Category Archives: Personal

Barbie vs. Bratz

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Mattel prevails in Bratz copyright trial

Jury rules toy maker owns original drawings for doll’s design

LOS ANGELES – Barbie and Bratz dolls are sisters, a jury has decided in a major victory to Mattel Inc., the world’s largest toymaker, in its copyright infringement lawsuit against rival MGA Entertainment Inc.

The federal jury decided Thursday that the designer of MGA’s Bratz characters conceived the idea for the dolls while working for Mattel — a ruling that could mean millions of dollars for the Barbie maker when the jury considers possible damages during a separate proceeding.

Mattel filed the lawsuit in U.S. District Court in Riverside against MGA, which began marketing the hugely popular Bratz line of sassy urban dolls in 2001. Mattel has claimed it owned the rights to the Bratz line because its creator, Carter Bryant, came up with the concept while working for El Segundo-based Mattel.(http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25727928/) Continue reading →

Terminator- The Silver Lake Chronicles

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Fox TV was filming some scenes from TERMINATOR THE SARAH CONNER CHRONICLES in my neighborhood today. Not much action, but they did Terminate all of the parking for three blocks around for two days. A major pain in the ass, but it’s an industry town, right? Just one of the prices we pay for living in Tinseltown. We still bitched to the studio people, and they gave us their usual response: “But we bring Money into the neighborhood!”. Wish I’d see some of it.

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In the Name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Dollar—The Archdiocese Sells the Self Help Graphics & Art Building to Developers

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It was like a bad B-movie with the powerful, evil conglomerate evicting the struggling protagonists—for a profit. Once a PR tool used by the Los Angeles Archdiocese to portray themselves as benevolent benefactors to Self Help Graphics & Art’s internationally acclaimed Chicano/a art center—the unmasked and crumbling religious foundation appears to no longer have a need for Self Graphics. Without warning, in a clandestine underhanded maneuver, the Archdiocese has sold the Self Help Graphics building to the odious developers who have been circling in on the east side.

Since the closure of Self Help Graphics by the then Board of Directors (June 7, 2005), Self Help Graphics has begun to rise, aided by artists, volunteers, community members and the spirit of founder Sister Karen Boccalero. Maintaining the small integral staff, getting back in the black, restoring the building to a safe functional level, protecting the art collection, reconnecting with artists, continuing the tradition of artistic center with community based cultural celebration, has been the focus of a group of diligent Self Help Graphics volunteers. It has been the visual, performance, written, crafts, culinary and musical artistic communities, as well as individual community supporters that have sustained Self Help Graphics these past years—without public funding, without grants, and without the local politicians’ help.

Over the last few years the Board of Self Help Graphics had met with the Archdiocese, the nuns from Sister Karen’s order and their representatives to strategize on a comfortable plan to transfer ownership of the building to Self Help Graphics, Inc. More like a ping-pong game—with Self Help Graphics as the ball—these entities each claimed to have no power to reach any decision with respect to the building—urging Self Help Graphic reps to ask one of the other entities—but not them. At the same time, they vehemently assured Self Help Graphics that the occupancy of the building would continue as always—there was no need to feel nervous about the relationship, if anything were to change or the building were to be up for sale, Self Help Graphics would be notified first.

Then suddenly last week–(predicted by many disillusioned community members) the call came, “The building has been sold and escrow closed—you have until December 31 to be out.” Shock, injustice, betrayal, wounded, angry and incredulous are not strong enough words to express what one feels, because you wanted to have hope in the process of the spirit, in truth, in common decency, in the respect for Sister Karen’s idealism.

As a volunteer at Self Help Graphics during the Sister Karen years, the Tomas Benitez years and post 6/7/05, I have seen the various seasons of change. Witnessing Sister Karen’s commitment to Self Help Graphics, a dedication with pressures and worries that cut her life short—I find it hard to believe that she did not make any provisions regarding the continuation of Self Help Graphics, after she was gone. Self Help Graphics was her life and her passion. Could she have also entered into a verbal agreement with her not-so Christian family—that also conveniently got forgotten? Half files, incomplete documents, select meeting minutes, empty drawers left by the pre-6/7/05 Board of Directors—also tell a story.

