And Furthermore - Oooh, Cookies!
4 October 2000
"What with all the deaths, I'm sure the rent must be low." I guess proprietorship is just the next logical step after midlife crisis.
I haven't really said much about the new season of Buffy and Angel starting. Yay! That about wraps it up.
Damn, the cursor is locked again. I thought it might be SecureCRT doing it, but nope. Something else. This is getting quite trying.
Oh, and! Gosh, quite a time finding the exclamation point there. Degeneration all around. Anyway. The starting point for the entire chain of thought about the bookstore was that on ... Monday? Saturday? Friday? something like that ... I was talking to Anna about the bar. Some incredibly pathetic narc had written in to the Health Department and the Mayor's Office, saying "At 10:30 PM on the night of Saturday, September 2?, there were approximately 80 people in the bar, and of these at least 20 were openly smoking. There were even ashtrays on the bar." Good Heavens! So they delivered a copy of the letter to the bar, blocking out the name of the complainer to keep us from paying him a visit. Unfortunately, the bartender who was here to receive it is now very worked up about it. She's afraid that they're going to fine her personally, which is nonsense. If it came down to it, I'd pay her fine, after all, but certainly, the owner would be the person fined. I know they do give tickets to the people who are actually smoking. (This is all so stupid.) She's convinced that we're being stalked by this professional nolife, who has made it his mission in life to Stamp Out Smoking. (We do know it's a He, but in San Francisco, this can be pretty much taken for granted. It amazes me that people who commemorate the raid on Stonewall would be the exact same people who want the police to raid a bar because they're just absolutely disgusted by what goes on in there, instead of, oh, JUST MINDING THEIR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS???? But, I digress.)
Anyway again, though, talking to Anna, it turns out that the bar has gotten a bunch of these letters and it doesn't really matter. The city officials who have to enforce it tend to be smokers themselves. Heh. I mean, at some point, The Man will shut things down, sure, but it's not worth getting tizzed over.
But out of that conversation came the more interesting semi-fact that the owner is thinking of putting the bar up for sale in a few years, and that we know the people who have expressed interest in it. Anna was describing the ideas one of them had, to take out all the weird furniture and put in a pool table, and her response to him was exactly mine on hearing that - Aaaa! No! Jeez, people just don't get it sometimes. There are four other bars within a block, and one exactly like that - hard liquor, pool table, bad tattoos - right across the street for Bob's sakes. The people that like those kinds of places have a million choices. People who like weird little places like ours don't have so many - why take away one?
So she was saying how maybe she might just bid on the place, and I said, Yeah, me too! Which is quite a thought. I'd damn sure get a seat if I had a share in the bar.
This is way too much like being a grownup. I need to go lie down some more.
Willfully blind self-indulgent nebbish or amusingly quirky old coot? And how bout that local sports team? Discuss among yourselves.
All names are fake, most places are real, the author is definitely unreliable but it's all in good fun. Yep.
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The motto at the top of the page is a graffito I saw on Brunswick Street in Melbourne.