Time Out for Fun

12.5.2kXI

In typical TNSC holiday fashio , our bylaws require we take the Thursday following Christmas off. Harkening back to our collegiate days, TNSC will also be enjoying an extended "Winter Break" for the first weeks of January, 2012.

When we reconvene in mid-January, it'll be the first meeting to launch our 16th year of operation. That means that we could possibly get a learner's permit from the DMV. Scary.

Until then, have a safe and festive New Year, and in your free time, remember to take Time Out for Fun.

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Flo

12.4.2kXI

Being an American, I made pancakes and fried up bacon for my family on Sunday morning. Preparing for a flip, instead I was distracted by a crash out on the street beyond the kitchen window, followed instantaneously by somethin' flyin' by at a VERY low altitude. I first thought one of those little go-karts had wrecked at high speed and whizzed by. Nope.

Nope, it was some butthole that was speedin' through the neighborhood and hit the treacherous dip out front and lost control for long enough to clip my little wife's car. What I saw flyin' was the butthole's side mirror that she sheared off on my little wife's side mirror. Both were beyond help; the butthole's broke and hurt by the impact and the near 50' it flew through the air before it hit the pavement.

Anyhoo, the LAPD rolled out and wrote up a traffic collision report. The officer also told me that they'd caught the butthole, and that the butthole was drunk AND a girl. Swell.

So I called the LAPD the next day and they gave me the deets on the drunk grrrrl, which I plugged into the WWW. Turns out, the drunk grrrrrl is a waitress at a vegan restaurant.

Perhaps I'm misguided on the whole vegan thing, but I though it wasn't just a food choice but an whole lifestyle. The Vegan lifestyle. Hemp clothes, few showers, a high-n-mighty attitude. That kinda thing. Excluded, in my estimation, would be boozin'-up before noon on a Sunday, speeding through residential neighborhoods and hitting-and-running. Am I naive?

Good thing the stupid bitch had insurance. She will be paying for her stupid shit.

Tonight - Homestead.

Merry Christmas David Geffin. Happy Hanukkah, everybody. Peace out!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Kang and Kodos

12.2.2kXI

Tonight - Lucky 13.

HBD Mat!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Nosey Redux

12.2.2kXI

Holiday airport security lines sure are fun. It's hilarious to see the people frantically putting their things in ziplock baggies then barging their way through the crowd to their former place in line. Everyone gets SO upset. And then there's the look that most people have on their face: I hope they don't single-me out! Not that there's any contraband (hopefully, yo) but just for the inconvenience of a "wanding." The line I got in the other day ran out of plastic bins just ahead of me. The jerks up there were to lamb-like to tell the sleepy TSA folks that they were out, so we stood there. And stood there. I started to say something when a guy with a cart made of PVC (non-metallic, sure, but looks like Fred Sanford made a bunch and sold'm to the gov't. Cheapy-as-hell) wheeled up a stack. It was funny to see the folks who had already taken off their shoes scurry their toes outta the way of them monster plastic wheels. Then it was funny to see the grrrrl who showed everyone her thong was way up her crack as she struggled taking off her UGGS. Seriously ... don't those things come off easy? (The UGGS, that is.)

Tonight - Club Deluxe.

Last Little Minsky's Burlesque show of the year.

Xmas Xtravaganza, featuring:

Lady Satan
La Chica Boom
Miss Balla Fire
Vienna La Rouge
Josie Starr
Sid Scenic

music - The Bluebelles and Sheelagh Murphy
MC - the hilarious Ethel Merman

Doors 9pm/show 10pm - $5 cover


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

The Gorge of Eternal Peril

12.1.2kXI

I suggest to all Lovely Listmembers that you request from your loved ones (or just snag for yrself) an upgrade to yr vehicle's main deflector shields. I did such a thing just after getting hit by a duck in SF and I've deflected a couple of Prius (don't care what they say the plural of Prius is), a speeding white car with some fuckin' bitch at the controls and a no-look-step-into-traffic granny already this month (read: TODAY).

Winds dropped trees, roofs and power poles all over town last night, and folks in cars are not too happy about the inconvenience of the debris.

Fuck'm.

Tonight - "The Hideout" at Dalva.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

WHOOPS

11.2.2kXI

Dang. Busy!

Tonight - Club Deluxe.

Deets:
Little Minsky's Deluxe / Burlesque thing -- $5.
LITTLE MINSKY'S

BURLESQUE
Mariel a la Mode (LA)
Vienna La Rouge
Dottie Lux
Vera DeVille
Sid Scenic

VARIETY
Russ Lorenson - vintage crooner
Karina Denike - songstress extraordinaire
Lily Taylor - smoky jazz chanteuse
Michael McIntosh - piano maestro

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Let nurse give you a shot

11.1.2kXI

I have to retire the "Rock Lyric of the Week" section of the weekly email.
There's several song lyrics websites that come up when I google the week's choice, but over the years, each and every one of them has gotten worse and worse. The first thing that started sucking was the popup that said, "Make "Where Eagles Dare" your rigntone!" That itself got worse and worse because the code behind it got slower and slower. Ya had to wait for it all to load so you could kill it.
Then, the websites started embedding the site name randomly throughout the lyrics. Ya had to manually cull the references out. ugh.
Now they have lyrics rendered into pictures so ya can't copy and paste them.
I think the poor little sectio has too much stacked against it.
Bye bye.

Tonight - Lone Palm.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Ska ... ? (Redux)

10.4.2kXI

When I lived in Chicago the city's professional basketball team, the Bulls (perhaps you've heard of them), were very good and won the championship several years in a row. Back then I gave a crap about basketball and it was really exciting to watch the games and feel the tension mount in the city and be rewarded with a fun, city-wide celebration.