I don’t believe in hell, but I do believe in the dark forces that work feverously to destroy anything good. Those that work to create beauty, goodness and righteousness in the world must work doubly hard to wipe out the injustices that have taken place and at the same time take a step forward into a better humanity.

A public press conference is scheduled to take place at Self Help Graphics & Art on Friday, July 11, 2008 at 10am. Members of the Self Help Graphics Board of Directors will be present to answer questions about the future of our beloved and historical art center.

For those that are not able to attend the press conference, please know that your input and thoughts are direly needed. For updates on upcoming actions, please keep checking on the Self Help Graphics website at www.selfhelpgraphics.com

getting kicked in the dark….

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Went to the movies, doesn’t matter where or what I saw. Paid our $16.50, child and I.

Sat down in the dark, didn’t notice who was behind us. Soon we would know. The little voices, chatting. Reading out loud the words of the signs flashing on the screen, maybe to show off that they could read. Got kicked.

My seat was pulled back, kick. I turned to see and there are two in one seat in two different seats, squirming for comfort. 4 kids in two seats. My daughter’s seat was kicked.

I turned backed to see the film. Giggles, little hand brushed my hair, kid walking behind me.

I hear “Tienes que ir al ba~o”? Soon a bunch of little feet, and legs bumping my seat march out the row 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and others were still sitting.

When they came back I looked to see how many all together, 10 kids and one tired looking mother. Aunt? Naw. They were too well behaved, relatively speaking, for her to have been anyone other than mom.

How much did it cost for her to bring all her kids or kids and cousins to the movie this day, any day?

I’ll take the kicks. I hope they remember these days full of familia fun, when they would all go to the movies together and have a good time. No need to remember a grumpy man telling them not to kick to the seat. Well at least not me.

two years.

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Almost two years have passed since I moved to Los Angeles. When I decided to make the move, I’d only been to L.A. once—back in 2002 for a wedding. Before that, my knowledge of the city was based on information from movies, songs, books I’d read in Chicana/o and Asian American Studies classes, and the after-dinner-stories told by my Papá and Grandpa.

“There’s a lot of Taos people in Los Angeles,” my grandpa still reminds me, whenever L.A. comes up, which is often. “A lot of our people over there, New Mexico people.” During WWII, my grandpa had been in Los Angeles briefly before his troop was shipped to Burma. According to his story, he was among the troops ordered to beat Mexican youth who wore zoot suits. It was during one of the raids that he was walking down the street when someone called his name. “Hey, primo! What say?” “Nothing, primo. Let’s have a beer!” I guess he decided to have a beer with his cousin and some other folks he knew from home, instead of joining the riots. He told me later that he knew he was caught in a strange position, one that he didn’t agree with—a Chicano soldier. I still wonder what it must have been like for him in that moment.

Over 25 years later, my 22-year-old father came to Los Angeles, wanting to experience new places. He lived in Lincoln Heights and drove an ambulance at night. His favorite memory was of walking from Union Station after work in the morning and grabbing breakfast at a taquería near the placita. He only stayed in L.A. for a year or so before moving back home to New Mexico. That was in the late ‘60s. Even though he hasn’t been to Los Angeles since, I think he imagines it as if it hasn’t changed.

