I GOT SCAMMED || SAINTS & SINNERS TONIGHT!

HAVEN'T BEEN SCAMMED IN A FEW YEARS. A crackhead posing as a high school gym teacher in a Brooklyn liquor store greased five bucks off me for some dead kid's funeral, stole a rose on his way out and jumped in a cab like he was late for a flight to Mauritius.

In my defense, I was two hours into four mushroom caps, and he was holding a clipboard.

So I guess I was due for the bamboozling I received at the hands of a blowhard ex-Navy SEAL with an arm cast that I met at the bar on the Amtrak train I caught Wednesday to "A Whale's Vagina" a.k.a. Sandy Aygo. For the full account, check the movie above, recorded from the San Diego-Coronado Island Ferry which we were already sitting on when we realized we'd been made. Sound quality improves about thirty seconds in, so turn your volume up and stop crying.

In my defense, he said there'd be free beer.

Saints & Sinners tonight! 10899 Venice Blvd, corner of Kelton. No cover. Good music. You know, the music you're humming while you're listening to crappy music. Tomorrow night I'm at The Central S.A.P.C. a.k.a. 14 Below for the new millennium. Santa Monica Blvd. at the corner of 14th. Read all about it here. Also no cover. Also good music. Coincidence?

I'M DJING THIS SATURDAY AT THE CENTRAL (a.k.a. 14 Below), SANTA MONICA

The Central Social And Pleasure Club, 1348 14th St. (website)

DURING ITS FINAL DECADE, 14 BELOW may have been best known as the bar people enter thinking it's The Room, one door over. Every few minutes after nightfall, a gaggle of gift-wrapped Montana transplants lucky to find their way off the UCLA campus would stumble through the front door and almost faint - first at the sight of a dive bar that an interior decorator had nothing to do with, second at the smell - before the bartender would direct them toward the velvet ropes across the parking lot. Two plusses to the joint were the location and the stage and sound system, and now that it's under new management as The Central Social And Pleasure Club, I may be sleeping in my Aurora off 14th and Santa Monica somewhat regularly from here on. Great car, but the seatbelt latch digs in your ribs all night.

The Central S.A.P.C. is under the auspices of Colleen Ford, Saints & Sinners' newish bartender with the big... smile and the limp pouring wrist, and she's shooting for a New Orleans vibe, which is where my "deejay" "career" began, in case you ever wondered where I got all this funk from. So of course she called me up to christen the place officially this Saturday. $5 is the magic number for carbombs and well drinks all night, and Robert Wilson of The Gap Band died today, so don't request "Bizarre Love Triangle" unless you want your foot stepped on. I met The Happiest Person In The World the last time I dj'ed there, and I don't think venue endorsements get better than that. Palms residents: the Oldsmobile departs at 8pm; book your spot early.

"HOT WOMEN/BAD RAPPERS" f. CHRIS CLARKE | SUM

Hot women, I'm a friend to them
when they come by they got my attention and
can't front like I'm not into them
I'm trying to work, please stop mentioning em
I ain't with the hollering and whistling
I just talk sense with em, do a little listening
then it's a short walk to the crib and figure how to drop some of this Dr Spock into them
I can't win with them, there's no end to them
there's no break man, there's no interim
then again, this is LA, we invented em
and that’s the shit right there, who the fuck is Edison
back in the day I was one of the minutemen
ate em like M&Ms, stroked their hair and singed to them
now I got stamina, I might injure them
isn’t my intention but I flip over them hot women.

Women are my gasoline, the only reason I keep my fucking house clean
the only reason I’m wearing these corny ass jeans
the only reason I do damn near anything
I think about me and three chicks
I feel like Martin Luther King on some 'I have a dream' shit
I ain’t tryna make it a habit
but if I can’t try the shit once pass me a casket
that’s one of them rapper perks
I ain't in this to battle you outta work rapper jerks
do it for the love, right
yeah I do it for the love alright.
I do it for the love of bossy chicks with glossy lips
toe rings and nose rings and those are the only rings
sorry I was late but I saw this girl, oooohwee
my pants got dewy so I busted a U-ie.

