SONG BATTLE: The Aftermath, plus Complete Lists

A while back, I happened to mention on Twitter that I had done the very Gen X white male semi-music-obsessive task of compiling a list of my 20 favorite songs of all time, a task heretofore reserved for those on the spectrum and guys who identify with John Cusack in "High Fidelity."  One thing led to another and before I knew it I was locked in some Mortal Combat for Music Geeks-type situation with Olu wherein we would both go on Burrito Justice's radio show on BFF.fm, Monarch of the Airwaves, and have some kind of competition, I guess, pitting some of my songs against some of his songs.  Seems fine.

(Apropos of John Cusack, please enjoy this Internet thing "John Cusack's 30-Year-Dating History Is B-A-N-A-N-A-S."  John Cusack had sex with Janice Dickinson on a plane!  Janice Dickinson [who is on this season's Couples Therapy, BTW] is CRAZY but in that really kind of disturbing way and not the fun throws-plates-on-the-floor-at-parties way.)

AAAANYWAY it was lots of fun and we probably only bored about half the people listening, which would be a new personal best for me.  If you were doing literally anything worthwhile yesterday and missed it and now your life is an Empty Void and has No Meaning, you can listen to it here.  NOTE: If your life is an Empty Void, you will especially enjoy the Joy Division vs. Elliott Smith duo about halfway through.

We didn't get to all our songs, so in the interest of completeness, here are our lists.

TK's Top 20 Songs of All Time

in no particular order

(Like I said, I first compiled this list in 2009.  Before the show I went back and made a few changes because I've grown as a person since then and also I fucked up in a few places like putting "Ghosts" by The Jam on the original list instead of "In the City," which is about 1000x better.)


First, the ones that made the show:

Rolling Stones, "Monkey Man"
Guided by Voices, "Everywhere with Helicopter"
The Jam, "In the City"
Wolf Parade, "Shine a Light"
The Clash, "Rudie Can't Fail"
Beulah, "Landslide Baby"
The Weakerthans, "Reconstruction Site"
Elvis Costello & The Attractions, "Beyond Belief"
The Shins, "So Says I"
The Libertines, "Can't Stand Me Now"
The Replacements, "Bastards of Young"
The Velvet Underground, "Cool It Down"
Elliott Smith, "Independence Day"

And the ones you didn't hear:

The Wrens, "Ex-Girl Collection"
Trashcan Sinatras, "Circling the Circumference"
R.E.M., "Disturbance at the Heron House"
Modest Mouse, "Gravity Rides Everything"
The Pogues with Kirsty MacColl, "Fairytale of New York"
Pavement, "Spit on a Stranger"
Game Theory, "We Love You Carol and Alison"

And now presenting Olu's Top 20 Songs of All Time

also in no order that I'm aware of


The ones you heard:

Built to Spill, "Else"
DJ Shadow, "The Six Day War"
Blonde Redhead, "I Am Taking Out My Eurotrash" [Ed: This wins for Best Song Title of the Day, if nothing else]
The Roots, "You Got Me"
Fugazi, "Waiting Room"
Cat Power, "Cross Bones Style"
Guided by Voices, "Watch Me Jumpstart"
Joy Division, "Twenty Four Hours"
Brand Nubian, "Slow Down"
The Pharcyde, "Passing Me By"
Galaxie 500, "Ceremony"
Bill Withers, "Who Is He and What Is He To You"
Shannon, "Let the Music Play"

And here's what Olu left on the bench:

GZA, "Duel of the Iron Mic"
Sonic Youth, "Tunic (Song for Karen)"
Gossip, "Heavy Cross"
Souls of Mischief, "93 'til Infinity"
Nas, "New York State of Mind"
Notorious B.I.G. f/ Methid Man, "The What"
Elliott Smith, "2:45 a.m."

Olu also noted that he was "missing" 2 songs which means I guess they'd be on there if he had a redo, The Clash, "Guns of Brixton" and Neutral Milk Hotel, "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea."  You know what?  I might put NMH's "The King of Carrot Flowers" on my list if I did it again.

Who won, you ask?  Who knows?*  It seemed pretty evenly split to me.  And it's really not about the competition.  It's about the spirit of togetherness and enjoying good music.

*I won.

I'm looking forward to the next one!

Enjoy these attractions along the Warriors parade route!

Near the beginning of the parade, at 11th and Jefferson, stop by the Hope Your Forget This Old Racist Logo Pavilion, featuring the Philadelphia Warriors Logo that's so bad the Redskins would be embarrassed to use it.

At 11th and Broadway, take a rest at Sleepy Floyd's Mattress Mountain, or take a spin on the Todd Fuller Mediocrity Coaster!

Were you there when the 1975 team won it all?  Get your picture taken in front of the That's Total Bullshit You Were Not There Championship Banner!

New fans are welcome at the Bandwagon Stands, where you'll be issued a crisp new "The City" shirt and get a chance to win prizes by answering questions like  "Who is P. J. Carlesimo?" or "How many quarters are there in a game?"

You'll definitely want to tour the Hall of Forgotten Coaches, and maybe pick up an Eric Musselman baby bib or a Dave Cowens Who Is Dave Cowens sticker.

Getting a little choked up?  That's ok, the Latrell Sprewell Obvious Joke Station can handle that.

PLEASE NOTE: At the conclusion of the parade, everything is being packed up and moved to San Francisco.Longtime East Bay fans will have first priority to buy tickets at the new arena's Overcrowded BART Car SRO Plaza.

The Bachelor: A-virgin therapy

Christ, I am so fucking sorry for that title.  That is really, really terrible.  Sorry.

Tonight's Special Guests will be a trio of Chris' unnamed sisters, who will interview some of the chixx and decide who gets a Very Special Date with the Farmer.  Hey, beats drinking warm goat milk like last week, I guess.

A bunch of the Ladies are off with C in 2 cars with C driving one and HOLY CRAP THEY'RE LETTING MEGAN THE SIMPLE DRIVE THE OTHER ONE.  I didn't know you could still get that kind of insurance, ABC!  One of the Ashleys comments "For me, if a guy is driving, it's one of the sexiest things he can do."  Whoa girl, your commute must be SEXCITING.  Wait til you see me parallel park!  Holy shit, put your clothes back on!  Anyway, this odd procession makes its way to some sad-looking 34% full reservoir somewhere in Southern Cali and it's not long before bikini parts are flying.  The Widow Kelsey is NOT AT ALL HAPPY about this date and the "muddy water hellhole" that compares unfavorably to the lakes of the Great State of Michigan!  We're in a drought, bitch!  Not our fault!

Back at the house, the Farmer Sisters have concluded their interviews - not before making Carly cry because she's never been loved, Y I K E S - and JADE has been named the new Regional Manager!  I mean, she gets to go on the date or whatever.

Let's head back to Lake Hellhole where there's going to be some camping!  Oh shit, Krazee Ashley is ready to throw down.  What she's "most scared of" is having no music so she starts chanting nonsensical syllables and doing her epileptic seizure dance.  Kraz gets a chance to sit down with C and maybe show him the other night was an aberration and she can be totally normal.

