Life in California is full of vexing questions. Is Kamala Harris from Berkeley or Oakland? Should you applaud after that Nicole Kidman AMC commercial? Can we go back to regular-size pants now?
Alta Journal has enlisted two experts to answer all of your questions: Stacey Grenrock Woods and Gustavo Arellano, both of whom bring decades of hard-won knowledge and laser-sharp insights into the Golden State.
Have a question of your own? Ask a Californian!
I’ve always envied Texas’s slogans like “Don’t Mess with Texas” and “Everything’s Bigger in Texas.” They just look so good on bumper stickers and T-shirts. What should California’s slogan be?
—Celebrate Our State
Stacey: Got envy? You’re in good hands.
But if I could just shock you for a second: California does have a slogan and a motto. In March, Visit California launched a $32.8 million campaign to rebrand our state as “the Ultimate Playground.” It’s a clear improvement over our previous slogan, “Dream Big,” which offended me on a grammatical level. (I imagine there were issues with “Dream Bigly.”) “The Ultimate Playground” doesn’t exactly inspire pride. I can’t say for sure that Visit California copied it off BMW’s slogan homework, but it also feels too close to “What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas” and gives the impression that our state wants to be treated like a rental car or an Airbnb. California’s official motto, “Eureka,” is Greek for “I have found it!” and was originally meant to refer to finding gold in them thar hills but now seems unlikely to apply to anything more exciting than locating your car in a parking structure.
But I agree with you that we can’t let Texas beat us at the sassy-slogan game. Our closest approximation to “Don’t Mess with Texas” is “Welcome to California, Now Go Home,” which was born of the ’84 Los Angeles Summer Olympics and has held on in some circles. I’ve never been a fan of the phrase, not because I disagree with it but because saying the quiet part out loud isn’t our style. Nor do I think we should go for anything too ephemeral, like “A Nut Loaf in Every Pot, a Tesla in Every Garage,” or “Do You Want Ketamine with That?,” since trends change so quickly around here. “From Silicon to Silicone” is nice but has too much silly sibilance. I’d be up for asking to borrow Maryland’s tourism campaign, “You’re Welcome,” but only if it’s clear that we mean it as a response to the world’s eternal gratitude and not as a literal welcome. I have a few good ones on my short list: “California: Your Big, Cool Friend,” since that’s what we are; “California: Break Me Off a Piece of That,” which is both a joke about earthquakes and sounds vaguely sexual; “California: You’ve Arrived,” which is cool but implies you might stay; “Open Up and Feel California” speaks for itself; and “California: You Know You Love It” because everybody knows they do. These are all good, but the one I’m feeling the most combines the sensibility of them all, and I’m willing to let it go for an even $30 million, cash. Are you ready? “California, You’re Soaking in It.” Because, like that lady in the old Palmolive commercials, you are.
Gustavo: Game respects game, and that’s why I admit that nothing tops the greatest state slogan of them all: “Virginia Is for Lovers,” a brilliant dose of booster nonsense that no one believes east of the Appalachians but sounds so cute! So why should California even try? Besides, our brand is our shape, immediately recognizable worldwide—that svelte straight top and bottom that shows off our ruggedly handsome coastline, angled middle, and the mess that is the bottom right. (Damn, Arizona, you always hate us ’cause you ain’t us.) Our silhouette is internationally famous, a symbol of hope and beauty and promise that surely sparks more tourism than any state slogan out there, except maybe that of the Hoosier State: “Life Is Better IN Indiana.” Wow, sign me up for a trip to Terre Haute, stat!
Did y’all watch the Olympics? What—if anything—should Los Angeles do differently? (We can seal your answers in a time capsule and open it in 2028.)
—Gold, Silver, Bronze
Stacey: Of course I watched the Olympics. I’m a writer, so I mostly watch TV.
The only thing L.A. needs to do differently with our Olympics is to keep them far away from the French: no French dancers, singers, rappers, or creative directors should be allowed anywhere near the 2028 Summer Games. The French are very good at a lot of things—cheese, museums, boatneck shirts, bangs, philosophy, and perfume—but we’d all prefer they stay far away from large-scale international events. The Paris 2024 Summer Olympic Games were a live-action, citywide production of Amélie that nobody wanted.
