How easy is it to get your oven (or any appliance) fixed these days for a reasonable price?
Yeah: Difficult.

Or should I say, how easy is it to get a simple estimate over the phone before so you can assess how much cash you’ll need?

Almost impossible.

Unless you know about Antique Stove Heaven.

The fun and games started when my oven died. I did a search for LA Oven Repair. I called at least 6 repair places: AAA Appliance Repair, West Coast Chief Repair, AAA Service Repair, Ameripro… the list goes on.

Every single one refused to give me an estimate before coming out. Even a broad, ‘I promise I won’t hold you to it estimate’ was met with a horrified, “absolutely unheard of! No one in Los Angeles will do that!”

Seems talking money is a big no-no when you want to get something fixed these days. Ameripro even hung up on me! I guess I was asking too many questions. When I called back immediately, the same guy who hung up on me affected a ridiculous fake British accent (this really happened) and then put me on hold for 8 minutes til I gave up!!!!

Mind you, I was very cordial and said I just wanted a super general idea of the price for the specific problem. Every single place I called, except Antique Stove Heaven, refused to quote prices over the phone, would not give hourly rates, wouldn’t give the price of the part (I knew what I needed…and had actually looked up the part price online just for info, and was willing to pay retail). The standard answer is, “We charge a flat rate, say a minimum of $165, but could be up to $500 but we can’t give an estimate til we see problem.” Even though I knew what the fix was.

They offer to come and check out the issue for $25-45 which is credited to the repair should you hire them, but you can’t figure out the approximate cost before they come out.

Is it only me, or does this seem crazy? Clearly it works for the repair company but not for the consumer. Once they are there, you are pretty much locked in.
Then I remembered that years ago, I needed a repair on my old O’Keefe and Merritt stove (a dream stove if there ever was one) and Antique Stove Heaven fixed it fantastically! They are a local company, family owned and have restored old stoves for the past 30 years. My current stove was an entirely different animal, newer, but still… broken.
So I called expecting the standard, “we don’t quote prices over the phone” routine. And voila! Completely different experience. Not only did Antique Stove Heaven quote me the exact price it would cost to fix it, but they came right out and got it up and running immediately!
Yay!!!! for a business in LA who will actually give you a straight answer and do what they advertise. And a big relief to have an idea of what something will cost before you dive in!

I’ve never cared much for the term “la-la-land” as it was ‘most always used in a derogatory manner.  How dare you disparage the city I love in that manner.  Well the Oxford Dictionary folks have taken it a step further and given the term credibility without noting in the definition its a “derogatory” noun.  Their exact definition:

la-la land n. can refer either to Los Angeles (in which case its etymology is influenced by the common initialism for that city), or to a state of being out of touch with reality—and sometimes to both simultaneously.

What say you on this addition to the dictionary?  More power to the haters or are you non plussed over the addition?

Pic by me of the L.A. iconic palms in Venice Beach, taken with my beloved “che-ez snap” that shoots in all of .3 megapixels.

Here it is. Your full-service wedding and divorce “chapel.” They’ll even do you’re taxes too! I wonder if you get a discount on your divorce case if you were married there.

*Spotted while on my jury lunch in Downtown.

Ugh.

This evening, when I got excited because I realized my local WalMart is open 24 hours, I remembered how boring it can be to be a night shifter. I recently became a night shifter with my new job. I worked night shift briefly once before, but my girlfriend (now wife) worked days and most of my friends worked days, so I was constantly switching to accommodate to them. Now my wife also works nights, so that’s nice, but what do I do when I’m off and she’s not (which happens all too often)? And what do we do together for that matter? I have never been one to sit around the house. I mean, I have my days of lazy, but usually I love to just be outside.

Do we have any followers out there who work night shift? What do you do? I know I could go to a bar or club until 2am, but I have to be in the mood for that. I know there are some 24 hour diners, but what if I’m not hungry? I’m open to any ideas. It’s times like these where I wish I lived in a city like New York (except for the blizzard part), where there’s ALWAYS something to do.

Help me out fellow Angelenos!
(And if you know of something close to Long Beach, I’ll be extra, super special excited)

My best friend lives in Vancouver BC, but he grew up in San Pedro. Expatriate though he may be, he’s still lived the bulk of his life in California, thus far. And while he’s now, as a Canadian Citizen, largely removed from the noise of California politics, it can still pique his interest when he comes to visit.

