Jul. 23rd, 2005

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For all that you read in the newspapers about dead heiresses and the movie stars that murder them, Neptune, California is actually a decent place to raise children. At least, I seem to have turned out all right -- or I would have turned out fine if not for the dead heiress and the movie star that killed her. Really, though.

Neptune’s got pretty much everything a person could ever hope for in a town -- an excellent school system, a practically non-existent unemployment rate (ask anybody from the right side of town -- being rich is work) and beach access for anybody who isn’t allergic to salt, sea, sand or sun.

Admittedly the night life leaves a little bit to be desired, but it is, after all, we’re talking about a decent place to raise children. Of course that’s discounting the prerequisite seedy motel for late night trysts, a favorite of philandering rich people who don’t realize that the Camelot is the first place that private investigators (namely me) look, and an innumerable amount of trashy bars that accept fake IDs indiscriminately -- so maybe I’m wrong about there not being anything to do in Neptune at night.

Still, it’s not as bad as it could be, and did I mention the excellent school system? As long as you remain on the good side of Vice Principal Clemmons you’re golden, though if you don’t (and I can hardly blame you), I recommend blackmail.

Especially if you aren’t one of the few -- the proud -- the 09ers. Their zip code defines their very existence, and it makes sense. Anything other than 90909 and you’re practically grazing the poverty line. Neptune is sorely lacking in a middle class.

Ah, Neptune. It’s far from perfect but I suppose that there are worse places to call home, right?


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