OK, let's talk about Die Antwoord for a second, because it seems like a lot of my time this weekend was spent thinking and talking about Die Antwoord. D.A. is a rap (? I think) group from South Africa that are one of two possible things:
1. A savant-like brilliant band getting the recognition they deserve; or
2. An elaborate piece of performance art, although to what end I'm not sure.
Evidence for #1: the video for "Enter the Ninja."
Evidence for #2: a short film made by Amoeba Records on Haight in LA when the band came there. Now, in this one, they seem like they're totally putting us on, right? I mean, this has to be a joke, right? Hey, how come DJ Hi-Tek is a different guy every time?
"Do you like fish sticks? You're a gay fish." I mean, not even crazy South Africans with long textual tattoos talk like that, right?
Last night we went to Hog & Rocks. Since it's a new place and new places are better than old places, it was very crowded. We were told we had to wait, even though one of the people in my party was a Famous Person. I thought famous people didn't have to wait for anything! But they did say they'd call us when the table was ready. They wouldn't do that for someone non-famous, I bet! So we went back to Stephen and Jessica's apartment and drank beers for a while until they called and said our table was ready.
I'm not gonna lie to you, we were drinking. I had a Tom Collins! WTF! Who knew anyone made those any more. In fact, the whole cocktail list looks like it came from a steakhouse in Denver in 1979. There was like a Manhattan and a margarita and a tequila sunrise. The Tom Collins felt a little too girly so I had a whiskey sour after that. zOMG it was the best whiskey sour EVAR! I'm going to start drinking whiskey sours more often.
For an appetizer we got pimento cheese and some avocado thing I didn't eat. Fuck, I love pimento cheese! Do you guys even know what that is? It's ground-up cheese and mayonnaise and pimentos. I'm not doing it justice, that shit is off the hook. The version at H&R was a little too liquid-y but I got mad respeck for anyone who puts motherfucking pimento cheese on their menu and it's not, like, a joke.
Then this chick walked in wearing what looked like a cut-up sofa slipcover and some feather earrings she stole from Stevie Nicks! People.
All the main courses are like $10 or $12, dig? No wonder the place was packed. I wasn't that hungry because I had already like 16 beers so I got some jamon serrano. You know what that is? It's a pile of ham. That suited me just fine. Stephen and Jessica are vegetarians so they were pretty much fucked because it's called "Hog & Rocks," not "Potato & Rocks." They got some side dishes that were really good, though. There was a brown bean kind of thing that tasted OK.
Oh, I forgot, there were some oysters too but I didn't have any of those. I don't like oysters! If I want to eat snot I'll get a cold, OK?!
I also had a glass of garnacha. That's wine, FYI. The pour was a little small but I was pretty lit by that point anyway.
You know what else? The service was fucking ON POINT. I hate hate hate bad service more than anything including Hitler, but this service was awesome. Probably because of the Famous Person, but maybe they're like that with everyone! I doubt it.
I guess there are all kinds of boring tactical reasons that you can read about here. Personally, I've been a big fan of Spain going way back, at least to 2008. But wait, there's more.
First of all, I don't have anything against Holland or the Netherlands or whatever they're calling themself this week. I think the song "Holland 1945" by Neutral Milk Hotel is just gorgeous and perfect. (O/T but wasn't Neutral Milk Hotel supposed to get back together or something? What happened with that?) By all accounts, Holland is a beautiful and wonderful country and all that jazz.
But Spain! If I had to pick one of the two countries to live in, I think I'd have to pick Spain. First of all, which sounds better to you:
"Spain 's location on the temperate zone lends it a sub-tropical climate almost uniformly throughout the year."
OR
"The Netherlands has a maritime climate, with cool summers and mild winters."
Cool summers and mild winters I can get right here! Give me some of that sub-tropical climate almost uniformly throughout the year, brother!
Plus, I like tapas. What's Dutch food? Hutspot? "A dish of boiled and mashed potatoes, carrots and onions"? No thanks. I'll take some tortilla espanola and Jamón ibérico any day. And Albariño! I love Albariño. Do they even make wine in Holland? I can't be for anyone who doesn't make wine.
