With the Bruin Men’s hoops squad opening conference play yesterday with a solid victory over Stanford, we now look to this year’s roster to pick out that one standout player whose year we will cover closely along the road to the Final Four.

Losanjealous readers, meet Kelvin Kim.

Kim, a 5′11″ guard, is a walk-on from El Toro High, but lest you think he is the Bruins’ “Rudy,” let us recap his impressive prep school resume. Averaging 14.6 points and 5.2 assists, Kelvin was named First Team All OC by the OC Register his senior year. In addition, he was the 2004 South Coast League MVP. Kelvin developed a reputation for his big game clutch shooting. Witness this write-up in the Register:

Kim helps Chargers hold off Cougars
The senior powers El Toro past Capistrano Valley and to a share of the South Coast League title.
By K.J.M. SINGLETON
Special to the Register
LAKE FOREST – Kelvin Kim isn’t a surgeon. He just plays one on the basketball court.
El Toro’s senior guard scored five points in the final 1 minute, 24 seconds of the game to lead the Chargers to a 51-50 victory over Capistrano Valley Wednesday night at El Toro High.
“He’ll just cut heart out,” Capistrano Valley coach Brian Mulligan said…
“He’s the man,” El Toro coach Todd Dixon said. “I need to clone him.”

Yet, despite his documented success at El Toro, he has had a number of detractors. Chatter on the SoCalHoops.com message boards earlier this year expressed doubts about his ability to play at the next level:

>>>Heard quite a bit about him… how good is he? Is he being recruited?

>>>He was good against Dana. But he is like 5′2″. He is a firecracker, but way too small to play basketball at anything but a JC or lower level college. I am sure he can go to a higher level school on academics. Whatever he plans on after HS, I wish him the best.

>>>No disrespect to Kelvin Kim, because he is a great student and individual, but Kim will never play a game at the next level, unless it is intramurals.

>>>Kim will not play at a UC or Division 1 school. Kim might get accepted because of his grades, and more power to him, but he will not play.

No doubt those guys are eating crow now while Kelvin dons the blue and gold. He’s already become a Pauley Pavillion fan favorite. His energetic entrance into a game in it’s final minute is met with thunderous cheers, signifying that the Bruins have the game in hand. It won’t be long before the expression “When Kelvin’s in the game” overtakes “When the fat lady sings.” You heard it here first.

Kelvin’s line against Stanford:

SCARY NEW YEARS EVE, ST. LOUIS, MO, 1962

In a dank, dark basement a genuine skeleton dances with a very happy woman. As they sway to the rhythm the Skeleton enjoys a cigarette. There’s a cigarette butt in his mouth. And, by the way, the skeleton is not an imposter. A man came up to me after a slide show and said, “I’m a doctor and that skeleton is real!” (thanks for the info doc!). Behind them, on a crepe paper tablecloth with well-preserved fold lines, sit several bottles of boos. At least one of them is half empty. Behind the tabletop bar is a dryer. That’s very progressive. Most people didn’t have dryers in 1962. And most people don’t usually dance with dead people at parties either!

Too bad they are in St. Louis and not Southern California because chances are pretty slim they’re going to wake up the next morning all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and go to the Rose Parade in Pasadena. In no uncertain terms the Rose Parade is the grandest and most detailed parade on the planet. The prized show horses, champion marching bands and rolling flower petal art procession is Southern California’s most colorful tradition. It all began on New Years Day way back in 1890 when members of the Valley Hunt Club decorated their buggies with flowers and paraded down the avenue.

But to REALLY enjoy the Rose Parade you have to see it in person. It’s a million-trillion times more spectacular when you are there. The detail is overwhelming! Your imagination will be inspired and your spirit will soar! But don’t think that you don’t have to get there the night before to get a great spot, oh-no! Here’s the deal. Arrive at the parade about 8:30AM. The trick is to get a spot at the end of the parade route – Colorado and Sierra Madre. And it’s FREE!

