The Haves and Have Nots of the Los Angeles dirtscape

There are many directions I can point in guiding you to the signs and markers which demonstrate how Los Angeles is one of the greatest Third World cities in the United States. I believe the strongest indicator is the vast empty gulf that resides between the Haves and Have Nots in this town. This dichotomy, while afflicting the normal inventory of material items and status symbols, also hides another layer of Third World polarization which thrives in the Los Angeles-scape. The phenomena of Haves and Have Nots also applies to the social niches which strongly demarcate where each citizen resides on the societal hierarchy. Where do you shop, what do you drive, where do you exercise, what do you do for leisure and entertainment, where do you live…the list is endless. The span between the two cultural “teams” present in this town is astounding.

I was reminded of this excruciating home-grown insight while reading a local news snippet concerning the vacation activities of the penultimate Third World mayor himself, Antonio Villaraigosa, and accounts of his hedonistic frolicking at the southern tip of Baja California while Los Angeles shivers under an onslaught of cold winter rain far from his mind. In fact, the machinery of daily Los Angeles’ workings always seems far from Villaraigosa’s easily diverted mind. And what is hedonistic frolicking without the able-bodied presence of the King of Hedonism, Charlie Sheen?

Badboy actor Charlie Sheen opened a new rooftop hotel bar down in San Jose del Cabo last night. Ordinarily, who would care? Certainly not us. But Sheen tweeted a photo of himself this morning with an arm around a visitor from Los Angeles: the mayor. “Antonio Villaraigosa knows how to party!” Sheen tweeted. The grand opening party featured guitarist Slash and included other visitors from the states. The bar and hotel are located in the port of Los Cabos near Cabo San Lucas on the southern tip of Baja California.

KPCC News, which I think first picked up on the tweet, says that a Villaraigosa spokesperson confirmed el jefe is in Mexico and will return on January 2.

And if we needed more distasteful proof than local public radio and blogs can provide, we are also treated to a scintillating photograph of the Los Angeles he-duo striking a juvenile pose ensconced within their little tropical playpen over 900 miles from “home base.”

I am tired of this city. It’s a big phony piece of artificial plastic crap and the cultural and political “leaders” do absolutely nothing to uphold the slightest iota of dignity.

Speaking of dignity, what on Earth is with Tony V’s tan line? Or was he wearing an undershirt? Regardless, I vomited a little when I saw it.

These are the Los Angeles “Haves.”

These are the greasy-haired scumbags with open collars and flamboyant, superficial embraces and white smiles that feast on the steady supply of women, drugs and money in order to substantiate and excuse their dearth of character and stoicism. These are boys in men’s bodies. Lest anyone fixate on my alleged misogyny, I’d like to note that the poor quality of the modern female does not occur in a vacuum. Behind her character, carefully enabling and rewarding it, is the collective rambunctious modern male persona of immaturity, vanity, shallowness and impulsiveness. These are the Haves, these are the men of industry and government. They are fixated on “Game” and they spout all the Game BS but there is little spine or substance to their fanciful business trips or weekend club-hopping. The extroverts with no soul drive the social calendar and on the other side, the Have Nots fade into the shadows.

Los Angeles is a cruel city for the Have Nots, for all the “men” have staked out the sandbox.

Using EBT to explain racial crime statistics

“Occasionally” I don’t practice suitable caution, and perhaps, I even throw it wildly to the wind. I’m a measured kinda guy but there are times I lose myself.

This blogosector I find myself in is soothing and familiar and most of my opinions and views are relatively blurred within the general monochromatic ideologies, meaning that I have become very acclimated at spouting off stuff which in “normal, civil” society would be scoffed at and rebuffed with enmity and ridicule. I can’t help it. Sometimes I find a comment board in mainstream discussions that draw me in and boy, do I get swatted down every time!

In fact, here in Los Angeles, a story appeared in our local news recently that involved the rape of a young girl, and the suspect was unsurprisingly a man “of color.” After reading the copy, I dove into the comment section. The first one was an inflammatory bit of ire that essentially accused Black men of innate criminality. The next comment rose self-righteously in typical leftist reactive condemnation of the first commenter for being “sick” and a “racist” in addition to the usual toolset of shaming terms the modern liberal apologist slings at anyone who points out cold racial data. I jumped in, using my Socially Extinct moniker and blog link in order to come to the “defense” of first (rather politically incorrect) commenter. I argued that apparently the Left thought it more important to defend the honor of the Black suspect rather than the well-being of the rape victim. I observed that the suspect was “predictably” Black. I said this is something I knew instinctively while reading the story before it even informed of the suspect’s background.

