Alas, my camera crapped out over this past weekend's massive Critical Mass/LoveFest/Folsom Street Fair miasma -- but these little critters from LA artist Todd's David & Goliath line ("We make stupid stuff so you don't have to") somehow summed up my entire three-day -- and all-night -- experience. Pass the Advil, darling.

All bears $10

Candy raver or dominatrix? Both

Last night's 3rd trick

Thanks for the D&G inbox heds-up from raging actress and singer Mare Costello

What, me worried? Photo by James Maclennan.

By Ben Sinclair

While Neil Hamburger, the oldest and most haggard to receive the title “America’s Youngest Comedian,” is generally enough to handle on his own, having an act like Pleeseasaur (hardly related to the plesiosaur, ancient Loch Ness monster-resembling reptile of the underwater world) open for him felt overstimulating. Not in a bad way, as this is the humor of estrangement, but each performer so demands your attention that to keep laughing for the length of their set can be a trying task. However, on Saturday, Sept. 27, at the Hemlock Tavern, this task was well worth it.

Hamburger brought his repertoire of dark, so-bad-they’re-awesome jokes, told between spates of phlegmy, audience-snuffing smoker’s coughs and interspersed with long digressions.

He also played a game with hecklers: at one point he launched into a series of compliments directed at a few women in front of the stage. Someone yelled, “Tell some jokes!” Hamburger then accused him of having no respect for “these pretty laaadies," so he asked if the audience would pay, in dimes, the amount of the guy’s ticket in order to get him out. An even better use for these coins, he continued, would be to stack them on the guy’s face as he lay down and stomp a long narrow hole through his forehead.

Tenacious D tourmate Neil Hamburger stalks the red carpet at the premiere of Tenacious D in the Pick of Destiny. Photo by Simone Turkington.

By Chris DeMento

Designer toilet lid covers: a stylish new commode-ity?

I know. On the surface, it's another pisspoor excuse for bad punning, a miserable plastic something or other you don't really need. So, if you're feeling socially responsible, you might want to ignore this fantastic new product . . . join hands with your fellow mans, recline in the park with your head resting on a djembe, somnolently chant and defy Time, and drop an occasional al fresco deuce. Namaste.

But for all you patriotic spenders out there, put down your iPhone and your MGD, and get your face out of that deliciously carcinogenic apple pie so you can accessorize your American poop room.

Visit www.Toilet-Tattoos.com and check out the many ways you can now bring a little jazz to that ass. (Those raggedy shag covers are beyond passé.) The ready-to-apply patterns range in appearance from the conservative (see Wallpaper, and Classic) to the capricious (see Artist Canvas). Installation is simple. And if you want to change things up, just remove, wipe clean, and re-apply a different toilet tat. Try on a Seasonal number for the holidays. Bored with convention? Design your own lid cover and have your all your neighbors lighting a second match just to see what the fuck that is on top of your toilet seat.

You need this like you need the Container Store. But nothing says, "Welcome, shit inside me," quite like one of these.

By Kevin Langson

Breaking Ranks, which plays at SF DocFest Oct 2 and 3, will surely be appreciated by anyone still engaged with and infuriated by the war in Iraq. It’s particularly powerful to hear the first hand accounts of US soldiers who have been there and have changed their minds -- and have withdrawn their support from an endeavor they now see as a malicious folly. The film tells the story of four Americans who joined the military for reasons as clear and practical as needing a viable economic option, to more abstract motivations such as needing to be a part of something bigger than themselves. The first part of the film interweaves their change-of-heart testimonies with footage from Iraq that correlates with the atrocities they describe. These men all seem clear-headed, assured, and conscientious, so it is hard to imagine their compatriots -- or even their own family members -- shunning them as cowardly traitors. The film later becomes about their plight to attain official refuge in Canada so as to not face disdain and imprisonment in the US. Their families and wives or girlfriends also figure into this story about torn relationships and standing up for one's beliefs.

Film subject Brandon Hughey.

Breaking Ranks' looming question? Whether or not the Canadian government will have the gall to make a move that is not obsequious to the US government and grant these men refuge.

More info on the film here.

By Amber Peckham

The United States has imported a lot of great things from the United Kingdom -- the Beatles, the Mini, and David Beckham are some of my all time favorites. And now there’s one more import contending for one of my top spots: Streetsmart4Kids.

Sure, it's cute. But can it get kids off the streets? We didn't think so. (Unless, you know, you buy one for the street kids. But dinner is cheaper.)