Back in July, he was here for Comic Con (something rarely missed) and, of course, Meg Whitman’s ads were running constantly on every available media outlet, short of Big Gulp cups and Happy Meals.

“Who’s this ‘Meg Whitman?’” he asks me.

“Used to run eBay. Dumping a crap ton of her own money into the race. Record amount, in fact.”

“Who’s running against her?”

“Jerry Brown.”

The look of disbelief that crossed his face will haunt my soul.

“Does anyone really need anymore proof that the Democrats are in collusion with the Republicans?”

Mike’s a cynical bastard.

Look, you can take any politician, ANY, and create a laundry list of their lies and deceit; they’re politicians. They are liars. All of them. Your favorite candidate, in whatever race that was? Yep, them. Big, fat liars. Pants ablaze. The Great Statesmen and Orators of History? Fibbers, every last one. So, I will not even to attempt to recount a play by play of campaign inaccuracies and skullduggery here. Putting a politician on the “Naughty” list for lying or running a rough campaign is like blaming a spider for having too many legs. It may creep you out, but that’s just the way the damn thing is built.

So, why bother? Well, I’ll tell yeh, and frankly, I kinda find it funny:

Bitch tried to buy us off.

Seriously. Slice it up any way you wish, it was a blatant attempt to run an unstoppable money-fueled juggernaut of a campaign, which collapsed under its own hubris.

I’m not even going to take up the tract of, “She should have just poured all that money into our failing education system,” or whatever. Would that have been great? Oh, hell yeah! I would love to see a politician actually do that, or similar, on that scale. I ain’t gonna ride her for not deciding to do something so grand.

No, what gets you the coal in your stocking this year, Meg, as far as I’m concerned, is the hubris. The unmitigated gall. You thought you had us, that you could just buy us. That that’s all it would take. We heard it in your voice. Well, take your lump and heat your stove, let that keep you warm, we’re gonna let Jerry do his thing. At least he didn’t try to buy us out.

The part that tickles me, really, is that it did happen here. Like it or not, the stereotype of a typical “Californian” tends to be either the dimwitted surfer or the shallow “Movie Star.” This tends to piss me off, but that’s really how much of the country sees us. And yet, the State known to be all flash and no substance passed on Meg’s Millions. Whatever else Jerry Brown may or may not be, “Flashy” he’s not.

I suppose those who insist upon State drawn stereotypes will shrug us off as “Hippies” now. Funny how such a bunch of Hippies have elected so many Republicans in the past. Whatever, I’ll take Granola over Vapid any day.

I can’t wait to find out what my friend in The Great White North thinks about all of this when I go to visit him over Christmas. Should be interesting.

Across the country people are voicing their concerns for the Advanced Imaging Technology (AIT) scanners recently implemented by the TSA. This is not surprising given the fact that the radiation used in the scanners has about 1 in 30 million chance of giving you cancer – the same odds of you being involved in any terrorist attack, and if you choose to opt-out of that scan, the alternative is basically a violation of your fourth amendment rights. The TSA is facing heavy questions about why they continually under represent the amount of radiation these scanners use, as well as their ability to store the naked images of you that they capture. This is such an issue that the Chairman of Homeland Security has asked the TSA to reconsider the policy, Congressman Mica, soon to be head of the House Transportation and Infrastructure Committee is reminding airports that using the TSA is optional and they can kick them out – and airports in New York and Orlando are already taking steps to do just that.

Very clearly people are upset, and their elected officials are stepping up to address these concerns. Well, in other places they are anyway, here in LA it’s almost like Mayor Villaraigosa is mocking them. In this climate of concern, the mayor is bragging about installing the tech at LAX. Lawsuits are being filed against the DHS, several nationwide protests are being organized (National Opt Out Day, We Won’t Fly, Opt Out on Twitter), people are collecting horror stories online and there is question if the scanners would have even detected the underwear bomber that apparently set this all into motion (Dear TSA, thanks for always being one step behind) - And here’s our Mayor clearly siding against all reason. This single act pretty much determined how I’ll vote at the next mayoral elections.

I’m not sure if I saw “Blade Runner” first or went to LA Eyeworks first, but both left a profound impression on me.

My flesh crawling crowd loathing keeps me from witnessing what I’m certain can only be a Lucy-Show-esque spectacle (OUCH!) once or twice a year when they put Last Year’s Models on sale and let their mailing list have at them like a pack of ravenous wolves. Me, I prefer to shop in a much more civilized manner.

