atkinreport.com

I was told many years ago by my father, a pilot, never to fly the airlines of a third-world country. Why? Because they don’t maintain the planes properly, he said. The US airline industry is looking pretty third world right about now with the recent groundings, preemptively by American Airlines–like, oops, we better check the planes before we get fined millions of dollars like Southwest did!  Southwest’s planes always looked really run-down and haggard, but that’s from a passenger’s view of the interior, and not a safety perspective. It always seemed suspicious that they were able to land, deplane and then load all the cattle on so quickly, with no time to clean up the crumbs and the junk snack wrappers. So it makes sense that they clearly weren’t on top of the mechanics, either. If I never have to fly that freakin’ airline again, it’ll be too soon. I never “got” Southwest. On my last regional trip–an hour and a half flight– with a cross-country fare of more than $350, there wasn’t even a tray table at my seat. I was told “Ma’am, this is a no-frills airline.” Are you kidding? And I fondly remember the time I asked for a cup of coffee and was given a packet of Sanka and a cup of hot water, like it was 1978.  I hear in those days, Southwest gave out free drinks, and I don’t think they’ve bought new planes since then. Hopefully Virgin America and/or Jet Blue will give them a run for their money. The thought of going anywhere on that airline sends me into a tailspin, especially now.   

She was eclipsed by another woman’s firing shortly thereafter in a tit for tat campaign-to- campaign catfight between Hill and Barry, as Chicago insiders tell me he used to call himself. But what’s really disturbing about Samantha Power being “ousted” from her non-paying gig as a foreign policy advisor to Obama is the fact that no questioned the Scottish reporter who published Power’s OFF THE RECORD comment that Hillary Clinton was “a monster,” creating a brief but intense media firestorm. Yeah, so, as a journalist I pride myself on keeping my word. If someone tells me it’s off the record, it is.  Apparently, sadly,  these rules don’t apply anymore.  At least in Scotland.  And Geraldine Ferraro….where had she been since 1984? Obviously not spouting off her mouth/calling it like she saw it. All in all, a prelude to the bigger race convo we should all be having.

I’ve been out of town for awhile–a post-Oscar getaway (more on that soon)–and it’s so nice to get back to the steps. The steps are one of my absolute favorite things about LA, even when I run into unfriendly, rather arrogant celebrities there like Owen Wilson and John Mayer. Owen used to come a lot before his reported suicide attempt, and he’s looking good, poor guy. Not a nice vibe, though. No one there really cares about any tabloid fodder in their midst, and the only thing that bothers me is people who spit, drip sweat on me or chatter on their cell phones. Oh, and the entitled freaks who let their dogs run unleashed because….they’re special. Luckily these constitute a tiny, tiny minority. But there are a couple of chicks who spit. What is up with that? Too much testosterone? And there was one disgusting wench who used to blow her nose into her T-shirt. This is why I keep a bottle of anti-bac in the center console for immediate usage. Sometimes you just have to touch the rails…