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November 30, 2012

hater.

OK, so there's this new article out on the Vice magazine site by some British cat who calls himself "Jamie Lee Curtis Taete" called "Reasons Why Los Angeles is the Worst Place Ever."

It's gone viral, and everyone is responding to it. And now so am I, not because I want to be part of the internet herd, but because I write a blog about the complex relationship I have with my city, which happens to be L.A., and I thought this would be a good topic for a blog entry.

I'll be addressing each point in the Vice article. Here we go.

1. There is danger everywhere. The author says, "I have to worry about drive-bys and forest fires and mountain lions and "The Big One" and rattlesnakes and brain-eating parasites and home invasions and fucking TSUNAMIS!"

Franklin Canyon. An oasis right in the middle of the city. Beverly Hills, to be exact.

OK, let's calm down for a moment. In the 13 years I've lived in L.A., I've experience a few minor earthquakes, but nothing that even resembles 'The Big One." The fires are a definite bummer. Have yet to experience a tsunami, and the hurricanes East Coast and the tornadoes in the Midwest were both scarier than anything I've been through here. Mudslides suck--but only if you live in Malibu, and if you do, you're probably rich enough to buy another house should yours slide into the ocean.

Yes, there are rattlesnakes and mountain lions in those mountains. But there are also ducks!

I've never worried about mountain lions or rattlesnakes until I got a dog. Now they are both legitimate concerns when you go hiking. But I love the idea that you can hike in rugged territory right in the middle of one of the world's largest cities. And I don't mind sharing the space with other wildlife as long as we understand our boundaries. OK, snakes and lions probably don't give a shit about my boundaries, but I'm more than happy to stay out of their way.

And turtles!

But I think JCLT alludes to (in a rather alarmist way) the fact that while L.A. is often thought of a mild and conducive place to live with perfect weather 300 days of the year, it's really one of the country's crossroads for natural disasters. In that sense--yes, there is danger everywhere.

2. It is impossible to have a normal night out. The author cites the complete dearth of public transportation, cabs or any place to walk. Valet parking for a "yoga rave" (I have no idea what this is) will cost you up to $30. You're always prey to drunk drivers, and if you park you'll own car, you'll forget where you did (maybe because you're drunk?) and get a ticket.

 A night out in Downtown Los Angeles. Pretty.

Ooohhh...k. Here's the reality: there is a shitload of public transportation in L.A. The Metro is awesome; it just doesn't hit enough spots yet. I've never paid more than $7 for valet parking (including tip), and again, I have to reiterate, I have never heard of a "yoga rave." There are also plenty of cabs, and guess what? They're all Prius's, which is excellent. The roads are a virtual sea of Prius's these days, so don't give me any shit about the air quality. Because it's improved dramatically.

Parking tickets are, however, an issue. Every Angeleno knows that if your meter has expired for even one minute, you will get a ticket. Because the traffic cops are actually supernatural beings that materialize out of thin air the moment a meter expires. Point taken, Jamie. As for drunk drivers, they drive everywhere, in every city and every country in the world. All I have to say is--any time I'm out driving on New Year's Eve, the streets are deserted in a way that's totally eerie. and I've never been through more sobriety checkpoints than I have in L.A.

Also, there are tons of great little neighborhoods and places to walk around. The idea that nobody walks in L.A. is easily the biggest myth about this city. Sorry, Missing Persons.



Echo Park. A simply delightful place to stroll in L.A.

You can pop into Stories, my favorite bookstore.

 The 3rd Street district. Another wonderful place to walk around.


3. There is hippie bullshit absolutely everywhere. Now are we talking hippie bullshit or New Age bullshit? Because there's a difference, and Jamie mentions both. For hippie bullshit, you need to head up the coast for about an hour to Ventura, Ojai and Santa Barbara. It's a different world up there, but honestly, it's just like being in Vermont.

 If you're in search of hippie bullshit, go North. If you're looking for 
New Age-y bullshit, stay right here.

Now for the New Age bullshit. Yes, we have that in spades. But you know why? Not to get ahead of myself, but I think it has a lot to do with what the article talks about in point 5, "there are broken dreams everywhere you look." L.A. is a mecca of broken people. They come here broken, hoping that a sprinkle of magic fairy Hollywood dust will heal them, only to find that it breaks them over and over again. There's no place in the world where you will find such a huge population searching for something to heal them. Hence, all the crazy cult religions and spiritual practices, the chakras, the healers, the self-help schemes, and yes, the Scientologists (more to come on that, too).

