I, Bao Dai of Hollywood, am not a judgmental kind of guy. ΚSwingin' kind of true believer that the Eighties had that certain something that would have let them become the Sixties of their era, yes; judgmental, moralizing kind of knight on white horse, no. ΚHep kind of guy who just burnt the frozen pizza, yeah, baby; Κmoralizing hypocrite who is the first to tell someone how to raise their children -- even if they are doing a crappy job -- no. ΚThe kind of dude who chicks salivate over, no; the kind of dude who lots of chicks should regret not smiling at, you bet.

The ... oh, right M... this isn't about me...

This week it's a review of real life ... life in LA at the dawn of the Twenty First Century in LA, City of Geeks, No Lifes and Glamour.

It's about how not listening to Crosby, Stills, Nash and at times Young and teaching your children how to politely operate the freaking telephone might just save lives -- or not.

\What follows is a true story. ΚThe names have been changed to protect the ... oh who am I kidding -- the names have been changed to protect my ass.

Paul loved Rachel. ΚHe loved her bright smile; loved her soft blonde hair and piercing blue eyes and when the season was right he loved her tawny tan skin, and when the season was wrong he loved her pasty Elmer's Glue-All white skin and ruby red lips and shining neon ivory smile that launched not a thousand ships, but several hundred each Memorial Day when she had her annual high colonic at Doc Allen's ΚProljrct Proctology and Psychic Hotline Scam, Κboaters, jockeying for position trying to squeeze out into the deep blue Pacific for a little celebratory picnic at sea before racing back into the their slips before cocktail time and a lazy summer of golf and General Good Times, would mistake her grimacing for a good luck and wave.

And Paul especially loved Rachel's big D Cup breasts he needed to knead, which eventually led to Paul's penis of 16 years slip sliding away into Rachel's raunchy ruthole five months earlier and sans any sort of prophylactic or prosthesis.

And so Rachel was, as they say, "knocked up" which only made her knockers bigger and Paul's heart more breakable....

Which was unfortunate.

The couple twisted in the wind like a set of cheap Taiwanese wind chimes. Rachel, age 14, was not ready to settle down, despite having been around the block with half her Middle School before hopping between the sheets with Paul.

Her pregnant promiscuity, or perhaps some misplaced mistletoe resulted in Paul spotting Rachel and an ex of her's all tongue tied which only increased Paul's anger.

ΚIt might not make sense to you -- hell, it doesn't even make sense to him anymore, but at the time, as he screamed at her "bitch ass" via the phone, it made perfect sense to Paul ... heck, every kid knows that pregnant pubescent girls are irresistibly attractive to all males. Or maybe, casting Paul in a more sympathetic light, he did not feel the mother of his future child should be out on a Friday Night whoopin' it up with God knows who and with God knows what.

It doesn't matter, because when Rachel heard the tell tale sound of call waiting, she stopped Paul mid-curse, and with a lot of relief, took the other call, placing Paul on hold.

It doesn't matter who was on the other line, or even if the call was for Rachel, or even if the call was some nimrod trying to sell Rachel's parents on the idea of a retirement home in Swamp Hole, Florida, because Rachel, either due to anger or poor memory, "forgot" to get back to the raging Paul, who eventually, and presumably, hung up the phone and grabbed his Mom's keys and went out driving in his mother's Kia.

The powerful four door Kia at his command, Paul, who was blind with obsession, picked up two clueless friends: Jeff, who had schlepped away from home on the old "going to get a Slurpy" excuse, and Quentin who, remarkably had been named after the prison where he'll probably be spending at least half his adult life, who was just out for a stroll, probably after deciding to pass on an afternoon of cartoon watching with his grandfather and couldn't pass up the chance for a ride in the Kia.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I smell reefer ... possibly laced with PCP or in combination with an hallucinogen or two like LSD or a deliriant such as Ketamine or PCP, but definitely weed, pot, mary jane, doobies, et cetera, et cetera,et cetera,et cetera -- not that it has anything to do with this tale, but think of the royalties generated by Reefer Madness, and trust me, this tale is not only true, but it's a shit load more gorey.

