Trouble is I wish whoever was in charge of this particular ad had the knowledge to recognize that the unsuccessful juxtaposition of a blithely smiling Kiyosaki sitting next to his proud doomsaying boasts about devastating economic events past and to come (pitched, of course, to draw people to his “free”workshops, so he can profit off them as they learn his “secrets” for how to “profit” off such tragedies) conjures up a vision of him not as someone inspiring trust, but rather as something of shill grinning his way through the gates of hell who can see suckers much more clearly than he can see the future.

It’s through nothing I did and other than contact my webhost I’m at a loss as to how to fix it.

So here’s hoping Dreamhost can figure it out before I go crazy from the bland derivativeness and do something to break it further.

UPDATE (2:32 p.m.): Well, my original theme is back. Yay. Somehow, unbeknownst to myself nor my webhosters it got deactivated so after much fretting, I clicked the “activate” link and everything seems back to how it once was. I hope.

“Posting spoilers is like fucking someone’s kitten. You just don’t do it.”

And he was right to do so.

In my defense, I did the deed after the result was aired on the west coast, but still. It was an important reminder that beyond timezone differences we’re in an age of DVRs and delayed viewing. And it’s simply good and considerate practice to keep the beans unspilled. For how long? I don’t know that answer. I don’t care about that answer.

Fast forward to last night and I’m watching “American Idol.” Early on in the typically interminable finale, shortly after the Bee Gees sang “How Deep Is Your Love” with a couple of this season’s Top-10 finishers, I tweeted how seeing the surviving Brothers Gibb perform, made me smile. Sincerely so.

Not long thereafter came a response from a bike-minded enthusiast I follow whose Twitter name is cyclingnirvana:

“Yes, me too! But the power grab from Janet Jackson made me sick.”

Wondering what he was talking about, I tweeted back:

“Hmmmmm, I think I missed that… Or it hasn’t happened yet?”

And he came back with:

Sorry, it happens late in the show.

Ah, so now the two of us realize two things. I know he’s in a timezone east of me (turns out  way ahead of me in Florida), and he knows I’m in one behind him somewhere. I fleetingly toy with the idea of requesting that he keep any news of the winner to himself but give him the benefit of the doubt that he wouldn’t do such a silly thing.

Not more than a few minutes later while I’m transfixed by Christina Aguilera’s performance, he does:

“Really would have liked to see Crystal Bowersox win. She has an awesome voice and style. But I’m sure she’ll do well.”

I toyed with several harsh replies, such as a replay of Jason’s aforementioned reality check and  “Really would have liked to see you STFU,” but instead because I’m sure he’s a decent fellow who was just tweeting what happening around him I just admonished him with an entirely expletive- and animalporn-free:

“Dood. Way to spoil it for those of us who aren’t in your timezone.”

Which the guy completely ignored. Nirvana? More like some nerve.

UPDATE (11:52 a.m.): Strike that part about him ignoring me. I got a direct message from him this morning apologizing.

Her Twitter name was @glittergran. Her real world name was Sonia and she was a retired fashion editor somewhere in England, and that’s about all I knew about her (which is a helluva lot more than I know about most of the tweeters I follow or am followed by). I’m not even sure how we found each other out there in the ether, but I fell in love with her because of her marvelous personality, which came shining through in 140 characters or less. In turn she enjoyed my tweets and my blog and always found time to encourage others Twitter followers to give me a looksee.

A few weeks earlier this month she suffered a stroke, but was released from the hospital and seemed to be recovering. Then came the news yesterday that she had passed Monday, provided by an assistant of hers who’d taken over her Twitter account.

It surprised me how much her death affected me — even moreso when I found that her final tweet had been to me.

It was sent at the end of a brief exchange (trivial even — but on Twitter aren’t they all?) that began when I sent out a brief harumph of a critique about the disappointing “The Lovely Bones.” In the tweet I said the best thing about the film was its somewhat out-of-nowhere use of The Hollies “Long Cool Woman.” She tweeted back that I made her feel old because she owned the original vinyl album that song is on. I tweeted back “Sweetheart, damn the years. If you’re old then I’m a martian,” followed up by another tweet: “PS. I have my own share of those LPs,” accompanied by a picture (at right) that I snapped of our shell-full of vinyl.

