Gag Reflexology

The urban myth of the Krispy Kreme double cheeseburger is true. Google's New York office served these in its cafeteria.

The San Francisco Weekly's Heartless Doll reports that she's known friends who picked up doughnuts at Krispy Kreme and then driven to McDonalds to get the rest of the food to try these.

I know at least one of my blog fans will be plotting to try this, as soon as he reads this post. He is a major fanboy of chocolate-chip-bacon cookies. I'll bet he adds bacon to these, too. He's always pushing the cholesterol curve, despite his arteries' fervent protestations.

Update: According to Laughing Squid, this gastronomic catastrophe is called the "Luther Burger", after Luther Vandross. I propose that the bacon version be called the "Tariq Treat".

Wild West Ocean Beach

Surfers on Ocean Beach in San Francisco found themselves surrounded by 100 Indians on horseback on Friday, September 5, 2008. Sadly, the Indians and their horses were painfully thin.

A demonstration of the paucity of Federal treaty promises partially upheld? No, the Indians and horses were plywood cutouts painted by Thom Ross. The San Francisco Chronicle reports that this was Mr. Ross' "Valentine to my home town".

The Western artist used the images from Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show photograph from 1902 in which Bill Cody posed his Indian entertainers along the same portion of the beach.

Mr. Ross is a native San Franciscan, but now lives in Seattle. His art installation continues through September 15, 2008.

Please note that the art installation displays American Indians from the Plains tribes in the 19th Century and are not representative of tribal members from the Northern California area, past or present.

You Gotta Give Them Hope

Harvey once said about minorities, "Life without hope isn't worth living. You've got to give them hope. You've gotta give them hope."

I have very high hopes for the movie, Milk. The trailer came out this week.

In fact, I have such high hope for it, that it is my secret sleeper film bet in the Hollywood Stock Exchange.

Based on the trailer and what I've read about the reactions from those who knew Harvey Milk, Sean Penn's acting is spot on.

Sean Penn is very believable in the trailer. I couldn't imagine him in the role until I saw him in the trailer, though (as borne out by my prior musings on this movie).

I suspect he will get an Academy Award nomination, if not win. I've not seen any other acting as good this year.

Josh Brolin as assassin Dan Brown does a great job from what can be seen here, too. There has been a lot of buzz about the quality of his acting, too.

In the trailer, there are some touching scenes and some that make you laugh.

Now I wish it would come out in October instead of November, after the election. It might change some minds about the debate over "family values".

It helps to see the arguments in their early days. They were devoid of truth and justice then, as they are now. It is amazing that we keep spinning our wheels politically. Except however fast they spin, we seem to be moving forward, however slowly it seems to us.

Exposing the Wizard of "Uh's"

Campbell Brown officially broke rank and engaged in honest journalism on September 1, 2008. It took seven years, but the media finally seems to be shaking free of the self-doubting headlock that Republicans put them in after 9/11.

Campbell dares to ask substantive questions and press Tucker Bounds, the McCain campaign spokesperson, to substantiate the fantastical claims the campaign is making about Gov. Sarah Palin's foreign policy experience. In particular she asked Tucker to give examples of what she did as Commander-in-chief of the Alaska National Guard. She was very polite, but asked for just one example.

Tucker stuck to his talking points, but it was obvious that he hadn't any examples. He didn't know any more about Palin than the rest of us did.

The next day, the Republican attack machine was out in force. They were already worked up over the press daring to look too closely at Palin's daughter's illegitimate pregnancy. Brown's example of honest journalism was just too much for them.

With all the shrill rhetoric, shrieking and knashing of teeth, it all boiled down to, "Ignore the man behind the curtain."

The "wizard" of the Republican Party has been exposed for all its empty assertions and outright lies. The American people see them for the charlatans they are now.

Kudos to Campbell Brown for having the brass balls to do her job. Why has it taken so long?

In San Francisco, One Day You're In, the Next, You're Down and Out!

Although I've been "Auf'd" from San Francisco's city limits, I still love the city. Today I finally found my favorite story that describes San Francisco's uniqueness.

