in a mag/book while trying not to get roped into a conversation with the dude in the Members Only jacket who seems to be trying to get everyone in a conversation.
9:45 a.m. Jury Clerk starts giving us all general instructions about procedure and closes by saying that a sitting judge will come to speak to us about how we're fulfilling our civic duty and to further explain the state rules about one trial-one service regulation in california. basically, if you're not assigned to a courtroom today you are free of your jury obligation for at least a year. wooooo-hooooo, i naively think to myself. She says the judge will be here around 9:30 usually. We all point to the clock. (this type of time telling is a sign of things to come)
10:15ish The first 30 or so people are called and told to report to a courtroom. Not me. woooo-hooooo I think. Then the jury clerk lets us know that one of the four trials today will need at least 65 potential jurors. Suddenly I find myself getting more nervous.
11:40 a.m. I'm realizing that jury duty would be the best cure for illiteracy--people are reading Maeve Binchy, Gourmet Magazine, the newspaper, Deception Point, textbooks, More magazine. I am one of the 78 people called to report to Courthouse O for that trial. But since it's already close to noon we're given lunch early (at about 11:45) and told to report to that Courthouse O at 1:45 (so two hours). On my lunch break I head to the cafeteria in City Hall, which is across the street, and I notice that the special for every day that week will involve either beef or pork. That's not a good sign. I end up with a Twix lunch.
1:45 p.m. I report to the courtroom feeling good about my chances of being sent home. I figure that with so many people in the room, the odds of me being selected are pretty low, right? I notice the sign on the door to the courtroom reads: "No hats, shorts, tank tops, barefeet, sandals without socks, house slippers, rollers/curlers, food/drinks, gum, smoking, sleeping or shirt tails out." If they actually paid attention to those rules at least a third of the potential jurors would be denied admittance. Fortunately, for me, the scofflaws aren't discarded.
2:20 p.m. We enter the courtroom and all sit in chairs. I end up stuck next to B.O. guy. When you're crammed into courtroom audience seating, being next to B.O. guy is about as bad as it gets. Unless perhaps you're next to bad breath guy who cannot shut up.
2:22 p.m. The judge explains a few basics, tells that we cannot talk about stuff and estimates that this will be a 10-day trial. He also tells us that Los Angeles County is the busiest court system in the United States and that years ago they had a bingo drum (literally, it's still in the courtroom) that the used to randomly select people.
2:30 p.m. The lottery begins. I am not selected in the first group of 18. The jurors are asked a bunch of questions during screening about whether they've been convicted of crimes, are former crime victims, have friends/relatives in law enforcement. Many many people (about half at least) say that they've been a victim of violent crime or know someone who has in this first group. I feel horrible. Living in Los Angeles suddenly feels almost dangerous. (yes, i'm naive, and at this point, actually thought everyone was telling the truth. i hadn't realized some people wanted out of this way more than me and were likely willing to do way more than me to get out of it). So people are either eliminated quickly through the group questions or with individual questions or during the pre-emptory challenges that the attorneys can use.
Up until 4:30 p.m. we keep going through screening. I am not selected to sit up front in one of the 18 chairs (12 for jury and six for alternates. ultimately they'll choose 12 jurors and 2 alternates).
4:30 p.m. we're dismissed for the day. About half of us have been screened. 11 people remain upfront who have made it through group questioning, individual questioning and peremptories. I'm feeling good.
Next morning 10:30 reporting time, about 11 a.m. when we're actually seated.
They are about to read 7 more names, I have a pit in my stomach. I am not called. We screen out some more. And to my surprise some of the 11 who made it through the first round of peremptories are now discarded. I am feeling that pit in my stomach again. After lunch we go through numbers being called out a half dozen times or so, and I skate through each time. As I look around the audience though there are only about 20 of us left and still several open seats up there.
3 p.m.ish they call my number. They ask about my job and I am not immediately discarded. OK, maybe during peremptories. Eventually both sides say that they're happy with the jury as presently constituted, and I'm still sitting on it. We still need two alternates. There are just like 10 people left from our original 78. Eventually after calling 72 names, we have our 14 jurors, including me.