Sad trombone.  As C struggles with this admittedly layered and complex question, Kraz is onto new topics!  "Look at the moon.  It's so weird to me.  And we're sitting here.  Like that's weird to me."  It's pretty clear now that Kraz is either (1) putting on an act trying to get national attention (2) trying a series of powerful hallucinogens for the first time on network TV or (3) actually in a dissociative state and no one is helping her.  Anyway, she closes strong with "I love everything about you" and

Kaitlyn kind of nails it when she says "I don't think Ashley is here for the right reasons because I don't even know if she knows where here is."

VIRGIN TIME!!!!  She decides she's going to spill the beans to C and sneaks into his tent in the middle of the night and thank God they aren't filming in Texas or she would be all kinds of shot.  She jabbers some nonsense about not being experienced and it's like if you're gay and just tell your parents you like musical theater and think "That should about do it!"

I'm gonna really condense the Big Date with Jade because it's essentially just a half hour commercial for some new live-action Cinderella movie like GOD I am so sick of seeing stories about privileged white people overcoming their struggles.  This date mostly consists of them eating dinner alone in a huge room and then dancing alone in another huge room while a movie plays in the background.  It's like an agoraphobic's dream date,  Anyway, they both are essentially personalityless so I assume they will end up together.

Group date starts with a bunch of chicks in wedding dresses getting on a plane.  Hey, Mormons in the Sky!  Next month on FXX.  Anyway, they land at SFO and they're going to run some mud obstacle course to raise awareness for MS or something.  Obvs Jillian is SUPER INTO THIS and everyone else basically quits and Jillian beats that course like a bitch who snitched on her to the bulls.  She is awarded a night dinner which she will CRUSH TO DEATH.

This dinner takes place high atop the Fairmont here in lovely SF.  Jillian has figured out how to put on a dress.  C is babbling non sequitirs.  "Family is really important to me, where do you see yourself in five years?"  He's just reading random First Date Question Cards together. Jillian unleashes a word firehose on hapless C and literally asks him if he'd rather fuck a homeless girl or go celibate for 5 years.  DON'T ANSWER THAT.  Understandably alarmed, he boots her off the show and somehow she doesn't beat the shit out of him.  We'll miss you and your guns, J.

Cocktail Party!  It's Round 2 of Trying to Tell Him I'm a Virgin.  She gets it out and SURPRISE! He "totally respects that" which is what you say anytime you find out an adult woman is a virgin or is paralyzed and can paint with her toes or whatever.  Oh shit, Becca's a virgin too!  Everyone's a virgin now!  Baby Jesuses all around!

Here's who's staying: Baby Voice, iCarly, Megan the Simple, Still Not Sure Who Samantha Is But She Keeps Hanging Around, Virgins I & II, and SparklyBritt.  Finally, Krazee Ashley can get some help.  Also out the door are Chick With Dark Hair I've Never Seen Before and Juelia the Pool Party Ruiner.  Better days, ladies.

UPDATE!!!!!! THE PLOT THICKENS.  According to I'm sure reputable source "The Stir," Krazee Ashley isn't a hairstylist from Brooklyn AT ALL.  No, she's just a boring office drone from Atlanta.  Good luck finding a hairstylist in Brooklyn with no visible tattoos, just like I said.  Her Instagram feed looks like Normal Off the Shelf White Girl America.  So it was an act.  Lame.

Exercise is getting weird

HOLY SHIT ARE YOU IN THE OFFICE TOO of course you are. Why would you be reading this on your own time? I can't believe we have to be at work.  Fuck.

Anyway, it's a brand new year and that means everyone has decided to exercise for the first time.  You could do normal things like that fake bicycle ride in the gym or running on a treadmill or lifting a heavy piece of furniture up and down but what's the fun in that?  There is no fun in that.

Based on my observations, people exercising outside have collectively decided to just go "FUCK IT I'M DOING WHAT I WANT FUCK YOU WORLD." This very morning, driving through San Francisco's Golden Gate Park on my way to drop off my offspring at daycare, I personally and with me own eyes observed the following:

- One gentleman walking quickly/almost jogging in the bike lane, swinging his right arm back and forth in a wide arc as if to ward off a cloud of invisible flies that were surrounding and troubling him, or maybe pretending his arm was a single windshield wiper and his body was a car driving through a terrific rainstorm

- A lady fast-walking and rhythmically tapping herself on the head with BOTH HANDS, elbows at ear level, as if she was playing a simple drumbeat on the bongo that is her very own skull

- An otherwise normal-appearing jogger with those neon shoes everyone likes now, also running in the bike lane at a very high rate of speed and through an intersection against a red light as a bus bore down on him, making me believe I was about to see what literally "getting hit by a bus" looks like and wondering (not totally unreasonably) if this was going to make me late for work because I would have to give a statement to investigators while they placed pieces of the jogger and his ugly shoes into a bag

Google Image Search result for "weird exercise." YEP YEP YEP.

In fact, the Running in the Street thing (which is actually mostly Running in the Bike Lane) has become so prevalent that I see it on the reg now.  What's up with that?  Isn't there a perfectly good sidewalk for that?  Is it revenge for bicyclists biking on the sidewalk?

One time I was driving AT NIGHT on a street with no bike lane and this girl was jogging in the street alongside all the parked cars WEARING BLACK. Either she had an exercise-related death wish or she was a terrible cat burglar making the world's worst escape from the scene of her latest cat burglary.  Either way, I can't imagine she's still alive.

2014 Biggest Voting Surprises

I just voted down at City Hall! No one asked me for my ID because I'm white.  I'm pretty good at voting because I've done it for a long time with varying levels of success (still mad at u, stupid AL GORE).  But in SF the ballot is like 10 PAGES LONG and I'm busy and don't study as much as I need to and some things still surprise me.

1. Nancy Pelosi is running for Congress!  She hasn't run that many ads that I've seen.  I voted for her because I like Nancy Pelosi Drive in Golden Gate Park.  Little heads-up would have been good, though.

2. There's like a whole page of just judges.  Mostly it's just YES or NO.  I voted yes for everyone EXCEPT ONE because I like to keep them on their toes.

3. Oh shit, this year you have to vote for your favorite attraction.

I wrote in "Mitchell Brothers O'Farrell Theater" but I hope Coit Tower wins. If you voted for Fisherman's Wharf I don't even want to talk to you.  The campaign those people ran was DESPICABLE.

4. I studied the David Campos vs. David Chiu race pretty hard but I DIDN'T GET TO VOTE IN THAT ONE.  What a fucking ripoff.

5. I voted no on the soda tax because get back to me when you start taxing LITERAL BAGS OF FUCKING SUGAR.  Do you know how much sugar is in a 1-lb bag of sugar?  ONE POUND.  That's so much more than is in a Coke.  If we are gonna tax sugar, go all the fucking way or go home.

