In LA we can make a religion out of anything. This is why people in other, more sensible parts of the world mock us (well that and the pot vending machines).

Let’s take Scientology: Never mind the creepy greed and cultlike actions of the LRon-ites, these people believe aliens live in their elbows and we are all descended from giant clams. Sadly, while one might expect that someone claiming that their head cold is a byproduct of body-colonization by space aliens might be directed toward some sort of psychotherapy or at the very least antipsychotic medication, in this town they are given lead roles in blockbusters and rockstar parking spaces.

In the other corner, we have Pinkberry, perhaps even greater evidence that Angelenos can turn anything into a creed. Scientology promises enlightenment, even perfection, Pinkberry on the other hand promises frozen yogurt. Five dollah frozen yogurt. Frozen yogurt that people speak with a reverence and fervor usually reserved for gurus and soccer matches. And like a holy spot where the Virgin Mary was sighted, Pinkberry pilgrimages clot the neighborhood. Hellishly snarled traffic and sidewalks clogged with crowds of cell-yapping Britneys whose every too-loud sentence ends in a rising intonation.

It’s a hard call folks. All I know is if PT Barnum were alive today, he’d be living in LA.

 Loading ...

Poll closes Friday at 7pm.