The Forbidden City

Maybe it's his concealed, yet active glass- is- half-full optimism, but when bad things happen to the Militant, it's not so bad after all -- because it just becomes the subject of another blog entry! Muhahahahaha....

Take Monday night, for example. The Militant, after completing some classified militant activities in the Civic Center area, decided to take a casual, yet productive Campbellesque bike ride through Downtown Los Angeles. As he passed by the John Ferraro Department of Water and Power building (named after Tom LaBonge's old boss and predecessor), he was so enamored by the bright orange glow of the ornate water fountains that lit up the north and south ends of the structure that he wanted to go towards the south end and take a picture of the fire-like fountains with the Downtown skyline in the background. What a shot, huh?

But when the Militant approached the building, walking his two-wheeled chariot, he was predictably met by a sentry...

Security Guard: Sir, you cannot bring your bicycle here.

Militant Angeleno: Oh, the Militant just wants to go over there and take a picture.

SG: Sir, you are not allowed to take pictures here.

MA: The Militant just wants to take a picture of Downtown

SG: Sir, you are not allowed to take pictures of this building without a permit.

MA: The Militant doesn't want to take a picture of this building, he just wants to take a picture of Downtown from here.

SG: Sir, I said, you are not allowed to take pictures here.

MA: The Militant isn't allowed to take a picture of Downtown?!?!?

SG: Sir, if you want to take a picture of Downtown, then go Downtown! You also aren't allowed to bring a bike in here.

MA: [This guy just doesn't get it...] Okay, so what if the Militant leaves his bike here and just walks up there and takes a picture?

SG: What part of no don't you understand? I'm not allowed to say anything, but you are not allowed to take a picture on this property without a permit!

MA: [Relents, as this is going nowhere, except for the blog] Okay, okay... [walks away, with disheveled look on his face]

SG: Hey! Sir! I hope you understand!

MA: [Continues to walk away, one hand pushing the bike, another holding the flat-palm "Talk to the Hand" gesture towards SG]

Then the Militant went ahead and took some pictures from the sidewalk. Of course, it wasn't from the angle that he intended, but it did include the fountains...and that building, which he supposedly wasn't allowed to take a picture of (pictured above).

The security dude was obviously doing his job, but in a more sensible world, what harm would a single person taking a photo not of the building but of the Downtown skyline with the fountains in the foreground do? It's not like the Militant intends to do some tagging or anything of that nature. And as for the bike? It wasn't as if the Militant went barging into the property, X-Games style. He had enough sensibility to walk the bike. What the Militant gonna do? Crash it into the building? And property the Militant's ass - his tax money - and that of four million others - pay to keep that fountain on (as well as the rest of that building). The Militant was instantly reminded of a time when he took pictures of the (M) Red Line train at a station and was told to ixnay on the otosphay because "The Metro is a private agency." Boy would some local prominent radical Libertarian anti-transit types looove to hear that one!

The Militant doesn't need to tell you what's wrong here. The city needs to change its public space paradigm. Ironic how no one can enjoy the city-owned DWP fountains up close at night, but people can certainly enjoy other visually-stunning waterworks in privately-owned spaces like the California Plaza Watercourt a few blocks away. People will always be attracted to pretty things, and want to be in close proximity to them. The more people are enjoying it, and allowed to enjoy it, the less likely it would be for undesirables to come barging in. Take the beach, for example. You hardly see people tag lifeguard stations or cause trouble. So why not on the mainland?

Damn you, turn of the 20th century Midwestern puritan transplants! Barging in here with your $1 Santa Fe passenger train ticket, acting like you own the place! We had a public plaza, we had a more walkable city, we had whites and Latinos getting along, and you took all that away from us (Of course modern-day Midwesterners are in total denial when the Militant brings that bit of history up to them...Maybe that's why they insist Los Angeles "has no history"...so they won't be able to take the blame)!

The Militant Cools Down For A Bit

After that little incident, the Militant headed over to a country that has a better sense of public urban space:: Japan. Well, not really, more like the closest thing we have to Japan - it's local mini-me version, Little Tokyo.

