we drink the kool aid, so that you don't have to

Thursday, March 31, 2005

You May Talk o' Gin and Beer: Portland Spring Beer Fest 2005

by our resident inebriate, Crazy Marty



Critical Cloud's unquenchable thirst for knowledge sent Intrepid Reporter Crazy Marty (hey, doesn't 'intrepid' mean 'thirsty'?) to Portland, Oregon this past weekend to boldly go where no beer drinker has gone before. Exhibiting an overzealous dedication to the assignment, our IR (that journalism talk for Intrepid Reporter) returned a bit hung over, but still better informed about the status of Northwest brews. On second thought, he might be our RI (Resident Inebriate).

Held in the Oregon Convention Center, the venue was not pretty, but it was convenient with nearby street parking and very little traffic to deal with. Compared to San Francisco, Portland is a very cute city. It's a hard place not to like.

The admission was a slim $5 bill, but buying a glass and tokens (which would be exchanged for good sized tastes of beer) upped the entry fee to a not inconsiderable amount. Perhaps that is one way of reducing drunkenness, although most people certainly seemed more interested in tasting quality beers than in simple swilling, a phenomenon we see in most of our sports arenas.
The approach we took was to walk around the room once, making mental notes of which vendors had new or interesting beers and ales. In retrospect, it might have been quicker and much more efficient had we actually read the guide provided by the sponsors and given it our all in that manner. But, we had fun (there were four of us...two couples) although it turned out to be impossible to taste everything that seemed appealing.

Most serious beer drinkers have their favorite styles and we're no different. Stouts and Amber Ales (especially those with a lot of hops) are our favorites, with occasional forays into IPA’s (India Pale Ales). Getting to appreciate the great, but often sour tasting, beers of Belgium is our next project. It is what is known as self-improvement.

Hands down winner, among our group, was the Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout from California's own Ft. Bragg North Coast Brewing Company. This is not a new ale, but it is good enough to be included in Michael Jackson's (not that Michael Jackson) handsome volume, Great Beer Guide which pictures and describes "500 Classic Brews." Imperial Stout is much more alcoholic than the non-imperial version (think Guinness) and deserves a session devoted to sitting and enjoying its charms...easily enhanced with a fine cigar.

Besides the usual micro-breweries, such as Bridgeport Brewing, or Rogue Brewery (which has a satellite pub in North Beach...check it out) a number of small, single location, Oregon brew pubs took tables at the Fest, perhaps in an attempt to lure locals into their establishments. For the most part, it seemed that their output wasn't quite up to the quality of the more established micro-breweries, with full-time brewmasters, but who could taste everything?

There were representatives from some pretty distant breweries. The vaunted Young's brewery of London was there with their Double Chocolate Stout, as was a small brewery from Maine, called Allgash. Their specialty must be reproductions of legendary Belgian ales, and their Tripel (an extra strong golden ale, and quite hoppy) was a bit of a show hit.

If, instead of a cigar, you prefer a pipe with a spicy Latakia blend, may we suggest the Lagunitas IPA. Lagunitas had a booth at the show, and is from Petaluma, so it is not hard to find locally. Not all of our time in Portland was wasted drinking beer at the Beer Fest. We also wasted our fiber drinking beer in Portland restaurants and hotels. Number one in selection, volume, and quality has to be Higgins, which is conveniently located downtown near that other oasis of culture, the Portland Art Museum. Higgins has bottles of many hard to find Belgian and German beers, plus a fine list of drinks on tap. The food is excellent, geared to fresh Northwest fare and you can indulge in either the wood-lined bar or the linen-clothed dining room. Considering the number of pubs in Portland serving excellent beer, I'm surprised that there isn't a dispensary in the Portland Art Museum. There is, however, the Laurelwood Public House, which, while not acting as an art museum, can act as a baby sitting service, with its very own in-house nursery for children while the parents indulge in some in-house brews. It must look like a horror house to children who's parents turn nasty after a few drinks: "Come on darling, mommy and daddy are going to take you to that nice little house with the play-room while we have a few beers and discuss mommy's spending habits and daddy's visits to the strip club." Their Stout was very good, as was both the hamburger and vegetarian chili. Nor, we must add, did we detect any irritating bawling to disturb our studies. It's just off 23rd Ave., a street that, due to its Union Street (San Francisco) look is called "Trendy 3rd".