DIRECTIONS…From LA take the San Bernardino Fwy (10) exit at Atlantic Blvd. Go north to Huntington Drive, turn right, then left on Sierra Madre Blvd. PARK YOUR CAR just east of Sierra Madre Blvd, on a residential side street, four or five blocks South of Colorado Blvd. Then bask in the rosy glow of all the posy petals and pomp and circumstance somewhere near the corner of Sierra Madre and Colorado Blvd, which is near the end of the parade route.

Afterwards you’ll be starving of course. Please allow me to recommend the hearty-heavy-fatty fare at one of Southern California’s most extreme themed restaurants, the North Woods Inn. It’s located nearby at the corner of Rosemead and Huntington Drive (7247 Rosemead Blvd, San Gabriel, 626-286-8284). Please don’t forget to marvel at the fake snow on the roof.

And…if you’re up early watch for me on the KTLA Pre-Rose Parade Show beginning at 6am.

Wishing you and yours the happiest of Happy New Years!
Cheers to the Scary New Years Eve party, the Rose Parade and YOU!

Charles Phoenix

Visit Charles’ site, God Bless Americana, or join his Yahoo Group.

To promote the NBC comedy “My Name is Earl,” Universal Studios theme park announced free admission throughout the month of January to anyone whose name is Earl. What other TV/theme park promotions are in the works?

• Everybody Hates Chris/Disneyland: Automatic FastPass for anyone named Chris who is universally despised
• Gilmore Girls/Magic Mountain: All single moms 16 years and younger receive free twicket
• Prison Break/Knott’s Berry Farm: Complimentary gift basket of preserves for anyone who stages an actual prison break
• Deal or No Deal/Raging Waters: Half-price admission after 5:00 for those classified with severe or profound mental retardation

After wasting away for the better part of a year without serving so much as a single wooden sampler spoonful of gelato, the Bene Bene Mini-Truck of Fairfax Village fell victim to a ruthless tagging. We sent our writer deep undercover, straight to the seamy underbelly of Gelato gangland to decipher the cryptic vandalism. Eventually he returned with minor scrapes and the following translations which we now present to you, faithful reader.

‘Oh Bene Bene Bene Bene Bene Bene, Bene. So cute and yet so filthy you, now, having parked your bene-advertising ass on one curb or another for a good six-plus months in the Fairfax neighborhood sans gelato uno. You served not a single scoop of gelato this year. Finally, you were tagged proper. Bene bene bene, it breaks the heart to think what might have been. If only. If only, bene, you were allowed to sing. To soar. To be everything you threatened to be, bene. Bene, bene, bene, bene, bene, bene, bene, bene, benebenebenebenebene, Bene! How my heart sings for thee, bene. Sings, but does not mourn. You tease, you. It was bound to happen, you lovely son of a bitch. Gelato my ass, pin-striped figlio di capra.’

Photographic Evidence: one, two, three

Related:Profile: Bene Bene Mini-Truck, Fairfax Village

Visit our concert calendar for a full show list, links to buy tickets and our picks.

***Recommended Show of the Week***
Flaming Lips, Death Cab for Cutie @ Giant Village
If you can get around the logistic nightmare of traveling to and from downtown and you’re not suckered into designated driving and you can afford the $80 cover and you don’t suffer from claustrophobia this is easily the most appealing NYE option on the table.

Get tickets now: Jeff Tweedy @ Henry Fonda (2nd show added); Tenacious D @ Henry Fonda; Christopher O’Riley interprets Elliot Smith @ Getty (announced–mark your calendars to rsvp)

MONDAY
Lion Fever @ Echo (free)

TUESDAY
We Are Scientists (acoustic) @ Cinespace
Los Lobos @ House of Blues

WEDNESDAY
Common @ House of Blues (two shows)
Dresden Dolls @ Jensen RecCenter Studio

THURSDAY
Dresden Dolls @ Henry Fonda
Morricone Youth @ Tangier
Social Distortion @ House of Blues

FRIDAY
Social Distortion @ House of Blues
Dredg @ Roxy

SATURDAY
Flaming Lips, Death Cab for Cutie @ Giant Village
Poncho Sanchez @ Conga Room
Breakestra @ Temple Bar
Dredg @ Roxy
John Legend @ House of Blues

SUNDAY
You’re in no shape to go out tonight.

