The Sasquatch Journal

Wait a second, I thought as I found myself surrounded by hundreds of dark-haired, copper and brown-skinned people. Isn’t Beverly Hills full of blondes and fake breasts and movie stars?
I strained my neck looking at everyone’s faces down the halls and ornate staircases of this upscale mansion-like home of the city’s vice mayor. Yep, I had the lightest skin and hair of anyone here.

One thing that was apparently missing in my pop culture education about Beverly Hills from the likes of Weezer, Aaron Spelling, and Eddie Murphy movies from the 80’s was the vast amount of Persian Jews that live here.

For those who don’t know… when I say “Persian” I actually mean “Iranian”, but Persian is the term the people here prefer even if the Persian kingdom hasn’t existed in well..awhile. I know I thought the only things Persian anymore were fuzzy cats, gaudy rugs, and games involving The Prince Of…

Apparently Beverly Hills became a destination during the reign of the Shah in Iran in the late 70’s. I was told that the Shah’s wife moved there after the Iranian revolution in 1979. A lot of other wealthy Iranians did the same.

A Reference.com site says, “Some estimates put the Persian community population as high as 20%. Some claim it to be even higher. The majority of Beverly Hills Persians adhere to Judaism.”

20 percent? With that high of a percentage you would of thought at least one Beverly Hills 90210 character would have been Persian. Maybe Brian Austin Green replaced by Barzoo Asin G’Areh?


Never mind that he speaks in broken English, and this his platform for city council consists of “Free Internet” and “Licence Plate Scanner Laser Thingys”, this guy sees himself as a Jackie Robinson-like figure opening the door for Persian politicians to go mainstream in America.
When I asked him what prevented young people from voting, he quipped “Hormones” with a smile as if teens would be lined up in front of precincts at the First Prespyterian to vote on the city council if only they weren’t having sex during polling times!

As it turns out, these snazzily-dressed “young people” who were busy fake smiling and handing out business cards like candy in order to ‘network’ weren’t so young after all. Two women I interviewed, a clinical psychologist and a personal trainer (I joked with them and called them “Mind and body” were 32 and 34 years old respectively).

One of the youngest people I found was an aggressive 29-year woman who had spoken earlier in the night, and when I say she spoke, I mean she lectured the room about their lack of civic knowledge.
“How many people here know how many terms George Washington served? I bet not many of you,” she simultaneously smiled and sneered with a look of a young politician disguising the fact that she hated everyone in the room. “It was actually two. Do you know why?” she added, while I felt a man next to me shift uncomfortably.

I later interviewed this girl, and she spoke to me like a pageant contestant would to the judges.
“The 2000 Election was a total turning point,” she told me. “I felt like I was just living in this country and not participating.”

It sounded noble enough when she noted that she gave up her dream as the president of a college to work for the city council but I asked her what she does now and she told me she was working for a lobbying group called APAC. From the halls of education to the sychophantic life of a lobbyist! Democracy would be proud!

Our interview got off track eventually, as we talked about other things and as an attractive young Jewess (she may have actually been a ‘Israel Jew’ and not a ‘Persian Jew’) named Esther smiled at me and asked for my business card.
Meanwhile, Miss Lobbyist was continuing to barrage me with her so-called solution to solve L.A. gang problems.

“Don’t you watch movies?” I joked finally. “All we need is Hilary Swank and Michelle Pfiffer as teachers in our schools. Hot white chicks are the answer to our problems.”

This finally made her laugh for the first time in the conversation.

I finally was able to slip out of the conversation, but not before being approached by a goofy, tallish, bespectacled Persian guy who was like a nerdier version of Jeff Goldblum.

Goldblum and I had a brief awkward conversation before I slipped out into the night and away from the Prince of Beverly Hills Persia’s house.

As I walked briskly to my car, I kept looking for a familiar face – Brian Austin Green’s even, to remind me that I was in the Beverly Hills of Rodeo Drive and Paris Hilton’s dog.

Reason #2,395 That Journalism In West L.A. Is Ridiculous...

My editor recently received an email that had this Lindsay Lohan picture attached:



>> Dear Editor,
>>
>> I am the co-owner of the clothing line LOLA. Lindsay Lohan wore one of
>> out hats recently (on her way to rehab). We were wondering if you would
>> be interested to writing an item about it. I included some information
>> about us below. Give me a call or e-mail me if your interested.
>> Here is a link to our website:
>>
>> http://www.lolanewyork.com
>>
>> Thank You,
>>
>> James Cruickshank
>>
>> LOLA
>> The New York based lifestyle brand, LOLA New York has found its way into
>> the wardrobes of a diverse and eclectic mix of celebrities. From Lindsay
>> Lohan's favorite hat to shirts donned by rappers like Jim Jones on MTV,
>> LOLA has established itself as a leading trendsetter among the
>> designers in New York's downtown fashion community.
>>
>> LOLA products include everything from clothing and art to limited
>> edition skateboards and music. They can be found in select boutiques in
>> New York, Beverly Hills, Miami, Osaka, Aspen, Amsterdam, Boston, and
>> London as well as in their flagship store in Southampton, New York.
>>
>> For more info you can visit them online at www.lolanewyork.com
>>
>>

Now, I'm not sure what's more ridiculous in this situation:

1. That a 21-year old movie star girl went to rehab for substance abuse.
2. The fact that said girl going to rehab has been covered more by the media than 1 billion more important news stories.
3. That the creator of the LOLA hat thought our paper would like to write a news story about the movie star girl wearing his hat brand on her way to rehab.

