Bad Ass Drivers

Typically, the Bad Ass American Is Most Readily Found on the Road

A few days ago, I wondered why Americans were so intent on playing the role of the bad ass. Of course, the great theater of bad ass behavior is to be found on the streets and roads of your neighborhood. And you don’t have to go very far to find them.

Everybody is familiar with the over-aggressive goon who cuts you off in your lane with inches to spare. You can beep your horn at him, but that will only give him a warm glow that he not only got away with it, but succeeded in annoying you in the process. You can catch up with the louse and give him the finger or verbal abuse, but that could place you at risk. These are not nice people. Being not nice is a way of life with them and affords them some form of satisfaction.

On the other side of the spectrum is the (mostly) woman drivers who in their minds see stop signs at every residential intersection, even when there is none. Although there are hyper-aggressive women drivers as well, intent on proving their status as bad ass malefactors, most women do not fall into this category. Texting and otherwise driving distracted is not so much an instance of bad ass driving as it is an invitation to disaster.

Ultimately, the only way to deal with real bad ass drivers is to see them the way a Buddhist monk views venial sins: with complete equanimity. By reacting at all, you are in danger of allowing yourself to be distracted.

It would be nice if there were more police enforcement of moving violations, but I suspect that the highways of America will become choked with gory bodies before the men in blue could be lured from their coffee and doughnuts.

Getting Ready for Yucatán

A Mérida Taxi Receipt from a November 1982 Trip

I finally settled on my date of departure for Mexico to take place around the middle of next month, though Volaris still has not confirmed my reservation. I will be flying to Mérida via Guadalajara both ways. I could have elected to transfer in Mexico City, but I have memories of a flight some thirty years ago while the passengers waited for hours for a well-connected wife of a politician to be boarded ever so fashionably late.

But then, when one travels in Mexico, one travels by Mexican rules. This involves an expectation of the unexpected, and a sharp attention paid to current circumstances, despite conflicting information from supposedly authoritative sources.

In preparation, I have been reading Paul Theroux’s On the Plain of Snakes: A Mexican Journey (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2019). Ever since running into his book of a series of railroad journeys from Boston to Argentina entitled The Old Patagonian Express, I have been deeply influenced by his writings on travel. Theroux is profoundly cynical, though perhaps not so much as Tobias Smollett, whose journey of a trip to France and Italy earned him the nickname of Smelfungus by no less than Laurence Sterne.

Theroux provides a nice summary in his book about the land I am about to visit:

I have not found a traveler or commentator, foreign or Mexican, who has been able to sum up Mexico, and maybe such an ambition is a futile and dated enterprise. The country eludes the generalizer and summarizer; it is too big, too complex, too diverse in its geography and culture, too messy and multilingual—the Mexican government recognizes 68 different languages and 350 dialects.

When my best and oldest friend talks about Mexico—usually disparagingly—he really means the border regions, where the drug cartels, police, and army are the major players.  I myself have visited several Mexicos:

  • Border Mexico (Tijuana, Ensenada, Mexicali, and Cabo San Lucas)
  • Pacific Beach Resort Mexico (Mazatlán, Puerto Vallarta)
  • Colonial Mexico (Zacatecas, Guanajuato, San Miguel Allende, Querétaro)
  • Canyon Mexico (Copper Canyon)
  • Capital Mexico (Mexico City—a world in itself)
  • Gulf Mexico (Puebla, Papantla, Veracruz, Jalápa, Villahermosa)
  • Zapotec and Mixtec Mexico (Oaxaca)
  • Caribbean Mexico (Cozumel)
  • Mayan Mexico

My favorite is the last category, which can be further subdivided into Highland Maya (San Cristóbal de las Casas), Jungle Maya (Palenque), and Yucatec Maya (Mérida, Uxmal, Chichén Itzá, Uxmal, Campeche).

A Light Goes Out

Anna Karina in Jean-Luc Godard’s ALPHAVILLE (1965). Courtesy: Rialto Pictures

I keep returning to a transitional point in my life that followed my pituitary tumor operation and my moving to Los Angeles at the tail end of 1966 to begin the rest of my life. My hero during that period was French New Wave director Jean-Luc Godard, who was married to the lovely Anna Karina. In all, she acted in seven of Godard’s features, most notably Pierrot le Fou and Alphaville (both 1965).

