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It's a three-part interview! Very exciting things are brewing in Santa Barbara. I am blown away just thinking about it. We're promoting a gathering of races, of talents May 21st 9am-1pm. All bilingual!

The American Indian Movement is a national, politically potent, awareness-promoting human rights organization. It is neato that that they are promoting Families ACT!:

http://www.aimsb.org/AIMtv.html

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The Consumer Advocacy Coalition has joined Families ACT!
Until Roger Thompson gets back from the Chech Republic.
In the mieanwhile, the remarkable talents of CAC members,
fueled by massive character development, means that we actors suddenly have work!
Please come April 25 and May 2 @7:30 to hear a monologue like the one below,
talking about drugs and police brutality, incarceration,
and the kind of personal revelations sure to rupture the very
FABRIC of more traditional organizations like NAMI California, of
which my mother is a board member. Keep Reading!

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So, I was hospitalized for the third time, because I decided that I wanted to check out going off my meds, and I was advised that that is the way to do it.

So I got to the hospital, my dad and psychiatrist drove me in tandem to the hospital, UCLA’s neuropsychiatric institute, for my third hospitalization there, when I got to the hospital I was starting to really feel myself becoming incapacitated on a quantity of marijuana I had consumed.

Once I got there, I discovered that the game had totally changed. They were like, “you’re here for a med change”. And I was, like, “no”. In retrospect, that would have been the best-case scenario, but instead, they told me I had attacked my mom, and so that crime netted one a week and it was obvious that there was nothing that I could do.

I had to be restrained in the psych ER, but luckily, they waited for me to come down before, six hours later, I was transferred into the psychiatric wing, and for that I am truly grateful. Now, I had some experience with bad raps, as the previous time they said I had attacked my dad, and that netted me a month plus in the hospital, plus a locked facility afterward and conservatorship, eventually leading me to Santa Barbara, but that is just a sexist disparity I think.

When I was discharged, after a week, my discharge plan suggested a homeless shelter. That was quite a shock. As my mom explained it, she really hates how some people, in a situation remarkably similar to mine, end up homeless, uh, and that’s a real shame. In fact, I did have a friend up from Los Angeles stay with me who was homeless, and who introduced me to his drug of choice - the hallucinogen of cough syrup a couple of times. Robo-tripping, he decided that he was going to take a walk through the neighborhood on Upper State St. When he got back, he discovered his car had been towed, and he ended up walking for miles and miles, had huge blisters on his heels, and that is a recipe for a pissed-off houseguest if there ever was one. He never did get his car back.

I would like to draw the distinction between acting - performance - and avoiding being a role model. These seem like contradictory things. Because, I had a dream about my dad, where I told him that, when he died, I would always be reminded of him when I heard a joke that seemed like his type of humor. I was tearful that I didn’t have a sense of humor, and he replied that this was the “threshold of illumination”.

Smoking pot, taking acid and doing mushrooms, were similar to Robitussin or Tussing. It was a hallucinogen I tried, and who wouldn’t want to try it? So, I am not a role-model, but I knew enough to know that marijuana was a hallucinogen, and, besides, I don’t do those things anymore.

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Get the New on DVD | GreenCine widget and many other great free widgets at Widgetbox! Not seeing a widget? (More info)

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El Debarge Is Proof That The Current System Is Failing.

El DeBarge fell off the wagon, after launching a tour with a new album.
Not long on the heels of serving 13 months in prison. His album, Second Chance,
so promising, so honest. Well, he's had to cancel his tour and enter rehab,
again.


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My ex-ex-stepbrother decided not to use the plates I gave him, then I lost them.
They are somewhere in the house.


I have a license plate with no Jamaican patois twin. Argot, whatever. I just have this one.
I should have thought about it and realized that N is just as good as En.


My weight trainer embezzled from me. To add insult to injury, he couldn't ken my plate. He thought it said "L.A." My dad said Officer Rossler thinks he might not even be a citizen, but unless he is from Mexico City, no one could be that dense. But since I am out $4000 dollars, maybe dense is catching.

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It is the second Spanish vanity license plate of all I have ever seen.
I am excited that my plate now reads "1 En La [Mano]". It is my
first dive into Spanish culture.
Splitting it up, the one should be read as "Uno". Like the game.
Also, it goes really well with the L.A. Lakers plate frame I bought, though
personally, I think it goes better with the Unicycle message I've got on it right now.
The hand is a plate that sends money annually for preventing child abuse, and my
few alphanumeric message (only 5) allows the California poppies to really stand out.

I am going to consider putting "1 INNA [hand]" up for auction on Ebay. It has kind of a
pro-Obama sentiment going for it. Obama's got our country in his hands,
perhaps to the tune of "He'g got the whole world in his hands".

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I saw a license plate on a white Beemer today. It read "BEN-O". Perhaps, the plate (that I am hoping he keeps) might be interpreted at Max-1 √ Ben-0 √ I am still, officially, in the process of giving my Prius to my ex-step-brother. He deserves it.

I have been safety-minded of late. And, by that I suggest that relatively insipid license plates that, nevertheless, sport the hand symbol will keep people paying attention and alert, obeying traffic symbols. I might not know where I am going, but at least I am obeying traffic regulations.

I told my dad's second cousin's brother-in-law that it represented the Hamsa, the Arabic term that means good luck in Hebrew. It means warning to me, pay attention, don't get too distracted from your driving. And, I don't think people do. The license plate will soon be under new ownership. I hope that I can get one of the plates I featured in my previous post, one that will be inevitably interpreted as my former plate's step-sibling....

The car that will belong to my Once and Future Stepbrother. Very Lord of the Rings.

No, it isn't a euphemism for masturbation.
There are, however, many of those. My favorite is "Driving to Fresno".
Not a particularly exciting road, driving to Fresno.

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I am excited to have a license plate that says so much in only one number and four letters. It gives credence to the idea that a simpler license plate is less of a pain in the ass, certainly for police officers.

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My plate:

Similar enough to my plate, which I would argue therefore is trilingual, nonetheless a true Spanish use of the [hand] symbol: 1 EN LA [hand or mano]

Un pajaro en la mano es mejor que cinco volando.

In Portuguese it is the same expression as two hands are better than one. Hence the semblance to "two chicks to a hen".

Quite frequently, while driving in my car, I see something like BNE MLE. In college, that's the names that my girlfriend and I had, but most people would assume it is monograms. It reminds me of those people who put their and their spouse's initials on their licence plates.
To the ex-girlfriend, wherever you are (Fresno), the plate is still available - in either order.

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