\nturned over the reins to Bush the Elder, I had been a
![\"Viva_reagan\"](\"http:\/\/hardnewsinc.blogs.com\/.shared\/image.html?\/photos\/uncategorized\/viva_reagan.gif\" "\\"Viva_reagan\\"")
<\/a>ssigned to do a stakeout\nin Bel Aire. As far as neighborhoods to
\nhave to stake out, well, there are pluses and minuses. While you aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t going to have to deal with
\nsome crackhead smashing the
\nwindow and carjacking you<\/a>, the Bel Aire Patrol can be a real pain in the
\nass, coming by every couple of hours and rousting you as you suck bad coffee and
\ntry to work the line for the 49ers v. Rams game.\n<\/p>\n
\u00e2\u20ac\u0153Who the hell are you and what do you want,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d snarled one of \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Whoa whoa whoa,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said, backpedaling and holding up my [to be continued…]<\/strong> <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" This was originally publised on the LAVoice.org blog, but it’s such a damn good piece of writing (if I can be excused for patting myself on the back) that I just had to recycle it and put it up here… Back in 1989, about four months after Reagan had finally turned over the reins to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","wds_primary_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[363,847,353,354],"class_list":["post-1147","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-journalism","tag-current-affairs","tag-journalism","tag-politix","tag-weblogs"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1147","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/12"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1147"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1147\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1147"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1147"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artesianmedia.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1147"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nfamiliar. As I stared at it, I gradually
\nrealized that it was the Clampett
\nMansion from the Beverly Hillbillies<\/a> \u00e2\u20ac\u201c the one that Granny, Jed and the
\nclan piled out of, waving at the end of each week\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s episode. It was right next door to the mansion that
\nReagan\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wealthy friends had gifted to Ronnie and Nancy (sort of a thanks for
\nthe nice tax cuts and fat defense contracts of the 80s). At the time, the address was this: 666 St. Cloud.\n<\/p>\n
\nlived, at least for a time, at a house whose street address was The
\nNumber of the Beast<\/a>. May I be struck
\ndown with lightning from the Great Fabricating
\nBlogger<\/a> <\/a>God in the Sky if I am lying. You may insert your own Reagan = Satan joke here; I think that that
\nfruit is just too low-hanging. <\/p>\n![\"Reagan_pointing_on_horse\"](\"http:\/\/hardnewsinc.blogs.com\/my_weblog\/images\/reagan_pointing_on_horse.jpg\" "\\"Reagan_pointing_on_horse\\"")
<\/a>
\nEventually, one of Nancy\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s psychic friends<\/a>
\nhipped her to the fact that perhaps living in a house whose street number is
\nsynonymous with The Very Warm Place Below was perhaps not the greatest thing
\n(and how long has it been since you thought about the revelations that Ron
\n& Nancy checked with astrologers before they made an important
\nforeign\/domestic policy decision, eh? Too long, right?), and they changed the
\nstreet number to 668. <\/p>\n
\npresence of thick-necked, flattopped
\nguys in Armani suits<\/a> with little earpieces in standing next to a panel van
\nwith some cheap-ass sign like \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Acme Gas Co.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d on the side, pretending to screw
\naround with a fire hydrant. Bored out of
\nmy skull and unable to reach my bookie on the cell from that location up in the
\nhills, I wandered down to talk to the Secret Service boys. <\/p>\n
\nrealize that you aren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t fooling anybody, right?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I asked. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I mean, this whole
\nthing with the van and the sign and you pretending to work \u00e2\u20ac\u201c why are you even
\nbothering? Just set up some sandbags and build a bunker.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n
\nthe SS agents, narrowing his eyes and jerking his head as a signal to his
\npartner. They both were crouching into Deadly
\nPounce mode and his partner was circling around to my left side, preparing to
\ngang-tackle me to the pavement and wrench my extremities out of their
\nsockets<\/a>. <\/p>\n
\nhands, palms out to hopefully signify peaceful intent. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m with the press, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m here working on a
\nstory up the street.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I pulled out my
\ncamera and was fumbling to find some kind of press ID. Their eyes narrowed even more, if that was
\npossible, and they kept advancing. <\/p>\n
\nphysical sensory input, when Ronnie wandered down his driveway. Oblivious to
\nthe incipient violence, he clapped the SS guys on the shoulder and grinned that
\nfamous \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Gee,
\nain\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t America just the greatest place to live\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/a> grin. The SS guys pulled back to flank Ronnie,
\nperhaps not wanting to upset his delicate disposition by stomping my narrow ass
\nflat in the street in front of him. Or
\nperhaps they knew he was coming down (he was dressed in a jogging suit and
\nsneakers) and that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s why they were so tense in the first place. Still, his presence dissipated the ugly
\nstorm clouds, and as he asked the boys how they were doing and about their
\nfamilies, etc. etc., I realized that I was in the presence of real charisma. <\/p>\n
\ncoot<\/a>. <\/p>\n
\na mohawked punk rocker for much of the 80s, fulminating in editorials against
\nthe smug right-wing destruction of social p![\"Ronald_toast\"](\"http:\/\/hardnewsinc.blogs.com\/my_weblog\/images\/ronald_toast.gif\" "\\"Ronald_toast\\"")
<\/a>rograms in favor of huge military
\nbuildups, rolling back civil rights and giving tax breaks to the wealthy. I hated Reagan. I cheered when he got shot. I hoped that he
\nwould either drop dead or get impeached for his crimes during Iran-Contra. <\/p>\n
\nhand, asking \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So what can I do for you, young fella?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I found myself in a real
\nquandary.<\/p>\n