SFist or SFGate comment?

Regular readers of SFist and SFGate may have noticed that the comments on SFist stories have . . . . changed lately.  Let's just say that the comment section at SFist, once a fairly SF-representative - and by that, I mean "progressive" or maybe just "stoned," I guess - place, has begun to resemble the comment section at crosstown non-rival SFGate, whose commenters run the gamut from slightly more conservative to batshit crazy.

Let's take a recent local story, as reported in both organs. The story involves a man who was smoking at the West Oakland station and when cops confronted him they say he freaked out and "resisted violently" and then when he was trying to pull a gun out he accidentally shot himself.  I mean, that's what the cops say happened.  I have no idea what actually happened because I wasn't there.  None of the commenters you will read were there either, as far as I know.

SFGate:

And SFist:

Below are a selection of comments.  HERE'S WHERE YOU COME IN.  Try to guess which site the comment came from, SFist or SFGate.  Ready?

It usually isn't ordinary tobacco I smell at Bart stations. Now we got a mix of gun smoke mixed in as well. Glad he accidently shot himself before he could shoot anyone else.

Great. Here come the white guilt protests tonight, please don't fuck up my commute home, kthx.

Considering they shut down part of the freeway the other night in protest of a car jacker with a gun getting shot by OPD, I think there will definitely be a protest about this.

Where are the protesters? I guess black lives don't matter in Oakland.

BART should close West Oakland, Fruitvale and MacArthur stations. Trips would get faster and crime would drop. I'd say close 16th St. in SF also but that area is gentrifying quite a bit (except the area right around the BART station, ironically).

This all means something, I guess.

Answers: gate, fist, fist, gate, gate

Let's get a new State Song, California

If you watch as much TV as I do, you've almost certainly been bombarded with those Jeep ads featuring what sounds like a scratchy 78 of a guy singling/warbling an old timey song.




At first I figured it was just some old song that happened to be about California and the commercial people used it because it's a targeted ad or whatever.

But no, when I bitched about it this weekend on Twitter it led me to do some research and by research I mean using Google on my phone and what do you know, it's the fucking Official State Song of California.  The cover for the sheet music is pretty terrific.

And has since been repurposed by other artists:

From 3 Fish Studios. This is beautiful and you should order a print.

I'm getting sidetracked here.  I don't come to praise "I Love You, California," but to bury it.  It's got a nice heart but it's a little outdated.  Let's trash it just like we do with everything else in the world and get a hip new Official State Song.

Look, here's a handy list of like 5000 songs about California.  Who's got time to listen to all those?  More importantly, why would you willingly listen to a Red Hot Chili Peppers song?  ("Parallel Universe," apparently, is a Song About California.)  No, let's just get to the finalists.

Our first finalist is "Estimated Prophet," by the Grateful Dead.




Hey, nobody said it had to have "California" in the title. Here's the chorus:

California, preaching on the burning shore
California, I'll be knocking on the golden door
Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light
Rising up to paradise, I know, I'm gonna shine

Nice, huh?  Plus it's the fucking Grateful Dead.  Can't get much more California than that.

When this came up on Twitter, several people naturally went to "California Über Alles" by the Dead Kennedys.




Little did the DKs know that when they wrote this in 1979, Jerry Brown would still be governor in 2015. Just not all in a row. Anyway, I'm not sure it'll work because it has a lot of dated references.  The song should be timeless.  Still a fucking kickass song.  Uber should use it in their ads!  Ho ho ho, that would be a quite a scene.

Probably any song by Best Coast, like "The Only Place," for example.




The only problem is that they don't say the word "California" anywhere in the song so fucking Oregon or something could scoop it up.  Oh right, there's no sun in Oregon.  But you get the point.  Can't have a state song without "California" in it.

Our final finalist needs no introduction.



Hard to argue with that. And kids, that's how "California Love" became our new Official State Song.  If you have other/better ideas, do share.

P.S. Next time we'll look at other state's State Songs, which I am tentatively forecasting will be lame as fuck.

UPDATE: I almost forgot about "California" by Quasi, which is as wry and sharp as a Dorothy Parker bon mot:



There, that should about do it.

What are we all doing for New Year's Eve 20 Years Ago?

Welcome to another installment of It Was 20 Years Ago Today, in which we bore readers in a very specific way: by looking at old newspapers and finding out what was going on 20 years ago.

HEY HOW ABOUT NEW YEAR'S EVE 1994???!!??

I know it's not today, but close enough.  I have here ads I carefully copied from the December 28, 1994 SF Weekly.  We're all 20 years younger!  Let's go do something tonight, for Chrissakes.  The Internet hasn't really taken off yet so we can't stay home and post cat pictures on the Tumbeler.  Let's go have some FUN.

What's going on at Paradise Lounge?

The Loved Ones was local fave Bart Davenport's old band.  I don't think I ever saw them.  The Broun Fellinis might even still be around.

Over at Great American, we've got a "Cajun New Years Eve" f/ Beausoleil.  I don't know what the draw of a Cajun NYE in SF is but whatever.  Also look at the night before, with Cake last on the bill in tiny print. Sadly, they would go on to much bigger type.

The Cramps at the Fillmore.  I think the Public Enemy show a few nights earlier would be about 1000 times more interesting.

Finally, we have something called "Mr. Jenkins' Big Block Party" at Embarcadero Center.  I have no idea who Mr. Jenkins is, but the lineup is kind of incredible.

The Brothers Doobie and Neville on the main stage.  And look at the "Big Bang Alternative Stage," with Cracker and the Meat Puppets!  (Also Engine, who later became Engine 88 and put out a great album called "Clean Your Room."  Here's a video of them performing the song "Pelican" at the 1995 Haight Street Fair.  I was actually in the audience at this very performance, back when the idea of going to a street fair didn't give me full body wretching.  Plus I lived right off Haight at the time.  Here's a studio version of another song, "Des Moines," with much better sound.  Now I have gone down the Engine 88 rabbit hole.  Anyway.)

$65 for Mr. Jenkins' Big Block Party.  That seems a bit steep, Doobie Brothers or not.

When it's all said and done, I think I would have been just fine going to the late, great 20 Tank Brewery's NYE party, where $15 includes a reserved table and a round of beer & pizza.  20 Tank was great.

Types of annoying people RANKED

Types of annoying people RANKED
— Cuhsandra (@Cuhsandra) October 7, 2014

OK.

28. Obviously fake name at Starbucks

27. Three abreast walkers

26. Bad tippers

25. Burning Man people who are super into being Burning Man people

24. People who don't give up their seats to the elderly or the pregnant or the disabled or someone holding a small child on public transit

23. No turn signal

22. Clerks who turn bills so they all face the same way before completing a transaction

21. Boston Red Sox fans

20. People who order five sandwiches in the deli line

19. People who constantly quote movie lines instead of having their own sense of humor

18. Weekend sports anchors

17. Relatives on Facebook who only post crazy right-wing crackpot stuff

16.  Bicyclists on the sidewalk

15. Loud bros

14. Takes way too long at the ATM

13. "I don't own a TV"

12. Has very specific diet; wants to make sure you know all about the diet and what they can and can't eat

11. Kid Rock

10. SFGate commenters

9. People who stand on the left side of the escalator

8. Teens

7. Sidewalk clipboard fundraisers

6. People who date your ex

5. Dudes who obviously ogle women and catcall and shit like that

4. Responds to lengthy text asking a question with "K"

3. People who leave voicemails

2. Loud cell phone talkers

1. Everybody else in general

This Kickstarter looks pretty cool, actually

I get a lot of emails asking me to promote things on my blog because (1) people mistakenly think I have some huge reach and am totally influential when I'm really just an elaborate newsletter for drunk cranks; and (2) I forgot what 2 was.  Mostly 1.  Most of these emails I just ignore, but I'm making an exception because this one actually looks pretty cool.

