The one thing that is really amazing about this Chris Dorner manhunt is how much the citizens of Los Angeles are against the LAPD.

I talked to my mother Sunday night, and we talked about this. Back in the day she owned a liquor store on the border of Long Beach and Compton, and when the LA Riots exploded she was very much pro LAPD. Fortunately she also got along with the residents of the neighborhood, so they helped protect her store by keeping vigil on the roof with their various assault weapons. See? That’s love.

Fast forward to Sunday, and imagine my surprise when she told me she was a Dorner fan.

Okay, maybe “fan” is an exaggeration. But she made it clear that she thinks the LAPD is awful. It’s amazing what a little over 20 years can do to one’s outlook.

But my mother is not the only one with that sentiment. The picture above shows the amount of antipathy towards the LAPD people are showing. There are bumper stickers, makeshift signs on various cars, t-shirts.

And for once it’s not only the black community against the LAPD. It’s everyone. White, Asian, Latin, Eskimo.

Hours after Dorner’s last shots and victims, the LAPD down in Torrance shot around 50 rounds into a truck that was neither the make nor model of Dorner’s 2005 Nissan Titan early Thursday morning. Obviously instead of a 33-year old, six-foot 270-pound black man, they found two tiny Mexican LA Times delivery ladies.

The septuagenarian mother suffered two bullets to her back while her 40-something daughter had a minor wound to her finger. They have since lawyered up, and the LAPD trying to save face offered them a new truck.

Soon after and very nearby another truck, also neither the make nor model of Dorner’s truck, was rammed by the Torrance Police Department causing it to spin around and shot at. Again, to no one’s surprise, the driver was not Dorner. Instead it was a skinny white man looking to go surfing before work. He was not injured.

For the most part, people in Southern California are not afraid of Dorner. People are more afraid of the police who in their state of panic and fear have dispensed of protocol and decided to have a shoot-first policy despite martial law not being declared.

On Sunday the City of LA announced a $1 million reward for the capture and successful prosecution of Dorner. Hours later, the cops shut down a Lowes in Northridge. Why the hell would anyone willingly go to Northridge? I’ve never stepped foot in Northridge, and I’ve lived in Southern California for most of my life.

I can already picture the racial profiling gone mad, people desperate for the cash to turn in innocent people for the cops desperate to regain control.

One thing LAPD chief Charlie Beck said was that he wanted the reign of terror to come to an end. Hate to break it to him, but most of the terrorizing of the citizens was done by his agency not Dorner.

But the terror within the LAPD is palpable. The terror of them not having control in this situation, of them being the hunted has them dispensing with protocol and regressing to their primal self: the instinct of just shooting everything in sight, and fuck the consequences.

It has been entertaining watching the police stumble over their own footsteps during this manhunt. But the oddest and perhaps scariest is all the fan groups that have sprung up. One can agree with Dorner that he might have been wronged, that the LAPD is still riddled with corruption, that NRA president Wayne LaPierre can go fuck himself.

But Dorner has killed three people. He’s a murderer. I have a hard time putting anyone on a pedestal, but I sure as hell am not going to take my moral cues from a murderer.

I’m interested to see how this is going to end. Unfortunately I’m starting my road trip to Louisiana on Friday, so I might miss a thing or two.

Contrary to popular belief, it’s not always sunny and 72 degrees in Los Angeles. Because those are the conditions we expect in living in Southern California, whenever that stasis is upset we freak out. Now a bunch of people around the country make fun of us for freaking out when the temperature dips below 60 degrees or a couple of drops of rain fall from the sky.

Which is fine. If that means I spend more than 300 days in sunny warm weather, I’m okay with it. Besides, how many dumb asses will be out and about in the Nor’easter on the East Coast tonight?

The weather forecast the last few days here in Los Angeles has been for a cold weather system to drop in with not a lot of rain. So I was expecting some sprinkles and dampness and minor inconveniences.

When I woke up this morning, the sun was out with ominous clouds in the distance. Right at 10 a.m. boom. The heavens unleashed a downpour I haven’t seen in a couple of years. And with it was some hail which you see above. Sure I’ve been through worse hail storms, but it’s not a common occurrence here.

30 minutes after the downpour the rain and hail stopped, the sun peeked out of the clouds and thunder was heard from a distance. It’s going to be a fun weather day here in LA.

Here in Southern California, we’re caught up in this manhunt for former LAPD officer Chris Dorner who is going on a killing spree which has taken the life of a police officer in Riverside County. He released a manifesto which gives his reasons for doing this, although it is in dire need of an editor.

I’m hoping he is caught dead or alive soon.

There, the preliminaries are done.

Early in the morning here in the South Bay in Torrance, cops were keeping a lookout over a person on Dorner’s potential target list. A vehicle possibly matching Dorner’s vehicle, a dark Nissan Titan, was found.