So that's the jury duty story as much as i can tell. Since then i've been on jury duty time, which basically means about 4 hours of actual testimony per day. ugh. we've gotten close in a way, but it's weird when a group of people cannot talk about the one thing they really have in common. so instead we talk about food, our jobs and in some cases previous jury experience. movies also come up, and this group of people really seems to think that john grisham and the movies based on his books are great. oh well. i keep my head buried in "the Devil in the White City." yeah, i'm still a snob.
------
Oh yeah, one last story, it's short, promise. I turned 29 last year and the day after my birthday one of my students says to me: "So, Mike, if you're only turning 29, how come you've lost so much hair."
worst thing anyone has ever said to me.
Here are some of the "highlights" of selection, which I have more freedom to write about....
Monday Jan. 24 8:40 a.m. I've been at the courthouse about 20 minutes and hanging out in the Jury Room since I got there. I've learned a few things. First, a jury room isn't any different from a restaurant or dry cleaners, celebrities send autographed hedshots for people to post on the wall -- in this case Kate Hudson. The other thing worth noting is that the jury clerk is "on break" even though the day hasn't started.
9:20 a.m. I'm glad I showed up on time because there aren't enough chairs for the 130 of us or so there. People are on the floor. Also, people start forming fast friendships with others in this similarly dreary situation or they're like me and burying their head in a mag/book while trying not to get roped into a conversation with the dude in the Members Only jacket who seems to be trying to get everyone in a conversation.
9:45 a.m. Jury Clerk starts giving us all general instructions about procedure and closes by saying that a sitting judge will come to speak to us about how we're fulfilling our civic duty and to further explain the state rules about one trial-one service regulation in california. basically, if you're not assigned to a courtroom today you are free of your jury obligation for at least a year. wooooo-hooooo, i naively think to myself. She says the judge will be here around 9:30 usually. We all point to the clock. (this type of time telling is a sign of things to come)
10:15ish The first 30 or so people are called and told to report to a courtroom. Not me. woooo-hooooo I think. Then the jury clerk lets us know that one of the four trials today will need at least 65 potential jurors. Suddenly I find myself getting more nervous.
11:40 a.m. I'm realizing that jury duty would be the best cure for illiteracy--people are reading Maeve Binchy, Gourmet Magazine, the newspaper, Deception Point, textbooks, More magazine. I am one of the 78 people called to report to Courthouse O for that trial. But since it's already close to noon we're given lunch early (at about 11:45) and told to report to that Courthouse O at 1:45 (so two hours). On my lunch break I head to the cafeteria in City Hall, which is across the street, and I notice that the special for every day that week will involve either beef or pork. That's not a good sign. I end up with a Twix lunch.
1:45 p.m. I report to the courtroom feeling good about my chances of being sent home. I figure that with so many people in the room, the odds of me being selected are pretty low, right? I notice the sign on the door to the courtroom reads: "No hats, shorts, tank tops, barefeet, sandals without socks, house slippers, rollers/curlers, food/drinks, gum, smoking, sleeping or shirt tails out." If they actually paid attention to those rules at least a third of the potential jurors would be denied admittance. Fortunately, for me, the scofflaws aren't discarded.
2:20 p.m. We enter the courtroom and all sit in chairs. I end up stuck next to B.O. guy. When you're crammed into courtroom audience seating, being next to B.O. guy is about as bad as it gets. Unless perhaps you're next to bad breath guy who cannot shut up.
2:22 p.m. The judge explains a few basics, tells that we cannot talk about stuff and estimates that this will be a 10-day trial. He also tells us that Los Angeles County is the busiest court system in the United States and that years ago they had a bingo drum (literally, it's still in the courtroom) that the used to randomly select people.
2:30 p.m. The lottery begins. I am not selected in the first group of 18. The jurors are asked a bunch of questions during screening about whether they've been convicted of crimes, are former crime victims, have friends/relatives in law enforcement. Many many people (about half at least) say that they've been a victim of violent crime or know someone who has in this first group. I feel horrible. Living in Los Angeles suddenly feels almost dangerous. (yes, i'm naive, and at this point, actually thought everyone was telling the truth. i hadn't realized some people wanted out of this way more than me and were likely willing to do way more than me to get out of it). So people are either eliminated quickly through the group questions or with individual questions or during the pre-emptory challenges that the attorneys can use.
