No Free Basement Art at LACMA Anymore

No More Free Art in the Museum Basement

For years I have perused Max Beckman and other German Expressionists in the basement of the Leo S. Bing Center at the Los Angeles County Art Museum on Wilshire Boulevard. I was having an emotional experience thinking about how much quality time I have spent with my free private art museum when reality barged in on me. Those footloose and fancy free days are over. Today I was shown the elevator and informed that told that only staff are allowed in the basement from now on. They’re probably afraid I’ll give them a negative review.  

felt experience

Nothing Worth Paying For This Month

I paid for parking because the streetlamp banners are advertising Chagall, but it is his theatre costumes only. That doesn’t interest me, I didn’t even know Chagall did costumes. I walked out of a lecture at the Brown auditorium because I thought it was a multimedia entertainment extravaganza. I had lunch at the Bing and now I’m hanging out in the museum courtyard letting my parking meter run out and writing this blog about the mediocre curation and exhibits at LACMA.

Next Big Thing

The other day at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf on the Westchester Bluffs, I saw someone who once offered me a job selling cloud storage for his start up, and I didn’t even feel like saying hello to him. I had plenty of time to kill and he was walking two little dogs and looking ninety years old. It would have just ended up with me educating him on the next big thing. The next big thing is not something I just give away for free anymore. If you give something away for free, it has no value. Never just go to them and give it away for free, always make them come to you. 


Create a Need and Fill It

Everybody wants to retire at age 59-1/2 right? Well I found a way to do it! In 1991, a Cuban draftsman told me the secret of retirement while I was working at the Southern California Gas Company. I did what he told me and it worked. Now I have this amazing three-part retirement matrix that does not even include my social security. How did I do it? It’s a secret.

By Dean McAdams

Born a poor peckerwood in a Tujunga holler, Dean overeducated himself beyond his social station to end up a retired paralegal in the coastal paradise of West L.A.