Archives

All posts for the month August, 2015

The section of the west side of Los Angeles that runs from the 405 to Bundy along Santa Monica Blvd is a coveted neighborhood jammed with apartment farms. Most of the modest fourplex and sixplex apartments are owned by Japanese families who survived being put into internment camps and were lucky to retain their property while others had it stolen by their duplicitous round-eye neighbors. The newer buildings are monoliths controlled by faceless property managers (spiritual descendents of the same thieving round-eyes) who raise the rent monthly, which is why a one bedroom apartment in one of these call-box monstrosities goes for almost two thousand dollars a month. The people who are lucky enough to get a unit in one of the Japanese owned buildings can still afford to pay $10 for brown rice and vegetables, or $8 for macaroni and cheese (oh, sorry, with manchego and gruyere). That is to say, this is comfort food dressed up and jacked up for the neighborhood. My $10 cheeseburger was very good, but serving it on focaccia just smacks of pretension. I don’t need focaccia. That shit is square and a burger is round. Even Wendy’s knows that. You want to earn the $10? Make a square fucking burger or learn to use a glass cup to cut bread.

11628 Santa Monica Blvd #9, westside, Los Angeles

There’s a joke that UCLA stands for University of Caucasians Lost among Asians. Noodle Planet exists to answer the racist assumption that white people can’t tell those Asians apart. Serving Thai, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Chinese, and some Japanese noodle dishes and entrees, Noodle Planet is really good for being so young and hip. I’ve become addicted to their giant bowl of Tom Yum Ka, a spicy coconut milk and lemon grass soup with chicken (or seafood) and a chunk of rice noodles at the bottom. Their glass noodles and other Thai entrees also kick butt. Also, you can get tofu to replace any meat! Unfortunately, cash only, kids. Two people can get very full on twenty bucks.

1118 Westwood Blvd, Westwood Village

Jews were screwed when fast food came along and threw cheese on top of everything. Not only is processed burger and chicken meat wholly unkosher, it’s also modified the country’s palette to accept the washed out flavor of the meat as being the norm. Nathan’s is a kosher fast food joint that prepares tasty food to feed your crappetite prepared under Rabbinical supervision. Just like the rest of the fast food universe no language skills are required to order – big pictures above the cash registers of corn dogs, chicken burgers, and hamburgers are there to assist your ordering. Sullen Hassidic teens (or slave labor from the Chabad mines) work the till. Even a corner sink in the back to lave before you knosh. Besides owning the goy Kenny Rodger’s Roasters chain, Nathan’s also owns my favorite fast food restaurant from when I was a wee bairn in suburban Baltimore: Arthur Treacher’s Fish & Chips! It appears that Arthur Treacher’s exists only as a brand; no more of his fish shops grace the earth.

9216 W Pico Blvd

Nate N’ Al’s has been a Beverly Hills fixture for generations of loitering Jews. They make their own pastrami, pickle their own tongue, and the prices are shockingly sane given the stratospheric rates of shitholes like Jerry’s. While the best pastrami award goes to Langers, Nate N’ Al’s still make a great sandwich. Their chicken soup is incredibly hearty and satisfying, more so than Canter’s. It annoys me that their dessert selection is meager; I need poppy seed strudel after a Ruben more than floss. Dinner for two will run you about $25.

(310) 274-0101, 414 N Beverly Drive, Beverly Hills

Nate Loyal is a professional bike fitter. If you ride professionally, recreationally, or for any serious length of time you should have your bike fit to you. Most importantly it prevents injury, but it can also increase performance, correct your form, and overall improve your ride. Nate is outstanding. A session with him takes about an hour to an hour and a half to get fully dialed-in. He works out of Helen’s Cycles in Santa Monica, but does not work for them. That means if you need to add parts to your ride you can go downstairs and get hooked up without having to run out to another bike shop. Helen’s is a great shop, by the way, and have good prices on quality gear. Nate races and trains professionally. You can absolutely trust him to fit you properly and give you expert advice on how to get the most out of your bike experience. At time of writing his cost is $165 for the head to toe fit, and best of all he takes Paypal.

(310) 927-6283, 2501 Broadway, Santa Monica (above Helen’s Cycles)

For those who have not yet ventured, Nanotokyo is the stretch of Sawtelle that runs between Olympic and Santa Monica blvd. It is a Japanese community that goes back to the turn of the 19th century. Many of the nurseries have been there for near eighty or ninety years now. Easier to get to than Little Tokyo downtown, for us 10-a-phobics. The area is littered with all things done Japanese style. There are Chinese restaurants, Korean BBQ (where they serve you beef you grill at your own table), curry joints (Japanese curry, mind you), noodle bars, and normal Tokyo-style Japanese restaurants. Everything a la carte, braised oddities, and a cuisine that caters to the long-settled area. A great field trip experience, especially the food market.

Sawtelle Blvd between Olympic and Santa Monica Blvd.

Serving decent slow cooked ribs Mr. Cecil’s is a good enough place to get sit-down bbq. The ribs are small, and when I asked the waitress said that it was from the “upper meat”, St. Louis style. I know when I’m being shined on and the ribs were f’ing small. They’re served dry, as many people like so you can add your own sauce. Both the sauce and the food were forgettable – passable for bbq but not memorable to crave it again. Still, it’s one of the few sit-down restaurants serving authentic bbq in town where you can seat a large party and get messy together.