Local publisher Last Gasp books is having a Kickstarter for their fall publishing season and I am all about supporting the arts, especially when the arts includes "Beyond the Dark Veil," a "compilation of extraordinary and haunting photographs documenting the practice of death and mourning photography in the Victorian Era and early 20th century" or the "Fetish Coloring Book," which looks extremely dirty.

And here's the thing: a lot of Kickstarters have bullshit rewards like "OUR EVERLASTING THANKS!!! :)" or "Your name on the Memory Wall on our website which No One will ever look at!!!!!" but you actually get shit when you donate to Last Gasp.  Even as low as $15, you get one of two books.  For $25, you can get the dead people book or a t-shirt or even a tote bag like they're KQED or something.  This all sounds like a pretty good deal.

For $500 you can get a "Night out in North Beach with Ron" but I'll need more information on "Ron" and what a "Night Out" might include before I'd take a flyer on that one.

Anyway, I have never before pimped someone's Kickstarter but this sounds legit to me.  At least go look at the prizes & shit.

Did you watch the California gubernatorial debate last night? Of course not. I watched it for you.

You probably don't even know there's a gubernatorial election in November.  Look up from your bong every once in a while, hippie, there's a whole world out there.

Anyway, yes, there is, and something named Neel Kashkari is running against Jerry Brown, who has been governor, on and off, since Three's Company was on TV and puts the "elder" in "elder statesman."  Brown is a 2-touchdown favorite and basically will only lose if he dies or Neel Kashkari calls down his space alien overlords which is not out of the question.  The eyes.

Here's a synopsis of the whole thing:

Brown: When I got back on the scene California was a rotting, fetid corpse floating facedown in an irrigation ditch.  I dragged it out and gave it mouth-to-mouth.  Now it looks like Kate Upton.

Kash: Middle class.  I used to be a middle class.  Water.

There were some moments.  I've never noticed this before, but when a Jerry Brown is cornered or threatened, it turns BRIGHT RED as a warning to BACK OFF.  Like when someone asked him if cap and trade will raise gas prices and he said climate change was VERY BAD and someone said WHAT ABOUT GAS PRICES THOUGH and he puffed himself up to look bigger and flushed red and then tried to spit into the eyes of the questioner.

My fave though was when Telemundo host Dunia Elvir asked Kash if he still thinks we should send those poor immigrant kids home!  Kash stumbled around a bit and said hey I love kids but we can't keep them all.  Dunia shot him the best "bitch no way" face I've ever seen.

Most of it was pretty really boring.  Old Man Brown kept reminding everyone that Kash made a lot of money on Wall Street and Kash kept saying "water" and "middle class."  It's actually kinda hard to tell if Kash is a Republican or not, since he's for gay marriage and drivers licenses for undocumented immigrants and dogs in restaurants.  But he actually did pretty well, if you can get past the crazy eyes.  Close your eyes a little, Neel.

In a final desperate move, Kash said he would make sure that we could get the job we want.  Sweet!  I want to be in Guns N Roses, circa 1987.  Hook a brother up.

Grover Norquist went to Burning Man and doesn't understand how it works

Ugh, more Burning Man stuff.  Sorry.  Just ignore this if you want.  It's just been bothering me and this is where I let my grumpy-old-man-writing-letters-to-the-editor hang out.

Grover Norquist is a noted ultraconservative and anti-tax crusader who famously declared that "I'm not in favor of abolishing the government. I just want to shrink it down to the size where we can drown it in the bathtub."  Like a puppy you don't want!

Anyway, Grover decided he wanted to go to Burning Man because "There's no government that organizes this. That's what happens when nobody tells you what to do. You just figure it out. So Burning Man is a refutation of the argument that the state has a place in nature."

Right off the bat, Grover has a few misconceptions.  It's not like 60,000 people just materialize in the remote Nevada desert and organize themselves into a semicircle of camps.  While it's not controlled by a "state" per se, the Burning Man organizers most certainly do serve as a "government."  There are SHITLOADS of rules about what you can and can't do.  Here's a whole page of them. No tampons in the Porta Potties.  Never start a fire on the playa.  No audio systems stronger than 300 watts.  All cars must be licensed.  MAN I AM FEELING THE BOOT OF THE GOVERNMENT ON MY THROAT.  Grover's apparent idea that it's rule-free libertarian wonderland is a fantasy.

So he went and wrote about it for the Guardian.  His article has all the usual first-timer wide-eyed crap about naked people and drugs, but a few passages stood out to me.

A community that comes together with a minimum of “rules” demands self-reliance – that everyone clean up after themselves and help thy neighbor. Some day, I want to live 52 weeks a year in a state or city that acts like this. I want to attend a national political convention that advocates the wisdom of Burning Man.

If you want to live in Burning Man for a year, Grover, be my guest.  I have a few questions, though:  Who's going to bring in the food and water you'll need for a year?  After 3 or 4 months, the camp next door is going to get sick of you showing up every day with your plate out.  Who's going to pay for that food?  More importantly, who's going to maintain the roads that whatever vehicles that bring the food will travel on?  Will Burners leave and voluntarily go on road-paving details?  Because government bad.

What about if someone gets sick? If there's a doctor at Year-Long Burning Man, he's going to be working his fucking ass off providing gifted health care to everyone.  Is that fair?  Who's gonna pay for medical supplies?  What if the person who gets sick doesn't have any money or any shiny beads to trade?

What if Year Long Burning Man gets attacked by the Cliven Bundy Ranch Militia?  You can't bring guns to Burning Man, so who's going to defend you and your fellow Free Society lovers?  Certainly not that bad old government.

(Incidentally, I wonder if Grover, the author of "Leave Us Alone: Getting the Government's Hands Off Our Money, Our Guns, Our Lives" knows that he is NOT AT ALL FREE to bring guns to Burning Man.)

Also, the Burning Man political convention is too silly and juvenile an idea to discuss, but it would make for great TV.  I'd fucking love it if Mitt Romney gave a speech about how everyone in the audience had lizard heads with fountains of pure light streaming from them.

Don't get me wrong, a lot of what he says is pretty true, about how you need to be self-reliant at the event and everyone gives of themselves.  I think he's trying to make the point that this kind of attitude and behavior could be writ large in society and we'd all live in a government-free boho paradise, but this is the kind of thinking that most people leave behind when they start high school.  The fact is, Burning Man is a tightly controlled, self-selected community where everyone knows they have to provide for themselves.  When I went, I spent about $2000 to do that.  That money didn't come out of thin air.  In Grover's Burning Man fantasy, what about the people who don't have $2000?  What becomes of them?

Of course Grover Norquist is welcome to go to Burning Man.  Anyone is.  But trying to promote it as some kind of tax-free libertarian fantasyland is ridiculous.

OK, that's it for Burning Man for this year.  Hopefully all years.

The Burning Man "Rapture": Is It Real?

No.

