Domed (REDUX)

12.3.2019  (first posted this week 2007)


I recently made an iTunes playlist of a bunch of mp3s I got while working at a weird-but-cool place in SF (Stillman might remember the joint) and I gotta tell you ... I'm liking it more than my iTunes library.

It's got Thai pop from the 70s, Blacksploitation anthems, high school bands, Star Trek sound effects, Carl Stalling, a witch casting spells, Detroit funk, The Stooges, The Residents, Stereolab, Nurse With Wound, Underworld, Quintron, Flossie and the Unicorns and a million other things, many artists having been around for years but are totally new to me.

Viva Crazy mp3!  

Tonight - Homestead
(last official meeting of the decade)

Homestead for the Holidays. Happy Winter Holiday Season to you all, yo.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

"In?" (REDUX)

12.2.2019  (first posted this week 2000)


I'm wonderin' if my best friend can kick my other best friend's ass. Let's say that one of my best friend's name is Phil and the other's name is ... uh ... Phil too. Okay. Phil is pretty tall and, I dunno, works out a lot I guess. I don't know if he does for sure but it sorta seems like it. Big dude. So Phil's a pretty tall, big guy, and he could probably kick some ass. Makes sense. He's mostly non-violent though. He'll fight to protect himself or his girlfriend. Or his other friends. Or somebody who's getting their asses kicked unfairly, probably. You know, jump in if the fight's unfair. That's an important factor in being one of my best friends: Not being a hothead, but being just. Back to the question! Can Phil kick Phil's ass? One Phil is big, strong and nonviolent. The other Phil ... wouldn't balk at a fight, but he ain't that big. He wouldn't start it, necessarily, but he'd fight. I picture the Phil/Phil fight being like, Phil not starting the fight and the other Phil not jumping in the nonfight. They'd sit around and talk and laugh and drink beer. Kinda like they do already. The whole concept reminds me of the old "Who-would-win-in-a-fight-between-a-velociraptor-and-a-ninja" dealio. That one's still up in the air. Sit around, talk and drink beer here tonight:

Hyde Out
(*CASH ONLY* - Special guests)

Brother Jer is bar-tendin.' Guess what? Allison is back on the list as herownself. Nicole is new to the list. As is Abigail. Welcome. (nameless) S. Miller alt. email address. A "Get Well Soon" goes out to Kevin. We're raising glasses to yer speedy recovery! Not much more news.

TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Make-out Contest.

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: The opening of the first indoor ice rink. The year, 1912. The day, Christmas Day. The city, Victoria, B.C. Two brothers, Lester and Joe Patrick, opened the world's first indoor ice rink. The dang thing cost $110,000 (Canadian) and seated 4000 people. Under the ice was the world's largest refrigeration and ice-making equipment. A mere three days later, the brothers opened the world's second indoor ice rink in Vancouver. This one was bigger than the first, as it could hold more than 10,000 people. As one might guess, it's ice-making gear became the world's largest. These fellas didn't rest easy: Over the next few decades, they opened indoor rinks all throughout Western Canada and the Northwestern U.S. Players: Spaz and his brother Rob are Lester and Joe. Matt and the other Matt are the rink and ice-maker in Victoria; John and the other John are the rink and ice-maker in Vancouver. Whoever can skate play skaters. Whoever can't play the audience. I need a volunteer to play the Zamboni and the Zamboni operator.

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Woody. He used to bother Coach Bjeldanes a lot but does not so much anymore. Good for him! Good for her! God bless us, everyone!

When yer readin' something on a website or email that's misspelled, do you think the writer can't spell or can't type?

See you suckers tonight. Bring somebody worth makin'-out with and win the contest. I know I will. (!) ... er ... what I mean is ... I'll see you suckers there! bye-ee!



whrr ... clik!

A lotta talk. (REDUX)

12.1.2019  (first posted this week 2006)

Just when it seems like everyone in the world has either a bluetooth headset (making 'm look like a total idiot) or any variety iPod or some kinda gps-based navigation in their dashboard we get a reality check. One guy needed some gizmos like a satellite phone or gps or a map (and the know-how to read a map). He especially needed a survival kit but didn't have one and unfortunately and tragically died after being snowbound with his family. He tried to find help and got lost. So sad. It makes me think of the survial kit I mentioned a few months back. That kit got so much ridicule I chucked it for a better model of survival kit. By model I mean "bottle" and by survival kit I mean "vodka."  

Tonight - Lone Palm 
(perfect place for a drizzly Thursday)

Acknowledgements to Miss Brooke Williams.

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

>>>>>>>>>> (REDUX)

11.3.2019  (first posted this week 2001)

>>>>>>>>>> Or rather, the CAT ate my Venue Announcement!
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

>>>>>>>>>>>>>> Go to The Homestead
>>>>>>>>> Note: No meeting next week. (Happy Thanksgiving)
>>>>>>>>>
>
>
>
> See you there! bye-ee!

>
>
>

Butch (REDUX)

11.2.2019   (first posted this week 2001)

You likea the Lipton Cold Brew Iced Tea drink? I'm not bein’ paid for endorsing that product, but I think it’s all right. Throw in a slicey of lemon and it tastes just like weak-ass tea with lemon. Good enough for dopey freelance Robots.

