Venice and Westwood

'Serious' if you're feeling hoody.

For serious though, the local trash situation has improved. Wasn't but a Republican administration ago that the stretch of sidewalk from Cafe Brasil to my mayoral compound was more Trojan than concrete, and that grass thicket surrounding the electricity box that keeps porn on my desktop housed so much furniture that I briefly considered living there. Somebody hit the wall that separates the lot from our building with their car, which may or may not have been an attempt to kill Janet, whose bedroom lies just beyond. We can't know for sure. In any event, the resulting brick pile, in tandem with the basin formation the ground takes on the way out of the lot towards the Trashly Grass Pile, created a virtual DMZ of mud, refuse, rubble, bodily fluid and children's clothing that most people happily walked into oncoming traffic to avoid. The recent picture above captures the area at the most orderly I've ever seen it. You may actually be looking at someone's closet, although I haven't seen Jesse the Parking Lot King wearing a zebra-striped fur coat. At least, not in a while. So yeah. God knows I didn't clean shit up, but this is my block and I'm taking full credit, in case 'Mother Earth' or 'Uncle Topsoil' is paying attention to what us humans are doing, which I doubt. She's been around for four and a half billion years, folks. I think she'll be ok.

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