Death And A Six Pack

Nothing says "Happy Halloween" like a "Fall Festival", but that's what all the evangelical churches are offering as a "wholesome alternative" to all the demonic actual fun. There's one right around the corner and boy does it look like fun. What a bunch of killjoys.

I was pleasantly surprised to see Jim had a change of heart. Over the weekend a mini display appeared, featuring his inflatable Grim Reaper with the traditional scythe and case of beer. I believe that's the same beer his inflatable Turkey usually sports at Thanksgiving. I detect an emerging theme...

Sunday Inspiration

Doggie Downer

We so rarely go out at night it was a real treat to leave the house last night.

Unfortunately it was to go to emergency vet.

My little dog started limping on one of her rear legs yesterday afternoon and by the time the boyfriend got home she was walking around like "Tripod, the Three Legged Dog", refusing to put any weight on it at all. It wasn't long before she stopped trying to walk at all, so we all piled into the car for a trip to the vet. We took the other dog only because they've never been apart and we wanted to avoid any tsuris.

The vet said she may have popped her knee out of place and proceeded to pop it in and out of it's socket to demonstrate. I thought I was going to pass out.

He said it may clear up on it's own and sent us home with some doggie painkillers.

I have to say this was one experience where living in Hooterville has it's advantages. The last time we had to take one of the dogs to the ER in LA, it turned into an all-night ordeal and we left there close to $1000 poorer. This time we were in and out in less than an hour and it only cost $100.

It struck me that the dogs now get better health care than I do.

Björktime

A little more than an hour after I wrote my last post I received a phone call.

From Björk.

In Iceland.

That isn't her real name. She isn't even Icelandic, she's American. But for the purposes of this blog, she will remain Björk. And she's really quite nice. We hit it off famously.

The story is that she is my client's longtime and most trusted PR person. She happened to meet and fall in love with an Icelandic gentleman. He works for a technology company that's based in Reykjavík with offices in LA and he splits his year between the two cities, six months in each. They married in June and spent the summer and early Fall in LA and now they've moved back to Iceland for the Winter. If you ask me, that seems a little backward but what do I know. I'm no Icelandic computer genius.

It was nearly midnight in Reykjavík, a point she made more than once. She was calling to discuss some upcoming projects. My client, her boss, is a very busy person and he had decided to take himself out of the loop on the next several projects and let Björk and I hash out all the details. And she wanted to talk schedules.

It seems she's just as demoralized by the wacky hours since she's been trying to work on LA time for the past several weeks. It means she rarely hears anything before mid-afternoon and then ends up working into the wee hours of the morning.

"I'd prefer not to have to work after 8pm" she said.

And I'd rather not have to work before 8am I replied.

So we've coordinated so that we can get done what we need to get done between 8am and 1pm my time, 3pm and 8pm for her.

I call it "Björktime."

We'll see how it goes. My luck scheduling clients has been less than stellar lately. The "best laid plans" and all that. But I'm hopeful.

Global Village Idiots

How do you say "Fuck You" in Icelandic? That's the question on my mind today.

I had seen the boyfriend off to work this morning and then spent some quality time with the dogs. Shortly after 7am, my cell phone rang. I saw from the number it was my Number One client, the guy in LA who, for better or worse, has been paying the bills around here for the past six months. I answered the phone.

"Why aren't you returning my e-mails?" he said.

I was a little dumbfounded. I always check my e-mail before I go to bed and there hadn't been anything.

So I loped to computer and sure enough, there were half a dozen emails from him. The first contained the copy I'd need for the project.

And it was timestamped 4:51.

AM.

The second was to confirm I'd gotten the materials. It was sent at 5:20. AM.

Then follow-up e-mails at 5:45, 6:10, 6:35 and finally at 6:55, the final one...

'I"M CALLING YOU".

And here he was, calling me.

Now I've had clients half a world away, one in Australia for instance. So I know what it's like to be working off schedule. But that wasn't the case here. He's in fucking Sherman Oaks.

He asked me why I hadn't responded. I don't know.... maybe because the sun hadn't come up yet?

That was neither here nor there to him, he needed this project done pronto and he needed to see something by 10am.

I wasn't sure what the deal was because he's really been quite reasonable up until now. I informed him that there was no way to get something showable in a couple of hours. He wasn't happy to hear that and said my absolute drop dead deadline was 1pm.

Even though he sounded irritated, I just had to know.... what was the sudden fucking rush?

"I need to run it past my new PR person. And she's in Iceland."

My first thought was "why would anyone be working if they were on vacation... in Iceland?" But it turns out, his new PR person wasn't on vacation in Iceland.

She lives there.

He hired an Icelandic PR person.

"She's seven hours ahead and she has dinner plans, so the sooner the better."

