The White Favela messenger service at work.
Our civic solution for the people living in the shrubbery along the 405 and panhandling at the Roscoe Blvd offramp is to mis-hear Joni Mitchell, cut down the shrubbery, and put up a chainlink fence.
So far, so good.
Chainlink is always the answer. It means we did something.
For now, the favela-ians are back on the railroad tracks, and conducting through-the-fence panhandling excursions by handwritten notes. I give it a week.
Don’t you want to meet Sandman? I wonder how he got his moniker. I hope it wasn’t this way.