by Fritz

San Francisco- Homeless Camps value skyrocketed Monday in city parks everywhere as a rush of homeless are scooping up what remaining. Some camps in Golden Gate Park costing up to double the amount leaving realtors and brokers alike wondering what this could mean for the market.

“I bought this camp with a pint of rum. I plan to flip it by putting on a new tarp and fixing the wheel on the grocery cart and selling it for a gallon of whiskey.” Chad Inus said.

“Some camps are getting such good appreciation by the high demand and proximity to facilities.” Realtor Jake Rosenthal said. “For example: if your tent faces the Lake Merced can take on prices ranging in the pickle jars full of liquor and its due to how fast one can run to the lake to take a leak.”

“I’ve got my eye on that park on the corner of Larkin and Greenwich.” Ricky Harrel said. “Rent is low and there are tennis courts.”

With every homeless person taking up camp the cost of alcohol has gone up because now it is the “new” currency for these high priced scraps of land. A pint of Jack Daniel’s passed the US Dollar by $.34 and doesn’t look like it going down soon. A gallon of milk however sunk $2.77 in one day.

Out of town investors scrambling to buy up park space and building mega-camps with 4-man even 6-man tents then flipping the camp for triple what the paid for it. Banks however aren’t eager to lend alcohol to customers as it turns out they are finding it hard to compete with 7-11.

by Fritz

San Francisco- Lance Huffman from Nob Hill was reported to have slept right through his alarm this morning causing a shock wave of concern throughout the apartment building as well as making him late to work.

“I thought he was dead!” Miss Mary Weatherbee from the upstairs apartment said. “That’s when I alerted the police.”

Miss Mary Weatherbee’s call to the police came in around 7:37am and a squad car was called to the scene where they knocked on Huffman’s door waking him up. The waited until he answered the door to make very sure that he was up. By then most of the apartment building residents where out in the hallway watching all the commotion.

“In a situation like this it’s important that everyone remain calm.” Police deputy Larry Shields said. “I’ve seen too many scenes like this get out of hand and everyone ends up dead.”

Police searched Huffmans apartment to make sure that the coast was clear. The police found the alarm clock in question and confirmed that it had been set properly. Though Huffman insisted that he had just slept through it and that he was running very late and really should get to work, the police let him and the alarm clock go saying that a complete investigation would take place.

“Will everyone please just leave my apartment I have to get ready for work.” Huffman said as everyone was still huddled around the entry way.

by Fritz

San Francisco- Neighbors in the Outer Sunset district reported Thursday that Edith Yam has increased her status to “Cat Lady” as she has now over 7 cats purring around the house and yard. This new status moving up from “Cookie Lady” that the kids had dubbed her a year prior for her afternoon cookie giveaways.

Neighbors say that the reason for the change has been her ability to accumulate cats and in combination with less cookie giveaways. This slow migration into “Cat Lady” status leads some to wonder what could cause such a transformation?

“She would tell you that it’s cause she just likes cats.” Phyllis Gardner, a neighbor of Yam, also know as “The Muckraker Lady, “ said. “I think its cause she’s got cat nip stuffed in that moo moo of hers.”

“One time I saw her lure a kitty into the house using a trail of milk.” Tor Rasputin, also known as “Lying Sack of Shit” to the neighbors said. “It turns out that it wasn’t a trail but a glass, and it wasn’t milk neither, it was water. I remember that it wasn’t a cat too. It was her late husband Frank Yam.”

The late Frank Yam, who had been married to Edith for 42 years before he passed due to a heart failure, had been known around the neighborhood as the “Handy Man” as he could fix any problem around the house. While Frank was alive, he and Edith enjoyed “Handy Man” and “Cookie Lady” status in the neighborhood for many years. It was soon after Franks death that the cookie started to crumble and the “Cookie Lady” became the “Cat Lady”.

“The cookie started tasting like cat food.” Lisa (The Whiner)Miles said. “I think she thought us kids were the cats….she called me kitty once.”

Dave Covalt
Owner
Izzy’s

Dear Mr. Covalt:
I am writing to inform you about a tragic event that took place in
your restaurant on the evening of June the twenty third.
After nearly three thousand miles and over a week in the car, I found
myself standing travel-worn on the threshold of Izzy’s. Having
eaten no more than convience store snacks for three states, the
prospects of an all you can eat buffet for less than ten dollars had
me and my traveling partner (my cousin) giddy. Between the two of us
we had twenty-two dollars and a handful of pocket lint, just the
perfect amount for two classic buffets’.
After being seated, we eagerly attacked the delectable looking buffet
line, piling four trips worth of food, on a single plate. We picked
up our drinks, retired to our table and ravenously devoured every
scrap of our tasty horde with no more than an occasional grunt or
belch for communication. The food was excellent. We found the
delicate balance of your pizza’s doughy center and crisp bottom, so
appealing that we consumed no less than our combined body weight in
the hour of our stay. We would have eaten more but found ourselves
agreeing (with a series of grunts and nod’s) that we simply had to
sample each and every one of the savory deserts situated in constant
sight of our table. To our delight, desert was nearly as good as the
pizza.
Full to the level of immanent explosion, we tossed our napkins on our
plates and undid the top buttons of newly tightened pants. It was
about this time that our aged and obvious veteran server swaggered
over with the check and a salty good night. We quickly drained our
drinks and examined the bill. Imagine our delight when we discovered
that we were exactly seventy-five cents short.
We looked from the bill to our drinks in utter perplex ion. There,
just above the total line was a rather unsightly charge of three
dollars and fifty-eight cents, with the word’s “two drinks” for
company. Utter panic ensued. Why had nobody informed us that unlike
every other buffet on the planet, drinks were not included?
Graciously, I excused myself from the table and marched out of the
restaurant and into the parking lot where I had left the Cadillac
Escalade we called home for the last week. I had not been so
embarrassed since I took Amanda Sorensen on a date to the Italian
cottage in college. That was the night that Amanda discovered a
taste for Scallops and copious amounts of good wine, while my wallet
had taste enough for only spaghetti and ice water.
Like a mad man, I burrowed my way through the Escalade in search of
discarded drive through change and spare pennies. After a search of
no less than twelve hours, I climbed out to the vehicle and plopped
down in one of four seats I had removed and counted a handful of
pennies and a few odd nickels. I had uncovered exactly seventy-six
cents, enough to cover the bill and leave a meager tip. Like the
cock of the walk, I strutted back to my table and slid into the
booth, opposite my irritated cousin. He had spent the duration of my
search feigning utter fascination with the now gelatinous pile of
tapioca on the plate before him. My smile informed him of the
success of the mission, a success celebrated with another round of
fruit punch. After a rousing fit of slimming yet concealed belches,
we left.
We tied the seats to the roof of the Escalade and made the final leg
of our journey in stuffed silence. It was in this silence that I
realized just how sneaky it was for Izzy’s to place the self-serve
soda fountain in the midst of the buffet line, where unwary patrons
would be easily duped into a costly beverage. In hindsight, I see
this as no more than a slightly unscrupulous tactic but at the time,
it was a crime of no less than high treason and demanded the
offenders spend the remainder of their lives in a bleak and privy
less Irish prison.
I do understand your desire to keep your price point beneath the
magical ten dollar mark and I applaud your obviously superior
product, but for the love of David Hasselhoff…. Inform your patrons
that drinks are extra prior to the arrival of the bill.
Sincerely,
Ryan Curtis
Buffet Connoisseur