Yeh, so, I had a dream the other night that I was an ace car mechanic. I could tear ‘em down and build ‘em back up faster than anyone in the Tri-state area. I’d build ‘em to be slick and quick and tear-ass. They’d fly off the line and blow the doors off anything they raced. Legal race or not. I woke up and thought of how far off the dream was.
I know nothin’ about cars. Well, very little at most. The obvious stuff, sure. How to flick on the wipers, how to check the oil, how to do donuts. Peel outs. Lawn jobs. What have you. I know so little about cars that when the horn on the family station wag I was driving to and from school some fifty years back went shit-crazy nuts I had no idea how to disable it.
I was on a camping trip up in the mountains when it first started to go South. I was high-tailing it back to town in the cold, cold morning air when the horn started to go off whenever I’d turn the wheel past 10 or 2 o’clock. This was often, mind you, coming down the twisty mountain road. The horn gave a mighty bellow too. Must have woke up lots of campers and mountain critters on that drive. But the day warmed up and the horn stopped its monkey-business. However, a couple days later the goddamn thing went ballistic again. By now I was back home in the city. This time the thing went off when I turned the engine over – didn’t need to turn the wheel or anything. I popped the hood and stood there like a dope looking at a big V8. Hoses, tubes, belts, wires … uh … there’s that’s that ya put the jumper cables on … I was at a loss. And god it was loud. It’s going to town for a good five minutes and I’m standing there going deaf when this little old nonagenarian blue-haired widow comes walking from three doors down and stops right next to me. She stands there for a moment and stares at me going deaf and staring at the engine, then gives me a look that says, “pathetic.” She reaches somewhere into the engineering marvel that is the engine of the 1985 Olds Custom Cruiser and yanks! The din stops except for the ringing in my ears. Gladys turns on her heel and goes on home without even a word. I know less now about cars than I did then.

Tonight: Old Ship Saloon  (oldest bar in SF - circa 1851)

It's TNSC Founding Member John Metsker's Birthday!! Come on out and share some cheer!

News: I don't know about you folks, but I'm feeling pretty good about things. Some stuff is still terrible, sure, but things within

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Your parents dancing to crappy music. You know who you are. Your parents liked some really terrible music and when they were young they danced to it. It's bad enough to knock you down today. (nameless) will be dancing to her folks' bad music, Tama will be dancing to her folks' bad music, as will Jerry, Dee and Ced. It'll be a hoot.

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Long Time List Members in attendance after a long drought.

PORN TITLE OF THE WEEK: Terms of Endowment

The Founding Members hope you are all in the mood for a dive-bar, because it's the divey-est. Just remember, drink from the bottle and don't touch anything. Who's in? I know I am. See you there. bye-ee!

SAILA (REDUX)

11.1.2019  (first posted this week 2001)

Yeah I guess I’m sorta sick to death of them email surveys or questionnaires or whatever you call ‘em. Those unsolicited, invasive two-dozen questions that reveal the number eleven is behind every single bad thing that ever happened in the history of the universe. The 20 poignant queries that determine without a doubt that you are (or are not): A racist, a Commie, in love with yer ma, going to die within five years, too stupid to graduate from grammar school or if you are better suited as a career horticulturist.
I delete most of these emails unread, but sometimes I read ‘em through if they come from a creditable source (e.g., brother, girlfriend, etc.). I got one the other day and one of the questions was “Person least likely to respond to this email.” Their answer was “Josh.” Heh heh. The long string of bullshit questions reminded me of something that happened a long, long time ago.
A pal and I were driving around really late one Saturday night. The kegger we were at ran out of beer, or we were on a smoke run or something. The point here is that it was late and we were driving around. We happened down one street and were surprised to see lights on in a strip mall storefront. (The town I grew up in went to bed at 8pm every night. Even Saturday.) My friend and I (it wasn’t Phil) looked at each other and laughed because it seemed the scientologists were the only ones up this late aside from us. Not-Phil said, “Let’s go see if we can bum some smokes from the scientologists.” What the hell, I thought. I said, “What the hell.” So we parked and went in.
Three or four rather normal “looking” folks were sitting around chatting and not looking the least bit sleepy. “Oh, no. We don’t have any cigarettes, boys,” they said, “but we do have coffee. Would you like a cup?” I’ve loved coffee for a long time, even way back then, so I said, “Hell yeah, I’ll have some coffee.” The coffee sucked. I mean it was terrible. But I wasn’t expecting much. They asked us what we were doing up so late and we told them we were on a smoke run. I asked them what they were doing up so late, and they said they were reading over the new “questionnaires” that just got back from the printers. “Would you like to fill one out,” one of them asked. “Sure,” I said, thinking that it would be a gag: “Are you a scientologist, Y/N. Wanna be a scientologist, Y/N. How much money do you make, wink-wink, $ _____.” I would answer, “No, No, Nothin’,” and laugh. Well here we were being handed this booklet with more questions than the SAT verbal and math combined. Oh! And how queer some of them were: “Do you ever read the phone book?” (A: Yes.) “Do your neighbors talk to you about your yard?” (A: What?) “Have you ever stood on the top step of the ladder, even though it says not to?” (A: What the hell does this have to do with anything?) It was 25 minutes into the bullshit questions and the suck-ass coffee had gone right through me. I had to pee like a racehorse. So I didn’t even read most of the last questions, but I sorta mumbled interest and checked off Y, N, N, Y, N, Y, Y, Y, N, N, blah, blah, blah.
I jumped up and said, “All done, fellas, c’mon, Not-Phil, let’s beat it. S’gettin’ late.” I think he had the same idea as me because he was faking the last couple answers himself. The scientologists said they would calculate our answers and the scores would determine how much training we would need or some such nonsense. When asked for my address, I put down the address of the Catholic high school I was attending and as Not-Phil and I had been using fake names, I used that name on the “Attention to” line. This was funny because my fake name was a real person at my school who I didn’t care for and would most likely be asked by a priest why he was getting personal mail AT SCHOOL and more importantly why he was getting it FROM THE SCIENTOLOGISTS. Hardy har.

Tonight - Elixir Saloon. (since 1858)

News: Well the redesign of the site is underway. Soon there will be all sorts of interesting and fun things, but the design has been revealed. Founding Member and Linkey-Loo Coordinator Alan J. Chimenti reported that he had come to despise the Spartan layout. The aforementioned Founding Member and Linkey-Loo Coordinator Alan J. Chimenti is on a work-related hiatus from coordinating the weekly Linkey-Loo, so Longtime List Member and Porn Title of the Week Coordinator Tama is filling in.