The price of such civilization? About $600 a pair, out the door with a progressive prescription installed and some ridiculous glasses case (one had a merkin, and another I continue to call “Elton John’s Coffin”).

Maybe you’re lucky and don’t need a prescription, so you get pretend glasses or sunglasses for just a few bucks over the frame price (which is still well over $300 most of the time). Worth every penny, says I, since I’m not the kind of person who loses or sits on glasses.

(Well there was that one time, and the LAE gods were smiling that day, because two years later They Had One Last Pair of the ones I lost – the red and pink sunglasses here.)

And although Mark Twain never shopped there, I’m sure he’d agree that any other optician vs. LAE might also be the difference between lightning and lightning bugs.

I’m a huge fan of their whole zipper tooth theme, and love the black sunglasses because they remind me of the top of Nancy’s head – not that anyone remembers Nancy any more, but still. And I do, dammit.

Will the stores still be standing when replicants come for their parents? Not sure. I’m loyal to the Beverly store, and I think Roy Batty shops on Melrose anyway.

All I know is I’m glad they’re here now.

As promised I am posting my lament about the horror that is dating in Los Angeles. Let me first say for years I defended L.A. in this regard. Having dated in Washington, D.C. and Madison, Wisconsin, I felt like I had enough boots-on-the-ground experience to say with some limited authority: no, it’s not L.A. per se that sucks so much as dating in general. It’s like a job interview except you have to eat dinner and feel bad that your tits aren’t big enough. Sadly my job history is about a thousand times more impressive than my dating history (unless you’re using impressive in a general but not necessarily positive sense). Regardless, I’ve always defended this town as not necessarily any better or worse than anywhere else for dating, but lately I have had a string of dates that make me reconsider. Maybe what they say is true and this town is particularly difficult.

Experiences I have had on dates over the past few months include, but are not limited to: someone showing up 40 minutes late for dinner on a first (and last) date, someone asking me out and then telling me he doesn’t date because he needs to be friends with someone for years before getting romantically involved, someone canceling a second date because during the one-short-week since the first date he launched into a serious relationship with someone else, and the pièce de résistance, someone who went awol mid-date. This last deserves special mention as the worst date I have ever been on, which is, I might add, a hard contest to win. He excused himself twice to go to the men’s room and when he got up a third time, purportedly to fetch a credit card from the front counter where he accidentally left it, he never came back. My theory: he was actually married and his wife or one of her friends was at the cafe at the time; an alternative theory: he was doing bumps in the bathroom; or perhaps both of these things were true. In any case, even if you suddenly determine that you are totally and completely not into someone, it’s not that hard to say to her that your stomach got upset or you forgot you left the oven on or the neighbor called and your condo is on fire or something. You don’t just leave the table never to return. This behavior is odd in the extreme.

The above list represents a sampling of the dates I’ve been on relatively recently. Not all have been that reprehensible and there are several I don’t mention simply because discretion is the better part of good manners. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, Travis must look like a gorgon or have bad breath or be boorish or laugh like Elmer Fudd sitting on a juicer. Really though, my fellow b.la-ers can vouch for me when I say I am awesome-ish. Sure I have my issues–don’t we all–but come on, I’m a size 4 and I have a Ph.D. that should count for something.

And lest I come off like I’m trying to bust someone’s chops, I want to clarify that most of the guys I have been out with lately have been reasonably nice guys (except for the douchebag who left mid-meal–if you are out there db I hope your wife finds out you’re cheating on her). Some have been really cool, and I’ve become friends with a few of them. This town is filled with interesting great people, I’m really clear about that. But really dating here is frightful. I concede.

When the history of bad ad campaigns is written, this billboard may have a chapter all to itself, or at least a subsection of a chapter. Seriously, it feels almost too easy to critique this as an example of an awful piece of advertising. I mean, really guys? Really?

This billboard sprang up just a few blocks from my house since I started this bad ad campaign mini-series of posts here at b.la and it almost feels like a plant. Every time I pass it I giggle to myself about hard wood floors. I am, I admit, lodged firmly in arrested adolescence. Retarded in the true sense of the word. Even so, it feels almost unsporting to pick on this billboard–like the jock beating up the fat kid on the playground: it’s just too easy. But of course, here I am.

Other posts in this series:
To A New World of Gods and Monsters
It’s a Thin Line Between “Awesome” and “Awful”
Graffitists, I Invite Thee
Some Things Shouldn’t Go Viral

I hate invoking the R-word. And I certainly hate directing that word at people. So before anyone gets on my case for calling someone a racist, let me just say that I think there is a difference between someone actually being a racist and someone doing/saying racist things (though some may ask “What’s the difference?” — a topic for another post!).

