//Written By Adam Hauck

Short Music Documentary

By adam || October 26, 2009

M moves into my house, which I was able to purchase thanks to the same questionable lending practices that have so embroiled the nation in our current economic crisis. Thank goodness for crooked bankers.

The following is the diary of the adventures of M and myself. We live in an officially designated “walkable neighborhood” through which we nevertheless drive. We cook a lot. We entertain our non-single friends at civilized gatherings involving barbecued foods. We attend age-appropriate social events. At a recent art opening featuring some particularly awful paintings, we sampled a Cow Basque cheese, which in spite of pressing events on the world stage, caused us to spend an inappropriate sum of time marveling at the deliciousness of that cheese. I am amused to imagine a younger me and how little I anticipated any of the above. If I’d been more on the ball, I would have taken a cooking class.

May 23, 2009

M moves into my house, which I was able to purchase thanks to the same questionable lending practices that have so embroiled our nation in the current economic crisis. Thank goodness for crooked bankers. We need the extra space in the yard to plant some vegetables.

May 27, 2009

Around the corner is a store called “The Little Knittery”. Over the past two years I’ve taken some joy in making the snarky observation that hipsters must live in your neighborhood when there’s a place there called “The Little Knittery”. This sterling observation may have been funnier when I still felt as if I was one of said hipsters, even just a little bit. Today it occurs to me that I might be a cooler person if I had cause to purchase yarn.

June 2, 2009

With M’s arrival also came a treadmill which I placed at the rear of the garage thinking that would be the end of that. Impossibly, I decide to begin running. In doing this, I set aside the last two decades of sedentary existence, during which time I managed to avoid joining the statistical marvel that is the obesity epidemic thanks only to a very dedicated metabolism. Soon I will be thin and fit, or so I will be told. More accurately, I will soon consider a visit to the jogging store where I will spend $170 on shoes which I will never allow myself to wear out in public.

June 4, 2009

We plant a vegetable garden and unknowingly join a cult of vegetable growing people. Now at least if I die wearing tennis shoes and a cape, it’ll be from something I grew. Like a squash gone horribly wrong. Note: avoid capes.

June 8, 2009

I have now added dorky running shorts with built-in underwear to my exercise ensemble. This slope is considerably more slippery than the warning labels would have you believe.

June 11, 2009

As the landscaping efforts in the yard approach the finish line, M is consumed with trying to find an appropriate spot to install a hammock. This makes her both adorable, and a little manic. Note: Before anyone suggests as much, I should add that I find those free-standing hammocks unsightly and generally objectionable.

June 15, 2009

Proudly sent pictures of our completed backyard landscaping endeavors and brimming vegetable garden to some of the family. My grandmother answers back with the following missive: “Hi! I’m green with envy and proud of you for having your own garden – and then to make sausage risotto with a home-grown zucchini. We called it a Victory Garden during WW2 and I remember New Zealand spinach – lots of Vitamin C. The chickens all got some horrible looking bag dragging behind them and eventually Beeps [my grandfather] had to drown them by holding their heads under water in a bucket.”

June 18, 2009

Have harvested one zucchini per day for last four days. Quickly running out of uses for zucchini. Will soon try: nap pillow, nerf substitute for in-home-football-related-chicanery, fuel source for futuristic zucchini powered car (note: invent that car, it sounds awesome), hair tonic and/or nasal decongestant, erotic accessory for dog (note: get dog).

June 19, 2009

M’s mother coming to visit tomorrow. I would be wise to conclude that this strange feeling of pride I feel from being so “adult” that my future mother-in-law would deign a visit, is a sure sign that I am still a child. Also, that I would refer to M’s mother using the above descriptor, is an indicator that M’s efforts to get me thinking about marriage have been hauntingly successful. She is wily.

June 20, 2009

Saturday night. 11pm. Drunk. It was the second bourbon that did it. M and I are in a bar full of people with whom I share an affinity, but who, in point of fact, would not say the same about me. Our topic? I have one year before we need to start having unprotected sex. My internal 20-year-old hears this and leaps with joy even while reminding himself that unprotected sex is “not cool man”. My modern, drunker self in the present tense, knows that there’s no way this means anything other than babies. Babies are now on the menu. And they are hungry.

NEXT TIME

During which time we better get to know M. While perusing paint colors at the local home-improvement-plex, M is recognized for her little-heralded supporting role in a mercifully cancelled television drama featuring melancholic college students. This is the first such occasion to which I have born witness. We end up settling on a paint color unfortunately dubbed “Kitten White”.

