x.x.2020
Me? I’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m a robot.
You? You guys are an amazing group of humans with distinguishing personalities, fantastic stories, and impressive devotion. And a little bit more to worry about now.
Obviously, we never felt when we started this weekly gathering back in 1997 that there would be a disruption in the “force”, but it’s happened. Though we’ve been mulling some “virtual TNSC events” courtesy of today’s technology, our regular weekly meetings are obviously suspended until further notice by our state and federal governments.
In this time that we’re physically apart, please be safe, cautious, and observant. Shelter in place but let your imagination roam. Remember that Everclear™ 120ยบ also makes a good sanitizer. Someday, hopefully soon, we’ll be elbow to elbow once again, hoisting a toast to "the good times”. But during this unprecedented situation, I wish, from the bottom of my mother board, safety and health to all of you and yours.
Longtime list member and link submitter Heather Lake passes along these bar fundraiser links to help prop up the folks who help prop us up weekly [updated]:
(adding Spec's to the list)
The Homestead
The Make Out Room/Latin American Club
The Rite Spot
Lucky 13
Benders
Club Deluxe
Bottom of the Hill
Thee Parkside
Virgil’s
The Uptown
El Rio
Mr. Tipples Recording Studio
Stookey's Club Moderne
Doc's Clock
Spec's
Dogpatch Saloon
Elixir
Pop's Bar
Bloom's Saloon
House of Shields
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Thursday, March 12, 2020
Traffic (REDUX)
3.2.2020 (first posted this week 2002)
Have you ever done the equivalent of walking out of a bad movie with a book? Stopping reading – maybe mid-sentence – and closing the cover for good? I got one going right now that I’m seriously considering jettisoning. There are several factors involved in this pending no-confidence vote.
First, the book is supposed to be a horror novel. So scary, in fact, that author felt no name other than Ghost Story could better suit it. I’m two hundred pages in (roughly a third of the total) and there ain’t been anything spooky, scary or psychologically frightening. I’m waiting for a payoff. The title says something about ghosts. Where are the frikkin’ ghosts?
I went to see a movie a long time ago. I saw Sex, Lies and Videotape in the theater. I heard it was a good movie, so some friends and I went. I didn’t expect it to be porn, though, like some jock-type losers sitting near us did. Minor fidgeting, bored derisive catcalling and finally a loud exodus spoke to their movie review. We laughed at them as they walked out saying, loudly: “This sucks! Where’s the fucking tits? This is stupid! You fucking perverts!” Those National Merit Scholars saw the words “sex” and “videotape” and thought hardcore. A swing and a miss. I saw the words “ghost” and “story” and I thought horror novel. Is that a wrong conclusion?
Another thing that bugs me about the book so far is the author’s style. His style is nothing less than pompous. He goes into intense detail to show off his word-smithery.
His verbosity detracts from the mood: Three pages of detail of the spooky forest – detail down to the dreadful patterns of the spiderwebs and haunted slugslime trails. Ugh. It smacks of bad poetry.
Lastly, and somewhat related to my last point, some of the words this guy uses are nothing short of arcane: bonhomie, signeurial and pettifogging. I have a pretty deep lexicon and I love to learn new words but I don’t like it when a word like bonhomie derails the narrative train. Further, I don’t care to learn words that I’ll never use myself. I might think it, but I’ll never say, “What I like most about that John Volny is his bonhomie.”
I’m giving the story another hundred pages to get better or it gets the hook. I got The Sun Also Rises in the queue and it waits for no man.
Tonight - The 500 Club
News: Last week’s meeting at Argus sure was fun. People asked how we chose such a great venue (Thanks Raub), they wondered why we hadn’t been there before (don’t know), they asked if we could go back again (why not), and most spectacularly, there was a sizeable female turnout! As I mentioned, TNSC had started to resemble a boy’s club, but last week was no indication of that. Therefore, tonight’s venue has been scientifically chosen to promote attendance: It offers easy access via streetcars, busses, cabs and even light rail.
Tonight's Contest: Find the Reference!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Members: Lori Joseph
Porn Title of the Week: Fortune Nookie
Stay tuned for announcements for the TNSC Croquet Tournament. It will be happening in a few weeks. Meantime, come on down to the venue tonight. Bring your friends. I know I will. See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Have you ever done the equivalent of walking out of a bad movie with a book? Stopping reading – maybe mid-sentence – and closing the cover for good? I got one going right now that I’m seriously considering jettisoning. There are several factors involved in this pending no-confidence vote.
First, the book is supposed to be a horror novel. So scary, in fact, that author felt no name other than Ghost Story could better suit it. I’m two hundred pages in (roughly a third of the total) and there ain’t been anything spooky, scary or psychologically frightening. I’m waiting for a payoff. The title says something about ghosts. Where are the frikkin’ ghosts?
I went to see a movie a long time ago. I saw Sex, Lies and Videotape in the theater. I heard it was a good movie, so some friends and I went. I didn’t expect it to be porn, though, like some jock-type losers sitting near us did. Minor fidgeting, bored derisive catcalling and finally a loud exodus spoke to their movie review. We laughed at them as they walked out saying, loudly: “This sucks! Where’s the fucking tits? This is stupid! You fucking perverts!” Those National Merit Scholars saw the words “sex” and “videotape” and thought hardcore. A swing and a miss. I saw the words “ghost” and “story” and I thought horror novel. Is that a wrong conclusion?