Anyway, after a joint or so, Paul & Co. decide to go over to Rachel's home to remind "the fucking bitch" (as Paul often referred to Rachel) that he was still on the telephone waiting for her so he could resume ranting and raving. Presumably Paul felt this would endear him to Rachel. Who knows, it might have done so ... had the "fucking bitch" not purposefully ignored him and the Kia, which not only hurt Paul emotionally, but set up a very nasty situation in the world of machismo -- in other words, Paul had been dissed in front of his homeys by the fucking bitch ass whore who was pregnant with his kid.

Toss in a healthy dose of adolescent hormones and nothing but bad craziness can erupt from that.

Paul was too young and inexperienced at rationalizing rejection to realize that, by ignoring him and the Kia, Rachel was actually displaying her hot monkey lust for him, or to realize Jeff and the Q Man were way too stoned to have noticed -- or cared -- that Paul got dissed by Rachel.... Shit, next thing they know Paul was all creepified, there was a blackness to his eyes and he was mumbling threats and asking no one in particular if he l really did look like Keanu Reeves in the movie Speed and the Kia was following a Toyota full of young girls -- one of whom, the driver, Kathy -- was on leave from the Air Force where she flew fighter jets -- Stealth Fighter Jets -- whereas Paul had only passed Driver's Ed by agreeing to let the instructor take nude photos of him which have since circulated around the world 57 times thanks to the internet.

Nevertheless, while his homeys fired up the Port-a-Bong [ͺthe Purdue Bong Company, Paranoia, Wyoming] things were headed toward a tragic conclusion fast and unbeknownst to anyone, were already beyond anyone's control.

There's something wrong with this picture, and I will again point my finger to the Devil's Shrub.

I mean Rachel's playing the I'm Ignoring YOU card as if she had four aces to back it up, when you'd think, what with her doing the deed with Paul and carrying around the fruit of his loins for months, she had to know was a dangerous thing to do -- sure, there's the possibility Paul had cried "Wolf" so many times it had become a local sport to humiliate him -- and the girls are acting as if being stalked by a Kia is the latest ride at DisneyLand.

Meanwhile, back in the Kia, at a stop light Paul gets out of the car and instead of going to his beloved to tell her she's a fucking bitch -- his stated purpose -- he gets something -- perhaps a canister of nitrous oxide -- as Jeff and Q smoke and joke, shuck and jive, despite knowing Paul is not the type of guy who handles any sort of jealousy or rejection well ... and their little evening drive in the Kia has turned into a psychotic episode of following a Toyota. My theory is that Q insisted they be let off and Paul calmed them down with the nitrous...l or maybe it was a big bottle of ether ... or gasoline (the sniffin' kind), as this crowd seems to be anything but top shelf.

So, for half an hour or so after breaking out the nitrous and ether combo, the Kia is still slowly following the Toyota around the block and every body but Paul is in hysterics as smoke billows out of each vehicles and, above the Beastie Boys Paul can be heard letting loose a string of curses intermingled with threats and the characterization of the future mother of his child as a female dog.

Eventually the Toyota (and the Kia) stop in front of Rachel's house again, in order to pick up Rachel's little sister Ronda and then the low speed chase ensued through the streets of suburban LA. One must wonder just what the fuck was going through everyone's mind at this point. Were the girls scared? No. They circled the block several times until Rachel's little sister appeared wearing way too much make-up and a Wonder Training Bra.

After Ronda had squeezed into the back seat the Toyota pulled slowly away from the curb with the Kia in hot pursuit.

Query: Why didn't Paul hop out of the car when it stopped to pick up Ronda and try to talk to her?

We may never know, because Kathy Ashley, the pilot, and Rachel, her sister Ronda, Kathy's sister Ashley Ashley and Liu Liu Liucee Ghombi, the token Asian-Italian relaxed, took some E and, the Toyota on virtual cruise control, headed down the I-10 to the North Bound 605.

Although the Toyota was only doing about 60, Paul had every ounce of his self, as well as his soul and his pride and his anger stomped onto the gas pedal, trying to catch it. Once in a while Kathy would slow down to tease Paul, who was not even distracted by the fire Jeff and Q had started in the back seat of the Kia. No, Paul was intensely intent on catching up with the Toyota which rolled -- well, limped really -- along in the No. 1 lane (that's the fast lane).

Finally, tired of these adolescent games, the Air Force Captain in her took over, and like a misguided F-117 over Korean air space letting an out dated MIG catch it and do the old wing-wobble signal for it to land, allowed the Kia to come up alongside the Toyota.

