Have you heard? California is broke. Its cities fall into bankruptcy one by one. Its growing pension liabilities threaten to sink us into the cold black pacific ocean. And so the California Legislature has bravely decided to take the bull by the horns and…

No, that’s not quite right. But they’re at least holding the line by… wait, what?

Assembly Bill 2451, which passed with overwhelming bipartisan (is this a twilight zone episode?) support in the legislature, awaits its final vote in the State Senate.

The bill would, in all seriousness, fork over hundreds of thousands of dollars to the surviving relatives of public employees who die of natural causes.

I swear I’m not making this up.

Let’s say a firefighter, policeman or prison guard dies from a heart attack. As the law stands now, if he’s still employed, his surviving family is entitled to compensation. The statute of limitation is 4 and 1/2 years– so if he dies of a heart attack 4 years after retiring, his family still gets the money. AB 2451 would remove the statute of limitations– i.e., the cop or firefighter dies of a heart attack or cancer at age 95, the state will still pay out like a slot machine– we’re talking $250,000 to $300,000.

Nary a mention of any of this, by the, by, in the LA Times. Here’s the Sac Bee’s editorial:

Its practical effect is to give every police officer, every firefighter, every prison guard or park ranger a taxpayer-funded life insurance policy. To pay for that extraordinary benefit, services will have to be cut. In some jurisdictions, even police and firefighters could be laid off to pay for it.

In a year in which three California cities have already filed for bankruptcy protection and more are at risk of insolvency, when the governor is begging voters to approve a tax increase and seriously contemplating cutting the school year, this bill represents a gross overreach by the state’s most powerful unions.

This is happening because:

a) California lawmakers don’t care how much things cost years from now, long after they’re termed out

b) California lawmakers are completely in the pocket of public employee unions, who rule this state like a workers’ Soviet

c) California lawmakers just aren’t really paying attention most of the time, are not very good at their jobs

d) All of the above

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to cry.

LA Or Bhopal: Wilshire Boulevard

Curbed reports that Wilshire Boulevard is in such bad shape, the city is going to have to repave it twice.

First it will spend $800,00 just to repave the right lane from Wilton to Fairfax. Then once they have that looking post-war (and not post – apocolyptic), next year, they’ll spend $30 million to repave the whole thing and add a bus line.


This is a good moment, therefore, to inaugurate our series, LA or Bhopal?  Be sure to include an address. But please! Be careful out there. Some of those craters go down pretty deep.

Bonus episode after the jump.

OK, let’s play… LA or Bhopal?

If you guessed LA… then you’re right! Dave Z. spotted this one on the 100 block of West Cesar Chavez.

Be careful Dave!

Raunchy Details Emerge From Ramon Cortines Lawsuit

The Courthouse News Service has all the raunchy details emerging from the Ramon Cortines “sexual battery” lawsuit. Former LAUSD employee Scot Graham makes the following accusations, according to the lawsuit:

  • Days after hiring him, Cortines tried to grab Graham’s penis, then proposed the two of them go to Cortines’ office to have sex.
  • Years later, after Cortines had become Superintendent, he invited Graham to a getaway at Cortines’ ranch, where he once again attempted to grab and grope Graham, and tried to kiss him on the mouth.
  • That night, Cortines entered Graham’s room, naked as a jaybird, his penis erect. He got into Graham’s bed and started masturbating. He then grabbed Graham’s penis and stated, “you’re not getting hard.”


But perhaps more shocking is the coverup.

Graham says he told higher ups about the incidents but they were never investigated due to LAUSD’s ”culture of sexual abuse, stealth and secrecy.” From CNS:

He says he reported the incidents to his supervisors and to the district’s general counsel, David Holmquist, but no action was taken.
Holmquist, a nonparty, told him to “‘forget’ about the incident with Cortines,” Graham says.
“What is the point of ruining a man’s career … what are you going to accomplish by complaining?” Holmquist allegedly asked.

Who else was protecting Cortines?

“It appeared that Cortines had an inner circle of individuals whom he had appointed to positions of authority in order to insulate himself from the consequences of his sexual exploits,” Graham claims.

Shock Study Reveals 4 out of 5 So Cal 20′somethings Live on their Own

The extent to which the region now stands on the precipice was brought into stark relief by a study noted in the Times today stating that a full 80 percent of area 20′somethings live without parental supervision.

The Times reported:

Nearly 1 in 3 25- to 29-year-olds in Southern California lived at home at some point between 2007 and 2009, according to the report released Wednesday by Ohio State sociologist Zhenchao Qian. That compares to 19% for that age group nationwide.

Young people across the country, especially those just entering the workforce, were hit hard by the recession, which ended officially in 2009 but whose painful effects still linger.

