Most of this post is about booze and drugs

Good morning! We've got a lot to cover this morning, so let's just jump right in.

- How about that Super Bowl? I believe I said "Steelers by 3 in a surprisingly low-scoring game." As it turns out, it was Steelers by 4, and 27-23 might not be "surprisingly low-scoring," but I'd say I got the gist of it right.

Anyway, you really couldn't ask for a better game.

- From yesterday's Chron: "Popchips' marketer's swell spots to hang." "Russell Barnett, the vice president of marketing for the San Francisco snack company Popchips, tells us about his favorite places to schmooze clients, watch the sunset and blow off some steam."

I didn't know Popchips was an SF company! Even more reason to love Popchips. However, one of Russell's fave spots is the execrable Redwood Room, a little slice of what everyone hates about LA right in the heart of SF. Why, Russell, why?

"This is a must for drinks with friends and colleagues. It's classic San Francisco with a modern twist. Even locals need to sit in the Big Chair in the lobby. They just celebrated their 75th anniversary, and the best part is it has changed very little. They make a mean martini and offer delicious appetizers from Asia de Cuba - the tuna poke and lobster pot stickers are not to be missed. Out-of-town guests love the old-school vibe."

What in the fuck are you talking about? It has "changed very little?" It's not even remotely the same place any more. It used to be kind of a classic, if a little well-worn, SF hotel bar. Now it's a sceney nightmare where hookers, bridge-and-tunnel screech girls, and striped-shirt chest bumpers converge to buy $12 cocktails and try to impress each other. It's NOTHING like it used to be. As if you needed any other clue, your tipoff would be those old classics from 1934, tuna poke and lobster pot stickers.

Stick to puffed potato products, Rusty.

- Speaking of bars, we checked out Bloodhound, a new place on Folsom between 7th and 8th, Saturday night. I like it a lot. Same owners as Double Dutch, but don't let that scare you off. Bloodhound is definitely more of a grown-up bar. There's sort of a rustic vibe, with a reclaimed barn wood interior. Nice, eclectic crowd. Will do business again.

Oh, while we're there, Tom, on drinking: "I'm not an alcoholic. I just really like booze." You tell it, brother.

- So Michael Phelps smokes the pot. Now comes the utterly predictable and ridiculous public apology and shaming and "I'll never do it again wah wah wah."

Just the latest in the ludicrous and ongoing farce called the War on Drugs. Everybody with half an ounce of sense knows that pot is about as harmful as decaf coffee, but we have to engage in this ridiculous sham and pretend that he's done something really bad.

You know what the real message to kids is? Smoking pot can't even keep you from winning eight gold medals in a single Olympics, so how the fuck is it going to keep you from passing Biology? The problem with the whole War on Drugs message is that pretty much everybody tries pot and they find out, "Hey, this is no big deal," and they compare that the the scare-tactic commercials that are trying to convince them that if you take one toke, your life is pretty much over and since they know that's not true and they've been lied to, hey, maybe crank's not so bad either!

- This may be the longest single blog post I've ever done.

- FINALLY:

I don't get it. What's the mothers' beef with murdered children? Seems mean to go after them. They're already dead. Why the hate?