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Now that the Red Sox no longer wear the mantle of God's chosen losers, will playwrights, poets, and Boston barkeeps stop citing the team as a metaphor for existential angst? If so, the title of Most Downtrodden Fan Base could be up for grabs. Although the group of L.A. pessimists haunting Dodger Blues wallows in the perceived woes of their sun-dappled team like season-ticket holders waiting out a September rain delay at Wrigley Field (Cubs losing 8 - 1), we won't bedgrudge them their moment in the shade. Still, perusing these funny Dodger quotes, complete with sarcasm-laced annotations worthy of East Coast depressives; browsing the feature Frustrated Fan of the Month; and rummaging through opinions like "So the outfield sucks," we imagine long-suffering fans of the Giants (last World Series W: 1954) clenching their teeth at the self-indulgence. On the other hand, check out the L.A. roster and note the salary of ex-Giant Jason Schmidt (1 - 4, disabled). Now that's grumble-worthy.

Colorful and funky murals throughout Southern California decorate many Mexican markets, restaurants, and taco trucks. As this site lovingly documents, these vibrant works of art sit squarely at the delicious intersection of folk art and food. Tony Mora stakes out L.A.-area carnicerias and lets his pictures of these "surreal and fanciful" paintings do the talking. Stop by and see cows grazing in a grass of fluorescent green or a mermaid awash in shrimp cocktail and octopus. Certain recurring themes make appearances, including La Virgin de Guadalupe, plump pigs, and abundant plates of food. Even if you're not a fan of Mexican food (blaspheme!), you'll enjoy the rich colors and outlandish themes of these marvelous murals.

Like many major cities, Los Angeles doesn't like it when shopping carts are discarded on its streets—and it's passed legislation forbidding it. Now, photographer Morgan Hager takes to the sidewalks, ravines, and fields of the City of Angels to document the outlaw carts in the wild. In the process, he does for the shopping cart what Sam Mendes did for the plastic bag in "American Beauty": He lends it a mournful dignity. Here, various carts nose up to garbage cans, linger under a tree, or park beneath a "No Parking" sign. Sometimes the metal wheeled bins lurk far off in the distance, as if too shy or wary to come closer. It's almost heartening to see some form of contact between the "modern-day pack mule" and another object, even if it is just a lone plastic bag. (They meet, at last!)