Qian’s research, based on an analysis of census data, shows that the trend of young adults staying with their parents occurred across the U.S. but was strongest in large metropolitan where high living costs and high unemployment came as a double whammy. The top 10 metropolitan areas on his ranking included New York, Miami, Honolulu and El Paso.

We can only presume that Health Department officials are springing into action to deal with the potential for a toxic meltdown  from the critical mass of millions of unwashed dishes in such a concentrated area.


Not addressed in the article, but in need of follow-up, the questions of, without parental supervision for these at risk millennials:

  • How are they notified at regular intervals of the need to change their socks and/or underwear – averting another public health nightmare?
  • Who is on hand to remind them that they are special and that the rest of the world needs to treat them much better or they are going to be hearing from us?  Does the area have even a fraction of the counselors available to deal with a self-esteem crisis of epic proportions of these young people are cut off from their reassurance mechanisms?
  • Living away from their ancestral residences, the 20′something if not properly supplied are cut off from their caches of now-ironic t-shirts, sweatshirts and sneakers from their 5th to 8th grade years.  Deprived of these resources, many millennials might be forced to don grown-up clothes, thereby setting off a region-wide mass identity crisis the consequence of which we can only begin to forsee.

The study however, does provide some reassurance in the news that 1 out of 5 20′somethings are indeed accounted for under their parents roof,  providing the basis to repopulate the species should a mass die-off occur among the underparented.

A Field Guide to Snoop Dogg’s Transformation into Snoop Lion

In a deeply unsettling change certain to bring shockwaves to the region, iconic Long Beach rapper Snoop Dogg has announced that he’s morphed into a lion. To be specific, he morphed into Snoop Lion, which shouldn’t be mistaken with Snoop Snow Leopard, or Snoop Panther, or Snoop Jaguar or any other rap operating system you can buy for your Mac.

To celebrate his new incarnation, he’ll release a reggae album and a documentary film about his travels to Jamaica, where he was reborn as a bad-ass jungle cat. Enthralled by a newfound interest in Rastafarianism, Snoop was christened as Snoop Lion by a Nyabingi priest.

The move has enormous implications not only on Mr. Lion’s career, but on the rap citizenry of our area, whose leader he was.  The potential for our streets long accustomed to Dog culture to suddenly be in thrall of giant cat culture is huge and ominous.


In light of such a radical shift, questions abound, the kind of questions you’d typically ask of your pastor, rabbi or hot yoga teacher. Instead you only have Native Angeleno to guide you through.

We understand how alarming it can be when a local celebrity shifts his identity without at least displaying erratic behavior on a late-night TV show first, so we’ve put together this FAQ that addresses the common questions about Snoop’s transformation.

How does this happen?

Sometimes after a rapper has been a Dogg for a long, long time, he gets very tired and wants to be something else. Often times, that rapper wants to be the very opposite of what he was. Everyone knows the opposite of a dog is a cat but for whatever reason, Snoop skipped right over Snoop Pussy and went to Snoop Lion. We don’t know what is wrong with him. We can only assume ING Group dangled a sweet endorsement deal.

Will Snoop Lion still smoke pot?

Um, does Drake drunk-dial his exes?

What does it mean to our souls?

Dude, we do not know. But we’re pretty sure a Lion can not, physically or spiritually, chill in the same way a Dogg can. Have you ever seen how blissed out a dog can get laying in the sun? Lions chill out too but usually with their mouths coated in zebra blood which is bad-ass but kind of disturbing.


Were you there when Snoop changed into a Lion?

Yes, we were. We were all just stone-cold chillin’ when a bright light shot through an open window and – wait, no. We were not there. We’ve been barred entry from Jamaica.

Does the world need another reggae album?

Absolutely not.

On the Wonderful Weirdness of Being a Woman Alone at Dodger Stadium

A couple of weeks ago, due to some strange circumstances, I found myself alone at Dodger Stadium.  Now, this circumstance has always been one of my greatest fears.   All my life I’ve gone to Dodger games and seen the guy across the aisle, all alone with his headphones, popping beach balls like it was his job.

Anyway, having recently gone through some STUFF, I decided to invite two people to join me whom I knew would not be able to go, one of which is my bff of 16 years, while the other is my (still) newest friend.


When they both, predictably, couldn’t go, I realized what my ulterior motive had been, and that I was, in fact curious about what would happen to me if I dared sit at a Dodgers game alone.  So I did the unthinkable and went solo.

The first thing to know about being a young lady at a sporting event is that people will talk to you.  All the people will talk to you. All the time. Even if you are clearly there with someone.

I pride myself on how unapproachably rude I can seem, but this does not apply when you are sitting butt to butt with someone, be it a bored and uninterested in sports wife or husband, or a scout for the Red Sox.