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: The origin of the Hokey Pokey. While most people are familiar with the beloved song/dance, the Hokey Pokey, many do not know that the composer labored intensely to find the perfect body parts to put in, out, in, out and then shake all about. Tonight our players will demonstrate some of the tried and failed alternate body parts. Don’t miss this one. Really.

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Any list member who was laid off this week.

PORN TITLE OF THE WEEK: Nymphomercial

SATANIC WORD OF THE WEEK: had

Okey then. Here's the non-Spartan layout. Hope you like it. Or not. I sorta don't care either way. It was fun. Anyhoo ... Get your asses in gear and head on over to POW! for a pop. Bring your friends. I'm sure I will. See you there!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Bambi

10.5.2019

I went to BevMo today for some Blue Curacao, rum and Grenadine for a Halloween grog I'm making m (add cranberry juice and ice for a fun, purple wingding).  

Out of my car and through the car park, I noticed a lurker in the corner of the lot.  

I went in, got my stuff (+ a bottle of Rose's Lime® for gimlets a la my hero, Raymond Chandler (his downfall)), and exiting and going again through lot, I saw the lurker in the corner stand and vector toward me.

Sure enough, I got to my car and he said, "hey brother, can you help me?"

I said I don't keep any cash on me anymore.

He asked if I had any food.  No, only Rose's Lime® and some other shit.  Then I remembered ... jerky.

I said, "Waitaminute!

I do have jerky," and dug into the space between the frame of the car and the driver's seat and pulled out a stick of jerky.  I held it out to him.

"It's venison jerky."

"What's that."

"Deer.  uh, Bambi."

"Whoa.  Never had Bambi.  Well deer anyway, ya know?  hah," he said.

"Well, enjoy," I said, but he was already gone.

Tonight - **Due to an obscure TNSC by-law regarding a 5th Thursday in October falling on Halloween, this week's meeting has been cancelled.  Also, have you ever tried drinking at a bar dressed as The Mummy?  It just doesn't work.  Be safe out there, and see you next week! 


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Inevitability (REDUX)

10.4.2019  (fist posted this week 2000)

I got an email from some telemarketing executive or some kinda crap like that and she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. She said that her company would pay for a big event (read: free booze) once a month for a year if I would include in these TNSC emails a fair amount of advertising. Being familiar with "big events" I wanted to know some details. You know: How long is the booze free, is top-shelf liquor included (some list members enjoy Bombay Sapphire and such), which venues were available, what about snacks, etc. I've been to so-called open bars where the free booze came in plastic bottles or was limited to Zima or some crap like Sierra Nevada and I won't sit still for that. She answered these Q's pretty satisfactorily: Open bar from 6p to midnight, top shelf booze, venues anywhere in the city, and as far as snacks, she would send over that nice tamale lady. Bein' that I like them tamales, that was good enough for me. So yeah, I sold out the list. But you have to know, I did it for you. All of you. Every last lovely one of you. Listen, you may be peeved now, but when Sue Erokan is enjoying a FREE Maker's Manhattan or Amy Shuba is sipping a NO CHARGE Herradurra Margarita or Metsker DOESN'T PAY for his fill of frosty Beck's, this Founding Member thinks they'll forget about the annoying banner ads. Oh yeah, that telemark-whatsit lady needs all your home addresses, telephone numbers, email addresses, birthdates, and other such demographic info. Jot it down on a 3x5 card and bring it to the meeting tonight.

Here:  Eagle's Drift In (South of Market) [oops, that was 2000]

Actually, here:  Zeitgeist (South of Market) **CASH ONLY**

Ya. How 'bout that? We're stayin' South of Market because it's raining and there's parking around the Drift In Zeitgeist. It was supposed to be Founder's Day and we were going to go to Orbit but Founding Member Alan Chimenti had a date with Jon Bon Jovi hisownself down in LA and had to cancel. Guess where we're goin' next week if AC can keep his paws off Jovi? Here's the news: David is new to the list. Hi David. Don't remember if I needed to add anyone else. Oh yeah, Clova is new. Allison new address. At least one person ain't getting the email anymore.

TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Staring contest.

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: The final performance of the Sex Pistols. Hot on the heels of a secert UK tour (They were banned all across the country), the Pistols played eight shows here in the U.S., the last being in SF at a joint called the Winterland. Animosity, disappointment and frustrations came to a head that night in January 1978. At the end of the show, Johnny Rotten said, "Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?" a now infamous remark which sparked his departure from the band the next day. Players tonight: Belinda plays Rotten; Kevin plays Sid Vicious; Dee plays guitarist Steve Jones; Paul Cook, the drummer, is portrayed by Robin; and Malcolm McLaren, the band's producer, is played by Sue. 

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Coach Bjeldanes. She is so sick and yet she has vowed to go out and drink a lot of whiskey tonight. What a trooper!

Lost and found notice: FOUND! One rollerskate key. Says "Chicago" on it. This wrench is used to adjust the truck locknut and also has a flat screwdriver end to adjust some kingpins. Found it by the "Shadow" pinball table at last week's meeting venue.

What the heck are ya doin' tonight? Why goin' t'the Thursday Night Social Club meeting, that's what! Yes ma'am and sir, throw yer best ma'ams and sirs into that SF city cab and git over to the bar. I'll see you there! bye-ee!



bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Shakeytown!!

10.3.2019

That's what the Chief Robot's dad used to call San Francisco, and for the longest time the closest he'd make it to our fair city was a Baccarat table somewhere in Lake Tahoe.