If you're late to this, here's the theory behind the so-called "Burning Man Rapture": every year, tens of thousands of San Franciscans decamp to the famous dust festival in the Nevada desert, transforming our Fair City from a Skinnerian warren of crowded streets and jam-packed restaurants into a leisurely, spacious redoubt by the sea, wherein one can simply stroll into otherwise inaccessible restaurants at prime dinner time, look around the empty rooms, and say "I'd like that table."  To hear adherents tell it, the city essentially empties out and you can go anywhere you want without waits or lines.

I've been a long-time Rapture Truther, and I'll tell you why: It's total bullshit.

Maybe, at one point in time, it might have been semi-true.  Maybe in the late 90's or early 00's, it might have actually seemed like there were fewer people in the Mission, although it's hard to know how much to attribute to Burning Man and how much to any of the other 10,000 places people could go on Labor Day.  (I say the Mission because that neighborhood has always been a hotspot of Burnerism, but maybe not so much anymore what with the $1.5 million condos and the $5000 one-bedrooms.)

Anyway, a simple bit of math should clarify.  There were about 70,000 people at Burning Man this year (the most ever - it used to be in the 20-30K range).  Even if HALF of them came from San Francisco (a highly doubtful proposition), that would represent 35,000 people out of a population of 800,000 - hardly enough to make a dent.

But don't take my work for it.  Here are some data points:

No Burning Man effect at the Alembic. Noisy & crowded like always.
— Mike Cohen (@mike3k) August 31, 2014

The line at Mission Beach Café was wicked long at 10:15 AM ... so much for any burning man effect
— miche (@michesf) August 31, 2014

The 'burning man exodus' has become a myth. The Mission is crowded this weekend. The burners have moved to Oakland. http://t.co/dY2t8yTvpC
— Fred Sharples (@fredsharples) August 31, 2014

From an email I got from a trusted correspondent:

1. We went to new restaurant Plin at Valencia and 14th. Big room. Only available seating was at the bar. In other words, the restaurant was CROWDED.

2. We went to Dalva. It was fairly populated circa 10 p.m., but was NOT crowded.

3. Went to Elbo Room thereafter. CROWDED. Had to "elbo" our way through the crowd.

4. Sidewalks were navigable, but certainly not empty.

I think Fred Sharples probably nailed it.  Many Burning Man types, whatever that is, have probably been priced out of SF in the last 5 years.  Maybe there was some noticeable effect in some East Bay locations, but maybe not.  Anyway, our New City is not particularly conducive to renting warehouse space for your Fire-Breathing Dragon Car any more.

So there you go.  To the extent there ever was a Burning Man Rapture, those days are gone.  Stop resurrecting this nonsense every year.

Your Outside Lands timeline for today

12:05 Shotgun beer under the Crossover Drive bridge.

12:10 Enter festival grounds. Idly wonder who or what Night Terrors of 1927 is.

12:12 Oh, they're one of those swooping chorus electro pop bands.

1:43 Stop by the "USPS Janis Joplin Tribute." Now even the fucking mail is sponsoring acts at music festivals.

2:15 Run the Jewels. Hey, a black person! On stage, anyway.

3:05 In case your Mom is with you, "Magician Jon Armstrong" at the "Gastro-Magic" stage. Does Magician Jon Armstrong do food magic or something? Maybe he can make monkfish edible.

4:03 Eat mushrooms.

4:15 Attempt to dig up bottle of Fireball you buried last week.  Dig up raccoon skeleton instead.

4:48 Mushrooms beginning to take effect.

4:50 Decide to wear raccoon skull.

6:15 Is Bear Hands real or did Vice make them up? Why are they rotating in space and shooting out plumes of color?

6:28 Ascend to Third Plane of Astral Reality. Disappointingly, no complimentary food on this plane.

6:44 Visit the This Is Fucking Offal food truck, order sheep's gall bladder sliders.

6:56 Vomit up sheep's gall bladder sliders.

7:18 Halfway through Tegan & Sara remember you don't like Tegan & Sara.

7:22 Realize that all 120,000 people here are now heading towards Kanye stage.

8:40 Get to back of Kanye crowd.  I can see him!

9:38 Disjointed crying.  Escorted out by security.

The Greater Shitshow Theory

Yesterday was Bay to Breakers.  If you're not familiar, it's an annual event where a Kenyan wins a footrace, then people from Concord get kneewalking drunk and throw up in the Panhandle while careening across the city.  Before we go any further, let's pause for this picture from the Chronicle's Peter Hartlaub, which I hereby designate the Official Picture of Bay to Breakers for All Time:

What happened here?  Why did a quirky, annual only-in-San Francisco kind of event turn into a gigantic shitshow where 50,000 bad apples ruin it for the other 5?  It's something I like to think of as the Greater Shitshow Theory.  The GST works like this:

1. A group of people begin a regularly-held cool event.

2. When it begins, the event is limited to a smallish in-the-know clique.

3. Word gets out and more people are attracted to the event.

4. The event begins to grow unmanageably large.  The original founders are no longer interested and may be disgusted.  Coors Light is usually involved at this point.

5. The event spirals out of control and turns into a drunken shitshow.  It is either then cancelled forever or throttled by the authorities.

There are plenty of examples.  Castro Halloween used to be a uniquely SF kind of gathering where people would dress up in well-thought-out, cool costumes, head to the Castro, hang out and have fun.  Then a bunch of drunk assholes showed up and ruined it.  Believe it or not, when Santacon first began in 1994, it was seen as a kind of transgressive event, instead of the frat boy Jagermeister nightmare it's become.  To some extent, the same thing has happened to Burning Man, although it's easier for the People in Charge to keep a lid on it because of the remote location and high barriers to participation.  Suburban straights have even started to fuck up Gay Pride Weekend, as documented by the great Civic Center blog here and here.

History shows us that this is nothing new.  Woodstock begat Altamont, and eventually begat the dystopian nightmare that was Woodstock 99, which featurted the spectacle of Roid Bros starting fires while Limp Bizkit sang "Break Stuff."  If they had made the Human Be-In an annual event, it would today be sponsored by Red Bull and attended by dudes in sombreros carrying 30-packs of Bud Light.

True to form, that's what happened with Bay to Breakers.  I remember when it was a big, but pretty mellow event.  People drank - a lot - but held their shit together.  Here's part of a Chronicle story on the race from 1991:

A half-dozen young men ran the race in diapers while guzzling from baby bottles filled with beer.

The strange parade of fitness freaks and thrill-seekers also included four wild-eyed guys wearing ballerina tutus, a group of runners carrying a huge Trojan horse, and a gentleman decked out in top hat, tails and cane.

"It's a whole lot more fun in a costume. The crowd's enthusiasm picks you up. People cheer you on, especially if they can recognize the animal," said Grace Cooper, a San Francisco artist who ran with a flock of folks in penguin suits.

"Some people cheered, 'Go ducks, Go ducks! But we corrected them,' " she said, pointing out her orange beak, bulging eyes and polka-dot bow tie.
- - - - -
All things considered, the charity and promotional event went very well. There were no reported heart attacks or deaths. And brigades of green-jacketed organizers helped police the crowd while others collected the tons of trash left behind.

After the race, thousands of runners gathered at a nearby amphitheater in Golden Gate Park filled with huge balloons and booths set up by corporate sponsors. While some sacked out on the grass, others had picnics and listened to vintage rock and roll.