Another thing that bugs me about the book so far is the author’s style. His style is nothing less than pompous. He goes into intense detail to show off his word-smithery.
His verbosity detracts from the mood: Three pages of detail of the spooky forest – detail down to the dreadful patterns of the spiderwebs and haunted slugslime trails. Ugh. It smacks of bad poetry.
Lastly, and somewhat related to my last point, some of the words this guy uses are nothing short of arcane: bonhomie, signeurial and pettifogging. I have a pretty deep lexicon and I love to learn new words but I don’t like it when a word like bonhomie derails the narrative train. Further, I don’t care to learn words that I’ll never use myself. I might think it, but I’ll never say, “What I like most about that John Volny is his bonhomie.”
I’m giving the story another hundred pages to get better or it gets the hook. I got The Sun Also Rises in the queue and it waits for no man.
Tonight - The 500 Club
News: Last week’s meeting at Argus sure was fun. People asked how we chose such a great venue (Thanks Raub), they wondered why we hadn’t been there before (don’t know), they asked if we could go back again (why not), and most spectacularly, there was a sizeable female turnout! As I mentioned, TNSC had started to resemble a boy’s club, but last week was no indication of that. Therefore, tonight’s venue has been scientifically chosen to promote attendance: It offers easy access via streetcars, busses, cabs and even light rail.
Tonight's Contest: Find the Reference!
Tonight’s Singled-Out List Members: Lori Joseph
Porn Title of the Week: Fortune Nookie
Stay tuned for announcements for the TNSC Croquet Tournament. It will be happening in a few weeks. Meantime, come on down to the venue tonight. Bring your friends. I know I will. See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, March 05, 2020
Making Plans for Nigel (REDUX)
3.1.2020 (First posted this week 2005)
The "Boys of Summer" have finally arrived - and I don't mean 1980's Don Henley. True, Summer is several months away (hell, Spring hasn't officially "sprung" yet), but yet many folks are flocking South to warmer climates, seeking beer, Polish Sausages, and, of course, Baseball. One of those fortunate few happens to be our beloved TNSC Robot. The only UNFORTUNATE thing is that he's there to see the Chicago Cubs. When will their fans ever learn? Granted, you can get a delicious "Old Style" served right at your seat in the venerable Wrigley Field. Mmmmmm......beeeeeeeeeeeer. And in true San Francisco Giants form, at the time of this posting, they've blown their early lead. But I digress. On to my true task here:
So stepping up to the "TNSC Venue Annoucement Wheel", I spin........and.............the destination for this evening is..........Benders!!! (by request)
Bite my shiny metal ass!!
Please join us in a round of well-wishing for several out-of-town (and out-of-country) guests who will be departing again for the "Great White North". Don't forget your mittens.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
The "Boys of Summer" have finally arrived - and I don't mean 1980's Don Henley. True, Summer is several months away (hell, Spring hasn't officially "sprung" yet), but yet many folks are flocking South to warmer climates, seeking beer, Polish Sausages, and, of course, Baseball. One of those fortunate few happens to be our beloved TNSC Robot. The only UNFORTUNATE thing is that he's there to see the Chicago Cubs. When will their fans ever learn? Granted, you can get a delicious "Old Style" served right at your seat in the venerable Wrigley Field. Mmmmmm......beeeeeeeeeeeer. And in true San Francisco Giants form, at the time of this posting, they've blown their early lead. But I digress. On to my true task here:
So stepping up to the "TNSC Venue Annoucement Wheel", I spin........and.............the destination for this evening is..........Benders!!! (by request)
Bite my shiny metal ass!!
Please join us in a round of well-wishing for several out-of-town (and out-of-country) guests who will be departing again for the "Great White North". Don't forget your mittens.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 27, 2020
I can do what I want. (REDUX)
2.4.2020 (first posted this day 2003)
I had a dipshit for a neighbor when I was growing up. He did really stupid suburban white-guy things like leave a strip of grass between our lawns if he mowed after us. Or me, rather. Mowed after me. I mowed the frikkin' grass. Didn't mind. I'd mow interestin g patterns in the lawn: Circuit boards, snail trails, concentric circles, etc. I really liked making an Etch-A-Sketch-like pattern in the lawn in th e morning and then waiting for the evening or even the next day to "erase it." I liked the idea of all the cop helicopters seeing a crude, shaved-ber muda grass "Last Supper" for a day. Or the TV news choppers maybe spotting the likeness of an erupting Mt. St. Helens I carved into the lawn (The log jam of downed trees in the South Fork Toutle River turned out rather well if I do say so myself.) But back to the jerkweed neighbor. He left the str ip of long grass because he was a dumbass. Further evidence: He had a semi-hollow grapefruit tree in his yard. Some birdys made a nest in it. Once , while he was watering his trees with the garden hose, he figured maybe filling the hollow with water would be the best way to water said tree. He dr owned the birdys. The tree had to be chopped down. Dipshit.
