Before you are approved, our HOA requires one more teeny tiny little thing…
You must bow down and pledge loyalty to our angry, vengeful God.
The God of Toluca Lake watches over us all.
You didn’t think being successful, rich, charming, and likable would be enough to get you access to our exclusive community, did you? This is one of the most sought-after neighborhoods in all of Los Angeles. It’s peaceful, quiet, beautiful, and looked down upon by the watchful, single eye of the one true God, Stuart.
Or, maybe it’s Phil. Or Bob. Or Omi. We’re not quite sure, we just know that we need to stay in his good graces.
No…you used to be Episcopalian. That is, if you want to live here at least. Don’t worry, we still do Christmas. We go all out for Christmas, actually. This is a wealthy neighborhood with homes tailor-made for Christmas decorations. Have you seen Lilley Hall? From late November through New Year’s, that place is fucking magic. The residents still bow down facing southwest in prayer three times a day, every single day, in order to thank our great Stuart/Phil/Bob/Omi for their blessings.
You know there’s an actual lake, right? Some people think the neighborhood is just named “Toluca Lake”, but there’s a real, actual lake here. It’s just that you can’t even see it without exclusive neighborhood access. Which you can’t get without renouncing your former beliefs in order to join us in worshipping the avatar for the 14th highest-grossing film franchise of all time. It’s actually 13th if you combine the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe with The Avengers, which you should, but some places don’t (we’re looking at you, Box Office Mojo). You could probably also throw Spider-Man and X-Men into the MCU, too, to bump us up even more. But they’re technically different studios, so we’ll let that slide.
Leisurely boating. Jetsking. Neighborhood-famous potato salad made with love by a world-famous, award-winning actor. All these things can be yours in exchange for just a few small ritual sacrifices per year while chanting “Poopayel, Bee-do bee-do bee-do” into the night on the eve of a full moon. It’s very important that it’s full moon’s eve, not the night of the actual full moon. The last time somebody messed that up, Bob Hope died. I know that was 2003 and the Minions didn’t make their theatrical debut until 2010’s Despicable Me, but the Minions have always been and will always be.
Look, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s totally up to you. You can go live in the Los Feliz hills, or whatever. Good luck with the traffic when there’s a show at The Greek. You’d be walking distance from a Trader Joe’s here. And unlike the hell on earth that is the TJ’s in Silver Lake, here you can actually breathe. The parking lot is still a shitshow, like every parking lot at every Trader Joe’s, but that’s why being within walking distance is such a fucking perk. It’s all thanks to the small amount of blood we let pour out of our bodies and spill into the ground of the Lakeside Golf Club to soak into the earth in order to appease our overalls-and-goggles-wearing deity just one measly time per year (twice, once on each equinox, if you happen to be a universal donor).
You know Amelia Earhart used to live right next to the grounds of the Club? She wouldn’t do the blood thing. Look what happened to her.
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