Up until 4:30 p.m. we keep going through screening. I am not selected to sit up front in one of the 18 chairs (12 for jury and six for alternates. ultimately they'll choose 12 jurors and 2 alternates).
4:30 p.m. we're dismissed for the day. About half of us have been screened. 11 people remain upfront who have made it through group questioning, individual questioning and peremptories. I'm feeling good.
Next morning 10:30 reporting time, about 11 a.m. when we're actually seated.
They are about to read 7 more names, I have a pit in my stomach. I am not called. We screen out some more. And to my surprise some of the 11 who made it through the first round of peremptories are now discarded. I am feeling that pit in my stomach again. After lunch we go through numbers being called out a half dozen times or so, and I skate through each time. As I look around the audience though there are only about 20 of us left and still several open seats up there.
3 p.m.ish they call my number. They ask about my job and I am not immediately discarded. OK, maybe during peremptories. Eventually both sides say that they're happy with the jury as presently constituted, and I'm still sitting on it. We still need two alternates. There are just like 10 people left from our original 78. Eventually after calling 72 names, we have our 14 jurors, including me.
So that's the jury duty story as much as i can tell. Since then i've been on jury duty time, which basically means about 4 hours of actual testimony per day. ugh. we've gotten close in a way, but it's weird when a group of people cannot talk about the one thing they really have in common. so instead we talk about food, our jobs and in some cases previous jury experience. movies also come up, and this group of people really seems to think that john grisham and the movies based on his books are great. oh well. i keep my head buried in "the Devil in the White City." yeah, i'm still a snob.
------
Oh yeah, one last story, it's short, promise. I turned 29 last year and the day after my birthday one of my students says to me: "So, Mike, if you're only turning 29, how come you've lost so much hair."
worst thing anyone has ever said to me.
Friday, December 31, 2004
Happy New Year
This is part of an e-mail exchange between myself and one of my favorite students.
thx for passing that stuff along from your fellow classmates at the University of the Tree Mascot. very interesting dialogue y'alls have running. I am jealous to some extent. I miss those days, even if i didn't live them as actively engaged as you are. my friends in college didn't talk about stuff like that actually, but even without friends/associates talking about stuff like that, being in an environment where stuff like that could ferment was soooo stimulating.
as you know i'm a bleeding heart liberal and bernard left me hopeful that we'll win the good fight. and i think post election i'm realizing that it's OK to think of this in terms of winning losing. and i don;t mean that in a reaction to bush's with us or against rhetoric. i mean that we have to win the culture war.
we need to people to realize that Love, not gender, is the most important ingredient for a family and that Caring and Compassion don't care about chromosomes X and Y.
We need people to realize that courage isn't just holding to your convictions but admitting that one's convictions were wrong and that though one can rule from fear and the barrel of a gun, a legacy of peace and honor will come from a rule of power that comes from widsom, which comes from the mind.
that God may or may not exist and that in a secular democracy (which is what we are by law!) the right for each person to make that decision is more sacred than the right to believe in that possible entity.
We need people to realize that (to borrow the words from an american indian proverb) we do not inherit the world from our parents, we borrow it from our children. (my words now) and if we love our children as much as we profess to in bromidic greeting cards and whitney houston songs, then we'll take care of this fucking planet.
all right, i'll get the fuck off my fucking soap box right the fuck now.
your friend,
Mike
thx for passing that stuff along from your fellow classmates at the University of the Tree Mascot. very interesting dialogue y'alls have running. I am jealous to some extent. I miss those days, even if i didn't live them as actively engaged as you are. my friends in college didn't talk about stuff like that actually, but even without friends/associates talking about stuff like that, being in an environment where stuff like that could ferment was soooo stimulating.
as you know i'm a bleeding heart liberal and bernard left me hopeful that we'll win the good fight. and i think post election i'm realizing that it's OK to think of this in terms of winning losing. and i don;t mean that in a reaction to bush's with us or against rhetoric. i mean that we have to win the culture war.
we need to people to realize that Love, not gender, is the most important ingredient for a family and that Caring and Compassion don't care about chromosomes X and Y.
