New Year's Humbug

2004 Can suck it.

New Year's is always a let down. Ever since I realized that all the cool shit goes down in Manchester and London and Rio and Buenos Aires and that I usually don't have; a) a fuckwad of disposable money and b) a massive amount of time and ecstacy, it's always been the 'ho-hummest' of holidays.

It's also Amateur night at the Apollo as far as people getting drunk. Real alcoholics like myself dread the idea of hanging out at some bar with a whole bunch of secretaries that are wasted on Blue hawaiians and Margaritas, and on New Year's, that's all you get. Take your TGI-Fridays platter of tater-skins and go right back to the awful suburban condo you crawled out of you horrid zombie drones. And then there's the salespeople, desperately trying to drown out another year of selling their soul down the river by engaging in an all night attempt to recreate that time in the frathouse when they were so drunk that eating a maraschino cherry out of their friend's asshole seemed like a good idea. Just look around on January 31st, he's every other guy you see.

So here's to a shitty year coming to a shitty end. I guess we'll see if we as a culture have bottomed out or if it's possible to continue the slide we're currently witnessing into a muck-filled cesspool of retarded awfulness.

Merry New Year. Back with something more positive after Bob in accounting's vomit is cleaned off the street.

Thursday Gazzara Blogging

The List Is Life!! Or At Least Easy Filling Material

In the interest of being a complete and total conformist who likes to pretend anyone cares, here's some year-end lists:

Top Albums (screw you, they're not Cds) of 2004:

1) Air - Talkie Walkie
2) West Indian Girl - West Indian Girl
3) Felix Da Housecat - Devin Dazzler and the Neon Fever
4) James Lavelle - Global Underground Romania
5) Phoenix - Alphabetical
6) Erlend Oye - DJ Kicks
7) Kings Of Convenience - Riot on an Empty Street
8) Patton Oswalt - Feelin' Kinda Patton
9) Eugene Mirman - The Absurd Nightclub Comedy of Eugene Mirman
10) Mylo - Destroy Rock and Roll

Plus honorable mention to the greatest box set EVER, Rhino records 'Left of The Dial, dispatches from the 80's underground'. Go buy now!!

Top 7 Movies seen (most came out last year and I saw them on DVD, so?)

1) City of God
2) Farenheit 9/11
3) LoTR Return of the King
4) Shaolin Soccer
5) Fog of War
6) American Splendor
7) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Now discuss. Not out loud, in the comments section!!

Why Didn't They Just Go To The Sri Lanka-Themed Hotel In Las Vegas?

Here's an almost verbatum account of the special news report that broke into programming to alert us to the awful catastrophe in South Asia.

"Earthquake..Tsunami...etc...Several AMERICANS....20,000 dead and rising...some of them CHILDREN...back to M*a*s*h rerun..."

If no Americans had been visiting, and the children were all saved, would they have reported it at all? Oh yeah, I forgot about the last 2 years in Iraq...

If you're so inclined, give.

If This Is Losing, I Don't Wanna Win

Saw the year end awards on The McLaughlin Group over the weekend. I loved Pat Buchanan's award for year's biggest 'loser'. He gave it to Hollywood.

So take that, guy who makes $100 million/year and occasionally gets put in the newspaper for saying the same bullshit about politics that we all do. You're such a loser! Why can't you be more like Britney Federline or Jessica Simpson?

What with the new moral majority being appointed new Sheriff and shows like Fear Factor and Desperate Housewives doing so poorly in the ratings because of their non-christian values, combined with the rocketing ratings of PAX and Highway to Heaven reruns, you Hollywood types better shape up or you'll be labeled 'loser' again by proven winners like Pat Buchanan!

Christmas Sfist

A Holly Jolly bar review column, desperately trying to clear our head of those damn dancing sugar plums so that we can hail a cab home, by Drew.

This week's special Christmas edition, "They Took My Bar Away!" (Loosely based on a David Letterman sketch about the cancellation of the short-lived TV series, 'Manimal' in 1983). It's a tale of love, loss and booze. As an added bonus, the bar reviewed has a big fireplace in it. And it rhymes! And isn't that what Christmas is all about?