6. Nobody's running against Carmen Chu for Assessor!  She must be good at assessing.

7. After I was done I didn't even make it back to the counter before some lady approached me and said "All done?" and then took my ballot.  WAIT DO YOU EVEN WORK HERE? I think I just got voter frauded.  Where are you, my Republican legislator friends?  HELP.

8. THIS IS NOT A JOKE, NON-SAN FRANCISCANS, but this year we had to fucking VOTE on whether to have artificial turf soccer fields and what kind of height restrictions to have at Pier 70.  This is ridiculous.  Next year we will have ballot propositions like "What should the first movie be at Dolores Park Movie Night" and "Should I pay for a garage or park in the street" and "What's your favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry's" and "Who's Sharon? I have her name and number but don't remember anything about her."

Anyway, you deserve to be heard, so get out there and vote if you have political sensibilities similar to mine.  If not, it's a fucking hassle and waste of time and you might as well just stay home.

Fun with latitude, also, this is a long walk

So I was idly wondering, as I do, If you left San Francisco and walked in a straight line across the US, where would you end up?  FASCINATING RIGHT?

So let's assume that CHP would close the Bay Bridge for us.  There would of course be a lot of helicopters and shit to document TK'S WALK ACROSS THE US.

At first it's super boring.  Mostly just wilderness.  The first town of any size we score a direct hit on is Dodge City, Kansas, which, like San Francisco, is at 37 dgrees, 45 minutes north of the equator and thus is in an exact straight line with SF.  HELLO DODGE CITY!!!  Bet you didn't know you were San Francisco's Longitude Partner.  MWAH!

Onward.  We'll pass just north of Harrisburg, Illinois, and straight through Rineyville, Kentucky, where "[t]here is no formal town government; elected county officials oversee roads."  SOUNDS WILD.  Walking walking walking we will hit Hanover, Virginia, a suburb of Richmond, and then step into the Chesapeake Bay just north of Ingram Cove, not far from Kilmarnock, Virginia, and the Hughlett Point Area Preserve.

I hope we can swim, because we've got a long ways to go before we emerge again onto dry land near Crystal Beach Road in Onancock, Virginia.  In fact, here's a picture of almost the exact spot where we'll walk, dripping and covered with seaweed and crap, out of the Chesapeake Bay.

I found this picture attached to a home listing nearby.  3 BRM for $699K!  Sounds like a good deal.  Little does the future buyer know that he or she is DIRECTLY IN LINE with San Francisco.  (The beach is facing the wrong way because it's on a peninsula kind of thing. Take my word for it.)

After crossing the Eastern Shore of Virginia, we shall plunge into the Atlantic near the inelegant-sounding Gargathy Bay.  So there's your answer!  If you go in a perfectly straight line across America from San Francisco, you walk into the Atlantic not far from Parksley, Virginia. (Parksley's actually at 37 degrees 46 minutes, so it's lined up with the northern half of SF.)

If we're so inclined, and a willing partner is nearby, maybe we can prevail on Reverend Rod, Wedding Officiant, to hitch us up before we begin our long long journey across the Wild Atlantic.

I know what you're asking.  WHY IS THIS SO BORING.  No, the other thing you're asking.  WHERE DO WE POP OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE.

Portugal.

This has been fun!  Let's do it again soon.

OK, time to pick a Premier League team

Hello! Ugly American over here.  Every 4 years I watch World Cup matches and announce to (1) my now-jaded Wife, and (2) no one in particular "OK! THIS is the year I'm finally getting into soccer."  So this is it.  I'm finally getting into soccer.

Now, I could get into MS or MSA or whatever the American soccer league is called but that's both boring and not nearly pretentious enough.  No, the only answer for Coastal Elites such as myself is to get into the English Premier League, which accomplishes the twin goals of being inaccessible and foreign.  It's kind of like being a fan of New Zealand new wave or Icelandic food.

SO THAT BEING SAID now I need to pick a team.  I was vaguely following Chelsea the last time I had this impulse, because I wanted my team to always sort of be in the running, and Chelsea always seem to do OK.  I gather that they're universally loathed by supporters* of other teams and they have an owner everyone hates so I guess they're the Cowboys of soccer.  That's a strike against them.  But I like the color blue, so that's a for. Plus, look at this adorable baby soccer hoodlum hooligan tracksuit I could get for Beyonce!

[* You call soccer fans "supporters," not "fans." Also, you don't call it "soccer," you call it "football."  Also, they sell liquor in vending machines.]

Then  there's Manchester United.  They win all the time!  They won in 2013, 2011, 2009, 2008, 2007, and on and on and on.  That's boring.

Arsenal would be a good choice because I happen to know they have a violently active local fan base that gets up at 3 a.m. or something to watch matches at a bar in North Beach.  Morning drinking is always welcome but I just can't even with that.

What about Everton!  Everton is appealing because of the presence of Tim Howard, the amazing American goalkeeper who almost singlehandedly beat Belarus or Belgium or whoever.

But Everton never wins anything.  That would be no fun, to follow a team all season (or whatever they call a season) knowing you're not going to win.  (They won the FA Cup in 1995 but that's a long time ago. Also who cares.)

The Wife likes Tottenham Hotspur mostly because she likes to say "Tottenham Hotspur." She grew up in Ireland, so she was more into rugby and hurling, which I've still never figured out but involves a ball and some sticks and is apparently extremely dangerous.

Liverpool would be nice because the Beatles are from Liverpool.

There's a bunch of others but I'm already tired of this.  I'm sticking with Chelsea.  It's like being stuck in a dead-end job at a gas station: I'm not particularly in love with it, but I already have the jacket.

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.

Either Glenn Dickey or me is confused about hydrology

"Me is confused"? What am I doing? Anyway.

Examiner scribe Glenn Dickey does not like the idea of the new waterfront Warriors arena planned for Piers 30-32.  And he has some reasons why.  He hates progress, basketball, and fun!  No, not really.  Oddly, he's concerned the new arena will FLOOD THE CITY, literally:

I believe this is a bad idea for several reasons. One is that a huge amount of concrete will have to be poured into San Francisco Bay to provide support, raising the water level for a city that is already threatened by the potential of rising water with climate change. 

Wait a minute. Maybe I'm reading this wrong, but is he saying that pouring a lot of concrete into the bay will make the water level around San Francisco go up?  I THINK THAT'S WHAT HE'S SAYING.  Based on my very limited knowledge of hydrology, I don't think that's how it works.  Let's look at a diagram.

OK, so as I understand it, even if you pour a shitload of concrete in at Piers 30-32, I'm almost 100% sure that's not going to flood the Financial District, because all the water that the concrete displaces is just going to flow out underneath the Golden Gate Bridge into the Pacific Ocean, right?  I mean, every time one of those huge container ships sails by, do you notice water sloshing up over the Embarcadero?  What am I missing here?

That's all I've got.  Have a great weekend.

