When I moved to California, my expectations were realistic. I’d meet a super rich and/or famous movie mogul/actor/producer/whatever who would take care of me and set me up in the style to which, although I wasn’t accustomed to yet, to the style to which I deserved. I think that my goals were very concrete and my plan of action was impeccable. I threw my stuff into the car and drove to Los Angeles- Hollywood to be exact. It was the Summer of 1999. Guess what?
While my original plans didn’t pan out so well. I did fall in love right here in Hollywood and I fell in love with Hollywood. It is home to me, my wife Robin and our 3 cats. It ain’t no rose garden. If it looks like a seedy backlot, well…there you have it! I certainly didn’t move here to live in a condo, or a loft, or a highrise apartment building. Isn’t that what they have places like Manhattan and Baltimore for? Hollywood is a haven for weirdos. Those of use who are a little out of place and maybe even a lot out of place. Speaking for all Hollyweirdlians: We did not move here to fit in; nor do we plan to be driven out by a bunch of money grubbing developers, or their SUV driving henchbots! We love Hollywood just as it is- with all its tattoo parlors, head shops, negligee boutiques, homeless beggars, and all. There! I said it!
Photograph by R. Jean Smith, Fort Washington, MD circa 2004, scanned by RS using HP ColorSmart; Model: Jackson Vassighi
So I’ve come up with a game. Watch.
Here’s the gig. Come up with some funny names for the cranes. Or you can submit a group name for the cranes. Either way, submit as many entries as you want. Submit them to email@example.com. Let’s give it a couple of weeks. The winner will get some kind of prize. Goofy, yet of some monetary value. Next entry. I’ll show you all, dear, beloved readers what those EVIL CRANES have already done. It’s sick, I tell you. Sick! I tried to videotape the atrocity up close last time but they lunged at me. Watch for yourself.