There once was a place in the Richmond, Inner
Every time we went there, we left feeling a winner
The bartenders made drinks of wonderful taste
even though they were obviously completely s**t-faced

We were always treated well, like a duchess or duke
Granted the place usually smelled like a pile of puke
But for drunken good times near the middle of Fell
It was hard to do better than the old 'Wishing Well'

So imagine our faces when we recently did see
they've changed their name, and ditched the faint scent of pee
New management came and they gave the place a new shine
now instead of PBR and rotgut you'll more likely see wine

The Fireside Lounge is what it's now named
and the new owners should be somewhat ashamed
Gone is the dust, the grunge and the dank
the smell of yuppies has replaced the previous rank

But what remains is the fireplace, and that's still good
Nothing says Christmas like the burning of wood
So go on down to the Fireside Lounge, just keep one thing clear
You'll probably need to take out a loan to afford some of their beer

Happy Holidays fellow drunks! Liver..Out!!

On This Day, A Savior Was Born

On this day in 1948, Barbara Mandrell was born. As you sit down tonight for a big feast, try and think of those not in the Country music Hall of Fame.

Remember, during part of the year, the northern part of the Earth will lean more directly against the sun, and during other parts the southern part will, and that is the reason for the season. Or it's Jesus, depending on your gullibility.

Kwanza's way more interesting

Here's to another year of we liberals trying to ruin Christmas for everyone. Jesus is running scared. Only a couple more years of our evil plan and celebrating Christmas will be completely illegal!!

Here's to Evil!!

Thursday Gazzara Blogging

Happy Birthday Jesus, I Hope You Like Smut

Terribly busy at work, etc. blah, poor excuse, funny calendar, whatever.

Stolen with cat burglar-esque skill from Sadly, No, which sadly does not mistakenly redirect you here anymore.

Time Magazine's Body Part Of The Year

It was close, but the middle finger narrowly edged 'my ass' and 'these nuts' to take this prestigious award for the 4th consecutive year.

For sticking to its guns, for reshaping the rules of politics to fit its ten-gallon-hat leadership style and for persuading a majority of voters that it deserved to be in the White House for another four years, The middle finger is TIME's 2004 Body part of the Year.

It just sends such a clear message, it has a single mindedness and clear sense of purpose. Anyone gazing upon the middle finger knows that they are meant to 'fuck off' or maybe even 'go fuck themselves'. It is this clarity and lack of ambiguity that we love about the middle finger.

But the finger can't rest now. Word on the streets is that the phrase 'suck it' is gaining in popularity at an alarming rate and along with the alternate phrase 'blow me' seeks to unseat the finger's dominance in the coming years.

From The Desk Of Donald Rumsfeld

Dear Sir or Madam,

It is with a fair to medium amount of regret that I have to take the time out of my busy schedule to inform you of the useless condition of 'terminated' that your son/daughter has recently attained. It must be just awful to lose a loved one so suddenly, but if I were poor like you and had no other options than to send my kids off to war or to send them to work at WalMart, I'd probably be used to disappointment by now.

Let me assure you that if your son/daughter had posessed the body armor/Humvee armor that they no doubt wrote you saying wasn't being provided for them that it wouldn't have made a lick of difference. Chances are, they were killed by an explosive and as engineers, generals and other people smarter than you know, modern science hasn't yet figured out how to keep explosives from killing people.

Anywho, I could go on and on about how it was probably your child's fault that they died and how little personal responsibility I take for any and all so-called wrong assumptions and decisions that I have made. But I would imagine that to be misinterpreted by you as callous and unfeeling so I won't even bother.

Another unfortunate event is that due to recent bad press, they won't let me use an 'autopen' to sign these condolences letters anymore. So while it would've been nice for you to have a letter that you could have pretended that I gave a shit enough to sign personally, now you'll just have to forge my signature yourself.

Deepest sympathies, etc. etc.

Donald Rumsfeld

SFist Reprint

Staggering Through Fog

A weekly foray into the not-so-fine art of sitting on a barstool and gettin' loaded. By Drew. East Bay Roadtrip edition!

Besides brainy college kids and Pixar employees, just what is there across the bay? Quite a bit as it turns out. Sure, everyone knows about the breakneck gentrification of Emeryville and Albany, but there's just as many areas in and around Oakland that remain as they have been for many years.

