Who will finally look out for me and my fellow white males?

After much consideration and careful deliberation, I must reluctantly announce that I am compelled to join in opposition to the appointment to the Supreme Court of Sonia Sotomayor. As a straight white male, I simply cannot accept yet another Supreme Court justice who is unwilling to look out for my rights.

Like my fellow straight white males, I have felt the sting of discrimination many times. It becomes so routine, we internalize - nay, even accept - it, but that doesn't make it right. I feel it every time I step onto a dance floor or eat spicy food. When I walk into my corner store, the guys suddenly stop talking in Arabic or whatever it is they speak and then just smile at me and I know they were just talking about me. There are whole blogs dedicated to making fun of me.

And now you want to put a justice on the Supreme Court who doesn't have, as her top priority, protecting the rights of me and my fellow white males? I proudly join with my brothers Jeff Sessions and Lindsey Graham and say ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

In other news, convicted Laci-killer Scott Peterson (or, I guess, his family) has set up a website seeking donations to help pay for his appeal. Um, good luck with that.

Today's Top 5

1. Jonathan Sanchez' amazing motherfucking unbelievable no-hitter

So improbable. You know how amazing this is? It's like if you were born in 1982 in Puerto Rico and went to Ohio Dominican University in Columbus and pitched four no-hitters there and then got drafted in 2004 by the Giants and eventually made the club and looked pretty good and then fucked up and got demoted down to the bullpen but then Randy Johnson got hurt and so you got to pitch and you just happened to pull a fucking no-hitter out of the bag. If all that happened, that would be like what happened to Jonathan Sanchez on Friday night.

2. I'm wearing an "I Survived Ikea on a Sunday" t-shirt.

Oh, Billy bookcase. You're worth it.

Sadly as it you might have secretly suspected, Ikea is evil like Wal-Mart. Fuck, can't anything be guilt-free these days?

3. Drinking on Sunday

Underrated.

4. Steaks on the grill

Shout out to my boys at Drewes Bros. for the top-notch flank and hangar steak. 4-6 minutes a side, perfect.

5. Treasure Island lineup announced

We've got the Flaming Lips, Decemberists, Beirut, Grizzly Bear, Yo La Tengo, The Walkmen, Bob Mould, and others. Not bad, but probably not as good as last year (Vampire Weekend! Okkervil River! Spiritualized! Fleet Foxes!). The more electronica day looks pretty good, too, but I'm not going to that, which suck because I'll miss The Streets but whatever. Shit's expensive.

These Are the Things I Can Do Without #114, 115

#114: Personal Space Invaders

You've got the whole train to be in, homeboy, do you have to stand directly on top of me? What is it about this particular one square foot that's so beguiling?

According to Important Scientific Research, Americans prefer 18 to 24 inches of personal space. (Digression - I encourage you to click on that link, just to enjoy the truly bizarre picture of the multiculti dance party. You just know that white woman in the dashiki is insufferable.) Now, don't get me wrong, I understand that mass transit is what it is and not everyone can be surrounded by their own personal Happiness Bubble on a crowded commuter train. But dude, when the train is MOSTLY EMPTY, there is no goddam reason why you have to stand RIGHT NEXT TO ME like we're dating.

(Further digression - Apropos of nothing, I highly recommend the Edupass guide to Cultural Differences, which is apparently aimed at students coming to the US for the first time. It is just priceless. For example, we learn in the "Toilets" section that "The words 'loo', 'earth closet', and 'usual offices' will generally not be understood by Americans." Earth closet?!?! AWESOME. But personally, I'm using "usual offices" from now on. How fucking cool is that? "Excuse me, I've got to go to the usual offices.")

Same goes in line at the bank. Feeling your hot breath on the back of my neck is pretty much the last thing I want, and it doesn't make the line move any faster if you're surgically attached to my back. Step off a little.

#115: Personalized License Plates

Oh, CHAD50, we could have just suspected that you were an asshole undergoing a midlife crisis as you cruised by in your Jetstream Blue Metallic Corvette. But you had to go and get a personalized license plate and remove all doubt.

Image courtesy of the indispensible Vanity Plates: Creepiness in 8 Characters or Less

What on Earth would move you to get a vanity plate? Can't you see that by putting 2COOL4U on your tag, you're proving the exact opposite? It's too bad that we can't require the numbnuts who get these things to get plates that actually reflect their real beings, like WATADBAG or IH8DADDY.

Do we have a developing snake situation here?

Perhaps in advance of the End of Times on December 21, 2012, there has been a sudden uptick in Documented Snake Acitivity. Why, just this morning, our friend Inger noticed this disturbing sign posted in Noe Valley:

Jesus Christ! I can handle lost adorable kittens, but a FOUR FOOT LONG MOTHERFUCKING SNAKE? Sure, let me just scoop him up and give you a call!

