A little Lebowski interlude

As some of you might know, I'm a big Big Lebowski fan. I consider myself to something of an achiever. And I AM employed, sir.

So no trip to LA would be complete without finding a few of the film's locations. A lotta ins, a lotta outs. Yesterday, I passed the diner where Walter asserted that, uh, for your information dear, the Supreme Court has roundly rejected prior restraint. (And how his buddies died favce down in the mud in Nam do that we could all enjoy this family restaurant.)

Today, some Chinaman (Asian American is the preferred nomeclature, I realise) showed me where the Ralphs store in the film is located. Where the Dude -- or his Dudeness, Duder or El Duderino if your'e not into the whole brevity thing -- opens the milk carton in the second scene of the movie.

I went in and asked for a loyalty card (the Dude's only form of ID). They peed on my metaphorical rug, though. No loyalty card for me. I had to make do with a beverage and a Ralph's Savers' Club plastic bag.

Bummer. Sometimes you eat the bar and sometimes the bar eats you. It's some kind of eastern thing.

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