Stop me if you've read this one:

While rooting around in the spam mailbox looking for authentic emails that somehow got trapped in the junk filter, I found the email that follows. Now, I've seen countless of these, but they tend to come from beleagured African nationals looking to reclaim money filched from a dictator's illegal stash. But this is the first one I've seen featuring ersatz American servicemen.

Even if this is commonplace and I've just missed the latest ploy to play on American guilt and sympathy for our Armed Forces -- whatever your stance on the war -- I'm posting it.

Call it outrage at the audacity of hype.

Of course, maybe this explains where some of our trillion dollars were "lost" in the desert by Brown & Root services, Halliburton, Paul Bremer, etc. Check out the links if you dare.

Forget WMDs. Time to go digging for DMD's: Dollars of Mass Destruction. If we find them, and bring them home, we'll not only be able to fix our national infrastructure and stop the dollar's plunge, but we'll be able to afford both a gallon of gasoline AND a grande non-fat Vanilla latte. Right now, I have to choose between them since the price is the same.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I have to turn over the mulch in my old SUV. (Really keeps the heat in, and the worms don't get into the house.) Makes great fertilizer for the fruit trees.

Hello,

I and Late Staff Sergeant Oscar Medina on the 7th of June 2003, using our position secured the sum of US$7.5 Million for ourselves(This was quite an illegal thing to do, but I tell you what? No compensation can make up for the risk we have taken with our lives in this hellhole. Of which a roadside bomb killed my brother in-law last week), which was from the over US$200Million recovered at a remote Baghdad neighborhood (please view http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2988455.stm) a year later Staff Sgt Oscar Medina died following an ambush by militia insurgents in Iraq...(also view http://the.honoluluadvertiser.com/article/2004/May/13/ln/ln01a.html).

Los Angelenos learn the meaning of these terms the way most people acquire knowledge, by paying tuition, albeit in the form of parking citations and fines. Those who say we in LA don't read have obviously never parallel parked on our streets, where we not only read, but debate the subtext and hidden meanings intended by the author. Is "stopping" the same as parking, or something permanent? Is "Flag Day" a holiday? What exactly qualifies as "loading?" And, can Hondas park wherever in Beverly HIlls, or is that particular privilege afforded only to late-model Jaguars and UPS vans?

Confusing as it can be, there's now one more lesson -- a sign that regulates unregulated signage -- the course materials for which have been posted at various locations throughout the city, most recently along Olympic Boulevard on the Westside [see inset].

Perhaps credit (or blame, depending upon your perspective) for this latest addition to LA's curbside Library of No ought to be assigned to those placard-loving real-estate agents, who plant their satin flags and signboards at street corners and freeway exit ramps Sunday after Sunday. Forever in pursuit of an edge, some enterprising souls a few years ago purchased mini-billboards mounted to stripped-down, steel-frame, stand-alone trailers, and began parking them sans vehicle as close as possible to corners at busy intersections.

"New Condos Now Open," they beckon. "Still Available."

I expect the application of these rolling platforms is not limited to real estate, so perhaps it's a bit unfair to give real estate agents all the credit for their proliferation, but, c'mon … This is a profession that puts its face on business cards, bus side panels and bench backs. Only canines mark as much LA territory on any given day of the week.

In marketing, bigger is better, I guess. But, in the case of mini-billboards on unhitched trailers, bigger also seems susceptible to tipping in high winds. And, surprise, even when upright, these steely skeletons tend to snarl traffic on high-volume roadways like Olympic Boulevard through Century City and Westwood, where street parking is allowed on weekends, though about as advisable as doing so on any free-flowing Southland freeway.

Thus, the need for a law, and the associated posting of signs to curb the use of signs.

Nontheless, not to worry. When next you park and encounter this big, crossed-out "P" take a deep breath and relax. Unless you're dropping a trailer, this probably isn't going to get you ticketed. Then again, in a city where a "one-way plan" is actually a "two-way plan" that's got people crying "no way!" … er … maybe you should find out what the city considers an "unhitched trailer" before you risk it.