The day that the Bulls won their second straight title I was sitting in a bar (surprise) hours before gametime having a cold beer. In walked the neighborhood's plainclothed cops came in and asked the big Serbian bartender when he was closing for the night. He told them 5 a.m., which is the normal closing time for Chicago bars. The cops said, "No, what time are you closing tonight?" The barkeep looked confused. "5?" he said. The bigger of the two big cops said, "You don't understand the question so I'll say it again: What time are you closing TONIGHT?" Something dawned on the bartender. "3 a.m.?" he said. The cop leaned in and said, "What did you say?" "Um ... I think I'm closing at 1 a.m. tonight," said the bartender. I nudged my roommate and said, "We need to stock the fridge cuz all the bars will be closed." I thought about it. "Probably a good idea," I said, looking at the cops. They were satisfied and said to the bartender on their way out, "see you at 1." I think Mil closed up at midnight.

Later that night my sister and I were saved from an exploding M-80 by a stranger. My ears rang for weeks.

Tonight - The Homestead. RIP John Robb... we're going to miss seeing you hunkered down on your barstool, nursing a shot and pony back, and working on a crossword puzzle. Thanks for all of the great conversation.

Here's tonight's: Find the Reference!

Play "Find the Reference." The title of the Venue Announcement refers to something in the rant. Find the reference and win a prize.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Disco Inferno

I got the bloat.

No Quarter

10.2.2kXI

It was great to see some of you last week and I'm really sorry the venue got swapped-out for a more friendly environment (Edinburgh Castle). Woulda liked to have hoisted one (or more) with all y'all.


Tonight - Club Deluxe, featuring Little Minsky's Burrrrrr-lesque, and the Return of the Flying Fox

Doors at 9pm, show at 10. $5 cover.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

88.7 FM

10.1.2kXI

In 2002 I had no job. I flew to Chicago for vacation and while I was in the air, a call came into my phone offering me a job. I took it. It was hard, and for a time, GRUELING, but it was one of the best jobs I ever had.
In 2004 I had no job. I flew to Chicago for vacation and while I was in the air, a call came into my phone offering me a job. I took it. It was easy. I sat around and waited for something to happen and it never did. I got several fat checks and a space heater.
In 2011 - today, actually - I'm driving to SF. While I'm in the car, who knows who will call my phone. I'm guessing Alan.

Tonight - Hemlock Tavern. (it's their 10 year anniversary, so it might be "cozy")


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Diamond Dave

9.4.2kXI

I saw a green recycling truck the other day with a picture of a dumpster diver diving into a dumpster and the words, "Dumpster Diving is a CRIME," or something similar. Who knew? I know some of those divers make enough for a car, while others can't afford a babysitter and have their children in tow while they scavenge. The latter makes me sad and the former makes me MAD!

No shit, there's some cat with a car - a light pickup, actually - who swings by, stops, parks, shuts'r off and dives my dumpster. He snags some stuff (mebbe he's a she? Wat eva), gets back in, cranks'r up and is off. Goddam truck is washed, too. Grrrrr.

So I gathered up some of my new pet ants, told them I'd put some snacks (unwashed recyclable containers and beercans with a sip left) in the dumpster and they could have at it. They jumped and yelped for joy.

I next saw the lazy diver jumping and yelping himself! Uh oh! All his treasures had meelions of ants in'm! He get bitey! I hope his truck is now home for some of my ants.

Tonight - HOMESTEAD.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Johnson

9.3.2kXI

My sister was visiting a week or so ago and we had a fun time, especially when we played the inaugural game of just-released AC/DC Monoply. (I was the stack of cash and she was the lightning bolt; I was indeed thunderstruck and I had to retire.)

Anyway ... we were looking at some dumb YouTube vid when Ez joined us. He sat on my lap and we switched over to some funny cat videos. Ez watched for a while and suddenly said, "Look, Daddy!" He was looking into his lap. I looked. My sister looked. He had his elastic-waistband ... uh ... lowered ... and his willy was peeking out. "Oh hell, Ez! Put that thing away!" I said. He laughed and did what he was told. My sister hyperventilated from laughing so hard. It was pretty funny, but I've learned the 4th Lesson of Parenthood well: You don't laugh at shit like that.

I spoke to my sister the other day and she said that she'd relayed that story to my uncle, who grew up in the 50s. They had a laugh and he asked if I'd disciplined him for that. She said no. He asked how Christi and I discipline him when it's necessary, and she said that we send him to his room, which is accurate. He told her this story:

"We were given a choice of a whipping or being sent to our room. Most of us chose a whipping, as it was over soon enough and you could go back out and play right away. One time a handful of friends and I were discussing the very subject and only one of the guys said that he chose being sent to his room. The other fellas and I looked at him sideways and asked why in hell he'd choose that. He said, "Cuz you can go up in yr room and think about pussy." We agreed that was a fine reason indeed."


Tonight - Elixir SF.

AC says, "Though (the choice of this venue is) against my better judgement, as part of SF "Cocktail Week", Elixir is hosting vodka tasting - featuring Swan's Neck Vodka 7p-9p." Can't be all that bad.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

9.3.2kXI

The two of you who read these rants might remember last week's story about the ant army that devoured the just-hatched winged termites and thereby cleaning up my garage. I thought I'd capitalize on this helpfulness and, as I needed some things cleaned, set the little fuckers on some other tasks:

I'd recently dug a shallow grave and needed my, uh, garden tools cleaned, so I made a solution of Karo® syrup and water, spritzed the tools and laid them in the garage. Overnight ... BINGO! Clean spades!

I poured some honey in JailBreak's gas tank and left the fuel hatch open overnight w/ the Jeep® parked in the garage. Next morning? Squeaky clean fuel line! In yr FACE, dealership!

And just last night, the goddam rats (having returned) tripped my peanut butter-baited rat traps and left some peanut butter residue on them. I figured they wouldn't need a spritz, so I left them as-is on the garage floor. Them traps are shiny and ready for some actio tonight!


Tonight - Bloodhound.


bye-ee!
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My dog has fleas!