Chanson de Sir Larry's Boat Thing

Gather round children and hear as I sing
The tale of Sir Larry and his Sailboat Thing
Sir Larry had money, power and stock
But most people thought he was kind of a cock
"I'll show these peasants," Sir Larry announced.
"I'll give them a boat race nobody wants!"

He bullied the king and paid off the gentry
And said that his race would be the Thing of the Century
Young Lord Gavin bought into this shit
And committed the kingdom to shell out for it
Finding competitors proved to be tough
Just being around Sir Larry was rough

Finally the Kiwis answered his ring
And said they would race in Sir Larry's boat thing
The challenge accepted, the race it was on
But the people responded with a collective yawn
"We're sorry Sir Larry, we really don't care;
"It's not like you've got the 49ers out there"

"SILENCE!," Sir Larry thundered at them
"This will be the biggest thing since IBM.
"Wait til you see my spaceship-like boat
"It's literally the coolest thing ever to float."
"Whatever," said the citizenry, visibly bored.
"Call us when you've got Kate Upton aboard."

The racing began with Sir Larry down two points to none
"Cheating?!" he cried, "Isn't that just how it's done?"
Soon the Kiwis had gone up eight to one
"If this shit keep up," said Larry, "I'll block out the sun!"
And so as the Kiwis cruised to the win with ease
Sir Larry cackled, "I'll shut down the breeze!"

Then Sir Larry's team piled up win after win
Timely rule changes, again and again
Virtually ensured that Sir Larry's crew, brave and stout
Would, from their asses, a victory pull out
And as Larry sailed off on a tide of champagne and wine,
"Thanks, suckers!" he cried, "See you next time!"

The Bachelorette: Real Housewives of Fauxdrama County

¡Barcelona! Land of 10,000 Sad Angel Statues! Where James will toast to "Mi amoebas!"  Let's go on a solo date with Walking J. Crew Catalog Drew.  We have the usual strolling around town and then we learn there's "a lot more about him that she needs to know."  I KNOW, YOUR DAD LEFT YOU, BIG FUCKING YAWN.  Oh, no, wait, Dad is his hero?  Maybe he left in a super elegant and classy way?  No, he's an alcoholic.  With cancer.  Errrbody crying now. I guess the only thing worse than not drinking anymore is getting cancer.  SORRY ABOUT THAT ONE.

Oblig candlelight dinner.  D is "overcome with emotion" and drags her and the camera crew away from dinner into an adjacent alley to do what he imagines is passionate kissing, I think.  It's tough to tell because he seems about as sexual as a ficus.  Giving up on this attempt at passion, he then moves on to the next topic, BLOWING JAMES UP for not being here for the right reasons.  Remember that whole thing about James saying if he could just get into the top 4 then he'd have a shot at being the Bachelor?  Well, first, GET FUCKING REAL, there is NO FUCKING CHANCE that meathead would ever have a shot but also, WHO GIVES A FUCK.  Everybody, apparently.  Anyway, Dez is deeply troubled and oh fucking give me a break.

El Date del Groupo!  Something soccer related.  Juan Pablo will dominate at this, I guess. They all trundle off to the Barcelona soccer stadium and Juan Pablo immediately starts showing off his mad soccer skills and also high-fiving Des a lot like she's a bro.  Then Los Doucheros play a faux soccer match against a bunch of girls and get smoked mostly because James is the goalie and, as Juan Pablo correctly analyzes, "I guess he scared of getting hit with ball." 

Let's move onto the Night Portion and the Brofontation with James and we'll skip over the terrible, terrible "poem" that Dez has written for fellow Awful Poet Chris and my one wish for this season is that everybody stop writing fucking poetry, it's really the worst.  Anyway, 2 douches confront James with his "shocking" statements about being the next Bachelor and James quickly moves through the Stages of Brofontation, namely: (1) I was kidding, (2) I said it privately, (3) Mikey brought it up and I just agreed with him. There's a lot of bleeping and then Kasey with a K says he will "counter-accusate," whatever the fuck that means and then spills the whole thing to Des AGAIN.

The Brofrontation: Artist's depiction. I forgot to get screengrabs.

OK so then Des talks to James and he's like, Mikey brought the whole thing up.  He didn't have a connection with Des and he was "self-medicating himself."  That's it, James!  It's working!  Your fake crying and everything is working!

Back at the hotel, all the hens are clucking.  Are "you thinking he might turn violent?"  SHOW ME ON THE DOLL WHERE JAMES MIGHT TOUCH YOU.  That "federal prosecutor" Michael is just a big 12-year-old snitch with a lot of mousse.  Oh here comes James.  "Goodnight!" HRMPH!  HE DIDN'T GET VIOLENT AT ALL.

Next day, solo date with Human Skull, who is now a color not found in nature and apparently is dying his skin to match his outfit for the day.  They're off to art class where they will sketch each other and Des is understandably concerned about using color because "Worst Celebrity Spray Tan Disasters" isn't on the color wheel.  Neither one of them can art very well.

Dinner that night is at Freixenet!  Hopefully some budget-priced sparkling wine will lead to romance.  They descend into the caves to have a candlelit dinner surrounded by thousands of bottles of $5.99 cava.  She wants to know all about Human Skull!  He has a "spirit that wants to continue to venture!"  RIGHT INTO AN EPISODE OF THE HAUNTING I BET.  He gets the Cheap Champagne Rose.

"At this point in my life you kinda mean everything to me," Human Skull says, which is terrifying and awful, just like this show.

Meanwhile, the housewives are getting themselves all worked up about the James thing again!  Michael is the Captain of Hating James' Guts.  Drew is physically sickened by the thought that James isn't as invested in a fake TV relationship as he is.  Des interrupts their little bitchfest and takes James out to ask "What is your intentions, like, now?" and "Is you willing to discard subject-verb agreement for me?"  She doesn't kick him out yet.  OOOOOOOOO THE LADIES ARE SO MAD WHEN JAMES COMES BACK TO THE HOTEL.  Michael is all here, hold my pearls but then James says his basic point is that he won't kill himself if he gets kicked off and that is the most normal thing that's happened so far and then he leaves and all the girls burst into tears like they dropped a Barbie and an ice cream cone at the same time.

Rose Ceremony.  We're kicking 3 off!  Sweet, shit is moving faster now.  IN: Chris, Brooks, and Cindy.  I mean Michael.  OUT: Juan Pablo, James, and Kasey, thank fucking God.  Juan Pablo tries to summon up some tears but it's hard when the awful fate that awaits you is getting more tail than a salmon trawler wait that simile didn't work at all.  James says "Nobody will ever know the exact truth" like this is the Kennedy assassination or something.  Fuck's sake.