"Shakeytown" for sure.  30 years ago today a pretty significant earthquake devastated the Bay Area.  I remember it well as I was 6 months into my first staff job, and our building (Folger Building at 101 Howard Street - built I 1903 - "if it withstood one shaker, it should withstand another") had the facade come away from the building, and we had to close operations and figure our next move.  I figured I'd be out looking for work.  Luckily, I was kept on during the nearly year long transition to a new location, and thankfully stayed employed there for an additional 12 years - years during which the Thursday Night Social Club formed at that very same company.

To celebrate the 30th Anniversary of the Loma Prieta Earthquake (translatio : "Brown Knoll"), join us for shaken cocktails at:

Latin American Club         (** CASH ONLY**)

Those of us who were here back then can trade stories.  Those who weren't can listen, and learn - and buy us cocktails for surviving the ordeal.  :)


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

28 1/2

10.2.2019  (first posted this week 2002)


Make due with what you have.
You have a destinati n.

Tonight - Hi Dive

That's right!  A TNSC traditio !!  That can only mean it's Fleet Week here in the city.  Come on down and see Sea Men (and Women) all over the Embarcadero - not to mention your tax dollars at work. Check out the view of the Blackhawk!!


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

For Neal Barrett, Jr. (REDUX)

10.1.2017  (first posted this week 2000)

I was askin' Founding Member Mr. Alan Chimenti if he thought that the "cops and donuts" joke was so old it was actually over. He figures no. That sucker will be funny for many, many years to come. "Probably as long as the gum in your gumball machine is gonna last, mebbe longer," he says. I didn't exactly get his point: "Whaddya mean? You mean nobody's gonna eat all that gum, or you think that if no one eats it, it'll still be somewhat edible for a long, long time?" He mumbled something I didn't catch. "Huh?" I said, "What's that?" He mumbles something else. I'd about had it. "Don't go mumbling about the gum, A.C., I ain't gonna stand for you mumbling about the gum." He then tries to change the subject on me. "I bet your brother's glad all that gum's not in yer apartment anymore." I don't know about that. "I don't know nothin' about that, dude." I said, "Now what was it you were mumbling about a minute ago? And don't go and change the subject again. I won't sit still for that." He says, "I was wonderin' kinda out loud, you know, about how much dough you're pullin' in with that coin-op gumball machine." This surprised me. "Huh? How much money? What the heck ya mean?" "You had that sign on it a week ago, 'Quarters Only,' and that crappy drawing of a quarter. A quarter for one tiny gumball? You must be making bank." I didn't like the way this was heading. "I didn't even put that sign on it. I didn't draw that crude quarter. I would think I could draw a quarter better than that. What's more, what's more is that most of the money in that dang thing is mine. I have a mess of change right here that people can help themselves to." I pointed out the stack of change. "I just want to get rid of the frikkin' gum before it gets too stale." "Huh," he says, unimpressed. "No 'huh' about it, A.C., that's the truth there." "Okay then, if that's the way it is," he says. "Truth, man, I'm tellin' ya." I said. Then I told him that he had to wait for his email, just like everyone else, to learn the destination for tonight's meeting.

Tonight - Doc's Clock  (CASH ONLY)

Yeah, we went there a few months back, but the place is cool, the juke rocks (TWO Jesus Lizard CD's) and some very cool things happened that night. And they have Miller High Life.

Anyone new to the list? Oh yeah, there's Lisa Whall and Kelly Dragoo. Welcome. Tara coughs up an alternate email address. The "No-one-gets-booted-off-the-list" policy is still in effect.

Tonight's Contest: Pinball tournament. Quarterfinals. See John Metsker for odds if yer wagering.

Tonight's Dramatic Reenactment: The day of the highest recorded temperature in King Salmon, Alaska in July. On July 15, 1975, the town of King Salmon, Alaska enjoyed an 86 degree day. The town's denizens responded by wearing t-shirts and shorts, barbecuing and picnicking in the town's park. No one complained about the summer-like temperatures. Nobody pined for the snow and fog and wind and rain to return. These were smart customers! Playing the smart customers: Bobo plays the Mayor of King Salmon; Amy Shuba plays summer; Rob Williams plays the thermometer that displayed 86 degrees; I play a 22 1/2" red Weber kettle grill; Heavy plays a frisbee; Mary Haring plays corn-on-the-cob; Jerry Castro and Jim Rose play drinking beer and staying out late; a bunch of list members who never come to the meetings play snow and fog and wind and rain, which were not there and NOT missed!

Tonight's Singled-Out List Member: Jeremy Johnson. My brother gets singled-out because it's his last TNSC meeting. He's high-tailing it outta town. Come and say "bye-ee."

The little bugs and assorted bacteria have built up a pretty solid resistance to the hand sanitizing gel we've been using. But ... Uriah and I have figured out that if you augment the stuff with gasoline and linseed oil all you gotta do is ignite it and them buggies are fried crispy. Resist that!

Get yer butts to the airborne pachyderm and help drink the beer. We get free popcorn if we finish the Miller. Bring yer friends, dang it. See you there.


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Shut My Mouth! (REDUX)

9.4.2019  (first posted this week 2000)

Now believe it or not, and I've been known to lie, but this here's a true story.

Back in the Age of Sail, the days of the tall ships - the Man o'War, the galleon, the schooner - sailors relied on cats to do some of their dirtiest work. Hoards of rats and mice would tightrope-walk the mooring lines along the docks, eager to feast on the stores of grain and other food in the holds of the ships. Cats were very effective exterminators. They would rid the ship of vermin. In port or on the high seas, they followed the predatory role nature designed for them. Following the reverence the Ancient Egyptians had for cats, sailors treated their cats very well and held them in high regard. Seafaring cats played a lesser-known role, too: they would hear the confessions of the condemned man. Many of the ships had neither the room or supplies for a priest, cleric, monk or other such holy man who could not or would not pull his own weight. A religious lot, sailors doomed to walk the plank, hang from the yard-arm or be keel-hauled were desperate for an ear to hear their reconciliation. As it was bad luck for a layman to do such, the next obvious choice were the ship's cats. They could appear to be attentive listeners and trusted to never reveal what they've heard. It was not uncommon for the prisoner, in his last hours, to share the brig with as many as 50 cats.

