Dear Readers, don’t let my profile pictures fool you. I’m tore up from the floor up; that is, I don’t look so good. In fact, I’m quite sure that when some folks look at me, the first thing that pops into their little heads is, “AIDS.” That’s okay, if they’re okay with people who have HIV. If they’re not okay with people who have HIV or AIDS, then there is a problem. Consider the owner of Mike’s Headshop on Hollywood Blvd.
If you want to be treated like a diseased pariah, I suggest that you rush to Mike’s Headshop on the Blvd. They are all the same really, in terms of inventory; let’s face it. And they all promise to special order something for you out of a catalog. The dividing line is service. Service! Service! Service! I just wanted something small, and efficient and I didn’t want to spend more than twenty dollars. The man who was actually helping me seemed nice enough, but before I could even touch one thing from under the counter, he’s jumping in front of the salesman’s face holding this glass thing, yelling, “This is called a chillum! A chillum! Do you understand!” He was livid that I should try to touch something with my, how shall I say, untouchable hands.
It told this chump on no uncertain terms to kiss my ass. There! I said it!
Anyway, if you want your smoking needs fulfilled, I suggest that you go to Atomic Tobacco, 1770 N. Highland. It’s located on the little strip mall with my corner store/liquor mart. There’s also a killer donut shop and a Chinese restaurant there. If you’re from the hood, I wouldn’t send my best suit or favorite dress to that dry cleaner there. Enough said?
Put some cotton in your ears, and then listen to this clip.
So it’s never a dull stroll down the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, also known as the Historic Headshop and Stripper Wear District. I don’t want it to change either. Does that make me a monster? I like the salty character of the Boulevard. Aren’t there enough sushi bars and shabu shabu restaurants over in West Hollywood, or over in the Valley?