Interesting People mailing list archives

IP: I hear America singed


From: Dave Farber <dave () farber net>
Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2001 20:45:56 -0500



From: "Janos.Gereben" <janos451 () earthlink net>
To: "jg" <janos451 () earthlink net>
Subject: I hear America singed
Date: Sun, 28 Jan 2001 09:35:31 -0800
X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.50.4522.1200

At the end of a week-long trip, I had several strange experiences in the
exotic, fabled Southland. Most of the 120-mile stretch from Palm Spring to
Los Angeles offers severely limited opportunities to the radioholic:
mariachi, Rush and his ilk, and religious programs. I cannot be sure of the
lyrics I heard when the dial stopped momentarily on music stations, but all
(please note: all) other stations had only one topic on this fine morning, a
week after the Bushauguration. The abomination of Bill Clinton.

Yes, Rush and pals are in a time warp, obsessed with evil incarnate, even
after eight years, even after the man is gone. No mention of Bush or anyone
else. No other topic. It's like a never-ending spasm, and the preachers are
raging on too, backtracking from the pardons, connecting the dots back to
Monica and to Arkansas stories 20 years ago, then contrasting it all with
the pure being manifested in St. John the Ashcroft. Here's a bet: check the
airwaves in the desert a year from now. Or two. It will be the same. Forever
and ever, amen.

I SEE AMERICA GATED

There is a striking similarity between La Quinta during the day and LA at
night: empty streets. The Palm Springs suburb consists of gated communities,
walled in and guarded, and a main street of fast-food restaurants for those
working inside the fortresses. The neutron-bombed LA downtown is something
that stuns me every time; in the middle of a huge metropolis, I walked three
miles and saw seven people. But even during the day, from among the
thousands working in the downtown skyscrapers, almost nobody ventures out.
People drive into the well-guarded basements in the morning, drive home to
their gated communities in the evening. Whatever may bother you about
London, New York, San Francisco or any real city, just check out LA, and
count your blessings.

I SENSE AMERICA FUTURE

You *can* see people on the streets (which, to me, is what a city is about),
but you have to go to Chinatown, Little Tokyo, the Korean quarter or visit
the sections where only Spanish is spoken. That's where life is... where the
future is. "America" was built by the most daring (and most desperate) from
England, Ireland, Germany, and so on. The same kind of people from China,
Korea, Vietnam, Central America will be the "America" of tomorrow. Then, if
they are as successful as the immigrants of the past turned out to be,
perhaps they too will go from safety to safety, leaving the streets empty.

(A tip for retro-romantics on a budget and hungry in the empty night of LA:
at Figueroa and Ninth Street, for the 76th year stands The Pantry, open even
after the "late spots" close at 8. It serves huge piles of meat with
mountains of peas and mashed potato under lakes of gravy, in the manner of
the lamented Forties, for under $10. The place, the menu - on the wall, of
course - the waiters, the prices. it's all out of some old movie. This being
LA, perhaps The Pantry *is* part of a movie set.)


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Janos Gereben/SF, CA
janos451 () earthlink net



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