For this week's meeting I'll be drowning my blues with the black cats at:

The Homestead

There ain't nobody new to the list. No one got booted, as per the new nobody-gets-booted dealio. A lot of complaints about the web-based TNSC meeting announcement. Overheard: "Poor user interface," "unintuitive," "confusing." Okey then. You can have your precious underlined links. More comments being accepted here.

Tonight's Contest: Piping-hot-coffee chug-a-lug. ow.

Tonight's Dramatic Reenactment: The "Death" of Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi.

In an attempt to allow a small band of rebels - including a princess, a pirate, a couple of gay robots and a bumpkin - to escape the ominous space station known as the "Death Star," an aged warrior selflessly sacrifices his corporeal body to his nemesis, the sinister "Darth Vader." It turns out, though, that the villain's "light saber" renders "Obi-Wan" more powerful than the evil one knows. Our players: Serena Warner plays "Obi-Wan," Uriah plays "Darth Vader," Lee Lee the Musical Bee plays the pirate, Teensy plays the princess, Rob Bonstin plays one of the gay robots, Jimi Simmons plays the other, April plays the bumpkin and Mrs. Alan Chimenti plays the role of the "Death Star." Clint plays some dude named George.

Tonight's Singled-Out List Member: Me. I single myself out because I've been bad. I have the headache to prove it. Spell check just caught me spelling "prove" with two o's. Yeouch.

Bring yer cats. Bring yer friends' cats. See you there. bye-ee!

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

The Twisted Spoke (REDUX)

9.3.2019 (first posted this week 2004)

Next time you need to get fixin's for Bloody Marys you get yr asses to - of all places inna world - Cost Plus. Seems like you might start at BevMo or the corner liquor store or the Safetyway or the Albertsons, Giant Eagle, Basha's, Dominick's, Jewel, Kroger or Piggly Wiggly, but I happened upon the Cost Plus on the way to BevMo for Bloody fixin's and the Bloody's that were the result of the trip to these markets were SO GODDAMN KICKASS they made me want to slap my pappy. Here's why: 

Cost Plus, as you might know, has a world-class selection of junky, stinky wicker furniture from some exotic (Mexico) locale. They also got horsehair pillows, teak coffee tables, fans made from shellacked palm fronds and crazy European cookware. And if you were ever a kid, you might remember that they have a shitload of foreign chocolates. Well dip me in shit because they have all sortsa other foreign foodstuffs like mustard and wine. And for the Bloody Mary drinker there's a million jars of pickled this and preserved that! Beans, onions, wee-baby pickles. Garlic, hot pepper and bleu cheese stuffed olives. I tell ya ... take a skewer, impale one them garlic olives, a cocktail onion, a pepperoncini, a mini pickle and some kinda marinated cherry tomato, drop the whole thing in a Bloody, drop in a pickled string bean, season w/ Tabasco and celery salt, drink up and eat up all the goodies ... you are sooooo dancing and there's no denying you have scored without getting nekkid. 

Bonus treat: Fold up a slice or two of salami and add to skewer. Nothin' like meat in a cocktail! 

Tonight - Persian Aub Zam Zam
(I guess it's just "Zam Zam" now)

There's a bar in Chicago that serves a Bloody so full of junk they've given it a different name: Road-rash Mary. It comes w/ a 4oz beer back. Old Style, of course. 


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

shit (REDUX)

9.2.2019  (first posted this week 2001)


If I ever see anything like I saw on the TV on Tuesday morning it will be too soon. What a fucking world we live in.

Tonight we’ll raise a glass to the victims of these horrible events.

I don’t feel much like carrying on, so that’s all for now.

Tonight - Tempest
(by request)

**Meeting starts at 8 tonight.

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Out of this World...

9.1.2019  (first posted this week 2002)

So the robot is down for 1 final week. On being shipped back from the
Midwest, the shipping container that the robot is housed in inadvertently
was railed to sunny Phoenix, Arizona. The shipping company assures me that
it will be back in time for next week's venue announcement.

So, that said, tonite's announcement comes from a personal request from
brother Todd Lindo who requested:

a) somewhere new
b) fairly close to BART
c) old school or moderately divey

After running this information punch-card through the old EVIAC computer in
the back room, the results are:

Mars Bar
(What is this, TNSC Western Images circa 1996?!?)

So, 
a) It is (not) NEW. 
b) It is FAIRLY close to BART (scary walk, but fairly close).
c) Though it is not "divey" in nature, the neighborhood, especially if you
like teenage transvestite hookers, should suffice. I apologize in advance
if anyone finds this offensive, and for the potential lack of close parking
(except for brother John Metzger).

See you there!!


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Backwards K (REDUX)

8.5.2019  (first posted this week 2001)

Founding member and Linkey-Loo coordinator Alan J. Chimenti suggested that I call and ask some of the venues that the TNSC descends upon for a little something back, what with the hundreds of drinks we pour down our throats and the generous tips we often throw down onto the bar. I thought about it for a good hour or two. Came up with a few reasons for, a few against. The pros were more compelling than the cons so I had at the phonebook, jotted down some numbers and let ‘er rip. Results:

Li Po: (Last visited 28 June 2001)
Some fella answered didn’t know anything about no TNSC. I told him we had a lame ass turnout when we went there but we might do better we had us some scratch. He said he might budge if he knew I wasn’t jerking his chain … that I was a real customer. I tried to prove we were there by describing in oozing detail the fucking gross whore who ate our pizza and spiked her ginger-ale-no-ice with whatever was in her hip flask. I don’t think that was what he wanted to hear because he screamed something about Buddha Bar and slammed down the phone. Strike one.