Then there was this disturbing post on SFist:

That's up at Bernal Hill, where we walk the dog sometimes! I mean, used to walk the dog sometimes!!!!

Now, normally snakes don't really bother me much (although, in the case of the two large-ish snakes described above, I might make an exception), but you have to understand that The Wife has a deep-seated, nay, pathological fear of snakes. In fact, she told me once, "If I was ever in a locked room with a snake and a gun, I'd shoot myself." We can only hope that this recent flurry of snake activity is followed quickly by the End of the World, for her sakes.

The incredible shrinking Zagat's SF nightlife guide

Just received my new & updated Zagat San Francisco nightlife guide. I get it for free because, you know, I'm a thought leader because I submit reviews online and anyone who does that gets a free one.

Man, it's a lot smaller this year!

L-R: The 2007-2008 Zagat SF nightlife, with weird cover crease reflection; the unyeared "Eighth Edition" with no cover crease.

I will say that, to Zagat's credit, the cover price also went down substantially, from $13.95 to $6.95, but it's like half the size and the page count went from 171 to 94.

So who didn't make the cut in the new edition? Gold Cane is out, but Hobson's Choice stays in. Gestalt is out, but Foreign Cinema - which isn't even a bar, but a restaurant, and certainly not something I'd think of as "nightlife" - stays in. So does the actual bar that's attached to Foreign Cinema, Laszlo. Mr. Bing's is out, which is good, because the fewer people who know about Mr. Bing's, the better.

I don't know. I don't see any particular pattern to who got cut and who stayed in. I guess maybe the number of votes played a role. I'm sure more people voted for the execrable Medjool than the very nice Shotwell's (which I'm kind of glad wasn't included). All of this is kind of academic because if you're relying on Zagat's nightlife guide to find a good place to go, you're probably SOL anyway.

At least I didn't break anything, as far as I know

Well, that was a long weekend.

The Wife and I kicked it off with a miserable experience Thursday night at Salt House. SH is owned by the same people who own Town Hall, which we loved, so we were expecting a great meal. WRONG. My chicken was so dry it was actually hard to chew, and The Wife got this polenta that was saturated with cheese to the point of being cloying. Oh, and the service pretty much sucked too. I don't know if the waitress had too many tables or what, but everything took goddam forever. Bad service. It's my curse.

Then my jacket got stolen at Annabelle's but I guess that's not technically Annabelle's fault.

Saturday we had a big July 4th cookout at our place. I'm not sure how between the two of us we spent over $500 on this but I do note that the assembled crowd went through 3 pounds of Whole Foods grass-fed organic beef, a bunch of sausages, a pack of veggie burgers, some veggie dogs, 2 bottles of Pimm's No. 1, 6 or 7 bottles of wine (I think), 3 cases of beer (or maybe more, it was a little hazy, as you might be able to gather at this point), one large vat of homemade potato salad (which was awesome, BTW, and I will be making more of soon), and so on and so on. Nothing like grilled burgers, right?

Around 10 pm things were winding down but no stopping the party, right? So The Wife took off with a few others for Debaser whilst me and Stoney and The Sister cabbed over to Solstice where more drinks were consumed and maybe bad choices made. I finally saw The Wife again when she got home from Debaser at like 3.

Yesterday we laid around all day and did nothing. It's agreed: We've gotta make some changes in our lives.

Product testing: Axe shower gel

Like any right-thinking man, I have been beguiled by the advertisements for the Axe family of grooming products. As you know, the TV ads typically depict a rather humdrum fellow who, upon dousing himself with an Axe product, is set upon by a pack of suddenly sex-crazed young minxes, who have been driven to bacchanalian abandon by the mere whiff of the man's fragrance. Here's a perfect example.

Now, it's possible - possible - that maybe I'm not in the Axe demographic, but in the interest of science, I embarked on a recent experiment to test the accuracy of these advertisements. Since I'm now married, and didn't want to put myself in a situation where I'd be unable to control the gang of women hurling themselves at me, I undertook this test within the confines of my own home.

THE PRODUCT: Axe Phoenix Revitalizing Shower Gel. Not sure what the significance of "Phoenix" is. Perhaps the suggestion that I will rise, phoenix-lile, from the flames of Uncleanliness and Not Getting Laid? Or is the product intended for use specifically in Arizona?



THE TEST: Finished assembling, and then moving around, some furniture yesterday. Became appropriately sweaty. Showered using the Phoenix. Observation: Feels refreshing! Like there's actually some chemical in it that makes your skin feel tingly.


ANTICIPATED RESULT: Wife saying "Oh my God, you sexy piece of meat. Violate me like we're on Spring Break. Let's make Caligula look like Captain Kangaroo. Take me!"


ACTUAL RESULT: "What is that? Are you wearing cologne? Ugh, you smell like you're from Walnut Creek."


There you have it. Axe shower gel. Do not want.