Oh, OK, sure. Wouldn't want to make Björk miss her fucking dinner plans.

"From now on, we're going to have to adjust and work around her schedule" he continued.

Who's this "we" you speak of Kimosabe?

But the truth of the matter is there isn't anything I can do about it. I've become his go-to guy for graphics and his company is taking off and my hope was to hitch a ride on his coattails all the way back to LA. I can't say no, and the whole thing has left me demoralized.

It's felt for years like we were quickly sliding into digital serfdom, expected to be tethered to some sort of device 24/7. I've actually been enjoying the drive into LA to teach because for a few precious hours I was off the computer and out of the house. That's not to say I don't get e-mails and texts and calls while I'm on the road, but it's nice not being able to do anything about it. That's simply unacceptable in this day and age.

I've had clients send things at 1am, furious they haven't received anything back by 6. I had a client incredulous when he called on a Sunday and I wasn't home and available for revisions. Clients text me on Christmas. Or Thanksgiving. I find myself feeling guilty for having what little personal life I still have left.

But.... whatya gonna do? That's just how it these days.

And now we can add "Icelandic Overlords" to the list.

Oh my.... look at the time. I's nearly 10:30 in Reykjavík. I should be getting to bed.

That 70’s Show

If you loved the 70's you would probably like Bako. It's a city frozen in amber.

Actually, it's more like Harvest Gold.

And Burnt Orange.

And Avocado Green.

And if you loved the 70's, tonight's your night.

One night only... JUDAS PRIEST!

ROCK ON, BAKO!

Curiosity Shop

I had been intrigued the first time I stumbled across it. I was actually surprised they had one here, although in hindsight, I don't know why. I couldn't check it out at that time, but planned to the next time I found myself in the neighborhood. Yet every time I was nearby and had the time, I lost my nerve.

Until Saturday.

I'm talking about Bakersfield's only Adult Book Store.

I discovered it shortly after I started this blog. I was downtown on a little photo safari, getting the shots that rotate across the top, and as I rounded a corner, there it was...

"The 19th Street Cinema".

"19th Street", because that's where it's located. "Cinema", because it sounds classy.

It's in a seedy part of downtown. Scratch that... "seed-ier". Even so, Bako's downtown is so small it's just a hop, skip and a jump to the police station, which is probably convenient.

The reason I hadn't checked it out until now wasn't due to shame. I'm gay, and we gays have no shame when it comes to porn. In West Hollywood, the porn stars are treated like royalty. No, the reason it took me so long was two-fold. First was the gauntlet of unsavory looking people that always seem to be milling about out in front. That very first time I was lugging a big (and expensive) camera, so it didn't seem like the best time. Plus, I can only imagine that someone walking in with a camera wouldn't be too welcome. Second is just the petty small town nature of this place. I'd seen how gossip spreads like wildfire and with my recent luck I figured I'd walk out just as one of my clients drove by.

It was Saturday and the boyfriend had to work. I found myself with an errand to run downtown and as I passed 19th Street, I noted that it was completely deserted. It was 10:30. A blinking neon sign signaled the store was open and I thought to myself, "if not now, when?"

First off, it's much larger than it looks from the street. The store is about evenly divided between the showroom of merchandise up front and the "cinema" in back. "Cinema" indeed. It's nothing more than a couple of rows of grimy looking booths showing flickering porn on ancient monitors. Even though I was the only person in the store, I didn't feel the need to check out the back. Wouldn't want to catch anything.

It was only me and the store's two employees, an amped up speed freak behind an elevated counter in the center of the room, and a burned out ZZ Top refugee kicked back asleep in a folding chair against a side wall. There was a third person, a shady looking guy loitering near the booths. I assumed he was a local looking for some action, but it turned out he was what passed for "security".

I've seen some sorry looking porn stores in my day, but this one really takes the cake, starting with the merchandise. The porn was third rate, at best. It all looked like it was old cast-offs and remainders from other stores, probably purchased in bulk. But worse than that was the way it was displayed. Dozens of waist high display cases, like you'd seen in a department store, were each full to the brim with DVDs stacked on their sides with only their spines showing. How the hell are you supposed to peruse the titles? So I asked.

"Tell us which case you want to look in and we'll come and unlock it and take them out so you can look through them."

Really? Like you're selling fine jewelry? And you're going to hover over me while I make my porn decisions? That seems worse than awkward.

As I said, I have no shame and besides, there was no one around, so I asked if they had a gay section.

"It's all kind of mixed together" the cashier said.

Well that's just great.

So not only would I have to look through all the porn with a methhead looming over me, I'd also have to sort through all straight porn to do it. How many MILFs, cross-dressers, trannies, titfuckers, backdoor maids and naughty schoolgirls would I have shuffle through before I found "Prison Gangbang 6"? It would be like a needle in a haystack.