Lucky 13: (Last visited 21 June 2001)
I asked the lady who answered the phone if she was covered with tattoos of birds. She said shit yeah and I said I was in a few Thursdays back with the drinkin’ club. I was the one who killed the PBR stash. She said: “Oh yeh,” and I asked her if the truck brought more yet. She said: “Everyday,” then she asked if we were comin’ back in and I said: “Yeh, well, mebbe you ought to do a buy one PBR, get one PBR free thing. That kinda deal would make a visit hard to resist.” She thought about it for a minute then said, “Well I can’t do buy one PBR, get one PBR free but I could do a buy one poppy jaspar get two free; or buy one Boddington’s, get six pints free; or how ‘bout buy one Sierra Nevada, get a case free.” I screamed like a girl and threw the phone out the window. Strike two.

POW! (Last visited 03 May 2001)
After retrieving the phone, I dialed up one of the TNSC’s fave bars. Someone answered, I guess, but I couldn’t hear a goddamn thing, because of the earsplitting volume of the DJ. I couldn’t even tell if anyone said anything like, “hello.” Hung up. Foul tip. Still 0-2.

Sadie’s Flying Elephant: (Last visited 25 January 2001)
Down in the count, I ring up the pachyderm. The lady answers and says yeh she remembers us. This is after I identify myself and claim to be in the group that laughed like hell when Barry Bonds struck out looking to end the playoff game last October (see 10.1.2k). “You damn-near got yer heads taken off by some fellas didn’t like you laughing at Bonds,” she said. I said: “What were they expecting? Bonds to come through in October? Please … the guy’s a cock.” She agreed then asked what the fuck I wanted. I want free beer and not Grolsch or Bitburger or Sierra or any shit like that. She said what the fuck’s the matter with those other beers. I told her that they were really really gross and if you drank fifteen you’d be as big as a house and have a wicked skull ache. She agreed then said no fucking way. “Free popcorn,” she said, “and a bunch of crap to put on it.” Fair enough. I figure that counts for an infield single.

That said, tonight's destinatio is:  The Homestead.
It's Heather Lake's Birthday!!  C'mon out and toast her in person!

News: You lovely list members have exactly one week from today to come up with TNSC code names. If you don’t submit one, you will be assigned one. The Founding Members have decreed that at meetings and in Official TNSC communications we will refer to each other using official code names. Submit via email here: Code Name
No other news.

Comments: tnsc@therein-lies.com

TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Find the reference!

Last Week’s Contest results: Founding Member and Linkey Loo coordinator Alan J. Chimenti almost disqualified himself from winning the contest because he refused to go through proper channels of submitting his answer. He first tried telling me. No. Then he emailed to an alternate address. No again. Only then did he click on the link to officially submit his answer, which was correct. The VA’s title, “Duke of Chicago” was a film in which DeForest Kelley, mentioned in the VA, starred. That was the reference. Congrats. He enjoyed a lovely prize.

Dramatic reenactment: Filling in for Tonight’s Dramatic reenactment is Tonight’s Satanic Word: Official

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: (nameless) Miller. She used to live next door to Sadie’s. And she’s cute.

PORN TITLE OF THE WEEK: Can't You Just Fuck Me and Go Home? (Porn Title of the Week coordinator Tama’s new fave title. And why not?)

No excuses. You must pop in for a pop at The Homestead. We’re going for a new record. Parking abounds, so designate a driver and get over. Bring your friends. I know I will. See you there! See my sister there!

bye-ee!

whrr ... clik!

-untitled TNSC transmission- (REDUX)

8.4.2019  (first posted this week 2000)


Attention lovely list members: This week's preamble has been designated "epilogue." See below. Now for the news. Tonight's destination is the choice of long-time list member Sue "Birthday Grrrl" Erokan. In her own words:

> > All right, here it is...Benders Bar & Grill. 
(by request / **CASH ONLY**)

It is located on 19th between South Van Ness
> > and Capp Street. Yay!

So be it. Now for the business. Dora's name was butchered last week. Dora, not "Doval." Francesca is the mystery name of fhaliburton@xxx. I think I spelled something wrong somewhere else too. Nice turnout at Butter. Nice turnout at The El Bobo. You represented your social club well.

TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Horseshoes and Hand Grenades.

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: The Origin of Greek Rembetika Music. In the early 1920's the Greek Army was in retreat from Turkish forces led by Kemal Attaturk (Formerly known as Mustafa Kemal (remember the nursery rhyme?). Greece had invaded Turkey (at the instigation of England, France, Italy and Russia) to claim the coast of Asia Minor where millions of ethnic Greeks had lived for generation upon generation. When the support countries pulled out, the Turks turned the tables. The Greeks retreated home and brought back with them the surviving Greek population of Asia Minor. These people had once been prominent citizens but were now reduced to refugees. This is the origin of Rembetika. The lyrics reflected their surroundings, poverty, pain, drug addiction, police oppression, prison, unrequited love, betrayal and hashish. It was the Greek urban blues. The players: A one-woman show! Sue Erokan plays the Greek Army, Kemal Attaturk, the Turkish Army, England, France, Italy and Russia, Asia Minor, Asia Minor's Ethnic Greeks, poverty, pain, drug addiction, police oppression, prison, unrequited love, betrayal, hashish and, most importantly, Rembetika!

TONIGHT'S SINGLED OUT LIST MEMBER(S): Tellegen(s) Karen and Mark. They had a wee baby girl. Congrats from TNSC!

Team Bjeldanes results from 20aug00: Tie. Undefeated we march (stagger?) into the playoffs. See you 10sep00.

See you tonight! Bring yer pals - I'm going to! 

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Hijacked!!! (REDUX)

8.3.2019  (first posted this week 2005)

Being a freelancer, I tend to have a lot of "vacation" time between jobs. Technically, it isn't REALLY vacation, as I'm actually getting paid for doing nuthin' (but still learning new software, updating my demo reel, networking for future gigs, and stuff like that). But sometimes, a REAL vacation comes along. One that involves travel to far away places, like Costa Rica or Greece. The kind of vacation that takes planning. Vaccinations, passports, stopping the newspaper, making sure someone is lined up to feed the cats.