Even our hotel was ultra beer friendly. We stayed at the Kennedy School, an ex-elementary school, turned into a hotel (the class rooms were cut in half, each with its own private bathroom) with 4 bars and a brewery on premises. The favorites are the Cypress Room and Detention, both of which accommodate smokers. The other two rooms don't permit smoking and I can't imagine hanging out with anyone who would want to drink in the smoke-free Honors Bar. Can you? With a movie theater and sap on premises, you can see why this hotel, in a residential neighborhood, is a favorite of locals, perhaps more so than out of town guests.

But back to the beer festival. With 47 companies pouring two to three beers each, you can see how a weekend was just not enough time to test every offering. We plan to return next year with a plan of attack based on experience and not just lust. We'll stumble back then.

More info: Portland Spring Beer Fest

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Bad Boys of California: Zinfandels with Attitude

by el Greco



In your face and bold. Tangy and jammy. A slam dunk. They’re California’s bad boys, the Zinfandels. Some call it the only true American grape variety, but no one really knows where it came from. After we drank quite of bit of it, we had a lot of ideas, however.

We only intended to have a taste. The charming Linda Murphy (SF Chronicle Wine Editor) had invited about 30 of her closest friends over for a nip. You know, nothing serious, just a wee taste. No harm in that. And we promised ourselves we’d cut down on the drinking right after this. Honest.

We only had a little bit to drink. Hardly any.

There is a lot of Zinfandel grown in California. And as any self-respecting drunk knows, the big three Zinfandel wineries are Ravenswood, Rosenblum, and Ridge. Casually mention “the three R’s” in any wine conversation and you will instantly impress people with your expansive knowledge of wine. Guys, say something like, “Oh, if you’re interested in a nice Zin, you can’t go wrong with the three R’s.” Just toss it out like you have been discussing wine all your life. Girls will think you’re a regular wine connoisseur. Try to remember what the R’s stand for, otherwise she will figure out you’re just another lame ass trying to get into her jeans.

Now what food do you serve with your Zinfandel? Knowing that most of our readers enjoy their wine out of a paper bag, this is an excellent question. Zinfandel pairs up marvelously with nearly any meat—beef, pork, lamb. But the real secret with Zinfandel is to grill your accompanying food. A really good homemade burger with a kickass Zin is one of life’s finest pleasures. I do a grilled chicken breast with salsa and when you wash it down with a Zin—let’s just say you can die happy after that. But anything you toss on the grill and spice up will go nicely with nearly any Zinfandel. Even if you’re on a diet, no problem. You can skip the food, because that spicy Zin will go nicely with a full-bodied cigar and there’s virtually no carbs in that meal. If that ain’t living, brother, then I don’t know what is.

Now there are all kinds of Zinfandel drinkers and we had them all represented at this little soirée. The tall, lithe, blonde Anne gently sipped hers with all the savoir faire of a Jackie Kennedy. Heather, aka the Wild Irish Rose, tossed hers down like a sailor on shore leave and then had the affrontery to ask for seconds. The totally hot Tami was real quiet until after her fifth glass and then Linda couldn’t shut her up. We sampled eight different Zinfandels in something like two hours and I felt I learned a great deal. Specifically, I learned that I really like to be around cute girls drinking to excess.

el Greco and the Zinfandel Angels
(L to R) Linda, Heather, el Greco, Karen, Tami, Mimi, Anne

So here’s what we were drinking:

2002 Rosenblum Annette’s Reserve Redwood Valley ($30)
Lots of tannin but should mellow out after being cellared for a couple of years