No details have been given, but the results were as clear as day. Anywhere between 20 to 30 rounds were fired at the truck. It turns out the truck was a Toyota Highlander. Oops. And it turns out the driver was not a 6-foot, 270-pound 30-something black man. The driver and the passenger were two little old Asian ladies delivering newspapers. One was hit in the hand and the other in the back. Double-oops.

Fortunately both will be okay.

So I have a couple of questions. Was any attempt made to make sure the two little old Asian ladies were not Dorner? Was any attempt made to make sure their was not a Nissan Titan, a vehicle description known by police at that time? Were they under shoot-first orders, and if so, why?

I get that it was dark outside. I get there are a lot of emotions involved since Dorner has killed at least one police officer. But was this necessary?

I don’t know if I should be shocked at this shoot-first mentality. After all the Obama administration is now justifying killing American citizens abroad with little more than a suspicion they might be involved in terrorist activities. Hell, W only captured, detained and tortured them.

So if they can shoot and kill first before asking questions, why not the LAPD? Why not the Torrance PD?

Tony Pierce said he wanted to see more lists, so here this is: a list of the best PJ Harvey albums in ascending order. This excludes her collaborations with John Parrish and compilations.

8. Uh Huh Her (2004).

This was definitely a let down. It was billed as a return to the rawness of Rid of Me and Dry. It was definitely stripped down without the refinements of her previous albums. But it didn’t really strike a particular chord with anything.

7. Let England Shake (2011).

A lot of people liked this album. I thought it was nothing more than Renaissance Faire music. It won oodles of awards. I didn’t get it.

6. White Chalk (2007).

Now on to the albums I liked. This was Polly getting very experimental. Sure there were misses on this album, but what worked worked really well. Take this video of her performance of “The Mountain”, the first thing I heard of this album:

Who doesn’t love the Diamanada Galas-esque shrieking at the end of the song? I think it was the basis of that one song that I love the album so.

5. Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea (2000).

This album came at a strange time in this world of ours. The rage from the early 90’s had dissipated, and no one really knew what to do with it. 9/11 hadn’t happened yet, and no one really knew what we were getting into with W.

What scared me a little about this album was how uplifting it sounded. The lead single “Good Fortune” actually sounded happy! I was scurred.

What was also scary was how good the album was despite the general happiness. There’s an excellent duet with Thom Yorke in “The Mess We’re In”.

4. Dry (1992).

This announced the arrival of Polly Jean Harvey unto the music world. It’s fitting it started with a bomb of a d-minor chord in “Oh My Lover” which sees Polly clinging onto her love by any means necessary. There’s desperation and sorrow, but the anger brewing underneath the surface was evident. It’s not the full explosion of what was to come, but there was just enough to intrigue.

3. Is This Desire? (1998).

Holy shit this is a beautiful group of songs. We saw the desperate Polly, the angry Polly, the theatric Polly. She even went a bit experimental with John Parrish in the interim. She did a duet with her then-boyfriend Nick Cave. What next?

It was this collection of subdued songs that tried to tell a story. “Angelene” opens with slight strums of a couple of guitar strings. “Is This Desire?” ends in a whisper. There are loud moments in “Joy” and “No Love So Sweet”, but the full on rage was gone.

A lot of people described this album as “haunting.” It’s just beautiful.

2. To Bring You My Love (1995).

Polly made the big metamorphosis here. She dumped her band and reformed a new group. Instead of being stripped down and raw she decided for big makeup big costumes big theatrics. Big big big.

Everyone knew “Down by the Water.” “Billy” was a great single also. But Polly’s best song was here. “The Dancer”. It was goth. It was female. It was subversive. It was everything that was right about music at that snapshot of time.

1. Rid of Me (1993).

This is among the best album from the 1990’s. Not only is a raw burst of anger from Polly, it is her claiming her place in a man’s world. She’s the king of the world, she’s man sized, she’s blaming the snake, and don’t you wish you never ever met her.

It is rare when a collection of songs immediately knock you on your ass and make you take notice on the first listen.

First of all, the new podcast can be found at LaSportsFag.com. Go and “Like” it on Facebook or you’ll be resigned to having to get gum jobs from 80-year old women whose vaginas have fallen completely out of their bodies and into some landfill in Jersey.

Now to the rest of America outside of Southern California, you cunts can fucking freeze to death for all I care. We have had record-breaking cold here in LA. Sure in most parts of the country, 30-degree low temperatures are commonplace. Fine.

But don’t fucking project your anger on us just because your dumbass is stupid enough to live in an environment that gets to freezing on a regular basis.

I live in Los Angeles because it lacks humidity and cold, two things I can’t deal with. Sure it’s a bit more expensive to live here, but at least I don’t have to deal with the two things that are the bane of my existence. So when either of those two things touch my life, I have a bitch fit.

And you know what? When your dumbass finally wises up and moves here for an extended period of time and it gets this cold, your cunt ass will also bitch about the cold.

