Mural at the farmer Johns factory in vernon. Pictures of pigs in tranquility painted all over the outside walls that enclose their own meat slicing and sales.
If you love karaoke like I do, there's a ton of spots to check out in LA, but none quite as charming (or David Lynch-y) as Melody Lounge. Be forewarned, this spot is intermittently open. You'll know they're ready for business if they plant a sandwich board outside offering cold sandwiches and cheap beer. Hopefully, you'll get a chance to meet the owner Willie, whose (possibly embellished) life stories rival Hemingway. As for the song selection, the campy MIDI versions and painfully less than accurate lyric translations can suddenly turn your favorite tunes into high-wire acts (i.e. "Leaving On A Jet Plane" magically transforms into "Libyan on A Jet Plane"). Hell, they even have a song called "Schindler's List" on the menu! Even if you don't sing, Willie or his wife will gleefully take the stage. Special tip: for a true Chinatown boner, request Willie sing Enrique Iglesias' "Bailamos."
The Magic Castle is a nightclub for magicians and magic enthusiasts, as well as the clubhouse for the Academy of Magical Arts. It bills itself as "the most unusual private club in the world." A typical evening features several close up magic and stage illusions. Formal dress is strictly enforced and you must either be a member or be invited by a magician. The lobby of the Castle has no visible doors to the interior, and visitors must say a secret phrase to a sculpture of an owl to gain access, exposing the entrance to the club. What I enjoy most is walking through the corridors and staring at the posters and photographs of the history of magic.