Three chicks thwart a date rape, wallow in smug heroism, and the poor Asian dude pays the price.


Something of a local sensation here this weekend when news broke that three women enjoying happy hour drinks last Thursday at The Fig restaurant in Santa Monica thwarted an apparent date rape when they spotted a man slip a substance from a vial into his date’s drink while she had left to use the restroom.


Our magnificent heroines jumped to action.


The trio, Sonia Ulrich, Marla Saltzer and Monica Kenyon, have been basking in adulation since the story broke. Accolades have been pouring in and the local hipster-lib press is wetting its panties in a collective tidal wave of appreciation for the women’s actions.


The putative leader of the super-heroines and protectors of feminine honor, Sonia Ulrich, recounted the entire incident on her Facebook page last Friday.


Monica, Marla, and I were at Fig at the Fairmont for their delicious happy hour (“Fig at 5.” Treat yourself). I was going on about something and saw Monica staring behind and making a funny face. I stopped. “What’s going on?” After a few second she said “That guy just put something in her drink.”
They had a bottle of wine they were splitting. It seemed like a first or second or third date. After a few “Oh god. What do we do”s, I got up to find her in the bathroom to tell her. Warn her. Tell her to get up and leave this creep. Make him drink it. Something.
So, after feeling awkward hanging out by the sinks in the bathroom til she was done, I approached. “Hey! Um, this is kind of weird, but, uh, we saw the guy you were with put something in your drink.”
“Oh My God.” She said. Shocked, kind of numb, so I babbled “Yeah, my girlfriend said she saw him put something in your drink and we had to say something. Woman to woman…you know. We had to say something. How well do you know that guy?” I was expecting to hear “We just met,” but I got:
“He’s one of my best friends.”
When I got back, Marla was talking to the server about what happened. Seeing if he or the manager could do anything. Monica filled us in on more of what she saw.
“He pulled her glass toward him, kind of awkwardly, then he took out a little black vial. He opened it up and dropped something in. Then he tried to play it cool, like checking his phone and hiding the vial in his hand and then trying to bring it back down slyly.” He apparently saw Monica looking. Marla said she was just going to lean over to Monica and say “that guy is acting really creepy” when she saw Monica already looking. Witnessing.
The poor woman had to sit through 40 more minutes, sitting across from “one of her best friends” knowing that he was trying to drug her. Marla noticed him several times chinking his glass to hers to get her to drink. She played it cool. Mostly, I believed, just stunned. The staff wanted to jump in and dump the glass, dump him, do something! I was going through fantasies of walking up and demanding he drink the tainted glass of wine. Eventually, they finished up dinner. There was a delay getting their bill “The computer is down” is what the waiter kept saying to him. Then, in walks Santa Monica PD. They say “Come with us” and he doesn’t protest.
But it wasn’t over.
From every table In our section, from through out the restaurant, people came by to thank us for taking action.
“It happened to my sister…I’m glad I was there to take her home.”
“It happened to my roommate at a producer’s party. He’s still messed up from it.”
“It happened to me. At a backyard barbecue.”
“It happened to me. At a bar I worked at.”
“Some Heroes don’t wear capes. Thank you. It happened to me. Thank you.”
“Fuck yeah you guys! You fuckin rock!”




And so it goes.


Good for them and I’m impressed by their vigilance. Resorting to drugs and roofies in order to get laid is a pretty low form of desperation on the part of any man. I can’t understand how such actions can possibly be defended. There is absolutely no sense of accomplishment in having sex with a girl by virtue of such shenanigans. Such practices only display your utter emasculation and wimpiness; there is nothing “Alpha” or “PUA-worthy” about “date drugging.” You have failed completely to display manhood in a flattering manner by being sniveling and sneaky this way.


But these chicks are starting to get a bit self-involved and very corny. There should be honor in great actions of virtuosity and thoughtfulness, but the three women seem to have no problem lapsing into a pronounced, annoying state of attention whoredom, including this pathetic and embarrassing Charlie’s Angels knock-off pose (as if the meme itself isn’t cringe-worthy enough).



charlies angels



And today the suspected druggist appeared in court and was identified. Turns out da Asian man did it.