So fuck you.

I demand temperatures in excess of 72 degrees everyday. I demand sunshine. If I wanted cold weather, I’d live in Boston. Then again, if I wanted belligerent obnoxious assholes I’d also move to Boston. But that’s an entirely different matter.

A new year, a new podcast. There’s less music than my previous outputs and more sports. But it is just as offensive as ever.

• Fugazi – Furniture
• NHL rant
• Kendrick Lamar – Backseat Freestyle
• Crocodiles – Jet Boy Jet Girl
• Johnny Manziel rant
• Bjork – Crystalline (Omar Souleyman Remix)
• Karen Finley – Tales of Taboo (Radio Mix)
• Rape rant
• Unwound – Arboretum

I promise to get better as I get back into doing these. Leave a comment below or use the “contact” button above to correspond.

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This picture of kimchi fries really serves no other purpose than to be a picture to use.

It hasn’t been the best New Years in my life. Being a caretaker for my grandmother forced me to sit at home tending to scotch while watching television. It’s fine. Sure my Twitter and Facebook messages were bitter saying, “Fuck your New Years,” but I just thought it was funny. After all how annoying is it to see endless messages saying, “Happy New Years” or any other saccharine fake salutation for 2013?

It’s been a strange 2012, going back to Hulu for a spell and all of that. There’s also been a lot more family bitterness that has surfaced this year that makes me sound like some angst ridden teenager when I rant. The whole my-mom-is-clueless type of thing. It just sounds petty, and no one really wants to hear it.

So it’s 2013. The fucking apocalypse didn’t happen, so on we trudge. I don’t exactly know what we’re trudging on to, but I suppose it’s something. As I’m typing this, NHL players are in meetings with the NHL to try and salvage a season. Congress is remarkably trying to accomplish something, some sort of fiscal cliff thingee for which I really have had little concern.

I guess it’s time to stave off death for as long as possible. But the Clippers are the best team in the NBA and the Kings won the Stanley Cup. So what else matters?

This has been brewing for a little while. It has nothing to do with the performance of the team or anything like that. It’s me. Honestly.

I want to take the moment to say that on this day I am officially handing my fan card back to the Chicago Bears.

It’s been a good 11 years. After the Raiders left Los Angeles and I moved back here after college, the Bears were the team that captured my fandom. There were several losing years, some awful offenses, but there was a Super Bowl. Granted it was a loss, but it was something. There was Sexy Rexy, good ole Neck Beard Kyle Orton, and that ever present defense.

But right now, as my fanaticism towards individual sports teams has died across the board, I’m finally relinquishing Da Bears. It seems appropriate that it comes on the day the team fires head coach Lovie Smith.

I just don’t see the point of having an irrational love towards a team, especially one that I adopted more recently than other teams I used to root for (i.e. the Dodgers). I’ve never seen them play live. I don’t have paraphernalia.

So that’s it. Good luck to the Bears in the future. I will continue to watch your exploits on Sundays on the Red Zone Channel. But I’m done.

I have had some pretty strange dreams in the past. I’ve killed an evil 2 year old girl who would kill people amusingly with her thoughts. I’ve had my head sawed off by the Russian mafia. Here’s another one from this morning:

I went with a couple of friends into a cave to meet up with Satan. One of the guys had seen Satan before and was completely stoked. His ultimate goal was to be Satan’s boyfriend. They’ve obviously played before, and Satan seemed pretty happy that he came back.

Satan sat across from us, about 100 feet away, and began an incantation. My friend was flat on his back in an orgasmic trance that crescendoed into a climax. The climax was quite startling and had me and my other friend intrigued.

But it wasn’t going to be easy.

Satan looked at my other friend, sneered and launched a throwing knife right in his gut. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I didn’t think it would come to this. Satan also launched a knife at me, but I batted it away harmlessly which seemed to make Satan mad.

He brandished a crossbow loaded with about 15 arrows, aimed it at me and said that I had to pay. I curled up covering my face with my hands thinking and wishing that none of the arrows hit my face. Just as Satan released the arrows, I eased up knowing it was inevitable I was going to get shot and be in a lot of pain. As my hands left my face all 15 arrows pierced by hands, 9 in my left and 6 in my right.

I sat there stunned. I have arrows sticking in me. There was blood dripping from my hands.

I heard Satan laughing, not the evil laugh that you think of, but just a satisfied and amused laugh. And that annoyed me. This was clearly some form of initiation and hazing which I think is just plain stupid.

So I got up and walked away, the arrows still in my hands. It took a while before I reached civilization, and once I did I sat down and carefully started removing the arrows. Friends came up and asked me what the hell happened. I didn’t respond. I was busy concentrating on removing the arrows without leaving any splinters in my hand.

I woke up and had to pee.

After days of wet weather, I’m getting a little sick of it.