9.2.2kXI

And my garage has termites! Well, it's the land lady's garage and it does indeed have the termites. I haven't blown my eardrums out, so when I'm in there, I can hear their munch, munch, munchin' away. The sound gets kinda gross after awhile.

I'm not an expert on termites, but it seems the little hungry grubs turn into ugly little slender flying bugs after a time. Once a year (around NOW, to be more specific), hundreds of the little fuckers litter the floor of the garage, desperately learning how to use their wings. They flap and flap and I suppose if they had enough time, they'd fly off and start eating somebody else's garage.

This generation did not have enough time.

I went in to retrieve something and thousands upon thousands of wee bitty ants were marching in their awesome little straight lines right into the midst of the almost-flyin' termites, swarming them, killing them and either eating them on the spot, or leaving with some take-out. I have a deal with ants. They can do whatever they want outside, but they die if they come in. The ants in the garage was in the grey area of this policy, but as they were dealing very efficiently with a bunch of stupid, gross, messy little pests, I let them go on ahead.

Later that day I went back and all the ants and all the termites were gone. Cool.

Tonight - Casanova.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Titliest II

9.1.2kX

The following is a partial transcript from a telephone conversation I had with my brother on September 1, 2001. (Thanks to Mrs. Pepper Sweetchunks for the transcription service.)

"Do you remember when we were children and we sponsored those neighborhood races?"

"We did a lot of races. We had the kids racing kids; the dogs racing dogs; the dogs racing kids; bikes against cars; bikes against skateboards; OH! and the swimming races. And remember the "Little People" races? Where we would take the Fisher Price wooden "Little People" down to the bottom of the deep end and let'm go and race to the surface?"

"Yeh but this one was between the snake and the spider?"

"I do remember that. What kinda spider was that?"

"I don't know."

"That was a good one. Why do you ask?"

"Something I never told anyone, and I'd forgotten about it until the other day. I spotted a small, cloth, draw-string bag washing down the gutter during a monster thunderstorm soon after the race. I picked it out of the gutter just before it washed into the sewer. I untied its strings and the snake and the spider fell out, dead. I'm sure it was the same ones we had raced."



Tonight - Lucky 13.

Because we're lucky to have our city back after a good majority of it vacated to the Nevada desert.

Also, wishing Miss Heather Lake (aka "The Cupcake Queen") a very happy birthday this week. Come on out and buy her a drink to celebrate!!



whrr ... clik!

I am a lineman

8.4.2kXI

Of all the strange things to land at the airshow my little family and I attended on Saturday was ... a craft fair.

We had experimental aircraft and blown-glass booths. We had WWII fighters and a dried fig tent. We had F-18s. We had a "flying wing." We had the motherfuckin' Red Bull® helicopter doing FLIPS. And, y'know ... we had a massage tent, a child ID tent, a smoothie tent and a home made candles for sale tent. They SHOULDA had a few more hot dog tents, as the line at the "Space Shuttle Cafe" was an hour long. At least there was something to look at, something doing tricks and trailing smoke in the sky.

Tonight - Homestead.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Copper

8.3.2kXI

I traded in my Standard-def TiVo for some POS Verizon HD-DVR. It's about as dumb as a rock, but the HD it shits out is purty.

All my TiVo favorites are gone and tryin' to A., remember them all (and their hierarchies), and, B., program that into Dumbo HD-DVR would be a waste of time. Better to forget most of those programs anyway.

So I flipped through the almost-unintelligible "guide" the other day and decided on a show called "Storage Wars." I chose this ONLY because one of the "featured participants" of this reality show recently sang "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" during the 7th Inning Stretch at Wrigley Field in Chicago. I hadn't seen this mope or his show before and he sucked at singing, was a boring, short interview and exited the booth before the end of the half-inning. This indicating that the TV announcers were as unimpressed by him as I was. The Cubs have had celebrities singing the stretch since our beloved announcer Harry Carey passed away in 1998. The celebs are A- and B-list entertainers, business types and athletes. This guy from "Storage Wars" was a distant ... I dunno ... F-list.

And his show sucks. And he seems to be the weasel among the "featured participants." Which then made me think of our poor, hapless Little Bears: The Cubbies are so fucking bad this year that they're having to dig deeeeeeep into the celeb pool to find someone, however disinterested, unknown and uninteresting to sing at home games.

Boo. Go Cubs.

Tonight - Argus.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

This Page Intentio ally Left Blank.

8.2.2kXI

























Tonight: Club Deluxe

Little Minsky's Burlesque w/ special international performers!! Doors at 9pm / Show at 10pm. $5 cover. See you there!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Santini Air

8.1.2kXI

Disclaimer: I'm inclined to NOT believe anything I read on the internets. I'm making some exceptions for this story.

I'm shit-crazy nuts about helicopters. Not just because my aunt flies one and not because they buzz my home day-in and day-out. Also because they're frikkin' beautiful and damn cool.

My love affair has gone on for some time. I know this because I used to LOVE the television show "Airwolf." It was a show about a helicopter with guns and shit and Jan-Michael Vincent stole it, hid it and flew around blowing shit up with it. It ruled my world back in '84 - '86, then it got stupid.

I hadn't thought of Airwolf for many years. Then I saw a Bell 222 fly over my home. As it is the same kind of helicopter that the Airwolf helicopter was, I remembered the show. And since I live in a world where damn-near every show is now streaming on NetFlix, I looked it up and - voila - there it is.

I was a young pup back in '84 - '86, so I didn't know '80s crap when I saw it, but I know it now and boy, is Airwolf crappy. Sure, the chopper is cool, but the story is dumb, the acting is bad and the music is awful. I got bored, so I looked up the show on wikipedia. There I learned a terrible fact: After the show was canceled, the Airwolf helicopter was sold and became an air-ambulance in Germany - where it crashed in a storm and killed all aboard! Shit!