[For the motion and ordinance approved by the LA City Council in 2005 see this link.]

Click to e-mail TJ Sullivan.

This week, Larry McMurtry received the Los Angeles Public Library Award for his extensive contribution to literature, joining other great American writers such as Norman Mailer, E.L. Doctorow, Louise Erdrich, and August Wilson, who have received the award in the past. Today, he's speaking at the library's important ALOUD series (full disclosure: I'll be speaking there myself in June). In a difficult time of funding cutbacks for all things cultural, including libraries, his talk draws attention to the crucial role that the LAPL plays in our lives as citizens - as a literary and educational town square, as well as a palace of history and connection. On the occasion of his award, I posed a few online questions to McMurtry; here are some of his thoughts on the modern West, great books, and his favorite librarian.

1. Perhaps more than any other American writer, you've explored the nooks and crannies of the cowboy's nature. Do you agree that America is a cowboy nation, in terms of the way we see ourselves, and if so, what aspects of the cowboy character have helped us in the world? Which ones are destroying us?

No, I don't consider us a cowboy culture. We're a suburban culture. The cowboy survives as an image because it's an image of independence. In reality, that independence only survived for about twenty years. The cowboy myth comes out of the trail drives. Once the railroads came into existence, there was no need for cowboys to do cattle drives. Since then, they've been workmen--hired hands in a rural trade, and have become more and more marginal.

2. In your memoir, "Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen," you mention that the frontier experience produced a silence in women - at least in two of the ones you knew, the "skunk woman" as well as your paternal grandmother. In your work you have shown a deep affinity for women and have written memorable and complicated female characters, unlike other writers who have chronicled the West. Have you ever thought that in some way, you are speaking for these silent women of the West?

No. I don't think that way. I'm speaking for whatever character is speaking on the page at any given time. It's about the story and the characters I'm writing.

3. You've written that the media supplies memories. Are you saying that one's personal memory of something isn't real unless it is broadcast on TV or the internet? Do you think that the mania for taking pictures with cellphones and standing in public talking loudly on the phone is a way to take our memories back - create our own - star in our own stories, as obnoxious as that is for people standing behind the person on the phone? What are the consequences of all of this when it comes to the written word?

What I meant by the media supplying memories is that we watch movies, or television, and those things become part of our memory bank. We'll have to wait and see what consequences these things will bring. I don't know. Maybe no consequences. Maybe these things will eliminate the written word, but it's unlikely. I don't use a computer, nor go near the internet. In fact, Diana Ossana, my writing partner, is typing my spoken responses to your questions into her computer.

4. You once wrote that "Texas is where the real West begins." To what degree is George Bush representative of the whole cowboy thing? Is he a total fake or does his invocation of the West go beyond "clearing brush"? And what about Laura Bush? I've had a hard time figuring out how a lifelong book lover and librarian has connected with a man who seemingly does not brake for the written word. Is it a case of "oh you big ole loveable brute"? Do you have any thoughts about what connects those citizens of the Lone Star State?

George Bush is from Greenwich, Connecticut. He likely thinks he's a Texan, but he is not. I don't really know either George or Laura Bush well enough to comprehend or understand what connects them.

5. In your memoir you wrote that the American West has not yielded up a great book. You talked about some books that were really good - Little Big Man and Son of the Morning Star. Now, ten years later, do you still feel the same way? What new books about the West, if any, do you recommend? Which ones have you gone back to, if any?

I do feel the same way about books and the American West; however, No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy is a very good book. I went back to Son of the Morning Star because I was reviewing a book on Custer--and it is still an excellent book.

6. When you were starting your career, you wrote that publishers were eager for new fiction. Nowadays, there is a mania for memoirs, and in fact there are so many of them that they have come to be called in some quarters "mis lit" (misery literature). Obviously certain novelists, including yourself, have a large following and continue to be published. But has the truth trumped its recast version - fiction? Why are publishers encouraging writers to write memoirs instead of fiction? And what does this bode for the novelist?

