A Surfer Who Really Walks on Water

Surfer Magazine printed a letter from a Long Beach reader who said that during a recent stay in prison, he spotted Jesus in the publication’s photo of a “wave behind some trees.”

The reader informed the Dana Point-based magazine that “the Holy Spirit told me to write you and tell you that magazine will be the best selling mag in the history of Surfer. And the Holy Spirit wants me to ask if I can receive one dollar from every sale of this issue.”

And I think I deserve 10% of that for printing this item.

HERE’S A SURPRISE: In the months since a no-studying period was instituted at the Phoenix Grill on the UC Irvine campus (see photo), no one has demanded the opportunity to crack open the books.

“We have had no complaints,” said manager Frank Ghazal, adding that the sign was the university’s idea, not his.

CONTINUING OUR BACK-TO-SCHOOL EDITION: Sure, I know I’m late--but I was tardy to classes a lot as a kid, too. In fact, warm memories were rekindled by the ad that Adele Krohner of Chatsworth sent in a while back. Is it a class to tell pupils how to skip school? We didn’t need instruction for that back then. I’m just lucky I wasn’t sent to the scary-sounding institution that Rufus Baker came across (see accompanying).

A LOT OF HOT AIR: I heard a radio news anchor question whether the dry, hot winds lashing Southern California should be called “Santa Anas” or “Santanas.” And thus began the annual debate.

Some locals lean toward “Santanas,” claiming the word is an incorrect rendering of “devil’s wind” or “Satan’s wind.”

Some even believe the term was named after Gen. Santa Anna, the leader of the Mexican forces at the Alamo, though he never stepped on California soil.

But a Santa Ana--not a Santana or Santa Anna--is defined as “a strong hot wind from the desert regions of Southern California toward Pacific Coast, usually in winter” by the American Heritage Dictionary. And the dictionary says the term refers to “the Santa Ana canyon of Southern California.”

Whatever, novelist Raymond Chandler described it best when he wrote of “one of those hot, dry Santa Anas that come down through mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends up in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands’ necks.”

DON’T BOTHER TO DROP IN: Today’s tour of the celebrity graves in the Angelus-Rosedale Cemetery in the West Adams District is sold out. Notables sleeping the big sleep there, as Chandler would say, include director Todd Browning (“Dracula”), composer Andy Razaf (“Ain’t Misbehavin’ ”) and magician Harry Kellar. Hey, Harry, you know what would be a really neat trick . . .

TRAFFIC OBSTACLE DU JOUR: Things came to a halt at the corner of Highland and Franklin avenues in Hollywood on Friday morning. Reason? A stalled tour bus. (“No, ma’am, the drivers you see out your window are just signaling to you that Los Angeles is No. 1.”)

miscelLAny:

The L.A. Business Journal reports that the L.A. Opera has officially changed its name to . . .

The Los Angeles Opera.

Fortissimo!

Steve Harvey can be reached by phone at (800) LATIMES, Ext. 77083, by fax at (213) 237-4712, by e-mail at steve.harvey@latimes.com and by mail at Metro, L.A. Times, Times Mirror Square, L.A. 90053.