The Holiday That Shall Not Be Named

Speaking of dates which pass without notice here in Bakersfield, today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

The reason it's a non-event here is pretty obvious. For all intents and purposes, Bakersfield is the Lost Tribe of the Old South, part of the Confederacy in spirit, if not proximity. Living here, it's easier to believe you're in the middle of Alabama, not California.

If "The South" is your thing, you'd like it here. It's Mississippi without the humidity. For the rest of us, not so much.

Triskaidekasomething

Friday the 13th, a date that will probably pass without notice here in Bakersfield.

That what happens when every day is Friday the 13th.

Fifth of July Round-Up

In more ways than one.

First, the trip to LA. Man, I'm getting good at that - four hours, door to door, including the meeting.

Trips to LA were always so bittersweet, but still I always planned to make of a day of it, swing by some clients, visit some old haunts, drop by my favorite bookstore. I never ever followed through on any of it, too afraid of stirring up too many memories.

But honestly, for the last couple of trips, my attitude was... meh. In and out, get it over with and, dare I say it, go... home. I can't believe I just typed that.

But here's the really scary thing. On this trip, I got... LOST!

In LA!

Where I lived for 25 years!

I still can't believe it. I was driving down the freeway and suddenly realized I'd forgotten which exit to take. I took the wrong one, but figured I'd cross over on surface streets, and then I turned the wrong direction and didn't even realize it. I drove about a mile before it dawned on me that I was totally F'ed up.

Lordy, lordy lordy... it's all fading. You really CAN'T go home again.

But enough about that, back to last night's extravaganza (pictured above).

There was a change in plans and we ended up celebrating in the Colonial tradition of our Founding Fathers... without electricity.

The power went out.

It was about 8pm and I was rushing to get the dogs out for a walk before the dusk light faded and the mayhem began. And suddenly the power sputtered off.

We figured it would come back on shortly and I went ahead to take the dogs out. All of the neighbors were already congregating in their front yards, everyone checking to see if it was the whole block. I passed one neighbor, Michael, who was locking his front gate and headed out with a lawn chair.

"You obviously don't think it's coming back on any time soon" I said.

"It's not" he replied. "This happens all the time in this neighborhood. Every time it gets to be over about 105 the power goes out and it could be hours before it comes back on."

Someone might have thought to mention that when we were in escrow.

I asked him where he was headed and he said he was going to set up camp in the vacant lot around the corner. He said it had a good view of the fireworks from the local country club and that there was supposed to be a rocket launch from Vandenberg around 8:45, which should also put on a good show.

The dogs were unhappy in the heat and did their business and pulled me back home. The boyfriend was sitting there in the dark, fanning himself with a paper plate. The original plan was to go Full Metal Bako and wheel the BBQ out to the front and set up shop in the drive. The heat put a kibosh on that plan, but we still had the picnic tableware.

"Maybe we should just go ahead and start shooting off fireworks?" I said.

"Not dark enough yet" said the boyfriend.

OK. Fine. Then let's just shoot them off inside because it was definitely dark enough there.

"Why don't you call up the power company and make a scene?" he helpfully suggested.

Well that sounded like fun. And my cell phone was fully charged.

So I called PG&E, our local utility, the fine folks who blew up San Bruno in a natural gas explosion last year.

I was greeted by a rousing version of John Philip Sousa's "The Liberty Bell March" and the message that due to the Independence Day holiday, they were short staffed. Most people would recognize the music as the theme song to "Monty Python's Flying Circus". At least someone at PG&E has a sense of humor. Or just stupid. I'm going with "stupid".

At any rate, I got a very nice lady on the phone, a lovely woman. She said there was crew en route and apologized for this "unforeseen" event - triple digit heat in Bakersfield is evidently "unforeseen" by PG&E. I shudder to think what else is.

At that point, we headed outside to light off our stash. It's a good thing we bought a lot because we had some time to kill.

Now, I was concerned that these "safe & sane" fireworks would prove to be too tame and boring. We had done a test run the night before, and while pretty, they seemed to lack that certain danger that I knew as a kid.

But I need not have been concerned - most of our fireworks proved to be defective.

The "Apache Fire Dance"? Those proved to be I.E.D.'s. We had two of them and they both exploded like a half a stick of dynamite, blowing us back off our feet.

