Tony The Barber

     I got a haircut. I'd let my hair grow long on account of a bald spot that showed up on the side of my head. I have a condition called alopecia areata. That's when your hair falls out in spots temporarily. Mine fell out in a huge patch, the size of a baseball on the side of my head. My hair's slowly growing back, but not enough to warrant a short haircut. 
     So I took a chance in getting a haircut in the first place. I go to an old-timer named Tony. Tony's been cutting hair for sixty years. It's amazing he can still stand. 
     I showed Tony my bald patch, and told him I wanted my hair to cover it so don't cut it too short. What I've learned about Tony and just about every other barber I've been to, is that they're always agreeable, but never do what you ask. 
     I sat in the chair and Tony proceeded to brag about his hair cutting abilities and how great his business was doing. Then he told me a couple vengeful barber stories where he put customers in their place for questioning his abilities. I was entertained by his stories. they made me laugh. And Tony is a gentleman with good manners. I like him.
     I noticed my hair flying in big chunks. Tony was using scissors that squeaked. I had complete confidence in him, even though the task was not simple. Long hair to short hair, with enough hair to cover the spot. 
    At the end of it Tony brought out a mirror. He held the mirror up and proudly showed off his work. My eyes popped out of my head when I saw what he'd done to me. He had my hair combed to one side, like Ann Rand and there were flaps of hair sticking straight out just behind my ears. The side with the bald patch was longer than the other side. All and all I was pretty disappointed with Tony's work. I didn't offer any compliments. 
     How much do I owe you? I asked
     Tony recoiled with the question. He was obviously butt-hurt about it. I couldn't help that I didn't like the cut. He messed me up.  
     I had to ask my lady-friend to fix it for me. She doesn't cut hair, but she did a good job. It looks a lot better.

Dedicated Tax System

     I think we should have a dedicated tax system where citizens can choose where their taxes go. There could be different categories. Military, health care, infrastructure, general services, national parks, etc. There would be no more than ten categories to keep it simple, and perhaps to keep the military from crying, they'd get an automatic one percent from each paycheck. I haven't worked out the numbers and I'm not sure what percentage the military is getting now, so one percent might be low or high. I'm not sure. I'm just making the general point of The Dedicated Tax System.
     This idea, in principle, eliminates or reduces the possibility of cronyism and the abuse of power by politicians and corporations. And keeps the treasury out of reach of thieves and self interested people. 
      The public can change the distribution of their money when the file their taxes. 

Gardeners

     There are thousands of Latino gardeners in Los Angeles. They come from different countries, Mexico, Mesoamerica. Most come to this country with just the shirt on their backs. They've carved out an occupation for themselves. And best I can tell, they're extremely hard workers. It's rare that a gardener calls in sick to work. At least in my neighborhood. Three of my neighbors have gardeners. The gardeners show up on Monday, Wednesday and Friday at about eight-thirty in the morning. The sound of their leaf-blowers lets me know that they're here.
     Latino gardeners work for the wealthy in Bel Air and Beverly Hills, and the not so well-off in the suburbs. If you hire a gardener in Los Angeles, there's a fair chance he's going to be Latino. 
     Unless of course you're the Los Angeles Dodgers. Their gardeners are white. They don't call themselves gardeners either. They call themselves the "ground crew." And as gardening jobs go, it's probably one of the best gigs in town.   
       

Discoveries

     I've lived in Los Angeles for the better part of my life and I'm still discovering things about it. I don't want to reveal the locations of my favorite spots. I'll just say that there's a lot to explore in them there hills. 
     Recently I've found a pristine tree-lined creek with pools and some hiking trails that I've driven past on many occasions. 
     Usually if I see a parking lot with people I'll drive past it. It's not that I don't like people, it's just that I don't like to follow the crowd. 
     For years I've driven past this one spot. There's a parking lot, picnic tables, and lots of signs. There's even an official visiting center. So needless to say, I'd skip it, 
     Well, the other day I was driving up the mountain when I realized the gas gauge was showing a little low. I forgot to check it before I left the city. I wasn't sure I had enough gas to get to where I wanted to go. I drove a ways and decided to turn around to play it safe. That's when I saw the parking lot. I was thinking it was just a good place to turn around, but I parked the car to do some exploring. Well what do you know? A hiking trail. No wonder people stopped here. 
    It was a beautiful trail. It had been there for a long time. I'm going to go back during the week to hike it without the crowds. 

Saint Frank

     I spent the weekend in San Francisco. I met my half brother Gary's family for the first time. It was an awesome experience. Great, great, people. Now I know where I get my bad side from. I've always wondered. Not that they're bad in any way, but they like to have fun, so the wine was flowing, and that rarely happens on the Bernal side of the family. 
     I also got the chance to walk around the city and check out my old hang-outs. I walked mostly in North Beach and Chinatown. It's changed some. The trees are taller and many of the businesses have changed hands. I ate at one of my favorite Chinese restaurants. It wasn't as good. It used to be a tiny place with just a counter, but they've expanded it and now it's a restaurant with tables and chairs. It was good, but it wasn't as good. If that makes any sense. 
     I still like San Francisco and if I ever make any money I'd like to live there again for a short spell. It doesn't make sense to live there long term. The idea of giving large amounts of money to landlords is bullshit. I'd rather not do that. I think there should be a rebellion against landlords. Life is harder than it needs to be with high rents. 

Tiny Microscopic Structures

     I got the itch. Jock itch. The interesting thing about "the itch" is the brilliance of the fungus. I read that the more you scratch, the more it spreads. 
     I bought some anti-fungal cream. The itch subsided. And I went about my business. A day later it started to itch again even with the cream. It dawned on me that the fungus was trying to manipulate me into scratching the area again, so it could spread and survive. Genius. 
     How the fungus knows to do this is amazing to me. Maybe it doesn't know, and it's coincidence, but I doubt it. 
     The fungus has developed a method to manipulate the human mind. And it uses the smallest form of pain to do it. The itch. Simply amazing. The intelligence of tiny structures can not be understated. When planet earth gets tired of us humans I get the feeling it won't be a big calamity like a nuclear bomb or a volcano that kills us, but rather tiny microscopic structures. The invisible will figure out a way to eat us alive.                                                                                                  

Los Angeles

     I spent the day at the beach yesterday. Pristine sand. Waves. Perfect day. The beach is one of many reasons why I live in Los Angeles. 
     I have a friend who recently moved to Denver. I've never been to Denver. I'm sure it's nice, but there aren't any beaches in Denver. 
     I have another friend who moved to Portland. I've been to Portland, great town, but there aren't any beaches there either. River beaches don't count.
     People love to dog LA. We're like Cleveland that way. But I'm not moving. No way, no how. 
     New York? Zero chance. Paris? Maybe. Chicago looks nice, but for the winters. I've always wanted to live in Pittsburgh for a winter, or Detroit. Detroit interests me, with all the rundown houses. You can probably pick up a nice house for a decent price there. I'd like to restore an old abandoned dream house, and bring it halfway back. 
     Those cities are getaway destinations in my mind. Not longterm solutions for living. No, I'm not leaving LA. What for? 
     I'm not too good for LA, and LA has been bery, bery good to me.