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24 December 2005. My fever tops 103F. Throat raw. Swallowing razorblades. I roll into dreamland…

My head’s on the chopping block. The cook from my freshman year dorm’s pinned my arms behind my back, laughing at me, preparing to make me into a crumb-topped cassoulet. I shiver. I shake. The bed melts around me. I’m sinking into a great fondue of sheets. My gramma appears over the edge of the bed with a two-pronged fork, bread bits skewered, priming to dip into the steaming cheesy goo. She leers at me over a gin and tonic. ‘Fondue!!’ I think of the book Stop This Man! by Peter Rabe, acutely aware that Erskine Caldwell, author of God’s Little Acre, ‘couldn’t put this book down!’ I wonder what Dave Hart’s Christmas is like. Did he come down the chimney and deliver gifts to Chip and the gang? Did he get any window-painting gigs for extra cash? I’ve got his Christmas CD. Why on earth haven’t I called him? I wonder of Fancy Dancer. My father would look good on rollerblades. I think of Victor, Ron, Frederick Chest, DeMarco. What does a DeMarco do for Christmas, do you suppose? Anything he wants. The cook is sharpening his butcher’s knife now, slathering and slimmering all over the industrial kitchen. Six guys from my hall are filling their trays, getting iced tea, paying me no mind behind the counter. There’s Sweany. There’s Davis. Guys, over here. Cook’s laughing. His apron is bloodied. He tap dances to Andy Williams. I can’t shake the image of a Lego® TIE Fighter in shimmery gold paper. IPods, DVDs, novellas, divinity fudge, rum-spiked eggnog, sausage balls, cheese balls, cheese logs, sausage logs, logs and balls devoid of sausage and cheese entirely. I think of firewood. My fever breaks. I wake in a pool of blood, sweat and tears. The bedside alarm plays a song by earth, wind and fire. I yearn for Andy Williams. I awake on Christmas morn and immediately call for vitamin C, sudafed, throat lozenges, coffee, kleenex. 2005 is winding down, but it’s not over yet.

Related: My Fever Dream

CHEERS TO CHRISTMAS! SHERMAN OAKS, 1958.

Cheers to the shape of that woman’s brassiere, her titty-pink top and her shocking pink hostess pants.
Cheers to the Hugh Hefner wannabee.
Cheers to the two ladies toasting on the couch – especially the most glamorous woman in the history of my slide collection. She wears a timeless-classic ostrich feather hat and smokes a cigarette with an abundance of style.
Cheers to the Christmas tree, the ornaments, garland, lights and heaven-sent angel on top.

Cheers to all of you and yours!

Wishing you and yours the Merriest and the Happiest!

Charles Phoenix

Visit Charles’ site, God Bless Americana, or join his Yahoo Group.

LA Times whips out the tape measure to report that our own City Hall’s 2005 Christmas tree doesn’t quite measure up to other civic holiday tree displays in major cities across the land.

LA’s bush, 25 feet from base to tip when fully erect, comes up short when compared to both New York’s Rockefeller Center and Chicago’s Daley Plaza’s throbbing Yule shafts, which come in at 74 and 85 feet, respectively.

San Francisco’s, in Golden Gate Park, is an uncut, glistening 100-footer, providing a truly satisfying sensory experience.

Newport Beach’s Fashion Island mall revealed a whopping 115-foot trunk this year, though most agree that it is simply too much to take in without causing neck pain.

For next year, we recommend that City Hall go with a long, firm Festivus pole.

