(via Center for the Study Political Graphics)
(which is nowhere as cool as it sounds)
(via brooklynmutt)
Strippers have boyfriends.
If they don’t, it’s merely temporary. Why this is, I don’t know.
At the end of every night, in the parking lot of every club, waits the Fraternity of Boyfriends. Dutifully, casually, or resentfully, but always quietly.
We are not welcome inside the club during business hours, for obvious reasons. Sometimes there are only one or two of us, sometimes several. Our faces are up-lt by cell-phones & cigarettes. We can see each other, but we are not familiar, because the thing we hold in common does not make for good camaraderie.
Our relationships with our girlfriends are disturbingly similar.
Around 2:30 AM she emerges from the club. Her face is still large with cosmetics, but her clothes are small. Sweatpants. T-shirts. Pullovers. Like ballerinas or actresses after a show.
Her walk to the car is supervised by the bouncer, who waves, and who is invariably a decent person. He has dated a stipper, too. He was once in the Fraternity as well.
Once inside the car, she tells you she is tired and starving and can we stop for some fast-food? You pull away and into a drive-thru. Except for the fact that she pays with a thick wad of crinkly, perfumed ones, you’re just a couple who is out late.
Every night.
Every club.
(via placidiappunti)
This reminds me of this one time in high school when my mom found two empty 40s of Old E stashed in my closet. I’m not sure exactly why I had hidden them there, but I do remember they’d been in there for months and I had forgotten all about them.
Anyways, I come home from school and walk into my room to find the two bottles sitting on my bed with a hand-written note from my mom that said, “Kate, if you’re going to drink, don’t drink this shit. Love, Mom.”
Best. EVER.
I ride the bus a lot, and spend a lot of time in public spaces. You ever see the abusive parent? Hitting their children, humiliating them, hurling profanities?
And you think to yourself, that child doesn’t stand a chance. Even if the kid has the potential to be well-adjusted, there’s no way they’ll survive a childhood with that parent.
These notes are like the opposite of that dynamic.
josh:
Is this because I wouldn’t have sex with you?
brooklynmutt: bmckinney: savingpaper: — Clay Bennett.
Set in England, of course. Where they have the most socialist, statist healthcare system in the entire industrialized world.
And they love it.
Name Drop Time™
It’s that time during dinner at the conference when Joe from Charleston or Greg from Fort Worth whip out their dicks and start measuring in name drops. And yes, it’s usually guys and it seems like one of them is always from Texas.
Usually I turn to whoever’s closest and talk about anything else but tonight I just sat there. See, the topic of the day was Social Media and the audience ranged from those like Greg from Fort Worth, who had it all figured out to Janice who just e-mails AND THAT’S IT [uncomfortable laughter]. So I listened.
“Have your read X?” or “So and so does this and he’s amazing” and “If you don’t know [fill in the blank] you’re missing out.” On and on and naturally the conversation turns to Twitter.
I quickly realized that parts of my body I’ve long forgotten about have gag reflexes or sphincters and when Joe from Charleston explained what Twitter was and how you should be using it, I learned which organs have both.
So what I’m saying is that it was a bad idea and the pork chop was delicious.
Bevan Dufty wants to be the 1st gay mayor of San Francisco.
But he doesn’t really want to tell us why. He has no agenda, no campaign platform.
Look, we get it. After 5 years of Mayor McVison we just want someone who can get shit done. But saying you want to build consensus isn’t a substitute for a plan.
Why should we vote for you, Bevan? I’ve watched all 30 minutes of the video, and I still don’t have an answer.
“San Francisco is a city where people are never more abroad than when they are at home”
- Benjamin F. Taylor
After ridiculously long day…and a steak…a steak like you wouldn’t believe.
There’s something very “Willy Loman” about that expression.
RE: Crazy jezus guy on the corner
Sometimes I feel like reason and rationality is losing the battle, and that’s a scary thought. The advances of science, politics, society, etc. of the last 500 years are being attacked. Sad.
It’s all so fragile. A candle in the dark.
Got Pot? Fly from Oakland
Oakland International Airport may be the nation’s only airport with a specific policy letting users of medical marijuana travel with the drug.
Very Cool.
Funny story.
Not long after 9/11, I attended a NIDA conference in DC. I went with several “patient advocates” (which is to say, former drug addicts).
Some of us were sharing a room at the hotel. As one of my roommates unpacked, the smell of skunky weed overpowered the space. My blood ran cold when I saw him unload a full brick of marijuana from his suitcase.
All the tickets had been purchased under my name. I still shudder to think what would have happened had security caught him. (More than a few hours in a small, brightly lit room, I can tell you.) When he saw how thermonuclear pissed I was getting, he pulled out his medical marijuana card as if to say, “Duh”.
I tried to explain how the TSA at Ronald Reagan International Airport didn’t give a flying fuck what laminated card the state of California gave him, and enforced federal law accordingly. He blew me off until I told him I’d be alerting TSA to his suitcase before we received our boarding passes for the return flight. That got his attention and Johnny Reefer was furious.
“What am I gonna do with all this weed?”
When I recommended he flush it, he looked as if I’d suggested lighting a suitcase of $100 bills on fire. Him and the other advocates spent the rest of the conference stoned out of their gourd so as to not waste any—which, come to think of it, was probably the best way to endure a NIDA conference.
Federalism: disregard it, go to jail.
115 days, bitches.
“Blue Mustache” by Matt Gonzalez.
I say this as a progressive who voted for him, but only Matt fucking Gonzalez could be this wide of the mark.
You switch up the blue gimmick with a toothbrush, and you’ve got something. It may not be much, but it’s something.
But no.
Blue Mustache.