The College Avenue/Rockridge area, conveniently sitting right on the border of Oakland and Berkeley, is a pubcrawler's dream. For about 6 or 7 blocks, you're pretty much guaranteed at least three or four bars per block, and some of them are even relatively inexpensive and quiet!

Ben & Nicks on College and Ocean View Drive is probably the best pub amongst a crowded sea of Rockridge watering holes. Beer selection is what makes this place, because you've got the complete spectrum from decent mid-priced brands like Full Sail and Anchor Steam to pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon for next to nothing. We like a place that lets you choose a dirt cheap beer, because the next morning when you crack your wallet open expecting moths to fly out, you'll be pleasantly surprised to find some grip left over for cab fare/bail.

Ben n' Nick's proximity to BART is another plus, and makes it an ideal place to meet up with those sell-out friends of yours that emigrated to the East bay so they could 'afford to buy food' or some such nonsense.

So put on your adventure gear and check out Ben n' Nicks. On your way over the bridge or through the tunnel, you can wave at the suckers going the other way.

Liver...Out!!

Do The World A Favor And Kill Yourself #5

My attempt at a 'series', now a nominatable art form according to the Koufax awards. Here's 1, 2, 3, 4



This episode; Those redneck douchebag idiots from Lodi, California that built a 50 foot-high soldier out of Christmas lights to show their 'support' for our troops.

Hey idiots! Apart from erecting a massive, blinking monument to your stupidity, what exactly did you hope to gain with your incredibly expensive christmas display? Was it your intention to fill our troops' hearts with hope as they serve thousands of miles away? Was it to remind your neighbors of the sacrifices others are making this holiday season? Was it a call for action from those on the fence about whether or not to serve in the military?

Truth is I don't give a rat fuck what your reasoning was. The only thing that comes across to me and indeed anyone with half a brain in their head when they look upon your vulgar display of 'patriotism' is that you are a couple of mouth-breathing shit-head hicks that don't know the first thing about what 'supporting our troops' means.

There are currently hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers lying in beds in Iraq with half their limbs blown off, immobilized with pain from their injuries and unable to afford to call and talk to their friends and relatives. If you care so goddamn much about your fucking troops, you would use the money you spent on your energy-sucking political christmas message and buy those guys phone cards.

You and people of your ilk, who go as far as buying a bumper sticker to support our troops and then stop there, are the world's biggest hypocrites. Your pompous, self-righteous cries for support are rendered completely empty by gaudy displays of christmas lights and your unwillingness to fight for things that your troops would actually like, like a DATE WHEN THEY CAN COME HOME ALIVE. History will judge you as the fat, corpulent, wilfully ignorant sheep that this administration needed you to be. But what do you care, right? You're just sitting around stuffing your face with Hostess products waiting for the rapture to haul your hate-filled girth into the magical sky-fairy cloud place.

So fuck you John Q. Patriot. Sleep tight knowing that if I ever become one of the 'troops' that you claim to love so much, the first thing I'm doing is 'accidentally' firing off ten rounds of Napalm down your chimney and then 'commandeering' your Hummer to run over your dog. Merry Christmas assholes!!

I Don't Even Know Who You Are Anymore!!

The Seattle Mariners, in a very unusual, uncharacteristic 'non-loser' way, are spending money like japanese executives at a titty bar. Yesterday, they ponied up for Adrian (almost as good as Beltran) Beltre. This comes 24 hours after signing Richie 'much better than Charlie' Sexson.

This all catches me very much off guard and for some reason makes me really suspicious. It's kind of like having your heroin junkie friend borrow your car so he can go buy back all your stuff that he sold for junk. You want to believe him, but secretly know that your car's never coming back.

Thursday Gazzara Blogging

Barbaric Barbarians Barbaring Shit Up!

Me Prefer moveable type to unreliable Blogger.com!!

To quote the Official Website of Barbaric Barbarians, "Barbarians are hardcore motherfuckers".

Yesterday marked the second 'get together and pound beers 'till you don't know what's what' event by the Bay Area Bloggers And Readers group or (wait for it) BARBARians. There was beer, there was lively conversation, there was beer, good times and there was also beer.