We have no snow. But we have Clifton’s Patriotic Christmas…

Vegas-Sized Elephants towering over that new cream puff joint [one, two] …

Original Tommy’s Frosty [one, two] …

Decrepit Theatres on Broadway…

The Watercourt at California Plaza [one, two]…

House of David™s, Oki-Dog and so many, many things we wouldn’t have, had we snow. So I personally say thanks, but keep your snow. At year’s end I’m very happily surrounded by all the weird shit that can only be found in Losanjealous, California. Besides. When I really need snow, it’s close. Big Bear. Summit. Mountain High. Mammoth Lakes. 80% of the bathroom stalls in Hollywood.

Bonus snow-free photos
Cel Phone Santa, Broadway
Silly Christmas Crap, Hill St.

While the LAPD regularly runs sting operations to crack down on prostitution and drug trafficking, La Verne police have their own worries. This week the LVPD are running a series of stings to catch drivers who fail to yield to pedestrians. This seems easy enough but let’s look at the rules and logistics behind a pedestrian sting.

1. As with any sting, the main goal is to catch people committing a crime by means of deception, and embarrass the shit out of them over mass media. But failure to stop for a crossing pedestrian does not make the evening news. Strike one.
2. Sting operations are supposed to be a secret. Announcing a sting in the local paper is counterproductive to running an efficient sting. We’re not off to a good start here.
3. An officer will need to play the role of a potential victim. In a successful pedestrian sting, this may require bring run over by moving vehicles several times throughout the day. Any volunteers?
4. It is against the law for officers to provoke the crime. This rules out haphazard sprinting through random intersections in hopes of getting blindsided.
5. As COPS has taught us, when the bait is taken all hell must break loose: pealing police cars, blaring sirens, barking dogs, drawn pistols, handcuffs, what have you…
6. If your city’s biggest concern is failure to yield, you’re in pretty good shape. Let it go.

Race you to the top, suckers.

Two masked men entered a McDonald’s in Fontana Monday, tying up employees and fleeing with an undisclosed amount of cash. While one of the men remains unidentified, authorities have released the following sketch of the other suspect.

By now everyone has read and rightfully snickered over and linked the big Sunday Times Tom Cruise Scientology piece. On top of the big laughs contained in the article itself, an extra dash of (unintentional?) comedy was sprinkled on top when an early online release displayed it alongside a Microsoft ad featuring–you guessed it–giant lizards.

As we all know from Scientology secret doctrine, the mighty Xenu who ruled our galaxy 95,000,000 years ago was a giant alien lizard of sorts. They’ll deny it and say it’s a random ad, but you have to think the Times advertising dept. was taking the piss with this juxtaposition. And for that we say nice one.

On a related note, South Park’s recent take on Xenu was pretty good, if a little more “alien” than “lizard” for my taste.

losanjealous welcomes Nomar Garciaparra to the decaying shell of a baseball team that was once the Dodgers.

Nomar (N0-MAH), a native of Whittier, will join new acquision Rafael Furcal and All Star Cesar Izturis to complete the Dodgers’ revolutionary new 3-Shortstops infield.

Visit our concert calendar for a full show list, links to buy tickets and our picks.

***Recommended Show of the Week***
Rogue Wave @ Troubadour
Rogue Wave puts on a great live show. But there will be a point Tuesday at the Troubadour when lead singer Zach Rogue will remove his knit cap and reveal some serious male pattern baldness. It will distract you for the rest of the night. He could be singing like Placido Domingo but all you’ll see is dome.