Luckily, I wasn't there to shop, only observe.

I believe you can tell a lot about a town by it's adult book store, and based on what I saw I think it's safe to say that behind closed doors, Bako lets it's freak flag fly. It wasn't so much the awful selection of porn.

It was the dildos.

Every wall in the room was covered in dildos.

And not just the walls.

They were hanging from the ceiling!

There must have been hundreds of them, all shapes and sizes, and let me tell you, it's a little unsettling having that many dildos dangling over your head. I'm not sure what that says about the women of Bako. Actually, I think it probably says more about the men, if you know what I mean. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

At that point, I'd seen enough. The staff seemed less than pleased as I left without purchasing anything. And sure enough, as I walked through the door, I walked back onto a street that was now bustling with people. There hadn't been a soul around when I walked into the store, but ten minutes later it was now a beehive of activity and everyone turned and stared at me as I emerged from the store. Including the cops, slowly driving by in their cruiser.

I think it's safe to say, I won't be back. If I find myself in the future with some unexpected porn needs, I'll just wait until I'm in LA to take care of it. I wouldn't want to risk being tagged with a "Scarlet P".

Sunday Inspiration

Financial Planning

I just saw this story about a man who robbed a bank and then turned himself in so that he would have someplace to stay and hot meals.

That is just tragic.

And also brilliant!

Just the type of "out-of-the-box" thinking needed in this new economy.

I think I just found my retirement plan.

Beats the old one... winning the lottery. That was just crazy.

The only foreseeable problem is that if you Google the story you'll see there are dozens of cases like this. It's all the rage. I'm afraid that when I get to that age, there won't be any more space.

Maybe I should start thinking of "early retirement".

Culture Clash

One of the enduring mysteries of Bakersfield is how one of the most xenophobic areas of the country ended up with such a large Hindu and Muslim population. It is beyond bizarre.

People are always on the news railing against "the illegals" or "terrorists", and yet in day to day life everyone seems to play nice. Maybe it's out of necessity... without the Pakistanis there'd be no doctors here.

And yet, occasionally, cultures clash.

I had to run an errand outside of town this morning and on the way back traffic slowed to a crawl, a huge block of cars going 40, if that. Eventually I managed to work my way up to the front of the pack and discovered what the problem was.

A late model Corolla was weaving wildly between the first, second and third lanes, going only about 35 or 40 miles per hour. It was banged all to hell and every time it weaved to the right, several cars were able to zoom by in the fast lane. What the hell was going on, I thought, but then I got a look at the driver.

A Muslim woman. I'm assuming it was a woman but there was no way to be sure. She was completely covered with a hijab, the full body shroud devout Muslim woman wear. One would presume it had a eye slit, but I couldn't see it and I wasn't going to stick around to find out. As she started weaving back in my direction I punched the gas.

I can't imagine she has a license. Since devout woman never go out in public uncovered, I'm assuming she would've had to take the driving test dressed the same way. Or maybe they just have different standards here. Maybe the Bako DMV has a category labeled "Close Enough."

Armageddon Two: Electric Boogaloo

How time flies!

You may remember back in May the world was supposed to end.

On the 21st, to be exact.

Clearly, that didn't happen.

But the lunatics who promoted it assured everyone it was just a miscalculation and was still going to happen... on October 21st!

TOMORROWWWWWW!!!!!!!

I thought I put that in my calendar, but I guess not. Good thing I remembered.

I should probably run to the store, just in case. What should you get for Armageddon? Other than liquor and sun block... I should make a list...

Told 'Ya So

I think we could've seen THIS coming...

When I wrote THIS.

What to say...

*******

Speaking of which...

The Demonic Ice Cream Truck still trawls the neighborhood, always at four o'clock. At our old rental, my office was in the back and I rarely heard it, if I heard it at all.

But here, my office is at the corner of a corner lot and it's turned into my Big Ben.

That's how I know when to feed the dogs.

Hopey Changey

You know we're headed over the cliff into another presidential election year when the bumper stickers start popping up and recently I've started seeing a bunch of them.

But here's the thing...

They've all been "Obama 2012".

That's just kooky.

In Kern County? Where Republican outnumber Democrats 2 to 1?

But that's what I've observed. I haven't seen a single Republican one. Granted, they haven't settled on a nominee yet and I don't envy them the task of picking one. It's like a rodeo with nothing but clowns. But still.

I don't even see many Anti-Obama stickers anymore. When we first moved here, they were everywhere, which I found strange since the guy had only been in office 6 months.

I don't know what to make of it, if anything.

According to the media, Obama is on the ropes and the country has turned on him. Perhaps that isn't really the case.

Or maybe everyone just has new cars.

