So… the police came to our house again tonight. It doesn’t happen all that often, but
it’s starting to increase in frequency a bit. We’ll have to watch ourselves. It was
for a noise complaint, as usual, this time it was from some old lady or something
(I’ve only heard the store second-hand) and we scored 5 cop cars! Yee!

Anyway, the woman is apparently talking about a law suit and says she’s complained to
the city, and called the cops, and whined about it to her friends, and … well,
talked to everybody about it but us. Hmmm… that doesn’t seem like the most
(how should I put this? … ) effective way to handle the situation, does it?

Doesn’t it seem logical to you that the first place you should go to solve your problems
would be the source? That seems like the most direct way to me.
I could be wrong, of course.
But I don’t think I am.

I have a simple request. Unless you suspect your neighbors are homicidal,
please attempt to handle your own frickin’ domestic problems before
you go and bug the police, who have much better things to do in my neighborhood
with 5 cop cars. I bet the cops will appreciate the extra free-time, and it just plain
feels good!

Thank me later.


I was thinking today (or perhaps last night) how glad I am that there are men and women.
I’m glad that humans were not created as a single-sex species that just sort of replicates
every once in awhile. On top of that, I’m glad that men and women seem to be different.
I like to feel like there’s always more to the world no matter how much I think I can
learn from it on my own. There’s always at least one other possible perspective.

As it turns out, too, when you really start paying attention, there’s a lot more than
just one other perspective. There are as many other perspectives as you can open your
mind up to. There are so many people around you every day with so many different ways
of thinking and feeling. And all you have to do is notice.

I wish it were as easy to do things as it were to say them.

Give me a shout!


“Something good”, I think to myself. “Once per day… no problem.”
But I don’t want to have to make something up.
And it doesn’t seem like I should have to, right?
So why can’t I think of anything?

Let’s see… I do like the way popsicles taste and feel. That’s a good thing about the
world. I imagine I wouldn’t like all the things popsicle manufacturing companies have to
do to keep the popsicles cheap enough for us to buy them, though.

Well, I guess I’m just lucky that the world around me has enough distractions to not
let my own ethics get in the way of me still enjoying myself once in awhile.

That’s a blessing.


It sickens me to know that we live in a world where people have been forced into feeding
on each other, both financially and emotionally. Each person must look out for their own
interests and only their own interests. That’s fine, but you must always keep in mind
that your own interests are tightly wound with those of other people. If you hurt
someone else, you are very possibly hurting yourself in some way. It may not be evident
until a long time in the future, and in fact you may never realize it at all.

I guess
some people would call a notion like this karma, but I think it’s more wordly than that.
It’s an extension of the you scratch my back, I’ll scratch your back thing. When you help
people, they are more likely to help you in the future (or perhaps just refrain from
hurting you) and the more people who are willing to help you, then less likely it is
that you will find yourself in an impossible situation. Sounds simple, don’t it?

Anyway, in case this has never happened to you… it sucks to come back to your car in the
parking area after an event of some kind and find the window shattered and covering the
front seat, the dash ripped apart, and the stereo missing. It really does.

(it wasn’t even my car, but it sucked nonetheless)

Sometimes, just sometimes, I think that people should have to get some sort of license

just to leave the house. People should have to pass some sort of test or at
least some sort of examination before they are allowed out into the world. I’m not
talking about the wackos walking around Westwood (hip part of LA near UCLA), or the
homeless people that dig through my trash. It’s the numbskulls that think its
a good idea to do things like race ahead to turn left or right in front of the
crossing pedestrians at a busy intersection, or the lunatic old man that shot like
a bat right out of the pits of hell right in front of my walking self as he turned into
his parking garage. His frickin’ parking garage!

That’s one thing I’ll never understand about LA… everyone here seems to be
in the biggest damn hurry you’ll ever see, and all to get somewhere they don’t want
to be. Then they leave after a long day doing things they don’t want to do,
and hurry their asses home to watch the news and find out about
everything they missed during the day.

What’s up with that?


I was in a good mood this week. I don’t really notice my mood much, but every once
in awhile, it just hits me, and I look around and I see the same old irritating stuff,
but for some reason it makes me happy. Sometimes, I’m just delighted to have the chance
to sit in traffic a little bit longer with the same jerk that cut me off the day before.

But not all the time. So I take it when I can get it.
This week was one of the good ones.

People who work in restaurants should not have to pay for their food at all. Those

people are giving their lives so the blood-sucking corporates can drive a frickin’
Lexus (a very lame car). People just need to live, you
know? And the fuckers want to charge them money for the lousy food that they have to make
for themselves. Maybe next somebody’ll figure out a way to make me pay for the food
I eat in my own house, even though I bought it and prepared it. I’m sure some fucker
somewhere is already working on that. Then I bet they’ll make me pay them for the privilege
of cleaning my own house with my own cleaning supplies. Where’s the love?

That’s what I want to know.