I don't think that's widespread. There have always been young writers who have written memoirs, for example, Frank Conroy's Stop Time. I think it's just another fad, which will pass. There are far more first novels published in a given year than memoirs.

7. You have noted that the most iconic image of the West is the running horse. The country has nearly purged itself of mustangs, and some say that our four-legged partner is on its way out. Texas, which once had hundreds of thousands of them, now has none. The cowboy scribe J. Frank Dobie saw it coming and today, he would be devastated. You write about cowboys, including your father, who often cite the "two or three good horses" they once had as a highlight of their lives. Apart from the King Ranch, which is privately owned, why couldn't all the cowboys in the Lone Star State manage to keep a few thousand wild horses on the range?

I wasn't aware that all the wild horses have disappeared from Texas; I thought there were still a few out near Fort Davis somewhere. The large concentrations have been in Nevada and Idaho, and maybe eastern Oregon. I know there are sanctuary movements trying to capture them and find homes for them.

8. I'm sure you've heard the Hollywood convention that westerns never work. Of course, your movies have disproved that notion. But others have too, and good ones inevitably win awards and attract large audiences. What accounts for this attitude towards westerns, other than the fact that they don't have special effects and can't be turned into brands, etc?

The attitude that Westerns never work came from the financial debacle of "Heaven's Gate." Now "Heaven's Gate" is considered a masterpiece, but it destroyed a studio because Michael Cimino was uncontrollable budget-wise. A good Western is like any other good film--it tells a compelling story with convincing characters. The ones that succeed are because they tell an interesting story, just like any other film that succeeds. The ones that fail do so because they're not good films and don't tell good stories.

9. For some time small bookstores have been falling by the wayside and places such as your antiquarian bookstore in Archer City must now compete with amazon, alibris, and so on. Do you have any thoughts about the fate of stores such as yours in this strange era of ours? Do you ever buy used books online?

I only purchase books online if I need it overnight in order to write a screenplay. Small bookstores are doomed, unless the people who own and run them have deep pockets.

10. Do you read reviews of your books? If not, how do you reconcile this with being a book critic yourself? If so, have you ever contacted a reviewer with whom you disagreed?

I don't read reviews of my books because I don't learn anything by reading reviews of my books. The book is already written and has left my consciousness. So much time has passed that I feel little or no connection to the book anymore. I don't see any contradiction in reviewing books and not reading reviews of my own books. Reading other people's works in order to review them is simply a writing job.

11. As you wrote in your memoir, books came into your life when your cousin dropped off a box of them as he was leaving for World War II. Is it accurate to say that this was your first library experience? Later, the world became your library as you began to collect books and assemble them in your store in Archer City. But what about official libraries? What role have they played in your life and are there any in particular that were key to you at any given time? Do you have any favorite librarians and is it ok to talk in the library?

Actually, my cousin's dropping off those books was my first READING experience. The Rice University Library—the Fondren Library—was the library I used when I went away to school, and so it was integral to my introduction into the vast world of books. My favorite living librarian is Nina Matheson. Nina ran the medical library at Johns Hopkins as her last librarian job, but is now herself a bookseller.

12. Finally, in California, the big question is "paper or plastic?" In Texas, I hear that it's "Willie or Waylon?" Any preference on this front?

No. I don't listen to music, except the music of my son, James McMurtry.

For many, the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books is an uplifting literary event. A two-day opportunity to glean wisdom from the pros, to engage in a free exchange of ideas, to celebrate the written word and the power of human imagination. For me its an opportunity to swan around the green room, gorging on free food and generally sucking up the last sweet drops of milk from the withering teat of Mama Tribune.