If A Tree Falls In The Forest...

They have an interesting interpretation of "tree trimming" here.

It basically involves reducing all the trees to telephone poles.

It's almost as if the mere thought of natural beauty offends them.

I don't get it.

The Mysteries Of Fall

The moon is full and a slight breeze rustles the turning leaves. There's a brisk chill to the Autumn air, and one's thoughts turn to... frogs.

Yup. Frogs. Or maybe they're toads. Who the fuck can tell the difference.

And I was just thinking "My goodness it's be awhile since we've had any pestilence or plagues" and now we have it... frogs.

The dogs found them first. Of course they would. I'd let them into the backyard last Thursday evening and a short while later heard some sort of commotion. When I went to investigate I saw my older dog rummaging around behind one of the patio chairs and he emerged with what I thought was a chew toy. He ran around in circles in the yard, thrashing his head back and forth before finally tossing it into the air. It landed with a dull thud and I went to check it out and that's when I saw it wasn't a toy.

Glistening in the moonlight was a hockey puck sized frog.

I looked at my dog, who was now drooling and frothing at the mouth like Cujo. I'm guessing the frogs defense mechanism is a nasty tasting slime which causes predators to give up while the giving is good. Unfortunately, dogs apparently have no short term memory, and before I knew it he was coming back for a second pass.

The frog was alive and intact, but more than likely a little stunned. I grabbed a nearby rake and covered the frog to protect it, and when my dog retreated I flipped the rake over and scooped up the frog and flung it over the fence into the yard of the now empty house next door.

But now the dogs are obsessed. The frogs drive them absolutely berserk. Leads me to believe there's something to that whole "getting high by licking frogs" urban legend. If they're let into the yard after dark, they immediately go on the hunt like pigs after truffles. They don't eat the frogs, at least I don't think they do. They're just after the high and the challenge. I've rescued about half a dozen frogs with my rake technique and I've really gotten quite adept at it. It's like "Frog Jai Alai".

Where do the frogs come from? Beats the hell out of me. I was under the impression they inhabited wetter environments and Bakersfield is a desert. The only bodies of water for 50 miles are the irrigation canals and I would think they had filters on them to keep the frogs from mucking up the works. And even if that is the source, the nearest one to the house is a mile away and across several busy streets. It just goes to show you you should never doubt the persistence of the pests of Bako.

The frogs magically appear only at night; where they go during the day is a mystery. Trust me, the dogs look for them. It's gotten so bad we now don't let the dogs out back after dark.

I tell myself "This too shall pass." I say that a lot here. They really should make that the city motto.

Hollow-een

We didn't end up decorating the house for Halloween after all. As Jim so eloquently put it, we're just not feelin' it this year and we're not doin' shit.

Besides, no one else in the neighborhood is doin' shit either. One house plopped a giant inflatable ghost in the middle of their yard. but they never turn it on, so it sits in a heap looking like a dead body. Which I suppose works just as well as Halloween decor. Another house has a pumpkin, but other than that... nada.

I'd read reports that sales of Halloween paraphernalia now rival those for Christmas, but not here. Halloween just isn't a big deal here. I chalk it up to lazy religious zealotry.

Speaking of Jim, I grew alarmed yesterday when I walked the dogs and noticed all his Exterior Decorations were gone. Although he vowed not to decorate for Halloween, that doesn't mean the house was unadorned. He still maintained what I consider his "baseline" collection: The potted plants and plastic chickens and metal frogs hanging from the trees, the giant metal grasshopper, the miniature Arc de Triomphe, the 49th banners and Happy Hour sign, the sculpture of the frog bar-b-queuing, the gargoyles, the sun and moon wall hangings and the flock of wooden seagulls. But yesterday it was all gone.

A couple of months back I had spoken to his father. He mentioned that he was getting ready to retire from Walmart and that he and his partner were considering moving. I was afraid this was the first sign that they were selling the house. But then I saw Jim this morning and asked him what was up and he said it was nothing more than the heavy fist of the Home Owners Association coming down hard and forcing him to clean up the yard. He seemed like a broken man, and I have to say some of the joy of the neighborhood is now gone.

Sunday Inspiration

To Sir, With Love

The first week of school went off without a hitch. The first twenty minutes of class were kind of nerve-wracking. It's been fifteen years since I last taught and back then I was much closer in age to the students. Now I felt like Grandpa Walton. I quickly discovered it's a fine line to walk, not appearing to be too old and irrelevant, but also not trying too hard to appear hip and cool. I could feel myself flop sweating as the students sat there stonefaced. I was beginning to wonder what exactly I'd gotten myself into, but then I cracked a joke that the kids actually laughed at and soon the mood lightened and we all loosened up.

