Obscure As Fuck

Reasons why your existence “is the worst place ever”.

IN RESPONSE TO: http://www.vice.com/read/reasons-why-los-angeles-is-the-worst-place-ever

Dear Jamie Lee Curtis Taete

I’ve lived in LA and the surrounding cities for 31 years. Maybe I’m just desensitized to the point of near-complete obliviousness, but I haven’t seen or heard about any of this shit. I had actually forgotten that David Spade even existed and I SUPER-don’t appreciate you reminding me about some ill-relevant fucktard from Michigan whose masterwork was a movie about a southerny white trash transplant who garnered the adoration of LA because he told a story over the radio. Is that what you thought would happen to you when you got here? That you’d type some shit, snap some shots and “a-get the whole city a-buzzin”? Sorry about that, Capt. Boring-story. Stick to taking pictures of hipster’s faces and bags of goldfish.


And oh yeah, I think I saw one of those Tsunami signs once - I was doing lines of cocaine off it while my friends and I were listening to Gun Club and raging on the beach. Pilates? The last bit of exercise I got involved getting into a barfight while I was on tripping hard-as-fuck on LSD. The Food?  Whatever, dude. No natives here notice places like that, which I guess is why you even knew Diablo’s existed.


Do you really think Los Angeles is the ONLY place drowning in shattered aspirations? This whole grand experiment called “western civilization” is a dream deferred in and of itself! Where have you been the last two decades? Oh right. The United Kingdom… where you pussies were no help during WWII and your culture lost its balls when Creation Records folded. Guess that explains why forest fires and mountain lions and tsunamis scare you. The only thing the realest of the real LA natives are afraid of are the LAPD. And even then, the skaters will still get together with East LA punks and stir up shit. Are you seeing a pattern here? All you know about is “the LA Weekly version” of this place and no one that lives here (and I mean: living to the last drop, utterly alive, with all of their heart) has anything to do with that paltry crap.


You know the worst thing about this “article”? Is that I’m 100% certain it’s just another attempt at trolling designed to get more hits on Vice’s cluttered-ass website. The whole “this city vs that city” debate is literally what they build big yawns out of. Parents bemoan New York to get their ADHD afflicted brats to beddy-bye. I should know better than to even bother with a reply and I still don’t care. Sometimes a dude spots a vapid fuck uttering something retarded using his pedestrian literary ability and he’s compelled to respond. Sometimes a dude looks at a desert and goes: “Whatever, maaannn. Look at dat beach doe” and builds a mega-city.


Oh, and don’t worry, we all know that 10.5 earthquake is coming but, meh: FIDLAR. All I can hope is that when it hits I’m buzzed on good beer, on a golden day stoned on kush, balls deep, having rough sex with a smart bitch in a thrift store sun-dress and leather jacket while “Walking on the Dune” by the Make-Up is playing the background. Because, really…it’s not about where you’re at. It’s about what you can do with what you’ve got. And when the rubble starts cracking my skull, I’ll be grateful knowing that I got to be alive during one of the most crazy times, with my awesome friends, living in one of the most beautiful places on the planet. After all, I’m black. I could’ve ended up in Africa during apartheid or some shit.


Look at it like this: You moved away from your home to be here and you still can’t find happiness.


Ever consider that “the worst place ever”… is being you?

  • 28 November 2012
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