The latter film, one of my favorites, could only be described as Science Fiction Film Noir. In it, she plays Natacha von Braun, daughter of the notorious Leonard Nosferatu (alias Professor von Braun), chief administrator of Alpha 60, the all-powerful computer that rules the city of Alphaville.

On December 14, the Danish/French film actress died of cancer in a Paris hospital. It was hard to see an actress whose loveliness I revered when I was young come to an end.

Jean-Paul Belmondo Kisses Karina in Godard’s Pierrot le Fou (1965)

I have several of the Godard/Karina films on DVD and will probably be viewing them again in the weeks to come. Somewhere, in those almond eyes, my own past is looking back at me. The most apt expression? The lines Karina says in Alphaville:: “Joli sphinx.”

It would be nice if all the people we have loved from near or afar can continue on with us as if in a cloud around our persons. But it is not to be.

 

Bad-Ass Nation

Is This Really the Way We See Ourselves?

Take a look at our recent movie heroes. Instead of John Wayne or Jimmy Stewart or Cary Grant, we have violent, muscle-bound clods like Bruce Willis, Dwayne Johnson (“The Rock”), Samuel L. Jackson, Sylvester Stallone, Steven Seagal, or even Arnold Schwarzenegger. There is a tendency for young men to shave their heads, cover themselves with tattoos, and even dress like big-time bad asses.

Even women are not immune to mthis effect, starting with Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor in Terminator 2 (1991). This was taken all the way to the top by Quentin Tarantino with Uma Thurman as Beatrice Kiddo in Kill Bill 1 (2003) and Kill Bill 2 (2004).

Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor in Terminator 2

I wonder why we have to look so tough. If we ask ourselves what do we gain by looking tough, I would have to answer, “Practically nothing.” You may choose to shave your head, grow a scraggly beard, get tattooed like a Maori warrior, wear a hoodie, and practice your scowls in a mirror. Will that really protect you if you get caught by someone who really is tough and sees through to your marshmallow-like interior? Will you be able to convince your fellow inmates at San Quentin that you can successfully protect your ass if you drop your soap in the shower?

No, I am not being facetious. These are existential questions. And they relate to the way that America is faring in the world today.

Let’s say you’re a Navy Seal or a Ranger. What is your record of success when military decisions are being made by a draft-dodger with a terminal case of bone spurs? Our tough guys abandoned Syria to the real bad guys when the Trumpster decided to pull out. (Were his bone spurs bothering him?)

A Real Bad Ass Car, for People with Tiny Dicks

Well, I suppose if you’re so fortunate as to avoid someone who is willing to face you down, you can drive around in your Tesla or Hummer and make yourself the envy of pouting teenagers.

 

Meat-a-Palooza

Dan Carefully Measures the Internal Temperature of the Meat

One of the highlights of my weekend trip to visit my brother and family in Palm Desert is a growing family tradition known as Meat-a-Palooza. Dan is an incredible chef, and he loves to prepare a feast featuring a variety of meat dishes. Incredibly, he is able to single-handedly prepare a multi-course feast that is all ready to be served at the same time. I can’t even do that with two dishes, let alone a dozen.

I don’t think I’m a bad cook, but I simply can’t compare with Dan. Everybody always asks him why he doesn’t open a restaurant. In answer, he merely smiles and begs to differ. He knows that running a restaurant is more than anything a form of slavery, involving long hours seven days a week. Visiting Dan’s place is always a special treat for me.

The Same Beef Dish on Serving Plate

The curious thing is that I am gradually turning into a vegetarian, but that all is put on hold when it is Meat-a-Palooza time. Dan’s dishes are always top drawer and worth eating irrespective of one’s foodie beliefs.

The Groaning Table Gradually Fills Up

 

Awarding the First MEMFOTY

Mr Mark Zuckerface of BergBook

The MEMFOTY is a new annual award given to the person I deem as the Most Evil Mo-Fo of the Year. It is with great pleasure that the first recipient will be Mark Zuckerface, the nation’s only android CEO (of BergBook). He has resolutely attempted to destroy oncoming generations of humans by replacing human interaction with synthetic digital equivalents.

It takes no major effort to see millennials and Gen Z addicts going through life slightly stooped with smart phones held in front of them. Instead of looking up and being aware of their surroundings, Addicts are involved in interacting with phantom “friends” and issuing “Likes”—but not “Dislikes”—to simulacra of interpersonal communications.

