District Attorney Kamala Harris is not long for the world of San Francisco. She's already filed papers to run for Attorney General, and it's no secret she may be tapped to be part of President Obama's Justice Dept. in Washington. Former prosecutor Bill Fazio, who opposed Harris in a bitter race for D.A. in 2003, wasted no time in expressing an interest in getting Mayor Gavin Newsom to appoint him D.A. when Kamala leaves the post. "I'd like to help the mayor," says Fazio. "He could use some serious professional help in the area of law enforcement." As a prosecutor, Fazio garnered a good reputation for putting killers behind bars. ...
Travus T. Hipp was an insurgent voice on the old KSAN free-form radio station in the early 1970s. Recently Travus has had a bad time in Nevada City where he spent 12 nights sleeping on a concrete jail cell floor after being busted for growing medical marijuana for his various ailments, including diabetes and gastro-intestinal trouble. "It's the fifth time they raided me," Travus said on the phone. "The Lyon County (Nevada) Drug Squad has charged me with a series of felonies for growing medical marijuana. It's an insane scene, but the laws just don't conform up here." It seems there's a Detective Sherlock (his real name) who has it in for Travus. He needs help for his legal defense fund. Donations can be sent to Cabale News, P.O. Box 31, Silver City, NV., 89428. ...
The economy is bad. How bad is it? Ask Jay Leno. "It's SO bad that the women in Hollywood? The breasts are real and the jewelry is fake." ... "I write the jokes around here," Maurice Kanbar is fond of saying. He also mixes the drinks. Maurice was in Perry's the other day, showing off his new vodka, Blue Angel (he invented Skyy Vodka, and sold it a few years back to Campari International). He was shaking his Blue Angel with Blue Curaçao. Surely a cure for the blues. Vodka always does well in bad times. By the way, Katya Smirnoff-Skyy is starring in A Red Christmas at The New Conservatory Theatre Centre, 25 Van Ness, Dec. 10-20. ... Blue is the right color for John Sebastian, who played with David Grisman to a sell-out crowd in Kanbar Hall at the Jewish Community Center last month. The lads were on a 12-city tour. "It's so great to be here, and out of the red states," Sebastian sighed. ...
The election is over -- well, almost -- but you may have heard the Prop 8 battle is not. Rod McKuen wants it known that he's mad as hell. Much of his anger is directed at the Salt Lake City-based Mormon Church for its support of the measure. "I plan to organize a boycott of Utah and Utah-related businesses," Rod e-mails. "Marriott, JetBlue, Albertsons, Ralphs & Dell Computers to name just some. I have more than a few friends in L.A. who might help me boycott the Sundance Film Festival. It's a start. ... Preachers preached from the pulpit about how to vote. They can't have it both ways. Tax exemptions should be revoked for those churches that participated. I know I'll get plenty of hate mail, but what are they going to do to me -- kill my career? At 75, I don't think so." ... I'm amazed that churches apparently spent as much as $20-million to pass Prop 8 while food banks have nothing to offer hungry people during the holidays but empty shelves. Something's gone wrong here. ...
John's Grill on Ellis Street, famous for being the site where Dashiell Hammett would dash off pages of The Maltese Falcon between highballs, celebrated its 100th anniversary last month by giving away martinis to the huddled masses yearning to drink free. ... Enrico's had its 50th birthday on Nov. 28 with the inimitable Mal Sharpe keeping the crowd entertained as he always does. ... I was moved by NBC anchorman Lester Holt's unusual homage to his mother on Election Night as he described her tears of joy on hearing of Obama's victory. (I was working at KCBS when Lester was hired as a 19-year old reporter. Even then, he was a solid pro.) He quoted his mom as saying she never thought she'd live to see a black man in the White House. Even the stoic Mr. Holt got choked up. Who wouldn’t? It was quite a night. ...