I received a scathing wall of condemnations in response. I was called every name and received some thinly veiled threats. Worse, my arguments were refuted with oodles of pure stupidity in the way of ignorance and incomprehensibility.

Those who would defend, or at least try to mitigate, the disproportionate representation of Blacks and Hispanics on the “violent criminal” side of the ledger are best advised to defer to facts and the ruthless diligence of statistics before vomiting moronic arguments. There is a diffuse degeneration of cognitive clarity in their rambling, as well. They deviate from the linear row of logic and erect their own nonsensical and rootless narrative as a means of warming the pot for the ensuing barbs of verbal aggression and dramatics that drown out reason and intelligent discourse. This shit does nothing to help their argument other than eliciting bellows of concurrence from equally imbecilic “agree-ers.”

This is typical:

The “12% of the population not being able to cause all the crime” argument is tired. The anti-racist moron brigade is confounding the argument and the numbers. They seem incapable of comprehending the concepts of “percentage” and “ratio” and instead focus on the one value their little minds are capable of comprehending: stupid integers!

“Non-blacks committed xx crimes last year
Blacks committed x crimes last year
How can we say Blacks cause all the crime!?”

Oh, and they constantly assert the stupid notion that Blacks are convicted of more crimes as well. C’mon, even accounting for systemic and institutional prejudicial shortcomings, the disparity of Black vs. White convictions is not enough to offset the resounding preponderance of Black crime in relation to the Black population’s ratio as contrasted with the entire American population. Perhaps this is a difficult concept for some minds to comprehend, but why must they all have no understanding of the sociological statistics?

Perhaps the general concept can be amplified in a manner most of these people would understand:

Let’s say you and Joe both receive your EBT deposit on the same day. You both get a $200 bump but it turns out Joe’s old lady, Martha, and her 4-year-old son, Josh, moved into his pad yesterday. Your $200 is more valuable than Joe’s because you live alone and have no ready-made family. Each of your dollars means more. Joe’s dollars mean less because he will be taking care of more people. Think of it this way: EBT dollars are like the violent crime you commit. The more you commit, the less value they have for you. If you commit very few violent crimes, they are more valuable. Now the next mental step is really tricky: instead of inferring one person when I say “you,” imagine I’m talking about everyone that is your race.”

Walking into the room uninvited to slay the perpetual nanny

Something popped up on my news feed today.

I absolutely loathe it. My predictions will come to bear, damnit. Call me mother-efin Nostradamus.

Now, watch this sword-fight from CNN between the hunky Indian doctor (excuse the oxymoron), Sanjay Gupta, and the great queer hope, Anderson Cooper.

Essentially, the dueling nimrods are trying to justify the next stage of our burgeoning cultural hysteraucracy by explaining away the oppressive wonders of modern medical and scientific technology. They drip ladles of conjoined syrup on their garbage, but ultimately, their corrupt repertoire can be whittled down to the following paraphrase:

“Yeah, it sucks, but we should use modern science and medicine, when at all possible, to pigeonhole the strange and weird children into a predictable and visible Mass Murderer Track, because you know…it is the only way. We must prevent future carnage. Even if we err on the side of caution at least we have saved five million lives. (A synchronized pat on the back ensues).

And as if this guilt-ridden relinquishment of human autonomy hashed out by Biff and Nripa wasn’t extreme enough, the accompanying story, an alarming story, really, that details the freaky endeavors of so-called scientists at the University of Connecticut who have been enlisted by the Connecticut state government health nannies to deconstruct the DNA of dead mass murderer, Adam Lanza.

I hate, despise, this story because it demonstrates how desperately modern society feels compelled to account for all loose ends while simultaneously buttoning down all the hatches. The modern psyche is incapable of digesting the unknown, the unknowable, the unpredictable. I’ve seen this dynamic at work in younger generations. They are repulsed by ambiguity.

This is the result of technological advances which have slowly trained our monkeyhood that control and comprehension can be automated and displace our inborn evolved “weakness.”

One day, we will predict who the killers are among us.

But you know what?

Human ingenuity is formidable, dangerously so. It will always find a way to enter a room uninvited.

Empty Christmas

The other day, before Tuesday, before Monday, we were listening to the rain fall outside the open window. The sky was more white and endless than stormy murky.

“It doesn’t even feel like Christmas,” she said.

I thought about it.

“What is Christmas supposed to feel like?” I asked, somewhat rhetorically.

She mulled.

We were on the cusp of Christmas and it was blustery outside. “Christmasy” weather.

