#15: The Starbucks at Hollywood & McCadden

I hate Halloween. It’s totally commercial now. It’s like the middle of April and you’re already seeing ads for Halloween. I’m sick of it.

I’m joking!!! I love Halloween!!! But I’m having trouble putting the finishing touches on my costume. Take a serious guess what I’m going to be for Halloween. Seriously. You’ll never guess. Don’t guess. Okay guess. . .I’m going to be a pimp!!! Whassup y’all, I am a pimp. Better pay me my money bitch or I am going to kick you in the pussy! Man, pimps are all that. Now. . .where to find some shitty looking sunglasses and shitty terrycloth bellbottoms and anything else that’s shitty and will break after eight minutes or leave purple stains on my skin and underpants. . . .

While I’m thinking of an answer to that question I have a cup of coffee at the 15th best Starbucks in Los Angeles at Hollywood and McCadden. A few of you (let’s be honest more than a few) will object to the proximity of this store to the one at Hollywood and Highland. The last time I checked this is America. And this store while blocks away has a uniqueness unusual in these parts. A certain je ne say quoi. I will be brief: Good banana bread.

Hollywood never ceases to amaze me when it comes to Halloween. It should be called the land of Halloween. Or Hollowoond. It makes me grow nostalgic. I think of junior high school. I had only two things on my mind back then. Basketball and Halloween. I once drew a picture of the grim reaper dunking a guy’s head through a basketball hoop made of bones. He was sneering as if to say “HA HA HA I’m dunking you and on you” His scythe was drawn with good glare. I was pleased.

OK. I’ve got 10 hours to put together a pimp costume on Hollywood Boulevard. Pray for me. And Happy Halloween.

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

***Recommended Show of the Week***
Roots @ House of Blues
It’s a shame more hip hop acts don’t play their own instruments live. Watching two turntables and a microphone live is just slightly more interesting than catching the same songs being sung on karaoke night at Brass Monkey. The Roots play two shows with real instruments Monday night at the House of Blues.

MONDAY
Roots @ House of Blues (two shows)
400 Blows @ King King

TUESDAY
Atmosphere @ Wiltern
American Analog Set @ Knitting Factory
Magic Numbers @ Troubadour (two shows)

WEDNESDAY
Yerba Buena, Cabas @ House of Blues
Pete Yorn @ Troubadour

THURSDAY
Jon Brion, Nels Cline @ Largo
Boris @ Amoeba (free)

FRIDAY
Metric @ El Rey
Detroit Cobras @ Troubadour
John Santos Quartet @ Getty (free rsvp)
John Vanderslice @ Knitting Factory
Autumns @ Spaceland
English Beat @ Normandie Casino
Fischerspooner DJ Set @ Avalon

SATURDAY
Love Supreme Celebration @ House of Blues
Suicide Girls @ El Rey
Orenda Fink @ Echo
Grant Lee Phillips @ Largo

SUNDAY
Harold Budd @ Barnsdall Gallery Theatre

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Dia de los Muertos. Hollywood. Wonderful, magical night. I have photos to share. While still filled with people, the cemetery seemed less crowded to me than it has been in recent years.

I snapped this bacon-wrapped vendor on the way in, bragging to all about the juiced dogs I’d be eating on the way back to the car in a couple of hours.

Not so fast.

At 11:30pm, the festival is officially over and the remaining families are making their way out of the gates. What should the most important task be for six LAPD black-and-whites, some dozen-odd officers, a fully-equipped LAPD Mobile Booking Office and at least one intimidating helicoptor with crowd-dispersing spotlights?

Shut down the hot dog ladies.

The lady in this photo was surrounded by at least four officers, her cart pushed to the side. She was no longer in business.

Who could have possibly directed this sting operation, and for what reason? The organizers of the festival? A coalition of licensed food vendors inside the cemetery? Did the LAPD take this initiative on its own? There just had to be something more important to do at 11:30 on the Saturday before Halloween than take down a couple of people selling bacon-wrapped hot dogs without a license. »continue reading Busted

The Dog of Hollywood. Western and Hollywood, to be precise. You’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it. It is largely unclear when this famous shack served its last hot dog, but one thing is sure: the glorious hot dog on the roof with the assortment of filthy cubes that are supposed to be onions is here to stay.

