Mo., Not U.K.
Mo., Not U.K.
Regarding David Ehrenstein’s comment that Vincent Price was “an Englishman who made so successful a transition to America that few think of him as being English at all” [“The U.K. in L.A.,” Nov. 24–30]: Perhaps that is because Mr. Price was not British, having been born and bred in my hometown, St. Louis, Missouri. It’s true that he spent some time going to school in England (after graduation from Yale University, Mr. Price attended the Courtauld Institute of Art in London for a few years), and he appeared on stage in London during those years. But Mr. Price was American through and through.
Other than that, nice article.
The Law and the Jungle
This letter is regarding Steven Mikulan’s “An Asphalt Jungle” [Nov. 17–23] — excellent article! I’ve also noticed there may be a related story with the parking gestapo in L.A. in general. I can’t believe the pressure that people living in L.A. deal with every day just making sure their cars are okay/legal/in a safe spot, etc.
The parking gestapo is relentless! It’s just come to my attention that the parking gestapo drive around putting people’s license plates into their computers to find any outstanding parking tickets these street-parked vehicles may have. Do they do it in the Hills? Or just in the low-income barrios? Wow . . . let’s just add more pressure to low-income residents by booting and towing their vehicles. Give me a break!
Vehicles speed dangerously on Normandie, between Hollywood and Sunset, and you never see a cop giving tickets. But the parking gestapo lurks at the end of the street just waiting for people to “double-park” (without blocking traffic) and take their groceries/laundry/other heavy items from the car up to their apartments. It’s a jungle out there, all right — not just for wealthy club goers, but also for the everyday working stiffs trying to survive in this concrete jungle.
Have a Blast
I was reading Linda Immediato’s article “Zen and the Art of the Muzzle Blast” [Nov. 10–16] and wanted to pass along my kudos for a positive article on shooting. Shooters these days are not all rednecks or psychotics, but pretty normal working professionals. There are quite a few very exciting “run-and-gun” clubs in the L.A./O.C. area. This style of shooting is practical/scenario-based (e.g., actual personal-defense situations, or speed shooting) and much more enjoyable than standing in a shooting range and blasting away. You can Google “IDPA” or “IPSC/USPSA” for more info.
No Laughing Matter
Oh, the irony! Nikki Finke’s horrible tirade in the aftermath of Michael Richards’ infamous meltdown [“Kramer Apologized on Dave Tonight With Seinfeld’s Help,” Deadline Hollywood Daily blog, Nov. 20] is the very definition of prejudice. Finke says: “In my opinion, the real news behind Seinfeld’s Michael Richards spewing ‘n’-word racial epithets after being heckled during his Friday night standup routine at the Laugh Factory is this: Many of today’s comedy clubs have become a cesspool of hatred. Inside them, racism, ethnic prejudice, religious bigotry, homophobia and sexism all masquerade as humor. Anyone who’s been to the clubs and heard the acts knows this to be true.”
I can’t condemn this kind of talk in strong enough terms. She owes every comedian and comedy club and every standup-comedy fan in America an apology. This is bigotry pure and simple. To summarily dismiss an entire artform with such outrageous language is beneath your publication. Standup comics are artists. The vast majority of comedians approach standup with honesty, with intelligence, with humor, with humanity. We’re appreciated by millions and we’re an important part of the entertainment scene in this country. When your crotchety columnist spews such nonsense, it makes your newspaper “a cesspool of hatred.”
Haddon Heights, N.J.
In The Light in the Piazza (reviewed in the Nov. 17–23 issue), the role of Signor Naccarelli is played by David Ledingham, not Jonathan Hammond.