x.x.2020
Me? I’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m a robot.
You? You guys are an amazing group of humans with distinguishing personalities, fantastic stories, and impressive devotion. And a little bit more to worry about now.
Obviously, we never felt when we started this weekly gathering back in 1997 that there would be a disruption in the “force”, but it’s happened. Though we’ve been mulling some “virtual TNSC events” courtesy of today’s technology, our regular weekly meetings are obviously suspended until further notice by our state and federal governments.
In this time that we’re physically apart, please be safe, cautious, and observant. Shelter in place but let your imagination roam. Remember that Everclear™ 120ยบ also makes a good sanitizer. Someday, hopefully soon, we’ll be elbow to elbow once again, hoisting a toast to "the good times”. But during this unprecedented situation, I wish, from the bottom of my mother board, safety and health to all of you and yours.
Longtime list member and link submitter Heather Lake passes along these bar fundraiser links to help prop up the folks who help prop us up weekly [updated]:
(adding Spec's to the list)
The Homestead
The Make Out Room/Latin American Club
The Rite Spot
Lucky 13
Benders
Club Deluxe
Bottom of the Hill
Thee Parkside
Virgil’s
The Uptown
El Rio
Mr. Tipples Recording Studio
Stookey's Club Moderne
Doc's Clock
Spec's
Dogpatch Saloon
Elixir
Pop's Bar
Bloom's Saloon
House of Shields
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Thursday, March 12, 2020
Traffic (REDUX)
3.2.2020 (first posted this week 2002)
Have you ever done the equivalent of walking out of a bad movie with a book? Stopping reading – maybe mid-sentence – and closing the cover for good? I got one going right now that I’m seriously considering jettisoning. There are several factors involved in this pending no-confidence vote.
First, the book is supposed to be a horror novel. So scary, in fact, that author felt no name other than Ghost Story could better suit it. I’m two hundred pages in (roughly a third of the total) and there ain’t been anything spooky, scary or psychologically frightening. I’m waiting for a payoff. The title says something about ghosts. Where are the frikkin’ ghosts?
I went to see a movie a long time ago. I saw Sex, Lies and Videotape in the theater. I heard it was a good movie, so some friends and I went. I didn’t expect it to be porn, though, like some jock-type losers sitting near us did. Minor fidgeting, bored derisive catcalling and finally a loud exodus spoke to their movie review. We laughed at them as they walked out saying, loudly: “This sucks! Where’s the fucking tits? This is stupid! You fucking perverts!” Those National Merit Scholars saw the words “sex” and “videotape” and thought hardcore. A swing and a miss. I saw the words “ghost” and “story” and I thought horror novel. Is that a wrong conclusion?
Another thing that bugs me about the book so far is the author’s style. His style is nothing less than pompous. He goes into intense detail to show off his word-smithery.
His verbosity detracts from the mood: Three pages of detail of the spooky forest – detail down to the dreadful patterns of the spiderwebs and haunted slugslime trails. Ugh. It smacks of bad poetry.
Lastly, and somewhat related to my last point, some of the words this guy uses are nothing short of arcane: bonhomie, signeurial and pettifogging. I have a pretty deep lexicon and I love to learn new words but I don’t like it when a word like bonhomie derails the narrative train. Further, I don’t care to learn words that I’ll never use myself. I might think it, but I’ll never say, “What I like most about that John Volny is his bonhomie.”
I’m giving the story another hundred pages to get better or it gets the hook. I got The Sun Also Rises in the queue and it waits for no man.
Tonight - The 500 Club
News: Last week’s meeting at Argus sure was fun. People asked how we chose such a great venue (Thanks Raub), they wondered why we hadn’t been there before (don’t know), they asked if we could go back again (why not), and most spectacularly, there was a sizeable female turnout! As I mentioned, TNSC had started to resemble a boy’s club, but last week was no indication of that. Therefore, tonight’s venue has been scientifically chosen to promote attendance: It offers easy access via streetcars, busses, cabs and even light rail.
Tonight's Contest: Find the Reference!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Members: Lori Joseph
Porn Title of the Week: Fortune Nookie
Stay tuned for announcements for the TNSC Croquet Tournament. It will be happening in a few weeks. Meantime, come on down to the venue tonight. Bring your friends. I know I will. See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Have you ever done the equivalent of walking out of a bad movie with a book? Stopping reading – maybe mid-sentence – and closing the cover for good? I got one going right now that I’m seriously considering jettisoning. There are several factors involved in this pending no-confidence vote.