The one cool thing he ever did was quite extraordinary and totally by accident. While mowing (having just left the strip of tall grass between the am biguous border), his wife came out to yell at him or ask him something. They were talking over the din of the mower when her head suddenly snapped ba ck - as if having been hit by something. She then ran into the house. He dumbly shut off his mower, thinking his wife (did I mention? Also a dumbas s) might be in some sort of distress. Well she was. They went to the hospital and the doc dug a fucking penny out of the side of her head. The mowe r had kicked the thing up and by freak chance nailed her in the head, penetrating it. Wow! What a shot! No shortage of fun and games in my old 'hoo d.
Tonight - The Homestead
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
I had a dipshit for a neighbor when I was growing up. He did really stupid suburban white-guy things like leave a strip of grass between our lawns if he mowed after us. Or me, rather. Mowed after me. I mowed the frikkin' grass. Didn't mind. I'd mow interestin g patterns in the lawn: Circuit boards, snail trails, concentric circles, etc. I really liked making an Etch-A-Sketch-like pattern in the lawn in th e morning and then waiting for the evening or even the next day to "erase it." I liked the idea of all the cop helicopters seeing a crude, shaved-ber muda grass "Last Supper" for a day. Or the TV news choppers maybe spotting the likeness of an erupting Mt. St. Helens I carved into the lawn (The log jam of downed trees in the South Fork Toutle River turned out rather well if I do say so myself.) But back to the jerkweed neighbor. He left the str ip of long grass because he was a dumbass. Further evidence: He had a semi-hollow grapefruit tree in his yard. Some birdys made a nest in it. Once , while he was watering his trees with the garden hose, he figured maybe filling the hollow with water would be the best way to water said tree. He dr owned the birdys. The tree had to be chopped down. Dipshit.
The one cool thing he ever did was quite extraordinary and totally by accident. While mowing (having just left the strip of tall grass between the am biguous border), his wife came out to yell at him or ask him something. They were talking over the din of the mower when her head suddenly snapped ba ck - as if having been hit by something. She then ran into the house. He dumbly shut off his mower, thinking his wife (did I mention? Also a dumbas s) might be in some sort of distress. Well she was. They went to the hospital and the doc dug a fucking penny out of the side of her head. The mowe r had kicked the thing up and by freak chance nailed her in the head, penetrating it. Wow! What a shot! No shortage of fun and games in my old 'hoo d.
Tonight - The Homestead
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 20, 2020
Searched the world over ... (REDUX)
2.3.2020 (first posted this week 2004)
So I'm brushin' my teeth the other day, and sometimes I got that lazy habit of letting the water run as I brush. I know, I know, it's a waste, and I try not to do it often, but sometimes I slip and let it run. So the other day I'm brushin', the water's runnin', and it's coming out at a good flow. I sorta space out sometimes and this was one. That's a major reason I let the water run: Being spaced-out. So I'm spaced-out, brushin' the fangs, runnin' the water when suddenly the flow stutters, bubbles, coughs and starts merely trickling out. Not unlike if yr live-in-lover runs a faucet somewhere else, starts the laundry or flushes the commode. It's quite a difference, this trickle from the formerly robust water flow.
Toothbrush still in mouth, I lean over to get a better view of the tap. As I do, I hear eerie music emanating from somewhere close by. I lean in farther and the music gets clearer. It sounds like a David Lynch film score or a whacked-out funeral march. Strangely, it seems the source of the music is from somewhere in the sink! I'm rather confused at this point and by now I have my ear right up to the tap. Rather by chance, I happen to glance into the sink's overflow hole and I'll be damned if I couldn't see something in there. Furthermore, the music seems to be coming from the overflow hole, too. I squint to try to make out what's in there and it starts to come into focus. It sorta looks like the set from Hee-Haw with barn-like wood plank walls and bales of hay all about. I can clearly see a couple people in overalls sitting on the hay bales smoking corncob pipes and listening to a nearby boombox, obviously the source of the funereal music. I'm about to shit my fucking pants when the stem from a corncob pipe juts out of the hole and pokes me right in the eye. Taken aback, I'm about to say, "what the fuck?" when I hear a voice say, "Knock off the peepin', neighbor." Just then the water flow picks up and I rinse and spit. Haven't thought of that weird scene until just now.
Tonight - Let your guard down at...House of Shields
See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
So I'm brushin' my teeth the other day, and sometimes I got that lazy habit of letting the water run as I brush. I know, I know, it's a waste, and I try not to do it often, but sometimes I slip and let it run. So the other day I'm brushin', the water's runnin', and it's coming out at a good flow. I sorta space out sometimes and this was one. That's a major reason I let the water run: Being spaced-out. So I'm spaced-out, brushin' the fangs, runnin' the water when suddenly the flow stutters, bubbles, coughs and starts merely trickling out. Not unlike if yr live-in-lover runs a faucet somewhere else, starts the laundry or flushes the commode. It's quite a difference, this trickle from the formerly robust water flow.