I read that and sat stunned and sad. The show was still on and it proved a nice distraction. The story got stupider and stupider. I got bored. On the show, a plot point had the main character serving as the stunt pilot for a movie. He was stunt-piloting a Hughes 500 helicopter aircraft number N58428. I googled that number and - hot damn! - it was a helicopter that would one day become (one of) T.C.'s choppers in the still-great 80s show Magnum P.I.!! I forgot all about being sad. This was geeky fun at it's finest.

I told you I was bored.

Tonight - TNSC "Ground Zero": The Orbit Room.

C'mon by for a warming cocktail on this potentially chilly SF Summer evening.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

OTIS, My Man II

7.4.2kXI

My pal's dad just turned 87. I've known my pal and his dad since 1978, and while we haven't lived in the same city for a long, long time, we've remained close. I had a nice long chat with both of them a few weeks ago and I was vividly reminded of the dad's flair for telling stories, as he was goaded into telling some by his kids. He told a story that reminded me of a nutty thing I once did, and even though these rants are FULL of lies, Linkey-Loo Robot was there and witnessed the event, so he can authenticate if you like.

The dad's story: He (his name is Bill) worked for a time in a thirty-story building in Phoenix and took the elevator to the 18th floor. He's always been a very friendly man and was apparently feeling very-very friendly one morning riding the elevator, because when an attractive, well-dressed twenty-something gal remained as the last passenger in the elevator once the rest got off, Bill turned to her and said, "I cannot help but notice how nice you look. I know I shouldn't say anything, but you look great. I thought I'd let you know." The girl beamed, Bill said, and blushed slightly while modestly thanking him.
Insipred, Bill complimented another lady a few weeks later. She was the sole remaining passenger on the elevator and when he said she had an awfully sharp-looking suit, this thirtyish lady TURNED HER BACK on him. Sense came back to Bill and he shut the hell up and was glad she didn't pepper-spray him for his trouble. He didn't say shit to any more hotties.

Upon hearing this story, I recalled one night standing in the rain at Spaz's place, huddled around the fire with a lot of beer and a few strangers. We'd been there for hours; throwing shoes, drinking beer, barbecueing meats and we'd had so much fun that when a light rain began to fall, no one abandoned the giant fire Spaz had built in the pit. I had had enough domestic light beers to let rip an unsolicited comment to a niceish lady standing next to me. I told her she had beautiful skin. I swear I didn't have any ulterior motives and I had simply noticed that she had perfect skin and, well, told her so. She was surprised and said thanks. Her husband had been standing right next to her and had heard the entire thing but he didn't say or do anything except look at me a little sideways from then on. Alan had to sit down he was laughing so hard. True story.

Tonight - The Homestead.


bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Johnson Redux

7.3.2kXI

Ya like skippin' rocks across water?  Me?  I love it.  I enjoy the ritual of carefully choosing the right rock:  Smooth and flat, but with enough weight to put some elbow into.  Sometimes, for kicks, I grab a completely unworthy rock and huck it.  Them round, boxy rocks will indeed skip a couple times, given the proper angle and enough speed.
 
I often find myself feeling a bit sorry for those rocks I hurl into the deep.  I ask myself, "How long did it take that poor iddle-little rock to get up here on the riverbank or beach or lakeside or whate'r ... only to get flung back into the depths from whence it came oh-so-long ago?"  When I find myself feeling for the rocks I feel nothing but disgust for myself.  What a dope!
 
So after 30+ years of skippin' rocks, I paid 'em all back by getting myself skipped across a semi-placid lake, not unlike a skippin' stone.  Went up campin', ya see, and one of the campers had a skiboat with a big 'ol motor and a rope with which to drag a big 'ol innertube behind it.  The innertube had canvas handles and was real slick - it was built for the purpose of being dragged behind a skiboat.  Well I got in and the boat captain took off and GODDAMN is it fun to be dragged really fuckin' fast behind a boat.  In, on, and out of the wake is cool, but my favorite is when the 'tube and its passenger is flung way out beyond the wake.  I tried to get my face close-close-close to the surface of the water, and when I did I immediately felt what it must feel like to be a rock some fuckhead just skipped across the water.  Then, as usual, I thought I was pretty goddamn dorky for feeling like a rock and suddenly I hit a big (big being a relative word) BIG lake ripple and I got thrown the fuck out of the 'tube and right into the lake.  Complete with a facefull of lake water. 

Tonight - Kickin' it North Beach: Spec's (aka 12 Adler Museum Cafe)

Happy (almost) Birthday, Jay Herda!
See you there!
bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

The Angry Drunk Bureaucrat

(courtesy of)

7.2.2kXI

In honor of those cheese eating surrender-monkeys in Parisland, I'm presenting my itinerary for that lesser of democratic holidays in July, Bastille Day:

6:00 AM: Wake up.

6:30 AM: Breakfast; Black coffee, cigarettes, contemplation of the bleakness of existence. Argue that breakfast functions as a bourgeois substitute for real commitment in the world, even if it includes bacon.

7:30 AM: Surrender to Germans. Learn how appreciate Knackwurst, Wagner, and David Hasselhoff.

9:00 AM: Complain about the increase of trans-Atlantic hyperhegemony. Laugh at ridiculousness of American President. Pout. [Repeat as necessary.]
[•• this was from 2005, BTW]

9:30 AM: Raise subsidy on agriculture.

10:00 AM: Attack comparable international naval superpower (Greenpeace). Surrender.

11:00 AM: Decrease number of national vacation days from 49 to 48.

11:02 AM: Strike.

11:05 AM: Re-institute 49 vacation days.

Noon: Lunch; Black coffee, cigarettes. Eat cake.

12:30 PM: Execute King, Aristocracy, Criminals, Clergy, Royal Sympathizers, Arch-Revolutionaries, Revolutionaries, and anyone else who happens to wander by.

1:30 PM: Institute Empire with help of Corsican half-brother; invade Russia.

