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We dropped by Fred Sands' huge
apricot-colored Italianate villa this morning to see if we could get in
to his sale of the gov, or at least check out the people bidding.  But
Sands' double-gated Brentwood manse wasn't the open house we'd hoped.

We were surprised when security shooed us through the first gate.  At
the second, where pink-shirted valets handed out roses in exchange for
the keys of a line of Hummers, Bentleys, Alfa Romeos and a stream of
common Mercedes, our ride didn't get a second glance. 
I only managed to snap a few photos over the fence before a private
security guard threatened to have me arrested for trespassing.  (Is it
trespassing if you gave them your name and destination and they ask you
to come in?)

Threatening as I am [really, really big], the guard decided it was necessary to grab the back of my neck and push me most of the way out once I'd agreed to leave.

Outside the gate we encountered (an) Arnold (impersonator) on the
public sidewalk holding his own for sale sign and watching donors' cars
as they entered the gate.  Apparently, even the air in Brentwood is
rarefied.  As "Arnold" turned his camera towards the security booth a
guard approached: "You can't turn your camera this way. Everything past
this line is private."

And that's where the gov spent his morning, in a double-gated villa,
breathing private air, collecting money and giving ear to the
California elite.  Maybe tomorrow he'll start learning about the
hundreds of bills that will reach his desk in the next two week