No mention of fights or people pissing on houses.  Yesterday I walked about a mile along Fulton near Golden Gate park, not far from the route, around 3:00 p.m. and was continually dodging horrifically drunk kids stumbling along the sidewalk.  On Central near the Panhandle, a guy screamed "FUCK OFF" at a girl wearing underwear and pushed her down onto the sidewalk.  Luckily her friends weren't too shitfaced to help her out, and the guy started slurring an apology.  Ugh.  The GST strikes again.

UPDATE: I just noticed that Peter Hartlaub put up a piece at SFGate about how shitty B2B has become.  Cranky Old Guys unite!

The Bachelor: This Just In: Soccer Still Boring

Sorry this is so late.  I was busy!  I had a lot on my plate.  It was misplaced.  This was someone else's job.  It was overtaken by events.  I'll do better next time.

Let us begin at the Girlhaus, where - wait, did Rootsy get her roots adjusted?  It looks like it!  Doglvr wants a one on one date.  Maybe Patches is free!  Oh, with Whan.  Anyway, Chris Harrison shows up for the preflight briefing and it appears the first date tonight will be with the oddly lupine Cassandra!  Hey, ever wonder when Cassandra's last first date was?  Soon we will find out.  OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Now we are off to Long Beach where Whan is playing with little Camilla and LONG BEACH, REALLY? What, was San Pedro busy? Geez, ABC.  Here comes C, who "hasn't had a first date since [she] was 18 years old" and apparently managed to get knocked up on that one so LOOK OUT WHAN.  Whan puts her in some buggy car thing and they drive into the water and both drown.  I WISH.  No, they float.  It's some kind of car-boat thing.  They drive around in the water and C squeals like a piglet.  Yacht swimming making out blah blah blah you've seen all this before.  Then back to the Bachelor house to MAKE MORE BABIES I guess and C can't stop saying how it's her first date in 3 years.  Jesus Christ lady, we get it already.  She's sweet but doesn't seem like the sharpest tack in the corkboard.  Let's move on to Looking at Kid Pix.  THIS JUST IN: "Trey" is Perez Hilton.

Also, watching other people look at baby pictures is more boring than watching a calculus lecture wrapped in paint drying.  She gets the Please Shut Up About Your First Date in 3 Years Rose.

Then we have a Group Soccer Date at, I shit you not, StubHub Stadium or whatever.  I guess they all had to pay 3 times over face to get in!  I'm kidding, StubHub, I love you.  PLEASE DON'T SHUT ME OUT.  Daddy needs Giants tickets.  Anyway, the chix all play soccer and it's about as interesting as any soccer game which is to say it's boring as fuck.  The only good thing is they appear to be playing without goalies which is actually the best innovation in soccer since hooligans.  Post, there's no rooftop pool? Fuck, ABC.  Between this and Long Beach, you are really cheaping out this episode.  No, nighttime portion is still at StubHub Stadium.  OK, Rootsy gets a hug, makeout with Andi, then The Sharleen takes over.  She's thinking about how "organic" it feels.  Whan clearly doesn't know what "organic" means.  Then they have a VERY WEIRD KISS that looks like he's trying to insert an object into her mouth unsuccessfully.

Whatever.  Free Spirit manages to keep her clothes on, somehow, and Rootsy gets the rose.

One on one date with Chelsie.  Whan plays her some Venezuelan music in the car and she White Girl car dances and they hit up the Venezuelan restaurant for some arepas and tequeno and paco de catillo and maserati or something.  You know what's good after a big meal of unfamiliar cuisine?  TANDEM BUNGEE JUMPING!  Especially when it's conducted by a Guy Fieri impersonator in a visor.  There is an ENDLESS sequence where Chel is wavering about whether to do it and JUST FUCKING JUMP ALREADY OK whew it's over.  

Standard Outdoor Dinner at City Hall.  Chel comes from a family of dentists and is the "black sheep" for becoming a teacher instead.  Holy fuck, if that's black sheep status in her family you'd be the Black 13th Incarnation of the Demon Azeroth for changing the channel when America's Funniest Videos is on.  She gets a rose, of course, and then it's the usual Concert by Mediocre Faux Country Act Who Stole the Guitar Riff in His Song From "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day.  Yuck.

Dawn Breaks at Girlhaus.  Whan arrives to make "Venezuelan breakfast," which I thought was cocaine and a chelada but is apparently some kind of pancake thing.  Whan think "Clare look reely good in piyamas" which I guess so.  Hey, wanna get crazy?  Instead of a cocktail party, let's have a POOL PARTY!  Disrupt the Bachelor!  Fuck.  Anyway, The Sharleen doesn't feel a connection because, you know, SHE'S NORMAL.  Oh, now Clare is freaking out.  Maybe she's normal too!  No, no she is not.  Anyway, Whan does his usual gig and talks everyone down.  He spends a lot of time doing this, actually.

Let's get to the Rose Cer and get the fuck out of Dodge.  Hey, Doglvr's lazy eye is especially sleepy today!

PATIENCE, MY SWEET.  SOON WE WILL SLEEP.  

OK, who's in.  Andy, Mom, Doglvr, Seriousleen, Elisa, Kat, Who the Fuck Is Alison, Insecure Clare, Who the Fuck Is Lauren, and Maybe Black Danielle.  We must bid farewell to Free Spirit and Some Blonde Chick Named Christy who I didn't even know was on this show.  "Every person deserves love," Free Spirit says.  Pack another bowl, baby.  We're moving on.

The Bachelor: It's Victoria O'Clock Somewhere!

This episode will be full of surprising departures.  Beginning with the fucking dog, who has decided to swim to safety and abandon this shitshow.

Swim, dog!  SWIM TO FREEDOM!!!!

Hairstylist Clare gets the first date apparently.  WHAT HAPPENED TO THE DATE CARD.  Getting a little free with the editing, huh ABC?  We need our establishing shit.  Anyway, Whan blindfolds her and puts her in a car.  That's how the Cali Cartel does it too!  This date will apparently end with a burning tire around Clare's neck.  The Abduction Limo delivers W & C to - what, a Christmas tree lot?  A ski resort?  ABC is so completely out of date idea now that anything some PA drunkenly mumbles gets made into a date.  "Winter wonderland! That's a date!" Whatever.  It's no winter wonderland for girlfriend's hair, I'll tell you that much.  MEOW.  Wait, what did he say?  "Looking at her smiling is better than living in a box?"  Oh, a "million bucks."  A ploos on the English Whan. 

Following some ice moving, it's over to the Hot Spring TM spa for some relaxing and WHOA CLARE GOT HER DADDY ISSUES ALL OVER THE SPA. That's gonna leave a stain.  Basically Clare's Dad cured cancer on his way to the Moon carrying an orphan and a puppy on his back and if you can't do that, you will not get far with Clare. After some lightweight kissing ("You taste like snow" she says - CALI CARTEL I'M TELLING YOU) they are treated to some sensitive guitar playing by a fat guy with a beard. HOTT.

OK next up is Kat who is V V V EXCITED.  Kat open mouth laughs a lot and I bet she's a good drunk.  They board a private plane and are whisked to - wait for it - SALT LAKE CITY!!!!  Nothing says fun like Salt Lake City.  I guess Cleveland was busy.  Anyway, K is furnished with a neon raver outfit and they're going to something called the Electric Run which is a real thing?  Oh, it's the "World's Premier Nighttime 5k run/walk experience."  What it looks like is the World's Premier Exercise Rave For Idiots.