For us, the perk-free, underpaid, uninsured, shut-in scriveners of Los Angeles the LATFOB is one of the best weekends of the year. A time and place where the dweeby, the dorky, the debt-ridden, the middle-aged, the social misfits, the awkward, the mouthy in short: the writers, get all-access laminates and a rare chance to feel like rock stars. It doesn't happen very often, and given all the job stress we have been under lately it's an opportunity to party like it's 1999, when newspapers still had freelance budgets. Would I like a cold bottle of water? Why yes! An escort to my panel? How divine. I always wait a minute too long before meeting said escort, just so I can enjoy hearing my name being called over the green room loudspeaker.

On Friday night, after obediently enduring the book prizes, we herded into the reception area. I was so hungry and excited to be there I found myself resisting the urge to tear off all my clothes and dive into the chocolate fountain.

But for all of that party's shmoozy fun, the real party is in the green room during festival hours. It is the Peyton Place of the west coast literary world. Here people mingle and chat, rub up against and run into each other. The mood is felicitous, but there is also intrigue as it brings together disparate voices and points of view from every corner of the writing world. Where else can you see the salt-of-the-earth, environmental writer (and LAO contributor) Jenny Price one minute, then turn around to watch Maria Shriver emerge from her luxury SUV limo with her crazy doll hair? (Seriously, I think Maria had her hair done by the same Emerald City beautician who styled the Cowardly Lion). Where else can you hear James Ellroy refer to someone as "walking syphillis"? My friend Mark Netter (a huge Ellroy fan) asked the expressive author what he was currently working on. ""The Big Hurt." It's an examination of my checkered romantic past", (Note: I am paraphrasing here) Mr. Ellroy proclaimed, as one of his exes stood in line for a sandwich not far away. Wouldn't that be a great panel, "James Ellroy: My Dark Heart"? But wait, here's Steve Almond and Mark Sarvas within spitting distance of each other, causing a frisson of excitement for anyone who has read the accounts of their famous feud. Twice I found myself gossiping like a fishwife, then being made aware that the subject of the conversation was sitting behind me.

Of course, it goes both ways. As I was doing some nervous pre-panel primping in the ladies room, I overheard one gal say to another, "Oh, well I have an Erika Schickel story for you ..." as they walked out the door, clearly unaware I was standing there. What's that Oscar Wilde quote? The only thing worse than being gossiped about, is not being gossiped about? I'd have gone out to the booths to find a nice tote bag with that quote printed on it to commemorate the weekend, but frankly, it was too fucking hot for booths. I avoided them.

There was a moment on Saturday, when my energy flagged and I thought that between the heat, and the tragic loss of the fabulous Susan Salter-Reynolds party, this wasn't going to shape up to be much of a book fest. But Sunday dawned bright and fiery and I found myself just being grateful that at I wasn't at Coachella. (Can we bring Prince to the book festival next year?) I made it to Royce Hall at the deeply non-rocking hour of 10:30 in time to see Steve Almond interview singer/songwriting luminaries Aimee Mann and Joe Henry. Aimee was lithe and lovely, though. sadly, noticeably Botoxed. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe she just has a really smooth, shiny, unmoving forehead. But she sang beautifully and spoke shyly of her process. Joe Henry was full of fascinating patter. It was an inspired session and hopefully will bring to a close the tedious stranglehold The Rock Bottom Remainders has had over book festival music stages across this great nation for the past decade and a half.

I skittled back to the Green Room, looking to eat lunch with someone pleasant, like maybe Richard Rayner or Nick Goldberg. Instead of Nick, I ran into Tod Goldberg, who's name and work I knew, but had never met in person. "Oh Erika, I read you everywhere, " he said, smiling. "You're like lint!" So, yeah, I love him now. We sat at a table where I enjoyed watching Tod crack up LATBR editor Orli Low over and over and over again with his verbal fastballs. You can read Goldberg's bent, hilarious report on the festival at his blog here.