As you may recall, I have one for Phoenix, where the soccer mom returns fire with the pistol from her purse when a gang opens fire on her husband and her on Baseline Road. I couldn't find a good one for San Francisco, until today.

In the comments to a story about Mayor Gavin Newsom being given an award by Time Magazine, a commenter posted this:

The East Coast media never quite gets a handle on San Francisco's uniqueness. I was visiting SFO once, and threw on some ratty clothes to go out and grab the morning newspaper. As I walked by a woman who had been sleeping in a store doorway, she looks me up and down and snorts: "Nice sweats!".

You gotta love a city where the homeless are fashion critics. And good ones, at that.

Yeah, any one of San Francisco's homeless could sit in as the guest judge on Project Runway, adroitly rip into the designers for their rotten fashion sense until they cry, hit up Heidi Klum for clean needles, shake down Michael Kors for change, read Nina Garcia for being a "snooty bitch", all while guzzling an "upscale" 40 in a "designer" paper bag, without breaking a sweat during the inevitable saturated burp.

Now that's San Francisco. Classy.

You Dirty, Dirty, Filthy, Rotten Piece of Politics!

Oh, Politics. What is it about you that attracts mudslinging? Do you think it flatters your dirty, rotten slut of a face? Or does the mud appeal to your hermaphroditic character? Two bits and you're anyone's, really.

Lest we think that dirty politics, replete with racism, misogyny and homophobia, originated with our political generation, it turns out that the art of Rovian political slurs has been around as long as the republic.

CNN has this piece on the dirty campaign between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson in 1800 and the even more vitriolic campaign of 1828 between John Quincy Adams and Andrew Jackson .

Racial slurs were used against Jefferson, about whom, it was suggested, had both American Indian and African American heritage. In fact, they used the "S" word to describe his "half-breed" mother.

In turn, Jefferson said that Adams had a hermaphroditic personality and, worse yet, that he lacked the better qualities of either gender, despite his sexually ambiguous character. That just got things rolling with both sides casting aspersions on the other.

Even Martha Washington climbed into the mud-wrestling pit, stating that Jefferson was, really, just the worst type of person. Clearly, she did not have a firm handle on the art of the slur.

By 1828, things were no better. Mud was slung with vitriol in this presidential race. John Quincy Adams, President Adams son, was called a pimp. He, in turn, called Andrew Jackson's wife a slut.

To be fair, that probably wasn't entirely mud. In fact, Jackson should have known better than play the sexual morality card.

For the time, Rachel Jackson was a big ol' tart. She left or was thrown out by her first husband in 1788 and moved in with relatives. She eventually moved in with Jackson around 1790. The couple claimed that they were married in 1791 although no record of it exists.

Her first husband filed for a divorce in 1792 on the grounds of desertion, which was granted in 1793. Andrew and Rachel then married "again" in 1794. That means that the two most likely "lived in sin" for four years, or were bigamists for three.

Mudslinging or not, Q wasn't above using it to his political advantage in the hotly contested race. "Ought a convicted adulteress and her paramour husband to be placed in the highest offices of this free and Christian land?" It's mud that would bring a tear to Karl Rove's eye.

John Quincy Adam's campaign went further stating that Jackson's mother was a prostitute brought to America by the British military to service the enlisted men.

Oh, snap, bitch! Apparently, she wasn't good enough for the British officers.

Who knew that illegal immigration was an issue back then? Q's campaign also intimated that Jackson's racial heritage was less than "pure" on his father's side.

In the end, the voters could connect to Jackson, while they felt that Adams was elitist, what with his fancy education and trip around Europe, none of which Jackson enjoyed.

Plus, the voters felt cheated in the previous election when Jackson won the popular vote, but lost the electoral college vote. Jackson won the 1828 election.

Scoring

Points to the elitist Jefferson for using wit with his mud-slinging, even if the bulk of the largely illiterate voters had no idea what a hermaphrodite was. Only he could have come up with the idea that Adams had a "hideous hermaphroditical character, which has neither the force and firmness of a man, nor the gentleness and sensibility of a woman."