By Amber Peckham

Opera is kind of like really kinky sex; some people are afraid to try it because they don’t think they’ll like it, but almost everyone who tries it loves it. If you’ve been hesitating to have your first experience (we’re talking opera now, not sex; you can figure the sex out on your own) tonight’s the perfect opportunity to ease yourself into the opera scene.

For $25, tonight San Francisco State University hosts its second annual Opera Gala, where patrons will enjoy highlights from popular operas performed by current students and alumni of the university’s renowned vocal and opera program.

SFSU production of The Magic Flute

I completely spaced that last Thursday, Oct 4, was World Animal Day (known to the more ecumenical among us as the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi) -- I was probably busy beating my kitty. KIDDING! I was beating my fish. But fur flew in the City, I bet, as many people hauled their four-footed friends to church to have them blessed.

No comment on that. (What's the Latin for ringworm again? Tinea.) But there's a pretty nifty gallery show right now at David Cunningham Projects in SoMa that pays tribute to the wee people in fur coats, called "Animal Rites." It features works of artists as various as Ireland's Michael Beirne, fab homegirl Kerri Lee Johnson, and even an anonymous artist from the 17th century. Stop by and pet your eyes. And click here for more info, including some more neato images.

Michael Beirne, Untitled, 2004

Kerri Lee Johnson, Rabbithead girl, boy, horse

"Animal Rites"
Through Nov. 10
David Cunningham Projects
1928 Folsom, SF
415-341-1538
www.davidcunninghamprojects.com

My first morning at this year’s Vancouver International Film festival brought Riri Raza’s 3 Days to Forever. Though a colleague loves Raza’s 2002 Eliana, Eliana, I’ll admit that a more basic form of curiosity drew me to his latest movie. One of its stars is Nicholas Saputra, a pop culture idol in Indonesia, who shared a very rainy boat ride with me and a few dozen other people at the Vancouver fest two years ago. On that particular gray Sunday, Saputra occasionally walked over to a director and I and would talk with us, only to quietly go off and then come back again. Back then, Saputra was at the fest because he had the title role in Gie, Raza’s follow-up to Eliana, Eliana.

Fueled by cinema love more than just biz deal BS, the Vancouver International Film Festival offers a chance to not only see films by upcoming directors, but also to see the directors themselves outside the movie theatre. One great example this year was a night in which Serge Bozon, director of the acclaimed La France, transformed into DJ Bozon.

At an upstairs bar on Richards Street, Bozon spun 45s from his collection of rare ‘60s garage rock, Northern Soul and Motown vinyl. Cinemascope editor and VIFF programmer Mark Peranson told me that Bozon has paid thousands of dollars on eBay for a single coveted disc. It’s not for nothing that this director has a film (which I'd love to see) titled Mods: he was coiffed and styled like a Gallic cousin of Linton from SF’s gone but not forgotten Popscene progenitors the Aisler’s Set. In a nod to the Northwest, he played the Sonics. But what about his movie?

By Justin Juul

"It's a shame that the only thing a man can do for eight hours a day is work. He can't eat for eight hours; he can't drink for eight hours; he can't make love for eight hours. The only thing a man can do for eight hours is work."
–William Faulkner

Day jobs are terrible, soul-crushing, things for most people, but they can actually inspire thoughts of suicide and murder in those with high aspirations -- like writers, for example. Such was the case with the literary giants who spoke at Porchlight / Litquake’s recent shindig, “I’d Prefer Not To: Writers Talk About Day Job Hell,” and such is the case with me. I have been working non-stop since the age of fourteen and I have hated every minute of it with all my heart. But what can you do, right? Until someone offers to pay me a living-wage for writing, I’m just gonna have to keep on hustling. I got bills and shit, ya know?

Crispin Glover as Bartleby, the Melville character who made "I'd prefer not to" a revolutionary cry.

A coffee mug stencil of Crispin Glover by Mr. Juul. We'll leave the implications to Baudrillard, thanks.

The pretty dang famous writers who spoke at The Swedish American Hall on Monday were able to laugh and make jokes about working because they don’t have to do it anymore. These days they just kick back and enjoy wealth and fame and appreciation and respect and adoration and I fucking hate them all. God!

Here’s a partial list of the shitty positions they held before they got their big breaks.

