I’ve got all my life to live I’ve got all my love to give – I WILL SURVIVE!

Monday
night I was driving down to Commerce from the little house Ruth and I have
rented for the month. Our house is in Silver Lake and we love it. Our car is
a sweet little two-seater Mini-Cooper convertible and we love that too. Well, I
love it. Ruth still sometimes has these “hair issues” when I insist on putting
the top down all the time. Funny, dontcha think, that the only people with “hair
issues” are people with “hair”?

Anyway, we
still argue about that sometimes, but mostly we haven’t while we’ve been here
in LA, because really what the fuck is there to argue about here in LA? I mean seriously,
as long as it’s sunny and warm, why argue about anything? At 24 degrees
centigrade I could care less about her annoying habits. I think she feels the
same way about (what she erroneously claims are) my annoying habits.

So, I was
listening to the radio in the car, which is something that Ruth and I have
rarely done since we’ve been here. Mostly we listen to the mellifluous voice of
our GPS lady, who we love. We love everything and everyone in LA – except one
lady who was indifferent to Ruth in a blouse store. Also, we can’t figure out
the radio. My kids would be rolling their eyes right now, if they ever read my
blog, which thankfully I don’t think they do.

Because I
can’t figure out the radio, I was tuned to a bombastic political rant defending
Mitch McConnell’s veneration of Donald Trump on what had to be FOX radio. I heard
it the whole way down to Commerce. But I wasn’t really listening. I was
thinking about Mitch “I would bury a body for Donald Trump if he asked me” McConnell
and how it’s difficult for me to imagine that in the history of the world a more
ineffectual human has ever had more global influence than the waste of space we
call Mitch McConnell.

And that
led me to thinking about who, if the situation arose, would bury a body for me.
Would and could, I should add, because let’s face it, my group of most-trusted
friends and relatives aren’t getting any younger. 

Then they started talking about Kobe, and there was the whole we shouldn’t deify a guy
who is an alleged rapist debate. 

Here’s what I think. I think if you have a
problem with Kobe today, it’s too soon and it’s too late at the same time. 

Assuming you know for an absolute fact that Kobe raped, either because you were
in the room, under the bed when the alleged deed was done, or because you’ve
read every single unbiased, impartial word ever written on the subject, well then, for my money, you
should have spoken up on Saturday, not Sunday.

I have
nothing but disdain for any man or woman who abuses, degrades, demeans, or assaults
(sexually or otherwise) another individual. There are a whole lot
of douchebaggy assailants out there right now walking the streets, unpunished for their
crimes. Or not punished enough. For today and tomorrow and the next day can we at least focus on some other assjacket* who didn’t die with his 13 year-old daughter and 7
other people in a helicopter crash? Is that too much to ask?

Let’s talk
about poker. I went into a Survival Tournament at Commerce. 116 players, $400
entry. You play down to 11 players and then… it’s over. Just like that. Whoever
is left gets $2500. It’s a common enough arrangement, I’ve just never played in
that kind of tournament before.

It’s an
adjustment, for sure. It’s kind of like you’re playing badminton, but instead
of a racquet you’re using a chicken leg, and instead of a birdie, you use nickels.
But if you’re a solid player, you quickly modify your game to suit the format.
It’s all in the wrist action.

Anyway, I
was one of the lucky eleven. I survived.

I won the $2500! 

You also
get a $100 bounty for every player you take out of the tournament, and I picked
up three of those along the way.

So, a tidy
$2800 prize. Not a terrible night’s work.

Here’s a picture of my baby…

* Kelly McCormack gave me that word