Get tickets now: Editors @ Spaceland; Calexico @ Barnsdall Gallery Theatre; Les Savy Fav @ Avalon

MONDAY
She Wants Revenge @ Troubadour
Queens of the Stone Age @ Wiltern
Social Distortion @ House of Blues
Eleni Mandell @ Tangier

TUESDAY
Queens of the Stone Age @ Wiltern
Rogue Wave @ Troubadour
Ozomatli @ House of Blues

WEDNESDAY
Ozomatli @ House of Blues
John Doe @ Largo
Eagles of Death Metal, Har Mar Superstar @ Troubadour

THURSDAY
Calexico, Lila Downs @ Disney Concert Hall

FRIDAY
Vandals @ House of Blues
Phunk Phamily Affair @ Knitting Factory

SATURDAY
Sound Lessons @ Echo

SUNDAY
Surprise b-day party for Jesus

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Title pretty much says it all. 4th and Hill, 16 December 2005. Pigeons running rampant. Call them what you will: Filthy disease-carrying pests, swooping, waddling, loud, obnoxious flying rats. I may have once considered buying Terror Eyes to get them off my balcony, but I maintain they’re nowhere near as bad as gulls, which are downright bullies and thieves. I’ve seen gulls tear people’s beach bags apart. I’ve seen them eat and steal more food than any other type of bird. True story from my beach-dwelling days: I felt a hunger inside. Went to Tommy’s at Pico and Lincoln, Santa Monica. Ordered up some chili fries. You’ll recall Tommy’s is a good eight blocks from the shore, but like the homeless waifs that seem drawn to this particular corner, the gulls always know where food can be found. I placed my fries on a table. Turned around and walked literally two feet for a napkin and hot pepper. Turned back around to witness a gull with his beak buried. Buried, buried, in my fries. Beak rooting and digging into the chili, totally engrossed, totally having his way with my his food. Fuck you, gull. Fuck you all. These downtown pigeons are ok in my book.

Bonus Pigeons: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

When I was growing up the tradition in my family is that we always got our Christmas tree on my birthday – December 20th, and I got to pick it out. When I was in first grade my parents cut loose and actually let me pick out a flocked tree. Getting a flocked tree is Southern California’s version of having a white Christmas.

We didn’t put lights on it because my worrywart mother was afraid it would catch on fire and burn the house down. Is flocking flammable? We never got one again. But every year, without fail, I dream of having a flocked tree. So this year, darn it, I’ve made up my mind – I’m going to get one! I’m not talking about the ordinary Christmas tree lot variety – a white one – oh no! Been there done that! I want a tree flocked in color – turquoise would be my first choice but I would gleefully settle for mint green, periwinkle blue, lavender, peach or pink.
And that brings me to this week’s slide taken at the

ALCOA ALUMINUM COMPANY, LOS ANGELES, 1955.
Nine lovely lady employees are beautifully uniformed in classic shirtwaist dresses in one of two shades of blue-bright and light. Their white collars, cuffs and breast-pocket trim match the winter white coveralls that the lone gentleman wears so well with black shoes and socks. In the foreground a brown paper bag, probably with someone’s lunch in it, sits on a stained wood desk. In the background a honey blond wood paneled wall and a variety of glossy green houseplants. The centerpiece is unlike any Christmas tree I’ve ever had the joy of seeing. It’s not only flocked, it’s flocked in two-tone pink. The higher it goes the pinker it gets! Christmas inspires so much creativity.

In a half-dozen online dictionaries I looked up flock and not one of them had a definition that had anything to do with a flocked Christmas tree. Flocking is a rare thing. In fact there aren’t a lot of flocked things in this world. Paper must’ve been the thing that was flocked – wallpaper. And God knows we all love flocked wallpaper – especially flocked foil wallpaper! Besides the occasional flocked Christmas tree and fancy flocked wallpaper the only other flocked thing that I can think of are those little bobber-head dogs that people used to have on the package tray between the back seat and the back window of their car.

What is the history of flocking anyway? Who flocked the first tree? We rarely do the flocking ourselves. We let someone else flock for us. But for those who do want to flock themselves you can you can get a can of flock. Yes, flocking comes in an aerosol can. Oh, then that must mean that flocked trees are bad for the ozone? So we wear sun block on the 4th of July so we can have a flocked tree for Christmas.

Here’s to Flocking and you!
Charles Phoenix

Visit Charles’ site, God Bless Americana, or join his Yahoo Group.