Of course, there's another layer of pleasure the LATFOB brings for me: it's a famliy event at which I can safely ignore my kids. This is the weekend where I give my tweenage daughter Franny free license to roam. Tethered only by her cell phone, she is allowed to ramble around book city with her pals Noah, Edison, Caroline and Sophie (all literary brats) unencumbered by the soul-crushing maternal gaze. They browse the stalls, nabbing freebies, posing for oh-so-cynical photos with the rubberheaded characters, checking out whatever Y.A. lit. panels are on offer. Like hummingbirds, they flit into the green room for a sugar fix (icy cold Cokes and cheesy cheesecake) then buzz back outside for more adventure. I ran into my daughter in the green room for a minute on Saturday, and she reported meeting her favorite author Francesca Lia Block in the ladies room. She told Ms. Block she was a huge fan of her books and Block graciously gave Franny a signed copy of her latest YA novel "Blood Roses."

At the end of the day Franny looked at me tiredly and said, "I want to go home, take a shower and get into bed with a good book." I felt the same way. Not only that, but I was feeling super-inspired to get back to writing my own book. And that right there is the real magic of the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books.

I find that when going to the theatre to see a new show, it's best to have few expectations. I went to see "My Fair Lady" at the Ahmanson with no expectations at all, just one strong hope: that the live show would prove better than the film, as musicals usually (but not always) do. My wish came true.

As soon as the the rose-covered painting rose on turn-of-the-century Covent Garden, I knew I was in for a visual and musical treat. Anthony Ward's beautifully detailed set filled the stage and nearly distracted me from the action several times. Ward's genius also extends to the costumes: I nearly cried when Eliza Doolittle walked out onto the Ascot set in that magnificent black and purple dress. The cast is fabulous, especially the multi-talented ensemble. The musical highlight of the night for me was "A Little Bit of Luck," performed by the ensemble and led by Eliza Doolittle's father Alfred. The ensemble's raucous dance, with trash can lids on their feet and hands for percussive power, was a loud and appropriate testament to the culture of the working-class English of the time. I was beyond pleased to find Tim Jerome's Alfred P. Doolittle a truly funny character who is not bound by the comic relief stereotype, but rather a scene-stealer who brings life to the amoral dustman and his working-class friends.

Unfortunately, the comic relief turned out to be the young man enamored with Eliza, Freddy Eynsford-Hill, played by Justin Bohon. Perhaps the film's Freddy spoiled me: he was handsome, charming, and a man Eliza would seriously consider for herself. This Freddy was anything but. While cute in a nerdy way, Bohon's Freddy often came off as silly, forgettable and hardly worth a second glance from the object of his affection. Christopher Cazenove's Professor Henry Higgins also surprised me. While his take on the character has strong echoes of Rex Harrison's portrayal, he creates his own Higgins, one who, unlike Harrison's, truly becomes human through his relationship with Eliza.

At last we come to the star of the show. Lisa O'Hare is simply fabulous as Eliza Doolittle. She makes a clear and smooth transformation from brash flower girl to polished lady. To my delight, she makes Eliza Doolittle her own while drawing inspiration from the original, Julie Andrews, and the film's star, Audrey Hepburn. Like most of her principal castmates, she has great comedic timing and is consistently adorable.

The one problem I had with Ms. O'Hare was her interpretation of a few numbers, including "I Could Have Danced All Night." Her voice is beautiful, and her soprano seems to be effortless, but there needs to be more of it. I felt as though Ms. O'Hare was teasing the audience, not letting go until the very last minute. "I Could Have Danced All Night" is Eliza's big number; Ms. O'Hare should use it as a chance to show off what she can do.

More importantly, O'Hare's Eliza is the perfect match for Cazenove's Professor Higgins. They are equals on that stage, in acting power and in sheer presence. Thank goodness there is a suitable ending to the show to illustrate that fact.

My Fair Lady closes Sunday

As noted on the LAO Blog, Los Angeles Times Calendar TV Critic Mary McNamara made one of those mistakes the other day, the kind that all writers dread, yet eagerly ridicule when a colleague falls prey.

Readers can be almost as vicious.

