June 21, 2010

“I’m not going to lose my spot,” Hicks said. “These are the Lakers we’re talking about. So what you’re thinking is true. I’ll shit my pants no problem and just live with it. Thats’ what these pricks didn’t expect, that Laker fans will shit themselves and sit in it just for the chance to see our heroes right here in this here parade.”

 About 10:15 a.m., a Los Angeles sanitation truck dropped off eight portable toilets near a Chevron Station at Figueroa and Washington streets, where a long line of people had formed outside waiting to buy food and use the bathroom.

“There were calls for additional Porta-Potties when we realized there was a need,” said the driver of the truck, who did not want to be identified. “There are more on the way.”

Several people started running toward the Porta-Potties, myself among them. Knocking down one woman and elbowing a younger and very masculine looking girl aside, I reached the door of one and pulled it open. A woman inside was just finishing and glanced at me in shock. I told her who I was and when I saw that it didn’t register, I simply grabbed her and pushed her out of the door, toilet paper hanging from her…yes, her ass. Her fault, not mine. I yanked my slacks down, rolled down the panty hose and had a seat. It smelled like a steer’s ass in there.

“It’s so frustrating,” said Jackie Berger of Manhattan Beach, who was in the stall next to me. She had been waiting in line outside the store for more than an hour.

At Venice Boulevard between Flower and Figueroa streets, a line formed immediately outside two portable toilets.

Leo Martinez, an L.A. city sanitation supervisor, said it quickly became obvious that the 18 commode booths originally requested for Staples Center wouldn’t be enough, so the city brought in reinforcements.

“You see last year they had the Coliseum open and that fits 90,000,” he said. “This year everybody’s in the street.” That’s right Mr. Martinez. And everybody is shitting in the street too.

The city now expects to scatter 40 portable toilets between Staples Center and the Galen Center, the start and end of the parade route. But Martinez said he wasn’t sure if that would meet the demand.

“I’m not sure how much is enough,” he said, eyeing the huge crowd at Venice and Figueroa. “I guess if we start stepping in it, we didn’t have enough.” He laughed, showing his teeth. Wedged between the front two was a wad of spinach. What a foul morning…a morning that promised so much and wound up nothing more than a shit tour.

Margaret Grey Reporting

amanda green

….me using “high-tech” equipment on my show…all kinds of processing, bla, bla…I never have. You know some people in this business just don’t know jack shit about it and figure you can’t do anything without major tech assistance because…..well…..just because. I’ve basically made my name doing shit no one else can do and they’ve gotta bring everything back down to earth lest they develop a permanent inferiority complex. Hey nerd. I don’t use all that shit. A microphone, a phone, sound effects. Pound on.

……Phil smacks Bud for saying no woman will marry that poor guy who had to cut off his own arm when it got wedged in that furnace. “No girl wants to marry Captain Hook.”

G.O.P. Stalwart Says Come, the Gulf’s Fine

“They are gorgeous, pristine,” the governor gushed on Tuesday about Mississippi’s shores.

“Beautiful,” he reiterated Wednesday at a La-Z-Boy plant in Newton. “The coast is clear, and come on down.”

He is a former lobbyist, Republican National Committee chairman, White House political director and a familiar enough piece of the national political furniture to be known simply as “Haley” within certain Washington circles.

Now, for the second time in five years, Mr. Barbour finds himself in a highly visible role during a Gulf Coast catastrophe. As he nears the end of his eight-year stint as governor, Mr. Barbour’s performance could help shift his political image from that of an insider party boss to an out-front crisis manager — and possible presidential candidate in 2012.

Mr. Barbour, 62, is proof that if you hang around long enough, even a good old boy lobbyist and political party animal can come back into fashion — or at least be recast by circumstance. A self-described “fat redneck,” he speaks in a marble-mouthed Mississippi drawl, loves Maker’s Mark bourbon, resembles an adult version of Spanky from the Little Rascals and fits no one’s ideal of a sleek new political model: squat, big-bellied and pink-jowled, he looks as if he should have a cigar in his mouth at all times (and occasionally does).

Mr. Barbour, one of the few politicians whose standing was enhanced by his response to Hurricane Katrina, has eagerly taken on the post of de facto director of tourism for the Gulf Coast, a task only slightly less daunting or thankless than heading a public relations campaign for BP. He has complained bitterly about what he calls the news media’s exaggerations and distortions about the spill.

“I’ve heard reports that this would be a threat to Europe,” he railed to The Sun-Herald newspaper. “That’s about the same as saying I’m going to grow wings and take flight.”

Unlike his counterpart in Louisiana, Bobby Jindal, Mr. Barbour has mostly been spared the day-to-day incursion of oil along his state’s shores. That has allowed him to promote his bona fides on popular Republican causes (he remains enthusiastic about offshore drilling, an important source of jobs in his state) and bogeymen (White House-backed “cap and trade” energy policies).

Mr. Barbour has been generally muted in his criticism of BP and was among the first Republicans to object to the Obama administration’s insistence on a $20 billion BP escrow account to settle damage claims. He has also warned against efforts by the left to turn the spill into a regulatory cause célèbre.

“A bunch of liberal elites were hoping this would be the Three Mile Island of offshore drilling,” Mr. Barbour recently told the Mississippi Manufacturers Association.

His upbeat attitude about the spill reflects the happy-go-Haley persona that he adopted from his political idol and former boss, Ronald Reagan. But his views have drawn criticism from local Democrats, assorted bloggers and late-night comedians, even inspiring ridicule in a Web video juxtaposing his beach-promoting statements with those of the mayor in the movie “Jaws,” who urged tourists to enjoy shark-infested waters.

“I appreciate him promoting tourism,” said Diane Peranich, a Democratic state representative from the coast, “but not to the detriment of reality.”

Mr. Barbour exudes a throwback vibe harking to a time when politicians were unafraid to call themselves “politicians” and could actually admit to being well-connected insiders who know people in Washington, tell the occasional dirty joke and sip a cocktail or three after hours.

“Haley is on a neck-hugging basis with more people in politics than you will ever see,” said Martin Wiseman, the director of the John C. Stennis Institute of Government at Mississippi State University.

Recently dubbed “the anti-Obama” by Newsweek, Mr. Barbour has attributes that could prove to be a counterintuitive asset for him if he decides to seek the Republican presidential nomination in 2012. “If you think ahead to 2012, we are not going to beat the president with someone who has the same M.O. as the president,” said Nick Ayers, the executive director of the Republican Governors Association, of which Mr. Barbour is chairman.

Indeed, watching Mr. Barbour last week with Mr. Obama — the two were shown eating lemon-lime snow cones on a Gulfport beach — offered a tableau of contrasts.

At the Gulfport-Biloxi airport, Mr. Barbour stood at the foot of the Air Force One staircase and received the president, who slapped the much-shorter governor’s wide back as they strolled across the tarmac. Wearing dark sunglasses and a pale blue polo shirt, the former super-lobbyist barreled along behind Mr. Obama (who has often derided lobbyists).

Mr. Obama waded into a small crowd, reaching deep across the rope line, while Mr. Barbour headed in another direction, swinging his tree-trunk arms and giving dainty little waves to children behind the barrier.

Later, after the president departed, Mr. Barbour complained to a small group of reporters about all those pictures of oil-blackened pelicans that seem to accompany every national media story about the spill. “Why don’t you assholes get with the team? Jump on board and come on in the for the big win,” he said, holding a cup of melted gellato above his mouth and emptying it.

muy thanks to Rob Holecko