As he rounded Central Avenue and passed by a certain storefront that recently made various Downtown bloggers jump up and down like an antsy 5-year old with a full bladder, the Militant approached Japanese Village Plaza where he wanted to get some mochi ice cream action on. Unfortunately, the famed confectionery shop was closed for the night, so he headed to an unspecified nonfat frozen yogurt joint nearby. Can you guess which one?

Here's a clue: The Militant ordered their raspberry- pomegranate flavored yogurt.

He also noticed that their napkins were still printed with their former name: "IF - Italian Frozen Delight," which was a short-lived name change after their original moniker, "Fiore," circa August 2006. Perhaps an Italian-owned flower shop slapped them with a cease-and-desist (Never mind that nonfat frozen Italian yogurt doesn't even exist in Italy).

After he consumed his treat, topped with granola, red bean and small chewy mochi cubes (hey, he had to get a little mochi action somehow...), the Militant took a few steps back in the plaza and took this classic shot of the two Little Tokyo fro-yo warriors at battle (pictured above).

Classic.

Of course there were tons more people at the new kid on the block. With people hanging out, eating or socializing outside...in front of a privately-owned establishment.

Hey, it's just another night in DTLA.

Foreign Correspondence: Seattle Gets Berry Original

With all this talk of the impending expansion of the Pinkberry frozen yogurt empire both here in California and Out East, one would expect to see the chain (or one of its other So Cal-based competitors) pop up elsewhere.

One of the Militant's trusted Seattle-based operatives/militia members recently informed the Militant that in up the Emerald City, apparently they couldn't wait for all that, so they started their own.

The recently-relocated operative informed the Militant of the spotting of a new fro-yo store in his new Capitol Hill hood (apparently, the operative once described, the Seattle equivalent of Silver_Lake).

The name? "Crazyberry."

The Militant lapsed into LOL mode for at least a minute.

The operative also tipped the Militant off to a Seattle-based blog entry that described Seattleites' apparent "Pinkberry envy" (wait, don't those Washingtonians hate anything and everything that is California?) and mentioned yet another fro-yo ripoff: "Yoberry."
The Militant gets a kick out of all this, especially if and when P-berry moves into the Puget Sound region and enters a market already saturated with imitators, while Red Mango plays further damage control and pushes its "Originator" mantra even further.

According to a well-respected ice cream maker in Los Angeles who is also an operative of the Militant, these "Nonfat Italian frozen yogurt" chains are a joke, since the nightly cleaning and maintenance of the yogurt dispensing machines is extremely costly and labor-intensive (he told the Militant that it takes about an hour and a half each night to properly clean the machines) and that setting up shop in chic, high-lease areas will bite their asses in the end.

And besides, the ice cream maker operative quipped, "They don't even have that stuff in Italy."

Photo Credit: Crazyberry in Seattle, WA by Valleypinoy.

Low on Lotus: 2007 Lotus Festival Coverage, Day 1

Friday night marked the start of the 30th Lotus Festival (not the "30th annual" - it actually started 35 years ago but due to budget cuts there were no Lotus Festivals in 1978-79 and 1986-1988), with a first-time-ever twilight jazz concert to get things warmed up. Only a few merchandise booths were open, and the food court and "Flower Island" booths lay dormant. The concert featured three jazz acts - none of which had any connection to Asian/Pacific Islander culture, but hey, there ain't nothin' wrong with jazz. The Militant arrived in time to catch the Cross Hart Jazz Experience lay down the gamut from bebop to jazz-funk, and even spotted an old friend from way back among one of the bandmembers. Right after the concert was a brief fireworks display which made Echo Park literally live up to its name (wisely, they're saving the big show for Saturday night).
The unfortunate thing was, as shown in the photo above, the dearth of the festival's namesake. What is normally known as the largest lotus bed outside of Asia didn't have much to show for it this year, with a meager row of lotuses lining the western shore. Damn you, global warming! (Actually, lotus flowers normally thrive in warmer climates). But Saturday is where the fun really begins, with musical and dance performances, dragon boat races, wok popcorn and neighborhood gentro-hipsters whining why none of the vendors in the food court serve vegan food (Tsk, tsk, y'all don't get it...)

