TO-bound
Palma Violets at Echoplex in LA
Burn in Hell, One Direction
See this?
This is the scene outside our hotel, the Andaz, a.k.a. The Riot Hyatt. Where Keith Richards threw a TV set out of his room window. Where Jim Morrison was evicted for hanging off a balcony. Where Led Zeppelin stayed, and conducted…experiments.
This is the scene now, at this fabled rock and roll hotel. The British boy band, One Direction, has attracted scores of prepubescent girls, who shriek and gawk and take pictures at all times of day and night. They’ve been here for days.
I hate them.
One Direction, that is. I wish they would go away, and take their retinue of sidewalk-squatting fans with them. The ghosts of Richards, Morrison and Bonham deserve to be respected.
Not treated to this Hellish scene.
(Us, too.)
Target loves me
So we go to the Target at Santa Monica and La Brea. While there, my daughter calls me. I always stop what I’m doing when my kids call. So the small thing of sunblock gets dropped, too: into my cargo pants side pocket.
I get back to the Riot Hyatt and see it. I am horrified. I HAVE NEVER STOLEN ANYTHING IN MY LIFE. EVER. Even when I was a kid.
So I make Lala take me back. She is amused. At Target guest services, they are in shock. “Thank you for being so honest, sir.”
And $2.17 later, my soul is repaired.
The secret can now be revealed
The above gig was to have featured a Hot Nasties reunion. First time together in more than thirty years. Onstage with the Palma Violets.
It was not to be. Ras Pierre couldn’t get away from work stuff in Calgary. So the reunion will just feature me, in front of a sold-out Los Angeles crowd who don’t know what a Hot Nasty is.
Oh well. Would’ve been a gig for the ages. Maybe one day.