San Francisco- A calm has finally settled over the inner Richmond district after a
truly chaotic afternoon. The barricades are down and the crowds have
thinned.

In what many consider the most unnatural of phenomenea, there are
a flood of questions regarding the sudden disappearance of retired
appliance salesman and long-time San Franciscan, Buddy Katz. There’s
no denying the gravity of what may very well be the first recorded
incident of a man devoured by his own sandwich.

The answers may prove hard to swallow.

It all happened at The Bagel; a popular deli/ bagel shop on
Geary Avenue just off of Park Presidio. The lunch crowd was long gone
and the staff handled the occassional customer wandering in during the
late afternoon. Katz, age 53, was a regular at the Bagel and would be
one of the very few who would stay and pull up a stool, enjoying his
usual lox and bagel with everything.

“Usually he sat near the window, but I was sweeping over there
so he grabbed a newspaper and moved toward the back,” said
counterperson Kim Noscher. “He comes in maybe three times a week and
so it’s not the first time he’s had to move around while we cleaned
up.”

By all accounts there was very little different about this
visit to the Bagel by Katz, but as investigators from SFPD dig for
clues, they noted the one detail that might very well prove to be the
catalyst.

“He went with the 4oz of lox as opposed to the 2oz,” says
Noscher. “I didn’t think anything about it, but I talked to a few
other people who knew Mr. Katz better than I did, and they couldn’t
believe he went for all that Nova lox.”

And then there was the cream cheese.

The details are sketchy, as the sandwich was made with some
haste, but it appears as if there was a double helping of
Philadelphia Creme Cheese as well.

“I didn’t make the sandwich,” says the young woman defensively.
Clearly the stress of the day had taken it’s toll on all the Bagel
staff. “I do know that this was a big sandwich. Bigger than I think
we usually make, but let me just say that we’ve made a lot of big
sandwiches and nothing bad happened. Nothing.”

Neither SFPD or a formal statement issued by the Bagel has made
an issue of the size of the sandwich. It’s a detail that can’t be
overlooked.

As the day wound to a close and the staff began to put up
chairs it was clear that Buddy Katz had abandoned his sandwich after
what appeared to be three to four very messy bites.

The capers had rolled to the floor and the onions pulled out and
piled on the butcher paper wrapping. A quick search of the men’s
room proved fruitless and it was assumed that their customer had
slipped away for a moment, leaving behind his big sandwich and creame
soda.

After an hour of waiting the staff did what most any concerned person
would do….they called the police.

“This is a sandwich that goes for $7.25. I’ve never seen anyone
just leave such a sandwich. It just doesn’t happen. Not this kinda
sandwich, and not with Bud Katz, ” says Bagel co-owner, Simon Weiner.
“And then there’s his shoes.”

As nerves began to fray, it was eventually discovered that Katz
had left behind both of his shoes. Florshiem “Comos”, each with
comfort pads from Doctor Scholls. Any belief that their customer had
left the Bagel in a huff was suddenly put to rest.

Though the SFPD refuses to comment on a missing person case that
is only a few hours old, it’s impossible not to consider the wurst.
Buddy Katz may have been devoured by a sandwich made well beyond his
ability. After grilling the staff of the Bagel, there were no answers
to be had.

There have been three recorded cases of these kinds of events
over the past twenty years. The first was at the Hotel Duluth, in
French Dip, Minnesota in the fall of ’87. A night clerk at the hotel
had ordered a BLT from the kitchen and found himself with a sandwich
much bigger than he anticipated. At first he offered sections to a
bell hop and then a few late arriving guests but sadly he had no
takers. By morning the clerk was gone and his shoes abandoned behind
the counter.

Two other incidents are poorly documented. Both occured in
Hamburg, Germany. Ruben and “Sloppy” Joe Muntz tackled a bratwurst
platter originally ordered by a soccer team that failed to pick up
their order. The two brothers grabbed a lot of napkins and made their
way to a table in their local beer hall. Before beers could be
ordered, the brothers were gone. The condition of those sitting
nearby made any investigation by the authorities useless. Their shoes
found loose under their chairs.

Katz is retired from his small appliance shop in the Mission
District and is not married nor has any children. He was active in a
few local clubs. His friends refuse to swallow that their friend is
gone and will maintain a vigil.

