Meeting David Liebe Hart

I swear to God, I said it when we first came here a month and a half ago: the only celebrity I wanted to meet in Los Angeles is David Liebe Hart. You can ask Christin. For a while there, I was driving her crazy by repeating "Salame!" over and over. I was even answering my phone with the Corrinean greeting. And for some strange reason, I just knew in my heart of hearts, I was destined to make David's acquaintance.

And by God–or rather, by the power of the Corrineans–I did.

For the unfamiliar, David Liebe Hart is an L.A. eccentric-turned-cult celebrity, thanks in part to the Tim and Eric Show. When we used to work on Tim and Eric Nite Live at Super Deluxe, his appearances on there were always the scene-stealers. He sings songs. He plays with puppets. He goes off about the secret race of aliens currently inhabiting human forms on this planet, the Corrineans. And apparently, that's what he's been doing for years, be it on Los Angeles public access, outside the Hollywood Bowl or on Adult Swim.

Anyways, two days ago, we were visiting the L.A.C.M.A. (that's the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, you dilettantes!) when Christin and I decided to take a break from all those boring DeBuffet's, Picasso's and Twombley's to take a walk in the museum's park. Just as we were coming up on the La Brea Tar Pits there, we couldn't believe our eyes. No, it wasn't the ancient bubbling pools of black stench that took our breath away. It was David Liebe Hart, sitting on a park bench, offering to do "Portraits. Drawings. Sketches." for three dollars.

"David Liebe Hart! Salame!" is what we both said before shaking his hand. He didn't miss a beat. He replied right back with a cordial "Salame!" as if we were all old friends, reuniting at long last. However, this cheerful mood did not last for long. After lamenting that we were the only people who recognized him all day, David launched into what I suspect has become a well-worn rant of his.

Apparently, he's broke and heartbroken. And there's a long list of people to blame. According to David, he never really received much money for appearing on Tim and Eric or for the recent tour he joined them on. And he's got some beef with Tim Heidecker in particular, although I couldn't follow what it was. He says the top brass at Turner have also dicked him out of his artistic due. And then there's the "Hollywood producers." He insinuated that, over the years, he's been blackballed for either crossing their collective paths or making light of homosexuality. Gary Marshall's name came up. Supposedly, David had some kind of falling out with the Happy Days creator.

Perhaps his most surprising bone of contention is with the Church of Christian Scientists. I'm a dork so I actually knew that he had been raised in the Church and even had a public access show here in Los Angeles where he used to espouse their doctrine of insanity for all to enjoy. Well, that's no longer. He says he's broken ties with them because of their wanton racism. He says he (and other blacks in the Church) were repeatedly discriminated against, despite his years of faithful service.

On top of all this, it sounds like the wounds from a divorce back in the 90's still haven't healed, either. David said his ex-wife still treats him unkindly and that she used to be beautiful and svelt, but has since ballooned up like a sea lion.

In between all of these grievances, he also claimed that he once was roommates with Robin Williams. Discussing this later with some friends, it was remarked on how often this claim has been made among L.A. street performers and the like. We wondered aloud what is it about Robin Williams that makes his cohabitation history such a coveted property among the property-less. Perhaps only Robin knows.

Fortunately, all was not doom and gloom with David. I had one big question for him and that was, "Do you really believe in the Corrineans?" But I never even had to ask it. He was all too willing to talk about his experiences with the mysterious alien race. He told us that in the very same park where we were chatting, he met a girl that "looks like Betty Page," and that she is a Corrinean and that they now correspond regularly. He even showed us a print-out of his IM conversations with her. Sure enough, she (or "it?") claims she's an alien. She even sent him a picture of her in her natural state: it was a stock photo of a praying mantis. He also told us about another Corrinean who shrunk a man's penis just by staring at it. Yikes!

Eventually, we had to beg off. We couldn't take up David's entire day, although it seemed like he wouldn't have minded. Nay, we decided to pay him for a portrait and say "Salame!" And that's exactly what we did. As you can see, he sketched a mirror image of Christin and I, surrounded by a pre-made frame of his favorite sayings and whatnot. I plan on framing it myself.



I still can't believe we just happened to bump into David Liebe Hart, the one person I said I wanted to meet in L.A. I suppose that means our time here is complete. And what a perfect punctuation it was. In a way, David embodied all of the off-putting yet oddly endearing qualities that mark so much of the Hollywood experience: the shameless obsession with fame, the bitterness it produces when it fails to materialize, the constant self-promotion and myth-making, and the sheer insanity of it all. True, David's an extreme example. But I've heard his story in some form or another over and over since we've been here. Minus the Corrineans part.

OK, that's it. Lest this turns into some kind of Nathaniel West-ish critique of La-La-Land, I'll stop now. But let me leave you with one word...

Salame!