The Cross Hart Jazz Experience provides the jazzy sundown vibe.


One of China's greatest contributions to the world lights up the lake
and echoes throughout the park.

Ridazz Wanted
After the last firework popped and after his chat with his jazz musician friend from way back, this Militant hopped on his bike and headed due west on Sunset, when he passed another bicyclist on the opposite side of the street who shouted, "Midnight Ridazz!" and the Militant replying, "Where?" and hearing the answer, "Down the street, Sunset and Echo Park!" So the Militant made a u-turn and ended up in the parking lot of one of the last five Pioneer Chicken stands in the world where a gradually-growing mass of handlebars, wheels, spokes and frames convened under the golden glow of sodium lights. This soon became my first full-fledged Midnight Ridazz ride (fatigue after a Critical Mass ride in late April caused the Militant to bow out of the MR ride before it began). This Friday the 13th ride started with an LAPD SUV apparently looking to spoil the fun of over 500 ridazz, but luckily on this night, the cops were there to guarantee our safety by blocking off intersections and reminding us not to ride on the streets British-style. The under-20-mile ride, in perhaps the greatest of night weather conditions, snaked from Echo Park to Historic Filipinotown to MacArthur Park to Koreatown to Pico-Union to the Byzantine-Latino Quarter to West Adams to Downtown to Chinatown to the Arts District to Boyle Heights (in The Real Eastside), through the industrial district back to Downtown and Echo Park. In many ways it was a nocturnal version of the Acura L.A. Bike Tour, (right down to approaching Downtown on the 6th Street Viaduct) which the Militant rode back in March after a seven-year hiatus.

The Militant observed that the overwhelming majority of the ridazz were of the white velohipster crowd, yet there were a good number of Asians and Latinos in the pack. But out of the sesqui-mil tally there were only three ridazz of black descent. What exactly is keepin' more of the brothaz and sistaz from bein' ridazz?

Ultimately the sheer quantity of ridazz became a human invincibility shield, allowing people to be out in the open in neighborhoods and areas most of them wouldn't dare caught being in otherwise. Residents curiously peeked outside windows and stood on balconies and fire escapes to see the crowd, ultimately cheering them on. Riding around MacArthur Park or through the dank alleys of the industrial district on the east bank of the Los Angeles River was suddenly no big deal (though the foul smell of the Vernon meat packing plants that wafted up the river was perhaps the low point here), these ridazz have taken them over.

Happy Birthday, Metro Rail!
Today, Bastille Day, marks the 17th anniversary of the opening of the Metro Blue Line, the first of what are now five lines in Los Angeles' Metro Rail system. The Militant still clearly remembers that hot summer Saturday in 1990 when the shiny Japanese-built light rail train emerged from the Flower Street tunnel amidst a blue-colored fog and blue confetti, and arrived at Pico Station, which, for the first seven months of operation, was the northern terminus of the Blue Line. A dedication ceremony took place on the Pico Station platform, where VIPs sat (including Mayor Tom Bradley sitting not far from the then-brown-haired future Mayor Jim Hahn). Bleachers were erected across Flower Street, where members of the public waved blue pom-poms handed out to them, soon getting in a long line to ride this new-fangled contraption to Anaheim Street in Long Beach (the southern loop stations did not open until September '90). Today, the Blue Line, now with repainted trains, all devoid of the color blue, is an emo teen, shuttling from north to south and back, from the lows of the subway tunnel to the highs of the bridge over the 710 freeway, carrying 70,000 passengers a day.

Fro-Yo, Oh No!
It looks like Echo Park isn't immune from the Fro-Yo Cold War as this banner was seen at the corner of Alvarado St. and Sunset Blvd. Minus one point for using the name of a color; plus one point for not using any alteration of the word "berry."

Yet Another Pinkberry-Related Los Angeles Blog Entry. Wheee!!!

