Friday, August 5, 2016



Temecula, CA – On the heels of the coming tax efforts by both Hemet [dog whistle politics, when you see the nice Valley News crowd photo] and Temecula [fearing rising police and fire rates via Sheriff Sniff for AUMA],, decided to location shoot the present life of someone touched by Memoirs of Mr. Pete & Mary Jane Green.

Approximately six years ago two friends walked into my office on a nice sunny and pleasant day. It was the type of day that people read about in other states, and then think, 'Ah, California'. When they walked through the door I said, “Hold it right there!” And they froze. The reason for my instruction was simple. As a photo editor through training, you spot what others take for granted. My friends walked in the door wearing contrasting tee shirts that were devoid of text, with one exception. Each had a pair of sunglasses hanging, California style, down from the front of the shirt. I grabbed my camera.

At that time I didn't know these two things. First, that the picture would become the cover shot for the still developing runaway bestseller to come, and sadly, that one of the two young men on the cover from that shot of the two Christians, would be homeless, a Prodigal Son to his family and a sad commentary on the god his church believes in. After the jump, BSC takes a look at the man destined to be helped by the book he graciously and unknowingly became a part of, in pictures.

We start with the always expected 'Before' picture, the one that started it all off.

And now the 'After' shot showing the added cover text and layout.

The person wearing the black shirt visually replicated the sub-title of Memoirs perfectly, allegorically, even to that side holding a bong [see pages 68-9, Memoirs].

Like Black Market Brewery back in the day and Java Joz's green room, you have to know just where to look for the entrance, though there are clues if you are aware.

Announcing myself, I was invited inside the camp site.

'A little light reading?' I wondered to myself,

"Need a bicycle?" I was asked. "I can make you one, no problem."


"Naw, thanks though. Occupy LA got me into the habit of walking and using public transportation." I looked around at the home of a close friend, a Christian whose church he had once taken me to, as a way to show me his roots, his Murrieta-Temecula roots. Now he was at root level.

Remembering how a hummingbird once paused mid-flight to listen to us discuss a theological point, I said, "Need something to eat?"

"No, I ate already, but I will take a big orange whip drink from the gas station. They are so good. You should try one."

"Nope. Those things are full of High Fructose Corn Syrup. You should drink something healthier."

"Dude, HFCS is the least of my worries right now." And we both laughed, then hugged.

We walked back out and I took one last look around.

In a state with an $8B surplus in funds, and a city looking to sop up another $23M through a 'voted in' penny sales tax, per year, for police [who have pensions], fire [ditto], public works [pensions, insurance], planning [ditto], and a slush fund ["...and a range of other services - Valley News]. Those services won't include much for young folks like this, I'm afraid.

Things have gotten bad in the world when a book,

Instead of a god, has to rescue a poor Christian.

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