AND AFTER THAT

A birthday adventure to Vancouver. We choose this destination based on abundant assertions that Vancouver is a “surprisingly awesome place to visit that one would not naturally choose for a vacation destination”. Yes. People who told us about it used quotes, and they all said exactly those words. This plays into my brand new conspiracy theory that Canada is trying to lure all the good Americans north, thus leaving only a Sara Palin-esque underclass here at home. Canada’s status on the world stage will blossom! They ostensibly accomplish this by having delicious restaurants. Also on the trip, M encounters the friendliest raccoons in North America.

[ Topic Fiction and Snobbery, Short Fiction | No Comments ]

This “Liberal Experiment” Sounds Like a Real Blast

By adam || June 16, 2009

I recently got an email from my mom, who has been under assault by some conservative friends who are deeply worried about the downfall of the empire. These emails have grown more common of late, and in her latest missive, she asked for my two cents on the recent news from The Drudge Report that President Obama has enlisted ABC news to help him with a massive PR rollout of his health care plan on the evening of June 24th. Her conservative friends warn that this is evidence that “The Liberal Experiment” is upon us. I think that makes them sound petty and bitter. Her email (re-printed with permission), and my three cents follow:

Adam,

Hi. Any comments on this? My conservative friends are “terrified that the liberal experiment has begun.” Hmm.

Hope your day is going well!

Mom,

1) Obviously the president has no obligation to present the opposing view to his plan and cannot be faulted for successfully convincing ABC to cover the issue thoroughly.

2) Since Ronald Reagan abolished the fairness doctrine in 1987, no broadcast entity is required to present equal time to opposing opinions. Is this a good example of journalistic integrity? I’d say no, but it is certainly ABC’s prerogative to cover the issue however they please. If the RNC has a problem with it, the proper recourse is the one they appear to have chosen, which is to take it up with ABC.

3) None of the above can be interpreted as anything other than a very media savvy president doing whatever he can to get the message out on a very important issue. I’m not even sure what “The Liberal Experiment” is, but maybe the folks worried about it could find some more constructive ways to lend their voice to our national troubles.

The “Socialism” argument was bunk, and so is this.

[ Topic Media, Politics, Politics, Etc., Ridiculosity | No Comments ]

Atwater Village Farmers Market Saved?

By adam || June 12, 2009

The LA Times is reporting this afternoon that a Wells Fargo spokesperson indicated the Atwater Village Farmers Market has escaped the threat of eviction. Though the details of the meeting to negotiate the terms of their continued operation remain vague, it sounds like some wheels got greased afterall.

Here’s three cheers to anyone who called and/or wrote the bank. I have a feeling a little well-placed outrage might have had a little something to do with this turn of events.

Regardless, we’ll take an optimistic wait-and-see approach until the deal is set in stone next week.

[ Topic Ridiculosity | No Comments ]

Bad Bank

By adam || June 12, 2009

More word on the Atwater Village Farmers market closure. I spoke with a rep from Eric Garcetti’s office this morning and he said they were aware of the issue and were actively working to arrange a meeting between the bank manager and the farmers market organizers. I also contacted The LA Times, Metblog LA, The Los Feliz Ledger, and I left a message for the Wells Fargo bank manager, Ricardo Villareal. His number is 323-663-8024.

Email Arsen Melikyan in Eric Garcetti’s office and let him know you’re concerned about this threat to our Farmer’s Market. Also, feel free to give Ricardo a call and at least leave him a message that you’re calling about the Farmer’s Market…if you get him on the horn, then by all means, be nice.

[ Topic Ridiculosity | No Comments ]

Big Banking 1. Atwater Village 0. The Farmers Market Gets Axed.

By adam || June 11, 2009

Ricardo Villarreal is the branch manager and will be in the office tomorrow at 10am. Stop on by. Give him an ear full.

It sounds like the Wells Fargo branch on Glendale boulevard which has hosted the Atwater Village Farmers market on Sundays in their parking lot has finally applied the brakes. Word is filtering in that they have issued an eviction notice to the farmers market to vacate by the 30th of this month.