First, the book is supposed to be a horror novel. So scary, in fact, that author felt no name other than Ghost Story could better suit it. I’m two hundred pages in (roughly a third of the total) and there ain’t been anything spooky, scary or psychologically frightening. I’m waiting for a payoff. The title says something about ghosts. Where are the frikkin’ ghosts?
I went to see a movie a long time ago. I saw Sex, Lies and Videotape in the theater. I heard it was a good movie, so some friends and I went. I didn’t expect it to be porn, though, like some jock-type losers sitting near us did. Minor fidgeting, bored derisive catcalling and finally a loud exodus spoke to their movie review. We laughed at them as they walked out saying, loudly: “This sucks! Where’s the fucking tits? This is stupid! You fucking perverts!” Those National Merit Scholars saw the words “sex” and “videotape” and thought hardcore. A swing and a miss. I saw the words “ghost” and “story” and I thought horror novel. Is that a wrong conclusion?
Another thing that bugs me about the book so far is the author’s style. His style is nothing less than pompous. He goes into intense detail to show off his word-smithery.
His verbosity detracts from the mood: Three pages of detail of the spooky forest – detail down to the dreadful patterns of the spiderwebs and haunted slugslime trails. Ugh. It smacks of bad poetry.
Lastly, and somewhat related to my last point, some of the words this guy uses are nothing short of arcane: bonhomie, signeurial and pettifogging. I have a pretty deep lexicon and I love to learn new words but I don’t like it when a word like bonhomie derails the narrative train. Further, I don’t care to learn words that I’ll never use myself. I might think it, but I’ll never say, “What I like most about that John Volny is his bonhomie.”
I’m giving the story another hundred pages to get better or it gets the hook. I got The Sun Also Rises in the queue and it waits for no man.
Tonight - The 500 Club
News: Last week’s meeting at Argus sure was fun. People asked how we chose such a great venue (Thanks Raub), they wondered why we hadn’t been there before (don’t know), they asked if we could go back again (why not), and most spectacularly, there was a sizeable female turnout! As I mentioned, TNSC had started to resemble a boy’s club, but last week was no indication of that. Therefore, tonight’s venue has been scientifically chosen to promote attendance: It offers easy access via streetcars, busses, cabs and even light rail.
Tonight's Contest: Find the Reference!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Members: Lori Joseph
Porn Title of the Week: Fortune Nookie
Stay tuned for announcements for the TNSC Croquet Tournament. It will be happening in a few weeks. Meantime, come on down to the venue tonight. Bring your friends. I know I will. See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 05, 2020
Making Plans for Nigel (REDUX)
3.1.2020 (First posted this week 2005)
The "Boys of Summer" have finally arrived - and I don't mean 1980's Don Henley. True, Summer is several months away (hell, Spring hasn't officially "sprung" yet), but yet many folks are flocking South to warmer climates, seeking beer, Polish Sausages, and, of course, Baseball. One of those fortunate few happens to be our beloved TNSC Robot. The only UNFORTUNATE thing is that he's there to see the Chicago Cubs. When will their fans ever learn? Granted, you can get a delicious "Old Style" served right at your seat in the venerable Wrigley Field. Mmmmmm......beeeeeeeeeeeer. And in true San Francisco Giants form, at the time of this posting, they've blown their early lead. But I digress. On to my true task here:
So stepping up to the "TNSC Venue Annoucement Wheel", I spin........and.............the destination for this evening is..........Benders!!! (by request)
Bite my shiny metal ass!!
Please join us in a round of well-wishing for several out-of-town (and out-of-country) guests who will be departing again for the "Great White North". Don't forget your mittens.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
The "Boys of Summer" have finally arrived - and I don't mean 1980's Don Henley. True, Summer is several months away (hell, Spring hasn't officially "sprung" yet), but yet many folks are flocking South to warmer climates, seeking beer, Polish Sausages, and, of course, Baseball. One of those fortunate few happens to be our beloved TNSC Robot. The only UNFORTUNATE thing is that he's there to see the Chicago Cubs. When will their fans ever learn? Granted, you can get a delicious "Old Style" served right at your seat in the venerable Wrigley Field. Mmmmmm......beeeeeeeeeeeer. And in true San Francisco Giants form, at the time of this posting, they've blown their early lead. But I digress. On to my true task here:
So stepping up to the "TNSC Venue Annoucement Wheel", I spin........and.............the destination for this evening is..........Benders!!! (by request)
Bite my shiny metal ass!!