Others exploded like mortars, shooting flaming projectiles 20 feet in the air and dangerously close to some very dry trees. Still others turned into flamethrowers, shooting off sideways towards our arsenal in the driveway. I almost knocked over my wine glass rushing for a hose. All in all, it seemed less like a celebration of "Independence" and more a typical day in Iraq.

The boyfriend's car had been parked in the driveway and he had thrown open the doors and cranked the tunes. There was only one song I remember...

"Livin’ On A Prayer", by Bon Jovi.

That pretty much sums up America 2011, as far as I'm concerned.

The finale was absolutely spectacular. Not the firework - that proved to be a dud as well. But just as the boyfriend lit it, the power came back on.

God Bless America!

Freedom Isn’t Free (But It’s Half Off, at WalMart)

I was out walking the dogs this morning, early, before the day became molten. I usually let them choose their own way; it's their time, after all. And for the first time in ages they chose to revisit our old stomping grounds, around the corner. By Mary.

Mary is in quite the festive mood. In addition to the prerequisite house flag, she's festooned the entire front of her condo with dozens of smaller flags. Yet, even from a distance, something seemed a bit... off. Once we got closer the problem became clear.

Her flags had too many stripes.

Stars too.

I didn't actually bother to count, but I'm guessing there were at least 20 stripes. That's what you get when you buy Chinese made flags. I don't blame the Chinese; It isn't their flag. Do you know how many stars are on a Chinese flag? Me neither. And this isn't the first time I've seen fucked up flags here.

I would think if you're going to put yourself out there as a "True Patriot™", you might want to at least bother to get that little detail correct. But people don't. They're either too cheap to buy a real flag, or too lazy to notice. It's Couch Potato Patriotism. Which, I suppose, isn't much of a surprise. On the news this morning they had results from a poll where 42% of the people they surveyed didn't know what year the Declaration of Independence was signed. Whatever.

It's already too hot to venture outside, but the AC is cranked and there's Twilight Zone marathon on. Seems somewhat fitting, living here.

So now it's just a matter of counting down the hours until we can celebrate the holiday the way God intended...

by blowing shit up.

Happy Fourth of July.

Bang For Your Buck

We went a little crazy at the fireworks stand.

That $100 limit? Well, that was really more a "suggestion" than an actual "limit".

This is our arsenal. So far.

"That going to be quite a show!" said the plump little woman behind the chicken wire booth window. "I'm coming over to your house. How many people are you having over" she asked.

Just the two of us, the boyfriend replied.

Sally Fourth!

Today is the day! Today is the day the fireworks stands open!

At noon, to be precise.

Although it appears some folks jumped the gun. When I was walking the dogs last night I could here firecrackers and M-80's going off in the distance.

Or it could've been gunfire.

Hard to tell.

Either way, it was festive.

I thought you could only shoot them off on the actual Fourth, but Bakersfield has a very forgiving fireworks policy - you can shoot them off every day up to the Fourth from noon to midnight. So we're guaranteed four full days of news reports of burning houses and missing fingers.

We've budgeted $100 for fireworks. I haven't told the boyfriend that yet. Yesterday I observed several of the stands loading their stock in and based on that I think this year we're going to go with Christian fireworks. The Evangelicals around the corner seem to be stocking a lot more firepower than the Boy Scouts down the street. Pussies.

I'm not sure what to make of the Christians and explosives. Part of me finds the whole idea a little unsettling. I suppose it's just a sign of the times these days.

I'm not too worried; the ones around the corner are Mennonite.

If they were Baptists, I'd be concerned.

Happy Memorial Day

Let Them Eat Cake

Ever since we moved here we've established a new tradition for holidays and personal milestones...

Leaving town.

And my birthday was no different as we spent the weekend with friends in the mountains.

All in all it was a lovely weekend. There was a slight issue with the birthday cake. It seems there always is. Last year I dropped the boyfriend's 40th and we had no choice but to serve it as it was, looking like it had been rear-ended by a semi. For mine, the cake was just a tad to moist, and when it came time to frost it, it crumpled into nothing. We ended up ladling it out of a bowl like a cobbler. It was delicious nonetheless, and made with love, so I have no complaints.

Sadly my birthday wish didn't come true, because we're back.

But there's always next year.

Not So Bad Friday

I have to admit that lately I've been fortunate. Ever since I returned from my unexpected sabbatical, caring for my mother in February, I've been pretty much swamped with work. Which is a good thing, seeing as how the State of California didn't take kindly to my absence. I wasn't getting my mail and didn't return my unemployment forms in a timely matter, and when I returned, they had cut me off.