(310) 442-1550, 12244 W Pico Blvd, Los Angeles
(818) 905-8400, 13625 Ventura Blvd, Sherman Oaks

The Curiosity Cabinet is a phenomenon that predates the modern museum, gave rise to the science of taxonomy and cladism, and spawned the modern age of medicine and scientific wonder. A Curiosity Cabinet was usually a collection of odd bits gathered by a rich wackjob, or self-proclaimed scientist. They could be jars of aborted foetuses, conjoined twins, and other medical marvels. They could be mutations of trees found on hikes throughout the collector’s lifetime. These collections could be as small as a shoebox, or as large as a ballroom. Some still exist today, held in private, available only to the most determined of treasure hunters. The Museum of Jurassic Technology is built on the same level of awe that the original Curiosity Cabinets inspired. With today’s level of understanding, the only way to get to this wonder is to blur, sometimes completely obliterate truth in order to burst through to the other side of amazement. David Wilson, the recipient of a MacArthur Fellowship for his work in creating the museum with his wife and family, has carefully constructed a place that has become a church for some, an living art piece for others, and for any who experience it, stimulating in wonderful ways. Exhibits draw on Wilson’s background in visual effects and the obsessive creation of dioramas to create installations that beg scrutiny and draw the viewer into their story. Once you’ve been, pick up a copy of Mr. Wilson’s Cabinet of Wonder: Pronged Ants, Horned Humans, Mice on Toast, and Other Marvels of Jurassic Technology by Lawrence Weschler for a more complete biography of David Wilson and the history of the curiosity cabinet.

(310) 836-6131, 9341 Venice Blvd, Culver City

I once hired a squeaky clean kid from Palmdale. A few weeks into his employment I discovered he was Mormon. What I knew of Mormons was that they had mostly Christian beliefs and stayed in tight enclaves. What I now know is that Mormons, more than any other religion, are a dangerously crazy cult whose belief system threatens to usurp democracy in this country and whose members subscribe to a history that is in absolute defiance to reason, evidence, and logic.

One could argue that this can be said of all religions. It’s preposterous to think that two thousand years ago a man cured people by the laying of hands, walked on water, raised the dead, then himself raised from the dead and ascended to heaven to absolve mankind of sin. The belief system based on this myth forgets that if this man was truly omniscient then he was a cheat – he didn’t actually die so his death and resurrection was meaningless. At best he endured pain he knew would end and then transcended his agony – you can do that in a marathon. $cientology is even more looney tunes, going so far as to believe that our bodies are possessed by space aliens, killed by an evil galactic space lord.

Joseph Smith was born in 1805 in Palmyra, New York. A failure at “treasure hunting” who used techniques like divining rods and other charlatan’s tools, Smith was surrounded by people who discovered forming religions was much more profitable than working as a freelancer. The region itself was called the “burned over district”, a term describing the jaded view of the populace who had seen their share of fire and brimstone preachers come and go. But Smith’s force of personality, much like L. Ron Hubbard, David Koresh, or Charles Manson, proved strong enough to convince others of his preposterous visions. What he produced was a mythology that only made sense in the narrow view of his day. First, Smith continually lost the golden plates upon which the great new Book of Mormon were engraved. Second, when finally recovered, no one could look at them except Joseph – who was barely literate – and a transcriber had to be used to record the information. Third, because the mystical plates were written in an ancient language none could understand, Smith had to put a rock (a “peep stone”) into a hat and shove his face in to read the plates. This gives new meaning to talking out of one’s hat. And yet, due to sheer force of personality and lack of DSM-IV or antipsychotics, Smith was able to convince others of his prophetic powers. His ludicrous revelations include a history of peoples who came from Israel thousands of years ago and became two warring tribes – the Lamanites and Nephites. The Lamanites eventually destroyed the Nephites, and the Lamanites became the ancestors of the Native Americans.

To delve any further into the rantings of a madman is to continue to substantiate it. But the Mormon Church STILL BELIEVES THESE ARE FACTS. It is understandable that Christians have been split over a two thousand year old book – its inception predates reliable written history. But it’s incomprehensible that any modern organization would be so attached to its mysticism that it rejects all scientific discovery from its inception point forward. Smith was a poorly educated, racist yokel who cribbed myths from other street preachers and spewed the rest from his possibly schizophrenic mind. And yet, what makes Mormons truly dangerous is not their belief in the rantings of a maniac.

They believe that the rules of God are more important than the rules of Man.

Even after Smith was tragically gunned down by an angry lynch mob (ostensibly for the crime of the destruction of a free press – how poetically tyrannical), his successor, Brigham Young, moved his people outside the United States in order to establish Joseph’s dream of a Mormon theocracy. But because Smith was a megalomaniac narcissist, like all prophets who claim they speak to God (i.e. bin Laden, George Bush, and Ted Haggart), the church doesn’t answer to God. It answers to its leader, who is still a man. Our country rejected rule by God when it rejected the monarchy – we chose secular society. Smith, and later Young, knew this when they moved their zealots into the wasteland of Utah. When Utah was annexed shortly after their migration, the Church and the United States came into continual conflict, including massacres of settlers by Mormons and the persecution of Mormons by Presidents, including Lincoln. These conflicts continue, such as the brutal 1984 murder of a woman and her infant child by a pair of brothers who believed they were acting on the word of God. Though these men were members of the Fundamentalist LDS church, what separates them from their mainstream brethren is not whether or not God speaks to them, but the issue of polygamy.

The only way a pluralist, democratic country can survive is if we stop allowing crazy people to define the argument.

Milk is a well-lit ice cream parlor that also serves glorious concoctions of ice cream products which will fatten you up like a retired quarterback. Cookies and cream coated ice cream bars, dulce de leche and banana ice cream cake, muffins, pastries and more. Their ice cream is more milky than creamy, without the gag quotient in Cold Stone or others. Their milkshakes bring all the boys in the yard, and damn right, it’s better than yours.

(323) 939-6455, 8209 W 3rd St., Los Angeles