The filmIt’s A Mad, Mad, Mad World was probably the last big budget screwball comedy featuring the best of the best comedians from the era. Flash forward 50 years later and some things have changed, others haven’t but George Ann Muller and Peter Scarbo hunted down the locations and reshot them today for scene by scene comparisons. Its not all L.A but it sure is a lot of SoCal much of which we call our playground now.
I’m not quite sure where to start with this. Background maybe? Noah Green is/was a candidate for City
Attorney council for Sierra Madre. So far so good. Sierra Madre is a quiet, staid little bedroom community. Here he went astray. He referred to the locals as “townies” which ruffled a few feathers. Then they saw his facebook page. Sierra Madre Tattler was on the story.
Before long this story exploded and likely cost Noah his shot at winning the election. 3 images surfaced and appeared on the Sierra Madre Tattler, before long his selfies, as childish and sophomoric as they were, became big news. Big enough that the Tattler opines it cost him the election. (Complete story and pictures here, mildly NSFW)
My question to you, with the exception of the nudie in the hammock, should this poor exercise in judegement be enough to cost him the election? Or would it have been funnier if he got his dangly bits caught in the open loops of the hammock?
There is no sound so don’t fret. Just enjoy the scenery. Los Angeles in the 1940’s in and around Bunker Hill.
I’ve mulled over the news from earlier this week of the Silver Lake Neighborhood Council declaring the community it serves as NOT a part of The Eastside.
I’d’ve thought I’d be all HELLYEAH! right outta the gate, given my past protestations (that’ve mellowed somewhat in my old age) against those over-insulated 135,938 natives and the 1.6-million transplants who live in the Westside and drink deeply of the koolaid that leaves them to believe with varying degrees of commitment that their vastly superior end of the city begins and ends on the ocean-side of…uh, you name it: Speedway Alley, Lincoln, Bundy, the 405, La Cienega, or La Brea, making the other end THEIR eastside for the simple reason that all that riff raff resides east of them. How proprietary.
But instead I surprised myself at being sort of meh at the strictly symbolic and mostly meaningless action. There certainly was a part of me that was satisfied and tried to rah rah at the decision — especially when I read subsequent news stories that took the idiotic angle that Silver Lake had voted to “secede.” As if it had gone all South Carolina on some sort of Greater Eastside union. How con-veeeeeen-ient!
But ultimately it was just a big shoulder shrug. Because I’ve figured out that it’s a waste of time. We live in a city that has built itself by marginalizing its past, so how can I expect so many of its citizens not do the same? In a city that itself has a history of discarding its history as it sprawled so ever nebulously outward from its core, convincing those residents adamantly ignorant of our city’s socio-geographic foundations to look at a different perspective is about as easy as convincing those entitled aggressive motorists they don’t have a right to run me and my bike off the road.
Ultimately what’s important to me now is not changing anyone’s mind but knowing what I know and respecting what so many others couldn’t care less about: that I reside (somewhere in that orange dot I added to that pictured map fragment above) on the land that ultimately became known as Silver Lake which stands in the northWEST corner of the boundaries of the original 16 Spanish Leagues centered upon the plaza where in 1781 — when the main thing going on in the Westside was waves crashing — was established El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles de Porciúncula and incorporated as the City of Los Angeles in 1850.
To me, that’s as easy as 2, 1, 3.