Oscar Wilde couldn't have done better. He implies that Adams is homosexual without actually saying so. To further solidify his claim to dirty politics king, he managed to use a misogynistic stereotype that withstood the test of time.

John Quincy Adams also deserves a shout out. His prissy, bitchy slur about Jackson's mother is pure poetry made of mud. It wasn't enough that she was a sex worker, no, she was a common sex worker, throwing social class about in a theretofore-presumed classless society.

It brings a tear to one's eye to see what a "Christian nation" can do when it puts its mind to it. Misogyny, racism and homophobia have been slung about since the beginning. We've come so far only to find ourselves back where we began.

Biden My Time

Presidential candidate, Sen. Barack Obama, selected Sen. Joe Biden to be his running mate today, to which I say, "Meh!" What a lukewarm piece of slush of a choice.

Instead, he should have chosen Madeleine Albright as his VP, or another woman with foreign policy experience with the ability to be a graceful attack dog to his critics. He would have solidified his base with the disappointed Clinton voters and brought heft and credibility to his ticket for swing voters.

Now it is up to Sen. John McCain to do the obvious and select a woman VP for his ticket.

Obama's selection of Biden makes me question again if Obama has the political prowess to win this election.

UPDATED UPDATE: Now that John McCain picked Gov. Sarah Palin as his running-mate, I realize that I should have been more specific. By suggesting that it is the obvious choice to pick a woman, I mean someone along the lines of Olympia Snow or Kay Bailey Hutchinson. Had he picked either of them, this would be a horse race. Now it is just a sad, sad exercise to a foregone conclusion.

UPDATE: Biden accepted the nomination for VP tonight. I have to admit he has a compelling backstory. I still prefer Madeleine Albright.

RIP, Bitch!

Nothing brings tears to the eyes quite like a warm-hearted soul-gouging cat-fight obituary. Dolores Aquilar made the mistake of forgetting that those who survive you get to pen the biography - or at least the obituary through which history will remember you.

Apparently, Dolores was a bitch. She wasn't "meh"; she wasn't so-so.

Nope. No other word for it, she was a cold-hearted, nothing-good-to-say bitch who treated her family badly. And her family totally went there in the obituary.

Check out the verbage. One can only presume that she abhorred wire hangers.

Now doesn't that just bring a tear to the corner of your eye? From laughter? Too soon?

(If you thought that the picture is of Dolores Aguilar, turn in your gay icon merit badge! That is Joan Crawford.)

Gayranimal Kingdom

The Castro is aflame with controversy. Tourist buses have discovered the Castro. The native gays are not happy about it.

The Ungay disembark like zombies, gawk at the gays holding hands as though they are zoo animals, take a few pics, and don't bother to spend any money. Further, they feel compelled to hold hands with persons of the opposite sex to demonstrate that they are heterosexual.

The gays are not having this. The normally ultra-friendly San Francisco vibe is strained. No one wants the already crowded sidewalks clogged with tourists who mill about and block the way.

We like to keep the bulk of them where they belong - safely tucked away from the natives in places such as the Wharf, Chinatown (Grant Street only, please) and, if they must, Union Square. Besides, we have sidewalk blockers already - our local homeless "vendors".

Of course, tourists who act respectfully and spend a little money in the neighborhood are always welcome. Just not bus loads full of the other kind.

The neighborhood has petitioned the city to remove the one "Coach" parking area removed. Unfortunately, that will take three months to get the zone change made and posted.

In the meantime, the community is considering self-help. There are calls for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence to take the matter into their capable hands. There is not a camera-wielding tourist who has the resolve to take on a six-foot drag queen nun on a rampage. (Sister Roma pictured.)

Although I suspect that may make them just take more pictures.

So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

It has been a crazy month. I'm having to sell everything and move back with the 'rent. It has been a wonderful year in San Francisco. I wish I'd have been able to find a job and stay. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

So I bid my favorite city goodbye.

So long and thanks for all the fish!