Anyway, he gives her a rose onstage and the only thing that would make this bearable is about 3 tabs of X which you probably can't get in Utah anyway.  Utah.

Let's move on.  Group Date!  Hey, guess what? In a first for the Bachelor, Doglvr Kelly has not one but TWO lazy eyes!

Maybe "Science Educator" Chelsie can explain this anomaly once she comes down from whatever the fuck she's on.  Anyway, they are going to some kind of photo shoot when a man with a neon blue beard appears and tells them they have all been dosed with 100 micrograms of blotter acid and to find a buddy quick because the next 8 hours are going to be super intense.  Oh wait, PUPPIES!!!!  It's a "sexy photoshoot with the dogs."  This requires costuming.  Kelly dresses up as What Happens When a Meth Lab Explodes Onto Someone Wearing Blackface.

The 1st Grade Teacher is assigned Getting Naked With a Cardboard Sign but she smartly switches with Free Spirit Lucy, who would get buck for half a Bud Light and a handful of M&Ms.  Lady Lawyer Andi isn't so sure about the naked thing either but Whan talks her down and they pose with Free Spirit who seems to think this is Hustler and not Dog Rescue.

The Afterparty finds us all in sparkly dresses at the Usual Bachelor LA Rooftop Pool.  TIME FOR SOME FUCKING DRINKS.  Former NBA Dancer Cassandra has to come out as a parent.  She has a kid named Trey because of course.  Dad?

OK let's get to my girl Victoria.  Girlfriend is on the champagne like a lab rat on the cocaine switch.  She is dancing around in her bikini and spring breaking all over the rooftop and she is SO ALIVE.  Here she comes creeping on Whan and Pediatric Nurse.

WHOOOOOOO!!!!  SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!!!!!!

Then it's off to the bathroom for a good cry & decompensating.  Mom Renee tries to comfort her as she weeps next to the toilet.  Oh, now she tells Bon Iver she's going home!  ENOUGH OF YOUR SHIT BACHELOR SHOW!!!  So Whan gives the Rooftop Pool Rose to Lazy Eyes, for some reason.  The fuck did she do?  WHY ISN'T VICTORIA GETTING THAT ROSE?

Dawn breaks at the Ladies House.  Everyone is already bikini'd and discussing Vicky Cristina Barfelona.  Oh, she got to stay in a hotel last night!  JP goes to see her and I think she's still drunk and she's all "Sorry about last night" but he fires her and what I want more than anything is for ABC to send out a camera crew to follow Vicks around.  THAT'S THE SHOW I WANT TO SEE.

Pre Rose Cer.  Newshound Amy does a painful faux reporter thing.  HERE'S WHAT WE DO KNOW.  YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT.  Wait, who's coming apart at the seams now?  Cassandra?  What is the fucking problem?  Good thing Mom Renee is here to gently stroke anyone's hair who needs it.  Anyway, now Whan has to talk her down too.  Here's my advice, Whan: pick one of the chicks who doesn't need to be talked off a ledge every 5 minutes.

OK, Rose Cer.  You're right, Whan!  It has been a berry good week.  OK, who's in.  NBA dancer, Brown Roots Nikki, The Lawyer Who Hates Being Naked, Too Smiley Elise, Don't Really Care Opera Singer, Everyone's Mom, Maybe Black Danielle, Free Spirit, Who the Fuck Is Alison, Turned Up to 1000 Chelsie, Somebody Named Lauren I Think and Kristie the Stripper.  Sorry Black Chantel and News Team 7 Amy!  OUR LEAD STORY TONIGHT: YOU ARE DUMPED.  

The Bachelor: No Me Gusta or Something Something Spanish Whatever

The dream of America is real, a powerful idea that we can all become our finest selves, create our own identities, become who we were meant to be.  In Juan Pablo's case, the dream is to run shirtless on the beach in Miami and do "consulting for sports and entertainment" which is what coke dealers say they do.  HELLO EVERYBODY IT'S BACHELOR AGAIN.

Let's meet Whan.  Oh, he has a daughter, Camilla Valentina who was born on Valentine's Day and is admittedly pretty cute.  See what having a daughter did to me?  Now I'm soft.  ANYWAY Mrs. Camilla is obvi out of the picture because Whan is here to meet Camilla's New Mommy and also he's brought along his whole family to take reality show backdrop jobs away from Real Americans.  Oh look, here comes Big Dumb Sean to drop some knowledge.  Whan's worried because he "can't remember names."  Just call them all "Kelsey" or "Kristen" and you'll be fine.  Sean doesn't really have any useful advice but there was something about a skunk and 2 a.m. in Burbank that was probably more exciting than it sounded.

OK here's Chris Harrison.  "Juan Pablo fever has reached epidemic proportions," he says.  It's like Avian Flu but more waxed!  Let's see some chix in their native environments.  Renee looks good in a bikini and has an 8-year-old son who is "very athletic" and plays chess.  He could be a good mentor for Sean, actually!  Amy is a "massage therapist" in LA and she is really, really, really into massage therapy.

I predict a bright future in the Massage Therapy industry for Amy.  Nikki is a pediatric nurse who could use a doctor for her terrible roots and her anorexia.  Lauren, 35 but claiming 25, got dumped at some point and has more baggage than a Japanese tourist at a Louis Vuitton store.  Lacy comes from a family with 9 special needs kids and opened her own elderly care home at 20 and wants to find her own special someone to feed Jell-O to.  Claire actually admits to being 32 but could pass for 31 easily.  Her Dad had brain cancer and he made a DVD for her future husband to watch.  Too bad it's just random Animaniacs episodes!

L I M O  T I M E !!!!  CH is about to blow our minds because there are 27 chicks this time!  No, 50!  No,100!  No, a million chicks!  Everyone's a winner!  Oh, no, it's just 27, calm down.  Here they come.  Amy L. is a "local news reporter" who is the type you might recognize from such stories as Opening Of The Northridge Mall or Rain Wettens Local Roadways.  Christine is a "police support specialist," whatever that means.  Hold on, did she just say "I know your daughter is a huge partier" so that's why I brought her this glow stick?  Oh, "huge part of your life," got it.  This season's Black Chick is Chantel, who thinks people will have trouble pronouncing "Chantel" for some reason.  Lucy's job is listed as "Free Spirit" and you can tell she's a Free Spirit because she's wearing some kind of bouquet headdress and no shoes, gross.  Danielle is ambiguously ethnic so we might have 1.5 black chicks this season.  Then some girl rides up on a bicycle slash piano like it's Burning Man.  The fuck.

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE.  Claire is a hairstylist from Sacramento who shows up, for some reason, with a fake pregnancy bulge because you know being visibly pregnant with someone else's child is the best way to land a mate.  Maggie the Personal Banker has a gift for Whan!  It's a "fishin hook."  OK then.  Kelly's job is "Dog Lover" which might be a job in Georgia but is totally illegal in California.  Alexis turns on the Spanish.  PREDICTION: We are going to hear a lot of bad Spanish this season.  El espanol es muy malo.  Muy muy malo.

OK so Whan wades into the Chickicane and let's get this party started.  Hey look a photobooth.  Nothing says fun like forced frivolity.  Time to chat up some ladies.  The Free Spirit has dead eyes and might be the kind of girl who drives around the country killing 7-Eleven clerks.

You know who else was a "free spirit"? HITLER.