The biggest adjustment was just to the technology. Everything is done digitally and online now. I sit at the back of the class at a computer where everything I do is projected digitally on the far wall. The kids all sit in front of computer monitors and I can't even see most of them. There's something strange about an art school with no art supplies and I have to admit I miss the smell of oil paint. But at least the kids don't have to lug around massive tool boxes of supplies like we had to.

The drive in from Bako was pretty effortless but I still questioned the wisdom of the commute. But then I met another instructor who drives in from Palm Springs, and while his mileage is less than me, with traffic his drive is about an hour longer, so I don't feel so bad anymore.

The drive home seemed easy too. Suspiciously easy. I left school at 8:30 and by 9 I was at the fringe of LA, in Castaic at the base of the Grapevine. I called the boyfriend to tell him I'd be home in about an hour, which is what it usually takes from that point. I hadn't gone more than about a mile when I spied a long string of red lights up ahead. I knew then my luck had run out. A semi had jack-knifed up ahead, and for the next hour I crawled up the mountain so slowly it didn't even register on the speedometer. Once past the crash site, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way.

I arrived back in Bako around 10:45 and it was an absolute ghost town. We almost never go out here at night and even when we do occasionally go out to dinner, you can practically see the city closing up shop around 9. Even knowing that, I was taken aback by just how abandoned the whole city looked. It was more than a little creepy to be driving down empty streets, past houses and apartments without so much as a nightlight on.

It is a bit of a mindfuck going from the wasteland of Bakersfield to the skyscraper canyons on Downtown LA, with all the hustle and bustle and... life. And then, sadly, back again.

In Memoriam

Bakersfield mourns the passing of local legend Charles Napier. He was a character actor you've no doubt seen in countless movies and TV shows. My personal favorite was his turn on the original "Star Trek"...



He passed away the same day as Steve Jobs, so the news was a little lost in the shuffle. He was 75.

He was the biggest celebrity to call Bako home and he was a fixture at many local events.

His funeral was yesterday and I only caught it on the news this morning.

At one point the reporter was interviewing his son and asked why his father chose to settle in Bakersfield. The son laughed and said...

"You know, we broke down here once on a trip up north and my father looked around and said 'Look at this place. Who the hell would want to live here?'. But for some reason he eventually fell in love with the place..."

So I guess there's hope for me. Maybe one day I'll be Bako's biggest booster.

I wouldn't bet the farm on it though.

Random Good Things About Bakersfield #21

Well, this is a first. A "Random Good Things About Bakersfield" that's a genuinely "good thing"!

When I set out to write "good things" posts I always start with the best of intentions, really I do. But something happens along the way and they usually end up as snarky back handed compliments at best. Don't know why really. Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim.

But this time is different.

My good friend Sherry found herself in Bakersfield with a couple of hours to kill. Spend much more time in this town and that won't be the only thing you want to kill. She lives in the scenic mountains an hour south of town and needed to have her car serviced and for better or worse, Bako was the closest option.

I went to pick her up from the dealer and we were going to have a nice leisurely breakfast. When I think "fine dining" in Bako, I think of only one place... the trailer park. It just so happened to be only a block or two away. However, once she saw it, she was less than impressed and she had a suggestion of her own.

Six or seven years ago, she'd eaten in an old school diner somewhere in town and thought that would be the perfect place. Worked for me. "Where is it?" I asked. She couldn't recall, although she thought it was near downtown. What's the name of it?" I asked. She couldn't recall that either.

"But I think it's next to a carwash..."

There aren't that many advantages to living in a small podunk town, but one of them is that armed with only that information, we soon found the restaurant... The 24th Street Café.

It is awesome.

It's like stepping back into the 40's. I don't think anything has been changed since that time, but everything is well maintained and authentic. There's a horseshoe shaped counter in the center and well-worn leather booths surrounding it. Even the wait staff seems like they've been transported Back to the Future and couldn't be nicer. And the food is great - typical diner fare done to perfection.

So if you ever have the misfortune to find yourself in Bakersfield, seek out the 24th Street Café... it'll ease the pain.

It's on 24th Street. You would think that was obvious, but it's Bako.

You can't miss it... it's next to the carwash.

A Halloween Nightmare

For two weeks I've been waiting.

Patiently, anxiously waiting.

Waiting.

For a sign.

Any sign.

Of Halloween.

From Jim.

Two years ago, we'd only lived here a few weeks and we were both dispirited and depressed. And then one bright morning, October 1st, I rounded the corner with the dogs and BAM!, there it was, Jim's Halloween Extravaganza. It was the first time I'd smiled since we got here.