“We wanted the left-overs,” said a distraught neighbor, Dagwood
Poboy. “The police took everything and I’m skeptical we’re going to
get our hands on that sandwich. If he’s in there, we want to be
around to help him find his way back.”

More on this story as things come up.

San Francisco — In an unexpected decision by Northern District Court Judge Bruce Oswold, San Francisco City Council will come under the control of Marin Day Care Center. The decision came after the latest bout of hair pulling and name-calling between Supervisor Chris Daly and Bevan Dufty. Mr. Dufty’s parents were so angry at the abuse of their son that they went to federal court for protection.

Marin Day Schools Headteacher Marge Thompson was resigned to the school’s new duties. “In some ways, we feel responsible for what happened. Chris’ parents put him on the waiting list back in 1967 but with admissions as tight as they are, he didn’t get admitted until this spring. Its not his fault really that he has limited social skills and takes it out on the other kids. We do expect however that his parents will be very, very involved in the re-adjustment process.”

Betty and Ed Daly, Chris’ parents, were very excited that their son was finally admitted to the exclusive Marin Day School system in San Francisco. “It just goes to show that in America, anything is possible if you work hard” beamed Betty. “I just know little Chrissy is going to be the best little Supervisor ever!”

Harried Board of Supervisors President Aaron Peskin was clearly relieved to have adult supervision of a body known for its temper tantrums and crying than for meaningful personal growth of the Supervisors. “No one told me how hard it would be to supervise these people” he sighed. “Its really been a strain on my marriage, trying to keep Daly from biting Newsom, listening to Newsom whining and whimpering every time Daly hit him and the constant neediness generally. I’m not too proud to say I need help here.”

by Fritz

San Francisco- Clyde Duff (29) and Joe Stevenson (30) reportedly got
into a bit of scuffle on Sunday with each other over the mysterious
late word change to one of Stevenson’s words in what supposed to have
been a friendly game of Scrabble. The word in question had been put
down by Stevenson earlier in the game but later it had been pointed
out by Duff that he had missed the triple word score by coming up
short by two letters. Stevenson, by friends and families account does
not take criticism gracefully, made an awkward and very public attempt
to add some letters to the end of the short word one of which was a
blank square that later was explained as a punctuation mark.

Witnesses say that Duff caught Stevenson in the crime against Scrabble
and called him out. Stevenson who also has a history of not taking
confrontation very well started to throw a tantrum to which Duff
retorted, “Oh now go on. Cry me a river.”

This is not the only time that Stevenson had attempted to cry out any
sort of body of water. Two months prior, he had gotten into a
neighborly dispute over a frisbee that had caught a bit of a jet
stream and had flown over into Mrs. Nickerton’s backyard to which she
was not keen to Stevenson romping around in. Stevenson thought to put
on the water works in the middle of the day on Mrs. Nickerton’s front
steps to which Mrs. Nickerton responded by just shutting the door.
Stevenson continued his crying all the louder to which no response
came from the retreated Nickerton as it was later discovered that she
was partly deaf anyway.

“It’s a fine way for a 30 year old to act that way.” Joyce McCloud
said. “I think that boy needs to grow up and get a job.”

“Joe’s just crying out for love.” Stevenson’s mom Rachel Stevenson
said. “When ever he cries I think the best thing for it is milk and
cookies.”

Duff reportedly waited out Stevenson’s crying until all the tears were
spent and most of the yelps had subsided. Although the game did not
resume as Stevenson’s failed crying left him to plan B which was to
take his Scrabble game and go home.

There is nothing quite so wondrous as a day off. Except perhaps for
the sort of day off when you vow to do nothing more than lay about in
a form of catatonic lavishness. Thursday was just such a day. After
sleeping in much later than parental duties would normally allow and
then soaking in a steaming shower until all of the hot water reserves
were depleted, I retired with a good book to the easy chair and
settled in for a day of blatant time wasting.

It was to be the perfect day; I had taken every precaution to ensure
it. To my side was a glutinous pile of tasty snacks, including those
scrumptious little pre packaged orange crackers lovingly slathered
with peanut butter. There were no less than three power aid drinks
within easy reach and a piping hot and soothing cup of green tea
balanced on my thigh. The crown jewel however was the grossly
oversized slice of chocolate cake covered with a nice thick, creamy
blanket of white frosting that I had smuggled from the kitchen. It
was the last piece (three or four pieces by normal human standards) a
fact that would certainly add to its overall goodness.

To further guarantee my laziness would not be violated, I was dressed in a plain white tee shirt and my “nigh-night” pants. It was an ensemble that advertised like a neon sign “No honey, I will not mow the lawn
today.” As a further precaution, I had dragged my wife, Tiffani
down stairs and planted her on the couch to my side. Within seconds
she was fast asleep and as everyone knows, a sleeping mother is
perhaps the most effective child repellent known to man.

I was set.

One simply does not keep track of time in a conventional manor on
this sort of day off but I am fairly certain that it was two Cirque
Du Solei, a Beverly Hills cop and about six book chapters from
the moment I sat down to the time that it started. At first
it was nothing more than a minor disturbance within my aura of
bliss, a slight tremor emanating from somewhere within my stomach
region. I smiled in reflection of the chocolate cake that I had so
thoroughly devoured three naps ago, that was rumbling my stomach in
protest of its impending digestion. Quite content with the process
taking place somewhere in my belly, I returned to my book.

It was a meager ten minuets later that I discovered the resilience of
chocolate cake. I was again lost in my book when once more my stomach
released a rumble. This rumble however was considerably more violent
than the first and very much audible to the human ear, ninety
decibels at least, I would guess. Worried that my cacophonous bodily
functions might wake her, I leaned over to check on Tiffani. She was
curled into the fetal position hair wild and twitching in the obvious
throes of a dream. She was dressed in one of my shirts and her
hideous green stretch pants (I call them the elf pants), the ones
that seem to say, “No Ryan, you will not be having any sex today,”
and had transformed her pillow into a reservoir of drool.

