This rambunctious fellow caused quite the stir this morning. At 9 a.m. it was 80 something degrees in the sun; Anaheim was on fire for the fourth day in a row and super-maximum prisons acorss southern california were in their fifth day of rioting ("Attica!
But Debbie Hairy, a black man in his 40s, was keeping with the season: A warm winter coat the color of filth, and sporting a full black beard and rather unkempt black hair. On top of that he had a blond wig, and capping THAT off was a trucker cap crushed down on top of it all that in a previous life might have been red. The blond wig stuck out all over the place, as he delicately brushed aside a few strands of blond hair from his eyes...
In much the same way as fine hotels phone you in the morning so you don't miss an important business meeting or your flight on the Concorde back to Paris, Hollywood hobos have a similar service provided to them by some quasi-security guards with an embroidered badge on their green polo shirts that say "Tourist Relations." Between 8:30 and 9:30 in the morning they gently rouse the slumbering dreamers from their doorstoops - usually with a gentle kick. I watched a couple of these "Tourist Relations" officers this morning trying to rouse a man fast asleep in a cozy abandoned door-front between the Erotic Museum and Fredrick's of Hollywood. He had a full leg cast and a chichuahua sat next to him (already awake) while the two guards kept nudging him in the midsection with their boots. They were persistent, I'll give them that!