Westwood beautification ­ what’s the crime?

Westwood beautification ­ what’s the crime?

Okay, let’s play a little game, a game I like to call "Where’s
Peter?" Here’s how to play. I give you some clues and you guess
where I am. It’s as easy as a velcro prom dress.

Here is your first clue: what rhymes with snail, inhale and
ginger ale? No guess? Your second clue is: what do Jim Morrison,
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and O.J. Simpson have in common? Still
no guess? Okay, what three words do you say when playing Monopoly
that you never expect to say in real life?

I’m in jail. That’s right, I’M IN JAIL!

By the way, all that "roll doubles and get out of jail" stuff
just doesn’t work. I’ve tried, but the guards refuse to move my
thimble to the "just visiting" side. If you’re keeping score, I
have only made one of my two phone calls so far. I called my dad
and gave him the obligatory line, "Dad, I’m in jail and I like it
here!"

You probably think I am pulling your leg (that is a Grandma
Hamilton saying that means "I’m lying"). Well, if you want to bring
your leg down to the Hollywood sheriff’s station and stick it in my
cell, I’ll pull it for you. There is nothing to do here anyway.

But if I know my vicarious readers, all you want to know are the
juicy details. First, I want to address the rumors that have been
circulating in regards to my arrest. No, I did not buy a knife last
week. No, I did not buy a wig two days ago. And no, I did not kill
my ex-wife and her companion and be stupid enough to leave my DNA
leading away from the crime scene. Sorry, you’ve got my confused
with the guy in the next cell who is proudly wearing the letters
USC across his chest.

No, my crime doesn’t involve blondes or blood. My crime involves
posters and paintings. You see, I am an artist (and a darn good one
just in case you missed my show at twoPART) and I was merely trying
to beautify Westwood with my art.

What I was doing was using the large movie posters inside bus
stop booths as canvasses for my paintings. I would unlock the
advertising booths, remove the posters, take them home, paint over
them, replace the posters back in the booths and lock them up. That
way people could view art as they walk the streets of Westwood as
opposed to having to view advertisements.

Is it illegal? Yes. Is it wrong? I leave that for you to decide.
One thing is for sure, if I ever get out of here I will pursue some
other art project, one that doesn’t end up with the words "me" and
"jail" in the same sentence.

But I still haven’t given you the skinny on what happened.

Well, to make an ugly story short and sweet, UCLA’s finest
nabbed me. When they cuffed me, I didn’t even bother making up some
alibi. Really, once I saw their badges, I thought I saw a puddytat
and I sang like a bird. Chirp, Chirp (those are bird sounds in case
you were wondering).

Now, some of you may think that my crime is laughably minor
compared to the atrocities that are routinely committed by violent
criminals. That is what I thought. Surprise, surprise, my crime is
not a misdemeanor, it’s a felony just like attempted murder. My
bail is set at $10,000.

You see, if I had taken one poster, that would have been petty
theft and a slap on the wrist. But because I had taken 10 posters
in my grand attempt to beautify Westwood, that translates into
grand theft, receiving stolen property and repeated offense.

At first I thought the bail and the charges against me were a
bit steep. But after finding out about the infractions my fellow
inmates have committed, I can see why my charges and bail are
justified.

Here’s what my fellow inmates have done: the drug addict in the
bunk across from me is being held for possession of crack (his bail
is set for $2,000), the guy below him is being held for stealing a
car (he was given the same bail as me ­ $10,000) and the guy
on the bunk beneath me is being held because he put a gun to a
woman’s head and attempted to carjack her. His bail is set at
$100,000.

Boy am I glad I didn’t have more than 10 posters in my car
…

Anyway, since I have had so much time to ruminate over the error
of my ways, I have come up with a top 10 list from jail.

PETER HAMILTON’S TOP 10 QUESTIONS FROM JAIL:

1. Jail house fruit punch: Nutritious drink or hemlock?

2. Unfriendly police officers: nincompoops or USC graduates?

3. Screams from the cell next to me: lovers’ quarrel or fruit
punch drinker?

4. Toilet in the middle of my four-person cell: poo now or wait
’til later?

5. Stains on the floor: evidence from inmates’ romantic
interlude or tapioca pudding from lunch?

6. Self-given nickname: "Prime-Suspect Pete-Nice" or "Hell No
Bung-Holio"?

7. Jail house night life: poo now or wait ’til later?

8. U.S. penal system: effective punishment or complete waste of
time?

9. Bed linens: pleasant earthy yellow tone or antique urine
stains?

10. My crime: legitimate felony or artistic folly?

What else can I tell you about jail? Well, I am not allowed out
of my cell. The food is worse than anything ever concocted by the
Sproul Hall cafeteria staff. The humming fluorescent light on the
ceiling is never turned off. And there is absolutely nothing to do
but and figure out how many tax dollars are being spent to keep me
here so I am not a menace to society.

I know I did a bad thing, and I know my nose should be rubbed in
it like a bad doggy, but I’ve already been in here for 34 hours and
I am bored stiff. So, if you have the chance, try and send me one
of those "get out of jail free" Monopoly cards at the Daily Bruin.
They’ll get it to me, I’ll hand it to the guard, and bingo! I’ll be
out like trout and a free man once more. Of course, the best part
about it is that I will owe my freedom to you, my Viewpoint
fans.

Furthermore, if I get out of jail, I promise to be good, and
there will be no more trying to beautify Westwood with my art. I’ll
let Westwood’s inner beauty speak for itself.

Anyway, eat, drink, think, pay your taxes, support more
Republicans and build more jails so we can house everyone.

Hamilton is a graduate art student who is the editor in chief of
UCLART: a literary arts journal sold at the UCLA Bookzone and the
Armand Hammer Museum bookstore. It costs only one dollar, and if
you buy 10,000 of them Peter will be able to post bail.