Soon after I moved to SF years ago, I heard a story that went something like this:
My friend's brother was on the 30 Stockton one time near Chinatown when this little Chinese lady tried to get on board with a live chicken. The driver says, "Hey, you can't bring a live chicken on the bus!" So she snapped its neck and just walked on.
Quite a tale, huh? Over the years, I've heard it at least 4 or 5 more times, each time recounted as having happened to a friend of a friend of the narrator. (In the universe of urban legends, this person is called a "FOAF," an acronym for "friend of a friend.") It surfaced on Muni Diaries not too long ago.
So yesterday, on one of SFGate's super-duper-look-Ma-I'm-doing-New-Media blogs, a variant of the story appeared yesterday. In this one, thankfully, the chicken escapes its premature transit-occasioned demise:
Muni buses may be getting less crowded when service cuts are partially rolled back in September, but there still won't be room for loose chickens on board.
That's what a guy tried to do today on the 30-Stockton bus line in North Beach. He hoped to hop onboard at the corner of Union Street and Columbus Avenue with a fully grown, brown-feathered chicken tucked under one arm.
The driver shook his head, saying, "You can't bring that bird on here."
After a futile moment of pleading, the birdmaster, looking a little scruffy and sporting a baseball cap turned backwards, replied with a curse.
The morning commute continued.
First off, note the completely unsourced nature of the story. Did the author, "John Cote," witness this event personally? Did he hear about it from someone else? A FOAF, perhaps? It's suspicious from the get-go. Imagine if real journalism could get away with shit like this!
The three guys at your corner store are actually Al-Qaeda members.
When they say they are going in the back to get more Yoo-Hoo, they are actually working on a bomb to blow up Cha Cha Cha.
Anyway, nevermind that the wretched fowl escaped unscathed in the SFGate blog version. Unleash the SFGate commenters, eager to recount the urban legend again and again and again!
joeyjess 2:40 PM on July 7, 2010
This happened many years ago on the same line, when I was a little kid....when the bus driver told the lady she couldn't bring a live chicken on the bus, the chicken's owner promptly broke its neck and tried to re-board.
sockmonkey 2:44 PM on July 7, 2010
Years ago I was riding the 30 Stockton when the driver pulled up to a stop and an old Chinese woman started climbing the steps to board. That's when the driver noticed the bag she was carrying was moving and squawking. "Lady!" he said, "You can't bring a live chicken on this bus!" She quietly stepped off the bus, reached in the bag, snapped the chicken's neck, climbed back on and that was that.
phreakshow 2:51 PM on July 7, 2010
my sister saw this happen once with a little old chinese lady on the 30 Stockton. She was told she could not board with a live animal. She broke the chicken's neck and boarded the bus.
capdragon 3:03 PM on July 7, 2010
True Story.......
A couple of years ago my wife was riding on a bus headed towards the Haight. A Chinese woman got on around Powell. She was carrying a live duck. The driver told her she couldn't bring the duck on board. So in front of everyone she proceeded to twist the duck's neck until it cracked. There was a collective gasp from the passengers, but the driver then let her on with the dead duck.
Wouldn't it be nice if immigrants who come to America had enough respect for our values that they learn, not only English,but some of our cultural values as well, like common courtesy.
Vampirella 3:37 PM on July 7, 2010
About 10 years ago I was on the 30 Stockton when this same thing happened. Only is was a little old Chinese lady who promptly wrung the chicken's neck and then got on the bus.
sandiegopete 4:04 PM on July 7, 2010
I was riding a Muni bus years ago when an Asian woman started to board the bus with a live duck in a bag. The driver told her no pets were allowed on the bus. She said it wasn't a pet it was dinner. He still wouldn't let her on so she reached into the back and snapped the duck's neck and said to the driver, "Now its food". He let her board.
scientific 4:44 PM on July 7, 2010
There is an old, old story going around about a lady in Chinatown (probably on the 30 Stockton) trying to get on the bus with a live chicken. When the driver told her she couldn't bring a live chicken on board, she simply wrung its neck. Problem solved!
