The new AT&T yellow pages arrived yesterday. Dismayingly thin (this is for Hollywood/West Hollywood), which of course means ads are down. Guess everybody uses the ‘net; I sure do.
I live in an apartment building, and the books are placed next to the front door of every apartment. I’m constantly amazed (though no longer surprised) that many people who aren’t going to use the books (fair enough) don’t take them in and toss ’em in the trash. Rather, they just let the books sit by their front door — for weeks, I’ve seen.
This morning, I saw that someone had taken two and just tossed ’em on the driveway in front of the building — not by anybody’s front door; not in the trash.
The people who live in my building (some of ’em, anyway) aren’t the only lazy ones: for several years, the Yellow Pages delivery person would simply drop all the books in a single pile at the front of the building; where it would remain, only somewhat diminishing, until somebody took the whole bunch back to the Dumpster.
Add to the list of jobs I’m glad I don’t have: Yellow Pages classified salesman.
There was a decent L.A. band called the Yellow Payges, whose manager conned AT&T into using in a commercial. Other than that, and a residency as house band at the Hullabaloo, they never amounted to anything. Among the musicians passing through the group were Mickey Rooney Jr. (who later cut an album produced by Curt Boettcher) and Donnie Dacus.