Overall, a really great group. The extra links over to the right represent some of the folks that were there representin'. Aside from event coordinator Scaramouche, I implore you to check out the great work put out by Blogenlust, It looks like this, Suckful, Shystee, King of Zembla and This is the Shit.

And stay tuned for a bar review of Nick's Bar and Grill in Berkeland/Oakley.

Mass Graves Get Me Hot

Quien es mas completely depraved shit-heel?

This is the sickest fucking thing I've ever read. And I've read some sick shit:

New York Times 12/15/04:

"Apartment Said to Have Been Scene of a Kerik Affair"

(snip)

"After the cleanup had settled into a routine that fall, the executive said, Mr. Kerik, who was still police commissioner, asked to rent the two-bedroom apartment for his own use. During his use of the apartment, Mr. Kerik and Judith Regan engaged in an extramarital affair there."

(snip)

"...one bedroom faced the pit of ground zero"

Just so we're all on the same page here, this guy FUCKED SOMEONE WHILE WATCHING WORKERS DIG UP A 3,000 PERSON MASS GRAVE. Top that Ron Jeremy, top that 'guy on the internet eating shit out of a girl's ass', top that anyone. If you can come up with something in your imagination that's more fucked up than this, you're more of a depraved shit-fuck than I'll ever be.

And before you regale me with story of that time you screwed that girl at the King Tut exhibit with the mummy watching because you just couldn't wait, remember, Kerik did this SEVERAL TIMES, and with publishing hag Judith Regan. Oh yeah, and he was tapped as the man to head the Homeland Security Department by your clued in president.

Thanks for lowering the bar, bald man!

It'll Probably Take Another Garment District Fire To Turn This Thing Around

As David Cross so rightly said on his two-cd freeform blast 'Shut Up You Fucking Baby', "George Bush doesn't care about you, he doesn't care about your Granny, or your street. He doesn't give a fuck about any of you.".

A NYTimes editorial yesterday pointed out an additional threat that far right-wing courts pose in the coming years. Naturally it's terrifying that Roe v Wade could be overturned, but check this out;

"If the Supreme Court drifts rightward in the next four years, as seems likely, it could not only roll back Congress's Commerce Clause powers, but also revive other dangerous doctrines. Before 1937, the court invoked "liberty of contract" to strike down a Nebraska law regulating the weight of bread loaves, which kept buyers from being cheated, and a New York law setting a maximum 10-hour workday. Randy Barnett, the law professor who represented the medical marijuana users, argues in a new book that minimum wage laws infringe on "the fundamental natural right of freedom of contract."
In pre-1937 America, workers were exploited, factories were free to pollute, and old people were generally poor when they retired. This is not an agenda the public would be likely to sign onto today if it were debated in an election. But conservatives, who like to complain about activist liberal judges, could achieve their anti-New Deal agenda through judicial activism on the right. Judges could use the so-called Constitution-in-Exile to declare laws on workplace safety, environmental protection and civil rights unconstitutional."


As Bill Walton would say, "Horrrrible....".

In A Perfect Democracy, I Tell You How To Vote

Courtesy (i.e. stolen) Norbizness.com

If you've got a few minutes (and who doesn't in these pastoral laid back times we live in?), then go here, and nominate this.

Given the number of steaming piles of infected rhino shit that pass for hugely successful weblogs these days, do your part to patronize and support blogs that actually try to entertain and aren't just written versions of morning zoo radio combined with Reader's Digest cartoons.

The Reason For The Season

Screwing with christians of course.

At most Border's bookstores this holiday season, near the exit you will find a couple of glossy-eyed teenagers anxiously awaiting the opportunity to gift wrap your purchases. They usually have some 'lord of the rings' style curio box in front of them with a message imploring you to 'donate to the shining light foundation or the eternal life fund or whatever.

First thing to do is to take a long time looking at the different kinds of wrapping paper. Make it clear that religeous and/or overtly christmas themed paper IS an option for you. Then as they're grabbing for the paper with baby jesuses all over it, ask for Hannukah paper, something covered with stars of David. Then sit back and watch as they uncomfortably wrap your gift, trying not to touch the pattern lest it burn their fingers. Weeeee!!!!