Please join us in a round of well-wishing for several out-of-town (and out-of-country) guests who will be departing again for the "Great White North". Don't forget your mittens.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 27, 2020
I can do what I want. (REDUX)
2.4.2020 (first posted this day 2003)
I had a dipshit for a neighbor when I was growing up. He did really stupid suburban white-guy things like leave a strip of grass between our lawns if he mowed after us. Or me, rather. Mowed after me. I mowed the frikkin' grass. Didn't mind. I'd mow interestin g patterns in the lawn: Circuit boards, snail trails, concentric circles, etc. I really liked making an Etch-A-Sketch-like pattern in the lawn in th e morning and then waiting for the evening or even the next day to "erase it." I liked the idea of all the cop helicopters seeing a crude, shaved-ber muda grass "Last Supper" for a day. Or the TV news choppers maybe spotting the likeness of an erupting Mt. St. Helens I carved into the lawn (The log jam of downed trees in the South Fork Toutle River turned out rather well if I do say so myself.) But back to the jerkweed neighbor. He left the str ip of long grass because he was a dumbass. Further evidence: He had a semi-hollow grapefruit tree in his yard. Some birdys made a nest in it. Once , while he was watering his trees with the garden hose, he figured maybe filling the hollow with water would be the best way to water said tree. He dr owned the birdys. The tree had to be chopped down. Dipshit.
The one cool thing he ever did was quite extraordinary and totally by accident. While mowing (having just left the strip of tall grass between the am biguous border), his wife came out to yell at him or ask him something. They were talking over the din of the mower when her head suddenly snapped ba ck - as if having been hit by something. She then ran into the house. He dumbly shut off his mower, thinking his wife (did I mention? Also a dumbas s) might be in some sort of distress. Well she was. They went to the hospital and the doc dug a fucking penny out of the side of her head. The mowe r had kicked the thing up and by freak chance nailed her in the head, penetrating it. Wow! What a shot! No shortage of fun and games in my old 'hoo d.
Tonight - The Homestead
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I had a dipshit for a neighbor when I was growing up. He did really stupid suburban white-guy things like leave a strip of grass between our lawns if he mowed after us. Or me, rather. Mowed after me. I mowed the frikkin' grass. Didn't mind. I'd mow interestin g patterns in the lawn: Circuit boards, snail trails, concentric circles, etc. I really liked making an Etch-A-Sketch-like pattern in the lawn in th e morning and then waiting for the evening or even the next day to "erase it." I liked the idea of all the cop helicopters seeing a crude, shaved-ber muda grass "Last Supper" for a day. Or the TV news choppers maybe spotting the likeness of an erupting Mt. St. Helens I carved into the lawn (The log jam of downed trees in the South Fork Toutle River turned out rather well if I do say so myself.) But back to the jerkweed neighbor. He left the str ip of long grass because he was a dumbass. Further evidence: He had a semi-hollow grapefruit tree in his yard. Some birdys made a nest in it. Once , while he was watering his trees with the garden hose, he figured maybe filling the hollow with water would be the best way to water said tree. He dr owned the birdys. The tree had to be chopped down. Dipshit.
The one cool thing he ever did was quite extraordinary and totally by accident. While mowing (having just left the strip of tall grass between the am biguous border), his wife came out to yell at him or ask him something. They were talking over the din of the mower when her head suddenly snapped ba ck - as if having been hit by something. She then ran into the house. He dumbly shut off his mower, thinking his wife (did I mention? Also a dumbas s) might be in some sort of distress. Well she was. They went to the hospital and the doc dug a fucking penny out of the side of her head. The mowe r had kicked the thing up and by freak chance nailed her in the head, penetrating it. Wow! What a shot! No shortage of fun and games in my old 'hoo d.
Tonight - The Homestead
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
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