It was only 7am and already the driveway was lined with scarecrows and an inflatable witch held court in the center of the yard. Another inflatable, a ginaormous Grim Reaper, guarded the front gate. Jim was busy hanging ghosts in the tree. Little did I know, this was just the beginning. Each and every day throughout the month, something else would be added. Mummies and zombies and bats and monsters. Severed limbs soon dotted the lawn. Basically, every single Halloween decoration you could possibly find at Home Depot and Walmart was crammed into Jim's 20'x40' front yard. A lot of it was motion activated to shake and shimmy and shriek, and as the dogs and I walked by the entire yard seemed to vibrate and howl.

So last year I was filled with anticipation as September turned into October. And then, for weeks... nothing. Ultimately Jim put up an abbreviated version of his All Hallows Tableau. It paled in comparison to the previous year's show, but it was still pretty elaborate and entertaining.

And now, this year...

It's October 12 and there isn't even a hint of Halloween across the street.

Truth be told, I really haven't even seen Jim all that much recently. I've caught glimpses of him here and there, so I know there hasn't been any unfortunate parole violations. But he's made himself scarce for most of the Summer and now the Fall and I almost never run into him walking the dogs in the mornings.

Until this morning.

There he was, walking towards me with his dog on the sidewalk across the street. I'd finally be able to ask him, confront him about his lack holiday cheer.

And I did.

"Not feelin' it this year. I'm not doing shit."

My heart sank.

I can't tell you how sad that makes me. The boyfriend promises me we'll put up some of our decorations this weekend, but it just won't be the same.

Go With Your Strengths

Finally, Bako makes the top of the list.

Head of the heap.

King of the hill.

A-number-one.

I'm talking, of course, about... chlamydia.

I believe that makes three years in a row. I think we can safely say Bakersfield "owns" chlamydia.

But now isn't the time to rest on our laurels. There's still much work to do. We're still only number 4 in gonorrhea. And all you have to do is look around to know we can do better than that.

Occupy Bako

You know a movement is gaining traction when it shows up in Bako, if it shows up at all, and such is the case with "Occupy Wall Street".

It showed up on Friday.

In other cities the protests have focused on centers of power and finance. Here, they settled for the corner of California and Stockdale Highway - hey, you work with what you've got. It's a high traffic, high visibility intersection, although they were competing with the sign spinner from Subway.

I have to give both the protestors and the reporter covering them some credit (sadly, not this link). For the first time I heard a rational explanation of what it's actually all about.

If you've gotten your coverage from the network or cable news, you could be forgiven for not having a clue what it's all about. They always seem to pick the most delusional and incoherent bystanders to explain it and the result usually sounds like the ravings of a homeless person. Which I suppose is to be expected. At it's heart the protest is about corporate greed in general and Wall Street in particular. Since all the major networks are part of various corporate conglomerates, that's not a message they're particularly anxious to promote.

But the memo apparently didn't trickle down to the local stations, and the reporter here in Bako seemed to genuinely look for someone who could explain it all. And she found one in a bookish looking college girl.

The girl succinctly explained what everyone is upset about. She detailed how the banks and Wall Street turned the economy into a casino, and when they found themselves down and out, came hat in hand to the government for a bailout. They took trillions of dollars of taxpayer money and the second they found themselves solvent again, the first thing they did was pat each other on the back and give each other bonuses. They wouldn't start lending again, but they did ramp up foreclosures and recently they've decided to kick everyone in the crotch by imposing fees on everything and anything. She mentioned the airlines pocketing millions of dollars in federal taxes during the recent brief shutdown of the FAA. She mentioned insurance companies doubling their rates as they cut available services. She mentioned drug companies charging Americans four times what they charge the rest of the world for essential medicine. In under a minute, she pretty much boiled down all the seething anger into easily digestible bullet points.

The Masters of the Universe are, I'm sure, hoping word doesn't spread. And to that end, I noticed the actual video of this interview has evidently disappeared down the memory hole.

Sunday Inspiration

Abominable Snowbilly

So I'm guessing I don't get to use this bumper sticker anymore. Color me bummed.

Railroaded

When I was a kid we were essentially promised three things in the near future: jet packs, flying cars and monorails.

Forty years later, I'm still waiting.

The first two will probably never happen, and after observing people's driving skills with terrestrial vehicles, I think we can all agree that's probably for the best. Nobody wants random people falling from the sky and crashing through their roofs.

The monorail still seemed like a possibility; I grew up 5 miles from Disneyland and they already had one.

So here we are in the year 2011 and the monorail idea seems dead as a doornail as well. But it looked like we might just get the next best thing: HI SPEED RAIL

They've been promising a bullet train between LA and San Francisco for decades. If you've ever spent hours cooling your jets at LAX waiting for the fog to lift at SFO, turning a one hour flight into a 6 hour ordeal, you'd certainly appreciate an alternative.

