California: You DO think I’m fixable, don’t you, Jerry Brown? [pause] You didn’t answer me right away. You had to think about it first, didn’t you? If you really had thought I was fixable, you would’ve spoken right up. You would have actually entered the race by now. I know when I’ve been insulted. I KNOW WHEN I’VE BEEN INSULTED.
Jerry Brown: Good grief.
California politics never ceases to entertain.
The other day, Steve Poizner, one of the GOP candidates for governor, accused rival Meg Whitman of “extortion and bribery” for suggesting that her campaign should explore ways to get Poizner out of the race. The LA Times’ George Skelton, often the voice of pragmatism, says that either this “wild-eyed accusation” is an “attention-grabbing stunt by a desperate dark horse” — or, essentially, Poizner is nuts. (Others might say both.)
In other news, the California Democratic Party has taken to calling disastrous Hewlett Packard CEO — and now Senate candidate! — Carly Fiorina “Carly Failorina.” That made me laugh out loud. They’ve even launched a website — and here it is. Hey, if some of my CDP donations have gone to this, I have to write a bigger check.
I was astonished this morning to see a new section in my Los Angeles Times. The paper has been killing sections left and right the past five years or so (including the “Outdoors” section, which featured superb writing and great features). But there it is: The LATextra section, devoted to “late-breaking” news that comes in after the rest of the paper has been put to bed. That’s what it says, anyway, although I couldn’t quite figure out when I glanced at it how this would work: the rest of the paper carries news in the relevant sections, and then this new section just adds up to… miscellaneous?
But actually, none of that matters. The section wasn’t launched to cover newer news. Turns out it’s another cost-cutting measure.
I just learned that my friend and mentor Lars Hansen died yesterday. Which was precisely the day I found him on Facebook and sent him a Friend request. It had been almost six years since I’d seen Lars — I wish I’d sent that Friend request (or an email, or made a phone call), far sooner.
Here’s the obit. I’m going to put more up here today or tomorrow. Lars is someone who was very kind and generous to me, and who really shaped my life and career.
Tonight we’re holding readings from my playwrights’ workshop. Please join us for the readings and a small catered reception afterward. The event is free — and so is the parking, making this a truly special occasion in Los Angeles.
Where: [Inside] the Ford. (That would be inside the Ford Amphitheatre.) The address is 2580 Cahuenga East, Los Angeles, 90068.
When: Tonight at 8 p.m.
What: Readings of
Tattoos (Act 1) by William Young, directed by Joe Gill
Old Dog Blue by Bill Berry, directed by Libby Letlow
Singular of Dice by Ross Tedford Kendall, directed by Vesna Hocevar
Hope you can join us.
It’s almost 1 a.m. and my 11-year-old daughter just came downstairs and interrupted my watching a terrible Kevin Spacey movie about Bobby Darin. The way she charged into the room and then just stood there, I could tell she was sleepwalking.
“I just wanted to tell you something,” she said. “There are these two pieces of driftwood on my bed.”
“Okay,” I said, gratefully switching off the movie. “C’mon.” She went into the kitchen and I called after her while I gathered up the remnants of a late snack I’d had of an orange, some filet, and a glass of shiraz: “Wait for me. Just wait there.” I didn’t want her roaming around the house. I came into the kitchen and set the plate and glass on the counter and got myself some water for my bedside. She waited in the dining area. “Okay,” I said, “You can show me that driftwood.”
We got upstairs and she turned on her bedside lamp and slipped into bed, running her hand over the coverlet to her right. “I don’t know what happened,” she said, feeling where the driftwood had been. I knew from experience that just minutes before, she had seen and felt that driftwood right there. “It was right here.”
“I know,” I said. I turned off her light and kissed her good night. “I’ve had it my whole life.”
Slate recounts how John Edwards kept his affair hidden for more than two years while maintaining his high-profile job hunt. (Ultimately, we hired someone else. Thankfully.) Anyone this devious would’ve been wasted in the White House. Note to spy agencies domestic and foreign: He’s available.
A few quick questions about the closing of the Pasadena Playhouse:
I tweeted this yesterday. Now the LA Times has the story: The Pasadena Playhouse, the state theatre of California, is closing its doors.
Steven Eich is quoted. I’ve known Steve for almost 10 years and have immense respect for his abilities. I also know his love for the artform. Closing the theatre couldn’t have been an easy decision for him or for anyone involved.
Is there hope for keeping it open? I hope so. Whether or not that happens, this is a further reflection on the mismanagement of California, a place where the state theatre is left to buckle and break — just like the schools, just like roads and bridges, just like emergency rescue, just like higher education, just like everything else.