And why wouldn’t it be? If that hot dog disappears, I’m lost in the wilderness of Hollywood. I’d be more disoriented than I was the day the Ships sign suddenly went AWOL. I’d pull up to the corner of Western and Hollywood and have no idea that I was precisely where I intended to arrive; namely, that joyous slice of Western where I can quickly score crack, prostitutes or, ideally, both. I’d have no idea I was mere doors away from the acclaimed Gershwin Hotel. I’d be…I’d be on just another corner. So I say YES! to the hot dog roof. I also say YES to the food the dog-roofed shack currently serves. It’s basic Thai food. It does what it’s supposed to do, and it does what you’d expect it to do. The real draw here is the venue, which gives you two bonuses you might be hard-pressed to find elsewhere in Thai Town or, for that matter, the entire city: One, an incredibly dirty, old papier mache-looking hot dog on the roof. Two, a more-or-less bulletproof-plastic-walled patio that allows your eyes full access to the parade of crazies, druggies and perverts outside. What’s not to love?
»continue reading Profile: Thai Town Express

Every morning at roughly the same time, I would drive by the Ships Diner Sign just south of Olympic on La Cienega. Every day. It mattered not that Ships had closed in 1995; hell, I’d never even eaten there. The place closed way before my time. It mattered only to me that the sign’s legacy lived on. In its way, that sign-without-a-restaurant reassured me that all was normal in my world and that I was once again in my car, late for work, listening to loud music, daubing at coffee stains on trousers, grumbling my way down La Cienega towards the 10, preparing to surrender the boulevard and cut through a few choice alleys before reaching 18th and the ensuing nightmarish congestion invariably surrounding the bizarre Coffee Bean Mcdonald’s* hybrid.

One day this year (I believe early February), I looked up and saw open smog where I expected to see ‘Ships’. The sign had been unceremoniously removed; the pole alone remained. I was shaken. I couldn’t concentrate all day. My workday, usually extremely productive, was written off as a total loss.

Some time later the pole was painted a very drab, chalky grey. Month after month it stood sentry there by itself, advertising nothing, watching silently as an entirely new facade was constructed behind it.

Were Vader writing this article, he might say the circle is now complete. The original pole used to proudly display a classic piece of retro neon for 50 years has been completely reappropriated and now holds a collision repair marquis. Talk to me about recycling the planet and I’ll point you to the Ships signpost. For all I know, these guys went so far as to pound down the remainder of the space-age sign and forge it into somebody’s accordian-crunched Ford Expedition hood. And why not? Bully for them if they did!

One item remains that’s not common knowledge about this whole affair, though: The Jerry Factor. I’ve recently been granted the whole story from the estate of Jerry, so please allow me to elaborate.
»continue reading Photo Op: Ships Signpost

Movieland Wax Museum, Buena Park, 1965

Pale wax movie stars embrace at MOVIELAND WAX MUSEUM, BUENA PARK, 1965. If they had a wick you could burn them. They are practically candles.

I’ll never forget the day in third grade when my friend Kevin Moore turned to me and said “I have so much wax in my ear I could make a candle!” Wax is one of the weirdest things on earth. We burn it, we shine our cars with it, color books with it and for a fee licensed professionals use it to painfully remove unwanted body hair. Wax comes from a wide variety of sources. Honey bees make it and so we– in our ears. And there are those among us who model the substance into life-size figurines that resemble famous people and display them in so-called museums.

MOVIELAND WAX MUSEUM is closing its doors for good after 43 years on October 31, 2005. Silent film star Mary Pickford dedicated the original 300 wax figures at the grand opening in 1962. According to the legend she arrived for the ceremony in the gold Rolls Royce that was parked out front for years.

I haven’t been to the MOVIELAND WAX MUSEUM since 1969. I was six. We took relatives there who were visiting from Oklahoma. They were SO impressed and I was SO proud. But frankly, I don’t remember much about the place except for the nude statues that totally embarrassed me and that oh-so elegant facade.

There is no way this place is gonna close without me seeing all those wax wonders for the last time. I wanna see how they’ve all aged! SO, I’LL BE THERE LATE SUNDAY AFTERNOON HOPING TO RUN INTO YOU!

Movieland Wax Museum is located at 7711 Beach Blvd., in Buena Park, CA, Just one block north from Knott’s Berry Farm, www.movielandwaxmuseum.com

Here’s to MOVIELAND WAX MUSEUM and YOU

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Charles Phoenix

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

Name: Vanessa Etourneau
Height: 5′ 9″
Weight: 125 pounds
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Hazel
Wanted For: Grand Theft Property

Forget the LAPD’s Most Wanted List. Vanessa Etourneau just made my most wanted list. She speaks six languages, dresses sharply and has excellent penmanship (as evidenced by check forgery to the tune of $136K). What’s not to like? Oh yeah, she might steal my shit and skip town.

