Perils of Life in Los Angeles (Part 1)

Los Angeles. What can I say about the city of corruption, of filth, of savages? Los Angeles has a reputation, a myth, a legend of sorts -- it is the land of endlessly sunny days, tall palm trees wading in the cool Pacific breeze. People wear sunglasses and smile. The perfect brochure to lure fools searching for gold. Truth is, LA will swallow you whole, and you too, will join and be one with the sordid conditions of the city.

There are Republicans, and even more Democrats, and even more powerless victims. Quarrels ensue in the name of a government for the the people and by the people, but in the end, everyone knows, the scapegoats are plain to see. The deserving poor, the ones not speaking the language, the ones with different colored skin, the ones who don't have houses on the beach. Cut public education. Cut the arts and music. Kill the animals at the shelter, ASAP. Don't give them a chance to be found!

The blaming game continues. Who mishandled what budget and what movie star governor is definitely not terminating his staff, and in fact, increasing their pay. Fingers are pointed, but nothing gets accomplished. A seemingly civilized witch hunt for everything. Outwardly civil, inwardly evil.

You'd think of bronzed gods and buxom beauties, strutting down the streets in a lux saunter, flashing pearly white teeth, waving as though they were on a pageant. Instead, the truth is that toothless and homeless dwell, covered in insane amounts of dirt and dust, overlooked unless they scare you with the flashing of the whites of their eyes.

Restaurants proudly display a letter grade of "A" on their windows, a grade lower and even baser than the scarlet letter, because it is bought not earned. Back alleys are crowded with roach colonies, some big as mice. You can hear them run when you turn on the lights, their hairy legs brushing against the darkness, stealthily.