In the busy week that followed I didn’t really notice an absence of Sonia’s presence on twitter. I figured she had doctors’ visits and was doing more important things like resting and getting better. Then came the message to me Friday morning:

Hi I am glittergran’s PA. I know she tweeted to a cyclist in LA so I guess it must be you. In case you don’t know she sadly passed away on Monday. Her funeral is tomorrow at 11am – just in case you want to share a thought at that time. I know she was fond of your blog and tweets.

I was stunned, but handled the shock and the emotion until I was looking at her past tweets and found the last one she sent after I had tweeted that picture to her of my record collection:

Thanks WB. I was having a bad day, but that made me smile.X.

Then I lost it. Jeez, I just got choked up again. Whoo…

Rest in peace, Sonia. My Twitterverse has lost a lot of its sparkle, but I know Heaven’s that much brighter with you there.

I just read your May 8 column about your ongoing failquest to find the “real” Los Angeles on nytimes.com today, and if I wasn’t so enamored with your entirely awesome name, I’d have sworn at you three times already, because normally when I read something like what follows, I just want to cuss like a sailor:

Something escapes me about Los Angeles. Wherever I go, I always imagine I’m finally going to grasp its essence. I try to feel its harmonics in my bones.

I watch the edges of the freeway to see if there is a clue in the debris the traffic sweeps to the sides. I wonder if there would be room for all these cars if they decided to find parking spots at once.

The iconic glimpses don’t help me in my quest — not the sudden view of the Hollywood sign I get from the Hollywood Freeway, not the view of downtown almost floating in the sunset from Pasadena. Every now and then, I turn a corner and think that something essential is about to be revealed. The feeling intensifies all the way up Venice Boulevard into Culver City, and then I’m on National taking one of those curious hidden freeway entrances and suddenly the feeling vanishes.

I’m new to you so I have no knowledge of how long you’ve been in Los Angeles and writing about it. Maybe you’re fresh and fully assimilated into the prevalent car culture. Or maybe you’ve been out here awhile and this is just more of what you’ve been writing. Gawd, I hope not. But either way, as someone who’s a native as well as a perpetual tourist in my own town, I’m the first one to admit your job ain’t easy. I’ve spent a good portion of my life trying to feel the city’s harmonics in my bones and it don’t come simple. Having said that I can only wonder if you’re kidding or if you indeed really think you’ll find what you’re looking for strapped in behind the wheel of a vehicle, seemingly addicted to our freeways and one of the more soulless stretches of Venice Boulevard. As such, if you’re at all legitimately interested in ending your deadend game of seek and hide with this wonderful city, I’m going to tender you the following heartfelt advice.

1. Get off the 101 or the 10 or the 134 or the 405 — and stay off!
2. Get out of your goddam car — and stay out!
3. Get somewhere. On foot, on a bike, on a bus or a train — but for gawd sakes as much as you might want to don’t go to City Walk, or LA Live or the Grove. Go to a Dodger game. Go to Boyle Heights. Go to Union Station. The LA River. Go to Leimert Park. MacArthur Park. Go to the Watts. West Adams. San Fernando Mission. Venice.

Of course if you sincerely think that eye-spying shoulder trash and stalking onramps is the way to go about grasping at any of this city’s essence then my advice will be lost on you. And if so, tell you what: get out. Because it’s never going to happen. You’re just going to pound out more banal columns bemoaning Los Angeles as always being beyond the reach of your vestigial intellect.

So either get your boots on the ground and get busy or do yourself and L.A. a favor and order yourself up a window seat back to NYC. and as the jetbird swings back over land after its LAX take off over the ocean, look down. You’ll have just as good a chance of harmonizing with our lost city from that removed and encapsulated a vantage point as you would from a car stuck in traffic on the 110. And when that fails to happen you should have no trouble picking out the 10 and the 101 and the 405 and the 134 from the grid below and remembering all the good times you had on them.

