Seriously, the last time was maybe 25 years ago, long before they fenced everything in and made it a felony to do so. I’d scramble up from Mulholland Highway with some snacks and perhaps Pink Floyd or some Dvorak on my walkman, and I’d just chill beneath a 50-foot letter of my choosing, marveling at the spectacular views and working out all sorts of bullshit up there on Mt. Lee.

Led by Park Ranger Ernie Ybarra, the four- to six-mile intermediate hikes are scheduled for November 27 and 28, from 8 – 11 a.m. Meet at the Griffith Park Visitor Center next to the Ranger Station at 4730 Crystal Springs Drive (map).

Additional information: 323/644-6661 x1549; ernie.ybarra@lacity.org

Hallelujah! Rounding the corner from Kings Road onto Melrose I found the truck open for business at the curb and was relieved to take my place in a short queue that tripled in size within mintues of my arrival. Within a few more minutes of ordering and confirming to owner Gigi Pascual that I was indeed the drool-prone cyclist who tweeted (I hope my helmet gave it away and not any excessive salivations), my tastebuds were transported to Awesometown, taken there by their decadent Red Velvet & Chocolate Chips Pancake Bites ($5), and savory Buttermilk Biscuit Breakfast Sammich with applewood smoked bacon and a side patty of rosemary & garlic hashbrowns ($4), pictured at right.

Needless to say, I’ll be back and I highly recommend you check them out.

On the web: Buttermilk Inc.
Twitter: @ButtermilkTruck

LAist’s Emily Lerman royal we’s her enjoyment of  the visually stunning new video titled “The Ride,” inspired by the song “Kings + Queens” from 30 Seconds To Mars. Me, not so much.

The 8.5-minute short (the last 2-plus minutes of which are the credits) centers around a Midnight Ridazz-esque group night ride featuring Jared Leto and his band pedaling along with a purported group of actual Ridazz — I say “purported” because individual close-ups reveal them all to be far too sullenly sans FUN as they journey glumly in the dark across and under the requisite downtown locations such as the 6th Street Bridge, the Second Street tunnel, and Grand Street. Seriously: Why so serious?

But everything’s great eye candy and otherwise going mostly awesome and only threatening to be hugely overwrought and ultra-serious like the song until the video’s director, Bartholomew Cubbins, decides to have a paid-actor/stuntperson get fatally creamed on his bike by a motorist near Pershing Square. Then, while everyone stands dumbly around by the body like powered-down replicants, poor Cubbins couldn’t help but trot out a hornless unicorn galloping in slo-mo up a dark street. Of course, with a visual like that the dead ridah can’t help but awaken refreshed from his unplanned road nap, and  just get up on his undamaged bike to ride away.

After that there’s more of Leto singing, then a critical mass-style “circle of death” at an ironically traffic-less intersection. Then all the still way-too-bummed cyclists start wailing like a giant gruff chorus along with Leto until they magically arrive at the Santa Monica Pier where they disappear. Fade to black.

Your mileage may vary from my curmudgeonly take.

PS. If the embed’s dead up there, here’s the video’s URL:

• http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=100601596

I exited my dentist’s Miracle Mile office not long after 10 a.m. this morning confronted by the absolute beauty of the day — its comfortable crystal clarity prevented me from beelining it on my bike to work. So I took the long way to Westchester. Instead of heading south to Culver City, I cut through Beverly Hills got up onto Santa Monica Boulevard and rolled that thoroughfare all the way to its end where I paused to enjoy the breathtaking views from the palisades before cranking it south along a near-barren beach bikepath to Venice and its pier from which I observed sea lions and dolphins before snapping the above shot of the solitary surfer surveying his vast empire.

Glorious days like this are enough to bring a tear to my eye.

“My name’s Jiggy and I approve this message.”

You can haunt/stalk the refrigerated sections of various grocers and minimarts in crapshoot hopes of finding some still on the shelves or maybe if you’re lucky that one bottle way in the back behind the buttermilk that some covetous bagboy buried there in some vain attempt of it eluding capture.

Or you can find the patience to wait until sometime next month when San Francisco-based Strauss’ reportedly awesome version of the holiday nectar arrives at whichever upscale marts carry it.

My wife Susan and me? We opt to cut out the gambling and the middleman and the interminable waiting for an out-of-town product and instead support our local awesomeness with a cruise out to the industrial flats of Montebello to go get some of the limited-time glass-encased lusciousness.

You should to too:

Broguiere’s Dairy
505 S. Maple Avenue
Montebello, CA 90640

Indeed, biking by this morning I was relieved and pleased to find both swastikas (located between Las Palmas and Hudson)had been excised:

Sure, the end results might not be as cosmetically appealing as one might have wished for, but the patched pavement is certainly a great improvement over what was there before, thanks to Councilman LaBonge and the Department of Public Works.

