7/15/04 7:34 PM: "Steal while the stealing is good; it's the first rule of kleptocracies." -- Jon Carroll

R.I.P. WEEZIE: Sources report that actress Isabel Sanford has died. Of course she was best known for working alongside Sherman Hemlsley, playing the role of Louise Jefferson on the All In The Family spin-off sitcom The Jeffersons. This somehow saddens me. I don't have much to say about this, but my respect to her as a creative person and my condolences to her family. Anedge hirak Isabel Sanford.

LONELY AT THE TOP: On Monday, I drove up Crenshaw to go to the Getty House, just north of Wilshire, to have lunch with Mayor James Hahn. I was surprised by how sad it was. The idea was that the mayor would sit down with the "players" in community media and the Black press to kind of get them on his side, which is a challenge after the Stanley Miller beating that's got everybody's panties in a bunch. The mayor talked exclusively in generalities, about "training" and "community policing" without offering any hard facts because he really couldn't. There is an established culture of ruthlessness in Southern California law enforcement that has existed for decades. Its practitioners have seen mayors and chiefs come and go, and if somebody starts busting their balls, they can normally outlast them. Then, when each media person (and a wildly over-talkative publicist from Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles, who catered and also own Pit Bull energy drinks) started talking up "their neighborhoods" I had to stifle a laugh. Of the six media people there and the four city officials with the mayor, I was the only one who actually lived in the community being discussed, South Los Angeles. Pasadena, Playa del Vista, San Pedro, but nobody but me in the legal confines of the city. Embarrassing.

When I decided to take the invitation, I debated whether or not I'd go in and ride poor Jimmy Hahn like a carnival roller coaster. The invite talked about making LA "the safest big city in the nation," about "growing local economy," "increasing housting stock," "more jobs" and "delivering services that affect quality of life." Then he starts in on a wholly superfluous "committee" overseen by community flack John Mack, aimed at the police department which does "not control, not oversee, but watch" (his words, not mine). John Mack seems, as far as I've seen in the last ten years, more interested in getting his smiling mug plastered in newspapers than doing much else, but to each his own. His self-aggrandizing drama won't get into my paper.

So then Hahn talks about the things he kind of understands from his ten-thousand foot view. The housing development for Marlton Square, which (coincidentally) will doze flat the offices of my newspaper, which has been haggled about endlessly between the barely literate Magic Johnson and that pompous gasbag Mark Ridley-Thomas, before Keyshawn Johnson came in and somehow snatched the deal away under everybody's noses. It'll "rezone" the Jungle and probably move white people back into south LA, which is great for streets and services and tax bases and hell on the local culture (such as it is) and the less-than-affluent people who live here and will probably get priced out. Like me.

Or he talks about a half-cent sales tax increase to pay for more cops and legal apparatus, citing that there's probably only 300 "response units" available at any given time for the whole city. He says that, and I think of virtually every Friday and Saturday night I've ever seen, with no fewer than twenty police cars and ten bikes concentrated on Hollywood Boulevard, with as many cops hitting on girls as "keeping things safe." Or the two fat bike cops who speed trap northbound La Brea at least fifteen hours a week, often waking me up with their siren blares in mid-afternoon. More cops. Great. That'll help.

Listening to him prattle -- about how different races "generally get along" (a hard sell at the likes of Jefferson High School) and reminiscences of his father and his more successful reign as city attorney ... it was obvious to me the man has peaked. The body of his political career has been riding on the coattails of his father's success. Outside of LA, that doesn't play too well. Where does he go from here? Nowhere. He's a limp mayor at best, not even a John Quincy Adams in stature to his father's really dominating legacy. The police ignore him. The Black community have little confidence in him. He's not well supported in the moneyed areas of town, and the Latins always support their own, not some gringo with an entitlement. He's a lame duck while still in office, and the weight of that seemed heavy on his shoulders. Made me kinda feel bad for the poor bastard.

Until I remembered the cop problems I've had this year, the unsolved mysteries that have gone unheeded by my scant tax dollars, my leaking radiator, my mounting bills, and decided Jim Hahn can go back to his luxurious home in his chauffeured SUV and suck on it. Everybody hurts.