But not to worry. The day after I returned, I picked up a really great local client and the work has been steady ever since. And the best thing about them is they pay quickly. I turn in an invoice and two days later, I get a check. It's like magic. I'm used to waiting four months to be paid, so it's a little disorienting. I've picked up some other local work, but if I can just score a couple other large clients we may actually start being OK.

I still get the occasional project out of Hollywood, but at this point it's really nothing more than an afterthought. That industry is still reeling from the one/two punch of the recession and the sudden and drastic switch from traditional advertising to the online space. Although many say the economy is showing signs of recovering, in the Hollywood ad world the carnage continues unabated. Just last Friday, one of the oldest and largest agencies unexpectedly closed their doors, dumping over 100 competitors into an already over-saturated freelance market.

There have been a couple of unfortunate side effects of my relatively recent success.

For one, I think I'm becoming agoraphobic.

I almost never leave the house. All my work is handled online, all my communication with the outside world through e-mail. Projects are uploaded and downloaded without any human interaction. I sit in my little office cave and seldom leave. Oh sure, I still walk the dogs. It's the only time I actually see the sun. But those are just little quick spins around the neighborhood and usually the only soul we see is Jim weaving around the neighborhood on his beach cruiser, Jack and coke in hand. Actually, the only time I venture out into the real world is for a random run to the market or my daily trip to the corner gas station for smokes. In fact, if I didn't smoke, I might go days without any human interaction. It puts me in an odd position: if I continue to smoke, I'll probably die of lung cancer. But is I quit, I'll probably go insane. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

That's not to discount the boyfriend. Of course I see him every evening. But he works such long hours, when he comes home in the evening he isn't much the conversationalist. It's usually a dinner of Helper, a little TV and then off to bed. We try an make up for it on the weekends, but it still leaves the weekdays pretty lonesome.

Which brings up the other side effect: I'm quickly losing my social skills. With no human interaction, I now get frazzled on the rare occasion the phone rings. On a day to day basis, the only people I talk to, and they're people to me, are the dogs. Needless to say, the way you speak to dogs and the way you speak to adult humans is demonstratively different, and at the rate I'm going I run the risk of telling one of my clients he's a "good boy".

Luckily, I'll get a chance to re-enter polite society and refresh my skills this weekend. We're blowing out of town later today to spend Easter with the family. I suppose that means I'll have to shave and ditch my casual Unibomber work look. I'm sure the boyfriend will appreciate that. Easter is the time of rebirth, and for me that means getting reacquainted with shoes.

Holy Moly

I'm going to date myself, but back when I was a kid we traditionally had this week off for Easter Break.

Not "Spring" Break... EASTER Break.

Everybody knew why they were getting the week off, and nobody made any bones about it : JESUS

Sure, people still took the opportunity to go on vacation, but it was clear it was courtesy of Our Lord and Savior.

Then, somewhere along the line, the communist, socialist, feminist, homosexual atheists made a stink and it was renamed "Spring Break". Once it was decoupled from the holiday, schools started scheduling just as they pleased and "Spring Break" stopped being any one actual week. My niece and nephew are both in college; she was off three weeks ago, he had last week off. This week they're back in classes and not even coming home for the weekend. Even when I started working, we still were given Good Friday off. I don't even remember when that was dropped, it was so long ago. So "Spring Break" has lost all it's religious significance and is now more about doing jello body shots down in Cabo.

Of course, being gay, the week still had some religious significance. It's the week of the White Party down in Palm Springs, a four day bacchanalia of dance parties, pool parties, casual sex, booze and an entire alphabet of recreational drugs. In the right combination, it could truly be a religious experience.

Or, so I've heard.

Actually, I haven't done the White Party in ten years, but I have fond memories of it. Not a lot of memories, but the ones I have are fond. The week usually caps off with a surprise superstar performance. One year it was Madonna. At least that's what we were told - no one in my group could remember the next day. Another year it was JLo. I think it was JLo. My eyes were vibrating so much I had a hard time focusing. Ah, wasted youth. In more ways than one. But I digress...

So, the point of this post was how Easter Week had kind of lost it's punch and wasn't any big deal anymore.

Except here in Bako.

Here, it's still Easter Week with a capital "E". All the schools are off, places are closed, people are gone. On the local news they're promoting all kinds of Easter festivities. I'd actually started to build up some momentum with work here, but this week it's come to a screeching halt. I call or e-mail and discover nobody's home. They're all off... for Easter.