2002 Ravenswood Dickerson Napa Valley ($30)
A little too herbal of a Zinfandel for my taste

2002 Bella Lily Hill Dry Creek Valley ($30)
Nice and spicy

2002 Ridge Lytton Springs Dry Creek Valley ($30)
A smooth blend with some Petite Syrah to even out the fruitiness

2002 Rosenblum Alegria Vineyard Russian River Valley ($22)
Wow! This was a fine Zin. Should cellar nicely or drink it now

2002 St. Francis Pagani Reserve Sonoma Valley ($45)
Very smooth and the oak shows nicely

2002 Montevina Deaver Vineyard Amador County ($30)
Jammy but otherwise average

2002 Klinker Brick Lodi Old Vine ($15)
Drinkable—pour this when you have party of nondiscriminating drinkers

My favorites were the Rosenblum Alegria and the St. Francis Pagani. Both very big, full-bodied wines with a lot going on. The bad news? You can hardly find either of them due to an extremely limited production. But would Critical Cloud leave you in the lurch? Perish the thought. Thanks to our intrepid research staff, we’ve brought you the full Zinfandel listing of the San Francisco Chronicle’s Wine Competition, without charge, that is unless you feel the pangs of compassion overwhelming you and want to contribute to the el Greco Foundation for the Enjoyment of Wine.

Zinfandel up to $13.99
Zinfandel $14.00 to $19.99
Zinfandel $20.00 to $29.99
Zinfandel $30.00 & over

Saturday, March 26, 2005

"Basqueing" in Tapas & Wine: Iluna Basque

by el Greco

Chances are when you think of the Basque country in the north of Spain, you think of terrorists blowing up cars or a really cool Frank Gehry building in Bilbao. Sure they’ve gotten a little bit out of sorts with their Spanish brethren, but hey, we all lose it every now and then, right? But any region that has the Guggenheim Bilbao and great food like we enjoyed at Iluna Basque, can’t be all bad.

We dropped in at Iluna Basque, the year old brainchild of 24 year old chef Mattin Noblia. Mattin came to the US in 2002 from his native Basque country to work for Gerald Higoyen (Piperade) and in 2004, opened his own place at the corner of Powell and Union (San Francisco).

We were ushered right in (yeah, they were real impressed with our Critical Cloud press passes) and shown to our table in a cozy sized restaurant of maybe 20 tables and a bar. The service, in a town where they mostly don't get it right, was just the way we like it. Both the hostess and our server were pleasant, attentive, and added just that touch of humor without being in our face. Our server in particular knew the menu very well and made some great suggestions. The hostess was real cute and, being the shameless dog I am, I made sure to check her out carefully. My date was so kind as not to smack me upside the head.

The menu is tapas style and yeah, we know, eventually even Burger King will have tapas. Iluna Basque is doing tapas from a part of the world where they were doing tapas before tapas was tapas. Got that? This is the real deal, folks. No cutesy little plates, but real Basque food artfully presented. We started with the roasted mussels in a garlic/parsley butter. We could smell the garlic on those mussels way before our server even got them to the table. And if you have any kind of brain at all, you will agree that it is damn near impossible to have too much garlic. Way tasty.

Our server then recommended a seared tuna with a bleu de basque sauce, which we readily agreed to. The tuna was a thinly sliced filet but grilled to a perfect medium rare. The blue cheese sauce was toned down just enough so that the strong cheese flavors didn't overpower the tuna. This one was our favorite of the evening. Plus the cute hostess walked by and smiled at us while we were enjoying it. Thank god, Crazy Marty was not there—he would have had an apoplexy right on the spot.

Ahi with bleu de basque sauce


Next up--the cassoulet xerri sangoa with sausage and lamp chop. This beautiful looking dish was utterly scrumptuous. Maybe the Basque stole cassoulet from the French, but the French are such pain in the butt people that they probably deserved to have it stolen. OK, so the French women are hot and dress to kill, the Basque still get to keep cassoulet in our opinion.