Then give them 25 cents for the entertainment you've received and then go home and rewrap it in old issues of Hustler.

Now That's Good Geekery

I was watching something on the Trio network the other day about hardcore film geeks. Not the 'I've seen The Matrix 10 times' kind of geek, though. No, these are the 'I am a danger to myself and others because of my severe delusions' kind of geeks. The ones that shuffle down to the Museum of Modern Art every week to tell the projectionist which changeovers he screwed up during last week's screening of Dragees Au Poivre.

The greatest quote I've heard in quite a while was by one of the obsessed film nerds;

"It wouldn't be good enough to have sex with Rita Hayworth. You would have to have sex with Rita Hayworth in black & white".

Wow! That's fucked up on so many great levels. You have to imagine a mouth-breathing guy with a fanny pack and bad acne saying it and it's just amazing!

SFist Reprint

A weekly exercise in keepin' it real about the San Francisco drinkin' scene, by your local barrespondent, Drew.

Whenever you're out knockin' back a few, it's always good to avoid the three 'C's. Crowds, Cleanliness and Cost. If you can spend a night out in the city and avoid all three of these evils, then the world is yours and all that's in it (or at least what remains in that dusty bottle of Macallan that the bartender is clearly trying to hide).

There's plenty of empty bars in the city, but most of the time there's a perfectly good reason that no one's there. Either it smells awful, seems like a front for a much shadier business or is just poorly located. The key is to find a place that has a crowd, but isn't crowded.

There are also plenty of dirty bars to be found. In fact, just about any bar that's not in the Marina or Pacific Heights usually has a pretty good amount of grime in it. If it doesn't, it's either brand new or not to be trusted. Most San Francisco bars only clean the place thoroughly after there's been a murder there, so beware the place that smells like Clorox.

And cost, of course, is elemental to whether or not you'll have a good time. Even if you've got more money than you know what to do with, an expensive bar is always no fun. The cost of the place determines who you're going to hang out with. And if you've ever hung out with rich people who only like to hang out with other rich people, then no explanation is necessary.

So is there a place that meets these three all-important criteria? Do you really think we would've dragged you this far if the answer was no?

The Expansion on Market just up from Church is an unpolished little gem wedged between hipster dive Lucky 13 and that place that used to be a Boston Market. It's conveniently located, completely dingy, dirt cheap, and seems to always be immune to a crowd unless you brought that crowd with you.

This is the perfect 3rd or 4th bar to go to on a bar crawl. Because let's face it, after the 2nd or 3rd place, you don't really care what the place looks like or how hip the crowd is. All you're really looking for at that point is a flat surface to lean on and a few bottled budweisers to calm the stomach and the crew here will be more than happy to oblige. The bartenders are always jovial enough, despite having to deal with the 5 or 6 regulars that seem to live near the door.

So if you're looking to avoid the unholy triumverate of cost, crowd and cleanliness and just want a good dive bar, look no further than The Expansion.

Liver...Out!!!

Snark! Whoot! LOL!!

UPDATE: Ignore the awful bitterness of this post. It's an act of the very geekiness I'm bitching about to complain about geekery. I can do better than this obvious 'rolling out of bed and smashing the keyboard' bullshit. My apologies.

I friggin' hate any and all internet abbreveations and 'in-jokes'. From 'ROFLMAO' to 'Wonk' to 'Blogosphere', you people that perpetuate this retarded nonsense are turning the internets into something with the cultural relevance of High Times magazine. At this rate, with just a few more geeky chat room shortcuts, the weblog community itself will be about as relevant as last month's 'Maui Wowee' centerfold.

What the hell is so difficult about talking (or writing) like a normal fucking human being? When you start creating gibberish words and phrases, you're no better than twins that talk to each other in a language they invented. It's childish, exclusionary and only serves to turn blogs into something that no one but asthmatics with butterfinger bits in their moustache read or do.

So do me a favor, if it's not too much trouble. Pretend you're writing a book, or at least a pamphlet. I'd much rather you took the time to write "I laughed until blood had soaked my underwear and was dripping down my leg" rather than the boring and nerdy "LMAO".

