Posted in Uncategorized on December 11, 2009 by kilroyrogers

Drunken slobs on Paycheck Fridays at the oft-lampooned LA Police Academy, resulting in the DUI death of a young motorcycle officer, wrapping his bike around a post.

LAPD sting operations against gay men in the bushes bordering Weho. The Moreno Valley flack jacket and armed invasion of black-owned barber shops ostensibly for licensing violations. Gay bar patrons harassed and beaten. A homeless women armed with only a screwdriver and obviously mentally disturbed shot like carnival target.

I hereby volunteer to change the course and direction of my colorful life for a new goal:

Teaching sensitivity to men and women in uniform. Not in Iraq or Afghanistan, but in the streets and cars and bedrooms of America, where overzealous and under-trained cops seem to overreact more often than not.

I was recently able to pose a question to new LAPD CHIEF CHARLIE BECK about the above referenced entrapment of gay men, and how LAPD jut didn’t get it. Neither did the West Hollywood Sheriff’s Department, I opined, until we throttled them a bit and got some response…Beck pledged to work toward interagency cooperation, and gosh, I think he really means it. There’s no reason that these organizations aren’t all on the same big, fat, recycled page, the page with large typeface easy to read by all with no subtext and no connotations. Just the facts, ma’am and those facts are that well, let’s not shoot to kill every sing time, or get the wrong address in a raid, or assume guilt based on skin color or location, among other obvious factors.

Imagine, for a moment, you are a black man, established in the

African American community, and bursting in your doorway, ready to haul you off to the hoosegow. The era of water cannons and lynching might well reside in the memory banks of this barber: certainly the history of the struggle is not forgotten.

Perhaps it would be wise to enter with the Board of Barbering and Cosmetology inspectors, ask to see the requisite paperwork, and then act accordingly. I know, that gleaming black leather, shiny firearms and polished badge make it hard to resist leaning on people and using that might. That’s where the training comes into play. That’s where Chief Beck’s Community Policing policy comes into play. Sorry, Gates, it is broke and we do have to fix it. You’re old school and it’s a new era, an era where we work together for the common good, not uncommon greed and power. See you in time for Police Academy 8, or whatever number they’re up to. In this one, there’s less to laugh at, and more to laugh with.

A Poem

Posted in Uncategorized on October 22, 2009 by kilroyrogers

Route 66 Sunday Morning 106 Degrees

The Ford door flies open propelled

massive greasy head of hair falls out

head smashed tight onto the gravel

door swings back hits head hard

settles against ear squeal ringing

aching jaw just cracked with fist

of crazed shirtless tattooed driver

raw anger alive in clenched form

shot with unnerving force


brown greasy bag hits pavement

shatters – a muffled smash

hands yank at jeans

in pockets like a hundred wired snakes

few crumpled bills, not ten dollars

snatched as desert water, gone, gone

boot push on crotch as shoulders fall from ford

next rump then legs and a final

kick from a scuffed heel

dust tires screeching silence

hot desert all around waiting

for the buzzard dance

boots akimbo

Patti Has The POWER

Posted in Ellie Greenwich, Horses, Michael Jackson, One Fifth, Patti Smith, Pier, rock n roll, Santa Monica, Winston Watson on September 7, 2009 by kilroyrogers

Patti Smith. The Santa Monica Pier. It seems a hundred years ago I bought Horses, and it was the hundredth anniversary of the pier. Kismet! I raced from Wilshire and 6th to the pier, passing bossa nova and musak™ emanating from restaurant to cafe, following the herd through the darkness punctuated with tasteful lighting, across Ocean Avenue and up to the pier entry, where strains of Michael Jackson swamped the atmosphere, drowning out all else. Turn a corner and BOOM it was Patti Smith onstage, with Lenny Kaye going crazy, and Flea on bass. Flea on bass!