The Bachelorette: Finger of Blame

This week, we're going to kick off with a Group Date featuring a selection of idiots getting matched up against the National Dodgeball League All-Stars, I guess, who have the steely-eyed glare of Navy SEALS although they're wearing ballerina tights and playing a game most people quit pre-puberty.  These roided-out Dodgeballers try to excise the pain and humiliation they felt as children by whipping balls at the hapless contestants until Chris Harrison mercifully steps in and stops the madness and divides the monkey-brained males into two dodgeball teams for some good old-fashioned dodgeball in a cage off the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica.  The winners will, presumably, get something like more time with Des or something.  This is as boring as it sounds until the third and final game when BOOM Brooks goes down with a broken finger.  He is led away and put down, hopefully.  Oh no, wait.  We have hospital footage.  Brooks is in the Finger ICU apparently.  There is a team of doctors surrounding him. Brooks may not make it.

Go to the light, Brooks.  Let go of the pain.  You were too good for this world.

Cut to the Intercontinental Century City for the Dodgeball Victors Party.  Sadly, Brooks' finger death has cast a pall over the proceedings.  But Brad has the resolve to soldier on.  He has, it seems, a secret from his past that "has really haunted him."  IF IT'S JUST YOUR DAD LEAVING YOU, BRAD, WE'VE HEARD IT.  YAWN CITY.  No, wait, he has a three-year-old named "Maddox."  Why would that haunt you?  Is Maddox a ghost?  Not an actual three-year-old?  Is it a plastic baby dressed up to look like the Pitt-Jolie Maddox?  That would be haunting.  Wait, there's more.  Maddox's Mommy likes the booze and Brad didn't like that.  Why you gotta be stepping on her good time, Brad?  It's always Unhappy Hour around Brad.

Wait, is that James Mercer from the Shins? What's he doing on this show?

He whisks D. away to the rooftop helipad.  He was "glad to see her in her own skin today."  Not like the women he keeps in the basement at home!

HERE COMES BROOKS.  He has made it.  He will live, as it turns out.  He gets some makeout time for this, but the Shins' James Mercer gets the rose.  Then they get treated to a private concert by a dead-eyed chanteuse named Kate Earl or something, who slurs her way through a few horrible proto-songs while they dance listlessly, lulled into a near-hypnotic state by her monotone mumbling.

INT. BACHELORETTE HOUSE. THE NEXT DAY. Des is writing in a journal or something when the phone rings and WOULD YOU BELIEVE IT it's Chris Harrison.  He has some "bizarre news" and you better get over to the Monkey House pronto.  We learn that there's apparently a guy on this show named Brian or something who has a girlfriend named Stephanie and WHOOPS HERE SHE COMES and Brian forgot to break up with her apparently.  Stephanie seems a little shrill and has the overall mien of a Marina Girl who's been told they lost her reservation at Tipsy Pig.  Anyway, Brian or whoever the fuck he is is swiftly escorted out by the crew and the whole thing is so distressing it makes BRANDON cry.  Brandon is a fucking basket case who really should not have been cleared by the psych staff to be on this show.

Anyway, the whole thing just ruins the Solo Date with Kasey that day.  There's some kind of hanging on ropes on the side of a building and then rooftop windy pool situation, who cares.  Hey, what is up with the name "Kasey" with a "K"?  At some point in the late 80's was there some famous person named Kasey with a K that I missed?

Group Date slash Lone Ranger movie embedded advertising.  One of these stupid let's-do-movie-stunts things they do almost every season, sprinkled with advertising for the Armie Hammer-Johnny Depp BLOCKBUSTER that's coming this summer.  I'm sure it'll make a bazillion dollars or whatever, but really, Gore Verbinski, doing a tie-in with the Bachelorette reeks of desperation.  This is the territory of third-string J Anniston romantic comedies, not epic thrill-bores.  Anyway, Joan Pablo wins whatever kind of contest they're running here which is no surprise because he is JUAN PABLO and has a Spanish accent and is a former professional soccer player.  I bet JUAN PABLO is on this show because he has now had sex with every single woman in America and needs something else to do with his time.  They watch a screening of the movie with "the popcorns" and FUCKING TALK THROUGH THE WHOLE THING.

That night, by the campfire, Drilling Fluid Engineer must have tripled up on the Adderall because he is tweaked out of his skull and is licking his lips like a monitor lizard.  He begins hopping from rock to rock making guttural, screeching noises.  His brain is a fever storm of electrical activity.  Meanwhile, James' dad has a "cancer spot" and he wants to make sure Des is here for the right reasons!  WHOA MAN!  THAT'S NOT HOW WE DO!

Cut to the following day where we're having some kind of pool party for some reason and Ben goes off alone with her for a minute because he's a contestant on a dating show and is trying to advance his position on the show but this unaccountably makes the grown man named MIKEY enraged again.  MIKEY then riles up Michael G., who solemnly informs Ben that they will not be friends!  Mikey gathers up his GI Joes and his Star Wars action figures and makes sure Ben knows he will not be playing with them again.  Brandon starts crying.

Rose Ceremony!  Brooks looks moist and narcotized.  Cut this week are Brandon the Decompensater and Some Guy Named Dan.  Bradon awesomely says he got his "heart smashed by a hammer" and "once again, someone left me."  LINE FORMS RIGHT HERE, LADIES.

Found this on Deadspin

Candy Land: The Game You Can Play With 30 Of Your Emotionally Stunted Friends

A few years ago, local blogger Jasper Infante served his court-ordered community service in a day-care center for developmentally disabled children and came back with a question: Why can't fully-grown, marginally-employed, overeducated, semi-competent adults enjoy Candy Land?  It sounded silly - but this is a man who takes Candy Land seriously.

On a recent afternoon, Infante is leaning against a vintage server tower in the garage of his Mission District home.  Amidst a swirl of crude photographs of scrawled graffiti, empty tall cans, and flyers for his Candy Land league, a stack of pristine, unopened copies of Hasbro's iconic sweets-themed game sit poised, ready to make their debut.  "You know Hasbro released various versions of the game," he says.  "There's even a fucking Dora the Explorer edition.  We don't fuck with that.  Classic Candy Land or no Candy Land," he says, matter-of-factly.

It's Monday evening - league night - and in two hours, an assemblage of young San Franciscans will pack into a dimly-lit back room of Non Sequitur, a Mission watering hole popular with bloggers and other bloggers.  The back room, or "Candy Castle," plays host to some of the most competitive Candy Land seen outside preschools, and some players even arrive dressed as Princess Lolly or the more recently added Duke of Swirl.

Slowly the players coalesce around a dozen gameboards and, almost imperceptibly, play begins.  The reassuring sound of cards being drawn and tokens advanced on the board fills the room, punctuated by the occasional whoop of delight or a hissed curse that can only mean one has landed on a licorice square.  The crowd is incredibly diverse - young and early middle aged, white and very white, all united only by a love of the game and a noticeable lack of drive.

It's rare that you'll find an amateur Candy Land player who's been able to leave his day job for the craft, but that's what Infante has managed to do.  "Hard to say where it goes," Infante muses, squinting into the barlight amidst the murmur of a room full of Candy Land in progress.  "Are we going to be on ESPN within a year?  Maybe.  Nationwide soon?  Possibly.  Get better attendance than any Marlins game?  Already there. The world is really our oyster.  Or should I say our Gumdrop Mountains?"