The wine list is populated with Spanish, Latin American, and yes, Basque wines. We ordered Etxegayara (try to pronounce that five times real fast) from the Basque country. Not many Basque wines make it to America, but after tasting this Syrah-like red, we think somebody should start shipping them over in container ships. Critical Cloud would even offer to do the inspections right at the port as the wine arrives.

We rounded out the evening with the beret basque chocolat mousse. We were sold. To hell with those goddam French, we’re eating Basque food from here on out.

Tell me all about Iluna Basque

Friday, March 25, 2005

Barry to the Bone

by el Greco



OK, you knew we couldn't resist getting in one more dig on Barry before the weekend started. So Critical Cloud is humbly offering up this anemic attempt at blues lyrics. Feel free to add your own inane stanzas in the comments section below.


Barry to the Bone

sung to the tune of George Thorogood’s Bad to the Bone

On the day I got to Frisco, sports writers gathered round
And they gazed in wide wonder, at my bod musclebound
Ray Ratto spoke up, said I gotta get on the phone
He could tell right away, that I was Barry to the bone
Barry to the bone
Barry to the bone
B-B-B-B-Barry to the bone
B-B-B-B-Barry
B-B-B-B-Barry
Barry to the bone

I broke 700 homeruns, before I met you
I'll break 56 more baby, if my knees get me through
I wanna be yours San Francisco, yours and yours alone
I'm here to tell ya honey, that I'm Barry to the bone

When I walk the streets, Pete Macgowan steps aside
Every sports writer I meet, wants a piece of my hide
I only used flaxseed, trying to get myself toned
I’m only Barry, Barry to the bone

I had me a girlfriend, same time I had a wife
Bought her a house, she was set for life
The ho shot her mouth off, I stopped paying her loan
She shoulda realized, I’m Barry to the bone

Now the Feds called me in, for a little chat
I said it was nothing, just me and my bat
Some cream from BALCO? Just leave me alone
Without my ‘roids, I’m just Barry to the bone
Barry to the bone
B-B-B-Barry
B-B-B-Barry
B-B-B-Barry
Barry to the bone

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Cry Me A River, Barry

by el Greco



The sports press has been mean to Barry Bonds. So mean, in fact, that he is going to take his bat and his balls (no pun intended) and go home. Seriously, no one should have to endure this crap just to earn a measly $18 million.

The straw that apparently broke the camel’s back was a heartless revelation by Barry’s former girlfriend. She said that he said that steroids were yummy. This is mean-spirited of her especially since Barry bought her that nice house in Arizona. Well, he stopped making payments on it, so I can see how that ticked her off. You know now that I think of it, Barry, ex-girlfriends can be a pain in the ass. Most of us learned that in our 20’s. Should have kept up the damn house payments, man.

Maybe his wife had her fill. Let’s face it, no wife likes to read about her husband’s former girlfriend especially when the girlfriend and your marriage overlap in time. Women are picky that way, Barry. I recommend you do what Kobe would do in this situation. Bling bling. And since Kobe has sort of set the standard here, you will have to top his lousy $4 million piece of ice. I would guess a $5 to $6 million tennis bracelet would make Liz Bonds a very happy lady.

But hey, his knees hurt. You know, surgery. Twice. If I had a job where they paid me big money to walk on crutches, guess what I’d do? Hell, I’d wear a full body cast for $18 mil a year. Barry, next press conference, maybe wince when you move your leg around. Let us feel your pain.

Oh, yeah, Barry, don’t forget those pesky Feds. Didn’t you have a little chat with them under oath? You may want to call Martha and see how she handled that.

straight from the slugger's mouth: You Finally Got Me, Bonds Says

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

That's Amore: Critical Cloud Guzzles Fine Italian Wines

by special correspondent, Crazy Marty



Totally oblivious to the negative impact on the event, Critical Cloud dispatched its resident inebriate, Crazy Marty, to the Italian Wine Tasting last Wednesday at Ft. Mason in San Francisco. Sponsored by Slow Food and Gambero Rosso (the Italian wine guide), the tasting included makers of some of Italy's top wines, about 105 of them, happily pouring their product to the trade (wine shop owners) the press, and members of the Slow Food movement.

