A BUM RAP ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

There's a new Musical Loon at 7th and Montana ... and he's been sharing his talents with anyone who will listen. Known among insiders as "The Rapper," he treats every conversation like a rap. He shocked the baristas at Our Favorite Starbucks yesterday by rapping his order, then kept right on rapping as he walked to the condiments bar and eventually out the door. I missed hearing his rap, but by coincidence got what I think is a picture of his pant legs. Even they are wrapped, albeit in duct tape. If you happen to run into him, my advice is to keep your distance. He probably has a rap sheet ...!

TRUCK STOP ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Breaker one-nine, Breaker one-nine ... This is Blogmeister with an important news bulletin: An Anonymous Nincompoop backed his pick-up truck into the parking lot at 7th and Montana today and left it there, blocking the entrance, while he tried to get his bearings. "Howdy, Folks," he said, as traffic started backing-up on 7th Street, "Anybody know how I can get to San Diego?" I couldn't have been more surprised if Dionne Warwick herself jumped out the back door and sang a few bars of "Do you know the way to San Jose?" Evidently, the driver was a painter. The sign on his truck read, "Get to Know a Good Painter." I, for one, think he should get to know a good GPS system!

HOLY ROLLERS ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Eyes were popping at 7th and Montana yesterday as a pair of Holy Rollers -- two women wearing roller skates and pajamas -- breezed their way down 7th Street and into Our Favorite Starbucks. I wasn't there to witness it, but David and Kerry were on the scene and wasted no time e-mailing me a photo. "It was amazing," said Kerry, "One of them sort of heaped her hair on her head in a big pile." I guess we can be grateful the woman's hair wasn't also in rollers ...!

ANOTHER SIGN OF THE TIMES ...

It was another 'sign' of the times at a certain office building in L.A. today, as I stumbled across a sign in the lobby, right by the security desk. The last sign I found, back in November, was in the Men's Room. It warned against drinking water out of the urinals or toilets. This sign was even more provocative. "Methane Control Panel Interface Inside," it said. "Excuse me," I said to the security officer on duty, "I can't help noticing that sign beside you. Is there methane around here?" "Oh yes," he replied, "Oodles of it." "I see," I said, "So what does the control panel do?" "When the levels get too high, an alarm goes off and I can use the control panel to monitor the situation while we evacuate everyone," he replied. "Thank you. Then I know what I must do," I said, "I'm off to the men's room to drown my sorrows in a refreshing glass of toilet water ...!"

THE CAPTAIN AND SCHLEMIEL ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I think we successfully scared away another German tourist at 7th and Montana yesterday ... and all it took was a little song and dance from Rigolatte. The fun began when Rigolatte -- known for locking himself in the men's room at Our Favorite Starbucks and belting out opera tunes for hours on end -- started singing a medley of '70s hits. You haven't lived until you've heard him crooning his own version of "Love Will Keep us Together" to a container of Soy Milk. "Ach," said the tourist, standing behind me in line, "We don't get entertainment like that back home!" I looked at him quizzically and said, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean." "That guy over there," he said, pointing at Rigolatte, who by now was busy stuffing his pockets full of artificial sweetener. "Is there something unusual about him?," I asked, then corrected myself. "Oh, I see what you mean. Good God, he's wearing white shoes after Labor Day!"

MEET JOHN DOE ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet John Doe, an Anonymous Newcomer who made the scene at 7th and Montana this morning ... and did absolutely nothing extraordinary. I wouldn't have noticed him at all except that Kathy called my attention to him. "See that guy over there," she said, "He's been sitting here all week." "All week?," I asked. "All week," she said. I zoomed-in for a closer look, but there wasn't anything unusual about him. He wasn't belting out opera tunes; He wasn't pilfering Sweet 'n Low; He wasn't even throwing imaginary footballs at phantom goal posts. He was just sitting there, taking up space, reading a book. Or so it seemed. Mark my words, if he keeps showing up around here, one of these days he's going to snap. And I'll be right there with my Spycam to capture it for posterity ...!

FOOTBALL LOON ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

It was Hut, Hut, Hike at 7th and Montana this morning as an Anonymous Loon made the scene, dazed, confused and intent on treating Our Favorite Starbucks like a football stadium. "I'm going out for a pass!," he yelled as he ran through the front door. "Can you believe it ... I've made the Varsity team and I'm only 15!" Truth be told, he was 50 if he was a day. He weaved his way around the pastry case to the condiments bar screaming "I'm open, I'm open," then made a bee line for my table. "Look sharp!," he yelled, inexplicably dumping a handful of razor blades on my table for safe keeping. I avoided making eye contact, but couldn't help noticing that he was dancing wildly in place, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he was standing on hot coals. "Gotta Go!," he yelled, and then spun around, ran into the men's room and slammed the door behind him. Moments later, he emerged, only to spend the next five minutes running through Starbucks: Out the back door, in the front door, and so on. "Gotta love his style," said one witness. "Yes," I agreed, "He's certainly pathletic." Who knows, maybe he's in training for the Stuporbowl ...!