FILTHY LUCRE: After watching my mutual fund go from $1700 two years ago to $1100 this week, I called Sunamerica on Monday and liquidated the account. Screw it -- I'll never get to retirement if I don't get some things handled now. So by next week I should get, what $600 of that (damned taxes), which will let me get the car completely hooked up (complete detailing and fix the cooling system problem). I believe I'll be staying in more, as I have been the last few weeks. I'm getting more writing done, starting to get caught up on movies and all that. Saving is a good thing, get me back on track for my plan of owning an apartment building by 2009 or so. I'm on my own out here.

FAT TUESDAY: Lots of people around me are fat, or obsessed with their weight. I have a metabolism that's three or four times faster than normal people. I don't care. But how everybody is fat and fixated on it -- "carbs" being the new stupid buzzword I can't escape -- is part of the reason why Amerikkkan's are rightfully hated the world over. Nobody in Sudan has anorexia, I assure you. Puking up your food or fixating on somebody else's sexual preference is purely the domain of the well-fed with too much free time.

CAR-MA CHAMELEON:So I'm 90% sure the radiator is shot to hell, so I found Chevyradiators.com, which may or may not have had a live chat with me (or just a really well programmed script) and pointed towards some places that may help me. The repairs will run between $200-450 according to online estimates, which is a beyotch but oh well.

In the mean time, I have two bottles of Peak antifreeze/coolant strapped into the seat-belts in my back seat like amiable five-year-olds, and every time i'm gonna drive for a bit, I pour a little coolant in to the ... holder, receptacle? What is that called? Anyway, I pour some in, and it calmly leaks out over the next few hours. Circle of life, and all that. I hope the repairs leave me enough for my iPod hook up as well.

SIGNS OF THE SIXTH SENSE IN THE UNBREAKABLE VILLAGE: I've discovered that I just like saying "Shyamalan," as in the name of the director of Sixth Sense and the new film The Village. When I see his name in print, or hear it on TV, I often break into song. "Shaa-ma-laaaan, whoa, shaaa-ma-laaaaan ..." I don't know where I got the tune I'm singing, somewhere old, but it always cracks me up.

CAR FRISBEE: There's a commercial for GM's "Summerdrive" promotion (I'm watching more TV, sue me) where people toss a frisbee between a number of cars in traffic. It looks like so much fun. Cars with sunroofs have a clear advantage, and convertibles completely rule. It looked best to have a driver and a designated thrower/catcher, but again a blonde in a convertible seemed at ease making the play. There's a zany game in this, somewhere. Probably an illegal one, but still ...

UP NEXT? YO, I BELIEVE THAT'S ME: Now up to 996 songs in the new collection, and with new discs coming in Friday and Monday, I'll be well over a thousand. A better collection than the one I lost, by far. Getting familiar with it is a challenge, since the bulk of the new discs are mixes. It's a fun challenge, but it's always a reminder of the fact I was stupid and spent a lot of money that kind of went up in smoke. Like when somebody mentions my ex-wife.

I remember when I used to fiend for Wednesday nights, to go workshop a new piece or read one that I loved. Now, I'd rather go sing. Less work, less emotional investment or bad feelings over burnt bridges or people who I feel betrayed or backstabbed me. No bad business dealings around karaoke bars. Yet. Another shift in my life.

DE JURE: It costs $15 to transfer over the title on a car. You also have to pay sales tax to the DMV on how much you (say) you paid for it. The last part irks me, but oh well. Ended up costing me $98 to get straight with the state. Always a scam somewhere, and there's insurance still to deal with ...

On the other hand, I made an appointment at the DMV for 3:30 this afternoon, showed up at 3:05 and was done by 3:32. Inglewood DMV was strangely empty today, and the people working there were pretty zippy. Strange. Good, but strange. I didn't even open the book I took with me (the second Brown Sugar anthology, featuring a work by my friend Jenoyne) or listen to my freshly charged iPod. A quick day.

TELLING STORIES: I wrote a new short story which I will polish with more visual details soon. I am glad I'm getting more ideas out and written down. It's funny how the concepts of love and consequences keep popping up in my work.

That's about all I have for now.

"'Crazy' is a term of art: 'Insane' is a term of Law. Remember that and you will save yourself a lot of trouble." -- Dr. Hunter S. Thompson (more valuable than ever in an election year)