By Tequila Mockingbird
Los Angeles, CA (The Hollywood Times) 2/23/25 – I remember the style and fashion of the ’60s—not from living it firsthand, but from the movies that made it feel like a dream. Hollywood Boulevard was once a glimmering fantasy, a world of elegance and grandeur. When I was little, my parents took me to see the real thing. But by the ’70s, it was nothing like the films had promised. Instead of silver screen magic, I saw a city unraveling—a parody of its former self, with hippies on every corner and a slow descent into neglect.
By the ’80s, Hollywood Boulevard was a shadow of its past—dilapidated and lost in time. But with every visit, it felt like stepping onto a new scene in a movie, shifting eras before my eyes. Then came the ’90s—the start of reconstruction. The city tried to reclaim its former glory. The subway buzzed with movement, and LA Weekly was our Bible—a thick, juicy magazine, sometimes as big as a phone book, packed with everything happening across town. We devoured every page because that’s how we stayed connected—no endless channels, no infinite feeds, just the printed word binding us together.
Now, in 2025, there’s a new generation in town. The landscape has changed, but the questions remain—who rises, who falls, and who truly leads? It’s a strange era where the best often go unnoticed, and the worst seem to hold the reins. Some call it kakistocracy—the rule of the least qualified, the most self-serving. The world has seen it before, and history shows us why: corruption, broken systems, misplaced hero worship.
But I refuse to surrender to cynicism. I stay curious, aware, questioning. Half the time, it’s not the articles but the comments that tell me the real story. And in a time when machines and humans blur together, I can only hope for a virus unlike any other—one of intelligence, love, and peace, spreading faster than fear, uniting instead of dividing.
Maybe, just maybe, we’ll all catch it.