Norm Howard, who was for decades the morning voice on KQED-FM, observes, "Recent unfortunate financial events, of which you may have heard, have reduced me from a wealthy retiree to an elderly shut-in." His fans may be heartened to know that Norm hasn't been changed a bit by retirement, his ennui is intact. ... Norm Goldblatt, the most erudite of comics, also feels the pinch: "PG&E's getting stingy. My neighbor turned on his 2-thousand-watt Christmas lights and my electric menorah dimmed. Have my people not suffered enough?"
And I'll leave it at that. ...
Bruce Bellingham often wanders around town looking for items for this column. You could say he meanders. You could say he's a Meanderthal. You could e-mail him with an item and keep the lad off the streets for everyone's peace of mind. Bellingham's e-mail is bruce@northsidesf.com
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Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Adios, George Bush, And 2008, Too
This year isn't really coming to an end. It's more like a crash-landing. On New Year's Day, we'll get out of bed, count the survivors, and press on bravely.
I don't suppose it's a time for looking back. But I cannot resist. We have entered the airspace of Obama, and have broken away from the tractor beam of Bush. Before we hang a shining star upon the highest bough, allow me to recall some of the great moments of the Bush years.
Merry Christmas to New Orleans, to the victims of Katrina. I hope they all got voodoo dolls this year for protection. It's a wonderful city, and deserved better protection than it got. I'm sure a vague memory lingers of "You're Doin' A Heck of a Job, Brownie!" That was a reference to Bush's political pal, Michael Brown, whom Bush appointed head of FEMA. You can't slight Georgie for not putting his friends before the national interest or of competency. That's called loyalty. To something, certainly not the oath of office. I'm also thinking of loyal friends, such as, Harriet Miers ... Alberto Gonzales ... the pharmaceutical industry ... that brilliant strategist Rumsfeld, and Dick Cheney, King of the Wild Frontier. Mission Accomplished.
They all give the term fiasco new meaning.
The Northside's Sharon Anderson ran into Gore Vidal in Los Angeles one day not long ago and asked him, "Do you think Karl Rove will ever get what's coming to him?"
Vidal simply smiled, and intoned, "Oh, I think he and the rest of them will simply end up in the dustbin of history."
That's right. Tossed out, along with yesterday's Freedom Fries.
Ah, but I don't want to devote this space to lolling about in bitterness over the past, though that's a particular pleasure of mine. It's a time to look forward. We finally have a new president after an excruciating eight years. Obama appears to be as brilliant as Bush was blundering and belligerent. Obama seems to inspire, not isolate. He's the one who doesn't seem bitter at all. On the contrary, he's making the effort to be conciliatory to people who treated him viciously. The election could have turned out differently. That's too murky too contemplate.
So let's have ourselves a merry little Christmas, and celebrate other assorted holidays of our choice in our respective, downsized sort of way. Surely there's still plenty of space in our hearts for hope. Still there's that strange drive in some of us who've been badly battered this year to brush the dust from the dustbin off, and start all over again.
Bruce Bellingham also writes for the Marina Times. He pretends he's The Christmas Curmudgeon but we suspect that he really does like the holidays. He's been observed year after year at the lighting ceremony at Huntington Park, looking misty-eyed when the S.F. Girls Chorus sings its carols. Be sure to ridicule this lapse into sentimentality by writing to him at bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
I don't suppose it's a time for looking back. But I cannot resist. We have entered the airspace of Obama, and have broken away from the tractor beam of Bush. Before we hang a shining star upon the highest bough, allow me to recall some of the great moments of the Bush years.
Merry Christmas to New Orleans, to the victims of Katrina. I hope they all got voodoo dolls this year for protection. It's a wonderful city, and deserved better protection than it got. I'm sure a vague memory lingers of "You're Doin' A Heck of a Job, Brownie!" That was a reference to Bush's political pal, Michael Brown, whom Bush appointed head of FEMA. You can't slight Georgie for not putting his friends before the national interest or of competency. That's called loyalty. To something, certainly not the oath of office. I'm also thinking of loyal friends, such as, Harriet Miers ... Alberto Gonzales ... the pharmaceutical industry ... that brilliant strategist Rumsfeld, and Dick Cheney, King of the Wild Frontier. Mission Accomplished.
