Award Tour Vol. 14: Trapped and Never Escaped

Once again, it is me, Tre, and Marcy (who has come to town from Vegas to chill for the weekend). We’re all at Venice and I believe I described Venice previously as a stationary gypsy fair… that’s fairly accurate. The boardwalk is basically a beach front with rampant pan handling for money. For those of you who might actually venture out to Los Angeles and Venice Beach… I’ve put together these player profiles so you can identify the crazies as you meet them.

NAME: The Artist
PERSONEL: One guy
SUPPLIES: A bass guitar, a bass drum, a cymbal, and a microphone
THE HUSTLE: This man attempts (“attempts” being the key word) to do a rendition of “Erotic City” featuring himself on everything, vocals and instruments…
MY ASSESSMENT: A wise man should know his limits. I feel like we could stop right there… but just so we’re clear, if your name isn’t Prince Rogers Nelson, don’t even do it to yourself, just pick another song by another artist. Because you will NOT play the same 15 seconds of one verse and try to pass it off as the entire song. This is unacceptable… the words are changing… how come the music isn’t?

NAME: The snake boys
PERSONEL: Two guys
SUPPLIES: one baby albino boa.
THE HUSTLE: With a mere $5 dollars you could secure the privilege of taking a picture of the snake boys wearing their snake… no, they’re not celebrities… they just have a snake and you don’t. In addition, you, yourself, don’t actually get to be in the photo… nor do you get to actually handle the snake… You simply get to take the picture of them. It goes without saying that you have to use your own camera and film… but for a picture of the snake boys… isn’t it worth it?
MY ASSESSMENT: Kiss my ass

NAME: Mr. Roboto
PERSONEL: One dude
SUPPLIES: A Boba-Fett Mask from Star Wars, Hammer pants (yes… Hammer pants), a card board background, and a loud speaker blasting the theme to “Battle Star Galactica”
THE HUSTLE: He pretends to be a robot, and you give him money.
MY ASSESSMENT: I pretended he wasn’t there and gave him nothing. (I mean really… come on… when I am forced to ask what exactly your talent is… I am short step away from concluding that, in reality, you have none). Couple this with the unforgivable mixing of Sci-Fi genres (Star Wars and Battle Star Galactica) and I cannot in good faith endorse the patronage Mr. Roboto.

NAME: Rolla-pa-looza
PERSONEL: One man
SUPPLIES: A portable amp, stereo, an electric guitar, and roller blades
THE HUSTLE: He plays music on his guitar as he roller blades by…
MY ASSESSMENT: Actually I’m not entirely convinced that there was a hustle here so much as there was an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He never stopped roller blading once while I saw him (like he was shark-human hybrid that would die if he stopped moving) and he seemed content to play a song that no one else knew except him. A song that consisted of 7 notes played as randomly as the notes generated from a wind chime.

NAME: Ivan Putski
PERSONEL: One man
SUPPLIES: A kitchen stove
THE HUSTLE: The man attempts to assemble a crowd by telling them he is about to perform a dangerous fete; namely balancing the stove on his chin. I don’t know why everyone else gathered around him… but I personally came over to see if he would decapitate himself in the process or just crush his windpipe; much to my disappointment he did neither. In fact, he hoisted the stove up and took it on the “chin”as he declared he would. When he finished his fete, he then stated, “now make yourselves happy and give me money!”
MY ASSESSMENT: His assertions that giving him money would make me happy was entertaining (it certainly made me laugh) but not compelling. My advice to Ivan: Your talents on the boardwalk are clearly wasted. There's a job waiting for you at UPS. Look into it.

NAME: Ethereal Man
PERSONEL: One fella
SUPPLIES: an Indian guitar known as a Sitar, chimes, and mind control
THE HUSTLE: The man plays a mystic harmonious blend of sounds on his Sitar and his chimes, placing you in hypnotic state of zen under which you can deny none of his requests. Once he has established contact with your frontal lobe and your eyes become vacant… I presume Ethereal man simply requests that you give him money, and still under the haze of his enchanting spell, you are unable to resist.
MY ASSESSMENT: Whatever you do, do not stand too close to this man. Everyone who was within a 5 foot radius of the man appeared to be floating; perhaps it was some sort of tractor beam (though my people from the Star Trek Convention tell me we’re not quite there yet). I cannot say for sure that Ethereal Man had opiates burning in and around his booth… all I can say is that, much like those insects millions of years ago that stumbled into amber resin, those who ventured too close to Ethereal man were trapped and never escaped.