 Good morning and welcome to the California edition of CCB. Cousin Fred and I are here in Los Angeles to cover the presidential campaign as it heads toward the all-important California primary next Tuesday.
It’s been a couple of really wild days here in the Golden State, little of which actually had anything to do with the campaign we’re supposed to be covering for Southern Living magazine. It all started when we tried to check-in at the Beverly Hilton hotel on Wednesday…and guess what? There was no reservation in my name. I tried Southern Living…nothing. It was then that I realized that we still didn’t have the name of our handler the magazine sent along to keep an eye on us. Having traveled all the way to L.A. from The Compound, there was little chance I was going to give up. So we plopped ourselves down in the lobby of the hotel, figuring something would happen. It did. After about two hours, the hotel manager called the police. But, not before Cousin Fred and I spotted a dozen “stars” in the hotel. There was that guy who I think played on a series back in the 90’s that I can’t remember the name of – Cousin Fred said he played the brother of that woman with the really dark hair. Cousin Fred would know these things. And then we saw that woman who had her own show that only ran for half a season before the network cancelled it. Oh, and there was the guy who had his own network super late-night talk show that no guests could stay awake long enough to show up for. So, no A-listers…I think Johnny Depp is still in Cannes picking fights with club bouncers and swigging champagne from the bottle with a mystery woman. The police were nice enough I suppose. There were six total that showed up. I’m guessing the management gives every cop that shows up to roust people out of the lobby, a coupon for a free breakfast. All with body-cams with a flashing LED light that I presume indicated they were switched on. Two held cans of pepper spray, the other four Tasers. The brutish big one with the most stuff on his uniform kept asking politely for us to step outside. No way was I doing that. They get you outside they have an easy target without collateral damage to any real stars. I kept trying to tell them that we were with Southern Living magazine and in town to cover the primary. One of the young cops, upon hearing of our employer, suggested that perhaps we should have turned left at Tupelo rather than right. I was about to respond with a comment that would likely have caused me to be Tazed when suddenly we heard a voice from across the lobby holler out, “Freddy, Freddy!” All eight of us turn to look in the direction of the voice. It was Gigi, The Trump’s steadfast hairdresser. Gadzooks! “The Trump must be staying here,” I thought! That’s when I knew I wasn’t leaving. Gigi was coming toward us. The cops all looked at the manager who nodded and they backed away from us. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy to claim Cousin Fred as blood as I was at that moment. The herd of law moved toward the exit, grumbling the entire way. Guess they didn’t get their free breakfast coupons since they didn’t actually roust anyone. I recall thinking that if that lunatic (The Trump) actually manages to get elected, Cousin Fred and I will have entrée into the bowels of the Oval Office. This could be big! As Cousin Fred and Gigi stood there in the lobby getting to know one another again. I saw a young woman talking to someone at the front desk. She was neatly dressed in a business suit…nothing fancy mind you…typical off the rack kind of wear, but neat looking. The desk clerk pointed to us and she whirled and walked over to me. She introduced herself as Brooklynn Hodensack from Southern Living. To my great surprise and delight, she told me that we were all staying in a three-bedroom suite there in the hotel. She then made the mistake of asking me what I would need to write the articles for Southern Living. Cousin Fred and I had already prepared for this question. He broke his embrace with Gigi and handed me a folded piece of paper that contained the list we had worked on while driving to California. I read from the list: six 60-inch TV’s (LED) so we can monitor all of the networks and the news channels; a complete IT network with a large format color laser printer and a dedicated fiber optic circuit; a case of Jack Daniel’s; two cases of Stoli; 12 jars of jalapeno-stuffed olives; 12 cases of assorted California wines; and six cases of Corona Light beer (breakfast). She took the list and never blinked. She responded with, “Done!” I’m beginning to like Southern Living magazine! That was Wednesday. Yesterday, we made the trek to San Diego to hear the Queen of the Unindicted’s much ballyhooed “foreign policy” speech that really turned into nothing more than her bashing The Trump for 33 minutes. It was fun to listen to though. She had her vetted crowd whipped into a frenzy. Rumor had that The Curmudgeon was lurking around back stage. Who knows? We never saw him. It’s a big state. We’ve put feelers out to The Curmudgeon’s people. I want an exclusive interview sometime over the weekend. While driving back to L.A. yesterday, we heard over the radio that The Trump finally landed Paul Ryan’s endorsement. Judas priest…took long enough. Guess the GOP elite finally ran out of options and gave Ryan the nod. The same radio broadcast discussed a new poll that says the Queen of the Unindicted and The Trump are pretty much neck and neck. I tell you folks, we’re sliding downhill on a sled without runners…it’s going to start tumbling anytime now. Obviously, the center of the universe media-wise is California right now. Be on the lookout for a special weekend edition of CCB. More to come! Comments are closed.
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