Don’t go to L.A.

Every time I go back, I like it less, and I never liked it much to begin with. Someone once said of Los Angeles “It’s a nice place to live, but I wouldn’t want to visit.” Well, he got it half right. I can’t think of a less appealing place to exist, whether it’s Santa Monica, Long Beach, or what passes for a Downtown.

Like a huge, dirty suburb, nothing is “original” in that place. It was built to be the city it is, a city for cars to go in straight lines forever, a city to go to a dirty beach and be afraid to touch the ocean, a city with no resources but its population’s inexhaustible supply of self-delusion.

The air is bad, the water is bad, the architecture is bad, the coffee is bad, and the people, while not bad, are the same as everywhere else: not good.

I’m sorry if I’m insulting all the people I know and care about who live or lived in that city, but good lord, you’re the exceptions and you need to get the hell out of there.