I don't know why everyone's getting so pious about it. I know for a fact one of my clients is actually down in Cabo, although the thought of her and jello shots is a little too much to picture. And I was informed that another client is away at a "business conference".

A business conference? Over Easter weekend? That seems a little odd. What about the wife and kids?

Not a big deal, I was told.

"He'll be back on Sunday. He's just down in Palm Springs..."

Just in time for church, no doubt.

Dawn of a New Day

Everyone here is simply over the moon with the announcement that Google has chosen little ole' Bako to build a state-of-the-art research and development center focusing on emerging technologies. The plan is to eventually expand it to the point that it will make Kern County a major technology hub.

They cited the huge investment the county has made in renewable energy a major draw, as well as the fact that the area is well situated between Silicon Valley and the media companies of LA. If and when they build high speed rail, it'll make Bakersfield an easy hop from either direction. And of course, there's the low cost of land and the "friendly" business environment. I guess all that corruption finally paid off.

I'm sure the City and County gave away the store to get them here, but I don't think anyone here is complaining. Everyone's property values probably just doubled overnight. Rather than being exiled to a provincial backwater, it now looks like we'll be here to get in on the ground floor of something really great. Who woulda thunk it?

They hope to break ground within a year and hope to have Phase 1 up and running on this date in 2013, so everybody mark your calendars!

Laissez Les Bons Temps Rouler!

Happy Mardi Gras!

It's Fat Tuesday, or, as it's known here, "All You Can Eat Day" at Lorene's.

A New Year

Technology has kind of ruined New Year's Eve.

When we got up this morning shortly after 5am, they were already celebrating the New Year in Sydney. What a spectacular that was. CNN will be showing New Year's every hour, on the hour, as the festivities slowly creep across the globe. I just noticed that several of my Facebook "Friends" (or as I like to refer to them, "Total Strangers") are traveling in the Far East and just posted photos of celebrations there. With satellite TV and an East Coast feed, we can ring in the New Year in Times Square... at 9pm. By the time the big moment finally arrives here on the West Coast it always feel like you've arrived at the party late after everyone's already left and the hosts are clearing the dishes. Such is life for the geographically disabled.

I don't really do "New Year's Resolutions", preferring instead "New Year's Suggestions". There's much less guilt and depression when February rolls around and you realize you aren't all that resolute. Topping the list are always "quit smoking" and "lose weight" followed by an ever rotating roster of good ideas that never seem to go anywhere.

But this year is different. This year I'm actually making a resolution and I'm sticking to it.

Next year is going to be different. Next year I'm not letting despair overtake me and I'm going to approach everything with a positive outlook and a belief in the possible. For real. I'm going to make things happen.

I'm even going to bring this positive outlook to Bakersf...

Oh, who are we kidding? I'd have nothing to write about. Where's the fun in that?

So... other than Bakersfield, next year is going to be GREAT.

Maybe we'll go out and enjoy the festivities tonight.

I hear they're dropping a giant cow pie at midnight down at Buck Owens' Crystal Palace.

Happy New Year!

C'est la Mona Vie

Back from an all too brief Christmas visit. A lovely time was had by all. At least until the Ring Wing of the family arrived.

It's always amusing to see what seemingly innocuous topic will be twisted into Republican talking points, and this year it turned out to be the Civil War. Don't ask me why.

I'm not even sure how we got on the topic - I think my niece mentioned something about a term paper. But once it was introduced they were off and running. Silly me, I had assumed the subject had been settled over a hundred years ago. But being a Wingnut means never having to say you're sorry, or pass up an opportunity to rewrite history. My brother-in-law informed everyone it really had nothing to do with slavery but rather the issue of "state's rights". The South would have never seceded had the North not "invaded". That's why it was referred to as "The War Of Northern Aggression".

Why, yes, it had been referred to as that.

By the losers.

A century ago.

Is this what they're teaching at Glenn Beck U. these days?

Later on my sister and I delivered a small Christmas gift to the neighbors. They had recently helped my folks out after my mother had surgery and we wanted to express our thanks. When the neighbor opened the door, my sister's eyes lit up at what she saw inside...

Cases of Mona Vie.

