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Brown Bettie Knows Best ~I may not be funny, but I sure know what is.

I’ll admit I have a curious nature aboutmyself. If there is a shiny, silver nickel in the gutter, I’ll wonder how it got there and to whom it belonged. If there is a discarded leather chair on the side of the road, I’ll first wonder if there are bed bugs in it and if so, if that is the reason it has been chucked from the warmth of its former home…and then I will wonder who sat in it, when they sat in it, and if the sitter was anything like Archie Bunker.

I don’t let my curiosity get the best of me…I’m good about it only leading me so far. I have no desire to be killed (like a cat). That is why one late night when I saw two pair of empty shoes (Chuck Taylor’s and women’s ballerina flats) abandoned in front of an ATM on Magnolia in North Hollywood, I let it alone, because clearly they had either been abducted by aliens while trying to get cash from the SAG/AFTRA ATM…or worse. There was an empty parking lot nearby and I could only imagine that some mean guy had carted them off into the darkness after forcing not only their pin number from them, but also from out of their shoes.

I have this same curiosity about the

Transvestites that work on Santa Monica Boulevard and Highland in Hollywood. If you live in Los Angeles, or visited, you’ve seen these ladies working their stuff up and down Santa Monica and/or congregating at the Donut Shop on the north east corner. You’ve watched with awe and sometimes shock at the


chatty-Kathy coffee-clutch gaggle of them as they sit at the bus stop jawing about God knows what. (And you know I want to know!) The other day, I’d just finished a great breakfast meeting with a friend at the Hollywood Corner restaurant which is on Highland and Lexington, just a few blocks South of Santa Monica. I sat in my car as I planned the rest of my day via my smartphone. I looked up in thought and from my driver’s side window, I noticed a shiny silver purse and a shirt thrown on top of a garage across the street. “Arrrrguuu-ment” I thought as I imagined a hissy fit that involved Tranny 1mad at Tranny 2 for steppin’ in on her man. I’d hoped there was nothing valuable in the purse and that they’d made up by now. As I stared at the purse, a lovely lady with flowing Britney-blond hair and Marie-Antoinette pale skin came into view as the street light changed at the corner. He was pedaling like Mary Poppins on a very cute bicycle, with not a Mary Poppin’s worry about him. I wondered if he was headed home or if he was roaming the block looking for work...? He wore a cap, black fitted tank top, black thigh-high boots and short-shorts as he strolled by. As he neared, I felt he was going for Liza Minnelli in “Cabaret”, but quite expired for the outfit as he may have been about 60 years old. He reminded me of (perhaps) the only Transvestite in Kenosha, Wisconsin. She would come into the McDonald’s where I worked in high school. I always thought of the courage she had, walking into McD’s with the wig and the

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