A GOOD Majority of you have e-mailed echoing my sentiments about the morning travesty currently infecting Bay Area radio. I feel your pain.
We have a common bond. Our once-beloved radio legacy stations have been kidnapped by non-radio people who don't know the people business. They are financial Neanderthals bound by their shareholders and beholden to a business model that caters to the type of audio morass we're subjected to on a daily basis.
Get thirty bucks a month into the budget and switch to satellite. It'll cleanse your palate.
*Downtown was a mess Thursday night --combine a Giants game, afternoon-evening commute and the every night chaos around Moscone Center which seems to get more clogged by the day. I popped over to North Beach and every place was packed. Original Joe's has become destination central but too many people at the bar and every table, (as usual), was packed to the rafters--it was as if they were giving the food away. Fat Tony Labrene was holding court at the center of the dining room which got progressively more louder and crowded. I was debating on whether to order a hamburger to go but I wanted to sit down and relax. It's been a long, arduous week so I decided to wait and be patient and got a spot at the end of the bar and watched the Giants do their thing. Congratulations are in order: the burger was delicious, as usual, and the Giants have prevailed. Somehow, someway, although this bizarre one-game play-in is sort of weird and crappy, but hey they're in. My beloved Oakland A's have entered into the abyss so go ahead and gloat. Another few million or two for Larry Baer, party hardy.
*I miss old San Francisco. I miss seeing the old SF cops congregate around Geno and Carlo. I miss the old "Streets of SF" vibe that permeated the city from the 70's when I grew up until today, only today, the city has lost its soul. Remember when Herb Caen used to complain about how SF was being Manhattanized? Wonder what Herb would say today. The towering mess. The techies have overtaken the city to the point where the uniqueness, the originality of the town is all but lost. Sure, it's a cliche to lump all the geeks together as one but care to offer anything else to the contrary? They have no manners too. Just the other night I was at Boulevard and saw some bozo brain doofus plop his laptop on the bar. Huh? I look at him like, "excuse me but what the hell are you doing?"--He gives me a look like, "uh, what, 'is there a problem?"-- You're damn right there's a problem!, I mutter. But I better calm down and not make a scene, --to top things off I look at the bartender and he gives me a look like, "hey, what am I supposed to do?" My god we're at Boulevard--can you believe it. That's why they have a Starbucks but doofus behind the bar couldn't figure it out--out the door and off to the civility of Tadich where they do all the right things. I should know by now. Tadich. Food always consistent and good. Check. Waiters know their shit and still wear the white uniforms. Check. Order the grilled halibut. Check. Loaf of bread and extra butter. Check. I know, just what I need, but it's my life and life is good when you get to eat at Tadich because they make it routine--they still check on you all the time, even the grumpy bastard who's been there a hundred years. Tadich is old-school San Francisco. Union too, I believe the only union restaurant left in the city--wait, maybe John's Grill too, someone help...Anyway, Tadich is everything what's right in the city. The food is still damned good and the prices are still reasonable and NO, I didn't get a freebie, I PAY for my food. Only Caen got that perk and he earned it. Tadich actually gives you real food, REAL portions too, not some tiny scallop on a dish for $127 like the idiotic trendies around the corner.
*I'm officially middle-aged. Ouch. Feel like 1987 still but it's 2014. Yikes. Still bitchin' and moaning, sure because every middle-aged Jewish guy likes to bitch and moan. About everything, sure and I have enough ammo to prove it. Look beside you at the schlum in the office. Attitude central, thinks he's the star of the party because he stood in line for 16 hours to get an IPhone 6 or 7plus whatever, which by the way, doesn't work. Good investment. $400 down the drain, but I digress. WE all need to calm down and check our IPhones 6plus, 7, 8, 9Deluxe, Droid Schmoid at the door. Seriously, it's reached crisis proportions. Anyone left in this mess of a world have MANNERS?, raise your hand. Have we all just gone to the shitter and don't give a damn anymore? I'm 52. I know many of you hate my guts and you have plenty of ammo, speaking of ammo, but I feel lost. Maybe I had a nightmare and dreamed I was a part of the KNBR Morning Show or something but I feel a detachment, help me out here, all of you.
*I love the Bay Area. The people? Uh, well that's another story altogether. The women are all impossible here, you know that, right? I've finally come to the conclusion that it's IMPOSSIBLE to meet a single, available 35 year-old woman who isn't as fucked up as I am. I met a woman named Pamela at the bar --she's mildly attractive and funny. I'm interested. We have an innocuous conversation and the obligatory guffaws commence: "Hi, new here?...yada, yada, yada." I should know by now that this is not going to work. It NEVER does. Shit, I'm 52 and trying to converse with this late-thirties shiksa. (For you gentiles, google shiksa, it's not a bad word). She's talking with me and I'm talking with her. I politely inquire as to what she does and she looks at me as if I'm from Pluto, like it's against the law to make inquires, 'cmon! She works in sales, I finally get an answer which is great because there's some momentum starting to take shape--she's starting to giggle, good sign I guess but she's also got a ring on, shit! Oh, not so fast. She's divorced. She wears the ring to protect herself from the human shlumpos like me, at least that's why I tell her. MASSIVE LAUGHTER! "You are sooooooo funny!" Ha Ha Ha, well yeah, it's called being human and having a pulse I tell here. BONUS: You know Pammy, I'm even better: a certified heterosexual too! More laughter. Keep in mind too she's only had one glass of wine so I'm crossing my fingers and hoping to get at least a card. She interrupts me and asks me why I'm so jumpy. JUMPY? Me, jumpy? We'll, for one I'm suspicious. Pam: "Richard, why are you suspicious?" We'll, Pam, for one, you're hanging around me, that automatically makes me suspicious. Here: nervous laughter. Damn! Why do I always screw it up! Anyway, Pam is looking at her watch. Bad sign. I'm a little antsy myself. She asks for a card. Lovely. Kiss of death. Swears that she will call which means she'll never call but I hand her the card. "Can I have your card?" She obliges. I look at the number and it says "555-5555"--we'll actually no but it might as well have because I have no chance and no, I'm not talking about pillow dreams. Pam called and asked about a date. A real date. I'll spare you the details unless something great happens. Like I said, I have mucho cynicism these days but I shall try to front an optimistic look. My gut tells me Pam will end up telling me she's into Scientology, has a cat, and thinks Noah's bagels are good. Story of my life.
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