(Note: This is the second iteration of losanjealous’ Ma Dang Gook Soo restaurant review. Read the first here. –ed.)

Indeed Ryan is right when he restated (sic) how I don’t like Korean food. I mean, I like the popular standards of kalbi (galbi) and bulgogi, and I like the occasional side dish that are like free appetizers (panchan –ed.), especially the sliced hot dogs in ketchup served with sesame seeds served specifically at the Korean restaurant next door to my old workplace on Wilshire and Harvard where there is a Japanese or is it Korean school room theme, I digress. (??? –ed.)

The clam soup noodle dish was good. (Gook soo –ed.) Definitely not bad, and it was better than Ryan’s sweet Asian spaghetti dish with other strange flavors in it. I’m a hot food eater, if I had the choice between a cold sandwich and one with melted cheese, I’d choose the melted cheese. More flavors come out when the food is heated. Just like my baked goods, I’d rather have a warm brownie or cookie more so than a room temperature one. Apologies, I digress even further.
»continue reading Profile: Ma Dang Gook Soo, aka Intern Does Not Contest Ryan’s Beratement / Review

As the development surrounding it nears completion, the once-thriving Jay’s Jayburger shack remains standing, hoping beyond hope to one day again be able to serve up steaming egg-and-chili-topped midnight masterpieces to drunken eastsiders.

If you, like me, were a latchkey kid in the LA area in the 80s, you may well have passed more than a few, or perhaps a few hundred, post-school afternoons watching cartoons. I spent countless blissful hours of my tender youth vegetating in this manner, but if you asked me to recount the plot of a single Voltron or G.I. Joe episode, I’d draw a blank (except for the Scooby-Doo where Phyllis Diller guest-starred).

What do I remember? The commercials. Not all of them of course, but the really good ones, the ones with the themes and the jingles that bring back the smoggy-lunged, air conditioned, TV-brainmushed afternoons like they were yesterday. And to my surprise, I found that I’m not alone in this. I went to college on the east coast, and whenever I ran into anyone from southern California, all I had to do was sing a few bars of the Pete Ellis Dodge jingle and baby – we had a stew goin’. Instant cultural camaraderie – like the ethnicity I always wanted but never had.

I’ll begin with perhaps the most famous and beloved of all these commercials, the Cal Worthington genre. Cal is a car-selling cowboy; the closest visual equivalent I can think of is the Sam Elliott character in Lebowski. Cal was a throwback to the days when California still had a bit of a wild-west aesthetic, though why he bought ad space for his several Ford dealerships during children’s cartoons remains unclear to me.

The genius of the Worthington commercials was severalfold. First was their jingle – a simply and catchy tune that wormed its way into your head like a weevil, based on its uncanny similarity to the camp ditty “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” Even trickier was his lyrical sleight of hand. The song’s chorus “Go see Cal” was often replaced with the sound-alike nonsense phrase “Pussycow” so that impressionable young viewers such as myself were titillated. Did Cal just say “pussy”? Is there something adult-themed going on at Worthington Ford? I swore years ago to find out, but never got around to it.

The Cal Worthington commercials stuck in the adolescent brain also thanks to their thematic bait-and-switch. The introduction to these ads invariably promised “Cal Worthington and his dog Spot”yet the animal accompanying Cal was never a dog. It was an elephant, a tiger, a goat, or some other god-forsaken fauna, but the promised dog never materialized. Watching these ads as a nine-year-old, I first realized: grownups are filthy, filthy liars.

To be fair to Cal, though, making these commercials was hard work, because showbiz animals, like human actors, piss all over you. The difference is that with animals it’s not merely a euphemism. Cal braved both a mighty geyser of elephant urine and a close-up stream of baby-goat whiz to bring us these classic ads. Thanks pardner. And for what it’s worth, Cal’s business still appears to be going strong, and while I may have an unhealthy obsession with the guy, at least I’m not as stalker-y as the person who created this cyberhagiography.