We need people to realize that courage isn't just holding to your convictions but admitting that one's convictions were wrong and that though one can rule from fear and the barrel of a gun, a legacy of peace and honor will come from a rule of power that comes from widsom, which comes from the mind.
that God may or may not exist and that in a secular democracy (which is what we are by law!) the right for each person to make that decision is more sacred than the right to believe in that possible entity.
We need people to realize that (to borrow the words from an american indian proverb) we do not inherit the world from our parents, we borrow it from our children. (my words now) and if we love our children as much as we profess to in bromidic greeting cards and whitney houston songs, then we'll take care of this fucking planet.
all right, i'll get the fuck off my fucking soap box right the fuck now.
your friend,
Mike
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
His name was Richard
On Monday, Aug. 30, during the afternoon I was doing my normal thing, just sitting on the couch and reading. It was kinda warm so I had the front door open to let in the cross breeze through the screen door. About 4:30ish I notice the silhouette of a guy milling around in front of the door down the hall from me. He seems to be knocking on that screen door. After another minute he approaches the door to my apartment.
"excuse me, have you seen the older gentleman who lives in this apartment. he's my grandfather," says the guy who appears to be about my age, maybe a little older.
"no, sorry, haven't seen him in a while." i replied. "Is something wrong?"
"well, no one has seen or heard from my grandfather in days. we've called but no one is answering and right now his door is locked," he says. "and what's the deal with these screen doors? how to they lock, because his is locked."
"well, they lock from the inside."
"wait, from the inside," he interrupts me.
"yeah," i said.
"and there's no way that they can lock from the outside?" he asks, his voice quickening.
"no, uh, sorry," i reply, starting to get a bad feeling.
The guy disappears and returns about 10-15 minutes later with two Los Angeles firefighters. I can overhear them asking him questions about his grandfather's health. the grandson explains that his grandfather is older and on several medications. Meanwhile, one firefighter is taking the screen door off its hinges, while the other is trying to enter the apartment through the window (which faces east and is right next to the walkway, which leans to the main area with the mailboxes in our apartment building). This firefighter makes his way into the apartment and emerges from the apartment, having unlocked the door.
The guy is immediately distraught, not hysterical or anything, but clearly they've discovered his grandfather and he's dead. After a couple minutes the firefighters start explaining the procedure of what's going to happen next -- the cops will come and he'll have some questions to answer. The grandson though is too broken up and he asks for a minute to gather himself and he leaves the apartment area and walks down to the street. I'm assuming at this point that they've unfortunately discovered that his grandfather has had like a heart attack or something.
I get on the phone and call scott (roommate) to let him know the bad news. i also call another friend. having something like this happen was something that provoked that human instinct to share with someone else, ya know? well, after those phone calls i start reading again. the door remains open -- i'll admit mostly out of a desire to know what's going on but also to let the grandson know that if he needs any help or whatever, that he can ask. however, he's not really anywhere to be seen, so i figure that he's making calls or something.
Soon after that -- it's probably around 5:30ish at this point -- i actually fall asleep reading. When I wake up about an hour later the scene has changed. There's yellow police tape stretching from my door to the door in the hallway (the tape forms the hypotenuse of the triangle). Essentially, i am taped in. I notice at least four uniformed police officers and a couple detectives in ties and a few black and whites (cop cars) in the street. It seems excessive, but i figure that they need to treat this as a crime scene initially. if they were to let people in there, like family, and stuff immediately and they moved stuff and then they found out something suspicious about the death, the cops would have a problem. they wouldn't be able to take back that mistake, so i figured that while this seemed more than necessary, i wasn't really questioning anything.
however, after another hour i've noticed that there are even more detectives there and more cars and more uniformed officers, too. at this point, while i haven't overheard anything from any cops that clearly indicated anything suspicious, i'm obviously thinking the worst. i'm wondering why no one has asked me anything, so when i overhear a detective asking someone who removed the screen door, i volunteer that it was the firefighter. the detective thx me, but that's it. i leave my door open and then go back to reading. i also call scott and give him a head's up and let him know that he should probably stay on campus later tonight, b/c it doesn't look like the cops are letting people in and out of the building. maybe an hour later (some time between 7:30 and 8 p.m.) they do let someone out. My upstairs neighbor is allowed to go to his tae kwon doe class, he's instructed to press his body against the wall opposite the doorway so as not to interfere with anything.
