Here in our east side hood, a winter romp in LA’s newest park, Ascot Hills. Very nice. These are the empty graceful hills that we look out upon from our living room. Across the valley is an ever-bucolia, and it will stay thus, as these last hills of open space are now protected forever from development by a City that knows is parks’ worth. 

This seems so Old LA to me, crime ridden; someone dead, wrapped in a carpet, to be carried out by men in white coveralls. A Confidential type wink; Mr. Rooter as The Cleaner.