Oh Lord. A Fellow Traveler on the Acai Berry Trail. They started speaking in tongues, Mona Vie style. There may have been a secret handshake, who knows. It's a cult, I tell you. I tuned it all out and when we headed back to my folks I could tell my sister was just itching to try and recruit me again. I cut her off at the knees. It was Christmas, for God's sake, give it a rest.

It was a very low key Christmas. Like us, my folks didn't really bother to decorate. There was no tree. In deference to our financial situation, there were no gifts since we weren't in a position to reciprocate. It dawned on me that once you strip Christmas of the trappings and tinsel and gifts, it's really nothing more than... Thanksgiving. Again.

And all too quickly the weekend was over. We feared a repeat of my almost 5 hour slog back at Thanksgiving, so we hit the road early and were shocked to be back in Bako 2 hours later. I think that qualifies as a Christmas Miracle. It's not much, but we'll take it.

Here’s The Story, Of A Lovely Lady...

When we were first looking for a place to live in Bako, this was the third neighborhood we looked at.

And it was love at first sight.

The boyfriend and I both share a certain fondness for the 70's aesthetic, and entering this neighborhood was like stepping back in time to the malaise-y days of the Carter Era. Actually, even though the homes were all built in the late 70's, the vibe is more "Nixonian". That's to be expected in Bakersfield, where everything is at least ten years behind the times. I think the thing I liked best was that it all reminded me of "The Brady Bunch".

"The Brady Bunch" was my all-time favorite TV show as a kid, so much so that when it was ultimately cancelled in '74 I started a petition to bring it back and circulated it around my neighborhood. The neighbors already thought I was a little strange, and that certainly didn't help matters. I'm not sure exactly why I was so drawn to "The Brady Bunch". Maybe it was the fact that Mr. Brady was an architect, and that's what I wanted to be. Maybe it was the Brady home, so hip and mod with it's orange Formica kitchen and bitchin' open staircase. Or maybe it was just my crush on Peter. Who knows.

Most of he homes in our neighborhood are what I refer to as "Mid Brady Modern", vaguely Modernist post and beam homes in wood and 70's earth-tones. They look like kissin' cousins to the Brady's Sherman Oaks ranchstyle. The rest are are early "Cali-terranean", the faux Hacienda look of stucco and tile that became popular in the early 70's. It proved to be the downfall of residential architecture because it introduced the concept of house as movie set. Soon people weren't content with sleek modern designs. They needed fake Swiss chalets and half-timbered Tudors, phony country cottages and off-the-shelf, on-the-cheap Tuscan villas. Sadly, the home we just bought falls into the latter category. It's my only regret about it. I will be denied my Brady dream home and have to make do with a glorified Taco Bell.

Adding to the whole Brady appeal of the neighborhood is that fact that more days than not you actually see Mrs. Brady out cruising the neighborhood. A lot of people around here use a water service called "Rain Soft". Their national spokesperson is Florence Henderson and her giant face maniacally grins from their vans as they tool about...



So, as I wrap up prepping the new house and prepare to leave Dogpatch for a few days of Christmas cheer with the family, I find myself soaking in a little Brady nostalgia.

And it's in that spirit that I wish every one a "Very Brady Christmas".

Bahhumburg

I keep forgetting Christmas is this week. We've done absolutely nothing for it. Christmas used to be such a big deal for us. Back in 2007, when things started to look a little shaky, we scaled it back dramatically. By 2008, we were in free fall and forwent any gift giving. Same with last year. But through it all, we still managed to decorate. Even last year, when we'd only been here weeks. But with the house and the pending move, we didn't so much as break out a wreath. And in Bakersfield, that appears to be the norm.

If you're a Scrooge type of personality, than Bako is your kind of place. You'd be hard pressed to find somewhere else with even less civic holiday spirit. Considering the overtly evangelical nature of the place you'd be surprised at how quietly Christmas passes here.

The city does pretty much nothing, as far as I've seen. Where I come from even Van Nuys threw up street decorations, and it's even more of a dump than here (but not by much). The merchants seem content with badly painted windows that will no doubt be quickly and easily hosed off come Monday. I'm sure the bunker-like mall did the same as last year, but I haven't been back since that depressing visit.

And the locals don't seem particularly into the holiday spirit either. Our neighborhood seems sparsely decorated, even worse than last year. And the ones that have decorated gave it a half hearted effort. A lot of people who put up lights didn't even bother to ring the house, just tacking up a single string over the garage like a Christmas band-aid. There were a lot of Home Depot inflatables at the start of the month but everyone seems to have grown bored with them and they don't even bother to inflate them anymore. Several front yards look the aftermath of a horrible skydiving accident.

