Eric Breed (June 12, 1971 - November 22, 2008)

Never change my ways for the world or the government.
If I was the president, then I would stay phat.
You leave it up to me, I'd paint the white house black

There ain't no future in yo' frontin'.....

R.I.P. MC Breed

Do Not Enter

A quick shot of the view from my office to the median across the street. The irony of this image caught my attention before leaving to a meeting.

Our offices are located at the center of LA, in an upscale area known as Carthay Circle.

I wonder why they chose the cement over the grass? Maybe they thought that was as far as they could go?

Gate K18

Two hour lay over with one hour and twenty more minutes until we board.

I'm sitting at a row of vinyl covered foam padded seats installed circa 1992. To my left is the check-in counter. It is difficult for anyone at the gate not to listen to the chatter of the three people behind it.

The first is a woman in her late thirties with hair like silly string, four different shades of dirty blonde. The second is a friendly looking woman in a gray suit with librarian glasses complete with the faded gold chain connected to each corner of the frames and strapped around her neck. The final person is a pilot, in his early fifties with a Dunkin Donut cup of coffee in his right hand proudly wearing a disco 70's salt and pepper mustache.

Silly string is arguing with the librarian about being slighted 10 minutes on her break while the flight was still 15 minutes late. Loud, screechy and brash she was going to make sure everyone within ear shot knew she had been wronged. The librarian, most likely her senior, listened intently, nodding her head, filling out paper work and making eye contact.

The pilot just stood behind them, his eyes fixed on silly string's mouth, wanting to interject but obviously biting his tongue.

'...and another thing, I don't care if she has a 4 year old, a 2 year old and a 5 month old, she needs to get her butt to work', exclaimed silly string.

The pilot has now taken off his hat, scratching his exposed bald head, placing his hat on the counter.

The librarian is now making a call, taking pauses to cover the receiver with her free hand asking silly string questions inbetween. She has calmed down and now taking sips from a cup of coffee that had been hidden from view. Another Dunkin Donuts cup probably purchased by the pilot.

----------------------------

Travelers are now shuffling in, making their way to the last empty seats in the gate. A short man in a black and gray jacket with the word Porche embroidered across the back has stepped up to the counter to ask a question about the flight.

'I'm sorry sir but this flight is full and the standby list is quite long' the librarian says in a soft but firm voice. Pissed he walks away looking at his blackberry dragging his carry-on roller behind him. He walks over to the wall of flat screens, stops and stands, studying the numbers, trying to break the code to find his way home.

Found while walking in the park...

Wall Street has a California problem...

Great article in the WSJ today found through LA Land.

Peter Viles, a writer for the LA Times and blogger for LA Land, sums it up neatly:

The Journal points out something we all know but sometimes forget: California is different. The bubble was bigger here, the loans were dumber here, the foreclosures are piling up faster here, prices are falling more rapidly here. In short, folks, we are the problem.

Though California represents about 12% of the nation's population, its homes account for 34% of the loans in a typical mortgage-backed security, according to Fitch Ratings. "California doesn't have a Wall Street problem. Wall Street has a California problem," says Christopher Thornberg, principal at Los-Angeles based Beacon Economics and member of the California Controller's Council of Economic Advisors.

If you have a spare moment it is an interesting read, to say the very least.

The ad is complete...