To those edge-seeking dullards who are too busy growing ironic facial hair and shopping for ironic clothing to waste time considering the ironic error of their “if it’s east of the westside than it’s the eastside” ways, I offered something of the following comment:

Simple. Call it: The Upside. Problem Solved.

It had flavor. It had style. Being “up” from downtown it was not geographically incorrect. And it was certainly more compact and catchy than something compass-like such as Northwestcentraltownville. But of course, with the exception of a fellow commenter or two chiming in with an appreciation for my suggestion, nothing came of it.

At least not until a  couple weeks ago when sure enough Curbed LA decides to resurrect the issue once again — only this time with a surprising twist. Acquiescing that my surrounding area is indeed the “Not Eastside,” the good folks at Curbed made a call for nominations for a poll/contest that will result in what that new name should be. So of course re-submitted my original suggestion, but with no campaigning and little hope that it would make the cut.

Well the contest began this week and guess what?

Not a shocker: currently The Upside is losing badly to gimmicky stuff like “Hipster Heights” and “Griffith Triangle.” Right now the totally boring “North Central” is kicking ass. And as much as I’m biasedly partial to my creation, I gotta admit I voted for “The West Bank,” in part because I’m kicking myself for not suggesting something even better than The Upside: The Left Bank. Doh!

I’m readily dismissive of that trash, but I don’t have the same tolerance for those who stop by this blog and behave in a similar fashion.

Make no mistake, if you want to take me to task or criticize me, I’m totally open to it providing you do so with consideration and in an attempt to promote discourse and dialog — and most importantly: not from behind some sort of phony name and email.

Anything less is fully lacking civility and credibility.

See, I view my blog as a bit of a stage version of my house, in other words there’s no fourth wall and anyone can grab a seat in the theater and observe the stuff I report on.

But it’s my house. And sure, I know that having open and unmoderated comments leaves anyone in the peanut gallery feeling so entitled to stand up and shout what an idiot they think I am. And that’s fine because 89.9523% of the general population is blessed with something that the 10.0477% lack and it’s called a sense of decency.

Speaking of that minority percentage, let’s take this morning’s respondent to my previous post about the bike count, one which I rightfully predicted there would be people who’d have no problem finding me to be way outta line in their not so humble opinions. Using the name “Aw Shux. Credit? No thx!” and the email address of “Anonymousjonson@gmail.com” this person couldn’t resist leaving the following comment:

You can stay home next time, Campbell. You’ll deserve credit when you STFU and realize that it would be inappropriate to name as many volunteers as possible when some would almost definitely be left out. Like you said, hundreds of people participated. Suck it up and be a little more appreciative of the good work being performed by your superiors. Or perhaps next time, you should do a bit of the planning, the organizing, the number crunching, and the writing. Memememememememememe. This count is for the benefit of the community. I’m sure that you were thanked for participating, but did you thank anyone for the opportunity? This shit doesn’t just happen. People work hard for ungrateful folks like yourself all the time. How often do you stop and think about your toilet or your sink or any of the things that you take for granted on a daily basis?

This person then fretted over that for about 12 minutes before coming back and validating all that with this clarifying follow-up:

By the way, I took no part in the bike count. I am simply expressing my opinion of this self-stated self-absorbed blog post. My opinion is completely objective.

Of course in responding accordingly the first thing I did was check the IP Address attached to the “objective” opinion and then do a cursory search to find the server from which it originated to be in Kansas, northeast of Wichita, which is intriguing on a personal level.

It’s a bit of a long shot and one made in the dark to boot, but since the only people with whom I’m affiliated in Kansas are those good folks who work for the company that employs me, and it’s headquartered not at all far away from that server’s reported position outside of Wichita — I’m thinking I may have a coworker of sorts out there who’s found my blog, thinks I’m a total tool, and had no problem from the relative protection of phony names and email addresses telling me so.