But after reading an article (Hearing is not believing, 8/26/2010) in the Pasadena Weekly written by Jim Laris, its former publisher and owner– who evidently has a regular column called Cigar Smoke published in the Pasadena Weekly every other Thursday — I don’t know if there is another word other than “racist” to describe his article, except maybe “unfunny.” The article seems to be trying to telling an “amusing” story about how the sound from his TV/cable box seemed to be coming out in Chinese, but it has drawn the ire of the Asian American Journalists Association (AAJA), who issued a Letter to “Pasadena Weekly” for Racist Remarks.

Again, I just want to make clear I’m not calling Mr. Laris a racist. But I wonder if he had any consideration how the following excerpts might sound to Chinese-speaking (not all of whom are from China or “commies,” by the way) or South Asian people: [emphasis is mine]

• …we started to hear the Chinese guy Kung Powing in Chinese.
• It made me exclaim to Marge [his wife], “Holy communist plot, what is happening?”
• Nat King Cole singing “Oh Holy Night” in commie would have killed me.
• Should I call Charter? Well, I would probably get some Indian techie guy and when I told him I was hearing Chinese coming out of my TV and then it switched to Nat King Cole, he would hold his hand over the speaker of the phone, and turn to his buddy in Bombay and laugh his tandoori-ass laugh and regain his composure and ask me, “Sir, vat is a Nat King Cole?”

Ok, so I get that he’s trying to be funny. He makes reference to his wife calling him “Couch Potato Face” and to imaginary conversations with the late Richard Feynman. But as a former publisher and owner of a publication based in the San Gabriel Valley– one of the largest concentrations of Chinese American populations in the nation– is it really a good idea for him to say things like “kung powing in Chinese” or refer to the language as “commie?” And exactly WHAT is a “tandoori-ass laugh?” Who is trying to be– Joel Stein?

What do you think?

I love Trader Joe’s for their prices, for their Joe-Joe’s, for their simmering sauces.  But, all the mushy love I have for Trader Joe’s is nearly outweighed by how much I hate it for having absolutely awful parking lots.  If you don’t live near one of their new and improved stores – i.e., the ones at Hollywood and Vine or Olympic and Barrington – then you’re stuck with an archaic lot that is a one-way traffic jam from hell.  This is my list of the 5 Worst Trader Joe’s Parking Lots in LA.

5.  Huntington and Rosemead

The Trader Joe’s on Huntington and Rosemead in the good ol’ San Gabriel Valley shares space with a Petco next door.  Often, when Trader Joe’s plays nice and shares its parking lot space with others, the lot actually is not half bad (see, e.g., the parking lot at Santa Monica Blvd. and Martel in WeHo).  Not so here.  As you can see, the parking lot employs the Loop method.  There are two entrances; whether you go with the Blues or the Reds, you’re going to be stuck in a one-way jam somewhere.

4.  Santa Monica

Like its brother across town, the Trader Joe’s in Santa Monica also utilizes the Loop method, and also fails spectacularly.  There are two entrances: one on Pico, and the other at 33nd (the other end of the loop).  Cars inevitably converge, and it’s a bloody fight on who gets to continue through the Loop.  Smarter drivers forgo the Loop entirely and opt for one of the spots in front of the entrance, or look for a spot behind the store – but good luck getting there.  Those entering on Pico theoretically have a Stop sign to obey, but who listens to red octagons in a parking lot?  No one, apparently.

3.  Silver Lake

I think of this lot as one where Trader God threw up all the available parking spots into the air and let them fall, along with Traitor Satan, into the pits of Hell.  The result: spots scattered awkwardly in a half-Loop around the perimeter of the store.  Cars entering or exiting the lot from either entrance on Hyperion sidle uneasily alongside each other, angling for a spot.   I’ll let you in on a secret though: if you drive on Hyperion, past this insanity, past the Cheese Store, there is an overflow lot.  Park there and save yourself an enormous hassle.

2.  La Brea & 3rd

What is worse than a tiny parking  lot designed for a large volume of suburban shoppers jonesing for some two buck  Chuck?  A tiny parking lot designed for a large volume of shoppers jonesing for  some two buck Chuck located right off of one of the busiest  intersections of the city.  For some reason, Trader Joe’s thought this little plot of land was capable of handling not one, but two, ill-fated Loops.  If  you look carefully at the pic below, you can make out the  arrows painted in the lot, which, I guess, are supposed to tell you  where to go.  In practice, the arrows make no sense:  they don’t  guide you to safety any more than the footsteps do at Ikea.