It’s time to make the post office work for your tax dollars. Send a letter, drop a dime, and heck, stop by the bank if you’ve got a free moment. Ricardo Villarreal is the manager and the man responsible for the eviction. We’ve put in a call and he’ll be at the bank at 10am tomorrow, Friday June 12th. The address is 3250 Glendale Blvd. Stop on by and give him a piece of your mind. Make it clear that Atwater Village won’t take this lying down.

Save the Atwater Village Farmers market, and save the veggies. Go ahead and mention the bank bailouts too. Why not? I’m fairly certain Wells Fargo never took any federal dollars, but that doesn’t mean they get to go ruin a really excellent farmers market.

Get more info here: http://www.oursilverlake.com/threads.php?id=158_0_10_0_C

[ Topic Ridiculosity | 1 Comment ]

Save the Veggies in Atwater Village!

By adam || June 10, 2009

Desperate times call for desperate measures, which in this case, basically meant writing a strongly worded letter.

On the local tip, and thanks to The Atwater Village Newbie Blog, I heard word that there’s some danger that Atwater Village’s awesome farmers market might get kicked to the curb by Wells Fargo bank who has, thus far, allowed the market to operate out of its parking lot on Sunday mornings. Now I won’t dredge up the national banking debacle for such selfish reasons as saving my local, super-easy-to-walk-to farmers market, but it does seem like poor timing for “the big bank” to start pushing around “the little farmers market”.

Regardless, desperate times call for desperate measures, which in this case, basically meant writing a strongly worded letter (full disclosure, co-writing actually, with a lovely woman, initials MG). The letter follows, as do the names and addresses of the intended recipients. If you’re a local, please feel free to reuse and send your own letter. Heck, if you’re in New York you can still send it. Free speech man! And reasonably priced veggies too! Reasonably priced!

Dear [PERSON AT LARGE, MEAN OLD BANK],

I’m writing to express my appreciation for the courtesy you have extended to the Atwater Village Farmers market over the past four years by allowing it to operate within your parking lot on Sunday mornings. It is my understanding that there have recently been discussions of terminating this contract, and I cannot tell you what a blow this would be to our community.

Atwater Village has truly blossomed over the past several years. It is one of the only truly walkable neighborhoods in the city of Los Angeles, and as such, has enjoyed an incredible influx of families and local businesses. As Atwater Village has endeavored to reinvent itself, it has created a thriving environment which have made its shops and restaurants a destination not only for the local population, but for people from all over the city. The Atwater Village Farmer’s Market is not only a strong sign of Atwater’s improvement, it is also a cause of continued growth. Knowing that there is a farmer’s market within easy walking distance is a huge incentive for potential home buyers, particularly young families who want to be able to live, shop and eat locally in their neighborhood without driving.

In this difficult economy, many up-and-coming neighborhoods backslide, and when this happens, local businesses often suffer the most. For this reason, it’s more important than ever that Atwater Village retain its residents and continue to attract new families and local businesses. Continuing Atwater’s growth can only be an asset to your bank, particularly when those people moving into the neighborhood demonstrate how much they value putting their money back into their community. This is exactly the type of people who visit farmer’s markets, so their continued support and patronage of ‘the local Wells Fargo’ will benefit your bank more than being open a few hours on Sunday ever will.

The Atwater Farmers Market is a huge asset to Atwater Village, and a much beloved one. It is, by extension, an asset to your bank’s business. The best way to maintain good relations with the Atwater community is to ensure that the Farmer’s Market continues to flourish.

Sincerely,

[YOUR NAME HERE]

SEND YOUR STRONGLY WORDED LETTER TO THE FOLLOWING FOLKS:

Judy Fishman
Vice President
Wells Fargo Corporate Properties Group
333 South Grand Ave., Ste. 700
Los Angeles, CA 90071

Ricardo Villarreal
MAC E2063-011
3250 Glendale Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90039

[ Topic Ridiculosity | 4 Comments ]

The Story of Easter

By adam || April 11, 2009

Jesus was kind of an egomaniacal jerk It was AD 33 and a Sunday, as it would happen, when a true miracle occurred. Jesus, the son of God and the King of Kings, etc., came back to life and emerged from the crypt where he had been buried only three days before. Outside the crypt, he came upon a human sized bunny rabbit crying somberly on a nearby rock. Noticing the rabbit’s tears, Jesus went unto him and said:

“Hello Mr. Rabbit. I am Jesus Christ. Son of God and King of Kings, etc. Why, may I ask, are you crying?”