By Amber Peckham

If you were inspired by the cool and quirky products in our Style insert this week, make sure you take a few hours to check out the CAPSULE Design Festival this Sunday in Hayes Valley (all around the Hayes Valley Green). Around 140 Bay Area and West Coast designers will be there, all independent, all unique, and all chic.

Mediums To Masses

This showcase of Bay Area creativity goes above and beyond the normal street fair fare, offering everything from Hilary Williams’s handmade stuffed toys made from scrap fabric to the meticulously crafted tablewares of Mediums to Masses. (And of course, waaaay too much adorable clothing and jewelry to even begin to mention.) Whatever your tastes or price range, there is sure to be at least one must-have in the two block spread of style, and a complete list of the designers who will be there is on the event’s website, with each named handily linked to an information page. If you intend to go check it out, it might be wise to scout out your favorites ahead of time, as odds are the products will be going fast—over 6000 people are expected to attend.


Creepy? Doll from Hilary Williams

CAPSULE Design Festival
Sunday, October 14, 2007
11:00 am-6:00 pm
Hayes Valley Green
Octavia and Hayes Streets, SF
www.capsulesf.com

By Jonathan Beckhardt

As you know, you're supposed to feel guilty whenever you take part in an activity. Everything from wasting your mind with TV to wasting the planet with hot-tubbing. And yes, this of course includes drinking. (Just think about the emissions produced from Budweiser clydesdale manure alone!) It's not just the contributions to global warming that should make you feel guilty as you relax with a drink. You're probably also supporting a corporate culture that has pushed the little guy out, and is keeping him from coming back in. How much Makers Mark is produced a year? Let's put it this way, if you were to stretch the yachts of corporate tycoons from end to end, Makers Mark produces enough whisky to feed their upkeep staff for a year!

Now how can the small guy compete with that? It's difficult but some people are trying to help. If you haven't yet made your plans for Saturday night, consider checking out the Independent Spirits Fest, sponsored by Celtic Malts ("A Celtic spiritual journey"). The night features over 30 micro-distilleries and independent bottlers.. There are bound to be many you haven't come across, and they're all hand-crafted and cared for, just like the big guys used to do. On top of that, there will be chocolates, cheeses, and a dinner buffet. That's some kind of nifty independence.

Independent Spirits Fest
Saturday, Oct. 13
Doors open at 6:30pm
Call for price
W Hotel
888-748-2440
www.celticmalts.com

By Amber Peckham

When I heard the phrase “Living Word Festival” my first instinct was to think of some sort of religious revival in the back woods somewhere, with white robes and bathing in the river and people dancing with snakes. I was very far wrong, as any informed cultural citizen of the Bay probably already knows.

The Living Word Festival is a series of events that began on October 6 and ends on November 3. These events are taking place on both sides of the Bay, in all forums and flavors, from a day long discussion, concert, and dance battle tonight, Oct. 12 at Yerba Buena Gardens to the return of internationally acclaimed theater piece Scourge, which began its tour in San Francisco and will return as one of the key closing events for the festival in November. A full listing of events is available at the website of the event’s sponsor, Youth Speaks.

Scourge

Youth Speaks is an organization that originated in San Francisco with the goal of providing youth the ability to express themselves through all forms of media, a goal that is evident in the vibrant showcase of events the festival is offering. And even though they aren’t dancing in the woods with snakes -- there is much more class here -- there is a spirituality to their mission and in their events, a desire to express, to connect, and ultimately, to enact positive change through culture.

My favorite part about this whole event is the way the invitation is signed -- “With A Radical Acceptance and Abundance”. To me, that is exactly what this event, with the theme of “Traditions in Transition”, embodies; a celebration of the state of flux our society is in, and a promise for acceptance, whatever your story may be.

Youth Speaks Presents: The Living Word Festival
Curated by the Living Word Project
under the direction of Marc Bamuthi Joseph
contemporary urban poetry/ dance/theater/funk/hip-hop

Oct 6- Nov 3, 2007
Events vary in price and age restriction.
www.youthspeaks.org

By Chris DeMento

According to its Halloween press release, Coinstar claims the average household has nearly $90 in loose change just hanging out under the couch cushions. These are 90 entirely expendable dollars. Coinstar suggests you spend your loose coin (after having it counted for a small fee at one of their machines, of course) on your creepy-adult-whatever costume; then, after all the trick-or-treating, your kids can pay Coinstar to count up the dimes given them by crazy old ladies from the Sunset. It's all very convenient.