Michael Hsu
Michael Hsu



A 24-year-old man who allegedly tried to slip a drug into a woman’s drink before he was thwarted by three Good Samaritans appeared in a Los Angeles court today after he was charged with two felonies, authorities said.
Michael Roe Chien Hsu was arraigned on charges of felony administering a drug and felony assault with intent to commit a sex crime, according to Los Angeles County Deputy District Attorney Oksana Sigal.
Hsu pleaded not guilty to the charges and was issued a protective order against the alleged victim by the judge. He must also turn over his passport within 48 hours and was required to turn in his pilot license.



A pilot’s license?  That should be a great PUA prop to flash wantonly in the pursuit of pussy, and a man of substance, a man with balls, should be able to finagle such an accomplishment into bedding lots of women, no question. I suspect Hsu might have suffered from Asian Beta male complex and thus rationalized such desperate acts as a veritable PU tool of the trade, never mind that such trickery only serves to get you locked up and makes you look really desperate.



Stranger in an unlikely land.




In 1984, the first Presidential election in which I was able to vote, I was a registered voter in the “Decline To State” category but I leaned a bit to the right. Very right. Not sure of my reasoning why I chose to not register as a Republican but perhaps in my immaturity I was seeking to portray an independent cowboy streak of ideological self-sufficiency that I thought mattered then. Most of my friends were registered Republicans and I tagged along with them during the 1984 Presidential season and did all the things dutiful Republican first-time voters did. We affixed the Reagan-Bush’84 bumper stickers with pride and we canvased our local neighborhood east of Los Angeles with pamphlets and voter guides. Even in 1984, the neighborhood was strongly Hispanic (ie, Democratic) so our address list of registered Republicans was sparse. We only concentrated on Republican voters, ie, households (in this neighborhood) and I remember being struck by how few Republicans there were and considered the mechanics which would drive a person to choose to affiliate with a politician and ideological symbol who was the antithetical villain for most others of the immediate social group this person belonged to (without realizing that I, too, due to my Republican activism, was a part of). For it takes a bit of an ego to turn your back on the trends and expectations that you are assumed to exert for the sake of ideological principle.


Wow, I thought.


These people (especially the neighborhood Hispanics who were registered as Republicans) really must believe in their cause and they must be special to expose themselves to the wrath of the ethnic peers whom they are odds with. And the collective mass in Hispanic communities can be formidable; my car was subject to one distinctive act of vandalism when I parked it (stupidly) with open windows in an East Los Angeles Community College parking lot. I’ve always been of the opinion that political conformity tends to dictate most of the mentality that steers Mexican-Americans toward Democratic Party affiliation. Refuting the group-think requires a strong sense of independence and autonomy and boldness; I was vaguely fascinated by the sporadic Republican Hispanic households that drew our attention that early evening in 1984.


The Republican Mexican-American element has always been a shrinking violet in American politics, holding steady, never encouragingly large or dismissively insignificant. The 2016 election season, courtesy of Donald Trump, has seen that dynamic overturned. Donald Trump, putative Mexican-hater, has estranged a great swath of the Mexican-American electorate into the opposing corner; justified, or not, it doesn’t matter.  The perception for most Mexicans is that Donald Trump does not like them, and in extreme cases of dislike, there is a deep-seated distrust that a resultant Trump Presidency might lead to situations in which Mexicans face a concerted effort aimed at their legislated disenfranchisement.


I don’t believe any of this is the case and my motives for supporting Donald Trump are entirely systemic, and based on the hopeful upheaval of the current globalist economic system that has begun to swallow Europe while simultaneously lifting its upturned jaws in the direction of the United States.


Donald Trump is our best chance to refute the one-world Hive-mind, if even for a generation or two.  That’s right; I believe Donald Trump will only buy time, not unqualified relief. The world, the human race, is spinning on an irrefutable axis that will eventually bring the world under one umbrella of intermingled and clashing humanity, an unbearable cacophony of colors and values and traditions, an amorphous blend of misery and disorder.