They all give the term fiasco new meaning.
The Northside's Sharon Anderson ran into Gore Vidal in Los Angeles one day not long ago and asked him, "Do you think Karl Rove will ever get what's coming to him?"
Vidal simply smiled, and intoned, "Oh, I think he and the rest of them will simply end up in the dustbin of history."
That's right. Tossed out, along with yesterday's Freedom Fries.
Ah, but I don't want to devote this space to lolling about in bitterness over the past, though that's a particular pleasure of mine. It's a time to look forward. We finally have a new president after an excruciating eight years. Obama appears to be as brilliant as Bush was blundering and belligerent. Obama seems to inspire, not isolate. He's the one who doesn't seem bitter at all. On the contrary, he's making the effort to be conciliatory to people who treated him viciously. The election could have turned out differently. That's too murky too contemplate.
So let's have ourselves a merry little Christmas, and celebrate other assorted holidays of our choice in our respective, downsized sort of way. Surely there's still plenty of space in our hearts for hope. Still there's that strange drive in some of us who've been badly battered this year to brush the dust from the dustbin off, and start all over again.
Bruce Bellingham also writes for the Marina Times. He pretends he's The Christmas Curmudgeon but we suspect that he really does like the holidays. He's been observed year after year at the lighting ceremony at Huntington Park, looking misty-eyed when the S.F. Girls Chorus sings its carols. Be sure to ridicule this lapse into sentimentality by writing to him at bruce@northsidesf.com
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The Year When Everything Changed
I used to refer to 1968 as the Year When Everything Changed. Then 2008 came along.
I imagine that in eras hence, historians will compare the years in terms of marking major upheavals in American history.
Forty years ago, the country was torn apart over the Viet Nam War, and the struggle over civil rights. The year brought the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr., then Bobby Kennedy; the riots in Americans cities; the amazing psycho-drama madness of the Chicago Democratic National Convention that was played out on television. That 1968 event was so spooky that the Silent Majority voted the refurbished demagogue Nixon into office. His minions would rise another day to assist George W. Bush down the Rose Garden path of our destruction.
Of course I am biased on this point -- as I am biased on at least another. The popular music of the 60s was far more interesting than it is now. For those of us who were teenagers at the time, the music gave some us a way to participate, if we didn't feel like breaking windows or occupying a dean's office or getting our heads broken by a cop's baton. We'd smoke the obligatory marijuana, plug in our guitars, and get gigs for our band. I loved what was called "protest music." There was much more music and movies than politics in my young life. As I recall, no one was ever quiet. Maybe just an occasional, tender "Om," as prescribed by Allen Ginsberg. The gentle folkies had become rockers long before 1968. The volume and the violence had been turned up. Just for having a rock n' roll band, and singing "protest songs," I was hanged in effigy from my high school flag pole by members of the football team. Kid you not. This was over the Viet Nam War. It's quite an honor, I suppose, in retrospect. I can say that because I escaped with my life. There were protests everywhere -- and they had become brutal. In Paris, it was called "Days of Rage." In Czechoslovakia, it was "Prague Spring." In the U.S. there was rage over the war, racial inequality, police brutality, the conditions in Appalachia. But, believe me, no one was outraged about the condition of the stock market.
That was before America had absorbed its obsession with money.
This year, this country is at war on two fronts, we have some serious enemies to deal with, a new, young American leader has emerged, and the economy is collapsing. One thing is clear: nothing will be the same after 2008 either.
It's Another Year That Everything Changed.
To paraphrase Gavin Newsom, these changes will come "whether we like it or not!"
I often wondered what it was like for my parents to endure the really hard times -- the Great Depression, the Second World War, what it was like to ride the whirlwind. Their hard times certainly made my good times possible. I've had plenty of good times, many of us have enjoyed remarkably good times in these United States.
And even if the good times are over for a while, we can always figure out how to make some good times possible for the next group of kids who are coming along.
They'll have their own years that change everything, I hope, whether they like it or not. There will be plenty of things to not like. My advice to these young persons? If you don't want to make love, make noise.
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist fo the SF Northside, and author of Bellingham by the Bay. Talk to him sometime at bruce@northsidesf.com
#####
I imagine that in eras hence, historians will compare the years in terms of marking major upheavals in American history.
Forty years ago, the country was torn apart over the Viet Nam War, and the struggle over civil rights. The year brought the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr., then Bobby Kennedy; the riots in Americans cities; the amazing psycho-drama madness of the Chicago Democratic National Convention that was played out on television. That 1968 event was so spooky that the Silent Majority voted the refurbished demagogue Nixon into office. His minions would rise another day to assist George W. Bush down the Rose Garden path of our destruction.
Of course I am biased on this point -- as I am biased on at least another. The popular music of the 60s was far more interesting than it is now. For those of us who were teenagers at the time, the music gave some us a way to participate, if we didn't feel like breaking windows or occupying a dean's office or getting our heads broken by a cop's baton. We'd smoke the obligatory marijuana, plug in our guitars, and get gigs for our band. I loved what was called "protest music." There was much more music and movies than politics in my young life. As I recall, no one was ever quiet. Maybe just an occasional, tender "Om," as prescribed by Allen Ginsberg. The gentle folkies had become rockers long before 1968. The volume and the violence had been turned up. Just for having a rock n' roll band, and singing "protest songs," I was hanged in effigy from my high school flag pole by members of the football team. Kid you not. This was over the Viet Nam War. It's quite an honor, I suppose, in retrospect. I can say that because I escaped with my life. There were protests everywhere -- and they had become brutal. In Paris, it was called "Days of Rage." In Czechoslovakia, it was "Prague Spring." In the U.S. there was rage over the war, racial inequality, police brutality, the conditions in Appalachia. But, believe me, no one was outraged about the condition of the stock market.
That was before America had absorbed its obsession with money.
This year, this country is at war on two fronts, we have some serious enemies to deal with, a new, young American leader has emerged, and the economy is collapsing. One thing is clear: nothing will be the same after 2008 either.
It's Another Year That Everything Changed.
To paraphrase Gavin Newsom, these changes will come "whether we like it or not!"
I often wondered what it was like for my parents to endure the really hard times -- the Great Depression, the Second World War, what it was like to ride the whirlwind. Their hard times certainly made my good times possible. I've had plenty of good times, many of us have enjoyed remarkably good times in these United States.
And even if the good times are over for a while, we can always figure out how to make some good times possible for the next group of kids who are coming along.
They'll have their own years that change everything, I hope, whether they like it or not. There will be plenty of things to not like. My advice to these young persons? If you don't want to make love, make noise.
Bruce Bellingham is a columnist fo the SF Northside, and author of Bellingham by the Bay. Talk to him sometime at bruce@northsidesf.com
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Wednesday, November 12, 2008
If You're Looking for Bad News, You Will Not Find It Here
It is tempting for a newspaper writer to get in on the gloom and doom syndicate. There is no shortage of horror stories these days. There is no shortage of opinions about this crisis or that crisis. In that great movie, Network, Howard Beale (played by Peter Finch) the run-amuck TV anchor (and this was decades before Fox News) declaims, "Maybe I want to to be an angry prophet denouncing the hypocrisy of our time."
That's tempting, too. Maybe I want to be an angry prophet denouncing the hypocrisy of our time, as Paddy Chayevsky suggested.
Ah, but there's a hazard. It's difficult to denounce any hypocrisy without being hypocritical. So, I'll leave that to others. For now.
I hasten to add this is not a serious piece of writing. Nothing ponderous. Nothing pedantic. No punditry. So don't be scared. Don't race away. Stick around. Trust me. Honest. Can you lend me 39-billion dollars until payday? I'd like to say that I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take this anymore. Right. Sure. Take what? C'mon, the truth is that I'll have to take it -- whatever it is. I'll likely take it until the end of my days.
There are strange things that happen if you reside on this planet long enough until the end of your days. One part of getting older is observing that things often repeat themselves. Old jokes certainly come back. Here's one from the Great Depression. The rabblerouser is on a street corner soapbox, barking at the crowd: "Come the revolution, you'll be eating peaches and cream!" he shouts.
"But I don't like peaches and cream," a timid voice chirps up.
Fumes the firebrand: "You'll eat peaches and cream whether you like it or not!"
More personally, this memory came to me, thanks to John McCain and Sarah Palin, trying to sell their preposterous "maverick" schtick during the election season.
They reminded me of a TV show that I loved when I was a kid. It was called Maverick. I remember the great character actor, John Dehner, repeating the running gag: "If you can't trust your banker, who can you trust?"
Gee, that's got a contemporary -- and contemptible -- ring to it. Mavericks one and all.
Wait a moment. From me, I promise, no preaching, no polemics, no poking about things in which I have no business prodding about. Yes, I improperly ended a phrase with a preposition. That's about as a far as I go to provoke civil disobedience. For that, I deserve a pox on both my houses. Then again, my houses were repossessed. That reminds me that John McCain had some trouble with his campaign song. The Foo Fighters reclaimed "My Hero." I think he should have used that old tune, "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To." If he could only recall which home that was.
It's safe to say that this election season was a bad American dream, a protracted piece of perfidy. I'm thankful that it's over in time for Thanksgiving. I've never heard so many Americans say that they're moving to Canada as a result of the presidential election, whatever the outcome would be. Do you think Canada has enough room? For all the people who moved to Canada, come back soon. Everything's going to be all right. Besides, we're going to need your help when we start picking on some truly unfortunate people.
Bruce Bellingham is also a columnist for the SF Northside. Unlike Ringo Starr, he likes mail. Mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
That's tempting, too. Maybe I want to be an angry prophet denouncing the hypocrisy of our time, as Paddy Chayevsky suggested.
Ah, but there's a hazard. It's difficult to denounce any hypocrisy without being hypocritical. So, I'll leave that to others. For now.
I hasten to add this is not a serious piece of writing. Nothing ponderous. Nothing pedantic. No punditry. So don't be scared. Don't race away. Stick around. Trust me. Honest. Can you lend me 39-billion dollars until payday? I'd like to say that I'm mad as hell and I'm not gonna take this anymore. Right. Sure. Take what? C'mon, the truth is that I'll have to take it -- whatever it is. I'll likely take it until the end of my days.
There are strange things that happen if you reside on this planet long enough until the end of your days. One part of getting older is observing that things often repeat themselves. Old jokes certainly come back. Here's one from the Great Depression. The rabblerouser is on a street corner soapbox, barking at the crowd: "Come the revolution, you'll be eating peaches and cream!" he shouts.
"But I don't like peaches and cream," a timid voice chirps up.
Fumes the firebrand: "You'll eat peaches and cream whether you like it or not!"
More personally, this memory came to me, thanks to John McCain and Sarah Palin, trying to sell their preposterous "maverick" schtick during the election season.
They reminded me of a TV show that I loved when I was a kid. It was called Maverick. I remember the great character actor, John Dehner, repeating the running gag: "If you can't trust your banker, who can you trust?"
Gee, that's got a contemporary -- and contemptible -- ring to it. Mavericks one and all.
Wait a moment. From me, I promise, no preaching, no polemics, no poking about things in which I have no business prodding about. Yes, I improperly ended a phrase with a preposition. That's about as a far as I go to provoke civil disobedience. For that, I deserve a pox on both my houses. Then again, my houses were repossessed. That reminds me that John McCain had some trouble with his campaign song. The Foo Fighters reclaimed "My Hero." I think he should have used that old tune, "You'd Be So Nice To Come Home To." If he could only recall which home that was.
It's safe to say that this election season was a bad American dream, a protracted piece of perfidy. I'm thankful that it's over in time for Thanksgiving. I've never heard so many Americans say that they're moving to Canada as a result of the presidential election, whatever the outcome would be. Do you think Canada has enough room? For all the people who moved to Canada, come back soon. Everything's going to be all right. Besides, we're going to need your help when we start picking on some truly unfortunate people.
Bruce Bellingham is also a columnist for the SF Northside. Unlike Ringo Starr, he likes mail. Mail him at bruce@northsidesf.com
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Bellingham by the Bay, November 2008
Much of the talk around Nob Hill revolves around the reported sale of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The staffers are nervous – as most staffers everywhere are these days – and the inevitable word “layoffs” has been whispered in the neighborhood. … The Octavia Lounge, one of the few venues for live cabaret, is now closed, and undergoing a remodeling by the new owners. This has caused the cancellation of Open Call, a show-in-progress produced by Lua Hadar and Linda Kosut. They’re looking for a new venue. “The owners of the Octavia Lounge, Larry Metzger and Patrick O’Connor, are still part owners of the club,” reports Lua. “I hear they might bring in a DJ but are considering keeping live music as part of the programming.” …
Stu Smith was a regular patron of Delessio’s Market across the street from the Octavia Lounge, at Valencia & Market, until he saw the sign in the window last month announcing a 50 per cent price hike on their prepared foods. Stu started an angry e-mail campaign in protest. … Dorothy Hearst was amused to hear that Ringo Starr will toss out all fan mail that he gets from now on. “I’ll take some of Ringo’s for him,” the quick-witted Dorothy declaims. “Getting fan mail can be a little terrifying,” says Rita Moreno, who lives in the East Bay. “It’s unnerving when people send it to my house, and I have no idea how they find my exact address.” You might recall that scene from the 1964 Beatles film A Hard Day’s Night, a Ringo-coined phrase where Ringo got the lion’s share of the Beatles’ fan mail. I guess it never stopped. …
Speaking of movies, a very cool event this month at the Jewish Community Center, an evening of San Francisco Film Noir with Eddie Muller, the local Czar of Noir and Miguel Pendas, creative director of the SF Film Festival, Nov. 11 at 7 p.m. A talk about movies that were shot here in town and clips from The Maltese Falcon ... Dark Passage ... Lady from Shanghai ... Born to Kill ... and others. At 5 bucks a pop, it's a steal. Good murkiness for tough times. ...
The call him “The Boss of the Sauce.” That’s Joseph Manzare. Right. Not Joe the Plumber but Joe the Winner, who took top prize last year. On Sunday, Nov. 2, 12 noon – 5 pm, chefs will face each other in the “Boss of the Sauce” competition. The battle for the best-made-tomato-based sauce will take place in the Church Hall (lower level) at Sts. Peter & Paul Church, 666 Filbert Street on Washington Square. Last year’s winner Joseph Manzare will be on hand to compete again. Manzare has opened Joey & Eddie’s in North Beach on Washington Square in the space that was formerly Moose’s. Sunday’s event benefits FIERI, a non-profit devoted to promoting Italian culture. Admission is $20.00 per person. Tickets Available at the door and online at http://www.bossofthesauce.org/sanfrancisco … I was always amused by the church's address, you know, 666, and all that ...
Lorna K. is back singing at the Hotel Rex on Sutter & Mason on Nov. 21 from 6:15 to 8:15. She was there on Halloween and cast a good hex on all at the Rex. … The estimable San Francisco Academy Orchestra performs at Calvary Presbyterian Church, Fillmore & Jackson, at 6:15 p.m. on Nov. 9. … Kathy Garver – she played Cissy on the Family Affair TV show all those years ago – and Barry Barsamian have begun a new weekly cable show called “Backstage! With Barry & Kathy” on ComCast Channel 29 on Mondays at 5:30 p.m. …
Comedian Renee Taylor -- yes "The Nanny's mother" -- was all set to come to S.F. for a fundraiser (just like a politician except she doesn't take the money when she leaves). She had to beg off. Renee and her husband, Joe Bologna, are in the middle of selling their house that they had for 40 years in Beverly Hills. It's listed at $5 million but there's not much of a house left. It's been "gutted to the studs." That's a real fixer-upper. Renee always has a good story. The Home & Garden cable network wants her to do a reality show about selling the house. She's considering it but Joe refuses to cooperate. "Joe thinks no amount of money is worth the humiliation," says Renee. "I'm willing to make a fool out of myself for free." ... Renee also is kicking around an idea for a show called "An Evening without Joe Bologna." Maybe Joe could call in. She remains the eternal optimist. "We're still looking for a place to live, but I consider it an adventure. It will have a happy ending, one way or another." ...
I wonder if the election will have a happy ending. Not bloody likely. But always looking on the bright side is Mary Goodnature -- yes, that's her name -- who's running for supervisor in the 11th district (that's the Outer Mission). Her rules for campaigning: "There will be no arguing or protesting, yelling or banner waving," Mary reassures. "Just flowers, food and fun." ... Has anyone asked Sarah Palin about the situation in Freedonia? Forgive me but there's not much time to make fun of her. I hope. The joke could be on me. One way or the other we won't be rid of her, I fear. She'll be hosting Romper Room in no time. Poor kids. ... Mr. Blackwell died last month at the age of 86. His passing reminded me of another great fashion critic, the late Count Marco of the SF Chronicle. Marco kvetched to me while he was in the hospital for the last time: "Mr. Blackwell stole my idea for the Ten Worst-Dressed Women. He knew about the worst-dressed women. He dressed them." Those fellows knew how to carry a cudgel to the very end. ... Mr. Blackwell had the same partner for 60 years. How dare anyone not call that a marriage? ...
There must be a good reason that I’ve been watching the Marx Brothers’ classic Duck Soup over and over again lately:
Rufus T. Firefly: [to Trentino] Now, how about lending this country twenty million dollars, you old skinflint?
Ambassador Trentino: Twenty million dollars is a lot of money. I'd have to take that up with my Minister of Finance.
Rufus T. Firefly: Well, in the meantime, could you let me have twelve dollars until payday?
Ambassador Trentino: Twelve dollars?
Rufus T. Firefly: Don't be scared, you'll get it back. I'll give you my personal note for ninety days. If it isn't paid by then, you can ... keep the note. …
Rod McKuen has mulled this over: “Can you imagine what a personal note for $12.00 signed by Rufus T. Firefly would go for at Sotheby's or even eBay these days?”
The Marx Brothers and Rod McKuen always get the last word. And we’ll leave it at that. …
Bruce Bellingham is also a columnist for the Marina Times. We do not recommend that anyone accept a personal note of any kind from him.
###
Stu Smith was a regular patron of Delessio’s Market across the street from the Octavia Lounge, at Valencia & Market, until he saw the sign in the window last month announcing a 50 per cent price hike on their prepared foods. Stu started an angry e-mail campaign in protest. … Dorothy Hearst was amused to hear that Ringo Starr will toss out all fan mail that he gets from now on. “I’ll take some of Ringo’s for him,” the quick-witted Dorothy declaims. “Getting fan mail can be a little terrifying,” says Rita Moreno, who lives in the East Bay. “It’s unnerving when people send it to my house, and I have no idea how they find my exact address.” You might recall that scene from the 1964 Beatles film A Hard Day’s Night, a Ringo-coined phrase where Ringo got the lion’s share of the Beatles’ fan mail. I guess it never stopped. …
Speaking of movies, a very cool event this month at the Jewish Community Center, an evening of San Francisco Film Noir with Eddie Muller, the local Czar of Noir and Miguel Pendas, creative director of the SF Film Festival, Nov. 11 at 7 p.m. A talk about movies that were shot here in town and clips from The Maltese Falcon ... Dark Passage ... Lady from Shanghai ... Born to Kill ... and others. At 5 bucks a pop, it's a steal. Good murkiness for tough times. ...
The call him “The Boss of the Sauce.” That’s Joseph Manzare. Right. Not Joe the Plumber but Joe the Winner, who took top prize last year. On Sunday, Nov. 2, 12 noon – 5 pm, chefs will face each other in the “Boss of the Sauce” competition. The battle for the best-made-tomato-based sauce will take place in the Church Hall (lower level) at Sts. Peter & Paul Church, 666 Filbert Street on Washington Square. Last year’s winner Joseph Manzare will be on hand to compete again. Manzare has opened Joey & Eddie’s in North Beach on Washington Square in the space that was formerly Moose’s. Sunday’s event benefits FIERI, a non-profit devoted to promoting Italian culture. Admission is $20.00 per person. Tickets Available at the door and online at http://www.bossofthesauce.org/sanfrancisco … I was always amused by the church's address, you know, 666, and all that ...
Lorna K. is back singing at the Hotel Rex on Sutter & Mason on Nov. 21 from 6:15 to 8:15. She was there on Halloween and cast a good hex on all at the Rex. … The estimable San Francisco Academy Orchestra performs at Calvary Presbyterian Church, Fillmore & Jackson, at 6:15 p.m. on Nov. 9. … Kathy Garver – she played Cissy on the Family Affair TV show all those years ago – and Barry Barsamian have begun a new weekly cable show called “Backstage! With Barry & Kathy” on ComCast Channel 29 on Mondays at 5:30 p.m. …
Comedian Renee Taylor -- yes "The Nanny's mother" -- was all set to come to S.F. for a fundraiser (just like a politician except she doesn't take the money when she leaves). She had to beg off. Renee and her husband, Joe Bologna, are in the middle of selling their house that they had for 40 years in Beverly Hills. It's listed at $5 million but there's not much of a house left. It's been "gutted to the studs." That's a real fixer-upper. Renee always has a good story. The Home & Garden cable network wants her to do a reality show about selling the house. She's considering it but Joe refuses to cooperate. "Joe thinks no amount of money is worth the humiliation," says Renee. "I'm willing to make a fool out of myself for free." ... Renee also is kicking around an idea for a show called "An Evening without Joe Bologna." Maybe Joe could call in. She remains the eternal optimist. "We're still looking for a place to live, but I consider it an adventure. It will have a happy ending, one way or another." ...
I wonder if the election will have a happy ending. Not bloody likely. But always looking on the bright side is Mary Goodnature -- yes, that's her name -- who's running for supervisor in the 11th district (that's the Outer Mission). Her rules for campaigning: "There will be no arguing or protesting, yelling or banner waving," Mary reassures. "Just flowers, food and fun." ... Has anyone asked Sarah Palin about the situation in Freedonia? Forgive me but there's not much time to make fun of her. I hope. The joke could be on me. One way or the other we won't be rid of her, I fear. She'll be hosting Romper Room in no time. Poor kids. ... Mr. Blackwell died last month at the age of 86. His passing reminded me of another great fashion critic, the late Count Marco of the SF Chronicle. Marco kvetched to me while he was in the hospital for the last time: "Mr. Blackwell stole my idea for the Ten Worst-Dressed Women. He knew about the worst-dressed women. He dressed them." Those fellows knew how to carry a cudgel to the very end. ... Mr. Blackwell had the same partner for 60 years. How dare anyone not call that a marriage? ...
There must be a good reason that I’ve been watching the Marx Brothers’ classic Duck Soup over and over again lately:
Rufus T. Firefly: [to Trentino] Now, how about lending this country twenty million dollars, you old skinflint?
Ambassador Trentino: Twenty million dollars is a lot of money. I'd have to take that up with my Minister of Finance.
Rufus T. Firefly: Well, in the meantime, could you let me have twelve dollars until payday?
Ambassador Trentino: Twelve dollars?
Rufus T. Firefly: Don't be scared, you'll get it back. I'll give you my personal note for ninety days. If it isn't paid by then, you can ... keep the note. …
Rod McKuen has mulled this over: “Can you imagine what a personal note for $12.00 signed by Rufus T. Firefly would go for at Sotheby's or even eBay these days?”
The Marx Brothers and Rod McKuen always get the last word. And we’ll leave it at that. …
Bruce Bellingham is also a columnist for the Marina Times. We do not recommend that anyone accept a personal note of any kind from him.
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