Yet even as Coinstar attempts to leverage consumer interest in Halloween buffoonery, nudging you toward its coin-counting haunts, questions remain: where do you find a Coinstar machine in this city? And dude, does anybody have $90 worth of change lying around? That's a load of malarkey.

Photo from www.engadget.com
C'mon. You're better than that.

In her story collection The Entire Predicament, author Lucy Corin investigates the unstable line between public and private life
By Amanda Davidson
lit@sfbg.com

Dangling by one ankle in the front doorway of her house, the narrator of “The Entire Predicament,” the titular story in Lucy Corin’s new collection, regards the world from an upside-down vantage point. “My country’s at war,” she states, as if, tilted over, she can simply spill out this oft-suppressed information. As she twirls, slowly, suspended by a “network of ropes,” the unnamed protagonist observes the inside of her house and the outside world in alternating rotations. Inside, consumer totems of the good life -- “the desirable open floor plan” and “shining kitchen” -- turn out to lack substance. Doors are hollow; walls crumble at a touch. Outside, children, soldiers, and, mysteriously, a small giraffe collect on the lawn. “How did I get here?” the suspended narrator wonders.

By Amber Peckham

Mag ich ein Bier haben, bitte?

That’s German for “May I have a beer, please?” Memorize it, because burlesque-style Oktoberfest has come to San Francisco at last, thanks to the combined efforts of the Hubba Hubba Review and the DNA Lounge. The lederhosen-clad lovelies of Hubba Hubba will kick off the festivities around 10:15 this Friday with the best burlesque show this side of Bavaria, followed by magic and comedy acts, a DJ, and the swing stylings of local band Lee Presson and the Nails.

Mein Gott! So hot! Sparkly Devil and Kingfish strut their stuff onstage during a performance.

New Yorker critic Alex Ross surveys the many faces of 20th-century classical music
By Max Goldberg
lit@sfbg.com

“In the classical field it has long been fashionable to fence music off from society, to declare it a self-sufficient language,” Alex Ross writes in the preface to his new opus, The Rest Is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century. “In the hyper-political twentieth century, that barrier crumbles time and again.... My subtitle is meant literally; this is the twentieth century heard through its music.” This is a bit of a misrepresentation, since The Rest Is Noise is first and foremost a review of composers’ lives, but Ross is indeed working on a grand canvas, stitching together innumerable discrete innovations in a seesawing account of modern classical music’s volatile politics of style.

Smart and cute? Hubba hubba ...

Which is to say that while The Rest Is Noise may be telescopic as a political history -- the 20th century here belongs to Central Europe, Russia, and America, with only minor walk-ons for whole continents -- it’s entirely effective as a history of ideas. Ross, the classical music critic for the New Yorker, guides us with a generalist’s passion for connections and large-scale developments. He revels in the coincidences and overcrowding of the 20th century: in the way Richard Strauss’s life bridged Wagner to “American soldiers whistling ‘Some Enchanted Evening’” in Germany’s decimated cities; in the fact that two diametrically opposed titans of European composition (Schoenberg and Stravinsky) came to live miles apart in a Los Angeles teeming with émigrés (their neighbors included Thomas Mann, Theodor Adorno, Alma Mahler, and Aldous Huxley).

Running through these overlapping microhistories are the categorizations that define 20th-century music as a realm of ideas: dissonance and tonality, zeitgeist and heartland, modernism and pastiche.

Cuckoos, kindred spirits, flying machines, and Lauren Bacall all crop up in Joseph Cornell's shadow boxes, windows into his exquisitely finite yet infinitely malleable world, now on display at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. We asked three Guardian writers to piece together a few thoughts on the boxes that resonated.

JOSEPH CORNELL: NAVIGATING THE IMAGINATION Through Jan. 6, 2008. Mon.–Tues. and Fri.–Sun., 11 a.m.–5:45 p.m.; Thurs., 10 a.m.–8:45 p.m.; $7–$12.50 (free first Tues.). San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, 151 Third St., SF. (415) 357-4000, www.sfmoma.org

Untitled (Renee JeanMarie in La Belle Au Bois Dormant)

Framed by the tangled branches of a darkened wood whose blue-tinted foliage alternately resembles billowing clouds and tufts of feathers, a hazy image of a ballet dancer appears within a cerulean haze, her feet and hands extending into a Y whose end points — right hand, both feet — disappear into the blue ether. Have we come upon Titania in her bower in A Midsummer Night's Dream or Venus in her mountain stronghold in Tannhäuser?