You should, Jasper.  You most certainly should.

(Inspired by true events)

The Bachelorette: Wouldn't it be awkward if someone's parents were homeless? What would they do then for hometown visits?

Just asking.

Final Four! Hometown visits! Shit's getting real! First we see Ems back in Charlotte and rushing home to Lil Rikki wearing.....wait, what the fuck? Some kind of death's head shirt?


Hi Rikki! So good to see you! Can't hear anything over your screams of terror! No, sweetie, it's not a monster! It's what's left after the skin is stripped from your face! Why are you crying?

Boring recap/Emily voiceover about the 4 who are left. Wait, Jef has a "little bit of an edge"? WTF? He's about as edgy as a bowling ball. I get the feeling a wild night for Jef might include some non-decaffeinated Celestial Seasonings and some Family Guy DVDs.

We kick off with Chris in Chicago. He comes out to her as Polish. Hey, what happened to Polish jokes? That was a thing when I was a kid. Another victim of political correctness! I need to contact a Republican about this. Anyway, after a brief pit stop in a Polish restaurant for beers, they're off to Hanover Park to meet the fam. Sturdy-looking Polish Dad, American Mom, and 2 cute enough sisters. Em wants to know if Chris is ready to be a father. Dad says "he will do his best." That should fill you with confidence! The crispier sister is a little worried and wants Em to dump Chris ASAP if he's not the one. FORESHADOWING. Oh, come on. You know what's coming. Hey, do you think Chris's perma-five-o-clock-shadow is planned or he just needs to shave? Oh Christ, surprise! There's a Polish band out back. Soon Chris will be polka-ing alone.

Next stop: St. George Utah, for Jef's "family ranch." Quite a spread they have there! After a little ride in some ATV thing, it's time for some target practice. Jef thinks Ems "looks so hot with a gun." Have I got a treat for Jef. On to meet Jef's family. Well, except for his parents, who couldn't be bothered to show up for this thing on national TV to meet their son's possible wife. Holy shit, there's a crapload of them. Wait, is that the lead singer from Smashmouth?


They're drinking lemonade! Ohhhhh, right, Mormons. That's a dealbreaker right there. Families are great and all, but without booze they're basically intolerable. Ems sits down for a group interview with the sisters. I don't know what's going on here but they all look like they have different parents. One looks like the homecoming queen and one looks like the mean girl from an 80's movie and one looks like Jonah Hill in a wig. Then Jef & E go hang out and he reads her some long thing he wrote. What's up this season with guys reading Emily these treatises on how much they love her? She's like the muse of mash notes.

NEXT. Arie in Scottsdale. Seriously, Scottsdale is like a Bachelor/ette Production Facility. There's always at least 3 or 4 from there. They take a spin in Arie's racecar and then it's off to meet everyone. Oh, shit, no wonder his name sounds familiar! His dad won the fucking Indianapolis 500 twice! Mom's Dutch too and looks heavily plastic surgeried. So they all sit down and everyone starts talking in Dutch! AWKWARD. Oh, Mom wants to know why it didn't work out with Brad. Dad seems like he might be a little sweet on Emily too. Might want to lock the door if you spend the night there!

OK, one more stop. Sean in Dallas. By the lake. With some dogs. Of course. It's so painfully all-American it hurts. OMG, who decorated their house, a team of grandmas? Sean's niece and nephew are "Kensington" and "Smith," of course. Why would you give a girl a name that will inevitably be shortened to "Kenny"? The South Park jokes will never end with that one. Kenny has a playhouse that's nicer than most people's real houses and it has A/C and it was also decorated by whatever octogenarian did the main house. Anyway, the centerpiece is an elaborate practical joke in which Sean confesses that he lives at home and shows her a messy room and then HA HA HA not really. But it does raise a good point: Em should be checking out where these dudes actually live, not their parents' house. That way you can see if they have light-up beer signs or copies of "Man and Beast Quarterly" or whatever.

We're gonna wrap this thing at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills, the only place I've seen tonight that I actually want to go to. (Rooms available this weekend! $695 a night!) Let's get this on. We know what's coming. Racecar Arie first. Then Jef. It's down to Sean and Chris. The only thing Chris would win against Sean is a Being Polish contest. And, indeed, he is gone. He still hasn't fucking shaved. He's like a facial hair Chia Pet or something. Anyway, he doesn't cry much in the Crying Limo. And then there were three.

Let's talk about that guy who killed that mountain lion for a second

Have you ever thought "I wonder what the mission of the California Fish and Game Commission is"? Yes? Well, wonder no more:

The Mission of the California Fish and Game Commission is, on behalf of California citizens, to ensure the long term sustainability of California's fish and wildlife resources by:

Guiding the ongoing scientific evaluation and assessment of California's fish and wildlife resources;

Setting California's fish and wildlife resource management policies and insuring these are implemented by the Department of Fish and Game;

Establishing appropriate fish and wildlife resource management rules and regulations; and

Building active fish and wildlife resource management partnerships with individual landowners, the public and interest groups, and federal, State and local resource management agencies.

TL;DR? I'll nutshell it for you: the job of the FGC is basically to set wildlife policy in California and make sure that existing policy gets enforced. Hunting mountain lions in California has been illegal since 1971. Here's a picture of California Fish and Game Commission President Daniel Richards:



Hey, what's that dead thing he's holding? Oh, it's a mountain lion he shot in Idaho in January, NBD. As it happens, shooting mountain lions is perfectly legal in Idaho. Daniel Richards didn't break any laws. Still, tons of people are super pissed and somehow Gavin Newsom got involved and wants him to resign.

(I love how Gavin got elected Lieutenant Governor, an office which has the power roughly equivalent to an attendant at a Citgo station, and has ever since struggled mightily to keep his face on the news. His clawing for relevance is amusing, to say the least. I was surprised when he didn't show up for the America's Got Talent auditions in SF last week. I hear his rendition of "Misty" is heartbreaking.)

So we can all agree that Richards didn't break any laws by shooting and then eating the mountain lion ("It doesn't taste like chicken," he told conservative talk radio hosts John and Ken in Los Angeles. "The closest thing is pork loin. It's a white meat. It's really good, and actually in frontier times it was a delicacy because it's tough to bag one of them."). So what's the big deal?

I think it's a perception thing. It just doesn't feel right that the guy who's in charge of busting anyone who shoots a mountain lion gleefully crosses the border into another state to shoot a mountain lion. It's like if we had a police chief who made a big deal about busting hookers (I know, but it's a thought experiment, play along) went to the Mustang Ranch in Nevada and took pictures and bragged about what a great prostitute he had sex with. Doesn't it seem kinda hypocritical or something?

I mean, say you shoot a mountain lion in California (and you're not the police - they seem to shoot mountain lions with some regularity) and you get (rightfully) hauled into court. Wouldn;t you feel like saying "But hey, the guy who's in charge of busting me just did the same thing!" I know, different state, but still, it's a perception thing.