And finally, 'Snark'. Stop using it, period. Stop saying 'snark' and 'snarky' in place of EVERYTHING. If you're a sarcastic asshole, then own up to it. If you're a smartass, be fucking proud of it. If you're a goddamn jerk that gets a boner when you tear someone else's hard work apart, stand up and puff your chest out with pride. Whatever you do, stop hiding behind some 'cutesey' little bullshit word like 'snark'. I love everything the word represents, but I hate the word itself. It's a stupid crutch and it must be stopped.

I know, trying to take the geekiness out of the internet is like wishing more football players could do postgame interviews in Latin. I just had to try though.

Ashes to Ashes, Dirt to Bastard

Lil' Jon stole my bit! Chappelle should be making fun of me!!

Blogger Byron Crawford had a great piece recently about the late rap superstar Big Baby Jesus, Osirus, Dirt McGirt, or as he's more widley known, Ol' Dirty Bastard. Basically, his widow, who he hadn't lived with for years, sent him straight to the creamatorium to avoid any future paternity suits.

Hopefully my wife will do the same for me. I'd sure hate to see her have to share my pimp-like fortune with a bunch of whiney baby's mommas that are sure to come crawling out of the woodwork when I pass on. As you all must've known, I'm way too gully to wear a jimmy-hat, so if you got knocked up, then that's yo-bizness.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to try and swallow this balloon full of coke. Cross your fingers that it don't explode in my gut!!

Oui, Oui, Oh God, Oui !!!

Saw a completely kickass show last night. French band 'Phoenix' played at 330 Ritch with L.A.'s West Indian Girl opening. Both bands blew the fucking roof off the joint. Phoenix's 2 albums, alphabetical and United are both highly recommended, and West Indian Girl's self-titled debut is worth a listen as well.

Best comment I overheard as two kids were coming out of the show;

"How hard did that rock?"

"Too fuckin' hard."

Too fuckin' hard indeed.

Thursday Gazzara Blogging

Ow! My Freakin' Ears!

I've always wondered why people don't live in their home during a complete remodel.

No I haven't, I've never wondered that, because it's fucking stupid.

Of course, that doesn't stop one of the greediest corporations on earth, Honeywell Incorporated from having me sit at my desk and try to do my job as contractors break shelving with sledgehammers 5 feet away. It's ok though, they'll only be here for another week! Don't they know that I have blog entries to do and a bar column to write? How the hell am I supposed to muster up the kind of concentration that's required to completely ignore my job and focus instead on a webpage that is read by nearly 30 people every single day?

Unfortunately, it's kind of difficult to boycott Honeywell because they just about own the whole goddamn planet at this point, and it's not like you can decide not to buy the 'death gel' or 'supertank' that they just made anyway.

Oops, gotta go. Pretending to work while people drop beams 20 feet onto concrete while screaming in spanish is hard work.

My Apologies, You Bible-Beating Freak

Well? Sing my praises already!!

You know, I'm way too hard on the self righteous, moral-majority, 700 club watchin' glossy eyed Christians of this country. I'm sure they're not ALL complete hypocrites. Then again, I read this yesterday;

Here's a little sumtin' sumtin' from October 6, 2004:

"Bush introduced Mike and Sharla Hintz, a couple from Clive, whom he said benefited from his tax plan.

Last year, because of the enhanced the child tax credit, they received an extra $1,600 in their tax refund, Bush said. With other tax cuts in the bill, they saved $2,800 on their income taxes.

They used the money to buy a wood-burning stove to more efficiently heat their home, made some home improvements and went on a vacation to Minnesota, the president said.

"Next year, maybe they'll want to come to Texas," Bush quipped.

Mike Hintz, a First Assembly of God youth pastor, said the tax cuts also gave him additional money to use for health care.

He said he supports Bush's values.

"The American people are starting to see what kind of leader President Bush is. People know where he stands," he said.

"Where we are in this world, with not just the war on terror, but with the war with our culture that's going on, I think we need a man that is going to be in the White House like President Bush, that's going to stand by what he believes."

And then we flash forward to the present day

"A Des Moines youth pastor is charged with the sexual exploitation of a child.

KCCI learned that the married father of four recently turned himself in to Johnston police.