All it's been for years is talk, talk, talk. But in recent years they finally started to make it a reality, passed bond measures to pay for it, did impact reports, planned the routes, etc., etc., etc. Ground was supposed to be broken next year.

Now you would think the people of Bakersfield would be overjoyed. Not only was the route going smack through the center of town, on existing right of ways, but you'd be able to be in Downtown LA in under an hour, SF in two. And even more exciting was that the very first leg of the route was supposed to be built here, between little ole' Bako and Merced. It would bring much needed jobs, especially since the current plan was to build a massive maintenance facility here in Kern County. We're talking 70,000 jobs! It was a "win/win" all the way around! What could possibly muck it up?

I'll tell you what... the locals.

The local battle cry these days is "WHAT ABOUT THE DRILLERS?!?"

Bakersfield High School, "Home of the Drillers™", sits downtown, directly backed up against the city's largest rail yard. It's a collection of squat, bunker-like buildings and resembles a Depression era penitentiary. The first time I saw it I thought it had been abandoned. It turns out, that for the hi speed rail line, they'll need to widen the right of way, and that will mean tearing down one small building. And it has everyone completely up in arms.

ONE BUILDING!

I also heard someone cite "safety concerns", which seems a little curious since every day hundreds of tanker cars, carrying God knows which noxious poisons, go screaming by at 80mph within feet of the school and football stadium. Then again, the locals never met an industrial strength pesticide or poison they couldn't embrace. If there's a chance it might take out the whole Freshman class, so be it, cost of doing business in Bakersfield. But demolish a 20's era concrete box? No fucking way.

So everyone's now riled up and filing law suits and thinking of every way possible to throw sand in the gears and stop the rail project in it's, pardon the pun, tracks. Morons.

And I see, in the article, that it isn't just students and alumni who are spitting mad. They've also angered... mobile home owners.

Well, that's the final nail in the coffin, isn't it?

La, La, La Niña

Apparently we are going to skip right over Fall and head right into Winter, do not pass GO, do not collect $200.

Yesterday we were hit with an unusually early, cold and wet Winter storm.

That's fine by me; I much prefer cooler rainier weather, which is what I was expecting when we moved here.

We knew nothing about Bakersfield when we moved here and made a lot of assumptions that have proved to be hilariously wrong. Chief among them was the weather.

LA experienced little weather or rain, the Bay Area experienced a lot. Bakersfield fell somewhere in between, so in my mind Bakersfield must be wetter than LA, closer to Northern California in climate. It was farm country after all and you needed rain to grow things, right?

Turns out, you don't.

The southern San Joaquin Valley is essentially a desert. Bakersfield gets about the same amount of rain as Death Valley. The only reason they're able to grow anything at all is the complex system of canals that steal water from up north.

The first Winter we were here, it was cold but we had precious little weather other than the dense, soul-crushing fog. It made a depressing situation that much more so. But last year, we were under the influence of "La Niña". Wasn't that one of Columbus' ships? We had storm after storm and it felt much more like living in the Bay Area. We take our delusions wherever we can find them and that worked fine for me.

And now they say, we're in for an encore, a rare second year of the same weather pattern.

Sounds good to me.

And as an added bonus, because of piss poor planning and non existent drainage, every time it rains we get to experience "Island Living". For a few brief hours, we have waterfront property. It's really the best of all worlds.

R.I.P.

As a loyal Apple customer I'd be remiss not to note the passing of Steve Jobs.

I was surprised how sad the news made me.

Betwixt And Between

The trip to LA was wonderful. If I didn't love the boyfriend and the dogs so much, I wouldn't have come back.

But I do, and I did.

This time.

I'm a little surprised at how excited I am to be teaching again. I hope I have a lot to offer the kids and maybe some of their youthful optimism will rub off on me. That's something that's been sorely lacking in my life these past few years.

I didn't even mind the drive. All those years of living in LA have conditioned me to accept long commutes I suppose. I once lived in Venice Beach and worked in the Valley and on a good day that was an hour and a half drive each way, not much better than the two hours it takes me to get into the city from here. And to be honest it was nice to be untethered from the computer for the better part of a day.

I have found myself questioning why we even still live here anymore. For the past three months absolutely all my work has come from LA. I've given up even trying to find work from the charlatans in this town, I've just been burned too many times. After watching how quickly the houses in this neighborhood rent (including next door, which is another story to come), we could easily rent this place out quickly.

So why are we still here?

The answer is twofold. First, the work from LA has ebbed and flowed pretty dramatically over the past two years. In fact, the reason we're even here in the first place is that it ebbed so badly and for so long we had little other choice. Without a more stable foundation it's hard to justify moving back.

And secondly, shocking as this may sound, is quality of life. Home life, that is.

