On-the-scene reporting of the LA riot... from San Diego!
I'm getting a mental picture...

gNads is hunkered down in her
apartment command bunker. She is wearing firefighter's turnout gear over a WWII flak vest, HAZMAT gloves, and a WWII surplus Tommy helmet. Her 10" Bowie knife is tucked into a boot, and "Betsy", the retired addled submarine chief's Navy service revolver, is close at hand. She is surrounded by case after case of MMREs (Mexican Meals, Ready to Eat- canned
frijoles) and shelf-stable milk. She is clutching her camouflaged iPhone in one gloved hand, watching the tweets; listening to LAPD scanner traffic on her laptop; and watching KABC's live news coverage on TV.
Sweat runs down gNads' fivehead and pools in her neckfolds. She mutters in an odd Polish/Mexican/English pidgin as she frantically types her "reports" onto the iPhone with a pudgy gloved finger, and praises herself for providing such a service to
DU and the
Weekly Pennysaver readers- with no thought for her own safety!
Meanwhile, the addled retired submarine chief went to the local pub hours ago, and is busily drinking himself into a stupor. He knows he can't go home while gNads is at DEFCON ULTRA. In his heart, he hopes a young urban youth is waiting outside to play the Knockout Game with him and put him out of his misery. His last words before he passes out onto the bar: "
Frijoles and canned milk...Oh, God. I coulda married a Filipino tranny. Why, why?"