Rev. Mike Hintz was fired from the First Assembly of God Church, located at 2725 Merle Hay Road, on Oct. 30. Hintz was the youth pastor there for three years.

Police said he started an affair with a 17-year-old in the church youth group this spring."

Shocking! Absolutely shocking! Courtesy of Daily Kos and Atrios

Proof that LSD existed before 1960

Mmm... Now That's Good Irony...

So how do you think the students at Cal-Berkeley, arguably the most liberal institution of higher learning in the country, feel about how their football team was treated over the weekend?

They kick ass all season, everyone agrees that they should be playing in a major bowl on New Year's, but some awful voting system that tips the scales in favor of teams in the south and east puts Texas in a big game instead of them. Barely a month since practically the same thing happened in the election for president.

I would go on a much longer tirade about this whole screwing of Pac-10 and west coast football, but I really haven't cared one shit about college football for about 10 years now. It's like a broken record that plays the same 'we got screwed' song every single year at the same time. Until they fix it and get a playoff, I'll leave it to the hicks in south who have nothing else to do all year but get ready for tailgating the Clemson/Alabama game.

We're Losing Ground Fast, People.

Well, so much for optimism. Any and all thoughts that I may have had recently that things will eventually get better in this country, any hope that science and empirical reason MUST move forward and that there's no way the red state religeous nuts can stay in power for very long, I then saw this, and this, and THIS!!:

This is the most frightening brood of future Joads I think I've ever seen. The Duggars, sired by Big Daddy Jim Bob and his infant machine Michelle, are the complete embodiment of the dismal future this country faces. Jim Bob recently ran for Arkansas senate on one issue and one issue only; Stop those abortions now! They also subscribe to a family planning ideology called 'Prairie Muffins'. Bascially, you have as many goddamn kids as your wife can squeeze out. So far there's 15 of 'em. Oh goody!

I myself can't stand kids, and neither can my wife. So whereas we will be doing nothing to help the distant future, Jim Bob and his home-schooled army of intolerant abortion clinic bombers will march onward, choking the 2020 voting booths with glossy-eyed hillbillies who only stop drinking stump whiskey long enough to vote for whatever candidate promises to execute the most adults and save the most embryos.

The only thing that would make me believe in God as much as the Duggars would be if out of their 15 kids, 4 turn out gay, 2 become abortion doctors, 3 become strippers, 2 teach evolution in schools, and 4 are killed in prison for molesting kids in church.

Thanks to NMMNB and TBogg.

SFist Reprint

A weekly display of blind optimism that Saturday morning's hangover won't be as bad as the week before. Courtesy of your loyal barrespondent, Drew.

Ah, nostalgia. Almost impossible to create on purpose (i.e. Johnny Rockets), true nostalgia just has to exist. People can smell a fake a mile away, and nothing is more irritating than slowly realizing that a place is trying to force a wistful feeling of timelessness upon you. That amongst many other reasons is why it's much better to live here than some place that specializes in fake nostalgia like Las Vegas or Branson, Missouri (with full apologies to Vegas-ist and Branson-ist when they're eventually created).

In San Francisco, from the bay to the ocean, there's enough real history here thank goodness to prevent there being a need to concoct any artificial history. Walk into many bars and restaurants in the city and there's a good chance that the place hasn't been cleaned for 20 years, much less changed much, and sometimes that's a good thing.

The Ritespot on 17th and Folsom is a crowded classic. From the neon outside to the bitter servers and bartenders inside, I'm pretty sure that the Spot was virtually identical when it opened back in 1951. The one thing you've never been able to find here and probably never will is pretention. It is what it is, and that's a trait that seems to get more and more rare every day.

The food at the Spot is nothing to go nuts about, the service is usually slow and don't get your hopes up thinking you're going to get the best cocktail you've ever tasted or an imported beer you haven't tried before. Nope, you won't get much that's great at the RiteSpot, but you also won't be terribly dissapointed either. Consistency is what it's all about, and that's what you can count on when you treat yourself to true nostalgia.

Liver...Out !!