Oh good, Whan has a First Impression Rose to give out.  "It's not just a rose," says Fishin Hook.  "It's my future."  Jesus Christ, Hook, slow the fuck down.  Actually it is just a rose.  Personal Banking is your future.  Do you have goals? Visualize your goals.  You are in control.  Awkward talk with Elise!  Her Mom just passed away.  WAY TO HARSH OUR MELLOW ELISE.  Geez, why you gotta bring the stench of death into the proceedings?  Lauren35 is STILL fucking broken up about being left at the altar.  Lauren. Honey. Therapy FIRST, then National TV.  TFTNT, I always say.  Easy to remember!  LEARN IT LAUREN35.  Anyway, good way to break the ice with JP.  I'M SUPER GOOD AT GETTING DUMPED.  PLEASE HOLD ME.  

Whan seems to like the Opera Singer who lives in Germany.  Oddly, she seems normal.  He proffers the First Impression Rose and she's like what the fuh!  DAMMIT GIRL DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW THIS WORKS.  Listen bitch do you want to be on TV or not.  Finally she caves and takes it.  They always take it.

Our first Rose Ceremony!  This is a Special Time for us, you guys.  I love being on The Journey again.  Jesus what am I saying I'm scaring myself now.  OK.  OK.  Here are my favorite contestants so far.

Look at the way she's looking at us.  You know she wants it.  She wouldn't wear that jaunty scarf if she didn't want it.  OK, here come the roses.  Renee, Claire, Andi, Chantel, the Dog, the other Possibly Black chick, some other girl, Free Spirit Highway Killer, Nelly Furtado, another blonde chick, another blonde chick, whatever.  Fishin Hook and Lauren35 both get cut.  That's too bad.  Oh, and Massage Chick.  Guess it's back to outcalls for her.

COMING UP THIS SEASON everything will be a lot like every other season.

San Francisco can truly become great with the creation of a GWZ

Some tech bro just wrote another one of those why-is-San Francisco-so-terrible posts that blew up and made everyone hate him!  Here's part of it:

Just got back to SF. I've traveled around the world and I gotta say there is nothing more grotesque than walking down market st in San Francisco. Why the heart of our city has to be overrun by crazy, homeless, drug dealers, dropouts, and trash I have no clue. Each time I pass it my love affair with SF dies a little.

The difference is in other cosmopolitan cities, the lower part of society keep to themselves. They sell small trinkets, beg coyly, stay quiet, and generally stay out of your way. They realize it's a privilege to be in the civilized part of town and view themselves as guests. And that's okay.

In downtown SF the degenerates gather like hyenas, spit, urinate, taunt you, sell drugs, get rowdy, they act like they own the center of the city. Like it's their place of leisure... In actuality it's the business district for one of the wealthiest cities in the USA. It a disgrace. I don't even feel safe walking down the sidewalk without planning out my walking path. 

You can preach compassion, equality, and be the biggest lover in the world, but there is an area of town for degenerates and an area of town for the working class. 

(Thanks to Valleywag for the selective bolding.)

Tech Bro is right! We need an area of town for degenerates!  That's why I'm proposing the creation of a Godforsaken Wretch Zone (GWZ) here in San Francisco.  We can then move the Crazy, the Homeless, the Dropouts, the Trash, and Internet Explorer users there and have them out of our hair as we march forward into the New Utopia.

I propose a number of areas in the GWZ where the Enlightened can visit and do their part to help out the Human Trash.

In Trinket Town by Etsy, the gnarled underclass can sell their pathetic little goods.  You'll stroll happily through a faux streetscape and purchase their little geegaws with Trinket Town Tokens, which are not redeemable for alcohol.  "Oh look!," you'll cry.  "The little orphan girl is selling her handmade bracelets!  Let's get one for Skyler!"

Over at the Snapchat Shooting Gallery, you can fire actual coins and bits of chocolate at homeless dropouts who are "workin' the range"!  They get to keep what hits them!  You'll have fun and help out society's trash at the same time.  Watch out for Jimbo!  He may look weak, but he can move!

And don't miss the Genentech Garden of Diseases!  "Daddy, why is that man coughing blood?"  "Hold on, sweetie, let's read the placard.  Oh, he's got pneumonia and bronchitis!  Don't get too close."  "Gross!!"

What could be better than giving to the less fortunate out of the goodness of your heart, expecting nothing in return?  Why, giving with the expectation of a cheerful song by a happy street urchin!  Over in Pandora Panhandlers' Row, your (non tax-deductible) donation prompts one of our prescreened musical hobos to attempt the song of your choice!  "Play Teenage Dream again on your battered guitar, Mister!," you'll shout with glee.

We're currently looking for space for the GWZ.  Hmmmmm, with Candlestick coming down......

Your Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Lineup

Looks good!

Maybe I'll see you at Emo Band Playing Acoustic!  Hey, I guess Actual Bluegrass Band From the 50's didn't make the cut this year.  Oh well.

I have found the Holy Grail of bad baby name sites

As you may have noticed, I'm continually fascinated by the wacky variety of names that Today's Parents choose to foist upon their hapless offspring, and I recently discovered a Vital Resource in Bad Name Research.  On Babycenter.com, future parents who are too lazy or clueless to actually make a fucking decision and pull the trigger on a name for their future burden to society can throw their hands up and PUT IT TO A VOTE in the "Baby Name Polls" section, which turns out to be one of the most unintentionally hilarious things I've seen in a while.  Here's a sample:

Tyton!  And Titania!  I hope they meet at a Babycenter.com Reunion years from now and get married and have little Titanium or Titanella.

There are the usual Bad Decisions:

"Crystal" is almost the stripperiest name you can give a kid.  It's also convenient because you're naming the kid after her inevitable future drug of choice.  Anyway, "Crystal" is bad enough, but those alternative choices veer off from bad to unbelievably bizarre.  How do you even pronounce "Chriscylda"?  That sounds like a skin disease.

(Yes, I know.  "Famenine."  Let's keep it to the matter at hand.)

Don't look now, sweetie, but your husband is pulling your leg:

At least, I hope he is, because I WANT TO PARTY WITH THAT GUY.  Fire Star!  HAHAHAHAHA.  That is so fucking awesome.

Wait, he might be serious?  Oh Jesus.  I guess they're at Burning Man right now.  Anyway, I have no idea what her little list underneath is supposed to mean.  Isn't she mixing up boy and girl names?  I guess Fire Star is unisex.  "Lanoi" and "Nanoi" is awesome for twins, BTW.

In some cases, we got here too late:

Can you read that?  "Siblings so far as Azalea, Wisteria, Camellia, Jedidiah, Sylvia!"  Actually, Camellia is fine.  Wisteria is just weird.  How about Sativa?  Or Poison Ivy.  Every family needs a Bad Girl.  Also, STOP HAVING KIDS.

I guess it's time to put my own poll up.

Have a good weekend, everybody!

Having ruined rest of city, geeks set sights on Outside Lands

Oh for fucks' sake.

Hackers to descend upon Outside Lands music fest 

Hackers will infiltrate the Outside Lands music festival happening at Golden Gate Park in a few weeks. If you’re attending, keep an eye out for guys or gals typing furiously away on their laptops or holding their phones high above their heads in search of a strong WiFi connection. Don’t be surprised if you’re standing in line and someone taps your shoulder and asks you to test out their app. This is the official first year of “Outside Hacks,” where programmers will code inside festival grounds, working on websites or mobile apps that benefit Outside Lands attendees.

