The heart of darkness revisited . . .

Today's investigation took me into the heart of Detroit, which was something I wasn't altogether prepared for.

Now mind you that I consider myself somewhat worldly and well traveled, particularly when it comes to my perceived experience with urban blight.  Heck, I was born and raised in a suburb of south Los Angeles, and one of my favorite activities when visiting the southland is to insert myself into the areas that are known for their danger. 

In Los Angeles, I've explored the location where members of the Symbionese Liberation Army met their fiery deaths in 1974.  I've braved the heart of the central gangland that is home to the Crips and the Bloods.  I've even been so bold as to slip into a nudie club on Hollywood Boulevard at well past two in the morning. 

None of it can compare to the surreal theatre that is downtown Detroit.

All kidding aside, it was really quite sad and defies any sort of reasonable description.  My guess is that it's is something that simply needs to be experienced.  At an unusual loss of words, I can only say that a significant portion of the area consists of crumbling, burned out buildings, and people either too damaged or worn out to care.

Of course, my time downtown also included a visit to Joe Louis Arena, where the Detroit Redwings hockey club pulled up short this year and rolled over in the last period to the Penguins from Pittsburgh.  Don't get me wrong; I'm no fan of Pittsburgh either.  The deciding factor in my allegiance this year was that Pittsburgh had never gone as far as to sign Bob Probert to a contract . . .   

As you can see, the arena isn't really much to look at from the outside.  One reason is that it is far outdone by a nearby sculpture of the arm and fist of the famed boxer from Detroit for which the venue is named.  Sadly, I could think of no way in which to surmount the arm for a personalized pic without some sort of misadventure with the downtown police.  Badges only fetch a certain amount of diplomatic immunity, and mine was tapped with an ugly episode involving a misplaced  . . . well, it's not really worth mentioning. 

The last stop on my downtown tour was a brief look at the headquarters for General Motors, something that again defies any sort of description but certainly rates a photograph. 

As many of you know, I am a loyal Chevy man and have lived my life within the cliché of having a father and a grandfather who were also loyal to the brand.  I'm thankful that neither Dad nor Grandpa are around to see that their flagship is about to be turned into a Walmart.   

And once again, kids, that's all I've got for now.  I'm tapped out for the day and have no further energy to go on with the description of a mildly unfortunate moment in the hot tub of my secret hotel . . .

Maybe tomorrow, okay?  If I remember . . .