As If Anything I Write Here Will Make You Look Away From This Picture

Sometimes you have to do things backwards and pick the picture before you write the article. This is one of those instances. I mean, look at him. Is there a better mugshot ever taken? How did the cop behind the camera not piss his pants laughing?

The amazing thing about this picture is, despite the fact that Nick is wearing a shirt whose sole purpose is to distract you from his face, his face is all I can look at. If you look in his eyes for more than 10 seconds, you'll look for 10 minutes and then 10 hours. It's a window to another world I tell you!!!

A quickie, A Nooner, A Matinee...

Patton Oswalt writes a lot of brilliant shit on his site, but this is particularly incredible:

"The Peppermill is this terrific coffee shop/lounge near the Riveria. It's decorated the same way Martin Landau farts after a tamale buffet, which is to say it scares children and puts truckers to sleep."

We now return you to your regularly scheduled session of beating off to pictures of Frank Langella beating off to pictures of Rebecca DeMornay.

I'm Not Afraid To Admit I'm An Idiot

Several months ago I believe I proclaimed them to be the worst franchise in all of sports. Turns out that was just the kind of negative motivation they needed to post the best record in the NBA so far this season.

The Sonics, or 'Sonocs' as those in the know (i.e. Indonesian child labor) call them, still seem to me to be a mirage. They seem to be winning the way no team has ever consistently won before. Namely, by chucking like no one's business. They have zero inside presence and just fire away from beyond the arc all game long.

It's hard to pinpoint exactly why they've started off so good. I guess some possibilities are;

- Shaving off his whiteman's afro seems to be just what Luke Ridnour needed to become really good.

- Rashard Lewis is finally old enough to buy his own beer so he's not tired from hanging out in front of the Albertson's all night anymore.

- Getting rid of Brent Barry was the equivalent of surgically removing whiteness.

And in a totally unrelated story, I just heard that the NFL threatened to fine Big Ben Roethlisberger of the Pittsburgh Steelers if he didn't remove the slogan 'PFJ' from his shoes. PFJ stands for 'Play For Jesus'. Whatta douchebag. I can't believe I liked him once.

Fun With The Unconscious

Get me 2 cans of whipped cream and a polaroid camera. Stat!!

What's more fun than a sleeping person? Nothing, that's what. Whether it's writing 'fag' on their forehead backwards or posing with your penis out next to their mouth (or any one of a hundred other latently gay cries for help), the dead asleep or passed out drunk provide hours of enjoyment for kids and adults alike!

One of the most fun things to do with someone who's asleep is try and give them fucked up dreams. The easiest way to do this is to say strange things to them. Here's a list of things to say to your buddies as they enter r.e.m. sleep;

- Drop the Gun, Jesus!

- Hey everybody, Richard Nixon made ice cream!

- Ooooh, Sexy Frankenstein.

- I am Bike Cheese (courtesy Eugene Mirman)

- Osama Bin Roast beef? Not with that attitude.

And it goes on and on. Submit your favorites in the comments section.

...On Fruitcake and The Existence of God

Ah, Public Transportation. Where else can you sit next to someone, be completely convinced that they're having a cellphone conversation, and then slowly realize that they're completely fucking nuts?

This morning on the rolling despair machine known as AC Transit bus #82, a man seated next to me started talking. Now his cadence made me think there was someone answering him. He'd say a few things, listen for awhile and then respond. Only after about 5 minutes, and starting to pay attention to the things he was saying did I realize that the only person responding to him was the slightly less crazy guy living in his head slowly feasting on his brain.

Here is something close to an exact transcript of what he said;

"Yeah?"

"That sure is right."

"Those Ay-Rabs at 7-11 should stop selling fruitcake."

"I said those Ay-Rabs at 7-11 should stop selling fruitcake. It's nuts enough without the
fruitcake."

"Yeah, the Ay-Rabs."

"You know a snake's got a tongue that looks like two fingers. Two fingered snake tongue."

"Reminds me of those bastards at 7-11."

Unfortunately at that point he had to get off the bus. No doubt to hit the local 7-11 for some delicious fruitcake served up by the middle eastern snake gentlemen that work there.

And they said it was a bad idea to shut down half the mental hospitals and turn them loose on the streets? Hogwash! Imagine what a crashing bore our city's public transportation systems would be without 'em.