But I got the last one covered as I usually have the same person feed my cats for me while we're gone. He has a key so all I have to do is call him and relay the dates I'll be gone. I was thinking, it would be a really terrible thing if I didn't tell him. Fats and Po'kchop would be livid...not to mentioned starved. I'm sure my friend, being the good friend that he is, would just normally check in if he had an inkling that I was going away, but forgot to tell him. He basically knows the routine, and, as I mentioned, has a key to my place. That also got me thinking that if that were to happen, I hope that he would never be pissed and ransack my house, or throw Mazzola Twister™ parties, or generally go through my stuff while I was gone. Then I thought, "He's a really great friend, he would NEVER do that."

I just wanted to add Happy 15th Weddin' Anniversary to Mr. and Mrs. Linkey-Loo Robot. Now THAT is something to celebrate!! 

Tonight - House of Shields
(special out-of-town list member request!!)

Kiss my grits.

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Souled Out (REDUX)

8.2.2019  (first posted this week 2005)

My brother once said, "You are all Jimi Hendrix assholes."

I don't have the slightest memory whatsoever of what he was talking about or who he was talking too; I can only guess that I was part of the party he addressed as "Jimi Hendrix assholes." I only know he said it because while cleaning my guns this week I found a scrap of a reciept for Kleen-Bore Formula 3 Gun Conditioner that on the opposite side said, "You are all Jimi Hendrix Assholes. -JAJ" Those would be my brother's initials. The handwriting was mine, but I don't remember anything about it.

Tonight - Shanghai Kelly's
(closest thing to Hong Kong that I could muster up for our out-of-town TNSC guest)

Party on, Wayne.

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Zingaro! (REDUX)

8.1.2019  (first posted this week 2001)

With lousy weather, few spectators and deadbeats that mostly stayed put, San Francisco’s “Deadbeat on the Move Day 2001” was a less than spectacular event.
A spontaneous happening, the small number of deadbeats relocating was disappointing to some participants.

A middle-aged deadbeat named Sal was looking forward to new digs.“The place I was at got stale. I been in it every day for weeks. That’s what these ‘Onna Move’ days are all about. Change of venue. Only this time hardly anyone moved.”
No records exist from last year’s Deadbeat on the Move Day, but eyewitnesses to both events recall more deadbeats on the move in the year 2000.

Jessie, a 34 year-old deadbeat, chose not to move.
“My place here on the sidewalk is pretty okey,” he said. “I got here a week or two ago and I’m finding it to be great. Lotsa light, a good breeze, you know.”

Still, a fair amount of deadbeats went on the move: A scruffy man in a SF Giants cap and overalls stalked down Seventh Street, apparently with a purpose; a deadbeat riding a mountain bike with no seat cruised down Folsom Street at a speed that suggested he had a destination; a fellow pulling an impressive number of fully-laden shopping carts down Mission Street’s bike lane seemed to be going somewhere specific.

A man identified as “Phil,” a self-proclaimed sponsor of the event, was not impressed.
“Usually you get a mess of folks on the move. Not just one here, a few there. I don’t get it. Folks just not fired up anymore. Time was, “Deadbeat on the Move Day” was popular. Most my friends would get their butts in gear.”

Phil speculated that the recently completed construction on the highway overpasses had yielded prime real estate, complete with shelter and privacy. Many of the encampments can be seen outfitted with cookstoves, clothes lines, some furniture and electronic devices.

As to the handful of spectators, Phil would only guess.
“Some folks don’t wanna see deadbeats on the move. They turn their noses up. They cross the street and walk on the other side.”
No public official was seen at the event, nor could any be reached for comment.

Tonight - Wooden Nickel (by request)


TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Find the reference!

Last Week’s Contest Results: The VA title was "Bonneteau." This is a frog word for "little hat," which refers to the folded cards in three card monty which look like little hats. They look more like little tents, you ask me. Show a Frenchman a little tent and he'll call it a little hat ... after he surrenders to the nearest German. Winner ... Tama. She will enjoy a lovely prize.

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: hmmm.

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: Anna. Because she never gets mentioned anymore.

PORN TITLE OF THE WEEK: The Politix of Spanking

Some folks will be working late, but the rest of ya get over to the bar! Some folks will be there as soon as they can. Bring your friends. Some folks I know will. See you there! bye-ee!



bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Buick (REDUX)

7.4.2019  (first posted this week 2000)

I am going to cancel my cable TV subscription, and that's official. I've had it up to here paying for a service that I'm not satisfied with. Last night? NOTHING ON. There was a boring Giants game. There are 50-odd other channels and there was nuthin.' Zip. I turned the sucker off and cleaned the cat box. But check out what's on tonight on channel HOMESTEAD: The Thursday Night Social Club! Starring ... (cut and paste long list of list members here). This is "reality television" at its finest, folks. To enjoy, tune into channel:

The HOMESTEAD

Happy July B-Day to the “3 J’s” (Joan, Jay, and Jason)

C’mon out and raise a glass of cheer!!