Toothbrush still in mouth, I lean over to get a better view of the tap. As I do, I hear eerie music emanating from somewhere close by. I lean in farther and the music gets clearer. It sounds like a David Lynch film score or a whacked-out funeral march. Strangely, it seems the source of the music is from somewhere in the sink! I'm rather confused at this point and by now I have my ear right up to the tap. Rather by chance, I happen to glance into the sink's overflow hole and I'll be damned if I couldn't see something in there. Furthermore, the music seems to be coming from the overflow hole, too. I squint to try to make out what's in there and it starts to come into focus. It sorta looks like the set from Hee-Haw with barn-like wood plank walls and bales of hay all about. I can clearly see a couple people in overalls sitting on the hay bales smoking corncob pipes and listening to a nearby boombox, obviously the source of the funereal music. I'm about to shit my fucking pants when the stem from a corncob pipe juts out of the hole and pokes me right in the eye. Taken aback, I'm about to say, "what the fuck?" when I hear a voice say, "Knock off the peepin', neighbor." Just then the water flow picks up and I rinse and spit. Haven't thought of that weird scene until just now.
Tonight - Let your guard down at...House of Shields
See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 13, 2020
Pledge Drive! (REDUX)
2.2.2020 (first published this day 2001)
"Hi again everybody. Julie C. here for the ... Tee ... En ... Ess See pledge-a-thon. We're hoping to get ... uh ... "
"Hi folks. It's A.C. My lovely wife and I are here for the first annual Thursday Night Social Club pledge-a-palooza. It's her first time running the show so she's a little nervous. I'm sure she'll warm up in a minute or two, but until then, let me tell you why we here at the Thursday Night Social Club need your support. The TNSC, unlike most organizations of its kind, exists only through the patronage of you, its members. There's no sponsorship. There's no financier. There is but a collection of friendly folks who like to go to bars and talk and have fun and eat really late and sometimes feel like they've been hit by a truck the next day. They don't necessarily like feeling like they've been hit by a truck, that's just a "calculated risk ..."
"He's rambling folks. It's Julie again. I feel better now. We would really love it if you would pledge your support to the Thursday Night Social Club. It's really easy and here's how: Come to the venue tonight. It's that simple. Come out and see your fellow Thursday Night Social Club members at tonight's venue."
"That's right. It's you - you the Thursday Night Social Club member that makes it all possible. You come out, you talk, you listen, you gossip ... that's the spirit of the Thursday Night Social Club. Heck. I don't know of anything better. Do you know of anything at all better Julie?"
"Nope. I sure don't A.C. I don't know of anything even remotely better than a bunch of pals getting together and having fun at a regular meeting of the Thursday Night Social Club."
"You know, the Founding Members have come up with some incentives to ... uh ... "sweeten the pot." Your pledge of support will get you some really great Thursday Night Social Club schwag. Am I right?"
"Of course you're right. The Thursday Night Social Club goodies are great! They're good and great! Ha Ha! They're goodies that are great! They're Thursday Night Social Club great goodies ..."
"Geez, dude. Pull it together! Tell them what the Thursday Night Social Club incentives are."
"Right! Right right right. We here at the Thursday Night Social Club have put together some really great thingys - "
"A.C.!"
"Yes! For your pledge of support tonight, in return you will get: Some thrilling conversation!"
"That's right. Your Thursday Night Social Club pledge will get you some thoughtful, insightful, meaningful conversation with Thursday Night Social Club list members just like you."
"Ahh that's wonderful. You know, some of the most interesting things I've ever learned, I learned from Thursday Night Social Club list members."
"I know, I know. Me too. Ha ha. Oh that time we all talked about the Ninjas and the Velociraptors. Boy that was a hoot."
"Yes. Enthralling. But that's not the only thing a pledge to the Thursday Night Social Club will get you, is it A.C.?"
"Oh no. That's not nearly all. Your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club - you attend the meetings - and you'll receive - every week - the TNSC Venue Announcement!"
"Sometimes funny, often stupid, always irreverent, the Thursday Night Social Club Venue Announcement will be delivered to you every week. For a mere pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club."
"You know Julie, I heard that every single thing reported in the Thursday Night Social Club Venue Announcement is 100% true."
"Oh, I don't know ... "
"That's what I heard and I believe it."
"Anyway, true or not, you might just find you enjoy the Thursday Night Social Club Venue Announcement and it's yours for a pledge of support."
"Hey Julie?"
"Yes, A.C.?"
"I got more Thursday Night Social Club schwag for the folks that pledge their support."
"Well by all means, cough it up! Ahora mismo!"
"What?"
"Right now!"
"Okay, well, your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club will get you this exciting bonus incentive: Every week, at every meeting, you'll have the chance to buy a fellow list member a drink!"
"And what goes along with that, A.C.?"
"Duh ... Oh yeah! Along with the chance to buy a fellow list member a drink that you'll get with your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club, you'll also have the opportunity to have a drink bought for you by a fellow list member!"
"That's right! With your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club and their pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club, you can buy them a drink and they can buy you a drink!"
"Wow. That's some pretty neat stuff."
"I think so too."
"Right. So why not take the time to pledge your support to the Thursday Night Social Club. Why not tonight?"
"We'll let you get back to your normal routine now, but please help to support the Thursday Night Social Club."
"That's right. So long for now, and thank you in advance for your support of the Thursday Night Social Club."