Big mistake.

First, Paul yells, and I quote "Pull over Bitch! Stop the car! I'm gonna (sic) fuck you up!"

What followed, according to Q's account, was a lame game of Korean catΚandΚJapanese mouse, with Paul leaning over either a comatose and/or masturbating JeffΚto scream threats as the Kia wavered in the No. 2 Lane... until Paul, frustrated and maybe a bit on edge having forgotten to take his Prozac screamed "RAMMING SPEED" and before Q could duck:

"It was bitchin' dude. Like Paul spun the wheel of his Mom's car to the right and we like smacked the side of the Toyota!"

Which went out of control, shot across four lanes of traffic (managing to get rear-ended by an RV as it went), through the black fumes and screeches of burning rubber and blaring horns, right across an exit lane and then bashed through the guard rail and was "catapulted" off the freeway, its trunk exploding as it flew, leaving a trail of socks and panties and Kathy's camouflage uniform and spit polished boots in trees and bushes before it crash landed against what would be called a "Cyclone Fence" if this had happened in South Eastern Pennsylvania.

"I said, I said, like, 'Oh WOW, man, we should go back and see how the car landed, dude man' and Paul's like 'Heheheheheh... it's their fault, Q-Man my man,' and I look over and I swear to God right here and now that then and there Paul looked just like Satan, man." Q quakes. "It was gerrrrnarly, man. Gernarly!. So like what's the poop, dudes? I'm supposed to go boarding with Jimmy, who is like Kathy's brother, dude, and I don't want to like say the wrong thing, dudes. And hey! How'd you get like my name?"

The investigating officers explain they got his name from Jeff, who was neither comatose or masturbating but who had videotaped the entire incident, with the sound on but "the microphone unfortunately, was covered." Q-Man asks if they'll be selling the videos. "The back of boarding zines, skaters and shit will be down for buying it."

Anyway, after the Toyota hit the ground the following happened:

1. There was an eerie moment of calm, as if the whole world had suddenly stopped and started up again real quick, and when it started again the air was filled with birds flying up, up and away and traffic on the North Bound 605 all slowing as lookieloos tried to peer over to see what had happened and then sirens pierced the air;

2. Paul exited the freeway and drove Quentin and Jeff home, making sure they took all the drugs with them, as well as the gun with which he had planned to shoot Rachel if she wouldn't talk to him, and the baseball bat he planned on maybe beating her with if she did talk to him;

3. Then he picked up his brother and like the old saw about the criminal -- not like he felt like he was one -- he returned to where he figured a car had landed "to see how Rachel and the baby were doing";

4. Some bystander told him the ambulance which was leaving just as the Coroner's wagon rolled up was headed for XYZ Hospital, so he went there, certain he would not have been so unlucky as to have killed Rachel;

5. While inquiring at the hospital about how Rachel was doing, a CHP officer "detained" Paul and handed him, and his car, over to the relevant local police department;

6. At 4:50 a.m. the fuzz -- the man -- the thin blue line and the Code of Silence "Mirandized" (which isn't/shouldn't be a word) Paul and, about 50 minutes later, he abandoned his story that he had accidentally bumped into the side of the Toyota sending it hurtling off the freeway and toward death's door and admitted he had smashed into the car on purpose "because Rachel put me on hold and never got back to me;"

7. As another rosy dawn broke in the East Paul was booked for murder, four counts of ADW/GBI (Assault with a Deadly Weapon (a car) with Intent to Cause Great Bodily Injury... all five cases with "special circumstances", and one count of Leaving the Scene of an Accident Involving Injuries. The cops noted that at no time did he show any remorse or inquire as to the condition of Rachel or the unborn child (both of whom made it);

8. Kathy Ashley not only lost her little sister and will probably feel guilty about it for the rest of her life, but also broke her neck; and

9. Pacific Bell has aggressively marketed "Call Waiting" bundled with "Caller ID", because no one in Southern California really wanted either one. They use a still from the tape of this incident, as filmed by Jeff, who is now an up and coming film maker, to sell the package. The slogan -- SO YOU WILL KNOW WHEN PAUL CALLS" -- is in white block letters over the scene of the smoking wreck of a Toyota.

Well, that last part isn't exactly true.....

ΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚΚ