If anyone's qualified for the job of pointy-headed-balding-dude-who-makes-other-males-jealous, we think it's got to be Oakland mayoral candidate Jerry Brown. It seems like only yesterday he went to Africa with "You're No Good" dream-babe singer Linda Ronstadt on his arm. Gov. Moonbeam? Gov. Excellent Babe-Scammin' Dude was more like it. The two split, but Jerry was seen at the same Salman Rushdie party as Linda as recently as last year. Go get 'em, Jerry.
Our second balding choice is San Francisco's party planner to the rich and famous, Arts Commission Director Stanlee Gatti. He's decorated events using crushed mauve carpeting, patent-recipe cakes, and other pretentious, uptown accouterments. But Stanlee doesn't seem to realize that the really good parties are decorated with lots of tall, busty babes. He could show he's grasped that fact by appearing on taxis and billboards smooshed between a pair of smiling peroxide blondes.
If any SF Weekly readers think they're more studly than Jay, Jerry, or Stanlee (fat chance, chumps), the Gold Club is accepting entries at its bar on Howard Street.
-- Matt Smith
Herb: Wish You Were Here
Sometimes you have to wonder about the Chronicle's grasp of reality. Monday's editorial essay "Sneakers on a Power Line," intended as a sensitive, tranche de vie meditation on the interconnectedness of urban living, looked at sneakers suspended from overhead wires and saw a long-vanished San Francisco.
"How did the sneaks get up there?" wondered the Chron, before speculating, "Bored kids in street shoes were probably lugging their gym sneakers home when a dare-you game started up." Then another misty, Norman Rockwell-inspired scenario sprang to the would-be Caen's mind: "It could be that garbage truck crews were playing a game with some old clothes they found."
Um, we hate to break in on your musings, but the sneakers indicate drugs are for sale in the vicinity.
-- Laurel Wellman
Prepared to accept every opportunity for shameless self-promotion, Dog Bites bit when a producer from KOFY-TV invited us to appear on Jim Gabbert's late-night Sunday television show. All we had to do was stand around a fake barroom set, swill free beer, and exchange witty repartee with Gabbert between reels of last Sunday's midnight movie fest.
We thought only insomniacs and Jack Boulware watched the show. Apparently, though, it also has a following among parole officers, INTERPOL, and grudge-holding ex-spouses. Before the taping began, Gabbert reminded the several dozen volunteer extras they stood a good chance of showing up on the air -- so if anyone was wanted by the police, he or she had better leave the set, or at least turn, back to camera.
Hey, Gabbert said, it's happened before. Usually some guy gets his mug on the show, and winds up being spotted by an ex-wife who stays up late watching bad movies and steaming over back child support ....
No one left, but a few people did drift toward the rear of the crowd. And one guy standing near the pinball machine did look a bit like Eddie DeBartolo.
This Just In
Dog Bites, widely recognized for its on-going dedication to corporate sycophancy, was alarmed to learn that the new issue of Mother Jones will "take on Bill Gates."
We think a few too many people are taking on Bill these days. Talk about kicking a guy when he's down! So in the interest of providing journalistic balance, we want to share part of a poem sent to us by one of our online readers, 15-year-old Gitanjali Sawhney of Bahrain, who has not only restored our faith in Internet community but (we think) proven that assonance remains a viable poetic tool:
from Bill Gates
"He is one of the biggest inventors
In the computer sector
The universe is so massive
But he has made it so cohesive
"Windows and Internet Explorer are great
In Microsoft there is always something new to create
People's imagination he captures
He is a major force in shaping our futures."
Take heart, Bill!
-- Laurel Wellman