I spent some good part of the last three hours (breaks for dinner, dog-wrestling) trying to figure out how to upload video from my phone to this er, space. Failed for reasons too boring to recount. Namely lack of patience. Video in question depicted four, count 'em, cops issuing a ticket to the woman from whom I buy pupusas on the corner of Wilshire and Alvarado every week or two. My stomach can't handle pupusas every day, but they are good pupusas, I will vouch, and lousy cops. Nice guys all, I'm sure, whatever, if you say so, but their main purpose in the neighborhood, as far as I can tell, is to keep the fear quotient cranked and the local entrepreneurs on the run. By which I mean vendors of pupusas, tamales, bacon-wrapped hot dogs, peanuts, DVDs, funny little bracelets, cigarettes, big bottles of Pantene, other necessities of working class life. All of them in a constant state of alert, ready to abandon their wares as soon as the big, bad wolves attack, always in packs, howling woop woop like they do, fierce 9mm teeth glinting in the noonday sun. Apparently the free market is only okay sometimes, for some folks. (I agree: we just have different sets of folks in mind.) In the bad old days, for which I have a soft spot, the crack dealers never had it this rough. Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Good lookin' out. Anyhow, keep those cell phone cameras handy. Watch the watchers. It makes 'em sweat. Here's a pretty picture of clouds:
