Tag Archives: San Francisco

Summer Holiday Day 8: Eve of Departure

2 Jun

If I had forgotten how lame San Francisco was, then this trip served as a reminder. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it has gotten lamer since I last visited. San Francisco sucks. The same things I’d thought about Vancouver years ago apply to San Francisco. The women here are ugly. Most of the pretty ones have ugly souls, are too uptight, or are men. There is always some form of (human?) feces to look out for on the sidewalks and streets.

All the jokes about the town being taken over by awkward techie bros are true. Think of a new computer or phone app and you can bet the headquarters is based here in the bay. As a straight male who enjoys cities with a vibrant night life and true ethnic and cultural diversity, there is no reason for me to return here for free. If I ever come back, you better believe there is some money in it for me.

Oakland on the other hand is a city that resonates with me. A walk around Lake Merritt reminded me how much I love being in the East Bay. It’s always sunnier on this side of the bridge. People have more style and pizzazz here. The food is better, and slightly less expensive. It is just easier for me to breathe coming out of that tube into the bright sunshine of Oakland’s shipyards.

I do like Berkeley, but it seems so neutered compared to Oakland’s edgier neighborhoods. I have the feeling that the differences between the communities will decrease as the tech industry’s influences keep seeping in. Housing prices are steady going up, and the absurdity of food and entertainment is laughable. If you live here long enough you lose your basis for comparison.It is only when you leave for a long period of time and come back that makes you question paying 11 dollars for a goddamn sandwich.

I’m glad I moved here ten years ago. It is impossible to imagine my life without the people I met during my time on the west coast. It certainly chilled me out living in a region with so much natural beauty, but the reasons for coming back are decreasing with time.

This week: Portland and an appearance onĀ “Who’s the Ross?”. Week 2 and still a lot left to do–like pack for Portland.

Peace.

BM

The Cult of Black Phillip

26 Jan

It’s been almost 4 years since Patrice O’Neal’s death in 2011.

I met him twice at the Punchline in San Francisco, when I was a (mostly) open mic comedian. The first time I saw him perform, I was so blown away at the realness of his set, that I could not have a coherent conversation with the guy. The deadpan expression he had his face indicated that I was sounding like a fanboy, as I found it hard to express how important it was to hear him say the very things I’d only begun recently to think.

My homie Greg Edwards got me on the guest list a couple of years later, when he opened up for Patrice, and I was shocked when he remembered me and started a conversation (maybe it helped that I had a cute woman with me–a platonic friend but he didn’t know that).

He fucked the whole room up, and I knew he was killing it because my girl was crying she was laughing so hard. All those dark and sinister thoughts you’ve ever considered were brought to light by Patrice’s stand-up. He was the truth because he spoke the truth. There was this clever and twisted insight to his jokes–which really just seemed like commentary. Whether you like him or not, the fact was that if you watched the man work, you were never the same afterwards. The man understood human nature like no other comic I’d encountered.

About a year and a half ago, I was looking up some of his shit on Youtube and I randomly ran into some of his podcast archives online. There are only 15 episodes (at most) of this show he ran with Dante Nero called, “The Black Phillip Show.”

It was a relationship advice show that went way beyond anything you could imagine. Feminists would probably regard the show as some misogynistic “Dear Abby” shit, but it was more like some Dr. Phil (hence the name of the show).
Every show, there would be at least one female guest on, and Patrice would just eviscerate these women with his passionate logic.

It’s worth checking out for sure

He’ll really fuck you up with his logic. For example, Patrice has this special ratings scale for women that I attempted my senior year in high school. Now I thought back then (1997) that I was doing some revolutionary shit by creating a chart that graded on a 10 point spectrum. the categories were (don’t laugh) LEGS (3 points) , T & A (4 points), and face(3 points).

Stupid system right? It definitely wasn’t clever by any means, and certainly not worth the crap I took when girls at my school found out they were on a list (kinda like when I made a top 25 in junior high).

Well Mr. O’Neal’s system is slightly more sophisticated than that without the mini categories.

His scale is 1-30. 1-10 is for ugly chicks with 1 being the ugliest ugly chick, and 10 being the hottest an ugly chick can be.

An 11-20 rating was reserved for average to averagely good looking women, or as he calls them “alright looking bitches.” An alright looking alright bitch” is 11, a “fine ass alright bitch” would get a 20.

21-30 is the highest raking group reserved for “fine ass bitches.” An ugly ass fine bitch gets relegated to a score of 21, while a 30 is given to what men usually call dime pieces.

The whole point of his scale it to lend perspective on what we observe as a woman’s beauty. A 1-10 scale is highly restrictive. With only 10 points to give a grade, a lot of women get lumped into a really high or really low grade because of the need to jam them into a rating.

There are not as many perfect looking women (by conventional standards) out there as people would like to believe. The same can be said of the least aesthetically pleasing women out there in the world. Most women fall in between and that area of gray is a lot larger than a 1-10 scale can provide.

Hearing Patrice explain this during one of his stand-up shows, revealed the errors in my thinking about the opposite sex. It made me think of every girl I’d been physical with, and made me adjust how I thought about (handled) them. Say what you will about the guy, he will make you think.

He was honest, he was brave, and he was really fucking funny. The comedy world needs more comics like Patrice O’Neal; people who are capable of making an audience laugh and think. A lot of comics get on the mic and simply jerk off, wasting everyone’s time in the process because they lack a point of view.

But not Patrice; he didn’t have a whole of time in the mainstream spotlight, but he made use of every minute. I still go back from time to time and pull up his podcasts on Youtube–just to have something different to listen to when I fall asleep. The guy just had a firm handle on what it meant to be human, and he wasn’t afraid to talk about it. He was that dude.

Root Root Root for the Home team

4 Nov

Let me start off by saying I’m very proud of the Texas Rangers. I grew up a Cowboys fan and was 14 the first time we won a Super Bowl. It was a big deal. I lived in Dallas for three Super Bowl wins.

It was cool, but after the first one, everyone always expected the Boys to win. We were used to it. Texas is a football state. And Dallas was a Dynasty even before I was born. My dad and my uncles were alive when they won titles in the 70’s.

They always told me stories of when they were great. Legends of Tony Dorsett, Randy White, Ed “Too Tall” Jones, Roger Staubach, Cliff Harris, Mel Renfro.

And because of that I was just waiting my turn for my own moments to witness “Super Bowl Greatness” and in 1992 it came.

But I never in my life imagined or dreamed that there was a chance the Rangers would ever make it to the World Series in my lifetime.

Well I realized a couple of weeks ago, that truly anything is possible.

I was rooting for the Mavs in ’06 and I ‘d have been happy if they’d have won. But I’ve never really been a Mavs fan like I was Rangers and Boys, they just sucked too much during my formative sports years. They were atrocious. The joke around Dallas was that they’d win less games than the Dallas Cowboys. In fact I think they won one more game I think in 1993. They were terrible.

So when I started watching basketball my favorite player was Philly’s Charles Barkley and when he got traded to the Suns I rooted for them and the New York Knicks (for whatever reason I really liked Xavier McDaniel who played for them then–plus I hated Jordan)

But before the Cowboys became relevant again, I was in love with the loveable losers, the Texas Rangers. They were always a pitcher or two from making some noise in the AL West (this was back when the A’s won the division every year for like six straight years)

They always had the bats but never enough pitching and always lacked the fielders. But they were charming. I used to go to old Arlington Stadium. My first game there was a double header experience with Nolan Ryan pitching the nightcap after Charlie Hough pitched during the day game. We brought food and drinks into the bleachers and it was a big party. Wally Joyner and Dave Winfield played for the Angels back then–as did Luis Polonia.

This was 1989. I spent the next 6 summers in agaony watching those guys lose. But they had personalities and good players and would score 8 runs but give up 11.

But Nolan then was the big draw. Everything he did was legendary. No hitters, big curveballs for strikeouts and high heat. I remember him striking out Wade Boggs four times in a game once. It was incredible.

A true Texas Legend

Every fifth day was pure excitement. What was going to happen? What milestone were we going to see? Who could he strike out next? Alomar? Bo? Rickey? If I didn’t watch many games, I always made sure to tune in when Nolan pitched. The Rangers (and baseball) were a bigger part of my teenage years than anything else.

I even had my senior prom at The Ballpark in Arlington. Where I spent half of it looking out at the field in awe instead of dancing.

They finally made the playoffs in 96 and I was on board but the Yankees then stood in our way and the extra round of playoffs seemed to cheapen the whole affair for me. So it didn’t hurt at all during those years. I was heavy into my own life and there was the strike of ’94 and I had bigger fish to fry at that point. College was looming and as well as the necessity of getting out of my Dad’s house.

So I kept up with them but always at a distance and I didn’t even watch baseball for at least a couple of years. I knew they were good this year but in the back of my mind was a wait and see approach. They had to get through the summer first, then past the first round to peak my interest.

And sure enough they did. And sure enough they did again. And sure enough they did again.

I watched World Series and rooted for other teams and it was always great when someone beat the Yankees but it wasn’t until last month when I really understood what its like to see your hometown actually get “in.”

I almost cried after the last Yankee out. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
And it’s only now that I really understand. And its really changed my perspective on what it means to be a sports fan. I can root against the Lakers and root for the Celtics because they have a lot fo my favorite players. I was extremely happy when the Celts won the title in ’08. Because it was against the Lakers and because I liked the Celtics team.

But it wasn’t nearly the sense of satisfaction of seeing my hometown Rangers win against the dreaded Yankees (the team that always drubbed us in the mid ’90s). I felt like I had a stake in the team’s destiny. I felt like they’d won it for my grandmother who didn’t quite make it to see our favorite team make the World Series.

This girl at my job is a Yankees fan and and she’s not from New York. She’s from Tulsa. If they ‘d have won, she’d have been happy but how happy could she have been in comparison to sombeone who’s hometown wins? She’s never even been to New York. She has no real stake in it other than hating Texas (and why would anyone hate Texas? It’s the greatest country in the world)

It aint the same man. Not even close.

Now I know what it feels like to root for my home team in the World Series and now I know how it feels to be dealt a crushing blow when that World Series opponent hits a game winning home run. It hurts. And I felt it immediately, but also I felt grateful just to be in the position to feel that pain–kinda like yer first true love and consequent heartbreak.

And it hurt to see the Giants celebrate the title. It hurt almost as badly as when the Niners took the title away from the Cowboys in 1994.
(And now I have even more reasons to hate the city of San Francisco. And I thought it was because they’re stuck up and pretentious– but it runs deeper than that doesn’t it?)

Watching those teams celebrate was like watching my worst enemy get married to my one true love, and having to watch helplessly from the pews.

All you kept hearing was how SF was a baseball town and how there was gonna be a huge party when they won. I’m sorry. I’m calling bullshit. I’ve spent lots of time in San Francisco and I know their definition of a party.

It involves a lot of wine and a little bit of dope and everyone leaves around 11pm , and the party dies down around 1:15 and then people go to sleep. Fuck that. THey don’t know what partying is. I’m from Texas and I went to college in Denton and in Austin. I know a good party when I attend one and I can honeslty say that they do not know how to party in San Fran. (L.A. maybe but that usually involves cocaine–and that to me is cheating)

I’m proud of my boys though. I just wanted them to beat the Yankees and everything else was a bonus. I can’t say they’ll be back because you never know. But I thoroughly enjoyed this playoff run and I’m grateful that the Rangers gave me a reason to tune into baseball again. Congratulations on a great season fellas.

Our first true ace since the legendary Nolan Ryan

Mick

Eve of Departure XVII (Spilled Milk)

14 Aug

If it's going to be that type of party I'm sticking my dick in the mashed potatoes.

If it's going to be that type of party I'm sticking my dick in the mashed potatoes.

I leave tomorrow to go back home to Dallas, Texas for the weekend.

I’m excited. I love Texas even more now that I don’t live there. Its a weird thing. I never really got any state pride until I left. Its a great place to be from.

I’ve been thinking long and hard about getting the state tattoed on my body somewhere……maybe my right pectoral or something, with a little blue star where Dallas is……

Anyway, I’ll be there just enough to soak it up and leave right before I get sick of it. Dallas sucks. As far as cities go…..my favorites are
Portland, San Francisco bay, NYC, Austin, Eugene, and Toronto.

I’d prefer Denton to Dallas anyday but I guess there’d be no Denton withotu Dallas would there???

As a city it just isn’t sustainable. Public transit should be way better for the amount of people who live in the metroplex. And the education system has never recovered from when the DAllas Independent School System shut down for a bit, rather than integrate during the sixties.

But I still love it. Its home. Its where my family is. Anyway I’m going back so my family can finally throw the party they’ve been waiting for the past 12 years to throw, my graduation party.

When I finished high school in 1997, I had no idea my life would take the crazy turns it did. Hell the last five years of my life has been a crazy ride in itself, but that’s for another time isn’t it?

I’m loooking forward to seeing the folks, hanging out, seeing a couple of old friends, and maybe even watching a little cable. If I’m lucky, I’ll have time to drink some whiskey with some old school fools ya know?

I feel good. Best I’ve felt in a couple of weeks. I’ve been mildly depressed dealing with the Toronto saga. But i’m okay now. A little drink and a lotta country music does wonders for the spirit.

When you go that deeply with someone and have nothing to show for it, it sucks. Something I always try to avoid when entering into any relationship, but you can only control what you do.

When friends turn out to not be friends, its a special kind of hurt and takes time to digest. Hard not to turn to cyniscm and distrust. My defense mechanism is humor of course, and so I tried to turn this negative into a positive; attempting a humorous spin on these events.

I hope I succeeded. I didn’t want it to be a whiny rant, but I also wanted to honest about the situation. Everyone has gotta paly the fool sometimes. At least that’s what I heard.

Also I only wanted to talk about it in detail once, and not mention it again. So when people ask what happened with that I can just direct them to the blog post.

The female in question read it and wasn’t pleased and she wants me to take the post down……..I’m kind of torn….although the situation is fucked up, the post itself is something I’m proud of……..

I have the weekend to think it over, and hopefully there won’t be a lawsuit waiting for me when I get back to Tulsa.

I feel good though, just laughed my ass of watching Tropic Thunder, feeling good and confident about my future. I’ve got good family, good friends, I’m handsome, smart, and funny. So it certainly won’t be a problem getting what I want out of life will it?

Eventually I’ll meet other women (although I’m seriously considering being celibate for the rest of the year) and if I don’t meet any soon, that’s fine too.

I’ve got lots of books, music to listen to, and whiskey to drink. Perhaps a woman would just ruin it.