As the title of Cornell's 1949 piece informs us, the dancer is Renée "Zizi" Jeanmaire, a glamorous ballerina of the 1940s known for the daring exuberance she brought to her roles. Cornell was a balletomane who compiled personal dossiers and dedicated shadow boxes to ballerinas both living and dead. Although he never met his beloved 19th-century diva Fanny Cerrito, Cornell made Jeanmaire's acquaintance, but the 25-year-old remained aloof to her shy fan's platonic advances. It is fitting, then, that the image of Jeanmaire used by the artist for this box is from her appearance in Pyotr Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty. Behind a veil of briars, in her crepuscular crystal cage, the dancer is transformed into the slumbering heroine of the Charles Perrault tale: an ethereal beauty suspended in time and inaccessibly distant. Only in Cornell's retelling there is no prince to break the enchantment. (Matt Sussman)

In response to last week's Super Ego column about rave visuals and the techno-optical dance floor wizardry of young projectionist 3, I received a very cryptic e-mail from one Woolsey Kitty, that read simply:

i took "lsd" more than 5,000 times.

and then directed me to a mindblowing Flickr account that contained hundreds of lysergically lovely imagery.

Woolsey is an artist in his 50s who claims to have have at one point amassed a 10,000+ drug research library (I don't really know what that means, but I suspect ... ) and to have only officially earned $2,143 in his lifetime. All the incredible details are here. Let's just drop back and enjoy ....

After the jump: More trippy pics PLUS shoegaze videos!

Hey, Wes Anderson fan – why haven’t you seen The Darjeeling Limited yet? It’s currently playing in both San Francisco and the East Bay, and while it may not capture the genius promised by Anderson’s “My Life, My Card” American Express commercial, it’s still a thoughtful, impeccably stylish look at what happens when three estranged brothers take a train ride across India, stumbling upon moments of spiritual enlightenment, family bonding, and the inevitable slew of life lessons. Anderson, co-writer Roman Coppola, and co-writer and star Jason Schwartzman were in town recently, so I packed my enormous set of monogrammed luggage with tapes and pencils, and took a wild taxi ride through the streets of San Francisco to their hotel.

Passage to India: Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson, and Adrien Brody on the road.

San Francisco Bay Guardian: Wes, I read that you got to know India through the movies. What initially drew you to the idea of setting a film there? When you got there, was the country how you expected it to be?

Wes Anderson: The movie that really made me want to go to India was [Jean Renoir’s 1951] The River, and that’s a different part of India from where we were, and it’s a different time. But I guess we sort of researched it a bit, and I felt like there was a lot that was what I expected, anyway. But then, for as much time as we’ve all spent in India, every day, every hour, we’re learning something new and being surprised by something. It’s just a place where there’s so much, and we’ve only scratched the surface.

Is there anything better than a grilled cheese sandwich? A cure for cancer would be nice. And I wouldn’t kick World Peace out of bed for eating crackers. But melted cheese and crispy bread? It’s so good, if it ran for President, I bet it’d beat Hillary and Obama (plus, it’s both likable and has experience – at least, as at being a sandwich).

In fact, the only thing better than a grilled cheese sandwich is the Grilled Cheese Invitational, an L.A.-based event dedicated to all things grilled and cheesy. And for the first time, this year the Bay Area’s gonna get its own shot at artery-clogging glory when the good GCI folks bring the competition to Eli’s Mile High Club on October 25.

Bread of dubious nutritional quality + cheese product of dubious dairy origin = sexy

Ed Note: We know this is a little late, breaking-news-wise, but we just can't seem to get over it. Especially while we're eating canned spinach for lunch.

By Duncan Scott Davidson

Boy, am I glad there are no Hardee’s restaurants in California, or I’d have to eat one of these:

That’s the Country Breakfast Burrito, made, according to www.hardees.com, with “2 loaded omelets, 5 hashrounds, shredded cheddar cheese, and sausage gravy.” Just so you know, a “loaded omelet” has eggs, bacon, and ham in it. Which, in layman’s terms, is 920 calories and 60 grams of delicious, pork-based fat. Which, really, is not a whole lot, compared to eating a whole suckling pig, or a Hardee’s chicken salad, which has 1100 calories and 83 grams of fat. I mean, at least the breakfast burrito won’t dupe you into thinking you’re making the healthy choice by getting the salad. Hell no--there’s no fuckin’ vegetable matter up in this bitch. Lettuce is for suckers. This is the type of thing you order and say, “I’m gonna order that, eat half of it while watching football, get a little comatose, maybe wake up and finish it and/or barf, and/or barf and finish it, then watch some more football, maybe jerk off to porn, and go back to sleep.” It’s not a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, gonna start the day right menu item, here, folks. It’s a plan of your Sunday. It’s a low-cost vacation in a tortilla, friends. Look at the gravy and cheese oozing out of that thing…if that doesn’t scream “relaxation,” I don’t know what does.