If you tap me on the shoulder in the beer line and ask me to test out your app, "don't be surprised" if I punch you in the throat.  Fucking great, I finally decide to go to Outside Lands after five years or whatever and it gets turned into Camp Annoying.

Outside Hacks is a followup event to Hackeroo — the hackathon that happened inside the Bonnaroo music festival earlier this year. Hackers will go head to head in a 24 hour competition happening August 3-4, the week before Outside Lands. The winning teams will get VIP tickets to the festival, where they’ll hack and hone their websites/apps from within the fest.

Here I thought a music festival was about LISTENING TO LIVE MUSIC. No, it's about "hacking and honing websites/apps from within the fest."  Hopefully one of the apps is Killyouallr.  Or StabMe.

So what does a festival app look like? There’s a lot of possibilities. At Hackeroo, one of the winning teams developed an app called RooRunner, which acted like a TaskRabbit for festival-goers. Attendees could submit task requests into the app from their phones, like “I want a burger and water brought to me at a certain sound stage.” The other app was named RooWall, and it combined all the pictures, video, tweets, and other social interactions that festival goers were posting into one visual wall. 

Oh good. I was worried I would just have to watch the bands I paid $115 to see and I wouldn't have any way to post tweets and video onto a visual wall.  And why should I get my own burger and water when I can pay someone to bring it to me?  Woodstock, the dream is not dead!

Maybe I'm being too harsh.  I guess I could support this if anyone worked on the following apps:

HeadPulverizr - If you lift your smartphone above shoulder level to take a picture, it blows up, sending shards of glass and metal into your skull.

BitchBeQuiet - Automatically releases a gas that causes vocal cord constriction if you speak louder than the music.

BlindMe - Blocks my vision any time someone wanders by wearing an animal-ears hat or sunglasses backward on the head.

DeChiliFier - Destroys the Red Hot Chili Peppers forever.

The Bachelorette: We're all in "kind of a dark place," Human Skull

If you had to go to four bland suburbs and hang out with a bunch of people you didn't know for a day and look at their weird shit and eat their terrible food, you'd call that a Living Nightmare but on the Bachelorette we call it Hometown Dates and pretend to enjoy it.  FIRST OFF we're going to meet up with Human Skull in some park in Dallas and Human Skull has gotten into the Family Mescaline again because he tells D about a dream he had where they were melting into the beach and I remember that one too, right after that is when you get Total Awareness.  Oh wait, Human Skull's family has a Sno Cone empire and here comes HS in the Family Sno Cone truck and now Des distributes cups of ice and aspartame to a group of shrieking, dehydrated children and now Human Skull reappears in a humanoid penguin suit.  This whole sequence looks like footage cut from the acid scene in Easy Rider and I started breathing really hard and had to look away.  HOLD ME.

Human Skull has one of those families that think they are WACKY and ZANY but their idea of a K-RAZY TIME is to ask the speaker at the Sonic Drive-In if their refrigerator is running.  Human Skull's brother "Denton" is obviously the one who got the brains and sister is the Platonic Ideal of a Texas Chick.  They're all turned up to about 15 except for DENTON who is obviously trapped in this ADHD family and can't wait to to move to Brooklyn and read Proust at Cafe Grumpy.  Then HS plays the SAME SONG HE PLAYED HER BEFORE and the whole family joins in to sing along.  HS only has one song and he just changes the lyrics to match whatever situation they're in.  It's about going to Six Flags!  It's about this squirrel! 

Next up is Drew in Scottsdale.  There's always one in Scottsdale.  Scottsdale breeds reality show contestants like Vermont breeds hippies.  They meet up at a strip mall and Drew explains they'll meet Dad and Mom and Mom's husband BOB and the severely mentally retarded sister and whatnot.  So they pick up the SMRS and it's off to the backyard for a wine party.  Dad gets Des alone and asks, "Do you believe in angels?"  BECAUSE I HAVE SOME LITERATURE I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE WITH YOU.  "Do you believe that a friendly ghost built this house from scratch?  No?  Do you believe I can guess what card you picked?"  Wait, we haven't seen BOB yet.  Maybe he's an angel too!  "You can't see Bob, but we can feel him here with us."  Dad says "if you want to marry this girl I'll throw a party."  Emphasis on "girl."  Then Drew says he loves her and puts her in the SUV.  Bob will guide you safely home.

Now we're in McMinnville Oregon to see Chris, who, wait, used to play professional baseball?  REALLY?  Oh, he was in the Cubs organization.  That's not "professional baseball," silly! That's whatever it is the Cubs do.  Anyway, Des is making him an art!

That's very sweet, Des!  You and SMRS obviously take Art Class together.  After some fun Baseball times, it's off to meet Chris' family.  I think they all have goatees!  After some wine, Dad, who fancies himself a "chiropractor," takes D down to the basement for some "treatment."  Uh-oh.

But this is all pretty innocuous compared to what Dad does next, which is to SHOVE SOMETHING UP CHRIS' NOSE AND PUMP IT AND GOD KNOWS WHAT. Honestly, what the fuck, Dad!  I promise I'll never take the car again!  Mom sees Des "fitting into our group," and if Des decides to Harness the Power of Crystals or Communicate With the Astral Plane I can see that too.

Then we go to Salt Lake City to meet Brooks' huge Mormon family.  I mean, I assume they're Mormon.  They don't have Catholics in Utah, right?  There are so many of them they're wearing nametags.  My family would have done that, but "Emotionally Abusive Sociopath" won't fit in the little space.  Brooks' brothers look like the villains in a Revenge of the Nerds movie but his family is disappointingly normal.  I hate to spoil this for you, but if you haven't figured it out yet, this is the dude who's winning this thing.

Back in LA, here comes Tweaker Bro who freaked Sean out last season. She hasn't seen him since then, so I guess they're not super close.  She boringly recaps and nothing happens and then she's like "Thank you for coming all this way."  FROM THE PARK I GUESS.  Then there's a sit-down with Chris Harrison and fucking Des spoils the whole thing by saying "I am hopeful for a proposal with Brooks."  HEY IDIOT YOU'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO SPILL IT YET.  Jesus, get a clue already.

At the Rose Ceremony, Drew is already crying.  Girl, pull yourself together!  So Brooks first, then Chris, then Drew.  OH NO HUMAN SKULL!  He's going back to "kind of a dark place."  It's OK, Human Skull.  I pretty much rent a room there.  You get used to it.

Burrito!: The Musical

Inspired originally by a tweet from Dan Jackson, with additional comments by BurritoJustice and others.

Act I

Carlos and Esmerelda are the proprietors of La Tradición, a small, independent burrito parlor that serves a loyal and grateful clientele.  Each burrito is lovingly handcrafted, and they use only the finest ingredients.  People come from far and wide for their specialty, the "Burrito Zafiro," made with a blue tortilla.

Song: "Beans and Rice and Love"

One day, Bobby, a loyal customer, warns them that a major burrito chain, Burrito Bandito, is coming to town.  Bobby worries that Burrito Bandito's massive ad campaigns and cheaper burritos will put La Tradición out of business.

Song: "Horsemeat and Spray Cheese"

Carlos and Esmerelda assure Bobby there's nothing to worry about; people will always choose higher quality over cheaper price.  Bobby is not so sure.

Song: "Old Navy Blues"

Meanwhile, Carlos and Esmerelda's daughter Gabriela has some exciting news: she has a new beau, Roger! She brings him around to meet her parents, and they are pleased.  Roger is a nice young man who is polite and respectful, not like Gabriela's ex-boyfriend Gaspar, who played in a punk band and joined an underground anti-gentrification cell.