by 8:15 p.m. scott shows up and he's told that he's gotta stay outside. i'm still in the apartment. no one has asked me anything, and i haven't actually heard anything. the cops seem really busy so i don't want to interrupt. scott calls again and says he's considering heading up to his girlfriend's monday night. he has groceries in his car and doesn't want them to spoil. however, over the course of the next hour he's talking to our landlord who's out there, too and other onlookers. he calls and says that the word on the street is that the man was shot. the cops are examining the screen outside the window, which faces the street. this is the first i've heard of anything like that. in the meantime, the county coroner has shown up, bringing the number of people on the scene to what must be at least 20. scott confirms my total from his observations made from the street below. (the first floor of apartments is actually the second floor of the building). the people from the coroner's office are taking lots of pix. still no firm idea on what's going on and no sign of the family, either. i'm assuming that they're taking care of their arrangements and are no longer needed on the scene.
by around 9:30 p.m. they start wrapping their investigation and letting the tenants into the building. scott says that our neighbor was shot based on what he's learned. a few minutes after scott came in a detective comes into our apartment and asks us if we've heard or seen anything weird or unusual in the last week that might help explain our neighbor's death. scott and i are both shocked. we, unfortunately, have nothing to offer in terms of a lead. i had been out of town until late tuesday night and been working each day.
suddenly i became the person i had interviewed all those times i had to cover murders and traffic fatalities, who could say only that the person was quiet and that they didn't know him/her very well. our neighbor had only moved in about two months ago, and i had only seen him literally a handful of times. he was an older man whose door was always closed when i got home from work, so i wasn't going to disturb him or anything. the cop takes our phone numbers and asks us to call him if we can think of anything that might help in the investigation. the cops leave and take the screen doors with them.
shortly after that our other neighbors, andy and tatiana, came by. they also didn't know anything, but tatiana at least knew our neighbor's name. he was frank and he was very easy to talk to, she said. suddenly all the questions that i could have asked the detective... that i should have asked the detective.... that i would have asked the detective had i been a reporter covering this in albany flooded me. what was his name? what do think happened? when did this happen? do you think it was planned or random?
after tatiana and andy stopped by they later convened outside with scott and our upstairs neighbors, including the guy returning from tae kwon doe class. scott learns that he saw frank's body as he was leaving the apartment. tatiana had heard from a cop while waiting outside that they think it was random. scott is naturally disturbed by what happened and says he would think about moving. i am trying to figure out how a bullet could come up from the street and kill a man in his apartment if it was random. it would have had to have been such a remote chance of it coming up from what would have been a minimum 50 feet away and then strike the body in a place that would be fatal. at this weird inclined angle. i doesn't make sense.
i'm saddened obviously, but apparently not as troubled as scott. we live in a decent neighborhood with lots of families, an elem school within walking distance and as safe as pretty much any neighborhood i could afford in los angeles. this was just a sad random act that claimed a nice man named, frank.
a day later, i'm still sad, though unsure of what to do. unfortunately, and in this case i hate L.A., it's too big here to learn much. the LA Times doesn't cover stories like this -- they're too common -- at least not in depth. and there is no smaller paper devoted to stuff like this either. so hopefully i'll find out more about frank.
worry not about me though, i'm fine. just take a moment though and try to remember to reach out to strangers.
"excuse me, have you seen the older gentleman who lives in this apartment. he's my grandfather," says the guy who appears to be about my age, maybe a little older.
"no, sorry, haven't seen him in a while." i replied. "Is something wrong?"
"well, no one has seen or heard from my grandfather in days. we've called but no one is answering and right now his door is locked," he says. "and what's the deal with these screen doors? how to they lock, because his is locked."
"well, they lock from the inside."
"wait, from the inside," he interrupts me.
"yeah," i said.
"and there's no way that they can lock from the outside?" he asks, his voice quickening.
"no, uh, sorry," i reply, starting to get a bad feeling.