4. There are too many different extreme sports. Honestly, I know nothing of this world. But the author goes on to describe the plethora of skateboarders on the streets, and I think the term "extreme sports" refers to something beyond simple skateboarding. This was something else I never really noticed until I got a dog. If she even sees a skateboarder from the car across four lanes of traffic, her head practically explodes. It's a bit of an issue, but we seem to manage.

This was my view while eating Thanksgiving dinner. I know it's not exactly as picturesque as watching your relatives gorge on turkey, guzzle beer and watch football, but somehow, I made do.

I don't really care to go into this, because I just can't stand sports. But I will say the amount of art and culture in L.A. makes my head want to explode. The museums, the local art and music scenes, the classical music--while we may not have the volume a place like New York or London has, the offering here are often cutting edge and always fascinating. I could go on and on about this, but I have six more points to address.

The sun sets on The Worst Place Ever. It's just awful, isn't it?

5. There are broken dreams everywhere you look. Ah, yes. This is a difficult one. It's very true. And another fact of living in a city where everyone is chasing a dream well into their 40's and 50's. But what's the alternative? Giving up? I kind of loved that about L.A. when I first moved here. Everyone I waited tables with was auditioning or writing or shooting a movie, and granted, it's a different story now that I'm in my 40's, but the truth is, a lot of those wanna-be's make it. Many more don't, but at least they had the balls to try.

6. The restaurants are so pretentious, it's like a joke from a really unfunny movie making fun of L.A. Wow. Not just a funny movie about making fun of L.A., but an unfunny movie. That's bad. Also completely false. Clearly this guy has never read the work of Pulitzer prize-winning critic, Jonathan Gold.

Yes, the "Urban Taco Fabricator" sucks, but what did you expect from Silverlake? Plus, if you had just crossed the street, you could have experienced Alegria. Or hopped on the bus (that's right) and gone to Mexicali Taco. Or continued on Cesar Chavez Boulevard to Boyle Heights and Guisados or Antojitos Carmen. Come on, dude. Open your eyes. The options for incredible, authentic tacos in this town are like pebbles on the beach.


Skip the Urban Taco Fabricator and head up to Antojitos Guerrero 
in Highland Park. It's beyond charming.

Also, Taete picks on everyone's favorite target, Café Gratitude. But here's the thing: it's a San Francisco restaurant that just branched out to L.A. last year. So, don't blame us for those ridiculous names. And have you ever eaten there? Because it will take your belief that vegan cuisine is bland and mealy and weird and unappetizing and totally turn it on its head. Shit is seriously delicious. And let's not forget Sage, Flore, Elf Café and Mohawk Bend. Anyone can go vegan with these restaurants right in your backyard.

The I Am Gracious bowl at Café Gratitude. Pretentious? Yes. But so damn delicious.

7. David Spade has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Yes. But so does Dolly Parton. And Igor Stravinksy, Jascha Heifetz, Yehudi Menuhin and Leonard Bernstein. Look them up.



8. People think improv comedy is funny. Well, it is when it's done well, but again, I'm as interested debating the merits of improv comedy as I am extreme sports. Moving on.

 In lieu of any comedy club pics, please enjoy this photo 
of white bougainvillea. I find it hypnotic.

9. Nobody will ever tell you what their job is. Ha ha. This is true. And really fucking annoying.
And yes, ask anyone what they do, and they'll tell you how they earn a paycheck, and then they'll tell you they're an actor or a screenwriter or a director or a producer or studying to be an energy healer. And that's all ok. It's when they tell you they're an actor-writer-director-producer-energy-healing-student--that's a big red flag. Watch out for the hyphenates. And run.

 I don't have any pics of actor-writer-director-producer-energy-healers. But you know I love me some Día de los Muertos goodness.

10. Everyone is scared of Scientology. Wha? Where did that come from? Everyone I know is appropriately creeped out by it. We all know what the deal by now, right? We all read the massive Paul Haggis profile in the New Yorker and all those articles in the Village Voice, right? It's not 1987 anymore, right?

This just seems to be grasping at straws. And like it should have been a part of this article, How To Hate On Los Angeles In 5 Easy Steps. Step 6 could have been "bash Scientology." 

But I thought the author of this article summed it all up beautifully:

"Hating on a city you live in is the cheapest, easiest writing assignment in the world...And nowhere does it come cheaper and easier than in Los Angeles."

In lieu of any photos of the Scientology buildings, please enjoy the view of 
Palos Verdes from my uncle's deck. Seriously, how does anybody live here?


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