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Nirvana at Louis Vuitton

Man commits suicide at Hollywood & Highland

Approximation of the last thing victim saw - photograph by Carbon Boy

Two days ago (Thursday, February 11 before the hour of Noon) a man committed suicide at the Hollywood & Highland mall by jumping off the overlook across from the El Capitan Theater. He landed in front of the Louis Vuitton store. According to a worker at the mall, the sound of the impact was so loud that passers-by thought it was a gun shot and began to run in all directions. I called the Wilcox Police Station to see if I could get more information on the victim, but they don’t take calls from the public. I tried calling the News Desk at L.A. Times and the gentleman who answered told me that unless it’s someone like Mr. McQueen, they don’t usually report on suicides. Fair enough. They’ve got a lot of ground to cover. The man who answered even suggested I call the Coroner’s Office. Unfortunately, the famous L.A. Coroner only works business hours and nobody will answer the phone on Monday, President’s Day. The cops on the scene were typical Hollywood cops. Rude and arrogant, not to mention tight-lipped. A curious passer-by asked if they’d beat someone up again, one of them twisted up his face and barked, “That’s not funny.” No, it’s not funny because it happens all the time. And if you get robbed, assaulted or anything else in Hollywood, don’t expect the police to help you. They are fat-assed, Starbucks latté swilling and coffee cake gobbling civil servants who just want to collect a paycheck and go home.

If you live in Hollywood and want to feel safe, buy a gun. As for the poor soul who found nirvana by jumping off the top of the Hollywood and Highland complex, all the information that I’ve been able to able to glean thus far from the twittersphere is that he was an elderly black man. Uncorroborated details of this sad event relate that the man’s death was not an easy one. Reports say that he coughed blood and began to seize before departing this earthly plane. Reports also relate that the police tried to talk him down. From my experiences with the Hollywood police, I’d be more inclined to believe that one of them pushed him, just so he could call it a day. There! I said it!

What’s up with the Hollywood Sign?


Tom LaBonge and his greedy developer friends are planning to develop Griffith Park. Is nothing sacred? Apparently not, especially in Los Angeles, which on a corruption scale of one to ten, ten being Bangladeshi corrupt, would undoubtedly score a ten. While fresh-face UCLA students, armed with clipboards and petitions, scour Hollywood Boulevard asking for signatures to protest this outrage, others with a bit more moxey are putting these letters up on the age-old symbol as their form of protest. The ridge that these money-grubbing bastards want to develop is dangerously close to the sign and will probably block the sign from even more viewers. Soon nobody except for the ultra-rich who live around the actual sign will be able to see it. And the parkland that is supposed to be sacrosanct? A quick drive along Mulholland Drive will tell you how safe from development park land is in this town; it ain’t!

Sorry that today’s entry is such a downer folks, but if you’ve lived in Hollywood as long as I have, you understand that this place is the purest center piece of capitalism, where money talks and everybody else can take a walk. Have you no shame at all, Tom (I want a piece of the action) LaBonge? God help us if this man ever wins the mayorship. Even the squirrels will have to pack their bags and move to the furthest reaches of the San Fernando Valley to find an affordable place to live.


About Russell Smith

I was born at the American Hospital in Neuilly-sur-Seine, France. I find inspiration in the lives of so many people from Joan of Arc to Oscar Wilde. While my primary avocation is photography, I also enjoy philosophy, theology and most of all, history. My beloved wife, Robin Anne Smith, who passed away in 2013 is also an inspiration to me. My beloved partner, Dana is also a great support and inspiration to me. I'd be remiss if I did not mention my cats: Natasha, Maxwell, Tigger and Nigel.

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