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Sorry for the absence of posts (and malice) this week.  In spite of (or thanks to) the physical therapy, my back has been more querulous than usual lately, so I’ve been trying some Tough Love by giving it time outs and revoking its computer privileges.  Unfortunately, these disciplinary measures haven’t discouraged my spine from sneaking out after dark to get drunk, drag race for pink slips, or go on shooting sprees at the Griffith Observatory, so I guess I’ll just give up and let it go back to blogging.

In the meantime, my spine and I went for a walk this afternoon, and I took a few shots with my iPhone, just to preserve a record of what the world was like before it all ended in 2012.  As you can see, the city has already begun putting up the traditional Christmas decorations on Hollywood Boulevard:

Felling a streetlight is a fairly common occurrence on the Boulevard, but it amazes me how these drunks never fail to crash into one of the few remaining old style lamps — the ones with a soupçon of character — rather than the plentiful, and ugly modern fixtures.  You’d think, if nothing else, the law of averages would intervene at some point.  Still, it’s pretty damn festive, don’t you think?

The Cinerama Dome, Sunset Boulevard:


Hollywood Palladium, Sunset Boulevard:


16 Responses to “Scenes From The Hollywood Renaissance – Episode 3”

…the cone is the warden of our woes

Between Charles Champlin and either Terry Moore or Garry Moore, I believe, unless Larry, Barry, or Harry Moore have stars. By the way, kudos to myself for not adding Charles Champlin has a star? since most Midwesterners don’t realize that everyone does.

And I’ve told this one before, but it’s a fave: the New York Film Critics Circle was debating whether Champlin should be made a member, and a supporter said, “At least he isn’t owned by the studios.” To which John Simon replied, “Why would they pay for what they can have for free?”

I didn’t realize Midwesterners even knew about Charles Champlin. I thought he was strictly our cross to bear.

You bastards, I’d forgotten Champlin like I’d forget a poorly digested meal. And I’m not sure he’s even dead yet.

Anyone can get a star, but they aren’t cheap.

Isn’t Garry Moore Jewish? Why are they giving him a Christmas lamppost????

Or is it a cleverly disguised menorah?

Charles Champlin is the mythical beast of Lake Champlain in New York State.

Metalfest?! All Ages All Day?!!

Well, I’ll see you at the Palladium. Nothing would soothe my shattered nerves more than a good, old fashioned family-friendly blacksmithing demonstration. It’s about time Hollywood did something to celebrate the Iron Age.

At least Robert Hilburn can’t afford a star yet.

Even with that debris, Hollywood Blvd. has really cleaned up it’s act since I was a dewy-eyed actress in the late 70′s. That was the first place my visiting guests always asked to see but if they weren’t packing sidearms I politely declined to take them there.

Robert Hilburn?

You can see all the stars as you walk down Hollywood Boulevard,
Some that you recognise, some that you’ve hardly even heard of,
People who worked and suffered and struggled for fame,
Some who succeeded and some who suffered in vain.
Rudolph Valentino, looks very much alive,
And he looks up ladies’ dresses as they sadly pass him by.
Avoid stepping on Bela Lugosi
‘Cos he’s liable to turn and bite,
But stand close by Bette Davis
Because hers was such a lonely life.

Yikes. I understand maybe 1% of the references in this post and the comments. I mean, the words make sentences, but I do not understand them. I don’t think it’s my age. After all, I was dewy-eyed in the 70s too. Ah. My brain may need some Tough Love.

Things will be better tomorrow, when, to commemorate a past event, we will kill and eat an animal. A ritual sacrifice, with pie.

With you, Larkspur. We can join the asylum together.

As for the lamp-post, sadly I think the ugly ones are built to be more crash resistant. Sometimes you will see little chunks taken out of their pebble-rock hides, exposing the fiberglass reinforced concrete within. Sometimes you will even see them felled, but notice they do not break, thus protecting the city’s investment. Whereas the pretty lamppost is just some iron and somewhat prone to being brittle.

not a gator and Larkspur, it not you, it’s probably your screen resolution or something… they’re discussing the names on the sidewalk stars, to wit, [something]rry Moore and Charles Champlin. I vote for Terry Moore, just out of childish admiration for her white fur “bikini” (it wasn’t really) that caused such a moralistic stink when I was about 11. She wore it for a USO show, and the Grundyism hit the fan. Compared to Carrie Prejean’s antics it was’t much, but the flap was probably a more sincere, grassroots sort of flap, since teevee didn’t pump such things as much in those days.

Charles Champlin, I gather, has no such claim on anyone’s girlish affection. Unless he actually is the Lake Champlain monster, in which case I am prepared to at least believe in him.

Even with that debris, Hollywood Blvd. has really cleaned up it’s act since I was a dewy-eyed actress in the late 70’s.

Jim Caviezel…is that you???

Something to say?