Nothing else is like this. Make a mistake in the day-to-day course of most any other profession and, at worst, a few dozen people become aware of it. But do so in a newspaper and … you quickly learn to understand why reporters can come off as cocky. If they didn't keep their confidence (some might say "egos") pumped up, they'd deflate daily at their desks.

The initial responses of writers vary, though most I've known jump right to denial and do all they can to prove the mistake is no mistake. Once the error is verified as an error, the next step is often to blame the copy desk: If they didn't inject that nonsense, then why in God's name didn't they catch it? A writer I knew in the late '80s became notorious for blaming his every gaffe on his computer, as though that boxy cyclops of a Mac had achieved consciousness and was determined to get him terminated.

But not Ms. McNamara.

When next I teach a journalism course, I will distribute copies of her LAT Show Tracker blog entry from yesterday (04/21/2008) -- A TV critic's walk of shame -- and explain that this is how to do the right thing, and do it with class. Before there was an Internet, newspapers never did anything like this. Here's an excerpt:

It is National Library Week and there is no better time to put libraries at the forefront of public consciousness as cities like L.A. cut services in the face of looming budget deficits and an ailing economy. Indeed, news has come out that the LA Public Library has ceased purchasing new books and plans to start charging a $1 fee for inter-library loans come July 1st. This charge may not seem like much, but it adds up once you realize that many branches do not have copies of their own, forcing patrons to either drive to another branch or opt for an inter-library loan. My friends Kim Cooper and Richard Schave have launched the Save the Los Angeles Public Library campaign, which urges city officials to rethink the plan and consider alternatives to meet the budget shortfall.

Libraries are more than just structures for housing books. They provide space for communities to gather, shelter the homeless and under supervised children, and offer literacy services to those who cannot read. However, these institutions cannot exist without dedicated librarians and staffers to manage and disseminate information.

Thankfully, library workers are doing more to educate the public about what they do and the importance of their role in American society. Last year, Ann Seidel released her film, The Hollywood Librarian, an entertaining look at librarians through film. Closer to home, Don Borchert wrote about his experiences working at a library in Torrance in his book, Free For All: Oddballs, Geeks, and Gangstas in the Public Library. He kindly submitted to the following email interview:

What inspired you to write your book?

I've been writing since I was about six years old. I wrote for the school newspaper in junior high school and in high school, and wrote a few articles for the Ohio State Lantern in college - until I was thrown out of the school of journalism. It was the 60's. I was a rebel.

I also used to write what one science-fiction magazine editor called 'superb plotless scenarios' which might have been a compliment, but didn't get me published. I didn't understand it. It worked for Borges, why not me?

Anyway, a few years ago, I was working on an outline for what I thought would have been a dynamite book for kids - all about the Peloponnesian Wars, but I put it aside. I knew you were supposed to write about what you know, but this was not one of these areas. Then it dawned on me that I could write about the library. I thought it would be fascinating - it's so different than the perception you might get when you walk in, look around, and go: nice quiet place. I wasn't sure that I'd ever be able to convince an agent or a publisher, but it felt very good to write and get down on paper. Cheap therapy.

A story headlined "Likelier here: the next Big One" in today's Los Angeles Times reports up top that a new "forecast" suggests a "much greater chance" of "a huge temblor" in Southern California during the next 30 years.

Because SoCal has remained relatively unshaken since the devastation of the Northridge quake of 1994, such news is of particular concern to area residents.

Paragraph No. 2 says that "California is virtually certain to experience at least one major temblor by 2028."

Then you get to Paragraph No. 19, which says:

The researchers were quick to point out that their forecast does not amount to an earthquake prediction. Moreover, the research focused on the probability of ruptures along the faults, not the potential destruction that can be caused by seismic waves, which do the most damage. Scientists noted that even parts of California that were not marked as the most seismically active could be vulnerable to far-reaching waves.

Still, the researchers expressed hope that their findings would be used to improve seismic codes and boost emergency response plans.