Thinking we in back of you?
actually, we just about to lap you
feel that tap on your shoulder, that’s a rap soldier
we put the little hat on ya like it’s Passover, class over
in Cali that’s called smashola
I stay there while yall stay on that cola
that’s how you cats roll, skinny jeans itchy assholes you got next? where you at though?
fuck's new about you?
you chronic 2001 without the guns
you wannabe Mannie Fresh but your panties too wet, about to cum
pushy like you never had pussy, calm down some
and you underground cats, check your ultrasound
you’re stillborn, still running round yellin "Buck Em Down"
get this through your fucking crown, we ain’t you
that goes for you clown writers too
this ain’t Facebook so don’t tag me, it’s tacky
I rhyme over "Apache" live in downtown Karachi
box me in if you got a coffin to drop me in
otherwise fuck you guys, right on the chin.

JANET DANDRIDGE and THE QUEST for the HOLY TURKEYBURGER.

IF I HAD A PENNY FOR EVERY TIME JANET DANDRIDGE HAS SAID THE WORD "TURKEYBURGER", I WOULD OWN EVERY TURKEY IN THE WORLD. IF I HAD A NICKEL FOR EVERY TIME JANET HAS SAID THE WORD "TURKEYBURGER", I WOULD OWN THE COPYRIGHTS TO THE WORD "TURKEYBURGER". IF I HAD A QUARTER FOR EVERY TIME JANET HAS SAID THE WORD "TURKEYBURGER", I WOULD OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE DNA GENOME SEQUENCE OF THE COMMON TURKEY. AND IF YOU HAD A DOLLAR FOR EVERY TIME I JUST WROTE THE WORD "TURKEYBURGER", YOU WOULD HAVE ENOUGH MONEY FOR HALF A TURKEYBURGER AT GOLDEN STATE. CHECK JANET'S PHOTO WORK OUT AT janetedandridge.com.

Not quite turkey burger heaven, but dang-gone close

Mmmm mmmm delicious. Good ol' hand-made turkey burgers and jalapeno cole slaw -- awwww yeah!! First I must ask, do you know how good a turkey burger is? I do. Turkey burgers for me are like a party in my mouth after a long week of work for the man – they make me feel soooo good. Turkey burgers are like receiving your Ph.D., you just wanna party when it's all over. Turkey burgers are God's gift to those folks who can not eat the other meat. I think that if everyone had a turkey burger at least once a month, the world would be a better place -- okay, okay, a little extreme, but I'm sayin' tho. It's great that burgers are a staple in Los Angeles, it's one of the reasons why I enjoy residing in this crazy place – the number of choices I have to find and savor the flavor of the best turkey burger.

So, my quest to find the best turkey burger ever led me to West Los Angeles, near Fairfax High School. I had the pleasure of eating my lunch the other day at a cute, eclectic, and hip little space on Fairfax Blvd below Melrose called Golden State. My friend Harold introduced me to this spot, and to Harold, I say thank you! When we were walking down the street to find Golden State, we almost passed it because there isn't a good visible sign on the front door/window, it looks more like a storefront if anything, but do not let the outside fool you! As soon as you actually locate the spot and step thru the front door, the aroma of good food smacks you in the face, in addition to the modern art along the walls, and open kitchen -- I always like it when I can see people cooking my food, it just makes the entire experience better. So, I go up to the front and check out the menu. Immediately, I see that I can order a turkey burger, and then as I read down the page, I see something new that I haven't ever seen before, jalapeno slaw. At first I thought it wasn't a good look, burning my tongue would not leave me capable of tasting the wonderful flavors of American cuisine. So, I asked the dude at the counter (whom I found out later was the owner) what he preferred, and he said exactly what I was thinking - the jalapeno slaw. So, I ordered my turkey burger, jalapeno slaw, and water. Harold and I took our number and sat at the table patiently waiting for the experience to begin. When we got the food, I just looked it over and knew that it was going to be good. My fork dipped into the slaw and I slipped a little bit of it into my mouth just to see what kind of flavor I was getting. . Awesome! I dislike mayonnaise with a passion, and at Golden State, I didn’t taste any mayonnaise in the slaw, they use some type of vinegar, lemon, and season blend that proved to be great! Then there was the turkey burger -- even though it tasted like a regular well-seasoned burger with fixins, it went perfectly with the jalapeno slaw. The turkey burger was hand-crafted for goodness sake...OMG! I ate my meal in like 15 minutes! If it wouldn't have been insane for me to order another burger (or if I wasn't dining with someone else), I would have. Unfortunately, the experience had to come to an end when I saw that my actual plate was clean, but I knew that I would be coming back there sooner than later to get something else. On a scale from 1 - 10, 10 being best, I give this place an 8. So try some Golden State, you might just like it.