Italian wines are glorious in their drinkability, almost solely made to go with food and less often to impress people who are trying to rate them in isolation, which is another of the world's meaningless exercises. Without the wine-writer's software El Greco promised would be here to help, (you know, the kind where all a writer has to do is put in "red wine" and out comes a bunch of descriptive adjectives such as "hints of cinnamon" or "toasty with notes of tobacco and leather" or "long finish with chocolate covered raisin overtones") here are some impressions of the wines we tasted:

Barolo is considered the king of Italian wines from the Nebbiolo grape, but heretofore, I hadn't been impressed. Perhaps it had something to do with an impecunious streak and reluctance to spend a lot of money on grape juice. As this tasting was essentially free, and the wines of the highest quality, the results were different. One prime example was the 1999 Elvio Cogno winery's Barolo Vigna Elena. I noted that it was elegant, as a great Bordeaux might be, but I really think it was more like a cross between a Burgundy and a Bordeaux, and not extremely powerful, despite it's relative youth.

Another wine that captured my interest at this tasting, after having failed to do so in the past, was an Amarone, which uses concentrated must, as I so imperfectly understand it. The Zenato Valpolicella from 2000 evoked sensations of many foods. Raisins (because of its concentration) is often mentioned, and I hate being so trite, but that is certainly one aspect.

If you're a fan of Zinfandels, or really big Cabernets, try a Montepulciano d'Abruzzo from Masciarelli. They offered a 2000 Villa Gemma and a 2001 Cvetic San Martino Rosso. Both were inky, and rich, but so balanced that one didn't get a sense of a lot of alcohol. The same can be said of the Dino Illuminati Montepulciano, also of Abruzzi, and also well liked by me, although for Italian wines, the test is always in how well they pair with food you're eating. Of course, that should be the test for all wines...and not how well they do in tasting rooms.

It should be noted, if you plan on going to Italy, that it is still very easy to find a bottle of good wine in an Italian restaurant that costs less, often far less, than 20 Euro, and I am not talking about low end restaurants, either. For Italians, wine is food, an integral part of the meal, and not just an item on which to build a large tab. Indeed, house, or carafe wines in most restaurants are chosen with care, and a source of pride, and thus, usually quite good and especially fine accompaniments to the meals that particular restaurant serves. Go see for yourself.

Somewhat more exciting is the apparent eagerness to innovate among Italian winemakers, which I think you're less likely to see among the French, who just don't seem to understand that the world is leaving them to their own sediment. One maker, Le Pupille (and I forgot to take notes from exactly which region, although I seem to recall they were from the North) had a very stylish blend of 50% Cabernet Sauvignon, 35% Merlot and 15% Alicante.

We don't see much Alicante used here in California anymore, but I well remember that when I first started paying attention to wine, around 1971, there existed a very drinkable, reasonably priced Alicante Bouschet that might have come from the Central Valley. (Supposedly a very different grape than the one used in Alicante made wines from Spain.) Similarly, there are winemakers in Sicily planting Cabernet Sauvignon, and with their intense sun, they could come up with some rather big, deep versions of that grape. Wines of 100% Merlot were on hand, too. My favorite grape at the show, though, was the ultra-melifluous Susumanello. Never heard of it, and it ain't in Frank Schoonmaker's classic wine Encyclopedia, but it seems to me that if you're with a beautiful Italian woman, and whisper "Susumanello" in her ear, you're as good as home.