Anyway, who knows how the whole thing will turn out. He seems like kind of a jerk who enjoys pushing people's buttons, so that probably doesn't help. I'll guarantee you one thing, though - the one animal California Fish and Game Commission President Daniel Richards wishes it was legal to shoot in California is Gavin Newsom.

The Bachelor: Back from the dead!

Guess what? Tonight we're heading to San Francisco, or as every chick irritatingly and repeatedly calls it, "San Fran." Ben says about a million times how much he loves it and how it's his home and blah blah blah we get it. Anyway, the harem is installed at the Fairmont and we're ready for some activities. Hopefully they do some authentic San Francisco stuff like eating a small disc of artisanal something for $62 or doing key bumps in the bathroom at Blow Up!

We begin with a solo date with Emily. Whatever, you guys, I like Emily. She seems cool. They're off to climb the Bay Bridge! Ben and Emily manage to wake up some CalTrans workers long enough to get some climbing gear and then up the cable they go. Laugh all you want, it does look fucking terrifying. And Emily's afraid of heights! Haha. They're going up and she's freaking out and he says "TALK TO ME GOOSE" and I was all "What the fuck?" and The Wife told me it's from Top Gun and now we know that B is the kind of dork who uses Top Gun quotes in conversation. Anyway, they make it to the top and discover the skeletal remains of a family of German tourists who got lost.

[TRUE STORY INTERJECTION: I have a friend who (totally illegally) walked up the cable of the Golden Gate Bridge one time in the 90's. He made it to the top and said he found an empty Budweiser can and a pile of human shit. Then he walked back down and didn't get caught. That would not happen today.]

Night portion of date. They're having an outdoor dinner. At first I was all "Why aren't they shivering and why isn't the food blowing off the plates?" and then I remembered they were filming this during the heat wave last summer. Serendipitous! Anyway, Emily tells some story about dating her older brother or something, I wasn't really paying attention.

Group date. Just your usual everyday bikini skiing on a street in San Francisco. Remember when they were filming this? SF Weekly does! Anyway, it's like extreme sports as conceived of by a 14-year-old boy. I am vicariously embarrassed for everyone. For the nighttime portion of the date, we head to the Tonga Room and start doing some shots. Someone says "I don't think there's going to be any drama tonight." THAT'S FORESHADOWING and means there is going to be a lot of drama tonight. This drama will take the form of Brittney realizing for the first time that SHE IS ON A TV SHOW and this TV show involves COMPETING WITH OTHER WOMEN TO WIN THE AFFECTIONS OF A BADLY-HAIRED MAN. What, did you think you were going on Slutty Jeopardy or something, Brittney? I mean, have you ever watched this show? Do you own a TV or do you just hang out with Grams and go to bingo? FUCK. She cries a lot and says leaving the show was the "hardest decision of her life." Second hardest was trying to decide between General Tso's chicken and moo shoo gai pan the other night at Golden Lotus. Anyway, KMAGYOYO. You are not here for the right reasons. You must take your ugly purple roller bag and get into the Cab of Tears and go back to wherever they grow people like you.

Speaking of B's hair, it is now starting to look almost as bad as Ali's dime-store extensions a few seasons back. Really, ABC, at least give the man some shampoo.



OK, time for a solo date with LINDZI or however the fuck you spell it. I'm not Max Factor or anything, but even I can tell you that girlfriend needs to learn how to put on some makeup. Even a little lipstick might help out. Anyway, they're off for a tour in one of those fake cable cars. They're tooling around and just as they're passing through the fucking CHINATOWN GATE, which is festooned with paper lanterns and Chinese characters and whatnot, Lindzi goes "WHERE ARE WE NOW?"



Well, I don't know, Lindzi! Maybe this is Little Armenia or Frenchtown! Hard to figure out! Maybe there'll be a visual clue of some type. Sigh. So they go to City Hall and Matt Nathanson is playing which is fine, he seems totally inoffensive and whatever and I'm just psyched it's not Third Eye Blind or Smashmouth. Then it's off to Bourbon and Branch to not eat yet another fancy dinner and he's all "Hey, how come you're still single?" and she tells a very sad story about how she was in love once but he had to be put down after he broke his leg in a race.

DUN DUN DUNNNN. MEANHWILE, a dark presence is drawing closer. It's some chick but they're filming it like it's a hired assassin which would be sweet.

OK, Cocktail Party time. B comes in and now his hair looks like the skinned pelt of a diseased squirrel. Jennifer gets some alone time and she could probably blow a .15 at this point, girl is LIT UP and she babbles on about how she likes him and pats him and is getting weird. WEIRD. This leads to some Deep Tongue Exchange. Swear to God, one person in this group has mouth herpes and everyone's got it, 'cause this guy is making the fuck out with everyone.

The Darkness has arrived. Hey, it's Shawntel of the Dead from Brad's season! She has managed to pull herself away from her ghoulish corpse play long enough to try and get back on TV. Meanwhile, B and halibut-eyed Courtney, who is increasingly resembling a lizard with her tiny food slot mouth and dry, hard lips, are up on the roof and Courtney goes on about how'd they'd make "cute babies," and (1) NOT A GREAT STRATEGY, and (2) ugh, some kind of lizard-human hybrid baby with cold clammy luggage skin and that little mouth slit. No thanks.

Shawntel cruises in and upsets the herd. Her mere presence reduces some women to tears, while others are shaking in rage. It is as if we told them the spray-tanning machine is broken or that Katy Perry will not make any more albums. So she has a little chat with B and it comes out that they've "talked before," which is obviously code for "banged after one of those Bachelor parties and then he didn't call because he had moved on to Jennifer Love Hewitt and also the VIP cocktail waitress from a casino in Laughlin" and so they have this awkward convo and she wants to be on the show because she's decided she prefers the company of the living now. Courtney pronounces this whole situation "whack." Too true, Courtney.

OK, this is running long so let's get to the Rose Ceremony and GTFO. They;re all lined up and BOOM! ERIKA GOES DOWN. ERIKA GOES DOWN. WE HAVE A GIRL ON THE FLOOR. All the other chicks immediately start offering advice, like "Breathe in through your nose and out through the mouth" and "Put your head between your legs" and "Begin to rethink your life choices." Anyway, the Medical Staff gets her upright again just in time to show her the door, along with Jaclyn and Shawntel too. Jaclyn flees in tears. Jesus Christ, people.

I'm already going to hell, so....

The theme of today's post is RELIGION. Oh boy.

ITEM NUMBER ONE: Why do people hate Tim Tebow?

(I just realized that not everyone may know who Tim Tebow is. Tim Tebow is an American footballer generally considered to be of average-to-poor skill at his position, which is quarterback for the Denver Broncos. Previous to this, he was considered to be of superior skill at his position in college, which was quarterback for the Florida Gators. Some people are really good in college and not very good in the NFL. Anyway, Tebow is also known for vehemently and publicly practicing his religion, including frequently kneeling on the field to thank God for a successful football outcome and/or to beseech his help at a crucial moment. Despite his seeming lack of skill, the Denver Broncos keep winning games that they shouldn't win. This is more due to Denver's excellent defense than anything Tim Tebow is doing, but quarterbacks always get more attention than defenses. Back to our story.)

