L.A. has a lot of faults, chief among them the myth that the city can make you a star. That somehow the glam and glitter of days gone by will rub off on you and leave you transformed. Men and women, boys and girls come from all over to hopefully get a chance to make it big. More often than not they're left battered and broken on the Walk of Fame.
It's easy to chalk it up to naivete, and for some of them yes, that's exactly the problem. But for others it's a burning desire to be famous, to be important. In short to be validated. And really, isn't that what we're all looking for? Validation?
It doesn't help that when you have an army of ready-made victims stepping off the Greyhound from Kansas every twenty minutes that you inevitably have the predators who want to feed off a piece of their souls.
Like Anthony Augustus Jefferson, or DJ Tone, who is wanted by the San Bernardino Police Department for sexual battery by false pretenses, false impersonation, indecent exposure, and theft.
He's allegedly been hitting up models and actresses claiming to be a talent agent in tight with rappers who have likely never heard of him and getting them to pay "business expenses", promising to reimburse the women and then disappearing in a cloud of cartoon dollar signs.
To make matters worse two women have filed claims that they had were fooled into having sex with him as part of "auditions". I'm willing to bet they're not the only ones.
|He's a real catch. Like a walleyed pike.|