Things About LA That I...
... Won't Miss: (10.) Premature Evacuators
Dodger games are one thing. If you know anything about baseball, you know that Dodger Stadium follows up the hallowed Seventh-Inning Stretch with an Eighth-Inning Exodus. Fine. They punish no one but their own fans and team. All the more aural elbow room for that drunk Chicago guy behind us at every game (regardless of visiting team) who ends every bellowed sarcasting with "buddy."
(Nomo misses the plate: "It's the thing that looks like a house, buddy!")
But it gets absurd. We saw "Urinetown" on Friday at the Wilshire, and people were getting up and leaving during the final number. The cast assembled onstage to accept their curtain call, and wound up looking at more backs than Wilt Chamberlain in a road-game hotel.
People in LA avoid endings like Godzilla avoids non-cardboard buildings.
Yet they would only feel terror of the apocalypse if shuffling off this mortal coil somehow involved waiting in line to leave a parking lot. If the Book of Revelations had been revealed here, it would have been a lot less intimidating.
GOD: "... The heavens will blacken. The dead will rise. Thy flesh will melt from the bone. Thine eyes will be as pools of blood. Rivers of fire will-- Hey! Where are you going? Come back... I'm foretelling your doom! Don't you want to know how it ends? There'll be... [WAVES DISMISSIVELY] Feh.
... Will Miss: (10.) My Molar
Goodbye, recently extracted molar. I will miss you.
I will miss the songs of pain you sang to me over dinner or glasses of water. Our intimate late nights as you gently massaged my face with surging nervous lava. Your implanted chip tracking my whereabouts, as you assured the government that, no, my boring life was not just a front.
Fare thee well, Toothy.
Today's FOCR: "Since You're Gone," The Cars, Shake It Up