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Tag Archives: mental illness

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.

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Religiosity on the Boulevard, plus …

I can’t get enough

of the Korean Pentecostals on Hollywood Blvd. They have been making a concerted effort to make their presence known to the summer tourists and locals alike. Take a gander at this lady’s megaphone. She does have a pretty singing voice, but I don’t think she’d make the cut even to get on American Idol.

Then I espied a Scientologist passing out the Free IQ Test handout to all and sundry. One man took it, began to read it and said within earshot, “Oh, Jesus Christ!” I’m surprised he didn’t shred it into a dozen pieces and throw it into the air as a form of exorcism. What him weave his wascally way through the crowds. I had trouble keeping up, but I think he stopped to answer somebody’s question, and that afforded me time to get this shaky footage. I don’t think you can pick the guy out unless you had me standing beside you to tell you who his is.

Oh, Jesus Christ! You've got to be kidding me!

Tammy Report

For the first time ever, Tammy talks directly to the camera. Because I don’t think she’s even competent enough to give her consent to be filmed, before she became too clear in focus, I decided to train the camera on the tree trunk while I spoke with her. Brace yourself as you join me delving into the mind of a mad woman. Is it sad? Yes! For those of a more sensitive nature, don’t listen.

To say that Tammy needs help is the understatement of the Century. But she doesn’t see it that way. First of all, she claims that she’s not on drugs. I’ve seen her with my own two peepers use a crack pipe right on my doorstep. Therein lies the beginning of her downfall. She goes a day or two without sleeping from smoking crack, or crystal meth and that causes her mind to snap. Even the most even-keeled person in the world will start to lose their grip on reality if denied sleep for one or two nights. Take someone whose grasp on reality is already tenuous and give them a stimulant like crack cocaine or crystal meth, and they will go crazy before the night is through. Most social service agencies won’t even talk to you if you fail a urine test. Once Tammy has a taste of the rock, or powder, whatever, she is slamming a dozen doors in her own face. It’s a catch-22 that will lead this woman to an early grave I fear. My dear friend, David G. suffered from the same issues. As his dementia worsened, people wanted less and less to do with him. Because of his inability to live without illicit drugs, he found himself booted out of Mother Teresa’s hospice in Northeast D.C.

I miss you, David. I wish you could have done more to save yourself. I wish I could have done more to save you. I’m haunted by this unrealistic guilt. Why did David die? Why am I still alive?

Hollywood & Highland Subway platform

Noise, noise, noise and I chastise the police force!

A video from CBS.

http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=6633405n&tag=api

Oh, how I hate them. How I hate cell phones! Just shut up and watch the game! I am really quite quite shocked that nobody kicked his ass before the ball came along and schmooshed his nose!

October 2007

June 2010 – Day in and Day out!

Now

What do they “plan” on doing in this amazing city of Hollywood? I’ll tell ya! a whole lot of nothing. The amazing city of Jollywood is really the happiest place on Earth. I will tell you why. Because in the United States of America we are blessed with a unique  assembly of liberties and this is ground zero where the clash between liberties and personal freedoms occurs on a daily basis. For ten years I’ve watched it play out between skateboarders and city park staff. Between city employees who are really just trying to do their underpaid jobs, while at the same time, help these same kids develop some kind of personal growth with the backdrop of rampant, unbridled capitalism to misguide these under-parented children whose parents are simply struggling to put food in their mouths [period]. Sometimes I feel honored to be a witness to all this melodrama, while at other times I just feel like a victim!

Well the joke is on me. Neither the parents nor the kids give a hoot. In fact, most Americans don’t realize that this wee patch of land called Hollywood (zip code 90028) is  a big microcosm; or is it a tiny macrocosm of America’s culture clash? Here is where races, genders, belief systems, morals and the kitchen sink, collide, bounce against one another and spew new perspectives, and ideas. The energy and the tension are palpable. Here is where rent controlled properties are being quietly squeezed out by new luxury condos and apartment complexes.

Versus

Social Services? Whu? Police Protection? Huh?

The woman who is the subject of the two videos is a neighborhood fixture. It’s sad because she needs help. Serious help. And so does our neighborhood. In my make-believe world, one would call the police and report that a women is in severe distress and needs psychiatric and social services support. The police would come, and put her in restraints with the help of some kind of Emergency Medical Transport. From there she would be brought in front of a judge. Clearly the woman is incompetent and unable to make rational decisions on her own behalf. The judge would send her to the Los Angeles County Hospital. There she would be admitted for observation and treatment. After about two weeks of psychopharmacological intervention, as well as two or three interviews a week, she would be reassessed and sent to a half-way house transitional care to prepare her for life as productive member of society, or released to her family, in a worst case scenario- hospitalized for a longer period of time and put in the care of the State of California.