The guy disappears and returns about 10-15 minutes later with two Los Angeles firefighters. I can overhear them asking him questions about his grandfather's health. the grandson explains that his grandfather is older and on several medications. Meanwhile, one firefighter is taking the screen door off its hinges, while the other is trying to enter the apartment through the window (which faces east and is right next to the walkway, which leans to the main area with the mailboxes in our apartment building). This firefighter makes his way into the apartment and emerges from the apartment, having unlocked the door.
The guy is immediately distraught, not hysterical or anything, but clearly they've discovered his grandfather and he's dead. After a couple minutes the firefighters start explaining the procedure of what's going to happen next -- the cops will come and he'll have some questions to answer. The grandson though is too broken up and he asks for a minute to gather himself and he leaves the apartment area and walks down to the street. I'm assuming at this point that they've unfortunately discovered that his grandfather has had like a heart attack or something.
I get on the phone and call scott (roommate) to let him know the bad news. i also call another friend. having something like this happen was something that provoked that human instinct to share with someone else, ya know? well, after those phone calls i start reading again. the door remains open -- i'll admit mostly out of a desire to know what's going on but also to let the grandson know that if he needs any help or whatever, that he can ask. however, he's not really anywhere to be seen, so i figure that he's making calls or something.
Soon after that -- it's probably around 5:30ish at this point -- i actually fall asleep reading. When I wake up about an hour later the scene has changed. There's yellow police tape stretching from my door to the door in the hallway (the tape forms the hypotenuse of the triangle). Essentially, i am taped in. I notice at least four uniformed police officers and a couple detectives in ties and a few black and whites (cop cars) in the street. It seems excessive, but i figure that they need to treat this as a crime scene initially. if they were to let people in there, like family, and stuff immediately and they moved stuff and then they found out something suspicious about the death, the cops would have a problem. they wouldn't be able to take back that mistake, so i figured that while this seemed more than necessary, i wasn't really questioning anything.
however, after another hour i've noticed that there are even more detectives there and more cars and more uniformed officers, too. at this point, while i haven't overheard anything from any cops that clearly indicated anything suspicious, i'm obviously thinking the worst. i'm wondering why no one has asked me anything, so when i overhear a detective asking someone who removed the screen door, i volunteer that it was the firefighter. the detective thx me, but that's it. i leave my door open and then go back to reading. i also call scott and give him a head's up and let him know that he should probably stay on campus later tonight, b/c it doesn't look like the cops are letting people in and out of the building. maybe an hour later (some time between 7:30 and 8 p.m.) they do let someone out. My upstairs neighbor is allowed to go to his tae kwon doe class, he's instructed to press his body against the wall opposite the doorway so as not to interfere with anything.
by 8:15 p.m. scott shows up and he's told that he's gotta stay outside. i'm still in the apartment. no one has asked me anything, and i haven't actually heard anything. the cops seem really busy so i don't want to interrupt. scott calls again and says he's considering heading up to his girlfriend's monday night. he has groceries in his car and doesn't want them to spoil. however, over the course of the next hour he's talking to our landlord who's out there, too and other onlookers. he calls and says that the word on the street is that the man was shot. the cops are examining the screen outside the window, which faces the street. this is the first i've heard of anything like that. in the meantime, the county coroner has shown up, bringing the number of people on the scene to what must be at least 20. scott confirms my total from his observations made from the street below. (the first floor of apartments is actually the second floor of the building). the people from the coroner's office are taking lots of pix. still no firm idea on what's going on and no sign of the family, either. i'm assuming that they're taking care of their arrangements and are no longer needed on the scene.
by around 9:30 p.m. they start wrapping their investigation and letting the tenants into the building. scott says that our neighbor was shot based on what he's learned. a few minutes after scott came in a detective comes into our apartment and asks us if we've heard or seen anything weird or unusual in the last week that might help explain our neighbor's death. scott and i are both shocked. we, unfortunately, have nothing to offer in terms of a lead. i had been out of town until late tuesday night and been working each day.