But now, on to the most importantly weird parts of attending a baseball game on your own:

  1. It’s hard to pee: the best reason I can give you for going anywhere with anyone is that they can watch your stuff while you slip off to peetown or purchasing beers from beertown.
  2. So I had two seats.  I was hell bent on making use of them, if only for my bag to have a nice home.  However, once the lady next to my bag’s comfy seat grew wise, she was hell bent on taking some space for herself.  She didn’t pay for that seat, so I did not allow for even the slightest, falsely casual sweater placement.  Manifest destiny has no place in box seats.
  3. Did I mention that EVERYONE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU?  My intentions were questioned many times. People wanted to know if I’d been stood up.  People wanted to know if I was dating one of the players.  The 6 year old sitting behind me wanted to know about everything ever but mostly was curious about the impending fireworks.  And no one believed that I was there because I actually enjoy the sport. I was vaguely familiar with this terrible phenomenon having previously arrived a few minutes before my game’s companion, but boy oh boy, nine whole innings changes shit.  But really, the main reason people want to talk to you is that they doubt your sports fandom because of your lady-ness.  It’s actually the worst from people who are just there out of obligation, because they have the most time to kill.
  4. And then there were the fireworks.  That was the only time I truly felt weird because they have never been very interesting to me and it seems like a thing that is improved by shared experience. But hey, my anti-fireworks attitude worked out brilliantly because I got out of that parking lot SO FAST because everyone else was so busy staring at the sky.  Though I do love John Philip Sousa.

All in all, it was one of the best nights of my life.

The Natives Are Restless

So we were sitting around the other day in the Native Angeleno bunker when someone plopped a question down on our Formica: who was it that broke the back of the camel of our once great city?

After all, we are not slumming visitors from the East come to turn our nose up at rabble out West.  Los Angeles is the only home we have ever known and we will live and die in this city. But because we love it, it is our duty to report that the camel’s back was broken or at least suffering from some kind of fracture.

The media who were too absorbed with their own demise to notice?  The entertainment industry who ran their business in a manner that made Wall Street blush with envy (All the while playing our big cool friend in jeans)?  The intellectual and artistic communities, who were determined to make the culture of Los Angeles as remote and hostile to the general public as they possibly could?  Our young people who turned their back on everything but tributes to their own preciousness?  Our absentee business community?


Was it Angelyne? Antonio? David Geffen? Nikki Finke?  Ludo? The LA Times? Colonel Mustard in The Smell with a guava cerviche?

We hashed the question out and three hours, a few broken bones, many hurt feelings, two shattered egos and a divorce or two later, we realized that with a line-up of suspects like this, we might never know who killed LA, but, we also realized that there was work to be done.

We know the rules. A website about Los Angeles is supposed to be about the search for the cutest artisanal tamale stand made of sustainable vegan bamboo. Or it can be a website devoted to kissing up to talent agents, deputy editors, chefs, curators, hoteliers and dead buildings.

This is not one of those.

We come to point fingers and poke eyes, to name names and call names and dig up dirt.


Confidentiality protected from pain of death.  Bring us your memos, your horror stories, your daily nightmares. We want to share.   The Truth will find its way to the light of day after all. Fill out the form given on Contact Page.

Unlike the rest of you, Native Angeleno has no home to go back to. When this city falls into the Ocean, we fall with it.   Until then, happy reading.

City Council: Everybody Must Not Get Stoned

The City Council, after a genuine, real, honest to god debate, voted 13-1 to ban all pan shops in Los Angeles. And by 13-1, we mean 14-0, since Paul Koretz changed his vote retroactively (this is not a Mitt Romney joke) by going up to the city clerk later.

And so it is that, 16 years after California voted to legalize medical marijuana, the city council for the largest city in the state, after failing to construct a coherent policy for each of those 16 years, simply voted to rip the whole thing up and go back to prohibition.

So within 45 days (or 30, or 90– everyone reports a different number) the 762 (or 1,000, or however many– no one really knows!) dispensaries will forced to shut their doors or face the wrath of LAPD.


Dave Z. also notes that marijuana advocates are donating money to reelect Rosendahl and Councilman Paul Koretz– which odd, since neither of them actually voted against the measure to ban dispensaries. Koretz voted no at first but then retroactively changed his vote. Rosendahl, meanwhile, was a no show.

His deputy told reporters that Rosendahl hurt his back– a suspiciously convenient excuse in an elected body that votes unanimously 99.2% of the time, where councilmen routinely make up fake excuses so as not to be the odd man out.

Recently an incident happened after people were too stoned.

A 21-year-old man and his brother, 15, were critically injured after crashing during a motorcycle chase from Riverside to Moreno Valley, while carrying a backpack full of marijuana.


Police tried to stop the motorcycle for driving without a license plate about 2:15 a.m. near Chicago Avenue and Third Street when the rider sped away, police said.

The motorcycle led police on a chase topping 90 mph heading south down Interstate 215 toward Moreno Valley. The rider exited at Alessandro Boulevard and motioned like he might reenter the freeway toward Perris before he crashed.