When I last suggested that I should take a train back from Albuquerque, my papá protested. “That area around Union Station is not safe for young ladies,” he’d said…or something like that. Actually, it’s not just Union Station that he thinks is “unsafe for young ladies,” it’s all of Los Angeles. He thought the same thing when I’d moved to NYC several years ago. If he could have his way, I’d live in Albuquerque, which is actually just as (un)safe as Los Angeles, only more familiar. This is clearly a gender issue–obviously, he wouldn’t be concerned if it were one of mis manitos living out here. He forgets that Union Station and the surrounding area (100 years ago)–the site of my dissertation research—is what brought me to Los Angeles in the first place. And I wanted to get to know and become a part of the communities that live in the legacies of the people whose lives I study.

I knew four people in L.A when mi manito and I moved my stuff into my new apartment. Friends told me it was a “brave” move—maybe it was just crazy. I remember thinking, “if I hate it here, I can always pack up and go home.” I can’t front, those first few months really sucked. L.A. is a difficult place to be a newcomer. Now, after two years spent meeting new folks and exploring in the city—in person and amid dusty papers in multiple libraries—it has become more and more familiar. And I like it here.

Someone recently asked me whether I could finally call L.A. my “home.” And I surprised myself when I thought, there’s nowhere else I’d rather live right now…. But on the real, though? I’m not sure I can really call it “home” until I find some of the New Mexico gente my grandpa keeps talking about, who know how to make a great bowl of green chile. If you know some, hook this nuevomexicana up!

Memories Of A Lost Boulevard: THE GARMAR THEATER

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Memories of a Lost Boulevard Series, A Tribute to Whittier Boulevard

Whittier Boulevard Movie Theaters, Part 2.

THE GARMAR THEATER

2325 Whittier Blvd., Montebello, CA

As I was speaking to someone the other day about this lost Montebello movie house, A long time resident who was standing within earshot came up and sighed; “The Garmar! I loved that Show! If you couldn’t afford the Golden Gate, you couldn’t afford the Garmar! Continue reading →

Dad I’m living in a SRO, but it’s really cool. Don’t be mad ok?

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But actually calling it a SRO is a bit negative. It’s a very small studio or maybe if you were really optimistic a very small loft (since loft seems to mean now apartment with no walls.)

I sublet a portion of my studio in Boyle Heights that I was illegally living in and I’m now using that income to pay for me to live at the Rosslyn.

Is that welfare? Is that capitalism? I don’t know it’s maybe a mixture of both.

I missed that Sex in the City gene of loving to shop and waste money (hey I thought that show was supposed to be satire…) To me paying rent is a waste of money, which means you should pay the least amount of rent that you can get away with.

In college when I moved out of the dorms I lived on Sunset and Fairfax directly across the street from the Virgin Megastore for four hundred dollars a month. Yes four hundred dollars!!!

That was one of my most proud achievements as a college student. I would invite people over and go, “Guess how much I pay?”

My old friends have grown tired of this game and always say thing like “Two dollars.”

Such jerks. That destroys the whole beauty of the game.

I’m currently wearing a coat that costs me five dollars. There is this great store by the Hammer, everything is five dollars.

In LA no one admires thrifty people.

I’m the cheapest most glamorous woman in the world.

I had a friend who used to brag about how she paid one million dollars to live in Mar Vista. I always thought that was a horrible story.

My parents are working class stock. I remember when applying to college my dad was actually very proud of the fact that he had worked so much over-time that I no longer qualified for need based financial aid.
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Memories Of A Lost Boulevard: The Golden Gate Theater

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Memories of A Lost Boulevard, A Tribute To Whittier Boulevard

Whittier Boulevard Movie Theaters, Part 1.

 

 THE GOLDEN GATE THEATER

5176 Whittier Blvd. & Atlantic Avenue

East Los Angeles, CA.

Oh, what a wonderful place it was! Growing up, I had inherited my Dad’s passion for cinema and so going to the movies was for me, a much anticipated and sublime experience. We were a movie going family and I often indulged my cinema hunger by visiting all of my neighborhood theaters as often as I could. Among those cherished trips, my visits to the Golden Gate Theater stand out as the most treasured. The sheer joy of going to that temple of flickering images began as you stepped from the sidewalk….

