Curb Your Enthusiasm
By Mark D. Crantz
Hello readers. It’s me, the Pet Peeves guy. Don’t get upset. I’m not back for good, just back for a visit. I’m still at the monastery, where I retired from complaining and took the vow of silence. It’s been two years now, and I’ve earned the right to say four words aloud. Here goes, “What the h_ _ _ Laguna?” Now we wait two more years for my four-word answer. Really? Forget waiting. Thanks to the Main Street carrier pigeons, I’m sending my answer column in with mucho words.
Laguna Beach is all torn up. There are new sidewalks and curbs going in. My friends tell me it’s been difficult walking around. Bill 1 and Bill 2 are conjoined twins who believe in the workout buddy system. Bill 1 explains, “I walk three miles a day. Bill runs three miles a day. We finish tied every day. It’s a mystery.”
A supercentenarian who was here in Laguna Beach before Laguna Beach was here was out walking when he came upon a sign declaring “Open Trench.” He looked down and saw a youthful octogenarian in the open trench. “Do you need help, good sir?” The youthful retiree looked up and said, “No sir, I have a good Rivian under me. An extension cord should suffice.”
Larry David, the creator of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” is my hero and expert when it comes to complaining about stuff. He knows curbs because it’s in the name of his show. If I were to ask Larry David, and I didn’t, he would answer, “Watch your step. There’s a good reason why there aren’t any curbs in the countryside.”
That’s a good observation. So, I went to investigate. I turned to Old McDonald, who had a farm, Ee-i-ee-i-o. “Why don’t you have curbs out here, Ee-i-ee-i-o?” Old McDonald answered, “On my farm, I had some cows with a moo-moo here and a moo-moo there. Here, a moo. There is a moo. Everywhere a moo-moo. Then, my no-good-for-nothing son-in-law decided to modernize the place. Here a curb. There a curb. Everywhere a curb-curb. And lo and behold here a cow plant. There is a cow plant. Everywhere a cow plant. Country kids who complained there was nothing to do really really complained. Cow tipping was out. Self cow tripping was in. Milk production went down the drain. Country kids left for the city to find out the new meaning of tipping here. Tipping here. Tipping there. Tipping everywhere. Ee-i-ee-i-o.
This brings me to my recent return and warning. Has anybody thought about the pavement outside the Sandpiper Lounge, aka, Dirty Bird. It’s one of a kind. Part cement. Part flagstone. Part brick. All uneven. For a drinking establishment, the way in and way out is a testament to those brave Lagunans who navigated across it without breaking their necks and hearing “Last Call.”
I asked some old timers of the Dirty Bird how they managed to get across the pavement without injury.
One old-timer responded, “What? Never heard of the place. Never been there. Don’t tell my wife.”
Another anti-teetotaler slurred, “I’ve tangled with that sidewalk more times than I can remember. My doctor says my memory lapse is due to the unforgiving nature of flagstone and brick mixed together. What’s the question again?”
Now, about the warning I’ve come back to give you astute readers. Developers will want to pave over this patch of uneven cement. Village Laguna will want to keep this patch of uneven cement to preserve history. Which is right? Let’s go inside and hoist several libations to get a clearer understanding. Watch your step going in?
Crantz tells the Indy that, many years ago, his son and son-in-law went to the Dirty Bird. Crantz didn’t go because he falls asleep right after the area’s early bird specials. A different bird altogether.