It may very well be just some curmudgeon entirely unconnected to me, but if it is as I hypothesize, wouldn’t that type of harassment be special?

The unfortunate thing is had this person, whatever the connection or lack thereof, not been so knee-jerk and such a masked grenade thrower and instead been up-front and even just slightly more considerate in his or her argument — or worse! in a direct email to me — then the possibility for discussion would have existed, a level of credibility would have been established and I wouldn’t have been so immediately dismissive. Certainly I wouldn’t be writing this post.

But I’m guessing that stepping away from that “I’m totally right and you’re absolutely wrong” approach would’ve been too hard for “Aw Shux.” That would’ve required taking responsibility and ownership, you know… like I do in my blog. That would have required having the fortitude to stand in full disclosure behind your opinions, you know… like I do in my blog. And that all stems from that Sense of Decency I spoke of earlier.

Most people got it. Some people don’t.

So here’s the deal: Caveat Malum; Troll Beware. Since any comments submitted become my sovereign property and thus exist at my discretion, toward any that are both derogatory in nature and submitted from anonymous sources I reserve the right not just to delete them — that’s a given — but to edit them as satisfies my devious whims.

For example, I could swap out every “e” in a comment with an “x” or “chq” or “3.1415.” Or just replace the whole demeaning rant with “My cat’s breath smells like catfood,” or “I was going to write something mean but pew! I’m so full of shit I have to go open a window. BRB.” Such modifications may or may not include me replacing one anonymous email with another that I feel far more adequately captures the essence of the sender.

Just think of the fun to be had!

I certainly don’t help matters with my “”This Is Why I Hate” series of posts usually video’d from the POV of me on my bike. I’ve “hated” on mopeds, FedEx, bicyclists, motorists, and boy have I been hated on in return.

Now if you know me, you know that one of the few things I hate is hate. But of course those on the YouToobz, they don’t know me. And whether they’re self-righteous or just good ol’ knuckle-draggers they can get pretty inflamed — especially when I push their buttons.

So you can imagine my surprise when instead of the usual “Get the fuck off the road, Lance!” I found this rather reasoned and articulate reaction from user “simplecreativity” to my “This Is Why I Hate: Fedex” post:

Don’t you think this is a bit much? You hate FedEx because they happen to employ some inconsiderate drivers? Welcome to the world, good sir. This is like me saying I hate people who own Fords because someone in a Ford cuts me off on the road. Take it easy. And while you’re at it, slow down. I bet it wouldn’t have been nearly so threatening if, in the great span of time you had before getting there, you applied the brake.

Relax. Not everything is cause for throwing around the word “hate”. Jeez.

I was actually quite impressed that he resisted the urge to just call me a fucktard or a douchebag (as so many other trollios have on that post), and in cordial response I commended him:

Excellent and intelligent argument, sc (accept for that incorrect assumption that I was somehow speeding on my bike, but I can forgive that mistake). For what it’s worth I used “hate” not because I actually hate, but because its such a loaded word. Somewhere on the Youtubes I even have a vid about “hating” cyclists! Cheers.

Did it stop there? Of course not. The fun had only started and it rapidly sped downhill in the ensuing back and forth (laid out after the jump) until he couldn’t help but demonstrate his hate (no quotes) by calling me a jackass and an asshole and cite the hate-filled comments of all the other mouth-breathing trolls as proof of why he was right and I was beyond help.

Tiring of the folly, I respectfully requested he quit while he’s behind fighting a battle he couldn’t win. When that didn’t happen I then asked him semi-politely a second time, and when again he continued his ranting I was left to the inevitable task of blocking him. Good times.

simplecreativity: It’s a loaded word that’s used far too often, in my opinion. You could convey the same generalization and stereotype FedEx employees to the same degree by saying, ‘FedEx Drivers Can’t Drive!” or something to that effect. You don’t need to employ the ‘loaded’ word and perpetuate its overuse. Don’t use a word unless you mean it. My comments about speed didn’t indicate that you were driving unsafely, only that by going -even slower- you could have guaranteed your own safe passage.