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“The Vatos That Time Forgot!”

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While I was enjoying SOLEDADENMASA‘s last post, I was inspired to this pendejada.

For some time, I’ve noticed a weird Chicano Phenomenon. Through my explorations of media like Lowrider Magazine, Myspace, Music Videos, Chicano Cable Shows, etc., I’ve discovered that in regions outside of So. Cal, like say, up Norte (Fresno, Sacramento) and particularly in other states (Texas, Arizona) it’s like:
“The Vatos That Time Forgot”. I mean, image wise, the Chicano homies & hainas appear to be about 20 yrs. behind the current SoCal look. It appears that the Vato look has evolved here in L.A. over the years, but outside of here it’s still predominantly the Pendletons-khakis and bandanas “Retro-Homie” look for the guys & girls in that scene. Is it just me or has anyone else noticed this?
Also, It almost seems that socially & politically they are only recently going through the growing pains we did here in the 70s-80’s. Could it be that the demographic is finally reaching critical mass in other places and is only now mirroring the SoCal Chicano (r)evolution of previous generations? That would mean that we here were, to some great degree, the pioneers & prototypes for the American Chicano model in this country, even going back to the Pachuco days. That’s Cool!

tangent/addendum-I give those older Chicano generations all the respect they deserve. They had to forge a hard fought path in establishing an identity within a society that wasn’t near as accommodating or sympathetic as we have today, and they did it on Huevos alone. Here’s to you! Salúd Carnales!

¿Cómo están?

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Hello everyone!! I just wanted to introduce my self to all you LA East side readers and authors. My friends call me Lia or my swapmeet slash blog name is Doña Junta. I also post up with my elote carrito over on my blog st Swapmeet Chronicles

Before I get into blogging about the LA stilo and since I am new here, I wanted to share with you  all a few of my personal pictures from my  recent trip to Zacatecas, Mexico. It was my first time going back after 16 years, so I was super excited to actually appreciate the culture and not whine like I did the the last time I went as a kid. It was definitely soo much better as an adult and I hope to go back again soon!

I went to the little town of Tepechitlan, Zacatecas it is about 3 hours from the  city of Guadalajara. Both my mom and pops came from that same town but different ranches in the vicinity.

Welcome

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AGUAS, GUEY!!!

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…I read this item today from the Associated Press………

Hispanics dying on job at higher rates than others

By MIKE STOBBE (AP Medical Writer)
From Associated Press

June 05, 2008 11:46 AM EST

ATLANTA – Hispanic workers die at higher rates than other laborers, with 1 in 3 of these deaths occurring in the construction industry, a government study reported Thursday.

Hispanics tend to hold more high-risk jobs than those in other racial groups, but language and literacy barriers and poor training and supervision may also be factors, researchers said. The leading causes of death in recent years have been falls and highway-related accidents.

“Many of the Hispanic workers in construction are undocumented, and many of those who are recently arrived do face a language barrier,” said Rakesh Kochhar, associated director for research at the Pew Hispanic Center. “A language barrier hinders understanding of a job, or the risks associated with it, or safety precautions,” said Kochhar, who was not part of the new study”.

 

Hey, I would like to think that our Non-English speaking Paisano workers don’t need translated warnings such as: “No Atraviese el Freeway Mientras Vienen Carros”, or “No Se Tiren De La Azotea” in order to avoid accidents. I also don’t believe that a lack of English literacy equals a lack of common sense. I like to think that these guys have as much good sense and sufficient work skills & survival instincts as anyone else. Perhaps there’s just greater numbers of Non-English speaking workforce out there today with a greater exposure to hazardous working conditions? Or, more conspiratorily, perhaps worksite management isn’t as vigilant to all safety guidelines when these hard working, but non-english speaking, paisas are on the job? Who Knows? I just think that these workers deserve a little more credit than this study by some East Coast researchers would imply.

article: http://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/

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