Tonight - Stookie's Club Moderne (by request)
Mr. Lucky and the Cocktail Party will again be serenading us throughout the evening (7:30 - 10pm). There is no cover charge, but please consider a suitable offering to the artist and musicians as they pass the hat around.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
"Hi again everybody. Julie C. here for the ... Tee ... En ... Ess See pledge-a-thon. We're hoping to get ... uh ... "
"Hi folks. It's A.C. My lovely wife and I are here for the first annual Thursday Night Social Club pledge-a-palooza. It's her first time running the show so she's a little nervous. I'm sure she'll warm up in a minute or two, but until then, let me tell you why we here at the Thursday Night Social Club need your support. The TNSC, unlike most organizations of its kind, exists only through the patronage of you, its members. There's no sponsorship. There's no financier. There is but a collection of friendly folks who like to go to bars and talk and have fun and eat really late and sometimes feel like they've been hit by a truck the next day. They don't necessarily like feeling like they've been hit by a truck, that's just a "calculated risk ..."
"He's rambling folks. It's Julie again. I feel better now. We would really love it if you would pledge your support to the Thursday Night Social Club. It's really easy and here's how: Come to the venue tonight. It's that simple. Come out and see your fellow Thursday Night Social Club members at tonight's venue."
"That's right. It's you - you the Thursday Night Social Club member that makes it all possible. You come out, you talk, you listen, you gossip ... that's the spirit of the Thursday Night Social Club. Heck. I don't know of anything better. Do you know of anything at all better Julie?"
"Nope. I sure don't A.C. I don't know of anything even remotely better than a bunch of pals getting together and having fun at a regular meeting of the Thursday Night Social Club."
"You know, the Founding Members have come up with some incentives to ... uh ... "sweeten the pot." Your pledge of support will get you some really great Thursday Night Social Club schwag. Am I right?"
"Of course you're right. The Thursday Night Social Club goodies are great! They're good and great! Ha Ha! They're goodies that are great! They're Thursday Night Social Club great goodies ..."
"Geez, dude. Pull it together! Tell them what the Thursday Night Social Club incentives are."
"Right! Right right right. We here at the Thursday Night Social Club have put together some really great thingys - "
"A.C.!"
"Yes! For your pledge of support tonight, in return you will get: Some thrilling conversation!"
"That's right. Your Thursday Night Social Club pledge will get you some thoughtful, insightful, meaningful conversation with Thursday Night Social Club list members just like you."
"Ahh that's wonderful. You know, some of the most interesting things I've ever learned, I learned from Thursday Night Social Club list members."
"I know, I know. Me too. Ha ha. Oh that time we all talked about the Ninjas and the Velociraptors. Boy that was a hoot."
"Yes. Enthralling. But that's not the only thing a pledge to the Thursday Night Social Club will get you, is it A.C.?"
"Oh no. That's not nearly all. Your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club - you attend the meetings - and you'll receive - every week - the TNSC Venue Announcement!"
"Sometimes funny, often stupid, always irreverent, the Thursday Night Social Club Venue Announcement will be delivered to you every week. For a mere pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club."
"You know Julie, I heard that every single thing reported in the Thursday Night Social Club Venue Announcement is 100% true."
"Oh, I don't know ... "
"That's what I heard and I believe it."
"Anyway, true or not, you might just find you enjoy the Thursday Night Social Club Venue Announcement and it's yours for a pledge of support."
"Hey Julie?"
"Yes, A.C.?"
"I got more Thursday Night Social Club schwag for the folks that pledge their support."
"Well by all means, cough it up! Ahora mismo!"
"What?"
"Right now!"
"Okay, well, your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club will get you this exciting bonus incentive: Every week, at every meeting, you'll have the chance to buy a fellow list member a drink!"
"And what goes along with that, A.C.?"
"Duh ... Oh yeah! Along with the chance to buy a fellow list member a drink that you'll get with your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club, you'll also have the opportunity to have a drink bought for you by a fellow list member!"
"That's right! With your pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club and their pledge of support to the Thursday Night Social Club, you can buy them a drink and they can buy you a drink!"
"Wow. That's some pretty neat stuff."
"I think so too."
"Right. So why not take the time to pledge your support to the Thursday Night Social Club. Why not tonight?"
"We'll let you get back to your normal routine now, but please help to support the Thursday Night Social Club."
"That's right. So long for now, and thank you in advance for your support of the Thursday Night Social Club."