1:45 PM: Check weather to see why it's so cold in Russia in July.

2 PM: Surrender to Russia, Prussians, Austrians, English, Italians.

2:15 PM: Realize there is no Prussia anymore; Surrender anyway.

2:16 PM: Realize that no one has surrendered to the Italians since 312 AD; hang head in shame.

3:00 PM: Eat Beef Wellington; vomit.

4:00 PM: Plant more trees along the Champs-Élysées. Check with Berlin to ensure proper shadiness ratio.

5:00 PM: Throw up barricades, escape from literary personification of irrational vengeance, get shot, collapse, die, sing. Repeat at Tony Awards.

6:00 PM: Bathe (Optional)

7:00 PM: Dinner: Wine, cigarettes, cheese, wine.

8:00 PM: Night of passion with Mistress, Wife, Au Pair, Revolutionaries, and anyone else who happens to wander by.

Midnight: Surrender to Self.

In honor of this fine day, we're going to the Frenchiest dive that we know:

Lucky 13

C'mon out and wish long-time TNSC member Jason Porter a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

You earned it

7.1.2kXI

If you have the occasion to get unemployment pay, go for it, as you've been paying into it the whole time you've been working. I had a go in the early part of the last decade, and despite a rather ridiculously paltry weekly sum, I had an easy go of it: I just filled out the stupid form and the stack of quarters came in the mail.

I'm on my second round of state aid and this time it's gone differently. I'm afforded a much different view of the whole process, and it's wacky. (I think it's my fault, though, as I ticked the "Not Looking For Work" box on Week one.)

First thing is I got a letter saying I was scheduled for a phone interview on Wednesday between 10a and noon. Problem was, that Wednesday I actually had a meeting scheduled at 11a! I emailed the bureau and told them as much and asked them to reschedule. Their robot sent back email and said, "too bad. You can't reschedule." And that was that.

Of course, on my way to the meeting, the phone rang. I pulled over and answered it and some guy from the bureau identified himself. I told him what I just told you and expressed my dismay about their inflexibility and the guy said, "You checked the "not looking for work" box. Don't do that again and we won't call you." Oooh ... so that's how it works!

So I checked the appropriate boxes from then on and got a letter saying I was scheduled for a live interview at 8am on Thursday! It also said the appointment could not be rescheduled! So, I got up early and took Ez to the bureau office. He played with markers as the bureau stooge gave me job leads for Flash designers, dental technicians and gardeners (no shit). I was courteous and interested. Hell, I need my fucking stack of quarters.


Tonight - Tunnel Top.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Grab some Buds™

6.4.2kXI

I'm partial to the Fourth of July over many other holidays, cuz it's hot. Usually. Unless yr in Frisco. Then yr nuts, they are freezing.

Well I now like the 4th for another reason: It's the day before my kid's bday. Yes, the Pezman is fixin' to turn three on 7/5. He was born in Southern California, so I bought him some slip-on Vans® w/ dinosaurs on them, a wooden BBQ play set, and an LA-based National League MLB team that I got at auction. He loves baseball.

Tonight - Homestead.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Observatio s!

6.4.2kXI

I was alone on LAX-PHX round trip last week and I had the focus and attention to make some observations, none of which really amount to shit, but I'll share them with you anyway.

• The PA at LAX plays some weird music. I heard "Danger Zone" by Kenny Loggins over the din of the crowd. I wondered if they played aviation-themed music all the time and whether it answered the question or not, the only other song I could make out was The Steve Miller Band's "Jet Airliner."

• The coffee that the in-flight bev service is tepid at best. I guess there's still plenty of blow back from that moron who sued McDonald's for serving her coffee that was too hot.

• The coffee that the in-flight bev service is better than the "bold roast" served at Starbucks.

• Rush is really, really good in concert.

• It's hard to keep one's eyes off gigantic JumboTrons® projecting shit behind the band in a huge area-sized concert.

• It's hard to keep one's eyes off TVs projecting shit at restaurants, bars and such.

• It's really weird to be on a plane where all the window shades in the vicinity are down when a plane takes off.

And lastly,

• Some fuckin' jerks WILL NOT power down their electronics despite being repeatedly instructed to.

Tonight - THE El Rio.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

What's That?!?

6.3.2kXI

It's a "nuisance taco."
A what?
A "nuisance taco."
What. In the fuck. Is a "nuisance taco?"
It's just that. A "nuisance taco."
What are you talking about? What is a "nuisance taco?"
If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you. It's not my fault that you're ...
...
ignorant.

(Fisticuffs ensue)

Tonight - Sutter Station Tavern

C'mon down and wish AC a HBD!!


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

D and KG

6.2.2kXI

I was a wee robot when I was confronted with the perplexing "deep fried ice cream" by my dad. "Yeah, they serve it at Zanzibar," he said. I could NOT wrap my head around it. How in the hell could you deep fry ice cream? The blistering hot?? The creamy cold? Two great tastes that did not make a happy family.

Yeah, well, Old Man Daddy Robot didn't tell me that the ice cream was battered, rolled and flash fried. It MIGHT have made more sense.

Tonight - Burrrrr-lesque!! Little Minsky's. Club Deluxe.

$5 cover. Doors @ 9pm and show at 10pm. C'mon out and throw a few back with your favorite pastie adorned chassis!!


bye-ee!
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Douche Douchebag

6.1.2kXI

Boozy newsie!

The day I got laid off from (bound by a General Release not to mention the joint's name) I stopped at the Rite Aid® for a 30 pak of Miller Lite® like I often did. The problem was twofold: I stopped for 30 paks a bit too often, and I was about to find my trusty beer fridge pushin' up the daisies.

So I nixed the 30 paks and found that delicious 12 paks of Miller™ High Life® were on sale for $7.49. I got's room in the real fridge for 12 MHL! Woo!

Freedom!

Tonight - We Invade!!!