Me: I’ll take your insistence that I modify myself to suit you better under advisement. And interesting… see what you did there? You totally absolved the driver from any responsibility of operating the vehicle safely in the first place and instead put it all on me to slow down and accommodate his irresponsibility. Don’tcha HATE it when that happens? Or would EXTREMELY DISLIKE be more suitable to you?

simplecreativity: And, my sister-in-law is a FedEx driver, and is a conscientious and careful driver. So, case in point, your one experience with a FedEx driver falling maybe thirty six or so inches short of a perfect parking job (that would have caused him to be crushing into that tree, as is quite obvious in your footage) doesn’t give you the right to generate a hateful and inconsiderate statement about FedEx as a whole.

Me: Let’s put aside what rights you insist I have or not. Because ahhhh, now I understand why it struck such a nerve — there’s family involved! But as to your latest assumption about what’s “quite obvious,” tough as it will be you’ll just have to take my word for it since I bike by that tree (and the countless Fedex/UPS/DHL/Whatever vehicles that park properly next to it) on a daily basis and you don’t: it’s not an obstacle. NEXT!?

simplecreativity: Broken laws or not, and regardless of who broke them, you have to modify your own behavior on the road to ensure your own and others’ safety. Even if he broke the law, you flew around it and made a jackass statement about hating FedEx, instead of slowly navigating around the side and slowing down in case someone was unexpectedly crossing in front of the truck (driver or pedestrian). I didn’t absolve the driver, either.

simplecreativity: I made a point, in fact, of calling them inconsiderate at one point. I agree that the way they parked isn’t legally correct, and it does, in fact, block your bicycle lane. But you know what? part of being a good driver/rider is being able to ADAPT and handle yourself in such a situation, rather than acting like a jackass and putting either yourself or others at risk. I’m 17 and somehow I seem to have a better grasp of how to behave as a driver than you do. That’s unsettling.

Me: sc, I appreciated your position initially, but now you’re just getting spiteful and tiresome and desperate. You type tough and proud but you’re just a righteous and indignant blowhard — and repetitive, too. I’d suggest at your young age you work harder to broaden your repository of insults to include variations on the term “jackass.” Might I recommend, “asinine” or “douchey” since that’s now how you’re acting.

Me: Redundancy aside, while it’s interesting you can hypocritically reference me and my actions as “jackass” while ironically taking great offense at my use of the word “hate,” it’s getting rather tedious. So bust out the thesaurus and bone up on alternates. Or better yet, just quit while you’re behind. Because unless you’re willing to spew what you’re spewing to my face — which you are not no matter how you migght insist than you’re just another in a long line of trolls.

simplecreativity: I fail to see where calling you a jackass twice for emphasis is anything like using the word hate. The fact that I only used the one word to insult was no doubt an indication of a grievous and unsettling lack of vocabulary and linguistic prowess, and surely you have demonstrated your superiority. However, you fail to address any of the arguments that I (albeit so, so poorly) made, which makes me think that maybe your only option now is to attack my structure rather than my logic. How pitiful.

Me: Thankfully you wasted no time getting to the operative word in your latest blahblah: FAIL.

simplecreativity: You also fail to provide any examples of my hypocrisy, which just further cements in my mind that you are floundering for defense in your claims of grammatical superiority rather than making an honest effort to defend your actions. Maybe it’s because you know you were just as wrong in your choices as you claim the driver was; or, perhaps it’s the result of an infantile and stubborn mind trapped in an adult body.

Me: And again: FAIL.