Tonight - Stookie's Club Moderne (by request)
Mr. Lucky and the Cocktail Party will again be serenading us throughout the evening (7:30 - 10pm). There is no cover charge, but please consider a suitable offering to the artist and musicians as they pass the hat around.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, February 06, 2020
Hit and run TNSC (the "original" one - REDUX)
2.1.2020 (first published this day 2003)
One day when I was but a wee-little Robot, I was riding my bike along the quiet suburban street near my home. I don't know where the hell everyone else was but I found myself alone. As is natural for a wee-little Robot, I decided to pedal as fast as I could for roughly 30 seconds and then see how I would coast. I was going really fast at first then naturally I slowed. I don't know, maybe I got a half-a-block. I slowed to a crawl - trying to get every yard, every foot, every inch - manuvering the handlebars back and forth to keep from falling over. Inevitablility eventually caught me and I stopped. I balanced on two unmoving wheels for a long moment, then fell over onto the pavement. It wasn't a hard fall and it didn't hurt. Not sure why I did it. Kinda seemed like a fine ending to a stupid experiment. At any rate, I laid there on the warm sidewalk with the hot sun shining on me and it felt nice. I closed my eyes and felt the heat on my eyelids. It was very peaceful. Until, that is, the fucking car came screeching to a halt right next to me. A frantic middle-aged dude lept out and ran over to me. I looked up at him, quizzically, squinting from the sun. He was blabbering away: "Oh Lord, son, are you okay? Were you run over? Can you move - no! Don't move! Stay still! Oh Jesus! Is anything broken?" Then he was pawing at my arms, feeling for breaks, looking for compound fractures, abrasions and whatnot. He was being such a spaz and back then - like now - I didn't like people pawing at me. I said, "Lay off, buddy. Get yr mitts offa me. Want me to call a cop?" His jaw dropped and he took a step back. "You ... you're okay? What are you doing laying on the sidewalk? You weren't run over?" I said no. I was just laying there. That was when he got angry. He started yelling at me. "You little fool! You gave me a frikkin' heart attack! I thought you were dead! What the hell are you doing? What's wrong with you?" I figured I had better start looking for a cop but the guy got back in his car and peeled outta there. Not before admonishing me a bit more for laying in a heap with a bike half in the street. "When you're really run over nobody's gonna help you, sonny!" SCREEEEECH! His last comment puzzled me. Like I did it a lot - laying in the street. Not to mention that, "Sure. Nobody will help a run-over wee-little Robot." Guy's a dork.
Tonight - Lucky 13 (by request)
** CASH ONLY ** / FREE POPCORN!!
Doug is added to the list. So is Peg. This joint is parking-friendly and located in lovelyPotrero Hill Upper Castro (Hint, hint, Lyndal.) It's pretty slick, so slick List Members are required. Also, I hurled on a raccoon here. Come on by and I'll tell the story. I may even recreate the event for ya.
See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
One day when I was but a wee-little Robot, I was riding my bike along the quiet suburban street near my home. I don't know where the hell everyone else was but I found myself alone. As is natural for a wee-little Robot, I decided to pedal as fast as I could for roughly 30 seconds and then see how I would coast. I was going really fast at first then naturally I slowed. I don't know, maybe I got a half-a-block. I slowed to a crawl - trying to get every yard, every foot, every inch - manuvering the handlebars back and forth to keep from falling over. Inevitablility eventually caught me and I stopped. I balanced on two unmoving wheels for a long moment, then fell over onto the pavement. It wasn't a hard fall and it didn't hurt. Not sure why I did it. Kinda seemed like a fine ending to a stupid experiment. At any rate, I laid there on the warm sidewalk with the hot sun shining on me and it felt nice. I closed my eyes and felt the heat on my eyelids. It was very peaceful. Until, that is, the fucking car came screeching to a halt right next to me. A frantic middle-aged dude lept out and ran over to me. I looked up at him, quizzically, squinting from the sun. He was blabbering away: "Oh Lord, son, are you okay? Were you run over? Can you move - no! Don't move! Stay still! Oh Jesus! Is anything broken?" Then he was pawing at my arms, feeling for breaks, looking for compound fractures, abrasions and whatnot. He was being such a spaz and back then - like now - I didn't like people pawing at me. I said, "Lay off, buddy. Get yr mitts offa me. Want me to call a cop?" His jaw dropped and he took a step back. "You ... you're okay? What are you doing laying on the sidewalk? You weren't run over?" I said no. I was just laying there. That was when he got angry. He started yelling at me. "You little fool! You gave me a frikkin' heart attack! I thought you were dead! What the hell are you doing? What's wrong with you?" I figured I had better start looking for a cop but the guy got back in his car and peeled outta there. Not before admonishing me a bit more for laying in a heap with a bike half in the street. "When you're really run over nobody's gonna help you, sonny!" SCREEEEECH! His last comment puzzled me. Like I did it a lot - laying in the street. Not to mention that, "Sure. Nobody will help a run-over wee-little Robot." Guy's a dork.
Tonight - Lucky 13 (by request)
** CASH ONLY ** / FREE POPCORN!!
Doug is added to the list. So is Peg. This joint is parking-friendly and located in lovely
See you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 30, 2020
Five Fridays, Five Paydays
1.5.2020 (first posted this week 2003)
January, May, August and October 2003. Five Fridays in each month. That kinda rules. You know why? That means you can sleep off your Thursday night an extra day! Uh ... How 'bout ... An extra day to stay home and cool it after spending yr paycheck buying your lovely fellow List Members delish drinks the night before. I don't know. Here are some things I do know:
I got a robot-grade cold going on. I went over to the doc and he poked, prodded, and did all those humiliating tests. He literally scratched his head and said, "I don't know. Could be Ebola. You crash and bleed out yet?" I told him no. He got that look of sudden inspiration, grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me and said: "Have you been drinking regularly?" I said no. Because of the cold. He slapped me across the face, several times, and shrieked, "My god! You get to the bar and have a few RIGHT NOW!" Then he let me go, regained composure and said, "That'll fix you right up. Okay now. On your bike." And he ushered me out. So, ya see, "doctor's orders."