First up I contacted the Bureau of Street Services (BOSS) and filed an online service request, which included an offer to meet personnel at the scene to point out the swastikas’ locations, as they are easily missed. Five days later when my request had not surprisingly been summarily ignored, I followed-up only to be politely told by a BOSS representative that regardless of the reprehensible symbols being in the actual street, such requests were not under their jurisdiction and that as a courtesy they had forwarded it on to the Department of Public Works’ Office of Community Beautification (OCB). How nice of them.

Not willing to believe that, On October 13 I went to the OCB website and filled out a removal request form, again detailing the nature and location of the two swastikas, and offering to meet workers on-site to show them where they were.

Yesterday, I got the following automated e-mail from OCB:

On behalf of the City of Los Angeles and Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and your city council, thank you for contacting 3-1-1 to report graffiti in your neighborhood.

According to the contractor servicing the area, the graffiti (346217) you have reported on Oct 13, 2009 at W 4TH ST & S JUNE ST was removed on .

Please let us know if there was any problem with the service or if the graffiti reoccurs at this or any other location.

Graffiti abatement requests may also be submitted to OCB at the following website:  www.lacity.org/BPW/OCS/grsr.htm

If you would like to provide any feedback on this request, you may e-mail communitybeautification@lacity.org

Office of Community Beautification
Department of Public Works
200 N. Spring Street, Suite 356
Los Angeles, CA 90012
Phone:  213/978-0228

Despite the email only addressing one of the two swastikas and also failing to list the date the alleged contractor allegedly removed it, I have to say I was half-way impressed… right up until this morning when I biked by and found the hateful thing entirely untouched:

Naturally I’ve both emailed the OCB and left a voicemail message enthusiastically looking for an explanation as to why on behalf of Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa and my city council they would declare a job done that it hadn’t even started. I expect they’ll be in no rush to reply so in the interim I’m going to find out if the Hancock Park Homeowners Association and Councilman Tom LaBonge are interested in ignoring me, too.

Updates of either progress or continuing bureaucratic stagnation to come, as they develop.

— • —

The first grown-up book I ever read cover to cover was “Jonathan Livingston Seagull,” which is about gulls as much as another cherished book of mine, “Watership Down” is about rabbits, but when you’re a snot-nosed 9-year-old kid still moving his lips as he reads Richard Bach’s anthropomorphic allegory was just what a wide-eyed punk needed to ever-romanticize the sea birds. Even to this day as a wide-eyed old dude whenever I see a flock of the feathered fiends I’ll pick one out to be my own personal JLS.

Well one picked me out yesterday while I stopped on my bike ride to work along Ballona Creek at Centinela to feed some old bread destined for the dumpster to the birds there. Except it had a big problem in the form of a nasty three-pronged fishhook embedded in its mouth, which prevented it from enjoing the tasty bread bits, closing its beak… or perhaps even living for much longer:

I go into deathless elaboration on the ensuing rescue mission here, accompanied by some long unedited video clips that I’ve embedded after the jump. But if you’re in need of a little bit of a happyendingness or just want to hear a grown man weep, check ‘em out.

What had been planned as a few morning moments spent feeding bread to the birds of Ballona Creek and capturing a timelapse vid of the chaos, took a heartrending turn when a gull with a three-pronged fishhook embedded in its mouth stepped up and introduced itself.

A bit of frivolous recreation suddenly became a rescue operation, as I figured out a way to catch the bird and got busy trying to remove the hook without doing further damage… while having unwittingly pointed the camera at my crotch for the remaining couple of minutes before the battery died. Thank you battery.

In  this segment of the aftermath there’s no CrotchCam to apologize for, but I must say sorry for getting a bit blubbery over the unexpected success and relief I had in removing the hook from the poor bird and basically saving its life.

Once all 10 are up it will reportedly be the world’s longest length of the wall outside of Berlin, and it’s available for viewing through November 14.

Flickr photoset is here.

Long back being a civilian theatergoer I just don’t see many shows nowadays. To get me into a seat it’s gotta be something compelling — especially when it comes to musicals, the last major one I saw being “Mamma Mia!” and that’s pretty much why. The genre has just become too much wafer-thin glitz. Sure production values are high and the talent is strong and the entertainment is there, but it all just seems to be less and less about pushing the artform’s boundaries and instead more and more about giving the people what they want.

By its ironically cheery title alone “Parade,”  now playing at the Mark Taper Forum through November 15, might sound like it is, but it is not what the people want. And by that I mean those masses who get excited by news of  “Footloose: The Musical” coming to town.

Because it’s dark — no I mean really. Based on the unconscionable tragedy of Leo Frank, “Parade” promenades  past the audience, taking it on a descent into a particularly evil episode in this country’s history — and it does so with song. And dance.

At all times “Parade” is an inspired and committed production rich with talent whose every aspect is flawlessly executed. But at turns it is chilling, shocking, harrowing, horrifying, and always unrepentant and unapologetic in its telling of such a perfect storm of  injustice.

Given that  several patrons didn’t return to their seats after the intermission, clearly it was repelling to some who were perhaps expecting a far more frivolous and forgettable evening. But for me it is some of the bravest and most riveting and important theater I have ever had the privilege to see.