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Tag Archives: Hollywood police

Hollywood Cops

I get tired of them.

In the clutches...

They like to pick on people. They don’t like to arrest people, or filling out police reports. If you can afford private security, then you are safe in Hollywood; otherwise, you are in constant danger of being mugged, harassed, or any other awful thing. People use drugs in public. Crack houses operate with impunity. I know because I’ve lived across the street from one for years. Below is a video that shows cops harassing bicycle riders, and then they jump on the videographer. It’s ugly.

There’s a cop who appears in both the video and this picture. I’ve taken his picture before and he has a problem with being photographed. I wonder why? I wonder how many crimes, large or small that he’s committed while “protecting and serving?” All of the cops from the Wilcox station seem to give off a creepy vibe. There used to be a few nice guys on the force, but I think they got reassigned. One cop told me that personnel was down. If that’s so, why does it take THREE cops to detain this poor fellow who looks like he weighs 98 pounds wet?

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Life amongst the ruins

 

Welcome to the Yucca Street corridor!

Existence is probably a better noun to use. The word life connotes a certain joy, a spark of hope, a glimpse of a dream, and at least a shred of dignity. But for the people who live in the Concrete Garden, there is only despair. In addition, for the people around them, there are daily confrontations with fear, vulgarity, hatred, dirtiness. The dream of Hollywood is a tiny diamond amongst a whole beach of plain sand. For the majority, some kind of life is put together – acting classes, camaraderie, the occasional part in a play in one of those tiny theaters on Santa Monica Blvd., or even a part in a commercial! Then there’s the waiting of tables, or being a barísta at a she-she coffee house. One out of thousands gets a lucky break, most just end up going back to school, others find niches all of their own – after all, actors are creative people and some of them are actually talented, at acting and other things as well. It’s a tough life, but as the saying states, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” The people you will meeting in today’s post aren’t tough. They are idiots.

Some of us Hollywoodlians, I daresay, the majority don’t even think about a career in the business, as it is called here in Los Angeles. These people just call Hollywood home. They live in crappy apartments; they live in really nice apartments; a few even live in just okay apartments. I’m a bit of a snob. I like being from Hollywood, despite the reputation that it has of flop-houses and crack heads. Sometimes the reputation is well earned, and tonight was one of those nights when the reality of the dangers of Hollywood hit home, too close to home for comfort.

I call this first video, “The party begins.” Earlier in the day, cops came and rousted two young men from the abandoned lot at the northwest corner of Yucca and Las Palmas. The night before a group of six (5 males and 1 girl) slept in the lot. There are mattresses and couches that provide ample sleeping accommodations for the none-too-picky. The two who remained were late sleepers, I guess, but they were told to shove off, and off they went. This is the whole pack returning. They know I’m recording them from up above, so they move their party furniture against the western wall of the lot in hopes of avoiding my camera. Nice try, idiots.

 

 

 

 

The block of Yucca between Las Palmas and Highland has been squirming under the heal of gentrification for three years now. Potholes that look like they were torn by ice glaciers work in concert with the loud noises of construction, and inconvenience of heavy machinery blocking access to everything, to create an atmosphere of fatalism. When will it be our turn to be forced to pack up and move out? In this next video, our revelers get out of hand. The footage is shocking and I’ve given it a PG-13 rating. The rating is for violence. At first the video is a bit unclear and shaky, but be patient and stick with it. You won’t be disappointed. The woman in the foreground is being restrained by two men and in the background, three men are fighting tooth and nail. The woman apparently wants to come to the assistance of somebody, but the other two men explain to her that it’s a “man thing” and she wouldn’t understand, and mustn’t intervene. Please allow me to clarify one thing. It’s not a “man thing.” It’s an “idiot’s thing.” You have to be an idiot to understand their behavior. A drunken, violent idiot at that.

Let me end this post with a few brief words. Of course it is the responsibility of the owner of this lot to secure it in a manner that keeps the riff-raff out. It is the duty of the police, on the other hand, to secure peace and the rule of law. How did they respond to this situation? Poorly, as usual. I called the 9-1-1 dispatcher twice about this situation. The first time, the person I spoke with said that there had been other calls and that units were on the way. I waited over ten minutes then called again. The second person said that nobody else but me had called (a lie). I know she was lying because she read me information that I never gave the first dispatcher that I spoke with. She asked me if I wanted to leave my name and number. I said, “NO!” Because of the last incident, when the cops treated me threateningly, but then I said, “I know you have that information already.” With a curt, “Fine!” she disconnected our conversation. One measly unit finally showed up. It was pitch dark which necessitated the use of flashlights. It looked to me as if they took the drunkest and/or most beat up of the bunch, set him underneath a tree and called an ambulance for him. Job done! Was anybody arrested for trespassing, assault, public intoxication, or anything at all? To my war weary eyes, the answer seems, “No.”