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

When it rains, it pours at 7th and Montana ... but that's not necessarily a bad thing. I was reminded of that this morning by an Anonymous Local who innocently commented on the weather as I held the door open for her. "I just love a good rain shower," she said, "Everything smells so nice and fresh." I nodded my head and took a big whiff ... but by then it was too late. We were inside and the door had closed. "Ahhhh," I said, as if to agree, "You're right. Nothing gives you a quick jolt quite like Essence of Wet Guru ...!"

ALL ABOARD THE KINDNESS BUS ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Eyes were popping at 7th and Montana this morning as a rickety, old school bus festooned with messages ranging from "One Million Acts of Kindness" to "Spread Kindness to Everyone Every Chance you Get" chugged its way past Our Favorite Starbucks and down Montana Avenue. "Yikes, that thing looks like a relic," I said as it putt-putted across 7th Street on a left wing and a prayer. "Something tells me that's not the Newt-mobile," I said. Surely, there was something familiar about the driver ... but it wasn't Mrs. Partridge. Research suggests that it was a man named Bob who is criss-crossing the country on a ten-year tour, spreading grooviness and goodwill in his wake. You can find his blog here: One Million Acts of Kindness. As Bob puts it, the "Kindness Bus is the greatest-looking vehicle on the road in the United States." I have no comment on that ... and that, my friends, is my act of kindness for today!

RIP VAN STINKEL ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet Rip van Stinkel, the latest in a long line of zombies to somnambulate their way to 7th and Montana and collapse in a heap at Our Favorite Starbucks. This one spent four hours this morning frozen in position at a table by the front door. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Rigor Mortis has set in," I said. "Go on in," said Kathy, "I'm sure you can get a close-up and he'll never notice your spycam." But I kept my distance. Something tells me this guy likes a good clash ... but maybe that's just all his plaid talking!

BACK ON BOARD ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Sorry, folks, for my prolonged absence, but I was traveling at the Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas and then I got sick ... all of which kept me away from 7th and Montana for a while. But this morning I was back on board and not a moment too soon. Rigolatte -- our Friendly Neighborhood Opera Loon -- was in rare form, mumbling incoherently in a deep baritone. I was so happy to see him I nearly pulled my chair in closer to give him a friendly wave 'hello.' But as any good cruise ship captain can tell you, that's just asking for trouble. As for Rigolatte, he had other things on his mind. "Off with you, Beelzebub!," he screamed at no one in particular. And with that, he walked right into Starbucks to line his coffers with artificial sweetener. It's good to be back ...!

EXPRESS LINE?... AT PAVILIONS

Don't you just hate it when someone tries to sneak a huge cartful of groceries through the "Express Line" at the supermarket? It happened to me this morning at Pavilions and I finally decided to do something about it. The fun began when I noticed a woman with a completely full cart at the end of the line. "Excuse me," I said, politely, "Are you waiting in the Express Line?" "You bet I am!," she said defiantly, as if daring me to comment on the fact that she had at least 25 items in her cart. I smiled and got in line behind her, but the more I thought about it, the more irritated I got. By the time she advanced to the check-out, I had formulated a plan. I decided to count out each item as she placed it on the conveyor belt, in the kind of exaggerated, 'gee-I'm-learning-my-numbers' voice one might hear on Sesame Street. "Oooooone!" ... "Twooooooo!" ... "Threeeeeee," I went on and on as she unloaded breadsticks, toiletpaper and various other items. She glared at me. I then changed tactics and instead of calling out each number, I just hummed each syllable, sort of like the teacher in the old Charlie Brown cartoons. "Mmmmm-Mmmmmm-Mmmmmm," I said when she reached 23. She was so irritated that she grabbed a handful of candies and added them to her order at the last-minute just to spite me. I machine-gunned my reply: Mmmm .... Mmmmm .... Mmmmm ... Mmmmm ... and so on. I'm sure she was hoping I'd shut-up, but when you get right down to it, what good is an Express Line if you can't Express yourself!

GOODBYE YELLOW BRICK ROAD ... AT 7TH AND MONTANA!

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet "Skip," an agile young man in his mid-twenties who astonished the crowd at 7th and Montana this morning by skipping up 7th Street as if he were Dorothy and it was a Yellow Brick Road. I don't know if he was off to see the wizard -- or even a scarecrow -- but if I only had a brain I would have set my Spycam on video. As it is, he was moving so fast the best I could do was capture this image of him receding in the distance beyond Goose Egg Park. Who knows, maybe he's British and he really had to use the bathroom. At the rate he was going, it sure as hell looked like had to skip to someone's loo ...!

WRONGO BONGO ... NEAR 7TH AND MONTANA!

The New Year arrived with a bang at 7th and Montana this morning as competition reared its ugly head. "I think Wal-Mart has now surpassed 7th and Montana," said Howard, who sent me a link to a video filled with more than two dozen snapshots of weirdos from Wal-Mart, all set to a tune by a man known as "Mr. Walmartian" who claims that "every night is Halloween" at Wal-Mart. The video -- Walmartians -- features everything from men-in-drag to women popping out of their spandex, not to mention a stray butt crack or two. Well, Mr. Walmartian, if you're out there, I'll see you your two dozen weirdos and raise you a psychopath. Meet Mr. Bong, a new loon who descended in our midst at 7th and Montana this morning like baby new year. He roller skates around the neighborhood while playing a Bongo drum and yodeling like Heidi on acid. And something tells me you won't find him at Wal-Mart ...!