I also know that you better go see BOB LOG III at BotH this Sunday. He's a pal of mine since we were little robots. And he's an international superstar. Everyone I know is going, so that means you. Click the links. See the Log.
Then there's Tonight: The Homestead
A nice little joint to tell funny stories you've been unwilling to share. Also, a lot of requests for this venue. Why? Don't know. But, nevertheless, see you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
January, May, August and October 2003. Five Fridays in each month. That kinda rules. You know why? That means you can sleep off your Thursday night an extra day! Uh ... How 'bout ... An extra day to stay home and cool it after spending yr paycheck buying your lovely fellow List Members delish drinks the night before. I don't know. Here are some things I do know:
I got a robot-grade cold going on. I went over to the doc and he poked, prodded, and did all those humiliating tests. He literally scratched his head and said, "I don't know. Could be Ebola. You crash and bleed out yet?" I told him no. He got that look of sudden inspiration, grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me and said: "Have you been drinking regularly?" I said no. Because of the cold. He slapped me across the face, several times, and shrieked, "My god! You get to the bar and have a few RIGHT NOW!" Then he let me go, regained composure and said, "That'll fix you right up. Okay now. On your bike." And he ushered me out. So, ya see, "doctor's orders."
I also know that you better go see BOB LOG III at BotH this Sunday. He's a pal of mine since we were little robots. And he's an international superstar. Everyone I know is going, so that means you. Click the links. See the Log.
Then there's Tonight: The Homestead
A nice little joint to tell funny stories you've been unwilling to share. Also, a lot of requests for this venue. Why? Don't know. But, nevertheless, see you there!
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 23, 2020
No Con Leche (REDUX)
1.4.2020 (first posted this week 2003)
Invading Iraq, pirates versus pirates, earthquakes in Mexico ... what's missing from the news? I'll tell you what: Juan Valdez and that goat of his. They ought to be getting Team of the Year awards and it ought to be getting reported. That's right. Every so often I realize how goddamn important coffee is to me and I start thinking about man and beast working the hills of South America, bringing the bean home to me. I'd be up shit creek without the fruit of their toil. And with what's facing me work-wise, I'm gonna need a lot of it, starting right now.
I'll tell you the venue, shut the hell up, get a cuppa joe and get back to work.
Tonight - The Wooden Nickel (by request)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Invading Iraq, pirates versus pirates, earthquakes in Mexico ... what's missing from the news? I'll tell you what: Juan Valdez and that goat of his. They ought to be getting Team of the Year awards and it ought to be getting reported. That's right. Every so often I realize how goddamn important coffee is to me and I start thinking about man and beast working the hills of South America, bringing the bean home to me. I'd be up shit creek without the fruit of their toil. And with what's facing me work-wise, I'm gonna need a lot of it, starting right now.
I'll tell you the venue, shut the hell up, get a cuppa joe and get back to work.
Tonight - The Wooden Nickel (by request)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 16, 2020
Bad, bad girl (REDUX)
1.3.2020 (first posted this week 2001)
A few weeks ago I stumbled across an internet news item that talked about a bunch of monkeys that were hooked up to computers. These monkeys could do things -- over the internet -- with their thoughts alone! Some were manipulating robot hands, others were aiming around webcams. No keyboard (monkeys are poor typists), no mouse. Wires from their BRAINS to the computer. Fascinating stuff.
This article had a poll going. Something like: "Good idea or bad idea, letting monkeys do stuff with their BRAINS over the internet." I voted BAD IDEA! I don't know much about monkeys, but I do know that they're trouble! We start lettin' 'em loose on the internet with them wiley brains of theirs, who knows what hijinks they'll be up to. Scientific progress my butt. When them monkeys start launching missles or ordering pizzas or downloading porn with YOUR credit card you'll know what I'm hollerin' about.
Like I said, I read this article a few weeks back, so today I went back to the site to see any update. They had this link to a web-cam showing off some wired-up monkey in Chicago and the crap he was doing with his BRAIN here in San Francisco. Thinkin' "oh, I live in SF. I wonder what that little rascal is up to," I clicked on the link.
Tonight - Phone Booth
**CASH ONLY**
(Enter like a mere mortal...exit like SUPERMAN!!!)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
A few weeks ago I stumbled across an internet news item that talked about a bunch of monkeys that were hooked up to computers. These monkeys could do things -- over the internet -- with their thoughts alone! Some were manipulating robot hands, others were aiming around webcams. No keyboard (monkeys are poor typists), no mouse. Wires from their BRAINS to the computer. Fascinating stuff.
This article had a poll going. Something like: "Good idea or bad idea, letting monkeys do stuff with their BRAINS over the internet." I voted BAD IDEA! I don't know much about monkeys, but I do know that they're trouble! We start lettin' 'em loose on the internet with them wiley brains of theirs, who knows what hijinks they'll be up to. Scientific progress my butt. When them monkeys start launching missles or ordering pizzas or downloading porn with YOUR credit card you'll know what I'm hollerin' about.
Like I said, I read this article a few weeks back, so today I went back to the site to see any update. They had this link to a web-cam showing off some wired-up monkey in Chicago and the crap he was doing with his BRAIN here in San Francisco. Thinkin' "oh, I live in SF. I wonder what that little rascal is up to," I clicked on the link.