1.  Arroyo Parkway
This is the OG TJ’s, circa 1967.  The template of its future stores, including, apparently, its horrible parking.  The lot is a labyrinth and the parking slots are tiny beyond tiny  (as my friend pointed out, “only a clown car” could squeeze in the spots).  Overall, the lot is ill-equipped to handle the density of traffic and the vanity of Los Angeles (gigantormous Lexus SUVs hogging 2+ spaces, I am looking at you).  Yes, I would like to know how Trader Joe’s came up with the Loop and Other Urban Parking Lot Nightmares, but what I really want to know is: How did the people in the yellow box get in and out of their cars?

That’s my list.  What’d I miss?

Every time I drive home from Hollywood through Laurel Canyon, I pass this billboard on Ventura Boulevard that proclaims “AWESOMETOWN: New homes from $200,000.” with pictures of happy running children, a tract home, and a sterile building. And every time I think “Really? Are you serious?” I mean, I understand that “ALL YOU CAN AFFORDTOWN” isn’t a great ad campaign, but AWESOMETOWN?  Forgive me Valencians, but you can’t actually believe this about where you live. What I wonder is this: have the ad people have ever actually been to Valencia? And further: do they believe that Valencia is “awesome” or are they attempting to perpetrate a fraud on the rest of us?

I’ll grant Valencia is home to Cal Arts and Magic Mountain, but apart from those two draws, relative to oh, just about anywhere else in LA County, I’d hardly characterize it as “awesome,” I mean, unless white people, malls, and a town frighteningly evocative of the Truman Show is “awesome” in your book. I’ve always felt like one of the joys of Los Angeles is its messy unplanned nature. The freeway system, viewed from above, looks like a tangle of string or pasta. In any given strip mall you can buy pinatas, shop for Armenian groceries, get a pedicure and have a doughnut, and never have to utter a word of English. LA is random, untidy, and by turns charming and ridiculous. Valencia, on the other hand, is sanitized and sterile. It always makes me feel like I’m in biosphere or Logan’s Run. If I’m there for any period of time, I have to double check my palm to make sure that I don’t have a stone turning black set in the middle of it. I know “I CAN’T WAIT TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERETOWN” doesn’t scan very well, but who are you trying to sell houses to by billing yourself this way, Valencia? Twelve year-olds?

Did anyone else notice this full-page gem in the LA Weekly this week? I look at this and I think “Goddess“? “Fitness”? Wrong. Wrong.

This is noxious on so many levels it’s hard to know where to begin, but let’s say this much at least–maybe this is “the most fun you will ever have in fitness” because make-overs, weight loss, champagne, parties, boutiques, performances, and so on, have, in fact, nothing at all to do with fitness.

But maybe I am being too dismissive. Clearly, more thought went into the development of classes and fitness programs than you might think on first glance. Emma Ridley, the owner of this fitness emporium cogently explains: “At Goddess Fitness there is no right or wrong way to move, it is just movement.” I don’t know about you, but I feel fitter already. I’m even moving while I’m typing this post right now.

Not only can you learn to pole dance and have a make-over here, you can get a dye job and a Brazilian as well because what’s a goddess without a decent pelvic thrust and a body smooth as a balloon? I know I’m ridiculously retro, nay, even prehistoric, to question the empowering nature of stripper heels and hairless twats–I admit, my feminism got beached before the third wave–but can we at least agree that these things are not “fitness”? For god’s sake LA, get a grip. This is not an easy town to be a woman in. Truly.

And then there’s the video. Do you suppose there’s some kind of platinum membership level that gives you the boobs too?

So, it’s been a week Metro fares went up from $1.25 to $1.50.  Now, I’m not opposed to this increase per se – time passes, seasons change, bus fares go up, thus is the way of the world.  However!  as a very regular bus rider (Line 2 from West Hollywood to UCLA, represent!), I have a few ideas about what Metro should be doing my with my 25 cents per ride, suggestions that, if implemented, would make the buses of Los Angeles much happier places to be.

So, dear Metro Transit Authority, here are three humble suggestions for things you can do with my extra 25 cents a ride:

1.  Please offer transfers from one MTA route to another.  It is absolutely ridiculous that riders have to pay the full fare additional times if their route requires switching busses and/or trains.  This is a major city, right?  I can’t think of any other major cities in which transfers from one bus to another, on the same bus system, are nothing more than a heady fantasy.

