Willie's World: The wisdom of S.F.'s ex-mayor

The other night I was going from the symphony's gala fundraiser to an afterhours meeting with Paul Pelosi, and I have to say: The bar where I drink is better than the bar where you drink. My bar has fancy molding from back before the 1906 earthquake, and a special on drinks made from endangered species. Your bar can only serve Armagnac in carafes made from domestic crystal.

You'd never catch me drinking in a place like that.

The terrible shame of black-on-Asian crime like we saw in Oakland recently raises an important question: What's in it for me?

Usually, people in San Francisco pay me to destroy their enemies for them, but so far I haven't gotten so much as a check from Rose Pak or Cecil Williams telling me whose side I'm on. If they're not careful, nobody will make any money off this violence.

Got into a cab the other morning after a breakfast meeting with Hillary Clinton, Robin Williams, and Don Fisher's corpse, and the driver says to me, "Mayor Brown, I sure bet we'd have a lot more buildings being built right now if you were in charge."

I said, "If I were still in charge, we'd have a Transamerica Pyramid on top of our Transamerica Pyramid."

He liked that. I gave him a $20 tip. It's always nice to meet a man who knows how things work.

Attorney general candidate Kamala Harris is in a lot of trouble for a frontrunner. A crime lab that snorts the evidence and police officers keeping their criminal convictions secret will make great Republican attack ads. It seems like everything that could go wrong for her has, all at once.

I have some advice for San Francisco's beautiful D.A. about this: You should have gone to Gary Danko with me when you had the chance.

I was having a power lunch with Dianne Feinstein at a restaurant that's so exclusive it's paying me to keep its name out of the Chronicle, and Dianne said, "Willie, that's a great hat you're wearing." She was right.

Movie time: I know that Hot Tub Time Machine is supposed to be a comedy, but I just couldn't relate: All my hot tubs have diamonds.

The new Nightmare on Elm Street gave me goosebumps: That's exactly how I got elected Speaker of the Assembly in 1994.

How to Train Your Dragon? Forget it. Ninety-nine minutes, and not one word about appointing the dragon's wife to the Arts Commission.

Last week, I was receiving an award from another organization that's terrified of me, and just after I gave my speech about how its check had cleared, this guy comes up to me and says, "You've personally committed seven counts of corruption and fraud against members of my family."

I said, "That's it? You must not live in San Francisco."

 
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