Sobbing, the rabbit said, “Nice to meet you Mr. Jesus. I’m crying because I was on my way to a party and I lost all of my colorful eggs. I just don’t know what to do!”

“There, there,” said Jesus to the rabbit. “Perhaps I can help you find your eggs and then you can be on your way to the party.”

“Oh! That would be so grand,” said the rabbit. “How lucky I am that you should have come upon me out here in the middle of nowhere when we’re pretty much just surrounded by crypts full of dead people and whatnot.”

Laughing, Jesus said, “Well, well. You are lucky indeed. For lo, I was only moments ago reborn after being pretty brutally crucified on Friday. So it’s some pretty good luck for both of us, because now you can be the first witness to the miracle of my resurrection.”

“Wow, Jesus,” said the rabbit. “That IS miraculous. I’ve never actually heard of people really being reborn like that. I always just thought it was some sort of metaphor. Or is that a simile?”

“No, that’s a metaphor,” said Jesus with a chuckle. “But no, in this case, it’s the God’s-honest-truth, pun intended. I don’t know if you’re aware, but my Father, God, happened to single-handedly create the entire universe almost four thousand years ago. In addition to the many other magical powers imbued to me by Him, I’ve pretty much mastered the art of dying and coming back to life. Honestly, sometimes being flashy is the only way to get my message to stick with these people. ”

Poor little Easter Bunny “Oh, you don’t have to tell me about that Mr. Jesus,” the rabbit said, nodding. “Imagine walking around as a human-sized rabbit. Honestly, I get picked on SO much! Seriously, the level of intolerance is shocking.”

“Worry not, my bunny friend,” said Jesus somberly. “I’m going to do something about all the intolerance. My thought is that if everyone worships me as the one true God, then all the violence and intolerance will become a thing of the past. Then, I shall reward all these good people by bringing them up to Heaven in a little something I like to call ‘The Rapture’. Those who failed to understand my greatness shall, of course, be left behind to burn in a fiery pit of hell-on-Earth for a thousand years.”

“Hmmm. Yeah, I guess that could work,” said the rabbit. “OR, you could just tell people that they should be nice to each other, and instead of worshipping a God, they should just try to understand everyone’s perspective and work together to make the world a better place. Although, I realize that does sorta skip the whole hellfire part.”

“Yeah. I was gonna mention that,” said Jesus. “The hellfire is really my favorite part. It’s kind of the good part of the whole shebang.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty, uh, dramatic,” said the bunny rabbit appraising Jesus with a newfound awkwardness and looking as if maybe he’d like to get away from Him as soon as possible.

“Yes. Thank you. I’m rather fond of it,” said Jesus. “Now, shall we find your eggs?”

“Um. Right. Yes. My eggs,” said the rabbit. “Actually, that’s okay. I think maybe I can just retrace my steps and I’ll probably find them right in plain view.”

“Of course,” said Jesus, the Son of God and King of Kings, etc. “Like when you lose your car keys.”

“Well. Sorta, I suppose,” said the rabbit. “Although I’m a rabbit, so I don’t drive. And also, I don’t think anyone else drives yet since cars have yet to be invented.”

“Of course,” said Jesus in a slightly condescending tone. “I tend to forget that not everyone can magically see into the future like me. But anyway, I digress! I must be on my way so I can tell people of my miraculous rebirth, but before I go, I want to tell you that hereafter, people will call this day Easter. They will celebrate the day in my name! And you, from now on, will forever be known as The Easter Bunny! Your legend will grow as generations upon generations of giddy children help to find the colored eggs that you are herein forever doomed to continue losing.”

“Um. Thanks?” said the Easter Bunny. “That’s real nice of you to make me a buffoon for all time. You’re a real standup guy.”

“Thank you!” said Jesus, oblivious to the rabbit’s tone. “And now, I will leave you, and hope that hell on earth is kind to you and your children’s children since, obviously, only humans shall be able to participate in The Rapture.”

“Right. Of course.” said the Easter Bunny. “I really should have guessed that.”

“Goodbye Easter Bunny!” exclaimed Jesus.

As Jesus skipped away to spread the good news of his highly improbable rebirth, the Easter Bunny shook his head and turned to retrace his steps down the path from which he came.

“Yeah. Goodbye yourself,” muttered the Easter Bunny as he went. “I’m sure none of that will backfire on you.”

(Originally published on [painkiller.org] in March of 2008)

[ Topic Fiction and Snobbery, Religion, Short Fiction | No Comments ]