Trump tribes gathered on Sunday, in deep-blue Los Angeles, for a road rally down the 405. Lots of honking, lots of flags, lots of “Y.M.C.A”. Note to grad students: there is a cultural anthroplogy dissertation waiting to be written about the Trump/Village People convergence.
Good turnout. Perhaps the Valley is more conservative than I think. The parade went on for a good ten minutes. No counter-protest.
There are two forms of persuasion in the militant vegan arsenal: Behold The Horror, and Wouldn’t You Rather Be Pretty? If I didn’t already know this cause I married one, both were in abundant evidence at the VegFest at Woodley Park Sunday, which I was dragged to attended willingly! Let’s gets started:
The star attraction: Freelee the Banana Girl and her amazing torso, all the way from Australia, posing with star struck teenaged girls. She claims to eat 30 bananas day, and posts YouTube videos where she frets about becoming too skinny. She also denies any use of supplements. Cocaine, for example. Or Marlboros, or liposuction. Plant-based gains! Everybody suck it! Consider not Occam’s Razor. Enjoy the view. I have no reason not to be persuaded.
My associations of cricket are with films set in British boarding schools. Colin Firth and Rupert Everett, argyle sweaters and foppish hair. Here in the Valley it is played avidly, and almost exclusively, by people of Indian and Pakistani lineage. So, in a manner of speaking we can still say the sun never sets on the former British Empire. I confess after watching for an hour I understood the game even less than I thought I did.