That's a lot of dead chickens! Let's see here. Joeyjess, Sockmonkey and Vampirella all say it happened to them - always "years ago." Capdragon doesn't go all the way to FOAF, but goes with the more conventional "happened to someone I know." Maybe it's easier to just skip the FOAF when you're an anonymous Internet commenter.
You also have to love the fact that Capdragon, being an SFGate commenter, can't resist a little side of xenophobia with his entree of urban legend. Yeah, why can't the fake people in my made-up story stop acting so, y'know, foreign?
Anyway, I think the story persists for a couple of reasons. At the root of it, it's kinda funny, and shows a clever way to solve a vexing problem. It's got that surprise twist ending that all good urban legends have. Plus, it plays on the general unease white people have about foreigners in general and Chinatown residents in particular. My kids'll probably hear this story one day.
Some SFGate commenters have it figured out!
bridgeofbardo 6:07 PM on July 7, 2010
There must have been, like, a million people on that 30-Stockton bus "years ago" when that "old Chinese woman" got on with a live chicken and the driver said et cetera, and then she et cetera. You guys who re-posted that ancient urban myth here today (that everybody has heard) just lost all credibility. Ha ha ha!
Who knows? Like many urban legends, there's probably a grain of truth in there somewhere. The fact that people bring live chickens on Muni has been pretty well-documented:
It’s Monday night, so you know what that means! Soft crying and self-medication. Oh, and The Bachelorette. We’re in Lisbon! I can tell because Ali says something in a foreign language that has the word “Lisbon” in it. We first see the Final Five lined up in some public square. Unfortunately, they’re not being shot for treason. Oh, look, Frank is wearing Baby Gap! HOW CUTE. I love his little anchor tee.
Solo date with Roberto. They run around Lisbon taking pictures of each other until Roberto says “When I hear music, I’m sorry, I can’t help but dancing.” It’s his fiery Latin blood! Or whatever he is. He proves this to be true by dancing in the middle of the sidewalk and annoying Lisbonites. They get on Lisbon public transit, which is just like Muni except it’s empty, there aren’t any 14-year-olds tagging the interior, and it goes more than 1 mile an hour. They go to some castle and drink wine and make out. Ali says she “can’t figure him out”! Wow, the Jumble must be like Fermat’s Last Theorem for her.
Meanwhile, back at the hotel, the guys are talking about HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THAT THING ON CHRIS’S FACE?
It’s the worst case of ringworm in history or he slept on a hot plate or something. Maybe ABC can use some of the Ali’s Hair Budget that they haven’t touched to get him some medical care.
OK, 2 on 1 date with Ty and Franksta. Fuck, ANOTHER helicopter ride? I haven’t seen this many helicopter rides since “Apocalypse Now.” They go to some other castle and have the Most Uncomfortable Dinner Ever. Ty darkly warns Frank to “stay away from the spinach” which is pretty good advice because spinach is deadly poison. Frank and Ali go off alone and he confesses that he lives with his parents. That explains why he dresses like a 9-year-old! He says it’s brought his family closer together. Someday maybe you can live with them too, Ali! Oh, he’s wearing a thumb ring, ew. Frank is just sad.
Solo date with Kirk. They take a horsedrawn carriage ride to Clicheville. Ali’s hair now looks like the rotting strands of a dead bird’s nest. They have yet another romantic dinner on the roof. Blah blah blah no one says anything remotely interesting. Kirk says he deserves love and happiness. What he deserves is the graveyard shift at a 7-Eleven in Hoboken, but life isn’t always fair. They come upon a Witch from Hell singing some godawful music. She gonna put the Evil Eye on you, Ali! You gotta tip her!
Next we have a solo date with Dead Mother. They’re going for a scooter ride. This has a Difficulty Level of about 20 for DM. It’s a fucking bicycle with a motor, not a goddam F-18, DM! They stop at the Scenic Overlook to talk. He wants her to meet his family. Most of it, anyway! Then they talk about his dead mother, shock. Next they visit a winery where DM gifts her with something he calls a “Dennis bracelet.” I think that’s what he called it. It’s a piece of wire with a ball bearing stuck to it. That’s Old World craftsmanship! Ali’s very touched because she’s never had a piece of jewelry that only cost 45 cents to make. You gonna have a green wrist tomorrow, Ali!