All the do-gooder internet nutrition-nazis are decrying this one-way ticket to Slumberland, as you knew they would: CNN, Fitsugar, Foodfacts ...

Of course, they’re getting it all wrong.

Driving out to Altamont Motorsports Park on the night after a full moon, just a few days before Halloween, even my metal-maimed eardrums could faintly hear the sound of Mick Jagger's famous plea for peace, uttered from the Altamont concert stage in 1970's Gimme Shelter: "Who's fighting, and what for?"

The cars that go boom.

Well, I'll tell ya, fighting on Oct 27 were some 50 roached-out, jerry-rigged race cars, hellbent less on victory than on the glory of completing 300 laps -- or in many cases, somewhat less -- at the track's annual Pumpkin Smash.

What about them pumpkins? The reason for the season, no doubt -- hundreds of orange mofos gave their lives valiantly for this event. The asphalt was luridly smeared with pumpkin guts and gallons of soapy water. Facilitating and maximizing smash-ups never looked so festive...nor made onlookers long so much for pumpkin pie.

Intrepid intern Soo Oh checks out custom countertops that are going to save the world.

By Soo Oh

Eco-friendly home improvement couldn't get classier than Vetrazzo. And by "classier," I mean "glassier." (I can't believe I just wrote that. Intern, get me some coffee! Wait. I am the intern. Damn.) Eight-five percent of Vetrazzo's smooth surfaces are made from recycled glass, the largest source of the company's sources coming from neighborhood curbside recycling programs. The rest of the surfaces are bound with a special blend of "cement, additives, pigments and other recycled materials such as fly ash — a waste by-product of coal burning power plants," according to the web site, which also says that manmade stone countertops contain petroleum-based resin (!).

This color is called Glass House. Make up the rich-people joke for yourself...

You can’t possibly be thinking about how much alcohol you shouldn’t have consumed at the seventeen Halloween parties you went to this weekend, or what kind of witty and ironic costume you’re going to make for the ones you’ll attend on Wednesday (because lord knows you can’t show up in the same thing you wore all weekend). No, I’m sure what you’re really wondering is: how was Oakland’s first Grilled Cheese Invitational?

The answer: badass.

Everyone knows it isn't really a party until someone dons a horse head.

By Justin Juul

If you’re anything like me, you have a few problems related to books, alcohol, and money. In a nutshell: you have too many shitty books, good beer is expensive, and you are broke. Well don’t freak out. Swap SF, the organization that hosts the Hyperbolic Clothing Swaps at Cellspace, is throwing a book swap (also at Cellspace) this Saturday, November 3rd.

There’s going to be extremely cheap diamond-label beer and coffee, beats by Poolboy & D and Maer, and a whole lotta books. The idea behind these swap things is that one man’s shit is another man’s gold, so just bring all the books that don’t make you look smart laying on your coffee table and then spend the day frantically searching for one’s that will. You’re bound to find something, and if you don’t, well, at least you’ll cop a buzz and clear some space right?

Leftovers go to charity, so even if you’re just trying to score some books and beer, you’ll still be clocking mad points on the old karma-meter. Be a hero. Be a freeloader. Be a little bit of both at Swap SF’s book party.

Saturday Nov 3, Noon to 3pm
CellSpace
2050 Bryant St. between 18th & 19th
$5 with books, $10 without.

Intern Chris DeMento likes to keep his pets and his merlots separate.

Some Californians just have too much time on their hands, plain and simple. And soon they will all move to Idaho, and soon I will be riding an eco-friendly Scooby Doo jetpack to CIIS to make a study of the Great White Californian Diaspora. Anyway. . . .

Did you know we have a dog lovers' wine club out here? Bet you didn't.Yes, the Dog Lovers’ Wine Club (DLWC), based in California of course, supports dog shelters and rescue operations nationwide. They also get drunk, too, which goes without saying, I guess.

Believe Me or Not