Yes, this Militant is not above getting bitten by the Pinkberry bug. Yes, the whole fro-yo Cold War has been detailed several times over. Yes, this Militant has sampled competitors CeFiore and Kiwiberri (but not yet Yogotango, Roseberry, Mr. Snowberry, Berri Good, Chuckberry, Berri Gordy or Halleberri) but frankly I don't care. When the weather is warm, frozen yogurt, by any other name, really hits the spot (and so does ice cream, but I'll get to that in a future entry...). So I couldn't help it if there's a spankin' new P'berry on the northwestern fringe of Silver_Lake (underscore added to remind all the gentro-hipsters out there that it's actually spelled as two words) on Hyperion and Rowena (which is technically in Los Feliz due to the location of the community sign, but since there's already a P'berry in Los Feliz, I'll let this one slide). Everyone in both the Traditional Media and the Blogosphere has talked in detail about the flavor or content of the yogurt, whether it is actual yogurt, the choice of toppings or which nonfat frozen yogurt (NFY) chain is the best.

I'm here to talk about those stupid overpriced trinkets on sale on the P'berry shelves.

Unlike competitor CeFiore, P'berry makes no claims as to being Italian-style NFY, but for some reason they thought selling colored plastic trinkets from Italian design firm Alessi was cool. Gee, I dunno. Yes, they look neat on static display but that's about it. I don't think paying $69.00 for a stupid dog bowl is what I have in mind when craving some original flavor NFY topped with strawberries, mangoes and almonds on a warm summer day. I don't even think my dog would care if I did. But hooray for gratuitous consumerism, eh? During my P'berry visit today, a preschool-aged kid quietly begged his mom to get him a "Cico," a little blue alien-looking guy in a baseball cap holding a spoon. The store staff told the mom that they were out of stock, but the child was persistent and the mom relented. She even got the manager out and asked if she could buy the display model. The manager let her, and got a box to package it in. All this for $15 extra. All this while the NFY line was being held up. Turns out "Cico" is actually, according to the Alessi site, an "Egg cup with salt castor and spoon." Wow. I guess egg cups are really the in-thing with kids these days. And here I thought it was Dora the Explorer, Spongebob Squarepants or even Nintendo Wii. Looks like my four-year-old goddaughter down in San Diego is getting an egg cup this Christmas!

Maybe I'm a little too cynical. Some of those Alessi trinkets might actually be practical. I can get a small colored container and instead of ordering having cereal toppings on my P'berry, I can just go BYO Fruity Pebbles! Then again, some of those trinkets, in my Militant opinion, border on being racist.

Now some Silver_Lakers, whether longtime residents or gentro-hipsters, have lamented that P'berry represents a dangerous venture into the "corporatization" of New Ivanhoe. I guess having a Trader Joe's must really bother them, or even having not one, but two 7-Elevens. Besides, if these folks are as progressive as they claim to be, surely they would welcome a minority- and female- owned company, right?

Besides, 10 years from now when people in Podunk get into the NFY craze, you know where it all began.

Over The Hilton

So as I savored my P'berry, I spotted a Mistubishi Outlander in the tiny mini-mall parking lot (I rode my bike, no parking worries for me!) driving off onto Hyperion with the words "FREE PARIS!" painted on the rear window. Yeah, how nice. I mean I would totally agree with that sentiment...during the Nazi occupation. I guess one attention whore begets another.

Bain Gets Guitarded

Wetlake Village-based music store chain Guitar Center was sold today for $2.1 billion to Boston-based private equity firm Bain Capital Partners, LLC (Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney is one of its founding partners). GC, or as this very musically-inclined Militant calls it, "Guitard Center," is the largest musical instrument company in America and began here in Hollywood, across the street from its current location on Sunset Blvd's guitar row. Speaking of which, the reason for such a plethora of pickin' points of purchase? Guitar pioneer Les Paul once lived in the Sunset-Gardner neighborhood and several guitar companies wanted to be in close proximity to his lab.

Though GC is a popular subject of ridicule for the Militant elsewhere on the net, I lament the loss of yet another Southern California-based firm selling out to our East Coast colonizers, and this just makes me mad. DO WE !@#$% OWN ANYTHING ANYMORE?

Oh well, at least we still got Pinkberry.