But by far, the biggest disappointment has been Jim. Up until last Sunday he'd done absolutely nothing, and then a few random ornaments appeared in his front tree. That's about it. No inflatables, no Circuit Party Santa.

I was in the front yard of the new house on Monday, checking on the drainage during a light lull in all the rain. I saw Jim across the street giving a friendly wave. I waved back and he started to walk over to chat. We stood in our front yard and he was admiring the work we'd already done. He was holding a highball glass of scotch. On the rocks.

It was 10:30am.

"You haven't done much with your house this Christmas" I said.

"Yup. Just not into this year" he replied. "I only hung the ornaments because my dad was giving me a hard time."

Well, that solves one mystery. I was always curious how Jim supported himself since he obviously doesn't work. And the answer is, he doesn't. Dad does.

"Just not into it this year" he repeated.

Well, that makes two of us.

The Killing Field

I visited one of my local clients last Monday, a mere three days after Christmas. They're located across from a vacant lot.

Everywhere in Bakersfield is located across from a vacant lot.

I couldn't help but notice the lot had turned into a dumping ground for Christmas trees. Hundreds of them. And it's grown exponentially since then.

What a macabre scene - hundreds, maybe thousands, of Christmas trees, dead on their sides, their upturned little wooden crossbar stands forming white tombstones.

I hope they plan to recycle them, but this being Bako, they'll probably wait for the first hint of a blue sky to set them ablaze.

There's little fear of that happening anytime soon - it's been gloomy, foggy and cold for weeks, with no break in sight.

What a dreary start to the New Year.

No, Virginia, There Is No Santa Claus....

... because he's gone! Circuit Party Santa is gone! I'm so bummed because he had recently been moved down to street level and I was going to get him some glow sticks.

I hope no one stole him.

Maybe he's just taking a well deserved break inside in the chill room. Or maybe he split early to join the Circuit down in Miami or PV.

But I have an idea of where you might find him...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mT1nDUy-eNI

A Spray In The Manger

Here's a thought - if you're going to put a life-size Nativity scene on the front lawn, turn off the damn sprinklers. For such overtly religious people, you would think that nailing the Baby Jesus in the head with the RainBird would border on the sacrilegious. But not here. They have their priorities, and nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to pry their sprinklers from their cold, dead lawns. If the Lord and Savior has to take one for the team, so be it.

It was dispiriting to see nonetheless, even for a lapsed Christian like myself. But it pretty much sums up my mood this cheerless holiday season.

I can't wait for this week to be over.

Or this year.

Circuit Party Santa

It took awhile, but the neighbors finally got with the program and festooned their houses for the holidays. I wish I could say I was surprised at how monotonously the same they all are, but then again if anyone had any personal stye they certainly wouldn't be living here. The "theme" this year is apparently "laziness". Seriously, if you're going to go to the expense of buying all this crap for your front yard, the least you could do is PLUG IT IN. But no, these people can't be bothered to run out an extension cord. So yard after yard is populated with those cheesy wire-frame snowmen and reindeer, covered in twinkly white lights that are never turned on. What's the point? Might as well just dump a pile of wire coat hangers on the lawn and call it a day. The most unfortunate part, at least with the reindeer, is that the unused plug dangles approximately where the genitals would fall.

And the inflatables aren't much better. For the first day or two they were gleefully pumped up and turned on at dusk. But now? Meh. Over it. So they blanket the lawns like abandoned parachutes. The whole neighborhood looks like they just did an emergency food drop. Nothing says "Merry Christmas" like a bunch of limp vinyl.

And then there's Jim. He's proven to be something of a disappointment. He started strong but then quickly faded. The Parisian theme went nowhere. And for days the only additions were "lollipops" - those small security company lawn signs, wrapped in cellophane. You could still read the company names - ADT, Brinks, Homeguard. Either Jim has a LOT of security, or he's been raiding the neighbor's lawns. But then he made one addition that was so awesome, so stupendous, it almost made up for the weak showing so far:

Circuit Party Santa.

Life size, "life-like", it looks demonic. With rubbery skin only an embalmer could love. His eyes are completely dilated like he's popped a couple of hits of X. Mechanically he twists, slowly back and forth, waving maniacally at nothing in particular. Currently he's on the roof and looks like a go-go boy.

God it reminds me of my club days.

Good times.