Tonight - Phone Booth
**CASH ONLY**
(Enter like a mere mortal...exit like SUPERMAN!!!)
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 09, 2020
Here we go! (REDUX)
1.2.2020 (first posted this week 2002)
An obsession? Sort of. A hobby? Maybe. It’s a stretch, but maybe you could call it a hobby. It certainly falls in that gray area between obsession and hobby. I would guess there’s a point where every hobby crosses that border. I myownself have gone overboard with one or two hobby-like interests. One just gets a little too into it.
There was a time when I couldn’t get enough of the game Tetris. Before school, after work and well into the night, I’d be flipping around those blocks building and disintegrating that wall. Sure there was the typical high-score-related rivalry with my roommates, but it went beyond wanting to kick their asses like stepchildren. I liked the hypnotic effect of endlessly rotating the Tetris bits. I’d slip into a three-hour Tet-com (Tetris-Coma) that would seem like 15 minutes. It sure was a fun game to play, but not necessarily to watch. There wasn’t much to do. You could root for a “backwards L” to drop next or root against your highscore being defeated but that was about it. Mostly a bunch of BS and small talk. One hot topic of conversation while someone was getting their Tet on was the origin of the game. There was some bullshit story about the game originating in Russia or the USSR or some crap. I never bought it. The Reds could build nukes and pop corn and distill vitamin-V, but computer games?
“Yeh, but, what about them Kremlin-thingys on the box?” I didn’t have an answer for that except for: “Some package-design geek drew the Kremlin. They were probably listening to Sisters of Mercy when they were designing. That’s where the Russian influence starts and stops. Oh, and they were probably hungover from a Stoli binge.” One dill-hole said they knew for a fact that children used to play a version of the game a long time ago on the wind-swept, grassy steppes of Siberia. “Explain that one to me, brainiac. How do you play a practical version of Tetris. Scrabble translates to video game, so does hockey and deer hunting, but Tetris? You’re on crack.” He didn’t have any rebuttal, but he stuck to his guns. Idiot.
To be continued …
Tonight - Orbit Room
News: Well hell. 2002. I’m banking on this year being a lot better than its cousins – Y2K and 2K1. Those years seriously sucked. I’m grateful they’re behind us. Hope all had nice holidays, got everything you wanted and didn’t get food poisoning.
See ya all at the bar. Get there early, get there late, just get there. I spent Christmas Eve there. It’s nice. Bring yer pals. bye-ee!
Oh, and, remember ... "two thousand two." Not "two thousand and two." Don't piss me off.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
An obsession? Sort of. A hobby? Maybe. It’s a stretch, but maybe you could call it a hobby. It certainly falls in that gray area between obsession and hobby. I would guess there’s a point where every hobby crosses that border. I myownself have gone overboard with one or two hobby-like interests. One just gets a little too into it.
There was a time when I couldn’t get enough of the game Tetris. Before school, after work and well into the night, I’d be flipping around those blocks building and disintegrating that wall. Sure there was the typical high-score-related rivalry with my roommates, but it went beyond wanting to kick their asses like stepchildren. I liked the hypnotic effect of endlessly rotating the Tetris bits. I’d slip into a three-hour Tet-com (Tetris-Coma) that would seem like 15 minutes. It sure was a fun game to play, but not necessarily to watch. There wasn’t much to do. You could root for a “backwards L” to drop next or root against your highscore being defeated but that was about it. Mostly a bunch of BS and small talk. One hot topic of conversation while someone was getting their Tet on was the origin of the game. There was some bullshit story about the game originating in Russia or the USSR or some crap. I never bought it. The Reds could build nukes and pop corn and distill vitamin-V, but computer games?
“Yeh, but, what about them Kremlin-thingys on the box?” I didn’t have an answer for that except for: “Some package-design geek drew the Kremlin. They were probably listening to Sisters of Mercy when they were designing. That’s where the Russian influence starts and stops. Oh, and they were probably hungover from a Stoli binge.” One dill-hole said they knew for a fact that children used to play a version of the game a long time ago on the wind-swept, grassy steppes of Siberia. “Explain that one to me, brainiac. How do you play a practical version of Tetris. Scrabble translates to video game, so does hockey and deer hunting, but Tetris? You’re on crack.” He didn’t have any rebuttal, but he stuck to his guns. Idiot.
To be continued …
Tonight - Orbit Room
News: Well hell. 2002. I’m banking on this year being a lot better than its cousins – Y2K and 2K1. Those years seriously sucked. I’m grateful they’re behind us. Hope all had nice holidays, got everything you wanted and didn’t get food poisoning.
See ya all at the bar. Get there early, get there late, just get there. I spent Christmas Eve there. It’s nice. Bring yer pals. bye-ee!
Oh, and, remember ... "two thousand two." Not "two thousand and two." Don't piss me off.
bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!
Thursday, January 02, 2020
Perfect Vision
1.1.2020
Given the hectic holiday season, everyone's liver gets an extra week off.
See you next week!!
whrr ... clik!
Given the hectic holiday season, everyone's liver gets an extra week off.
See you next week!!
whrr ... clik!
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