No sooner had I leaned back in my chair when the cake struck yet
again and this time I knew it meant business. The rumble shook the
entire house and was accompanied by a pressure in my bowel area.
This third attack got my complete and undivided attention. Carefully
I set my book down and began to slowly ease myself to the edge of the
chair. The cake detected my movement subtle though it was, and
lashed out with a fury previously unknown in my world. Windows
rattled, the dogs whined and the pressure in my bowel threatened to
blow me into oblivion. It was time to get to a toilet.

In an instant I was on my feet and in a deep instinctual panic that
was screaming, “Run you fool, run!” And run I did. I took the
stairs three at a time whilst simultaneously removing my pants. By
the time I had reached the upstairs and hit level ground, I was
moving at a pace faster than any Olympic sprinter, with my pants
around my ankles. Like all the worst nightmares, time slowed, I was
running through invisible Jell-O. With each awkward hop towards the
bathroom, the pressure behind my anus increased as did the likely
hood that I would burst in a fountain of crap before reaching the
sanctity of the my porcelain throne.

With tears in my eyes, held breath and very tightly clinched butt
cheeks, I vaulted through the bathroom door, fumbled to get the
toilet lid lifted (I will never put the lid down again, never!) and
dropped like a titan upon the shiny white toilet seat. The very
instant my ass touched the cool of the seat, Mt Saint Ryan erupted in
an explosion of magma like excrement and a mighty earsplitting roar.
The whole affair only lasted a few moments and was in short order
replaced with a silence and calm that descended upon the tiny
bathroom like a midnight snow. I sat completely dumbfounded. I was
utterly perplexed as to how my nice quiet day could have been so
abruptly shattered and then in an instant, replaced. The cake of
course sensed this thought and immediately sent forth a series of
aftershocks that left me feeling entirely hollow, spent and amazed by
how much crap the human body can hold.
I sat; I imagine in much the same fashion as a grizzly bear hunter
after felling his prey, afraid to move in the event that the great
beast is merely feigning death in an effort to lure its stalker into
claw range. And so I waited, afraid even to wipe. And then the
burning set in.

It started as a bothersome itching sensation, just enough of a
discomfort to drag my mind back to eighth grade biology, when we
dissolved chunks of metal in hydrochloric acid, the same acid that
only moments before had ruptured from my ass. In the span of about
three and a half seconds, the itch turned into a fleet of Viet Cong
soldiers attacking my rear orifice with white hot flame throwers.
With all the grace of a very drunk, debilitated, obese and cross eyed
man, I tore at roll of toilet paper mounted beside me.

Mad with pain, I took the first swipe at my ass with the fluffy white Charmin. We live in a world full of myths designed to get us, as consumers to spend our hard earned money on various products and services. One of those myths is that Charmin is soft and fluffy. In actuality, Charmin and in fact most brands of toilet paper are made from highly acidic paper that has been carefully imbued with powered glass and a sprinkling of poison ivy, a fact that became blaringly obvious the
instant the bundle of soft evil touched my anus. I was sure that I
was removing at least seven layers of soft flesh with each agonizing
wipe and that by the time I was done; my ass would be no more than
memory.

Finally, I stood, surveyed the bowl of liquid heat and flushed.
There was little relief in watching it swirl out of my life for good,
because even now the cake would not leave me be and continued to
torment me with a searing burning sensation on my puckered butt-hole.
I was quite certain that the best way to quell this fire was with
water, so I turned with a brave face to the shower.
In no time I was dousing my burning anus with cold water and
releasing deep sighs of relief. The ordeal was over, I had emerged
triumphant. Showers are quite possibly the best places to reflect
upon the deeper meanings of events in our lives and after what I had
just gone through, my mind was eager to reflect.

I wondered what it would be like for the miniature people that live
in the toilet (if indeed there were miniature people living in the
toilet) to awake one day and see a giant ass descending from their
space like an alien mother ship. What must it be like for them to
have their sun blotted out, to be plunged into darkness and fear and
then to be sprayed with a mixture of shit and acid. With their dying
screams would they call out God’s name? Would they think that they
had displeased him and were thus being punished? As if being
miniature and living in a toilet would not be punishment enough for
any sin. Or would they simply see it as the end of days, a natural
though terrible conclusion to life as they know it.
I am unsure why God chose to inflict me with flaming diarrhea on that
particular day off but I have a few theories and I can assure you that
on my next day off, I am going to mow the damn lawn, before I eat the
chocolate cake.

by Fritz

San Francisco- Robert Smith from Nob Hill opened his e-mail Wednesday and found that he had no new messages in his inbox. Witnesses say that Smith was fairly devastated by the news and didn’t take it very well. They said that Smith resorted to sorting through old spam e-mails left in the junk folder and sorting them by subject matter.

“Sad. It’s just really sad.” Hope Conklin said. “I can’t believe he didn’t even get one.”

Reports coming out of the Federal E-mail Traffic Control (FETC) which headquarters are in Washington DC at the V1a8ra-4-lif3 Building on 3rd Street said that e-mails being sent were traveling at a normal rate and they hadn’t expected any delays.

“It’s important that people remain calm until we can get to the bottom of this.” Deputy Director of E-mail at the FETC Phil Johnson said. “Mr. Smith is feeling really alone right now and he needs to know that we are doing everything we can to get an e-mail out him as soon as we can.”

“I remember two days ago when I got an invite to be someone’s friend on MySpace.” Smith said when Crooked Street Press caught up with him at a local pub. “Her name was ##Roxy Rocks!## and she looked really hot in the photo that was on her profile. Her profile said that she was new in town and that she needed someone to show her around but only through her web-cam.”

E-mail Psychologist Dr. Edgar Hunnington sent us a text message saying that what Smith is going through now is what he calls the thirty-seventh stage of e-mailnixlexthia upon which a person starts to drink heavily because he/she thinks they didn’t get an e-mail that particular time they checked because nobody likes them which is often times true. “What is scary is that sometimes people with e-mailnixlexthia won’t check their e-mail for another couple of minutes and by then they are drunk and too deep into depression to be helped. I kept telling the FETC about this but did they listen to me?? Noooooooo. Why don’t you take your voodoo somewhere else they said. Why don’t you shove your science up your ass they said. Please get out of my home they said. Why are you still here, its the middle of the night go home they said. Well the world needs to know about e-mailnixlexthia!!!” Crooked Street Press decided not to interview him anymore via text message.

By the end of this interview Mr. Smith did get an e-mail. It was from his bank. He had over drafted on his account and they were e-mailing to let him know.

There are a few people who consider television the low tide of our
culture. I read recently that Jamie Lee Curtis proudly declared that
she’d never seen an episode of Friends or Cheers or any of the other
shared television experiences now considered classics. It was only by
accident that she caught a few minutes of Bravo’s Top Chef show.The
sound was off but she got the message that it had something to do
with the elimination of a chef turned her stomach and prompted her to
speak out on how television is eating our collective souls.

I disagree. I won’t say that a great deal of what’s on
television isn’t deplorable, because it is. I know that a pig can
find the brownie in the swill and so I rooted around and came up with
a short list of what I consider quality television. I’m sure there
are many more that I’ve not listed here, so I do welcome your
comments and suggestions.

Here are my top 5 examples of television quality

(In no particular order)

1) No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain. This is a Travel
Channel show on Monday evenings. It’s gonzo NY super chef who’s lived
a little and now has taken travel and food and meshed them
beautifully. The man is honest and biting in his humor and appetite.
He drinks, he swears and he dishes out personal wisdom while drinking
most of the day. Hands down my favorite travel show.

2) Myth Busters. The show takes widely held myths to their
literal end and shows what’s truly possible when you’re in the room
with very smart people who don’t mind blowing things up if it will
put a question to rest. This show brings out the geek in a lot of
people. This is a science show that teenagers will watch with rapt
attention. I’m confident that a lot of people watch Mythbusters and
just won’t admit it.

3)The Daily Show with John Stewart. No big revelation here. This
is already something of a television institution and gradually
accepting the awkward reality that many people accrue the majority of
their news from this Comedy Central show. Stewart provides a look of
disbelief that seems more sincere than if offered by MSNBC’s
Olbermann.

4) Rescue Me on FX. This is Dennis Leary’s emotional rollercoaster
about an alcholic fireman in NYCity. This is a soap opera thick with
testetorone and people who move more baggage than the handlers at
SFO. This is a tragicomedy and though it’s been on now for three
years, it’s establishing a place for itself as a place for creativity
and edge. A lot of people like The Sheild for many of the same reasons
that I touted Rescue Me. As far as I’m concerned the difference is
significant. Leary is one of those guys who will keep you watching
long after the train goes off the tracks.

5) 30 Rock on NBC. This is a prime time network half-hour comedy
that’s
on summer hiatus. This is a very popular elevision show and one of
my best examples for how even that an entertainment division of GE
can provide top shelf comedy without strip mining our intelligence.
The network has already done everything it needed to do to bring the
show back for another season. The show makes good use of Alec Baldwin
who was making a career of hosting Saturday Night Live and of Tina Fey
(who wanted a career outside of Saturday Night Live). This is one of
those shows that will make you laugh out loud and also feels like it
will suffer from it’s own success. Watch it while you can.

Again, if you know of some personal favorites that you think are
worthy of our time…let us know.

As for Jamie Lee, I watched all 17 episodes of “Anything But Love”
which she did with Richard Lewis , which is probably 17 more episodes
than she watched herself. I also know she did a Love Boat episode so
it’s probably best she not look down on those of us who are drawn to
a Top Chef or Amazing Race.

by Fritz

San Francisco- On the wake of a disastrous launch interview with Crooked Street Press reporter Chip Burns, Mason V. Neibaum (the “V” stands for Victory) has dug a huge hole.

Monday Neibaum was on the Chip Burns Show as a way to announce to San Francisco that he would be running for mayor against the very popular Mayor Gavin Newsom. During the interview Burns asked some tough questions as he is known to do of which Neibaum was ill prepared. Shortly after Neibaum sat down, Burns was already asking him about his alcoholic past and if that was the worst thing that was discussed Neibaum would still have had a hole to dig out of, but there was more.

“You know, I told him Burns does this to people.” Fred Taylor, Neibaum’s campaign manager said. “Neibaum got walked over there’s no way around it.”

The Neibaum camp had wanted to try and work this summer on letting people of San Francisco know that the current mayor Gavin Newsom has had an affair and is therefore not trustworthy. But shortly after the alcohol scandal Burns uncovered a shocking sex scandal from Neibaum. Burns reported that Neibaum has had sex with other women besides his wife. Neibaum claimed that the sexual crusade took place during college long before he had met Nancy Neibaum. A CSP poll was taken after the Chip Burns Show where questions were asked if they thought Neibaum was lying or if he just wasn’t telling the truth. The poll showed that 51% thought that Neibaum was lying while 47% thought that he wasn’t telling the truth and 2% were sleeping when asked the questions.

A Booze Scandal and a Sex Scandal would be hard for any political candidate to overcome let alone both at the same time three minutes into the launch of one. Chip Burns with his excellent ability to ask the tough questions was able to uncover from Neibaum that he was Anti-Jew as well, when he told Burns that he wanted Ed Jew out of office. The Jewish Community is up in arms over this anti-Semitic remarks while Neibaum claims that it’s not anti-Semitic since he was talking about a “asian guy from Sunset district.”

“If his last name was “Bob” we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Neibaum said. “I was trying to let people know that I want to clean up the city government.”

A CSP poll was taken and 85% feel that “Bob” is not a very good last name.

With a campaign that seems to have been cursed, Neibaum pressed forward in the interview, but as he was leaving, Burns uncovered a secret gay lover for Neibaum in his campaign manager Fred Taylor, although again Neibaum denied it up and down and left the sound stage in a huff over this issue.

“We shared a tent one time while camping.” Fred Taylor explained. “If that’s gay then I don’t know what is.”

A CSP poll was taken and 65% said that sharing a tent was gay and the rest were sleeping when the questions were asked.

“I wanted my campaign to have a better start than this.” Neibaum said. “I really want to do good in the world. It just seems that the interview got away from me.”

Neibaum is scheduled to have a debate on the Chip Burns Show in late August, but many Newsom supporters feel that Neibaum won’t last that long.

“This is election is in the bag.” Josh Garrison, a Newsom supporter said.

Hello everyone. My name is Chip Burns. Today we have Mason V. Neibaum as our guest. Mr. Neibaum is a calculator watch salesman with Johnson’s Watch Emporium on Nob Hill. He is a husband of Nancy Neibaum and a father to one daughter. He is on my show today to make an announcement. Mr. Neibaum what do you have for us?

Well Mr. Burns, I ….

Don’t call me Mr. Burns.

Well Chip, I….

Nope. Don’t like that either.

Chip Burns?

That’s okay.

Well Chip Burns, I am on your show to announce my intentions of running for mayor of San Francisco.

And when is the election?

Uh…November?

You heard here first folks! Big November election coming up! Better get out and vote! Now Mr. Neibaum…What makes you think you’ll be a good mayor for San Francisco?

N: Well because I am trustworthy, I care about the homeless, and I….

Cb: Do you drink Mr. Neibaum?

Uh…well on occasion I like to have a glass of….

You heard it here folks! Like Newsom like Neibaum both raging alcoholics. He can’t stop putting down the glass; he’s got to have just one more!

Now wait a second I didn’t say that I….

Have you ever had sex with someone other than your wife Mr. Neibaum?

What?!

Just answer the questions.

Well, before I was married in college I…

You heard it hear! Alcoholic Neibaum running around sleeping with anything that moves!

This is outrageous! I’ve never said anything like that!

What do you think of the corruption of Ed Jew, Mr. Neibaum?

Finally a normal question. It is unfortunate that the current Supervisor Ed Jew has made our top spots in city government so corrupt. If elected mayor I will do everything in my power to end the corruption that is alive in this position. I will kick Jew out of office!

You heard it here folks! Mason The-Drunk-Sex-Addict-Anti-Jew Neibaum running for mayor.

Anti-Jew?

Cleaning up San Francisco politics by getting rid of Jew and sleeping his way to the top!

This not called for! I never said anything like that and you know it. I demand that you take that back.

Vote Neibaum if you like to drink, sleep around with college women, and your anti-Jew.

Nancy? What is happening? Where is Fred?

Who is Fred? Probably a gay lover.

Fred is my campaign manager and I am not gay!

You heard it here folks! Anti-Jew and anti-gay Neibaum looking to run for mayor on an alcohol and sex platform. Vote Neibaum in November!

This interview is over!

Join us next week when we talk with a Muni bus. Good day everyone.

Connecticut – Anne Hennigar, 1996 graduate of NYU School of Law and 11-year staff attorney in Connecticut’s Office of the Attorney General, was promoted two days ago and is now the state’s youngest Attorney General ever. Apparently the whole dang state government recognized Anne’s hard work, incredible legal talent and overall virtue. Even her peers acknowledged that if anyone deserved the top job, it was Anne. In a press conference today announcing the promotion, Connecticut Governor John DeVine gushed about how much he looked forward to working with Anne, what an inspiration she was to the nation’s children and blah blah blah.

Ms. Hennigar will assume responsibility for a department with over 8,000 talented attorneys, paralegals and staff. Her job will involve numerous meetings with powerful people, business trips with a posse of staff and complicated strategic decisions affecting the lives of countless thousands if not millions. Much of it will have to remain secret, it is that important. Most people wouldn’t be able to understand what Anne will be doing let alone do it. As important and frankly exciting as her job is, it will be far from the most important thing she does in the rest of her career. Even bigger things await.

We interviewed a few of Hennegar’s classmates by telephone, usually after long pauses before they took our call. Carlos Antunez, a struggling South Florida probate attorney said quietly, “I’m so happy for her.” We could barely hear him over the sound of the espresso machine in his law office/coffee shop. “Really, congratulations,” he continued. (We heard just then a sharp yelp from a dog before he hung up; it was probably nothing.) We knocked on the door of another classmate, Rose Pendergast. Rose met us at the door in a terry cloth bathrobe stained with melted Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream. “I haven’t been able to leave the house since I heard the news. The good news of course,” she said in a tired voice.

Mr. Antunez’ colleague, estate planning attorney and Tourette’s Syndrome sufferer George Henry put it bluntly: “Hennigar has been practicing for 9 years fewer than me and I’ll never be what she is. Hennigar makes me hate my F&%$g S*#@!e of a life.”

San Francisco- Treasure Island will be back in the movie business again. It’s been a while since Hollywood stopped by and so it’s a welcome sight to see the equipment trucks and catering vans tying up traffic near the old aircraft hangers again. Past shoots like Indiana Jones, Nash Bridges, The Hulk, and Flubber are just a few of the minor classics to come from the spooky, empty base in the Bay.

“It’s destined to be a blockbuster! ” says local Bay Area film producer, Toots Brione.

“Transformers just opened a door that was destined to be opened and I think we found the best medium you could ask for. The audience has been waiting far too long. It’s time we give them what they want.”

And what has Toots so excited?

Mousetrap.

Not the film adaptation of Agatha Christie’s brilliant play. That was done and that’s THE Mousetrap. No, this is the film adaptation of Ideal’s wacky 1963 Boardgame. It’s known throughout the world for it’s Rube Goldberg-like mouse trap. Constructed along with the progress of the plastic mice, the astounding contraption involves a wide range of working accessories including a boot, a diver, a bowling ball and a stop sign.

Famous as the game may be, the question has to be asked….Are you kidding me?

“Transformers showed how we can take a game and make it big. Really make it bigger than a cartoon. Forget about storyline for a moment,” says Brione. “Plot developement can bog down a story. This is a game that shoots itself. You can already see how much we learned from Clue.” (’85 Tim Curry and Martin Mull).

Though few actors have been linked to this project, it’s expected that the dialogue might be secondary to the special effects lined up for what may be the most expensive Mouse Trap known to man. Academy Award nominee special effects whiz, Dash Lascoe says that the sky is the limit for this unique feature.

“There was a point where we had to have the hammer wallop the heel of a boot. It can’t be just any kind of boot because without it, we’ve got no flame throwing lamp post. That sequence is scheduled for 15 days and $400,000 and I know that if I need to go longer or spend a little more…I only need to ask. It’s a pleasure to be working with true artists again.”

One would expect there would be a good deal of pressure on first-time Director Chai Lamb, but the young man sees this as a chance to express a message he’s wanted to express his whole life. He feels fortunate to be given such an opportunity at 24 years old.

“By the time most people get to the Diver, they want to be done with the game. They want to move on already, lets see the thing work then go outside and play. I think I can bring movie goers into that Diver’s head. Let them know the terror, the joy, the sense of purpose. This is where a lot of movies get lazy. I know there’s a message here and I also know we’re going to be able to blow a lot of things up. It’s really really a very special project for everyone openly attached.”

The door may have indeed been opened. Hollywood is buzzing with anticipated game-inspired blockbusters. Jenga starts filming in Atlantic City in Sept with Garey Busey and Maya Rudolph. Operation has been optioned to Harvey Keitel, considered by many to be another opportunity for Keitel to be naked for most of the picture. Other names looking to go before the cameras are Snakes and Ladders and an Italian version of the classic party favorite Twister.

Toots insists that the game inspired movies have been around for a lot longer than most people realize.

“Who,” queries Brione,” hasn’t watched Das Boot and wanted to yell…’hey, you sunk my battleship!’

As an enormous Italian marble bathtub gets raised high overhead; there’s a contagious sense of awe in what may transpire over the next month and a half. Even those who didn’t know Life from Stragego can’t help but be moved.

It’s definitely not feeling like a Risk.

San Jose- It was just another ordinary day for Rich Lark, San Jose retiree. Little did he know that an e-mail, mistakenly sent to his “spam” box would change his life forerver. Crooked Street Press interviewed Mr. Lark recently to find out how he made his instant millions.

CSP: Good Afternoon Mr. Lark.

RL: Greetings poor person! (Laughs abruptly) I’m just teasing. But seriously though, you are poor compared to me.

CSP: Perfectly fine Mr. Lark. If I made 2.3 million dollars in 3 weeks, I would gloat to.

RL: Well that’s the amazing thing! You CAN make millions of dollars in three weeks!

CSP: Well yes, let’s start by you telling me how you did it Rich.

RL: Well, I had just got done with my Hollywood Word Jumble, and was about ready to take my nap.

CSP: I see. So just a little afternoon siesta, eh?

RL: No, this was my 9am nap. I had been up since 4:30 AM, so I was just about tuckered out.

CSP: I think this is going to be a long interview…

In fairness to the reader, portions of this interview have been deleted due to this reporters inability to stay awake. These stories were really boring…In an effort to stay awake during the interview, I went outside for a smoke, and when I returned, Rich was just wrapping up his explanation of why Matlock showed more pride in his work than Magnum P.I. Apparently, my absence was not noted by Mr. Lark. At this point, the interview resumed.

CSP: I see, very intriguing. Now about the money?

RL: Ah yes, as I was saying, I was just about to lie down for my noon nap, when I heard my computer announce, “You have electronic mail.”

CSP: Your computer said “You have electronic mail?” Is that the new version of AOL or something?

RL: What’s A-O-L?

CSP: Eh, never mind. So what about the computer?

RL: As I was saying, poverty boy, it announced that I had electronic mail waiting for me. So I went to the World Wide Web and checked it and sure enough I had three electronic mails.

CSP: (hesitatingly) Please, uh, tell me what they said.

RL: Well the first one was from a gentleman named Alphonse Starks, and it was entitled “I’ve got a 12 inch erjjigcn.” I’m not sure what that one was about, or what a ‘erjjigcn’ was since it did not show up in my dictionary, so I sent it back to the sender with a note that it had been wrongly delivered.

CSP: Oh boy…

RL: The second one was from someone named Vishakha Hoffman and it said “Bigger pen1s, better s3x! pfigjnbt.”

CSP: Thank you for literally spelling that out. About the money….

RL: That’s where the third electronic mail came from.

CSP: E-mail.

RL: What?

CSP: E-mail.

RL: What?

CSP: (Loudly) What the hell did the third e-mail say you Old Man!

RL: Okay then…well basically long story short, a prince from Nigeria, -whose name I have sworn on my life and honor to keep a secret… sent me an electronic mail stating that he was a political refugee, and that he had escaped from Nigeria and was hiding in exile in Egypt. He had large sums of money in Nigeria, but the only way to get the money from Nigeria to Egypt was to run it through a third account so that it could not be traced. Over a series of electronic mails, we arranged the swapping of bank account numbers. All I had to was send him $3000 to pay for the arrangements, and he would take care of the rest. When it was all said and done, he would send me a cashier’s check for 2.3 million.