JANET'S TASTY TIP: Go to Golden State for lunch: 429 N. Fairfax, Los Angeles. The burgers are $10 and good! But if you feel like $10 is too much for a burger, just go to the grocery store, buy some meat and seasonings, and make it an awesome mid-week lunch. You'll save money and enjoy your homemade cuisine. But still, go to Golden State to treat yourself at some point.

Golden State: thegoldenstatecafe.com
Whole Foods: wholefoodsmarket.com
Trader Joe's: traderjoes.com

ONLY STAY WITH ME AWHILE.

Westwood Blvd between Charnock and Venice

LOCAL DRUNK FALLS, DIES || SAINTS & SINNERS TONIGHT!

NO, I DIDN'T DIE.

from the LA Times Homicide Blog via Cindy "Kneecaps" Morales:

Martin Garcia, 43
Died July 30, 2010

10817 Venice Blvd. Martin Garcia, a 43-year-old Latino, died Friday, July 30, two days after he sustained blunt force trauma in the 10000 block of Venice Boulevard in Palms, according to Los Angeles County coroner's records. [For the record: The coroner's office said they initially believed Garcia's death was a homicide; however, during the investigation it was revealed to have been accidental.] On July 28, the Fire Department found Garcia on the sidewalk with trauma to his head, said LAPD Pacific Det. Mark Morgan, who handled the investigation. Garcia was taken to a hospital where it was discovered he had a fracture to the skull. He died two days later, Morgan said. Investigators went to the scene where Garcia was found to get more information about his injuries. While interviewing witnesses, it was revealed Garcia was intoxicated when he fell to the ground and hit his head.

That was on The Block (map/story) across from Bamboo, nowhere near the corner in the picture above, a photo I took of a homeless man sleeping downtown, used here for the man-on-concrete visual. This reminds me of the guy who decided to fall asleep on Glendon Ave. a couple years back. I can relate; I love lying in the street. I took a stretch in the middle of Hauser Blvd. off Jefferson the other night during Franky's birthday bonfire at Juan's place, which, fortunately for me, has scant traffic around midnight. You just have to be careful about how fast you lie down. Rest in peace, Mr Garcia.

I'm just glad it wasn't a homicide after all. Been hearing gunshots around here lately.

On that note, a hearty rest in peace to Bootsy's brother Catfish Collins, rhythm guitarist for numerous classics by James Brown and Parliament/Funkadelic a.k.a. the soundtrack to my life. He passed today from ill health. Here's a clip of him performing under James Brown for the very first time, x hours before he got the call from the King himself, and looking about as happy as I've ever seen a human being.

Saints & Sinners tonight, and you can probably guess what direction the playlist is going. Yep: the same direction it goes every fucking Friday, with or without the death of a funk legend. I'm on at ten. Come on down. I'm in a mood.

PS: Was set to write a scathing attack on the butch Starbucks cashier who never exchanges niceties with me, but today she wants to get all talkative. "Must be hot out there; you never get iced coffee." Cute. You could have started rocking the "speak loudly, I'm hearing impaired" apron a little earlier. Just saying.

SLOE POKE/SPYE tonite at BAMBOO.. and some other stuff.

HERE'S A SITE REDESIGN FOR THOSE OF YOU CONSTANTLY BLEATING "your site's so hard too read". I fear, however, that anyone who finds white text on black backgrounds hard to read is in for a rocky life, so I hope, for your sakes, that you were just being persnickety. Actually, the real reason I redesigned is because I got tired of every blog but mine having those damn Facebook 'like' buttons, and some code in my old template was stymieing installation. So there is now a 'like' button under each post, and it only took August 4, 2010, a long chat conversation with a desparate Indian web developer and a temporary case of carpal tunnel syndrome. So click those buttons until your wrist feels like mine, and your little brother might accidentally stumble on here for a few seconds around Christmas. I'm an Internet attention whore and I'm standing up.