 

 

 

Evicted from the Concrete Garden

Editor’s note : The title of the last post, Only the Homeless are Free is an adaptation of a line in George Orwell’s novel 1984. One of Big Brother’s quotes is that “Only the animals and proles are free.” If you are still confused, then read the book.

Video reveals Hollywood police in action!

Another Editor’s note : Title of this post is a reference to the Cement Garden (1978) by Ian McEwan. Adapted into a film in 1993.

Only the Homeless are Free

Arrest? Who? Me?

This morning I heard a man yelling insults, obscenities and threats at 8 o’clock. I looked out the window and saw a tall African-American man with a shopping cart full of stuff garbage bags, and a small Hispanic man who was walking his little doggy. The man with the shopping cart, who I assume is homeless, was extremely upset about the man’s dog, which probably weighed all of one pound. The poor man with the dog couldn’t understand fully why the homeless man was upset. He was just trying to walk his dog. Just then a police car pulled up to a stop sign and the man with the dog flagged them down. The rest is history.

Those silver bracelets!

Well of course the cops spent a lot of time keeping him in handcuffs, and calling the Wilcox Station to see if he had any outstanding warrants. He must have had some kind of I.D. or they would have detained him and taken him back to the station for a fingerprint check, or whatnot. I ran downstairs to give a witness statement. I told them what I saw. Did they write it down? No. Did they ask me for my name or address or any contact info in case they arrested the detainee? No. That’s because they already knew that they weren’t going to arrest him for assaulting the poor guy and his dog. Luckily a passerby was able to translate between the victim and the cop. It makes me sick what goes on in this city, this town of Hollywood. There really is much to say. After everybody left, the cops let the guy go. I took some other photos and pics, so here you go:

That will learn him!

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ (below are videos)

Tammy Report

As you can mostly hear, but partly see, Tammy is never one keep her feelings bottled up inside. Maybe we can all learn from Tammy and start yelling “Fuck you!” at whomever we like. Oh, but I already know “people” like that. Today is one of those days when your Hollywood reporter-at-large wished the world would hurry up and run out of resources, that the last oil well will run dry. I want to be here, in the desert when it happens. But maybe that’s just the Tammy in me talking right now.

Or Rarely Treats Anyone Fairly

While it may seem cruel not to give out the name of this weekend retreat, tough toenails. Life isn’t always fair. In fact, it rarely treats me fairly. So in that happy spirit let me share with you our weekend getaway. I won’t tell you how long it takes to get there, because that would help anyone with Google map find the joint in about five minutes. On the other hand, I will share the beauty of this getaway. It’s always nice to wake up with the sound of the surf breaking against the tidal rocks. I didn’t investigate any tide pools. Maybe next time. Robin thought she saw a starfish on one rock way in the distance. The tenacity of life is amazing!

Rocks and Waves

Now here’s a chance for you to hear my impromptu review of the … oops! … almost said it! You can hear me review the place on this following video, plus I treat you to my non-professional singing voice. That’s the one most of you hear. Only a few of my closets friends and relatives have heard my professional singing voice. You know who you are.

Why must everything be marred by the unpleasant people who have no class? Robin was using a lounge chair at the very end, so that nobody could sit on her left side, and she had a table set up between the second and third chair; thereby, discouraging anybody to sit beside her. She got up to get a cup of coffee. In that brief period of time (30 seconds) so virago stole her spot by tossing a grubby sweatshirt material hoody on her chair. Once this harridan had gathered a pile of starchy, cold, over-warmed “Continental Breakfast,” she ran back to the chair and planted her broad, well-worn ass on Robin’s lawfully taken (first come, first serve) lounge chair. Robin went back because she was concerned that her vitamin had fallen out of her pocket. Robin tried looking about the chair discreetly, but she was forced to enquire of the woman if she’d seen aforementioned vitamin. “This chair was empty when I got here. I didn’t see anything. Clever bitch. She probably took Robin’s dirt contaminated vitamin and washed it down with coffee, as a sort of complete dominance thing, or she just threw it into the ocean. It’s two feet away as you can see.

Chair Thief!

Here’s another picture that I’d taken of the view, it was perfect except for one thing. See for yourself.

Gorgeous vista, except

Now for something really different!
TAMMY REPORT JULY 5, 2010

The Queen of Curse Words is back and she’s in full force.


But don’t ask the Hollywood Police at the Wilcox station to do a darn thing about it because they have more important things to do like enjoy the cavalcade of hot chicks on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams by the Hollywood and Highland mall. I’ve got puh-lenty footage and photographs of them hanging out with their free lattes and chocolate chip scones from Starbucks. It’s hard to believe that they are in shape. Talk about Big Butts! As for Tammy, the tenacity of life is amazing.

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?

SALLYWOOD?

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.