CSP: So what happened?

RL: What do you mean?

CSP: You lost the money and then what?

RL: I didn’t lose the money. He sent me a check for 2.3 million three weeks ago. Now I eat reporters like you for breakfast.

CSP: What??

RL: The point is, Prince Akbar Abdul Jihimmeh, OOPS…I mean…uh….Prince um…Bob, kept his word and sent me the check.

CSP: Do you mean to tell me you are the first person in the course of history to actually make money on a Nigerian Scam?

RL: Scam? What do you mean? Prince Ak…Prince Bob is my friend. He saw my my space page and knew that I was someone he could trust.

CSP: You have a MySpace page?

RL: Its not your space, its my space.

CSP: So what’s your advice?

RL: Basically all Americans are selfish pricks. Everyday millions of letters and electronic mails are sent to people, and they don’t even bother reading them, let alone replying to them. Oh, and heaven forbid we help someone in a third world. It just goes to show you that if you help someone out, you will be rewarded.

CSP: So the moral of the story is open your spam?

RL: What’s spam?

CSP: Thank you for your time Mr. Lark.

RL: That’s Gold Nuts to you, penny scrimper.

by Fritz

San Francisco- Estate Planner George Henry came down with a severe case of tourette syndrome about 9 months ago strangely enough while he was in front of a judge in a court room. Henry says that the last nine months has been hard on himself and loved ones around him “especially the people that make me mad F&#@ SH** B*^%#!” Where it has been especially tough is on the job as an estate planner to families that have lost members of their family and Henry starts to blurt out rants of swear words. Many times the swearing goes on for several minutes especially around the time the fees for his service are debated by the grieving family.

“When he swore in my court room after I over ruled against him on an objection, I about threw the book at him.” Judge Thurgood Thompson said. “Then he told me that he had tourettes. But I had never heard him swear before. From that point forward until the end of the case he would put on a swearing clinic. In my gut…I think most of it was directed at me.”

“Don’t get me started on F&#@ SH** B*^%# Judge Thurgood Thompson.” Henry said.

Henry and his family have been living with his condition for about 9 months now and his family has adjusted to this sudden problem. “I think the kids like it because it gives them new ideas.” Margaret Henry said. “Usually the episodes happen when I ask George to wash the dishes. He’ll rant for about twenty minutes or so but then he eventually does them.”

“I hope someday my F&#@ SH** B*^%# condition will subside.” Henry said. “But until then people had better leave me the F&#@ SH** B*^%# alone.”

“The last words I heard him say was that he just wanted one more.” Lucy Chang Buffalo Wings waitress

by Fritz

San Francisco- In an effort to find the ultimate chicken wing Sammy Golds and Morty Wallace chose to watch the Major League Baseball All-Star game at a local greasy spoon called the Buffalo Wing Express. Golds and Wallace died later that night due to an explosion.

“They came to table 10 and the bald one screamed out that he wanted the “Bucket O’ Wings” with “extra spicy sauce”, so when the other bald one didn’t object I just did what I was told. “Lucy Chang a waitress and witness said.

Scientists say that the Bucket O’ Wings at the Buffalo Wing Express has about forty fried chicken wings that are then “super injected” with a hot sauce that is really just a mild tranquilizer for fighting wooly mammoths in case of a ice age. The scientists also admit that they maybe mixing up reading the menu and a discussion they had earlier regarding Global Warming.

Nonetheless, the two bald men pursued the Bucket O’ Wings after Chang had delivered it to their table.

“I could see that both of them were in obvious pain yet they kept on eating.” Chang said. “Why would someone do that to themselves I don’t know but these guys seemed to really enjoy it.”

“I think it was suicide.” An old man said. “I think it was a terrorist plot by chicken wing.” CSP moved away from the old man.

Golds and Wallace exploded shortly after ordering what investigators are calling the “igniting agent” which was a scoop of blue cheese. The explosion took out both men and destroyed was left of the bucket and table 10. Although no one else was hurt according the old man who kept following us it may have been a suicide by chicken wing terrorist plot.

Daly City- Former Giant Dustan Mohr captured this years Bunt Contest as he laid down a bunt down the third base line just keeping it fair to pass Diamond Backs third baseman Augie Ojeda.

Players that were not in the All-Star ballot radar took the field in some T-Ball field in Daly City Monday as the Home Run Derby was taking place. Crooked Street Press was among the media affiliates that were not allowed into AT&T Park so CSP was forced to cover the Bunt Contest with Major League scrubs.

Dustan Mohr, outfield for the Tampa Bay Devil Somethings, took the top spot over Ojeda, and the DH for the Seattle Mariners Ben Broussard took the third spot. Elementary school children shagged the balls as the MLB players had their personal hitting coaches lob the baseballs in for strikes so the players can bunt them.

CSP was not able to find anyone in the stands as no one was there to watch. This is a all time low for Crooked Street sports.

San Francisco- As this city just passed a No Intolerant Looks Law San Francisco will be practicing what it preaches as another fringe candidate has entered the fray against popular Mayor Gavin Newsom. Announcing early Monday from a cellophane wrapping at the Safeway in Diamond Heights, Tuna Fish Sandwich has turned in the required 10,000 signatures needed to run for the city’s top office.

“I love Tuna Fish Sandwich.” Buck Billy, truck driver said. “I’d vote for him.”

Some opponents to the Tuna Fish Sandwich is a concern on how long the sandwich actually stay in the race due to the high probability of being eaten or going bad altogether.

“I don’t know how these wacko’s are getting to run for mayor.” George Penny said. “We need to up the standards or something.” Crooked Street Press called the police on George and had him arrested for “attempted intolerant thoughts.”

Newsom’s aide, Butch Butchinson, was overheard in the bathroom saying that he doesn’t think the Tuna Fish Sandwich has much of a chance. Although he would not go on the record as saying so.