When Vanessa is caught she will reinforce my stereotype, built from years of movie watching, that all female prisoners are total hotties who take showers all day when they aren’t getting into topless catfights or being mistreated by a corrupt lesbian warden. And of course, a wrongly-imprisoned hottie will eventually orchestrate a dramatic jailbreak (somehow leveraging Vanessa’s language and forgery skills), but not before giving the warden a taste of her own medicine.

More info from the LAPD

It seems that a Brentwood couple, a producer and his screenwriter wife, have drawn the ire of their plastic surgeon neighbor over the planned construction of an elaborate treehouse next door. It seems that the plastic surgeon next door had a problem with the proposed treehouse providing an elevated vantage point which allowed for easy viewing of his hottubbing activities. You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

Reading this story several of the details jump out at you and smack you about the head. First off, dig this:

The builder, Roderick Wolgamott Romero, whose creations cost $50,000 and up, assembled the structure around three eucalyptus trees using reclaimed wood, salvaged windows and vintage stained glass from Buenos Aires. It features a large viewing deck with a railing made from tree branches from the lush backyard.

Set aside the sonorous name of this “renowned” builder of treehouses for a second. Or that he has built one of his treehouses for Sting. Or that Roderick the Treehouse Builder (soon to have his own reality show–contact me) moonlights as the lead singer of the band Sky Cries Mary. YCMTSUF*

This yuppie retro trending back to a simpler time bullshit reaks of a BoBo’s misguided notion of letting their kids be kids in this krazee technology driven world. (You can put the whole American Girl doll phenomenon under this same heading.) Let’s go back to the olden days, you know, when we used to build $50K treehouses with stained glass windows imported from Argentina. Add to this the tiny detail that their kid is currently 18 MONTHS OLD. So it’s a good 8, 9 years before the kid even gets up there. It’s pretty clear who’s childhood is really being bought here.

And this quote from the dad is priceless. No doubt he was the spark in the “Drew Carey” writers’ room:

“We just want to make this a magical place,” said Firestein, whose credits include “The Drew Carey Show” and “In Living Color.” “It’s as if the city has come in and said, ‘We’re outlawing magic.’”

“Outlawing magic,” huh? You have to think that the AP stringer was framing the quote it for maximum absurdity by tucking in his ridiculous TV credits in same line. Well done, AP.

*You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

A second statue shack has been recently spotted on La Brea in mid-city, south of Wilshire and slightly north of San Vicente. It is unknown at press time if this shack is affiliated with Magee’s Donuts Statue Shack on Santa Monica Boulevard. It is also unknown which shack, if either, was chosen to be the famed purveyor of David™s for the House of David™s in Hancock Park. House of David™s would clearly be a gravy account for either shack, to say the least.
At press time it remains a mystery when the southern shack opened its shack doors to the public. In fact very little is known about southern shack whatsoever. This much we do know: The location makes sense. Clearly the South-of-Wilshire area has been in need of a statue shack for some time and the clientele overlap with the original Magee’s Donuts Statue Shack should be minimal, incorporating a small gelatinous slice of Hancock Park and the Miracle Mile.

More details as they are unearthed. Until then, let’s all sing the original Magee’s Statue Shack credo:

Statue Shack! Statue Shack!
You buy-a one statue and you’ll hella-be-back!
Magee’s in your hand, you scour the goods and all the David™s
Purple Moons like charms from Lucky, seven thirty in the mornin’.

Ladies and gents, we give to you the first ever Losanjealous.com Big MP3 Mix. You might call this a “podcast.”

Whatever you call it, you can get it HERE.

It’s about 40 minutes and around 25MB. It’s a pretty quick download on the ol’ broadband, so give it a shot, espeically if you’re at work. If the link dies, let us know.

This first set is culled from tracks by standouts from the week’s concert calendar:

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

***Recommended Show of the Week***
Neil Hamburger @ Knitting Factory
Gregg Turkington is an exceptionally good comedian who plays the character of Neil Hamburger, an exceptionally bad comedian. He’s horrible–you’ll love him. Two shows Friday at the Knit.

