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THE URBAN MAN FOR KCRW, JAN. 1, 2007

Predictions for 2007 in L.A.

By Marc Porter Zasada

Once again, it's time to release my predictions for greater Los Angeles in the coming year. Once again, I’ve utilized advanced fractal modeling, heuristic methods, and media trends.

In the past, the Urban Man has predicted earthquakes, El Niños, and sudden moments of self-revelation along the Palisades. But for 2007, I predict a previously unforeseen economic calamity.

The crisis will begin quietly on Tuesday, Feb. 6, when—unnoticed by leading experts—our combined population of personal trainers, life coaches, and therapists of all stripes will exceed the total number of people who, you know, actually work.

This will precipitate an historic shift.

First, the price of advice and encouragement will plummet. A pat on the back from your life coach will drop to 5 bucks, a cheerful email from your shrink will go for a mere $10. The market in self-help books will crash. And by April, relationship columnists will be selling bags of oranges on eBay.

Meanwhile, a similar problem will grip our creative community as, come March, the definition of “art” and “artist” will have expanded to include every person and everything they create in the greater metropolitan area.

Every gesture will be considered fashion. Every blog considered poetry. Every discarded shoe will require gallery space. Cardboard constructions in Skid Row will appear on the cover of Architecture magazine and the builders themselves will become millionaires overnight. Ditto for your Aunt Maude, who will follow her chiffon Angel Cake to stardom…not to mention you with your little uploaded videos.

I mean, you’ve already made the cover of Time.

This may sound great, but when combined with the simultaneous crisis in the advice economy, the resulting art-induced inflation (or perhaps, deflation) will have major repercussions. Indeed, by summer, the meaning of wealth itself will have been seriously undermined. I mean, once Dwell does a three-page spread on every apartment in the Valley, and every YouTube posting leads to a longterm contract, it won’t be long before people start trading in their Bel Air estates for a 2+1 in South Central.

In response, the Mayor will inaugurate a program called “Live the Good Life, Free for a Day.” Under this promotion, every Angeleno will get to occupy a mini-mansion in the Hollywood Hills for precisely 24 hours.* During that period, he or she will get to sample comprehensive health insurance, a large SubZero refrigerator filled with designer cheeses, and a 102-degree hot tub filled with industry professionals.

Meanwhile, giddy Westsiders in designer t-shirts will be soaking up the atmosphere in Compton liquor stores.

Now, even with all that, L.A. might retain its essential character if it weren’t for the gas running out. Sadly, the last gallon will be pumped on August 7 at 12:13 p.m. at the corner of Bundy and Olympic when Joan Steinberg, a single mother of two, fills up her 2003 Honda Odyssey.

Experts will have warned about this disaster for months, but as usual Angelenos will have dismissed all unhappy predictions. Indeed, people will continue driving blissfully until their tanks go empty, and they find themselves standing on the side of the road.

No matter: We adapt.

By October, the horse-drawn economy will have revived, along with the buggy whip industry. Freeways will fill with surreys, wagons, and stretch carriages. Each will carry an artist in his or her own right, driven to his or her studio by a former past-life therapist or career advisor.

Yes, every economic cloud has a silver lining. The price of hay may skyrocket to $3.50 a bale, but each talented man or woman will have no problem keeping a mare or two in the backyard. Clattering down Wilshire in our open traps like so many smiling Claude Monets in our big smocks and wide-brimmed straw hats, we may greet the New L.A. with unreserved joy.

*Thanks to producer Ray Guarna for this important suggestion to the mayor’s office.