(More info here).




bye-ee!
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Hard Drive - FAIL

5.4.2kXI

Robot brain done crashed. Until it's repaired, see you at the bar.

Tonight - Homestead.

Radiumites... see you there!!!

bye-ee!
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Nobody's Fault but Mine

5.3.2kXI

Last week I had Google™ (well... Blogger™) to blame for the inability to post a VA. This week... it's all my fault.


Tonight: The House of Shields.

Drink like your grandfather used to!!

bye-ee!

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Lemon.... drop.

5.1.2kXI

What do you think about camping food? Do you settle for dogs and beans or do you make elaborate camping meals ahead of time for reheating outdoors like my mother used to make? I'd love to go fancy like that but more often I snag a mess of dogs and brats, buns, beans and corn. 'course ya got bacon and eggs in the morning but dinner is cooked over flamin' logs.

I was campin' years ago when I was in college. A few us fucked off down Southern Illinois town called Carbondale. Home of Southern Illinois University and Marion Fed. Pen. Got Gotti? Marion does. Had Gacy. He dead now. Anyway, Carbondale is a wonderful place to camp. Took a newbie camper with us (or he took us as he had the wheels) and boy was he un-fun. Fucking complained about the cold, the scary night noises, the rocks we threw at him and on and on. One night we were roasting some smoky links squewered on sticks over the fire when this fuckwit allowed his link to fall off stick and into fire. He quickly snatched it out only to make like he was going to heave it into the brush. Another pal stopped his hand, "What do you think yr doing," he asked. "It fell. It's got ashes all over it," he replied. I said, "then what are you going to eat, dummy? That's all you get. Wipe off the ashes and cover with mustard. It will be fine." He resisted, but realized it WAS his only dinner and complied. No big deal: I've eaten floor food many times.

So fast fwd to about a week ago when I'm on the patio of this bar w/ this babe enjoying some afternoon sun and an icy-cold adult beverage. The barkeep and some of his helpful pals were BBQing burgers and dogs for the patrons. Real nice. Then barkeep whips a pan of marinating chicken breasts to the grill's work area, only to place it badly and have it D R O P it on the pavement. Marinade, chicken breasts and pan. Barkeep's pals howled with laughter while barkeep visibly held back a full-on rage. Thinking quickly I yelled, "FIVE SECOND RULE!!" and barkeep's pals laughed a confirmation. Barkeep winked at me and picked the chicken off the pavement, paper-towelled off the 'bits' and threw 'em where jebus intended marinated chicken breasts to be: On the grill.

We don't eat at that bar.

In keeping w/ the Linkey-Loo theme, we give you tonight's venue of choice:

Zeitgeist

Where you get all the Margarita goodness with only 1/4 of the Messicans. (I kid... I kid....)
Come and check out the new "facelift". I haven't visited in person, but tonight will be the night.


Happy Cinco de Mayo!

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Bora Bora Bora

4.4.2kXI

At long last, I visited an allergist last week, partly because I was getting my butt kicked by the damn allergies for two weeks straight - day and night. The bigger part was because I did not know for how much longer I'd have health care, as my job was looking to be in peril. It was.

But the good news is that I saw the layoff coming and prepared for it. The better news is that I got a decent severance package and included within is continued health care through June. Yay: The allergy doc gets paid!

Getting back to the allergy doc, I got the weird, multi-puncture skin test many of you have likely heard of if not experienced for yourself. I thought it would be fun to say, "Ow, quit it," to the gal as she poked me, and she and the other office geek/med tech giggled like I was as funny. Anyway, they let me fester for a full 20 minutes and I gritted my teeth and bared a really itchy arm. Then they interpreted the results: Grass, rag weed, tree pollen, dust, desert pollen, dogs, smoke, mold, dust mites, Oprah, clay, the St.Louis Cardinals, and on and on.

I knew about most of them, so there weren't any real surprises.

Tonight - Homestead.


bye-ee!
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A lesson

4.3.2kXI

The following is boring: I got bit by a spider and it showed infection almost immediately: Little pink lines growing under my skin. I'd seen this before, so I knew I had to get me some meds. The little lines were growing so fast I knew I had to get meds fast, and as I was away on a micro-vacation, and as it was 7pm and all the Urgent Care facilities were closed, I had no choice but to visit the ER.

The ER took care of me in 3 hrs, 15 min. Pretty good. However, the $2086 they charged me for the procedure was deemed both "too expensive," and a "non-emergency use of an emergency room," so my insurance declined to cover it.

I called my health ins. admin and got the same gal I talk to every now and again. She didn't have to ask my ID number or anything, so she remembered me too. She explained to me that they weren't covering it because "they" don't want "us" going to the ER for non-ER issues. "Where will they have us go?" I asked. "To your doctor or to Urgent Care," she replied. I said, "But I was on vacation and it was in the evening and I got bit by something poisonious ... I had no choice." She said, "oooooooh ... that changed everything. I'll process the claim." "That's it?" I asked. "That's it," she said.

Sweet. A phone call and a cool insurance administrator saved me $2000. That's a lot of beer and LEGOS®!!!!

Tonight - Lone Palm. The only dive I know with crisp, white linen tablecloths.


bye-ee!
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In Memorium

4.2.2kXI

It's a sad time when such an industrious entertainment entrepreneur passes. Alas, that's what happened last month. The community lost Eddie Dane, co-founder of SF's Hubba Hubba Review.

Tonight a Burlesque memorial will take place at the DNA Lounge.

C'mon out and see some impassioned and hilarious Burlesque, in honor of a one-of-a-kind guy. Admissio is free, but a $5 donation won't be frowned upon.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Tonight!!

4.1.2kXI

April showers bring May flowers. But what do May flowers bring?

Dunno, but you should bring yourself out tonight to see the fabulous Mr. Lucky & the Cocktail Party (featuring Ralph Carney and Scott Johnson).

Tonight - Tosca.


