Kobe has elevated himself behind Jordan; and now people are seeing it.
Motorists are regularly cited for not yielding to pedestrians. I mean, really yielding, like, until they are safely up on the curb. And pedestrians get ticketed for not crossing at crosswalks. It’s a far cry from the East Coast free-for-all, where drivers and hoofers manage to co-exist without the city dipping its beak every 45 feet.
Though the sun shines roughly 330 days a year, there is a tanning salon in every strip mall and a strip mall on every corner.
A new arrival in L.A. will be asked questions he’s never pondered before, like, “What year gas do you use?” Huh? “You know, 87, 89 or 91?”
If you see lilacs somewhere in a house, it means the occupant believes that is her “prosperity corner.”
There’s a reason they call it La La Land.
But of all the head-snapping, whiplash-inducing revelations that have greeted me since I made the Southland my home, none made me yell at my car radio as loudly as Laker fans’ insistence on comparing Kobe Bryant to Michael Jordan.
It started in earnest a couple of years ago. I found the comparison preposterous, downright embarrassing.
It was NBA blasphemy, a violation of hoop’s first commandment: You shall have no other basketball gods before M.J.
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