2.  Some better bus stop infrastructure would be nice.  I don’t know if this is the purview of the MTA or if it’s a municipal responsibility, but I have had to wait for busses at some amazingly skeevy bus stops.  To wit:  One might assume that the corner of Santa Monica and Wilshire, an intersection of two fairly major thoroughfares, could be a fairly major transit hub.  However, waiting for the Eastbound bus on Santa Monica means waiting at a bus stop where the bench might as well be a board balancing on some cinderblocks.  And there’s no shade. And the stop backs onto an empty lot.  As street corners go, it is probably among the least conducive to encouraging people to wait around for a bus.  And it’s not the only stop like that.  We need more bus shelters, or, heck, even some trees for shade, and there also needs to be some work put into making bus stops safer at night.  Having waited for busses in the wee hours even though my mother always told me that I should just take a cab, I have often found myself wishing for some kind of lighting so that I don’t feel like I’m liable to get jumped at any minute.

3.  And, my most important suggestion:  Now that you’ve got an extra quarter from every rider, you don’t need the income from Transit TV anymore, right?  Right?  Please, please, get rid of Transit TV, oh please, god.  This is absolutely key to the maintenance of my sanity.  Supposedly, 84% of people prefer being on a bus with these televisions on them, which leads me to conclude that they surveyed people who have never ridden a bus in Los Angeles.  When I get on a bus and those horrible televisions are on, I want to stick pins in my eyes.  TVs on buses are not an inherently bad idea.  However, whoever is behind the current programming on bus TV should be fired and not allowed to work in any media-related field, ever.  The Transit TV lineup includes news headlines, read in a monotone, by pasty zombie people; triva questions and brain teasers that seem to be compiled by someone with a less than secure grasp on the workings of the English language (my favorite example, from a few months ago was the following trivia question:  “Yogurt is a member of which food group?”  Answer?  “Milk.”  Which is not really wrong, I guess, but it’s not quite right either); horrible, often offensive jokes; and stupid commercials advertising inane things like mail-order college educations, or, advertising the ad space on Transit TV.  Like, honestly?  Do they really think the people who are riding the bus are the people who are going to buy ad space on the bus?  Do they think we are not agonizingly aware of the presence of ad space on the bus?  Oh, and the volume of the sets can’t be controlled by the drivers, and they’re loud and obnoxious, and all of this programming is presented in the most irritatingly patronizing tone possible.  “It’s like they think everyone on the bus is an idiot,” I said to my roommate one day.  “Or maybe,” he replied, “the people who make Transit TV are idiots.”  Truer words were never spoken.

So, dear Metro Transit Authority, these are the humble propositions I put forward to you, in all your infinite wisdom.  My alternate suggestion would be that you use your newfound revenue to buy me a car, but that somehow seems less within the realms of possibility.

Yours,

Alexandra

(Photo courtesy of LA Wad, via the blogging.LA flickr pool)

So you know that boycott of Arizona that the City Council pushed through to express the outrage over the Arizona’s new immigration law? A lot of people have suggested it’s just a meaningless move, like banning nail clippers on airplanes, that doesn’t really change anything but lets a lot of people pat themselves on the back for doing the right thing. But it seems as quick as they were to pass it, they are just as happy to write in exceptions to it. Like the redlight cameras all over the city, turns out those are operated by Scottsdale-based American Traffic Solutions, Scottsdale being firmly a part of Arizona. And you know, since those are a big source of revenue for the city and prevent accidents at red lights, in the interest of the people, the City Council has gone ahead and excepted them from the boycott. Except they don’t do either of those things. They aren’t making the city any money and if anything they are causing more accidents. And what is worse, the City Council knows this.

The LAPD’s statistics show that about half of the 32 photo-enforced intersections have either had no change in accidents or an increase, said Councilwoman Janice Hahn.

“That’s not a very good record,” she said. And some of the city’s worst intersections for traffic safety don’t have cameras, she said.

She and Councilman Paul Koretz also pointed to a report from the city’s top budget advisor that says Los Angeles’ revenue from tickets falls about $300,000 short of covering payments to ATS and the LAPD’s costs to run the program.

Doing a heck of a job there City Council. Heck of a job.

Wait, WTF are you doing again exactly??
[part of the above photo taken by flickr user jkarsh and used under creative commons]