suddenly i became the person i had interviewed all those times i had to cover murders and traffic fatalities, who could say only that the person was quiet and that they didn't know him/her very well. our neighbor had only moved in about two months ago, and i had only seen him literally a handful of times. he was an older man whose door was always closed when i got home from work, so i wasn't going to disturb him or anything. the cop takes our phone numbers and asks us to call him if we can think of anything that might help in the investigation. the cops leave and take the screen doors with them.
shortly after that our other neighbors, andy and tatiana, came by. they also didn't know anything, but tatiana at least knew our neighbor's name. he was frank and he was very easy to talk to, she said. suddenly all the questions that i could have asked the detective... that i should have asked the detective.... that i would have asked the detective had i been a reporter covering this in albany flooded me. what was his name? what do think happened? when did this happen? do you think it was planned or random?
after tatiana and andy stopped by they later convened outside with scott and our upstairs neighbors, including the guy returning from tae kwon doe class. scott learns that he saw frank's body as he was leaving the apartment. tatiana had heard from a cop while waiting outside that they think it was random. scott is naturally disturbed by what happened and says he would think about moving. i am trying to figure out how a bullet could come up from the street and kill a man in his apartment if it was random. it would have had to have been such a remote chance of it coming up from what would have been a minimum 50 feet away and then strike the body in a place that would be fatal. at this weird inclined angle. i doesn't make sense.
i'm saddened obviously, but apparently not as troubled as scott. we live in a decent neighborhood with lots of families, an elem school within walking distance and as safe as pretty much any neighborhood i could afford in los angeles. this was just a sad random act that claimed a nice man named, frank.
a day later, i'm still sad, though unsure of what to do. unfortunately, and in this case i hate L.A., it's too big here to learn much. the LA Times doesn't cover stories like this -- they're too common -- at least not in depth. and there is no smaller paper devoted to stuff like this either. so hopefully i'll find out more about frank.
worry not about me though, i'm fine. just take a moment though and try to remember to reach out to strangers.
Friday, July 16, 2004
Why I live in the City of Angels
This is from Bill Simmons's column on espn.com
Q: Sports Guy, why are you still living in Los Angeles? Why would a Boston sports fan live in L.A. when he has no reason to? You used similar logic when you suggested that Ben Affleck can't be a real Red Sox fan because he dated a girl from the Bronx. What is the attraction in L.A.?
-- DJ Junior, Haverhill, Mass.
BS: I can't decide on an answer between "Um ... it's 80 degrees every day?" and "Every woman out here dresses like a hooker." So I guess I'll say both. But yes, I do miss Boston. Very much so.
JimmyKimmel: Here's a little secret I probably shouldn't let you in on, but I will: Wherever you're living right now, L.A. is nicer. In nearly every category, we win. No reasonable person who has ever spent any amount of time here would argue this -- and those who do are in denial. Our weather is better, we have more to do, more to see -- our gardeners charge 50 bucks a month -- and, as a group, the women here make yours look like livestock. L.A. is to cities what George Clooney is to men. Better. And those "earthquakes" we have once every 10 years? Spielberg, Lucas and -- starting next year -- DeVito produce them to scare people away who might be thinking of moving here. Please don't tell anyone.
Q: Sports Guy, why are you still living in Los Angeles? Why would a Boston sports fan live in L.A. when he has no reason to? You used similar logic when you suggested that Ben Affleck can't be a real Red Sox fan because he dated a girl from the Bronx. What is the attraction in L.A.?
-- DJ Junior, Haverhill, Mass.
BS: I can't decide on an answer between "Um ... it's 80 degrees every day?" and "Every woman out here dresses like a hooker." So I guess I'll say both. But yes, I do miss Boston. Very much so.
JimmyKimmel: Here's a little secret I probably shouldn't let you in on, but I will: Wherever you're living right now, L.A. is nicer. In nearly every category, we win. No reasonable person who has ever spent any amount of time here would argue this -- and those who do are in denial. Our weather is better, we have more to do, more to see -- our gardeners charge 50 bucks a month -- and, as a group, the women here make yours look like livestock. L.A. is to cities what George Clooney is to men. Better. And those "earthquakes" we have once every 10 years? Spielberg, Lucas and -- starting next year -- DeVito produce them to scare people away who might be thinking of moving here. Please don't tell anyone.
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