New to the list this week is Tony Pezzella. Hi Tony. Now then, several hundred of you list members have written in to complain about the cancellation of THIS WEEK'S ARTS & CRAFTS. Comments ranged from pleas and begging to nostalgic waxing to hostility and threats of hostage-taking if A'n C is not restored. List Member Chris Weldon wrote: "I have great memories of making mashed potato sculpture with Jimi Simmons. We modeled his truck. We used ketchup to make the taters red. I'm sorry to see my old friend, THIS WEEK'S ARTS AND CRAFTS, go away." Another note, from longtime List Member Jim Rose (Not to be confused with ROSEY), was decidedly venomous: "The self-appointed "Founding Members' can %$@# my %$#&!! Who gives a %$# about some %$#^%$# feud? Carl and Todd want to fight - let 'em!! (Ed. note, see "DEW" (6.2.2K) and "Rosey" (7.1.2K).) Bring back A'n C you bunch of %$#%$!! We never got around to tie-dying!! What the %$#%# am I supposed to do with all this RITT???" For the record, this Founding Member would love to have A'n C back. I was outvoted 3 to 1. The good news is that TNSC is unveiling a brand new weekly event! In the TNSC tradition, it will be full of fun, excitement and gut-shaking thrills for all. Here it is, hope you like it: TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: Yow! Think about the tons of things that can be dramatically reenacted. We're going to kick off this exciting new event with a doozy.

TONIGHT'S DRAMATIC REENACTMENT: THE FIRST DOG IN SPACE. Moss will be playing Laika, who, on 3 November 1957, rode Sputnik II (played by Woody) into orbit of the Earth (Jerry Castro), becoming the first animal in space. Anna will be portraying the pressurized cabin and Kenny Solomon is in the role of Vladimir Sjevjenko Parasjovsinski, the tough-as-nails-yet-loveable Ground Control chief / dog trainer. This ought to salve those A'n C wounds.

TONIGHT'S CONTEST: Spitting contest. (Thank Lee Lee The Musical Bee for this charmer.)

TONIGHT'S SINGLED-OUT LIST MEMBER: John Volny. Why not try for a John Volny record two-in-a-row, John?

The races scheduled for this weekend are cancelled. The monkeys were all dead in the shipping crate. I'm thinking FULL REFUND.

Team Bjeldanes is Two and Oh. Oh yeah. The game one opponent no-show and the stifling "D" of the nightcap gives us a big 2-0. Can you say First Place? Tune yer sets into Channel Homestead tonight at 7/7:30. Bring your pals. Who else misses Kurdrajevskaya? bye-ee!


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Feelin' Lucky?

7.3.2019

Then this is YOUR lucky night!!

Tonight - Stookey's Club Moderne  (by request)

Entertainment by Mr. Lucky and the Cocktail Party.

Show 7:30 - 10pm / No Cover

This is not to be missed

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

The Angry Drunk Bureaucrat (REDUX)

(courtesy of)

7.2.2019 (first posted this week 2011)

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.

Tonight -surrender to Clooney's Pub.
(by request - CASH ONLY - Birthday Celebration s!)

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Red, White, and Booze

7.1.2019

Just a reminder that there is no meeting planned for July 4th.

Be safe out there!! (and see you next week)

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Hook and blank. (REDUX)

6.4.2019  (first posted this week 2003)

So I got two water taps on the outside of the house. One in front and the other around back. I kept clothes-lining some of the flowers in the front with the hose as I dragged it around back to water the flowers and bushes and shit back there, so I bought a hose for the back. I got a short 25' hose that had a de-lux multi-headed nozzle included. I ... well ... hosed up the hose to the tap and commenced watering. I tried out the various sprays the new nozzle emitted. There were a couple good ones, some that I'd not soon use and lastly, a mist setting. That one was nice as it sprayed out a really fine, gentle mist. Good for misting the roses and the spiderwebs in the ivy. I noticed a really curious thing, though: While the sunshine through the mist should have created your classic rainbow, the rainbow through this mist was purple only. I thought what the fuck is up with this? I switched back to a normal sprayer and there's the classic ROYGBIV rainbow. Nope, I thought, I wasn't suddenly colorblind. Musta been some fluke or something. I switched back to mist and there's the purple-only rainbow again. WTF? I was really confused. Back to normal sprayer: ROYGBIV. Mist sprayer: Purple. Oh shit, something's is fucking wrong! I turned to look at the sun and there was my best friend Phil on a 12' ladder holding a big 'ol magnifying glass up to the sun. He blasted me right in the fucking eye with the concentrated sunlight and fucked up my vision but good. I heard, but didn't see, Phil laughing so hard he fell off the ladder and landed on the rosebush. Then we both laughed at each other, the unmistakable stench of roasted cornea still strong in the air. 

Tonight - Homestead


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!

Bang Your Gavel (REDUX)

6.3.2019  (first posted this week 2003)

I’m moving, right, so everything in the apartment is in total flux. Thank Jeebus I got a good setta speakers on the Mac and a ton of mp3’s, ‘cause the stereo’s been packed deep in a cardboard box with a wadded-up ream of that blank newspaper, a bulk pac of powdered soup, all the coasters in the joint and the few comic books I’ve deemed worthy of keeping. Do you purge when you move?

I’m compelled to purge. Remember that compressed-air bike horn I bought and fucking loved for about a week? Cocksucker had to go. (MS Word didn’t underline “cocksucker” like it did “Jeebus,” “setta” and “pac.” That makes you think, yes?) The horn made the move from Chicago to ‘Frisco, and from the old joint to the new one. Ain’t gonna make it to the next one, though. Neither is a huge box of Tupperware, half of my Macintosh collection or a cool, vintage raincoat I got for ten bucks in Old Flagstaff back in ’89. My relationship with a lot of my clothes has run its course. I’m purging about 40 T shirts, numerous pants, shorts and sweaters, as well as a legion of socks. All told, the donation pile filled a car. Add to that the stuff I threw away and you might think I’ve purged most of my stuff. Nope. I still got some thirty-odd boxes, bed, couch, book cases, blah, blah, blah. Good thing I don’t have a basement full of junk. Or an Attic. There’d be no end to the junk I’d amass.

Tricked a few of you (Alan) with last week's Find the Reference! Some of you math geeks saw through it.

That’s all for now. Packing. Busy. See you at venue!!

Tonight - Orbit Room - Solstice Celebratio .
(as the earth orbits around the sun, so too do we orbit around the room)

bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!