You'll also notice the background is now a list of Westside street names, instead of the list of musicians it used to be. Well, that's assuming you noticed that the background was a list of musicians back when it was a list of musicians, which is probably not something I should bet on. In any case, I intentionally misspelled one street name, and there's a prize for the first person who's not Janet Dandridge who brought it to my attention who can find it. I don't know what that prize is yet. But it shouldn't be too contagious. Morton's Neuroma isn't airborne, according to my uncle. I chipped a tooth the other day, but that was from trying to pry the head off that ginseng vial. My wisdom teeth keep clamping on my cheek flesh this week though. Happens one week a year. I can't call it. But some kind of insect has bitten me head to toe, and Franamami hasn't been bitten once. So your prize will probably be a swig from my new metal flask that's been saving me $200 a week, and there's no reason to worry.

Speaking of insects, dead roaches and crickets are turning up in my apartment. I see them and assume Panther Stance, reaching airily for a flat object, but they're already dead, like lying-on-their-back-legs-upturned-like-in-cartoons dead. What does this mean?

Speaking of Franamami, she tried repeatedly and failed to get me to say the word "nig" this morning. She had spewed a nasty racialist epithet at me moments earlier and invited my revenge. But the n-bomb is like cocaine: you never ever go anywhere near it under any circumstances whatsoever, no matter what anyone tries to tell you. 'Niggardly' ("grudgingly mean about spending or granting") is fair game, but try using it loudly in a sentence at Starbucks and see how fast the world mutes.

Oh, about tonight. Sloe Poke of Root Down/Resident Friday/Sonido fame is spinning alongside Club Feng Shui's DJ Spye, and if Bamboo's owner keeps his word, it'll be the last night he allows dancing, as Bamboo has no dancing license and he's getting cold feet (ha) about it. Starting next week we're going loungey: cheap drinks, top-notch food served late, chill vibe. So tonight marks the end of an era: a rather short, dimly lit era, but an era nonetheless. So come break a leg with us one last time so Sloe Poke won't have to come over and break them for you.

Apologies for slipping on the daily updates. Roughly a third of my life's work got erased when I moved servers last week, so I'm in the trenches. I even quit my voiceover class. I'm in no mood to pay $500 to drive to Burbank so an insurance salesman can show me their Mickey Mouse impersonation.

I wonder if this new bright blog design will make my writing happier.

download: "SLUMDOGS" f. P.U.D.G.E. | ALI BABA ABNORMAL | prod by JON WAYNE

the eighth song from the new mixtape AYATOLLAH PRESLEY
recording and releasing a new song every Monday.

Also featured on P.U.D.G.E.’s I Didn’t Even Know You Rap mixtape, dropping 8/10/2010 at pudge222.bandcamp.com

If you like this song:
post the link on Twitter and tag your friends and me
post the link on Facebook and tag your friends and me
forward this email to your friends and cc me

THE 2 PEOPLE WHO SHARE IT THE MOST WILL HEAR THEIR NAME IN NEXT WEEK’S SONG.

Malkovich, I’m bout this shit

out to get them won’t fit in your motherfucking trouser chips

throw my mixtape in your whip and blow your speakers just to see how loud it get

you talking turn it down, a bit stop talking like a bitch ten buck, buy my shit, gimme cash, gimme credit card

fuck it, wire it, fuck the environment

you talking bout trees, I’m talking bout me

so kick a panda in the knee and buy my fucking CD.

I get boisterous off poisonous beverages, ah yes

I’m banging the Pointer Sisters, I ain’t talking about their records

your only choice is us, me and my boys are plush

I bring the news like Reuters and my voice is a plus

De Niro in your earhole ’cause the world needs a hero

I’m virile, better she share a ten than deal with them zeroes

you make music for Euros, music for eight-year-olds

fucking with the bureau, they gon put you on a mural

west coast, west los, put this in your next post

internet rap mufukas is in their death throes

my tactic, flood the market with gutter hard shit

cold as the Arctic, long as my fucking heart tick.