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Drex & Sex, &c.

Dockie style.

Sex sells, sorta, maybe even for alt weeklies with readership skewing way over 40. The LA Weekly beefed up to 104th St. this fortnight-ere-VD issue as The Sex Issue. No arts article, alas, and a tickle-ourselves piece on LA's Republican law firm of choice, Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher and their pro bono Republico on behalf of Beverly Hills Attorney Ben Austin and the Compton parent trigger fiasco, which it is now obvious the Weekly will run with to farce until the sheer tedium of the story grinds the whole universe to a screeching halt. Having toiled for Gibson Dunn whorehouse myself a quarter century ago, I can only imagine the chuckles as a fat Brioni-suited partner dispatched the hapless associate with the least prospects of making it rain to the instant matter.

Ow, there's also a weeks late something ironically on the LA "news" page in which Carmen Trutanich is eying the D.A. post. No, really! Gene Maddaus may not yet be party to this elaborate ruse, where candidates are being invited to beg off the race longer still, because Steve Cooley is just so pissed that Carmen the Clown is running that, darn it, he will run himself after all, saving America, scaring the hell out of everybody! Also, Maddaus, who has few willing-to-talk-publicly sources in pocket yet has somehow talked to someone who knows exactly what John Shallman says to Steve Cooley on the telephone, has a "former contributor [sic] to Trutanich" assure the Weekly "He's fucking insane"--he being our very own City Attorney!

What a thing to anonymize! You know, the subtext is like this: Carmen is so fucking insane, he might even use his office to retaliate against a "former" [sic] contributor! Which would be pretty much a felony. At any rate, here's what's really fucking insane: Jim Newton got to interview Carmen the Clown last week, so Jill Stewart needed to get something on Carmen on the board too, pronto, preferably with an f-bomb or two in it, and this was it, thank you Gene.

But then--Drex Heikes, sex yikes! Somebody greenlighted this sex issue thing. There's a furry on the cover and then, in order, Gendy Alimurung, Gendy Alimurung, L.J. Williamson, L.J. Williamson, Paul Abramson, L.J. Williamson and L.J. Williamson. In short, I count three people covering 1.3 million LA sex lives each, and ending up in Hollywood a lot.

Squinting through my own fiftysomething farsight to read something sexytime, I can't help but wonder how the Weekly settled on this particular trio of "researchers", who are generally young vibrant bi curious, when the fishwrap's newsstand readership is liberals looking for a showtime to a Laemmle matinee, the only time of day they can read the dinky print. Wouldn't it have even been more interesting--I mean, for your actual readers--to explore the sex lives of, say, San Pedro's dockworkers, east downtown loft artists, eastern Euro mail-order brides in Woodland Hills, than the froth of tatted gropers that wash the shores of our Hollywood coffeehouses and happy hours, whom we can see any old time we like, and who are, in general, not much more than predatory nuisances, really? I. Think.

EARLIER: 96th Street, 96th Street, 92nd Street.