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Arts and Entertainment

Brit Concludes Los Angeles Is Dickhead 'Mecca'

The boutique hotel that so enraged Will Self (Photo by John Lopez via the LAist Featured Photos pool on Flickr)
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It sounds like a British writer Will Self had a rough trip to Los Angeles. He reports that while he was staying at a boutique hotel on Fairfax, they refused to turn down the triphop while he was eating breakfast.

This sent the Gen Xer on an unpleasant trip down memory lane back in a column for the British weekly magazine New Statesman. He starts out in the Farmer's Market that leads him to the original sins of his generation he says is responsible for the widespread hipster nonsense you see today.

I rear up and head over to reception for the usual useless parlaying: would they please turn the music down? No, they would not, because they cannot comprehend why anyone wouldn’t want to eat their waffles to the accompaniment of loud trip-hop . . . When I reassume my seat, looking frazzled and out of sorts, one of my sons bellows sympathy over the shingly sonic backwash, and I say: “Really, it’s OK. After all, it’s my generation that’s to blame for this bullshit culture.” And we are, aren’t we, us fiftysomethings? We’re the pierced and tattooed, shorts-wearing, skunk-smoking, OxyContin-popping, neurotic dickheads who’ve presided over the commoditisation of the counterculture; we’re the ones who took the avant-garde and turned it into a successful rearguard action by the flying columns of capitalism’s blitzkrieg; we’re the twats who sat there saying that there was no distinction between high and popular culture, and that adverts should be considered as an art form; we’re the idiots who scrumped the golden apples from the Tree of Jobs until our bellies swelled and we jetted slurry from our dickhead arseholes - slurry we claimed was “cultural criticism.”

He goes on to call Los Angeles the "Mecca" for this kind of thing: "In Los Angeles, arguably their Mecca, to be a dickhead is unremarkable." Oh and did we mention that he really didn't enjoy himself at the Farmer's Daughter? "Nowadays someone who sticks old agricultural implements on the wall of a Los Angeles motel regards himself as on a par with Michelangelo; moreover, since all their friends are dickheads, too, no one is about to disabuse them. Hell, on Planet Dickhead just turning up the trip-hop can be a work of unalloyed genius. "

Anyway, maybe next time he needs a quiet getaway, he should try Shutters On The Beach?