So what if Donald Trump hates Mexicans?  It’s time for us to look at the “big picture” and consider the fate of our generational legacy instead of fixating on the trite, insignificant ramblings of an American politician who has decided our collective ethnic group does not warrant his respect.   We are fighting for our nation and our world.  I am not a Mexican-American supporter of Donald Trump.  I am a supporter of that which maintains the values and traditions of an antiquity that kept our world intact.  Even if it’s only for another 50 years.


It’s apparent the internet has afforded us little…


Sometimes I’m struck by how little the internet has afforded us other than the ability to dwell obsessively and compulsively in collective yammerfests over shit that’s been done, and furthermore, cannot be changed.


IOW, the internet has become a grand tool that allows us to flaunt our opinions for the sake of opining, and ultimately the opportunity to demonstrate just how tiresome people can be.


king kong

Bernie can have his enchilada and eat it too; Donald, however, would have been swatted.


What I would like to ask all those toy Pancho Villa revolutionaries who shadow Donald Trump’s national appearances with their Mexican flags and belligerent exclamations of ignorance and overturned cars is why they only focus their dramatic wrath on Trump when their own guy, and broader political “representatives,” persistently disregard the “Hispanic agenda” and flaunt trite stereotypes and generalizations (usually of the culinary type)?


Chuck Todd from NBC’s MTP elicited a (what I believe can be construed as a racial trigger) from Bernie Sanders on the show earlier (at the 3:39pm time stamp). When he asked how Sanders would feel about his chances if he doesn’t win California in the mammoth state’s June 7 primary, the candidate was at first evasive, and when Todd pursued this line of questioning, Sanders finally relented:


“Hey, look, Chuck, California is the big enchilada, so to speak. Obviously it is enormously important, and obviously we want to win it. But … I think by the end of the process, we may win half of the states. So we’re going to fight till the last vote is cast and try to appeal to the last delegate that we can.”


I, for one, as a Mexican-American, am offended by this!


Everyone knows California is full of Mexicans. We own (emotionally) this state and Sanders’ choice of semantics is marginal, at best.


If Donald Trump had uttered such words, the ethnically-offended condemnations would have begun immediately. Reccist! would have been the uproar from certain quarters.


But Bernie said it and the silence is deafening. Bernie is allowed to have his enchilada and eat it, too.



James Bond: the next racially-engineered Hollywood character?


The standard cinematic straight-White-male formula of most Hollywood cinematic ventures appears to have been slowly overturned, disemboweled, recently.  The rush to populate casts has happened midstream with many commercial film franchises pulling the bait and switch as they reflexively, smugly populate new revamped castings with people of “color” or “female leads proving women can kick ass.”


The resultant hoopla has only cemented the bearers of script-mutated diversity’s evolution, and the media, along with a culture that demands diversity for the unrealistic sake of diversity, celebrates such artificial manipulation of traditionally accepted cast motifs Hollywood has deployed for ages.  It seems there’s an innate mission to revamp all pop culture into a fantastical demonstration that straight White men must be marginalized, excluded from the playground merely because it will sate the movie-going public’s unaddressed desire to see  films with casts reflecting the diversity to be seen only on other manually augmented wide screens, courtesy of Hollywood.  Self-perpetuated insanity and delusion.  It is plot-laced social, racial and gender engineering of the most transparent sort, a mockery of logic hoisted on us by Hollywood Libs.


And now it appears the next James Bond character to replace the outgoing Daniel Craig officeholder might very well constitute an unwelcome, change-for-the-sake-of-change-driven candidate.



Sam Mendes, the present designate at the directorial helm of the Jame Bond series, has announced he is relinquishing his 007 role, and in the process made some nebulous comments about the future of the direction the Bond casting might take.
The actor chosen to play the next James Bond will be an unexpected candidate, the franchise’s outgoing director has said, suggesting favourite Tom Hiddleston may not land the 007 role.
Mendes said the director and lead role were likely to be unexpected. “I can guarantee whatever happens with it, it will not be what you expect. That’s what she [producer Barbara Broccoli] has been brilliant at, and that’s how it’ll survive.”


And according to The Guardian, the short-list includes, “Tom Hiddleston, Aidan Turner, Idris Elba, Damian Lewis and…Jamie Bell…”


The fact that Idris Elba has even been floated in this context hints at the demographic evolution the new Bond may undergo.