MONDAY
East Village Opera Company @ Knitting Factory
Sublime Tribute w/Ozomatli, Fishbone, Blackalicious, Unwritten Law, Members of Sublime @ Henry Fonda

TUESDAY
She Wants Revenge @ Troubadour

WEDNESDAY
Diplo @ UCLA Westwood Plaza (free)
Diplo @ Conga Room
John Cale @ Amoeba (free)
Sun, Apollo Sunshine @ Troubadour
Dramarama @ Tower Sunset (free)
U Roy @ Echo
The Like @ El Rey
Muffs @ Spaceland

THURSDAY
Citizen Cope @ Knitting Factory
Dark Star Orchestra @ El Rey
Fall Out Boy @ Wiltern
Youth Group @ Troubadour
David Garza @ Largo
John Cale @ Royce Hall

FRIDAY
Sage Francis @ Henry Fonda
Bauhaus @ Wiltern
Dengue Fever @ Echo
Neil Hamburger @ Knitting Factory (two shows)
Pretty Girls Make Graves @ Troubadour
Rachel’s @ Knitting Factory
Against Me @ El Rey
Citizen Cope @ Knitting Factory

SATURDAY
Suicidal Tendencies, Germs @ Grand Olympic
Lucero @ Troubadour
Bauhaus @ Wiltern
Braziliando @ Skirball (free)
Against Me! @ Amoeba (free)
88 @ Sea Level Records (free)
Dashboard Confessional @ Dodger Stadium

SUNDAY
Bauhaus @ Wiltern
Cypress Hill @ House of Blues
We Are Scientists @ Troubadour
Goldspot @ Tangier

Get this list delivered to your inbox by joining our Yahoo Group.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

It’s no secret that in my youth I’ve made some questionable choices when it comes time for dinner. It takes a strong stomach to bring you the hard, cold facts regarding porkneck soup, sizzling pork bellies, steaming oki-dogs, philly cheesesteak shacks, all-pudding diets and armenian-salvadorian booze binges. As much as it pains me to say it, I’ve got to look in the mirror and recognize that I’m a man getting on in years. Recently the doctor advised me to watch the diet. Since that day I’ve been watching it well, but not changing a thing about it. Today, I’m starting with the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to make a change. Make no bones about it: my days are numbered in the chilicheese circuit.

That’s where you come in.

Losanjealous is in need of a new food reviewer / gurgitator with an unusually large appetite. Ideal candidate will have strong stomach lining and should be able to eat all manner of food as the need arises. Must have own transportation. Must be willing to submit self to all manner of food-related demands. Previous experience writing about food online preferred but not mandatory. At a minimum you must be able to verbally describe, in detail for transcription, all meals eaten and all aftereffects resulting directly from said meals.

Candidate should be a self-starter and highly motivated. This position has ample opportunity for personal growth and advancement both in physical stomach girth as well as within the losanjealous family. Candidate will ideally be up to speed with all current events of the International Federation of Competetive Eating.

Sample first week’s itinerary follows.
»continue reading WANTED: ChiliCheeseMaster

I found myself near the EDD offices on Crenshaw the other day (don’t ask). While in the area I found a new bank that I’ll be shifting all of my assets to, effective immediately. From the greeters at the front door to the personal booze assistants who guided me through the long-term plans they have for all of my money, I would not hesitate to recommend this bank to anyone. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that an initial investment of $45 yields a considerable amount of Hennessey before investor fees and applicable taxes.

From the bank’s home boozing investment brochure:

The Liquor Bank is one of the city’s largest liquor institutions, serving individual consumers, small businesses and large corporations with a full range of booze, hooch, sauce, juice management and other alcohol and tobacco-related products and services. The company provides unmatched convenience in the city of Los Angeles, serving 11 million alcoholics with 5,700 types of booze, more than 16,000 cans of beer and award-winning online boozing with more than four million active users. The Liquor Bank is the No. 1 Small Business Administration Booze Provider in the city of Los Angeles by the SBABP. The company serves clients in 150 countries and has relationships with 96 percent of the U.S. Fortune 500 companies and 82 percent of the Global Fortune 500. The Liquor Bank (ticker: BOOZ) is listed on the New York Stock Exchange.

Muscle Beach, Santa Monica, 1957

This man is doing the hood ornament pose. Is he feeling cool ocean breezes in places where we don’t ordinarily feel cool ocean breezes?!