On to the Elimination. She cuts Ty and his awful wardrobe. Ty is clearly not “31,” as he claims, BTW. She walks him to the limo in the pouring rain and stands there until her spray tan starts to melt.
Now we have the Jake and Vienna Couples Counseling Session! It’s so vile and awful that I’m not gonna say that much. Vienna, who is looking even more Fetal Alcohol Syndromey than ever, says Jake wasn’t there for her physically. Oh snap! He says she was cheating. That was Gay Todd over at my place, you jerk! Let’s get the polly-a-graph machine! In other news, Vienna is working on a line of hair care products for cancer kids. It’s called Invisible Shampoo and only angels can see it! Chris Harrison is speaking for all of us when he says, “OK, we don’t really care about the dog.” True, Chris Harrison, true.
Coming up next week: We continue limping towards the inevitably painful demise of this fucking train wreck.
No, I'm not talking about the maggots on the plane, although that is HORRIFYING and some truly next-level End Times shit. (Also, love ya, New York Daily News, for "Maggots like the ones pictured above tumbled from an overhead bin...." Because, you know, we have to show a picture of maggots to go with your McGriddle but we don't have a picture of the actual USAir maggots. But I digress.)
Ryanair wants passengers to stand during its flights so the budget airline can squeeze more people onboard.
The Irish air carrier plans to cut costs by making fliers perch on stools with seatbelts around their waists.
Chief executive Michael O'Leary has already held talks with US plane manufacturer Boeing about designing an aircraft with standing room.
I've flown on RyanAir before. It was HELLA janky. First off, it was like 7 a.m. and we were flying from Shannon to London and the guys across the aisle from us were already pounding liter cans of lager and yelling. Then halfway through the flight the flight attendants come down the aisle selling lottery scratchers and stuffed animals and CDs and crap.
On the other hand, I just checked their website and you can fly from London to Venice today for 17 Euros, which is about 20 bucks. But I'm not playing, RyanAir makes Southwest look like the Players Club or something.
(RyanAir also flies to lots of mysterious places, like "Perpignan" and "Fuerteventura." What the fuck is "Perpignan"?)
Gavin Newsom's wife's trust held stock in Transocean, the company that owned the drilling rig that is now permanently ruining the Gulf Coast. BFD.
It turns out that San Francisco's eco-conscious Mayor Gavin Newsom and his wife, Jennifer Siebel Newsom, own a piece of the deepwater rig at the center of the gulf oil disaster.
According to the mayor's most recently filed economic disclosure statement, last year the couple invested between $10,000 and $100,000 in Transocean Inc. - the company whose ruptured deepwater rig, which is leased to BP, is spewing millions of gallons of oil, endangering wildlife and beaches all along the Gulf Coast.
So what? I'm sure my mutual fund is invested in baby seal coats and Bible stores and whatever. I have no Earthly idea what I'm invested in. I highly doubt Gavin knew either. And if he knew, through some weird circumstance, that his wife was invested in Transocean, do you think he did some due diligence and found out that Transocean ran deepwater drilling rigs in the Gulf of Mexico? Please.
Yes, it would be best if we researched every company that our spouse's trust is invested in to make sure they're all in line with what we believe, but who really does that? Besides Ed Begley? I mean, the new chancellor of UCSF had a substantial investment in tobacco stock. Tobacco! And she's the chancellor of a medical school with a famous anti-smoking crusader on the faculty! She had that stock from August of last year until someone noticed last week. See my point?
Generic thinks this will cost him the race for Lieutenant Governor. I say it costs him, at the outside, a few hundred votes. The majority of Californians will never hear about this story. Gavin may lose for other reasons - namely, that there are a lot of Republicans in California - but this? Hardly.
TK lives and works in San Francisco. He occasionally travels to places east of the Caldecott Tunnel, but not very often. His interests include bars, reality TV, and irony. Things seem to be going fine.
So yeah, Spain.