It was all there: the cusp of a full moon, referenced with revere by Patti, a Pagan Goddess of the highest order. Thundering chords broke the night, Pissing in a River, now realized as a true anthemic rock classic; PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER, a commercial hit and rad sentiment; a great spoken word diatribe on life in Venice and such; great song after great song. Then it came, “Suddenly, Johnny gets the feeling, he’s surrounded by horses, horses, running in from all directions…”
I was hearing my favorite album cut live. Chills, everywhere, racing through the crowd like H1N1, a spasmic waves of white people hippie beach culture euphoria filling the over capacity crowd with a coalescing strength that built and built JESUS DIED FOR SOMEBODY’S SINS BUT NOT MINE!!!

Ellie Greenwich, the amazing songwriter of the 60’s-70’s was an inspiration for Patti, and she sang a song of hers for the encore.

Magic. Some artists never age, never become irrelevant. Patti Smith was an iconoclast in the seventies, and she’s one still. I hung out with her briefly at ONE FIFTH in NYC back in the day, and it was awesome. She was totally unique. I though I was. We got along great. Ah, those days. Winston Watson, my pal hung out on tour with the band for weeks and weeks and loved it. Ah, rock n roll. Nothing like it. Power to the People!!

photo Matt Reno



Spectacle. Like the Follies Bergere school of spectacle. A spectacular. In the grand tradition of LIBERACE, NINA HAGEN, SARAH BRIGHTMAN , Genesis Lamb Lies Down era Peter Gabriel,

Diamanda Galás and a slew of shamen and wizards throughout history, GRACE JONES CONQUERED THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL and made us all slaves to her rhythm. Playing dynamic new tracks from the current album HURRICANE, Ms. Jones blew the roof off the-oh, wait, THERE IS NO ROOF, just the stars above and a diva. To hear GRACE JONES live, singing LA VIE EN ROSE without a DAT machine but with an actual band, was magnifique.
Having booked Ms. Jones in the disco days, it’s a treasure to see and hear her still in the best of form. I remember her rider in the heady days requested the usual diva excess- white orchids, a slew of fine terry towels, and, written in the actual fax, an eight ball of blow for Ms. J and a gram for each member of her entourage. Ah, the disco days.
I partied with ANDY WARHOL AND GRACE JONES at the LIMELIGHT ATLANTA where she was in her dominatrix mode, men on dog collars and all fours at her feet. Whip in hand. EXCELLENT.
When I lived in Paris, I’d call GRACE and MASSIMO and inevitably her son Paulo would pick up, and try to get me to sign him instead to perform. Hehe. He’s the son of artist Jean Paul Goude.
Back to the show. KCRW put together a fine evening, and JOSELLE GILVEZAN (photography for this blog post) and hubby DAN GILVEZAN made for excellent company. Joselle saw GRACE with me at the SPECTRUM DISCO in GAINESVILLE, FLORIDA back in the “DO OR DIE” era. LONG LONG HISTORY there…

Grace’s costumes were HIGH ART, designed by Eiko Ishioka and changed out for each song, with witty banter from the diva backstage while changing…the only bummer being not enough time to hear 3-4 more tracks from her near exhaustive repertoire of classic dance tracks. Her work was always edgy, and it’s become even more so in the decades between albums. Corporate Cannibal was spectacular as a video clip on the screens…
If you missed the show, you missed a treasured moment in history. Josephine Baker would be smiling down at Grace and offering her props for a life well done. BRAVA!!