Southern California’s obsession with fitness began in the 1930s on Santa Monica’s sunny seashore. According to the legend, out of work actors began gathering there to lift weights while sun tanning and hoping to be discovered by a Hollywood talent scout.

This slide, and many more just like it, was taken by Mr. Sheffield, the drama teacher at San Pedro High School. While showing a slide of him during a slide show he was recognized. A woman screamed out of the audience and said “That’s the drama teacher at San Pedro high School, and I’m the drama teacher there now!” It was a magic moment. So I said “What can you tell us about Mr. Sheffield?” She hesitated for a moment and said “Well, he lived at home with his mother and he never married!”

Here’s to the man feeling cool ocean breezes, Mr. Sheffield and you!

Charles Phoenix,
Los Angeles

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

You’ve got two more weeks to check out the Spider Pavilion at the Natural History Museum. First, you look at the big guys in the little cages. If you’re lucky, one of the workers will pull a couple of the less dangerous ones out to play with/harass. You’ll be told how dangerous a few of the other ones can be. Those will be the ones that you can’t see, instilling a case of mild paranoia within your bones. Following that you’ll walk into the pavilion itself, a giant caged atrium where a reported 300+ spiders are performing all manner of spideryness above and around you. The museum hopes this exhibit will help alleviate the general public’s fears about spiders. On a personal note, I went in not terribly afraid and left feeling more than a little freaked. I think the high-powered air blowers at the entranceway didn’t do much in the way of shaking that feeling. Thank you, robot air blower. You blew three big spiders off my back.

That said, I thoroughly enjoyed it. Definitely worth the trip. A few more photos: Pavilion, Tarantula Belly, Scorpion, Whiplash.

Bonus Photo
Unidentified film project outside the pavilion. Not cops.

Blogcritics.org reminds us that today is the 2nd anniversary of Elliott Smith’s death in his adopted hometown of L.A. (Still no official ruling on the cause of death by the L.A. Coroner’s office.)

Anyone been by the Sound Solutions memorial recently? Here’s a nice gallery of pics from the days just after his death.

Another small gallery of the famous “Figure 8″ wall here.

For all the expansion of the incredibly bland Hotel Cafe coffeehouse singer-songwriter scene, there is no one around town these days really filling his void. Not that anyone really can.

Just last week, a great batch of unreleased Elliott Smith tunes were floated onto the Web. Many of them are from the last set of tunes he wrote. www.elliottsmithbsides.com provides the current link where you can get them all in one shot.

For more info, check out his official unofficial website.

• George Bush to fuck shit up again, locally, later today. Thanks, G.W. Good thing no one drives the 405. Between 4 and 9 p.m. On a weekday.

From KNAC.com and Chris Impellitteri’s site:

“I am currently writing and recording music with my new Los Angeles based metal band. This will be the first official band I have actually joined. The music is definitely metal; and yes there are lots of Impellitteri shredding solos! However, the difference between my new band and Impellitteri is the fact that I am just the lead guitarist as opposed to the leader of the group. Furthermore, I am excited to be part of this new band to see if we can build something special for the metal community. If all goes well we should have some new music by next summer and the official name of the band.”

• Somewhere in SuBurbank, Gary Marshall is planning a live stage production of “Happy Days”. Let it go already, Gary. Seriously–let it go. “Happy Days” was never really any good, don’t let nostalgia and money make you think otherwise.

• Wal-Mart heiress pays someone to do her homework at USC. Typical Trojan.

• The manager-less Dodgers get busy and announce… renovations to stadium seating. No word on renovations to the lineup that finished the season 71-91.

• Apparently there was something L.A.-based called www.MP3downloadcity.com. It has been shut down. I never heard of it either. But I’m sure Soulseek welcomes its users with open arms.

• Steve Martin to reveal “inevitable loneliness in sprawling Los Angeles” with “Shopgirl.” Great. Just what we needed. Save the snide, patronizing “insights” for the back pages of The New Yorker, Steve-o. We know who we are and don’t need you telling us.

• Ryan Seacrest: WeHo’s “Queen for a Day” this Halloween. [I don't think so--Ed.]

• Panda Express to donate bicycles, helmets, orange chicken, broccoli beef to area students.

• Tut is still here?

Disclaimer: While the people in this story are imaginary, the places are very real. All three offer some form of escape. I encourage you to visit each establishment just as soon as your busy Angeleno schedule allows.