I thought I heard an ocean of cars, people, mobs of crazed persistence, I thought I heard cash registers pounding piston-like in unison to the barely suppressed rage of a billion mad consumers drowning out the the delicate jingles of the holiday bells.

“You know, that Christmas magic you felt when you were young. The music, the trees, the family…”

Yes, of course I remember the Christmas magic.

The warmth of the crowded house. The fragrant woodsy smell of the tree and the lingering aroma of food and the lilt of excitement and laughter and my young mind on the edge, the precipice of naive wonderment under the spell of gifts and elusive magic which cascaded through the dark cold sky outside, as close as I would ever come to magic.

Magic never lasts, for it is dead. It never was and never is.

I pounced, “Christmas is bullshit. This culture is shallow and materialistic. Christmas is only about sell sell sell buy buy buy. It’s about consuming and corporations getting rich.”

I drove home shortly thereafter while mentally keeping track of the shopping I still needed to accomplish.

Christmas is gutted. It’s the brittle shell of a dream I spun from my childhood imaginations but now it is dusty, barren, and utterly meaningless.

The capitalist fiends have seen to it, they have stolen Christmas and replaced it with an exaggerated pool of avarice that feasts on our impulsive wants while discarding our magical expectations like a naked carcass.

I knew a Mexican chick a few years ago who was doing OK for herself financially and her kids demanded the latest gizmos for Christmas with the entitled self-assurance of a gluttonous oligarch.

“Of course it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Christmas went away and left its empty twin behind.”

Panicky females and the invasion of the “hysteraucracy”

Females are hysterical!

They fly off the handle very easily. I feel comfortable with this assertion. This statement is justifiable and not grounds for misogyny, sorry. More than other “genderalizations,” I feel this is one of the more defensible.

Women take things too seriously. It’s as if they really believe they have any control over this life. Women make horrible nihilists. Woman’s nature tells her everything can, and should be, remedied, as long as she can inject the right amount of meddlesome and obsessive measures. Females believe nothing is beyond repair and this classically applies to their appraisal of men who god knows are quite often intractable louts and vermin. Women believe things really do matter because they simply…matter. Women are not philosophically inclined to question the substance of meaning other than the superficial solipsistic symbolism they attach to the items in their lives. In this manner, they tend to attribute way too much relevance to themselves, their material environment, and their loved ones. When you devote such a hearty amount of intrinsic value to anything, you tend to obsess over it, and feeling as such that everything is directly manipulable by your actions, you tend to devote way too much of your ego, and thus you take things seriously, and furthermore, become an anxious wreck over garbage you ultimately have no control.

The legacy of the “learned helplessness” that the female has cultivated over millions of years of evolution still lives, still implores. A learned helplessness that stems from being the weaker gender fraught with physical powerlessness. As the new age of equality has dawned, it’s not like women can just turn off this learned helplessness evolutionary mechanism. It still resides deep in their soul even though the full breadth of their modern trappings highlight a person who has every bit of power and equality as the male who reigned over her for ages.

Learned helplessness is not “bad” when you are in fact helpless. But learned helplessness in the hands of someone who is not helpless is rather noxious to the society.

This learned helplessness is what causes women to be hysterical, anxiety-ridden train wrecks, but now, by virtue of their modern power and equality, they can foist their weak pall over society at large and we all pay the price of meddlesome busy-bodied intrusions. This is not something I’m making up. Women are more anxious and fretful than men. There is a reason the word hysterical has etymological roots in female reproductive physiology. Men throughout time have witnessed and noted the outlandish and unrestrained behavior of the female.

Women panic. They freak out. It’s their nature. This is why they sigh often, this is why they roll their eyes and why they are priggish and overly critical and materialistic. This is all because of this reactive outlook that paints their perspective: everything must be fixed if it’s broken and the disreputable notion that life is inherently flawed and people inherently broken is toxic and foreign to the female mind. Everything can be fixed and thus, everything should be worried over while concurrently being deconstructed by an endless diarrhea of expression, meetings, committees and bureaucracy. In fact, the word bureaucracy should really have roots in female physiology as well. Perhaps the word would be something like hysteraucracy.

And a “hysteraucracy” is exactly what the rise of female power in the today’s Western world has rewarded us with. An intrusive, delusional persistence that will slowly dismantle human freedom and wanderlust because every time someone gets hurts, this hysteraucracy convenes any number of committees to address the problem in the most dramatic fashion possible in order to ensure it never happens again.

Because we all know….no one will ever get hurt again, right?