Posted in Ahmadinejad, Iran, Islam, Mousavi, SAVAK, Tehran, Tweets on June 17, 2009 by kilroyrogers

What to make of this IRANIAN REVOLUTION? Or is it that…a country with a majority of its population under the age of twenty-five might not be all enamored with the old folks running the show. Is it that the youth of Iran

all twittered and cell phoned and texted and netted are yearning for a call to freedom, of personal freedom to live a life unhindered by Islamic Fundamentalism? Is it that non-Islamic minorities in Iran have no voice? Is it that the largely secular youth-not the fanatic Muslim youth of film reel lore-want to 

step into the 21st Century

MAINSTREAM U.S. PRESS has been cautious to play down claims of voter fraud and to state that the MIRACLE OF AHMADINEJAD‘S REELECTION is somehow considered credibly by a bulk of Iran’s population as indeed a miracle (NYT) yet not elaborating that the true cause is in fact most likely fraud, especially since the opposition candidate lost in his hometown of Tabriz. Candidate Mousavi, a conservative moderate has a massive following. , All “liberal” candidates were purged from running for office-and the threat of assassination has hung over Mousavi‘s head, even though the current regime has a stated interest in keeping him alive. Should he be killed, riots would inevitably ensue. The dreaded adjunct to the regular secret police has shot and killed protesters in the streets.

The Sorrow of the Pretty

Posted in ABBA, Beatles, Billion Dollars, Dhani Harrison, Led Zeppelin, Lennon, Paul McCartney, Pink Floyd on June 9, 2009 by kilroyrogers

Seems like there should be a solemn obligation among the liberal and wealthy to donate massively to charitable causes. The results are inarguable. Look, for example, at the great work done by the JIMMY CARTER groups in virtually eliminating guinea worm- a crippling, debilitating water born parasite that no longer plagues great swaths of people. Look at ERIC CLAPTON‘s substance abuse clinic in the Bahamas. Or BRANGELINA‘s efforts  to restore housing in post-KATRINA NEW ORLEANS. Why, then don’t the BEATLES reunite with DHANI HARRISON and SEAN LENNON for a world tour of one year duration, with all profits to benefit the impoverished in third world countries, with expenses coming out of SIR PAUL’s BILLIONS of dollars? Or the selfish asses ABBA, who were offered another BILLION DOLLARS to get off their fat asses, bite the animosity bullet and take six months to please their fans and do a great service to the world? Their personal issues transcend the spirit of cooperation for the worthiest of causes- eliminating human suffering? Or is it just their fat asses are unstageworthy? I have an excellent trainer they could work with. Ditto LED ZEPPELIN.  Imagine this tour:



I’d be so the roadie for that show. You know what? I’d take a year off too and work for free, 
after all, IT’S FOR A GOOD CAUSE!!!!!!!

L.A. Thunder

Posted in Johnny Thunders, June Gloom, L.A., los angeles, rain, Skiing, Sunset Boulevard on June 3, 2009 by kilroyrogers

Seems ODD to see actual weather in L.A.

Clouds, even THUNDER & LIGHTNING  are the order of the day. 
Between the coffee, the clouds and the indelible image of the Hamburgler, er 
DICK CHENEY planted forever like a twisted virus in my line of sight, 
the classic FUNK has taken hold, countered by an ebullience that ebbs and wanes like a tide, 
washing over me and taking the edge off the grim environs.
I ponder often what life would be like in a different climate than Southern California. 
I remember what it has been like in the past. 
Freezing cold winters in Bavaria, skiing shirtless in the sunshine in Telluride or Steamboat Springs, powder washing over abs and nipples at full attention…
…or the abject sorrow of damp melancholy permeating Seattle, 
an endless mist coercing introspection and loneliness. 
This day in L.A. shall pass, as the June Gloom dissipates and the brilliant sunshine bursts forth in a steady ray of warm joy that encompasses all. The gigantic ficus trees, an unlikely cousin of the apartment variety soars skyward to embrace the sun, filled with starlings and a microkingdom of nature’s beauty. The towering palms sway in the breeze over Sunset Boulevard, dropping the occasional massive frond with a crack and whoosh onto the unsuspecting passersby or parked cars.
As the seeming shift from Mediterranean arid climate to full on desert seems to take hold here in the southland, the long days seem even drier and hotter than before. Reservoirs run low, creeks dry up and the delicate tropical plantings demand their unfair share of the precious resource. Maybe a day or two of overcast skies isn’t such a bad thing after all.