I think I want to kill myself now.

This is a sort of poetic justice, I mused while dancing on a stage and shouting the lyrics to the “Super Bowl Shuffle” in a small Chicago-loving bar in Santa Monica seconds after the Bears had just beat the heavily favored Saints to go to the Super Bowl. It was certainly a strange thought to have when you are wearing a #50 Mike Singletary jersey, a white headband, and aviator glasses, mouthing the words “I’m Samurai Mike and I stop ‘em cold…” while a drunk guy wearing a foam bear head grinds his butt on you and a girl pointing a camera in your face screams, “You’re the quarterback!” in delight…but nonetheless, that’s exactly what I was thinking.The '85 Bears are still the best (and most fun) team in sports history.

Of course, maybe it was just my inflated in-the-momentness of seeing my favorite team go this far after 21 years that led me to believe that the under-appreciated Bears being able to triumph and my having a large freelance piece published in a newspaper in the hometown of the Bears on the same day was a cosmic irony.

It’s not like I won the Pulitzer Prize in journalism for finding a secret stash of WMD’s in the Middle East or anything. Or since I’m in Los Angeles…no, I didn’t get an exclusive interview with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes’s baby. Still, it was a small triumph for me seeing my “A Final Farewell to Arcades” published as a full-page spread in the Chicago Sun-Times on Sunday.
I like what the Sun-Times did with the huge Pac-Man eating crudely drawn stick figures representing Mom and Dad. My mom (perhaps understandably so) was not amused.

Or at least it is considering my story.

I left central Illinois almost 10 years ago now to go to college at the University of Missouri for Journalism school. But despite the fact that I got A’s in my pre-Journalism classes, I’d been the editor for my CC newspaper, and that I’d won a high school journalism award, the Deans at the school of journalism denied me entry into the school because my GPA was less than .3 points from the minimum needed. . I petitioned and wrote long passionate essays pleading my case, but it didn’t matter. I was rejected. (Ironically, the school lowered the GPA standards a couple years later.)
OK, so this picture is more than a year old (Halloween '05). I have way too many pictures of myself in my Bears jersey.

So, feeling like a complete loser, I decided to change my major to something I simply felt I’d enjoy learning more about…History. And of course I always had to endure the questions… Why are you a history major? Want to be a teacher? Or you’re a writer, why aren’t you in the Journalism school? Then I would always sheepishly explain that I was still going to be a writer/journalist no matter what paper degree I had in my hands at the end of the four years. Some would nod their head in smile, others would give me the ‘Yeah, right, good luck buddy!” disbelieving look as if not getting in the school was a sign from God that I wasn’t cut out for the profession.

Out of college, I spent my first year and a half adrift in dead-end jobs as a substitute teacher or as a night shift box lifter at a textbook factory (where I wrote moribund poetry about how my soul was leaking from my body as I stood for 8 straight hours at a automated assembly line belt.) I finally got my first break at a weekly start-up newspaper in tiny Centralia, Missouri…which later failed less than a year later for reasons to ridiculous to explain here.

Since then, I’ve slowly made my way up the newspaper food chain (Mexico, Mo., to Jefferson City, Mo., now to West L.A.) with a few hitches along the way, namely joining another company that failed and being laid off, then being stuck in a fun, yet go-nowhere job as a video game tester for nearly six months.
The arcades article isn’t the first thing I’ve had published before, but to me it represents how far I’ve been able to go despite being rejected and pushed off-track so many times.

This wasn’t Tom Brady adding another ring to his cachet, my small triumph was more like the Bears - who none of the experts picked to win its first playoff game, much less be in the Super Bowl. Now, the Bears haven’t won the Super Bowl, just as this article isn’t necessarily the ultimate pinnacle of my career..but it’s nice sometimes just to reflect on how far you’ve come…and do the Super Bowl Shuffle in celebration.

Thanks, Chicago.



Side notes:
-I made a huge mistake in taking 12 hours of Russian in two semesters in college, it absolutely murdered my GPA, and the only thing I remember how to say in Russian is "Hello" formally. The Cold War never should have ended.

-As I ran on stage as time ran out in the game Sunday, about 20 others joined me to dance, including the aforementioned guy who asked "Hey man, can I grind on you?" In any other circumstances I would of laughed and possibly ran, but I figured I get asked by guys to grind about as much as the Bears go to the Super Bowl, so maybe it was fate.

-I swear I'm not gay.