The Net Result of Addiction to Social Media Like BergBook

I fully expect that, in future years, social media will be blamed for much of the turmoil of our era. We will have to wait for the children of this generation to react against social media.

 

Family Portrait

A Family Portrait at the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens

Standing in the above picture (left to right) are me; my sister-in-law Lori Paris; the children’s nanny Katia from Toluca, Mexico; my brother Dan; Lori’s son Danny Duche; my niece Hilary Paris Moorman; Lori’s daughter Jennifer Duche. In the front row are Oliver Moorman, Joseph Moorman, and Ely Moorman. The photo was snapped by a friendly tourist who was reciprocating for a picture we took of them. I kind of look like a fire hydrant who wandered into the picture.

The ten of us came to Palm Desert from L.A. (me), Seattle (Joe, Hilary, and sons with Katia the au pair), San Francisco (Jennifer), and Denver (Danny Duche). It was nice to see the whole family all in one place.

The Next Generation

Oliver Moorman, Age 4, with Palo Verde Tree in Background

I just returned today from the Coachella Valley where I attended a family reunion on the occasion of several birthdays appearing close together. Plus I had the chance to spend more time with the youngest members of the family, my niece Hilary’s two sons. Oliver and Ely. As she lives in the Seattle area, I don’t have too many occasions to see her, her husband Joe, and their two boys.

Yesterday, we spent several hours at the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens in Palm Desert, where my brother Dan lives. You will see several pictures taken there over the next week or so. According to Condé Nast Traveler, it is one of the ten best zoos in the United States. In my opinion, it is the very best. At present, it concentrates on the desert animals on two continents: North America and Africa. Under construction is a small enclave dedicated to the plants and animals of Australia.

My Niece Hilary with Youngest Son Ely, Aged 1½, at the Living Desert Petting Zoo

One of the most fun things about visiting a place like the Living Desert is to see its effect on young children. Ollie and Ely were as if in a magical realm, in which awe predominates. Even the goats in the Petting Kraal were a revelation to the two boys. Then there was the feeding of the giraffes, with their long tongues wrapping around the Romaine Lettuce the boys held out to them. Even the carousel, featuring endangered species worldwide, caught Ollie’s attention, as he rode on a giant hummingbird.

Ollie with My Brother Dan on Carousel

Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind spending more time at the Living Desert. I am not immune to being overawed.

 

Family Interlude

Palm Trees and Snowcapped Mountains

I will be taking a few days off to go to Palm Desert in the Coachella Valley for a family get-together. In addition to my brother Dan and sister-in-law Lori, my niece Hilary with husband and sons; step-niece Jennifer; and step-nephew Danny will be present. Martine won’t be coming with me because she hates the Coachella Valley, having lived and worked in nearby Twentynine Palms back in the 1990s.

As I am quite sterile and prefer not to adopt, my brother’s side of the family has become increasingly important to me. In the same way, I have always maintained close relations with the children of my best friends. It’s either that or spend my declining years shouting at kids to get off my lawn.

When I get back to Los Angeles on Monday, I hope to have some good stories to tell you and pictures of my family to show you.

Indian Country

The Area Covered by the Auto Club Indian Country Map (in Orange)

This posting is about a map that I love. Ever since 1985 when I drove with my friends Peter and Gayle to the area around Flagstaff, Arizona, I have fallen in love with the Southern California Auto Club map that covers the main tourist areas of the American Southwest. It is called, simply, the Indian Country map. It covers southern Utah, Northern Arizona, southwest Colorado, and northwest New Mexico. Within its coverage area lie Acoma Sky City, Arches, Bryce Canyon, Canyon de Chelly, Chaco Canyon, Durango, Grand Canyon, the Hopi and Navajo Indian reservations, Lake Powell, Mesa Verde, the Petrified Forest, most of the Pueblo Indian reservations, Sandia Peak, Santa Fe, and Zion—all of which I have visited on various trips.

It is probably the most useful tourist map produced in the United States. Especially for someone like myself, who loves this part of the country above all others.

The AAA Indian Country Map

There are times when I wish I had a camper van that I could use to visit the many hundreds of tourist sights covered by this map. What with my age, I can no longer kneel on the ground to put up a tent, but I could sleep—most comfortably—in a good camper van.

If you are interested, there is an interesting article about the cartographer who produced and updates this map. You can find it by clicking here.