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A Robot's Work is Never Done

3.5.2kXI

Ain't that the truth?!?

Tonight - Homestead.

Special "5th-Thursday-of-the-Month" Editio !!


bye-ee!
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Rev Ho

3.3.2kXI

We're runnin' into a problem at work with the milk supply. Seems we're only getting skim and half-n-half. There's a trick that I've found how to get "regular" milk - whole-ish - outta the goods on hand:

Mix the two. Start w/ some skim, then add half-n-half until the color ain't blue and see-through.

Good enough for cereal, yo.

Tonight - Orbit Room.


bye-ee!
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Just you wait!

3.2.2kXI

Hi pals! Are you enjoying the weather? I'm in that not-so-enviable mode of working six out of seven days in the week - each one while at work being in the high 70s and sunny - and the one when I'm not at work (read: in my back yard) is cloudy, windy and too cool for a Tshirt. Poor me!

Tonight - Club Deluxe.


bye-ee!
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BAVC2

3.1.2kXI

Here's an old press release from PG&E:

December 8, 1998

At approximately 8:15 a.m. today, a major outage originated at PG&E’s San Mateo Substation. The outage affected approximately 375,000 customers from San Mateo north to, and including parts of, San Francisco.

The cause of the outage was simple human error, which then triggered a complex sequence of events.

The Mayor’s office of San Francisco and the various department heads for the City have provided both guidance and assistance in ensuring San Francisco residents and businesses come back on line as fast as possible. With the full cooperation of the City, we have been able to restore power safely, effectively and quickly.

Full restoration of power to affected customers was completed this afternoon by 2:15 p.m.

TNSC Robot and Linkey Loo Robot both remember this very well. We remember it because the whole "no power" thing meant only one thing to us: COFFEE CRISIS.

The barnyard where we worked had fairly decent coffee but was brewed in an electric coffee system, and thus offline. The coffee kart down in the lobby suffered the same setback. Sure you could get bagels and OJ, but lattes, cappys and regular cups of joe were unavailable. Linkey Loo Robot, assessing the situ in his caffeine-deprived mode, as it was, came up with a wicked solution: Gas! "Gas?" I asked. "Yes! Gas!" he said. "A gas stove can boil water and I know where there's a gas stove closeby!" "Brilliant!" I yelled and we ran for his car.

After a quick push-start, we bolted for the place with a gas stove ... hoping that his hunch was true and that SLOW CLUB would be the coffee oasis he imagined. And luck was with us, as were all the street lights (because they were out), and when we made the turn off Potrero onto Mariposa Street, we saw a short line at the door to Slow Club. That could mean but one thing: Coffee.

And coffee it was. Hot, bitter, delicious, life-sustaining coffee. The staff at Slow Club were being very fair and not gouging us with disaster-inflated prices, and they did us ALL a service by limiting each customer to two large cups. LL Robot and I got two each and shared with our unfortunate brothers back at the hog farm where we worked.

The day was salvaged by LL Robot's quick thinking and Slow Club's Wolf range. Hoo-ray.


This look back is brought to you by tonight's venue: - Lucky 13. The SF one... NOT the Alameda one.



bye-ee!

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7th from the sun

2.4.2kXI

As I said in last week's Venue Announcement, this is one of those weird periods in LA's live music scene where it seems every band I like is coming to town. Last night I saw Yo La Tengo and my god was it great. It was rife with the up-and-down (fast-and-slow) songs that characterize YLT's music, but boasted a sweet gimmick: The Wheel. The wheel was a "Wheel-of-Fortune"-style wheel that had neat categories like "Songs that start w/ S," "Condo Fuckers" (Their alter-ego band's name) and such. They would spin the wheel and play what came up. The thing that we got was "Sit Com Theater." It was what it sounds like: A dramatic reading of a sitcom episode. They performed a SpongeBob™ ep. It was fun. The fickle LA crowd got restless as it went on. And on. Ira, of YLT, thanked the crowd for not booing when they were finished.

I'm reporting about the show because I've noticed that LA crowds seem too "cool" to really get into a live show. Except for an occasional mosh pit (like at Helmet), there's some mild head-bobbing, but that's about it. It's lame.

Even when sets a theremin on fire and follows up w/ a Tesla Coil, nothin'. Boo.

Tonight - Homestead.


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Your Weight on the Moon

2.3.2kXI

This is one of those periods in LA when every great band in the world is coming to town for a show: Gang of Four, Man ... Or Astroman?, Swans, Meat Beat Manifesto, etc., etc., etc.!

I have to pick shows to attend carefully, because my little wife doesn't really care to get stuck at home solo with The PM very much. Not that she's not up to the task, but mainly because she takes a lot of work home and has to get it done late-night. Poor little thing.

One observation about live rock shows in LA is they're often on "school nights." I truly think this phenom is not happenstance: I think they play LA on week nights and Sundays because there are a LOT of rock fans in LA and they'll turn out for shows anytime. They play Friday and Saturday nights in "other" cities. I ain't braggin'. I'm just observing.

Anyway, Sunday night brings the aforementioned Man ... Or Astroman? to LA. But for their performance at Touch And Go!'s anniversary party in 2001, they've been ... uh ... "off planet" or some such. What might be the last time I saw them was at the venerable Bottom of the Hill tavern in 1998 in SF when Spark, my sister and I witnessed Clone Tour Alpha and were pelted w/ Hostess® and Little Debbie® snacks from some rebellious Clones. Good fun!

Good fortune has my sister in tow w/ me to the show (she's driving) this Sunday. Can't wait! (Then Yo La Tengo on Wednesday!)

