It was practically a half mile from returning to home when, in the left of two eastbound lanes of Saticoy, I had a vehicle up ahead not quite utilizing the squishy multi-purpose center to make a left into a business. I started right and once again was caught with Blue Bossa having poor rear and right views. There was a honk, I slowed, and as I was passed on the right the driver gave me the longest finger salute accompanied by an arm jab not necessarily indicative of a higher aim.

One my radio there had just been a public affairs program on KPCC featuring the news of the encounter prez hopeful Don had with a Hispanic fellow over immigrants and, indeed, nationality-phobia. How timely; the driver I had briefly encroached on, and indeed this white fellow admits he is turning red over momentary carelessness, was Hispanic and in a large pickup with gardening gear. Over many past occasions I admit filth emanating from my mouth and also, while kept under dash level, right hand fingerings of clarinet b-flat below the break. I didn't stew about the Saticoy reaction but, well, the hot reaction brought up a stereotype right after the radio spot.

Recently I had been wondering where a sports columnist for too long at The Times, one T. J. Simers, for whom I had no discernible fondness, had gone. One should appreciate such a blessing as this disappearance but I revved up the search engine. He reminded me of the kind of guys I'd known in high school who had combated the empty tank, so to speak, and had gone on to certain positions, writing and otherwise. It's called expedience; he filled many a column with articles and responses to letters sneering at women in sports. Yet one entry was a tribute to his wife. Here a column, there a column, tally them up.

The search revealed Simers is at the Orange County Register, and one response was by one of these gents who had oh so hated that liberal sump pit, the L. A. Times, but for whom Simers was a redemption and he was happy to have TJS at the OCR.

A stereotype I hate to admit exists and don't hate to admit hating its existence.