Los Angeles needs only to do what we did in ’84, but maybe even less. The city did such a good job that the world hired us again. I know the tendency is to show off, but that’s how we got headless Marie Antoinette and swimming in the Seine. Let’s blow the world’s mind by just having some nice mellow games. And let’s get me those gymnastics tickets I missed out on back then.
Gustavo: I’m such an Olympics fan that I watched every sport this year, from badminton (boring) to team handball (cool but not really, since every goal or point or whatever scoring is called ends with the same damn feint-and-jump move) to the comedic colonialism that was Australian breakdancer Racheael “Raygun” Gunn. And since I am such a fan, I also know that hosting the Olympics is so beneath the L.A. of today. We’re not in 1932, when we were an emerging metropolis that needed an international event as our debutante ball, or 1984, when we wanted to showcase our multiculti democracy and an empty 405 freeway. The XXXIV Olympiad® will happen in the Los Angeles of 2028, a city with far-more-pressing concerns than hosting thousands of horny athletes from across the globe, especially since we’re currently winning the societal-problem pentathlon gracias to homelessness, political corruption, pollution, and overhyped coffee.
All this said, I’m an L.A. fan as well, and I believe Mayor Karen Bass will tackle all those problems and more so that the world can see the city at its best. That’s why I agree with Stacey that LA28® has no need to copy the Paris Olympics, save the opening ceremony, but instead of stuffing athletes into boats on the almost-always-dry Los Angeles River, put them in an armada of lowriders cruising down Crenshaw toward SoFi Stadium. Snoop Dogg driving the Federated States of Micronesia in a tricked-out Eldo for the gold!
Let’s settle this once and for all: Mountains or ocean?
—Surf or Turf
Stacey: I always knew this day would come, but I didn’t know it would be today. OK, someone’s gonna get hurt.
The Pacific is great; it’s one of my favorite oceans in the world. Even though I, like every normal Angeleno, don’t go near it. I like knowing it’s there. Living near an ocean assures me that, if I need to, I can make a quick getaway.
But mountains are also great. I do like how it feels to lord over everyone from on high. Plus, I’m a little short, so I need the extra height.
This is why my favorite terrain is California’s Central Coast: it comes closest to the ideal mountain-overlooking-coast situation. When they move Los Angeles there, I will happily set up camp.
But I’m not going to weasel out of this. You want it settled once and for all, so here goes: the answer is mountains, and the reason is purely olfactory. The smell of sun on pine needles is heavenly; the smell of sun on hypodermic needles is hellish, especially when you add sewage, bacteria, and dead fish. If there has to be a loser in nature, it’s going to be the one that inspires the quicker shower.
Gustavo: Um, neither? Between surf bros in Pacific Palisades, coastal elites in Malibu, the eeriness of the Lost Coast, pollution in Imperial Beach near the U.S.-Mexico border, an invasion of dildos in Laguna Beach, and mean sea lions everywhere, how the hell did the California Coastal Commission let things get so out of control? Man, where’s Mitch Buchannon when we need him? On the other hand, cool ocean breezes and oil-flecked shores sure sound better than wildfires, secessionists, blizzards, landslides, and Calabamans who dominate our ranges—but wildlife rangers are always kinder than the beach fuzz, you know? So, yeah, neither. But maybe I’m speaking from bias: I’m from Anaheim, where there was no need for the Pacific or the Sierras, since I grew up in a house with a swimming pool and just up the street from the only mountains in California that matter: Space and Splash.
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Gustavo Arellano is the author of Orange County: A Personal History and Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America. In 2025, Arellano was named a Pulitzer Prize finalist for his work as a columnist for the Los Angeles Times. He was formerly editor of OC Weekly, an alternative newspaper in Orange County, California, and penned the award-winning ¡Ask a Mexican!, a nationally syndicated column in which he answered any and all questions about America’s spiciest and largest minority. Arellano is the recipient of awards ranging from the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies Best Columnist to the Los Angeles Press Club President’s Award to an Impact Award from the National Hispanic Media Coalition, and he was recognized by the California Latino Legislative Caucus with a 2008 Spirit Award for his “exceptional vision, creativity, and work ethic.” Arellano is a lifelong resident of Orange County and is the proud son of two Mexican immigrants, one of whom came to this country in the trunk of a Chevy.
Stacey Grenrock Woods is a regular contributor to Esquire and a former correspondent for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. She writes and consults on various TV shows, and has a recurring role as Tricia Thoon on Fox’s Arrested Development. Her first book is I, California.