You are visiting your aunt and uncle in Losanjealous for the winter. The weather is unbelievable! The surf is up and the girls are out. If only the kids back home could see you now. Life couldn’t be better! But one day, clouds roll in. The temperature drops and the sky looks suddenly menacing. A few raindrops hit your surfboard. Before you know it, the rain’s coming down in torrents. Shucks! Just your luck! Last year, the rainy season lasted nearly five months. Before it was all over you’d read more Homer, Proust and Shakespeare than most literature professors read in a lifetime, and you’d watched more unrated Andrew Stevens movies with your uncle than most adolescents watch in two lifetimes. One day in a fit of manic cabin fever you suddenly carved two fingers straight off your left hand with a paring knife. You aren’t about to sit through that much rain again!

The next morning you set out, determined to take charge of your situation. If it’s going to rain, you’re determined to hole up in a very dark, warm place, as sloshed as humanly possible, listening to slack-key guitar and ruminating with big-bellied men in hawaiian shirts about balmy tropical breezes and chattery monkeys. Damn it you’re going to get your tiki on, but proper.

You begin haunting the local tiki watering holes, striking up idle conversations with crusty ‘Don the Beachcomber’ holdouts at Duke’s, Tiki Ti and Trader Vic’s. At each location you run across a mysterious man with a peeling sunburn and a dark combover. “A tiki fan. I see we’re looking for the same thing, my friend,” he purrs one evening. You can barely hear his oiled voice over the crackled ukelele strains emitting from the hi-fi. “Oceanic Arts is where you should begin. Care to split a cab?”

The man looks shifty as all get out, but you’ve had two flaming zombies. You agree to split the cost of a cab to Whittier.

…continue reading on page 49…

After 43 years Movieland Wax Museum announced it will be closing at the end of the month. What drove the museum out of business?

• Maintenance costs of picking wax from museum carpets out of control
• Visitors would rather spend $15 admission on Medieval Times royalty package upgrade
• High budget Sister Act movie set inexplicably failed to draw crowds after 1992
• Management investing in more profitable Movieland Brazilian Wax Salon
• Tourists finally began figuring out Buena Park is not actually Movieland
• Authorities too close to discovering why the figures look so real
• Wax figures of antiquated celebrities simply uninteresting

Why else is Movieland Wax Museum closing?

#16: the Starbucks at the Torrance Crossroads

Before I launch feet-first into a review that should dazzle and bewilder all my readers and fans, I need to address some issues from a few people who—while they may be readers—are definitely not fans. Unless you mean ceiling fans, because they seek to blow their hot convective current of opinion on my articles from above. (Nice one DeMarco. Thanks DeMarco.) These self-appointed geographammarians have pointed out that the picture accompanying the column“isn’t a picture of LA. If you’re going to write a column called Bill DeMarco’s LA then why are you using a [expletive] picture of New York?”

Whooooooooa! Hope nobody had a seizure. Christ. I’m a passionate guy and sometimes my lust for perfectly roasted beans gets in the way of what are called facts. That said—and if my guy in the arts department was able to put down his Red Bull and bourbon for two seconds—you logic-hounds will find that the new picture is indeed Los Angeles. Can we get on with our lives? (As long as I’m venting you know what phrase I can’t stand? “At the behest of”)

Where was I? Right. Torrance. That’s spelled with a “T” and that rhymes with “B” and that stands for “Beans.” Right here in Torrance city. But the difference is there’s going to be trouble if I DON’T get any coffee right? That’s why it’s different from pool. I’m the coffee man. Not the music man. Fortunately this Starbucks nestled deep in the mesa-style Torrance Crossroads makes some of the finest coffee south-west of Sepulveda Boulevard. The espresso hits you like a scorching poker chip and their seasonal pumpkin latte shows no signs of novelty affectation. (I might recommend that they give the drink a more memorable name like ‘Pumpin’ Pumpkin’)

And I begin to wonder about the crossroads, where they used to hang thieves, queens, and in-betweens. Where a crazy old kraut found the devil himself and asked him for the hand of a lady. Me? I’ve had as many ladies as lattes so if I gamble with Old Scratch, it’ll be penny bets. I’d look him in that red ol’ eye of his and say, I’ve had this notion in the back of my head and I wonder if you’d oblige. I take out my fiddle, tighten my bow, put it to my chin and ask him:

“Pimpin’ Pumpkin. Do you think it’s viable?”