And, now the sequel: Dead Poets Society...

And, now the sequel: Dead Poets Society II:

A dispute among residents on two streets inspired this headline in a Manhattan Beach newspaper:

“M.B. Council keeps barricade on Tennyson despite Keats complaints.”

Perhaps residents on nearby Shelley can mediate.

The latest depressing economic indicator:

Edmond Hakimitour, owner of the Xtacy Yogurt Cafe in West L.A., saw a woman drive up in a late-model Mercedes-Benz, stroll into his store and shoplift a $4 bag of gourmet tea.

“I know times are bad,” Hakimitour said, “but this. . . .”

He didn’t bother to give chase.

There was a different reaction in Burbank, however, when employees of a market saw a teen-ager stuff three pounds of swordfish “down his pants” and flee, said Burbank Police Lt. Joe Latta. The employees gave chase.

But the alleged fish filcher hopped on a bicycle and pedaled off with a second bicyclist, who had been standing outside. Police later caught one of the youths, along with the goods, but the other escaped.

“We’re trying to lure him in,” Latta said.

If New Year’s Eve seemed duller than usual, Dean Zander of Sherman Oaks has a possible explanation. You may have celebrated it a day early--at least, according to the postmark on a letter he received the other day (see photo).

No doubt the Postal Service is still trying to reorient itself after printing those handy, wallet-sized 1991 calendars that had Thanksgiving arriving a week early.

When Paul Carmello moved from L.A. to Fresno, he found he’d left his heart in the City of Angels, which says something about L.A. or Fresno, take your pick.

Anyway, he’s so relieved to be back that he’s written a song titled, “City of Angels (Los Angeles, I’ll Never Say Goodby).”

It’s a “jazz waltz” about a man who can’t stay away from L.A., said Carmello, 78.

He hopes it will be adopted as L.A.’s official song. But that won’t be easy. The city has never conferred such an honor, although a series of competitions held over the last quarter-century has drawn more than 1,200 entries.

The City Council once commended singer Randy Newman for “I Love L.A.,” but declined to make it the official song, possibly because it’s a parody of that genre. (Newman’s lyric, “Look at that bum over there/ He’s down on his knees,” is not exactly a paean to L.A.ville.)

If Carmello’s work is not chosen, we hope the city will reconsider our favorite, “I Left My Liver in the L.A. River.”

miscelLAny:

What may have been L.A.’s earliest gas station opened at Grand Avenue and Washington Boulevard in 1912 and charged 8 cents a gallon.