The reality is I will never make anything even approaching what I once earned. That's just something I've come to accept. And for all of Bako's faults, which are legion, here we can afford a large three bedroom house in a decent neighborhood with a large yard for the dogs. For the same price, in LA, we'd be looking at a two bedroom apartment in a dodgy part of town and we'd either have to sell or pay to store a large part of our belongings.

So, without a little more to go on, we'll stay put for the time being

Unless our luck changes.

And I don't think I'd count on that happening any time soon.

The only trepidation I had when it came to accepting the teaching position was... the weather. The only route between here and LA crosses the mountains at the Tejon Pass and several times a year it's closed due to snow and ice. But after talking to several people I was assured that we rarely get winter weather before Thanksgiving and it's even rarer to get snow before Christmas, which falls several weeks after my class ends. I felt confident it wouldn't be an issue.

Tomorrow's weather forecast?

Rain... and SNOW!

Those Who Can’t, Teach

Back in the Fall of 2008, when my career was in freefall, I hit upon what I thought was a partial solution... I could teach.

I'd taught before, back in the 90's and I enjoyed it quite a bit. I would have continued teaching had my boss not gotten wind of it. She was a firm believer in the notion that if you had any type of personal life outside of the office, you were a slacker. I was given an ultimatum: your class or your job.

Without a Masters Degree, or teaching certificate, getting a job with a public school was off the table. But private schools were another matter, and that's where I had taught before.

I started by calling my pretentious alma mater, thinking that all the money my parents had given them through the second mortgage they took out to put me through school would count for something. I was wrong. I was condescendingly told that one didn't apply to teach there, one was invited. And they only invited the most distinguished and accomplished people, I was told. The mere fact I was looking for a job was all the proof they needed that I was neither.

Next, I called the school I had taught at before, which is when I discovered I wasn't the only person who had had this thought in the troubled economy. They informed me that they had no faculty openings and a waiting list of people who had already applied that ran over 600. That was pretty much the response I received from every school I called.

So imagine my surprise last month when I received a simple message... "Would you be interested in teaching?"

It came from the unlikeliest of sources... LinkedIn. I had dismissed LinkedIn as less than worthless, Facebook for the unemployed. The message came from a "2nd", a connection of one of my connections. He used to work in the same entertainment field as I did, and I'd actually met him socially once or twice. His career trajectory was almost identical to mine, although he's about 5 years ahead of me. Quick rise up to hot shot art director, a decent time at the top on a plateau, and then a disastrous crash to earth. He'd been in about the same position as I back in 2003, found the position teaching, and now was head of the department.

I immediately said yes, no questions.

On paper, it makes absolutely no sense. It's one night class a week. And it's in LA.

So, one day a week, I'll be making the 200 mile, four hour (if I'm lucky) round trip to teach one three hour class. And it pays so little I don't even know if it will cover the gas and the wear and tear on the car.

But here's the thing. If it works out well, they've already asked if I'd be interested in teaching more classes. And if I do, I'll qualify for insurance. And it will give us a concrete reason to leave Hooterville. They've also dangled some vague,long term possibilities that I don't want to jinx by even thinking about.

So I'm off to LA this morning for my first faculty meeting. Classes start next week.

Now all I have to do is pray it doesn't snow on the Grapevine on my night of the week.

Sunday Inspiration

“As Seen On ‘Hoarders’”

"Just wait for the Fair!"

For weeks that's what they've ben saying on the local weather forecast. According to local folklore, the week of the Fair is the pivot point for the weather, the point where we transition from the triple digit summer heat to the cooler, clammier Fall temps.

Honestly, I don't remember anyone saying anything about that last year, and the year before we had just moved here and I was still too shell-shocked to notice. But damn if it hasn't turned out to be true. The Fair ends tomorrow and we're a good 25 degrees cooler than when it started.

This weekend is also our neighborhood garage sale and there's a craptacular gang-bang of useless junk everywhere you look. And the traffic that goes with it. These people love their garage sales. For a split second we considered joining in. Lord knows we still have a garage full of discarded trash to unload, even after two moves. But ultimately it just seemed like too much work and yet another step towards normalizing our existence here, and I don't think anyone wants to see that happen.

I took the dogs out for their morning walk around 7am and it was already going full force. It would appear the "must have" item this year is used tires because I saw at least four houses with towering stacks of them. One would think used tires are used for a reason. If you wouldn't put them on your own car, why would I buy them and put them on mine? Maybe that's too logical.

I'm convinced most of this crap doesn't even leave the neighborhood. The wives leave the husbands in charge of their own sale, as they trawl the neighborhood looking at everyone else's. Maybe they pick things up and bring them home and mark them up to make a quick buck. But more than likely, they just fill up the garage shelves they just emptied.

To everything, there is a season, turn, turn, turn. That goes for junk as well.