Me: I’m sorry, what was that? Oh: FAIL

Me: blahblahfailblahblah

simplecreativity: any realistic examples*

Me: Speaking of realistic examples, I lastly muster as much respect as I can for such an incessant display of arrogance and suggest in all sincerity that you once again quit since you’re either too geographically and/or constitutionally challenged to meet me in person as requested when I last asked you to put up or shut up. Short of that, it’s all just cheapshot keystrokes from a post-puber who I’d block if it wasn’t so much fun watching you fume.

simplecreativity: Spam your own video with comments all you want; I’m comfortable in the knowledge that mostly everyone else who has posted agrees with me, not you. Like I said, all you can do is attack the way I argue, not my arguments themselves. If you’re content to show everyone what a shockingly abrasive asshole you are, I’m content to let you do it. I was just making my point(s) and sharing my opinion. You’re the self-proclaimed superior adult who can only claim to win by attacking my age and methodology.

simplecreativity: Honestly, having just gone back and read everyone else’s comments, it looks like, as I said, mostly everyone else agrees with me (every person that posted directly related to the video and not FedEx in general, at least). Especially ‘smokeddirky’, one of the first people you pursued for suggesting you acted just as inconsiderately and even more dangerously than the truck driver. Heavens forbid we say -you’ve- done anything wrong; as you’re on a bicycle, the world revolves around you, doubtless.

Me: Oh my gawd, simp! Now that I’ve blocked you it will give you a far better opportunity to get on with your life or just plain go get a life. So now that I’ve done you the favor of enabling you to put down the mouse and step away from the keyboard, pleasepleaseplease take this opportunity to open the nearest window or door to the outside world and go fling yourself into it.

You’ve probably figured out I can be a big manly man huff ‘n puff, stomp ‘n growl blowhard. What you may or may not now is I’m waaaaay in touch with my emotional side. As such before I was even a couple minutes into the vid I was shedding tears of joy over this, while simultaneously being envious at such wonderful creativity, and irrationally jealous at everyone who was a part of it either as a participant or spectator.

Sniffling afterwards, I even left the following comment on the vid’s YouTube page:

That was one of the most profoundly and beautifully celebratory things I’ve ever seen. Just miraculous and exuberant and unique and joyous and brilliant. BRAVO!

Your emotional connection may vary. But I’ll tell you what: If Susan and I ever renew our vows in a big church-set ceremony somewhere/time down the road some variation of this marvel is so on!

UPDATE (7.25): And yeah, prior to this video I never thought I’d ever be caught dead owning a Chris Brown tune, but now  I’m not ashamed to say this video made me purchase the single, “Forever,” off of iTunes — and I bet I’m not the only buyer. Brown oughta send the happy couple a wedding gift, for perhaps helping to revitalize his career.

UPDATE (7.27): Looks like embedding has been “disabled by request,” so if there’s trouble viewing it here, go here instead.

So basically if some anonymous blogger with full intent to defame and malign however baselessly or biasedly writes that someone  who we’ll call “Jonas Dough” is a “raging pedophile and serial killer” I am entirely under no obligation to verify and/or debunk or in anyway research such opinion and am at entirely protected liberty to reprint it verbatim as fact.

Not that I do much in the way of such ax-grindingly libelous and patently damaging garbage like that found in the above-mentioned post at Eater LA, but it’s really good to know I can if I want to.

And by “really good” I mean really lame.

And by really lame I mean that if this kind of full-assed, irresponsible reporting being condoned and allowed to stand by Eater LA’s overlords at Curbed Network simply because there is precedent to do so (and probably because the resulting increased traffic is a cha-ching) then the least I can do is wipe Eater LA’s sister site Curbed LA from my blogroll and delete my account as a commenter.

UPDATE (11:04 a.m.): Eater LA has offered the owners of the restaurant the opportunity to argue the unsubstantiated allegations presented in the post. That’s a bit like Salem giving its alleged witches the chance to argue against their guilt with nooses tightened around their necks.

It almost pains me to spell this out because it’s common fucking sense, but instead  of “equal time” after the defamation (while also leaving it live), the simple and proper and legitimate and fair and ethical action Eater LA should have taken would have been to use the “tipster” accusations as a springboard to contact the eatery’s owners and get their responses to them and then post a balanced item about it. But instead Eater LA and Curbed Network is condoning laziness and irresponsibility and doing so from behind the protection afforded this indecent section of a so-called Decency Act, while snickering as it reaps the benefits from the increased traffic the controversy has generated.