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Don’t Fuck With Me! Hollywood Police Community Relations

It’s open season on anybody who isn’t a cop in Hollywood. Who’s got us in the cross-hairs? Why, it’s the police of course. They treat homeless people like dirt. They treat everybody else worse. Don’t let them pull you over or they’ll tow your car at the drop of a hat. Don’t say anything except, “Sir, yes Sir!” or your ass is grass. Any encounter with a Hollywood cop will end in public humiliation at best, a good beating perhaps and even arrest. Say “Cop!” in Hollywood and it’s as bad as yelling “Fire!” People will scatter like ants in the wake of boiling water. Let’s add some multimedia to this posting to give it some meat, or should I say, “edge?”

When I see a black and white police car coming my way, all I do is lower my head in an attitude of complete submission. To do otherwise is to invite hellfire to rain upon my head.

Then let us not forget about the intrusive ghetto birds, also known as police helicopters. Oh, how they stir up the skies above my head, and shine their lights into my pad. They are responsible for many an interrupted night’s sleep.

How fun was that?

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My Cross Street Rocks!

And at all hours!

© Russell Smith, 2011

Every Sunday to Thursday evening, they’re out there, pulling over scofflaws- people who run stop signs, exceed 25 mph in a residential area and drivers under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol (DUI). Hollywood, in case you haven’t heard, is a cesspool of homelessness, drugs, crime and tourists. They’ve opened up so many nightclubs that on the weekends it is DUI heaven up in here. And you can quote me on that. The cops don’t really enforce the law, so much as pick up the pieces of people who need some repairs, whether it’s their bodies, their cars or both. The sound of the ghetto birds cheers the heart all through the weekend, along with its close friend the siren-bird whose lilting dulcet sounds can be heard all over Hollywood every night of the week.

© Russell Smith, 2011


There he is, our propellor-driven friend, keeping the skies and streets of Hollywood safe.

© Russell Smith, 2011

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?

Post-Halloween Report

Well the man brought in the Heat


I fled Hollywood for my resort in Ventura, just 90 mins away. So I am unaware of anything untoward happening in Hollywood.

I’ve noticed that the Times rarely reports on happenings in Hollywood. Does that anything to do with the rejuvenation project that the developers have dumped billions into? hmmmmmm I’m tired of thinking. It makes my head hurt.
I posted this picture on FB already and I don’t want to include it with Beautiful Pictures, even though it is definitely going into Flickr.

Who doesn't love macaroni and cheese?

Don’t forget to vote Democratic across the board today!

Hollywood is about filming

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign!


You’ve been given full warning!

Security is tight!


Just how many NCIS’s are there?

And then one more video, if you please.

Then Bob’s your uncle!

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.

You must thank the LAPD

Porn star plunges to death

AP Photo/Axel Koester

The video in this post is a bit tart. I wouldn’t recommend showing it to anybody who is either suicidal, or has a problem with seeing a man plunge to his death. Granted, the man in question was an utterly unsavory character. While his real name was Stephen Clancy Hill, he went by the stage name Steve Driver. He allegedly slashed one co-worker to death and injured 2 others. According to the L.A. Times, the man was going to be fired from his job. Besides being paid to have sex in front of cameras, he also earned money packaging his own and others’ videos at the pornography company’s production facility in Van Nuys. (To those readers who are unfamiliar with the San Fernando Valley, its number 1 export is pornography.) Apparently Mr. Hill was also facing eviction. I’m not saying that I feel sorry for this man; however, the LAPD was sent in to keep him from committing suicide, so that he could be arrested and face trial for his terrible crimes.

So while this man is teetering on the brink of a cliff, the nincompoop on the right with a gun shoots him with “a less than lethal munition,” according to the AP. Of great interest to all the news outlets is the fact that all of Mr. Hill’s victims were co-stars with him and each other.

It only gets worse. “Sources familiar with the investigation but not authorized to speak publicly said Hill had a history of violence that included a 1999 assault-with-a-firearm conviction for threatening to kill one of his college instructors for not giving him an A. Hill, of Riverdale, Md., allegedly told the University of Maryland instructor that he was ‘a mobster and would dismember the instructor’s body if he didn’t get the grade,’ according to a 1999 story in the Washington Post.” As a Marylander and alumnus of the University of Maryland, College Park, I can only lower head in shame. I wonder if he ever completed a degree program? Threatening a professor for a grade is the lowest form of grade grubbing. I wonder who dropped the ball and let this guy back out on the streets back in 1999?

Mr. Stephen Clancy Hill fell to his death in scenic Chatsworth, California.

Al Seib/Los Angeles Times