Oh, look, Deadspin already answered this question: Why People Who Hate Tim Tebow Hate Tim Tebow.

I'll nutshell it for you: Because anyone other than Tebow in Tebow's position would be EXPECTED to succeed, but somehow, for Tebow, it's a case of God pulling the strings for a gutsy believer who is somehow triumphing despite being a valiant underdog.

Athletes giving credit to God is nothing new, but Tebow sort of takes it to a whole new level with his very public displays of faith and whatnot. Let's leave aside the obvious question - with something like 200 billion galaxies in the universe, each containing 200-300 billion stars, there must be trillions or quadrillions of planets, and many of those must have life, so why does God take a personal interest in the outcomes of sporting events on one of those planets and, moreover, why does He not seem to care so much about cricket or curling? - and instead ponder WHY IT'S NOT GOD'S FAULT WHEN TEAMS LOSE. The way I see it, if you give God credit for winning a game (or doing well on a law school final, or getting your lost wallet back (actually, that one was St. Anthony, not God, but they work in the same office), then the Big Guy gets the blame when things go south.

How great would that be? Imagine the sideline reporter interviewing the kicker who missed the game-winning field goal: "Well, I lined it up perfectly, hit it dead on, and it sailed wide right. God really fucked us on this one. Thanks for nothing, God. Zero for you in the collection plate tomorrow. Winners get paid, not losers."

SIGH. I'm sure there's a Deep Theological Reason why it's not God's fault but I don't really care.

ITEM NUMBER TWO: R.I.P. Christopher Hitchens, one of the best atheists of all time.



Like I said to someone last night, I didn't always agree with Hitchens - on his strong support for the Iraq War, for example - I always wished I could write like him.

Please meet these former Miss California contestants

For complicated and boring reasons, I recently had the occasion to come across the Miss California website which features all of last year's contestants and all I have to say is wow. I think my favorite thing about it is that it appears that the contestants have made a concerted effort to look like the area they're representing. You know how like on Miss Universe they're always wearing their colorful native garb? Same thing.

They're also from very very specific geographic areas! Like, this is Charlotte Giustiniani, from "North Brentwood." Not Brentwood, mind you, but NORTH Brentwood:

WHOA, BRITTANY HIGH FROM LARCHMONT VILLAGE,I just got arrested for looking at your picture. Did someone offer you candy or something to come down to their basement for your photo shoot?



I gotta be careful because you know these chicks are all Googling themselves 24/7 and I don't want them to find my blog and then go "Oh, what a fucking asshole," even though I'm totally used to that.

Just a couple more, though, cause this is totally fun.

Erika Robertson is from "Honey Bee Haven," which sounds like a syndicated children's TV show. She's got a real Black Swan thing going on:



OK, now you guess one. Where's Holly Doll from, you think?



Got your guess? Ready? She's Miss East Sacramento! I know, right?

I got one more, and she's my fave. Please meet Jael Lloyd, Miss Glendale:



The headband! The peace sign tattoo! We will get high and listen to Ariel Pink on vinyl and drink homemade sangria and just have a blast. Miss Glendale doesn't care. She's down for anything.

Have a nice weekend.

The Bachelorette: More of this Bentley crap and frankly, everyone's fucking sick of it now

Like Romeo and Juliet, this season of the Bachelorette has also been all about star-cross'd lovers, although instead of the Montagues and Capulets, we have a relentlessly perky future dentist from Maine and a heavy-lidded sociopath from Salt Lake City with a daughter named "Cozy." This season has been all about Ashley Chipmunk and Bentley and we are reminded of that fact by his name coming up about 10 times in the first 3 minutes of this episode and as it turns out ABC has flown him to Hong Kong, the next stop on our Worldwide Tour, and I am hoping for a murder-suicide but will no doubt be disappointed. Instead, Chipmunk goes to see him in the hotel and I guess he sort of dumps her or something and anyway she walks away to this swelling music that is meant to make us think that she is a Soaring Bird Who Will Fly Away With Love. She also sums it up with a bleeped "fuck you" and would have come in handy, oh, THREE EPISODES AGO.

Let's get back on track now. Solo date with Lucas, who has never been to any big city, so Hong Kong should be a good start. Chipmunk must be feeling better because she's back to spouting her usual inanities like "Look at the street market! People are selling things!" (ACTUAL QUOTE, NOT MADE UP.) Very good, Ashley! What does the cow say? Then they have some dinner on a boat and he tells his boring divorce story and whatever. Why did I decide not drinking on Monday nights was a good idea?

Group date time. The 6 losers are separated into groups of 2 and then electrocuted on the beach. No, wait, I was just imagining that. No, instead they must fan out in Hong Kong and recruit people to man dragon boats for a race. A surprising number of locals have Prior Dragon Boat Experience! It must be like Rec League softball there. Anyway, then there's a dragon boat race that's about as interesting as a rerun of the McNeil-Lehrer Report from 1981. For the Night Portion of the date, we are off to some Vegas hotel-looking bar where Ames yanks Chipmunk into an elevator and does what I guess he imagines the humans think is romantic. Seriously, this guy is SO FUCKING WEIRD. He's like a bad actor trying to play someone who's uncomfortable all the time.

Solo date w/ JP. They're having dinner in "Kowloon Walled City," she thinks but I don't think so because "demolition began in March 1993 and was completed in April 1994." Oh, wait, I guess there's a touristy replacement thing. Anyway, usual outdoor dining thing. God forbid we go more than 10 minutes without a Bentley reference so she tells him all about her meetup with Bentley and JP nods all understanding-like and he's all like "Thank you for your honesty," you crazy fucking basket case. Then they take some tram up to the top of this mountain and HOLY SHIT THERE'S THAT SAME GUY FROM EVERY SUBWAY STATION PLAYING THAT CHINESE INSTRUMENT THING. You cannot get away from that guy. He is stalking us all.

Cocktail Party! Holy shit, things are busting out all over with Chipmunk and the Breastanator 5000 dress she's rocking. Lest another second pass without a mention of He Who Is Called Bentley, she repeats her fucking Breakup Story to the whole group and ABOUT FUCKING TIME instead of cocking their heads to the side and saying "Awwwww," THEY PISSED. Good for you guys! Chipmunk deploys the Girl Natural Defense Mechanism, crying alone quietly, but they ain't having it. Mickey's all "I don't know what you saw in that guy" and bounces! Good for you, man! Blake gets all pissed too but then he realizes this isn't really helping but it's too late because once you're mean to Ashley she will love you forever never forgive you. He gets cut.

Exit interview: Blake says, plaintively, "I just want a friend." Blake, you need to be on "America's Next Top SPCA Rescue" because WE ARE NOT HERE TO MAKE FRIENDS.