The eve of the Eve before Christmas and I got a little creative. I’d like to share it with you, maybe “Outside Of Los Angeles” will  be published as a book some day. Tough to preach right now but do try to kill that debt. Earn more. Spend less. Stay physical. Save more. Invest only after you’ve educated yourself and find the right vehicle to park your money in. Do it. Do it again. And do it again.

“Brian The Autograph King made a lot of enemies during his thirty-year career in this town. That sack of monkey shit would have made enemies anywhere. It’s only a matter of time for all of us but this guy made it his business to get fucked sooner than later. He knocked up some gal in Arizona when he was seventeen and split thinking that he could walk into a movie studio and make shit happen. He operated at the bottom of the barrel getting jobs as an extra so he could eat for free. Brian had no clue when it came to etiquette, he would walk right up to the lead actors and start asking them stupid shit like where they got there hair done or if they could recommend a financial advisor. People just getting out of jail are encouraged by parole officers to get jobs as extras. One day he pushed his luck too far by asking an actress for her number between takes and found himself being led out a side gate by studio security. He would’ve been fine if he’d kept his mouth shut but he was an asshole so he ended up landing on the sidewalk nose-first. Took him almost twenty minutes to get to his feet when that door came flying open again and he almost got taken out by a former Rams defensive end that was working on a cop show. The guy was immediately swarmed by people waving headshots asking for an autograph. The dude signed only one headshot before he jumped into a waiting car and Brian overheard someone saying they could get a hundred bucks for it. Boom, that scumbag was hooked. Wait around and get somebody to sign something and then sell it for a hundred bucks? Perfect gig for a pathetic looking fat fuck. So he started hanging out by the side gates of the studios after lunch. At four he’d head over to a couple of bars on Santa Monica that were popular with the big stars. Seven o’clock he’d move up to the Sunset Strip to catch the dinner crowd. Two in the morning he’d be waiting outside the clubs to catch the heavy partiers heading home. He built up a collection of autographs, things were going alright, and then one night he ran his mouth and everything changed. Brian was posted up at the rear exit of Chasen’s on Sunset. Rumor was that a couple of Academy Award winners were inside and Brian wanted a piece. He waited with the other scumbags and tried to shoulder his way in front when the couple came out the back door but he wasn’t fast enough to get an autograph. They were almost in their car when out of nowhere Brian calls one of them a cunt. Dude was not only an Academy Award winner but he was also a Marine in his younger days and he caught Brian in the temple with a spinning back fist. That bag of shit went right down on the pavement and not a soul in the entire city thought the Academy Award winner was out of line. Trouble was that the whole thing was caught on video. Brian put his dick in an attorney’s pocket and settled out of court. Then that became Brian’s scam- provoke someone into hitting him on camera and then settle out of court. He did alright for a year or two and then people got wise. He had to hire homeless and runaway kids to try to get autographs since people were on the lookout for him. Paid them maybe ten bucks a day. The crazy thing about autographs was that there really wasn’t a way to authenticate them at the time of sale unless you took them to an expert…Brian became that expert. He had actually built a reputation as the preeminent autograph collector and that’s when he started calling himself The Autograph King. More than half of the shit he sold was bogus but nobody doubted the authenticity. He got into trouble when he sold a fake Michael Jackson autograph to a Chinese collector. It was just like the old west, the Chinese collector put money on the street and made it clear that whoever could deliver Brian to him would receive one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in cash. Crews from Oakland, San Francisco, and San Diego descended on Los Angeles looking for him. He was good at getting gone, stayed that way for almost three months. Crips out of Oakland were the ones that found him in Arizona. The bag of shit was at a Sonic drive-in off the 8 in Yuma. He would have made it in one piece to face the Chinese collector if he hadn’t a started throwing “nigger” around. That got him shot right in the stomach, which was so big that when the .38 ripped through the abdominal wall the muscle kept tearing and his guts spilled right out onto the gas and brake pedals. The Crips took a minute to eat his burger, fries, and shake and then put two right into his face. Talk shit get hit, rings true even three hundred miles outside of Los Angeles.”

Paul Zies

dirtyandmean.com

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