Tonight - The Argus.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Al Lee

2.2.2kXI

No shit! 100% Real reader mail! Read on:

Dear robot,
You're (sic) post about getting a urinal installed in you're (sic) bathroom reminded me of a 100% true story Read on:

I went away to see an old friend of mine. We were pals when we were young and he was the biggest partier i'd ever known. He could drink a vat of beer and not puke. He was really fun and funny. Then we went to different elementary schools (ha ha just kidding COLLEGES) and lost touch because this was before facebook. I guess he had some trouble with the drinking because he lost his job and dog and such and had rehab a couple times. He was a professional bar fly. He said he liked the really seedy ones. Anyway he got older and got sober. With the older came some health problems - he had trouble peeing. I don't know what his deal was but he said he had to stand there with the feeling of "pee shame" but with no shame. It just took forever to come out. I told him that sucked and he said it was ok because he solved his problem when he won the lotto. He bought a big ol' house and threw a big ol' party at the Country Club he bought himself into. Well at the party the shitter broke and he had to relieve himself out doors. Standing next to the dumpster in the back -- the pee started flowin' like Niagra (sic) falls. He had some sike (sic) classes in college and he figured he could pee on the dumpster because it was like old times. So he had his bathroom expanded to a huge size, put a drain in the floor and installed a fucking DUMPSTER in it to pee on. I saw it. It's really there.


Tonight - 500 Club.

Has to be real, right? I don't fuckin' misspell "your, psych and shit like that."

bye-ee!
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The Extra "E" II

2.1.MMXI

Years ago I attended grade school in Pittsburgh Go Steelers, PA. The school had been there one million years and attending it I was instilled with a respect for full-length urinals, as each boy's restroom was outfitted with a half-mile of them. They towered over me. I could bathe in one if it was on its side. All that porcelain - that alabaster-white, gleaming, acreage of porcelain - was something to behold.

Since then (the 70s), them full-length pissers are found less and less frequently. It's sad, because it was always - I mean ALWAYS - fun to pretend to pee on the floor.

I told my wife - before we got married - that if we ever owned a house that I wanted to get a full-length urinal installed in the WC. She can't relate so she said what the hell.

I'm tired of waiting. I want a full-length urinal.

Tonight - Aub Zam Zam!


bye-ee!
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CHiPs

1.4.2kXI

I really hate the fact that I don't have a lot of stupid stories to relate to you all week after week. One might think that LA would offer a plethora of ridiculous anecdotes, but as I'm living and working on the westside and hardly ever straying from it, I'm afraid it's usually AC posting "vintage" Venue Announcements. Whatever ... some of them (the ones he reposts) were kinda funny.

So to give you a fresh one, here goes: I was biking home as usual, when a little pickup pulled out well in front of me, but not too far to not read the license plate: "CHI DOG" I thought, cool! I LOVE Chicago-style hotdogs. Dude must too, or he'd not pony up for the custom tags.

Seems he either didn't know his way around the neighborhood too well or was the only motherfucker in LA who wasn't in a hurry because I caught up with him. I yelled, "Is CHI DOG about Chicago-style hotdogs?" He said, "No ... it's 'Chi,'" (he pronounced it "chee") "Chinese mystical energy," or some such shit. I should have known. "Oh," I said, "I guess that will do too," and wheeled off, mystically shaking my head.

Tonight - Homestead.


bye-ee!
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6 Years Ago Today

Penny-stealing ... criminal ... man.
1.3.2k11

A Christmas tradition that had taken a backseat to getting smashed on NOG for me was enjoying the Christmas Stocking. My Ma was a champion at stuffing the thing with really great stuff back when I was a wee little Robot. And I ain't talkin' about "fillers" like oranges and such. Everything was precious and well thought out.

This past Xmas the small circle of Fam and Friends and I resurrected the tradition in Grand Style! We went as far as decorating our own homemade stockings (the 'blanks' deftly crafted by a crafty Delp) by cutting up bits of felt and glueing them on. This Robot, looking for inspiration thought of the things he liked most ... and came up w/ Nachos and Margaritas! Both rendered in felt quite well, if I do say so myownself.

So on Xmas morning I dissassemble the bloated stocking and much to my delight I find little booze bottles and cigarettes, a false moustache (and spirit gum), some lottery tickets, a Daily Racing Form, a bottle of dishwashing liquid, a pad of Post-Its and a small round pin - some folks call them buttons - that said in a crazy typeface: COFFEE SLUT.

I affixed the COFFEE SLUT button to my fleecy, warm sweatshirt and proudly wore it, as I am, indeed, a COFFEE SLUT. There the button remains and whenever I don the fleecy, warm sweatshirt I remember the joy of the Xmas stocking.

FAST FORWARD to last Saturday when the grrrrrrrl and I are on our way to a weekend in Yosemite and we stop in a grocery store. I'm again wearing the fleecy, warm sweatshirt and it indeed still has the COFFEE SLUT button on it but I don't really see it anymore because it's always there. All at once, in line to check out, I see the COFFEE SLUT button and laugh quietly to myself. Then the nice lady starts ringing up the beer, beef jerky, dry-roasted peanuts and, without looking up, says, "So ... you're a COFFEE SLUT." I said, "heh, okay." She said, "Your button. It says COFFEE SLUT." I looked down at the button and said, "Oh! That’s, uh, that’s uh, my piece of flair. I'm, you know, required to wear a certain amount of flair. ... uh ... I didn’t actually choose this. I, uh, I just grabbed a button and, uh, I don’t even know what it says! Y’know, I don’t really care. I don’t really like talking about my flair."

The nice lady looked me with sad eyes and said, "okay, fine. Sorry." I paid and left.

Tonight - The Minx. (the website splashpage is outdated. The taxidermy is not.)

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

Oh hell

1.2.2k11

Where'd the year go? Where'd the day go? Dago?

Tonight - Doc's Clock.

One of my favorites.

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

1.1.2kXI

Work woes got me a little slow out the gate w/ the 1st post of 2011. I promise they'll ramp up.

Meanwhile enjoy our fabulous evening's destinatio !!!

Tonight - House of Shields

Did you know it was a private men’s drinking club until 1972? Read on!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!