The wacky tales are born everyday.

There was Propero’s ether mask suiside found by burgelers a few weeks into decomposition after his mis-fired auto-erotic Popular Mechanics experiment in the garage.

There was the screaming wife on the lamb and on the heroin and the claims of coming to LA for TB to jilt her husband and have a thing with the young Handsome Bill who didn’t like being eventually jilted himself so he gave her the brick and the silk dress tie up of the neck as she screamed and the stenographer and her mother downstais who heard the screams and then the thump of the Murphy Bed closing….

“I am like the State, what’s good for me is good for all.” – The Fox

Ayn Rand had a sparkle for him on Death Row when she was but a lass.

“Ha ha, you’ll all be killed if you come with me,” said the wacky octagenarian uncle. The young neices all laughed. He whipped out the owners manual from the glove box and pretended to read in an effort to emphasize the joke. The street car piled right into them. Miss those great pre-freeway LA haydays.

The others had robbed the bank and grabbed Ms. Row as a human sheild as they robbed the bank. The cops particularly didn’t appreciate that. They followed the robbers and killed them nearby.

Some of us are blogging, some webcasting – see www.talkshow247.com – there’s singing by ukelele, and stories of gore and sills of 1920′s hootch, Cadillac repo’s gone wrong, Dahlia dumps, unhappy Parisian cosette breast augmentation skin rejuvinators turning on the gas, and general Darwin Award type partings from this coil. And through it all, a lone rider in a private dick hat pulled low is taking copious notes.

Kicking off with Marvin Gaye’s house where his father did him in. A Fundamentalist vodka lover and a misogynistic sex addict, who collected guns and had gifted an unmarked Saturday Night Special to his father… You get the idea. They didn’t get along and were known to quarrel and grapple. Then daddy brought the gun upstairs, knocked on the bedroom door, and put it to Marvin’s chest. All his millions had gone up his nose and now the bullet went into his lungs.

Here’s how we spent Inauguration Day 2009. First, with Mimosas in hand webcasting live at Marc Horowitz’ www.talkshow247.com up on Victorian Carol Street and then into the gentility of The Canyon with Ari and Petro for coffee and DVR’ing the speech. Everything about this inauguration is so Now! I jumped up in front of the wide screen as the Obama’s and Bush’s stood shoulder to shoulder and I pointed out, “See here, these people are younger than Sting!”

A woman in her element, anywhere she may happen to be. That is the mark of true beauty. And, boy!, is she a solid true beauty.

In her dressing room she wonders, “Our summery Winter must come round again, mustn’t it?”

We’ve gone in for the his & hers roadsters, and a new babysitter. This is how we do it in Cali.

Thence January really begins…