The Old County Hospital

Dream on!

Here is what really happens:

  • I call the cops four times on June 25, 2010 (give or take a day).
  • They can’t find the tree she is living under, despite detailed instructions, descriptions and the fact that I am not the only person who has called the police on her.
  • After the second call, I am asked to meet the police in front of my building in order to show them where she is.
    • For one thing, you can hear her from the front of our building.
    • When I hobble down there with my cane, they’ve already left.
  • I call a third time. The dispatcher keeps telling me “Hold on, hold on, hold on” in some weird mantra-like fashion.
    • I ask him, “Why do you keep telling me to “hold on?”
    • Angrily, he replies, “Well, then hang up if you want to.”
    • I want to hang up and I do so.
  • After waiting another 15 to 20 minutes to see if the police are going to respond to my complaint, I conclude that they will not, so I call them again.
  • Again I am asked to meet them in front of my building.
    • This time they are actually in front of the building!
    • I pulled my So-Happy-To-See-You face out of my pocket and insert it in front of my I-Really-Am-Sick-Of-This face.
  • I am then subjected to the kind of creepy and humiliating treatment that borders on the Bad Lieutenant behavior.
    • The passenger says my name three times, “Are you blah blah blah?”
    • I affirm that I am blah blah blah.
    • He responds, “My partner is gonna love this.”
    • They are intrigued that I know her name. I tell them that we’ve both lived here for over ten years.
    • I try to bolster my reputation and standing in the community when I tell them that I operate a blog – ta dah! thehollyblog!
    • While the passenger laughs and repeats the name like it’s a stupid joke. The driver says, “I don’t know what a blog is.”
    • I just laugh and respond, “She’s around the corner, underneath the big tree on your left. Just follow her screaming.”
  • They pull off. I watch from my window as they simply run her off of the property.

After I go to bed, my sleep is interrupted by her screaming and usual carrying on. To quote Shakespeare’s As You Like It, “All the world’s a stage.” Or even more glum, Macbeth’s soliloquy when he states,

Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

Protected: At least I have a lawyer, instead of an IV

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Britney, Oh Britney


I guess it wouldn’t be a blog about Hollywood, if I didn’t nod my head to a woman whose life is an industry. More than even Princess Diana, people are fascinated by this white trash child that crashed and burned in the ruthless (and heavily polluted) Hollywood skies.

Here’s my favorite quote from the Daily News, “Spears arrived at the neuro-psychiatric unit Thursday with a police escort that cost taxpayers a reported $25,000.” Please give me a break! Tax-payers pay out the nose for shabby low class state legislaturers to go on lovely junkets. God only knows how much of our dough is being diverted to the Governator’s political jaugernaut! I think Brittany’s ride was well worth the tax-payers dollars. Wanna know why? Our brave Los Angeles Fire and Rescue would do the same for me at the same tax-payer’s expense. Firefighters should be making a mint, not Britney. But I guess that’s another story for another day.

Poor sick thing that Britney is- she’s still practically a child herself and I feel really sorry for her; however, she should have had the wherewithall from the begining to surround herself with loyal, competent people who would handle her business. I wonder how much of her money has and will go down the drain (by that I mean lawyer fees). I’m sure she’s also lavished tons of money on worthless hangers-on that this type seems to attract.


So now here we are. Where is Britney, the human being? Well, after consistently losing it in public on a bi-weekly basis; even in front of millions of t.v. viewers. Everybody knew that someone had to step in. She’s in the clink and her father’s got the key.

Disturbing reports that she may suffer from bipolar disorder start to take the laugh out of all the tabloid fodder. I am certain that her situation is 100% centered around her meds- getting the right ones in her, in order to stabilize her thinking. How do I know her thinking is screwy? I’ve been doing my homework, like the rest of America, and watched Britney’s every crazy step. Once the riddle of her meds is untied, the next step is to keep a sharp eye on her until the medications really sink in. I’m betting that she’s getting mighty big doses of lithium along with some high tech anti-psychotic like Zeprexa. God! What I’d give to she her medical chart!

Good luck to you Britney. I think by now most people feel badly for you. I don’t think most people are laughing at your situation. Along with all your fans, I hope that you get better soon!