Song: "New Love Is Like Guacamole"

One day, a stranger comes into the store.  He introduces himself as E. Conommy Ofscale and tells Carlos and Esmerelda he works for Burrito Bandito.  They greet the stranger warmly and offer to prepare him a Supreme with Carne Asada to welcome the new business to town, but he refuses, explaining that he doesn't really eat burritos. Ofscale tells Carlos and Esmerelda that they had better get ready; Burrito Bandito is coming to town and would crush them like it crushes all its competition - with ultra-cheap mass-produced burritos, an ad campaign targeted at Thought Leaders, and plenty of Tostitos brand salsa.  Carlos and Esmerelda look aghast.  "What, you don't put lettuce in your burritos?," Ofscale asks.  Esmerelda faints to the floor.

Song: "What Have You Done To My Burrito"

Gabriela and Roger arrive just as Ofscale leaves.  The old couple, distraught, explain to them what just happened.  Roger, who has a business degree, volunteers to try and help Carlos and Esmerelda fight the corporate behemoth.  They gratefully accept his offer.  Great, he says.  He'll just need to look at their books.

Song: "I'll Just Need to Look At Your Books"

Burrito Bandito opens nearby and immediately crowds are drawn to its huge dining room and cheap prices.  To Carlos and Esmerelda's shock, Burrito Bandito introduces a new, special menu item, the "Burrito de Blue Tortilla," made with a blue tortilla, just like La Tradición's Burrito Zafiro!  Carlos and Esmerelda don disguises and visit the new competitor.

Song: "Don't Mind Us, We're Just Know-Nothings With No Sense of Taste Here To Sample Your So-Called Burritos"

Carlos is shocked.  "It's the same tortilla as the Burrito Zafiro!," he exclaims.  "How could they have gotten our recipe?  We're finished, Esmerelda, finished!"

Act II

Burrito Bandito is booming while business at La Tradición has fallen off, largely fueled by the runaway success of Burrito Bandito's Burrito de Blue Tortilla.  Carlos and Esmerelda are sadly contemplating closing the store.

Song: "I Will Water My Cilantro With Tears"

The next day, a mysterious young man comes into the store.  He peruses the menu and asks for an al pastor with no cheese and extra jalapenos.  As Carlos prepares the burrito, he suddenly realizes: "Gaspar! Is that you?"  The man smiles and nods, removing the Google Glass and startup sweatshirt he was wearing as a disguise.  "Yes, it is I!," Gaspar says.  He tells them he is here to help them battle the evil corporate chain.

Song: "A Molotov Is the Spiciest Salsa Of All"

As they talk, Gabriela and Roger arrive.  The old lovers at first trade barbs, but it is soon apparent that beneath their frosty exterior, there are still feelings between them. After Gabriela and Roger leave, Gaspar tells Carlos and Esmerelda that he is suspicious of Roger; something just didn't seem right.

Song: "Yuppie No Bueno"

One night, Gaspar and some other members of LENGUA, the Loyal Eternal No Gentrification Underground Association, plan to break into Burrito Bandito.  Matty, a recent UC Santa Cruz graduate with a degree in Ethnic Studies, wants to burn it to the ground, but Gaspar cautions against this.

Song: "Chill Out, My College Marxist Brother"

Instead, Gaspar convinces the group that gathering information about Burrito Bandito will ultimately prove more worthwhile.  The team agrees and, under cover of darkness, they break into Burrito Bandito.  What they find shocks even these hardcore revolutionaries - stacks of cans labeled "Bean-Flavored Product," bags of raw pigeon meat, and, worst of all, the secret ingredients for La Tradición's Burrito Zafiro!  As they photograph the scene, a startled Roger emerges from a back room.

Song: "Holy Shit What the Fuck Are You Doing Here"

"I knew it!," Gaspar exclaims. LENGUA notifies the police, who soon arrive and arrest Roger for Second Degree Burrito Embezzlement.  LENGUA publishes the damning photos.  Burrito Bandito is finished and closes in shame.

Months later, we are at the wedding of Gaspar and Gabriela. La Tradición is thriving once again. Carlos and Esmerelda tearfully reflect on their good fortune, their station in the burrito world firmly fixed.

Song: "Burritos (Make the World Go Round)"

Trip report: Fort Bragg, CA

Fort (or Ft.? I don't know) Bragg is a scrappy little town a few miles north of Mendocino, its dressier, quainter, boutiquier cousin.  Based on some not-at-all scientific research I did using Google while drinking a beer in my hotel room, it used to be supported by a lumber mill but then that closed down and everyone left town and now it's just a Rite Aid and North Coast Brewing.  Whatever, the view from the hotel room sure was nice.

Apparently there's an attraction called "Glass Beach" that we didn't go to.  Everybody told us that's the thing we had to see and that always makes me suspicious.  You know what it is?  Residents of Ft. Bragg used to dump all their trash there and over the years all the glass in the trash got worn down by waves into smooth little glass pebbles.  That's right; the main attraction in FB is a former dump.

We had a great time.  On Friday night we went to Piaci Pub and Pizzeria, which was insanely crowded at 6:30 p.m.  Based on attendance at Piaci, what Fort Bragg really needs is more restaurants.

The crowd seemed to be mostly locals.  You know the type, with grey ponytails and a severely weathered appearance and a definite stoner vibe.  Everyone was totally friendly.  In some small, isolated towns people are all wary and/or hostile, but not in FB.  Everywhere we went everyone was as nice as they could be.

Somebody on Yelp called Piaci a "dive bar" which makes me think people on Yelp have never been to a dive bar because it's about as divey as an Applebee's.  MEMO TO YELPERS: Anywhere that has a pizza with prosciutto, arugula, and a farm egg on it is not a dive bar.  They also have an incredible beer selection.

And of course the whole area is breathtakingly beautiful.  Saturday was a nice sunny day and we drove up the coast a ways and it's one of those things where every time you come around a bend in the road you are visually ASSAULTED by another jaw-dropping view.

This picture isn't even a good representation because I suck at taking pictures and I took this with an iPhone.  I think we were both amused by the hawk that's perched on the wire in the middle of this picture that you can't see.  He (or she, I guess, I'm not like a hawkologist or whatever they have that studies hawks) just seemed totally chill and stoic.

Although I am in no way being compensated for this plug, we stayed at the North Cliff Hotel and liked it a lot.  On Friday night some fat people arrived at the room above us and then STOMPED AROUND from 11 pm to like midnight.  Seriously, it sounded like they were going to come through the fucking floor.  The next morning, the hotel graciously moved us to a top-floor room.  In fact, they were so nonchalant and blase about the whole thing that I suspect this happens with some frequency.  Maybe it's just thin floors.  Anyway, they were totally cool about it and we relaxed Saturday night in blissful silence.

[One other thing I forgot to put in this post originally: wine tasting in Mendocino wine country is so much better than Napa and even maybe Sonoma that it's worth a special trip.  It's like what Napa used to be like in the early 90's.  Almost all the tastings are free (except for hoity toity places like Goldeneye), it's not that crowded, and the winery employees are uniformly down-to-earth and friendly.  Fuck paying $25 for a tasting in Napa.  I emphatically recommend Navarro, Toulouse, and Lazy Creek, and they're all within a few miles of each other.]