YOU ALL KNOW I LOVE ME SOME CALIFORNIA. First, I don't take it for granted. L.A. natives roll their eyes and say stuff like, "another ride down Sunset? Like, oh my God" while I'm across town all aflutter, like "Wow. I'm at a DMV... In America." We could have moved to Omaha and it would still have been the coolest thing ever. The fact that my mother moved us to Los fucking Angeles - which was only the center of the universe that smokey summer of 1992 - blew my pimple-ridden thirteen-year-old head off my sunken shoulders and I've been running around the Southland like a decapitated chicken trying to find it ever since. If not for my mother's infinite wisdom, I might be a suave London executive (complete with ladykiller accent) or a rich architect in Iran instead of a 31-year-old unmarried aspiring rapper with a slight drinking problem. Hold on, let me rewind that back.

For real though, when New Yorkers dis L.A., I just wanna shove a dirty sock in their mouth, tie that American Apparel cardigan around their throat and hang them off the balcony like Saddam.

People don't leave Malibu for Manhattan. That's all I know. 

But if you're trying to have a good time, and your idea of a good time is loud music, drinking, smoking and/or wild animals, California is a real pain in the ass, man. Hollywood sells L.A. as some international party mecca, but those parties are only for famous people and the people who suck their dicks, and the music is just the pits. California may be a "liberal" state, but it turns out that rich, white liberals are basically conservatives with a better DVD collection. My cousin just moved into a sexy-ass Marina Del Rey condo a stone's throw from the beach and can't turn the music up after sundown. We can't take the dog on the sand, and it can't come hiking either. We just had the hottest day in Los Angeles history. Think we could get some kind of daytime beach party, like the Vegas hotels do? Not a chance. Just stand in the water and try not to admire the view too loudly. I'm trying to die over here.

Soon you won't even be able to smoke outdoors. Isn't that why the outdoors was fucking invented?

Two of my cousins - girls in their early 20s - are visiting from Iran to see if they wanna move here since they just got green cards, so I'm trying to wow them with L.A. People get jailed and horsewhipped for partying in Iran, and their scene remains, by all accounts, much more exciting than ours. We just got back from Palm Springs, where our family spent the weekend at a house we rented with a beautiful pool. Music outdoors was forbidden. The house rulebook said "earphones are your best bet."

Downtown cops basically barred our buddies at R&R Gallery from ever attempting another event after the opening night of their Bill Murray exhibit was a little too successful. Oh, and they're probably shutting down the Downtown Artwalk, only far and away the biggest draw that area has had since the invention of crack. Broke-ass L.A. is in no position to kill business. Melrose Ave. is a ghosttown of raver pants and rhinestone-studded v-necks. Been to Venice Boardwalk lately? It's not just wack rappers begging for people to buy their shit anymore. Shop owners are right next to them, offering backrubs and free samples. Some middle-aged guy holding a '99c pizza slice' sign called me a cheapskate.

Then again, New York is trying to ban salt. So maybe we're doing alright.

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