I also heard one winemaker telling another taster about the procession of putting their juice first into one kind of oak, then into stainless steel and then into another kind of oak for final aging before bottling. Needless to say, these experiments take time and money, and when I looked down at the sheet listing the retail price of what I was tasting, I saw $90. I almost spit my wine. Since that was the only vendor with a visible price list, I can't give you other prices, but I suspect these producers didn't come all the way from Italy to promote $10 a bottle plonk. With the dollar so low versus the Euro, I don't know how much exporting to the U.S. the Italians can expect. Let me add that when the shock of the $90 abated, a vendor standing close by tried to succor me by explaining that the only difference between a $30 bottle and a $90 bottle was vanity, or perhaps he used the word 'ego.' In general, he's probably correct, but I suspect there are a few high priced wines that are not matchable, and in some intangible way, worth every cent; the trick is, if you have the money, to know which ones they are, and then have a great meal with them and your best friend, or your best friend's wife.

more on Italian wines:

Gambero Rosso
The Italian Wine Guide
Italian Wine Review
Italian Wine Society

A New York Classic



Critical Cloud notes with sadness the passing of jazz great Bobby Short, cabaret singer who commanded New York's famed Cafe Carlyle for many years. Bobby epitomized the Critical Cloud ideal--classic jazz and cabaret standards, played in one of the City's smartest rooms, a smoke and a martini in every hand. "My audience expects a certain amount of sophistication when they are coming to hear me," Bobby once said. Amen, brother, amen.

More on Bobby Short:

Bobby Short Dies at 80
An Appreciation of Bobby
June 2004 interview with Bobby

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Erin Go Bragh: A Sane St Patrick's Day

If you're like most Critical Cloud readers, you spent your tender formative years drinking copious amounts of green beer and puking your guts out on St. Patrick's Day. And that was only by 4 PM. Irish? Who said anything about having to be Irish? Yes, St. Patrick's Day has to be the greatest American holiday for disgusting drunken debauchery. And we at Critical Cloud heartily endorse the active participation thereof.

However, a recent poll of our readers indicated that many of us are no longer able to show up at work the next day after a night of chasing red-headed lasses and suffocation by beer. No, the sad state of affairs is that too many of us have become--oh the shame of it!--lightweights. To those of you who have succumbed to this wretched form of existence, let us remind you: sure, you're getting older, but that doesn't mean you can't be immature.

Saints preserve us, lads and lasses, there still be hope for the likes of you. Enjoy St. Patrick's Day the Critical Cloud way in the privacy of your own home.

The ONLY thing to eat on St. Patrick's Day is, of course, corned beef and cabbage. If Irish culture had left us nothing but corned beef, it would have earned its place in posterity on the strength of that delectable meat alone. Here are more recipes than we had time to try:



Corned Beef Recipes


And what would the Snake Chaser himself say if his day was not honored with beer? On our own dear mother's grave, such a thing shall ne'er be! We recommend that elixir of malted barley, that compound of yeasted mash, that concoction of heavenly delight, the Black & Tan, best enjoyed with your favorite cigar. Ah, lads, it's tasty and, sure, it gives you the strength of a stallion with the lasses, if you be knowing what we say.



Black & Tan FAQ's


No St. Patrick's Day would be complete without a viewing of that John Ford classic, The Quiet Man. Starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara and with some of the most beautiful Irish countryside this side of heaven, it's a film to be enjoyed many times over. The story of an Irish-American boxer who accidentally kills an opponent and moves back to Ireland to escape his guilt, where he meets and marries the most beautiful lass in his ancestral village. Ah, but trouble brews, when his bride's brother refuses to hand over her dowry, and the "Yank" is reluctant to fight for his bride's honor. The final fight scene is a cinematic classic that will leave you grinning.



The Quiet Man trailer (sorry about the ads)


With that, me boyo, Critical Cloud bids you a safe and sane St. Patrick's Day

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Upcoming at Critical Cloud

A Sane St Patrick's Day
Food, Beverage and the Only St Patrick's Day Movie to see! click here

Two great wine reviews!
Italian Wines by special correspondent Crazy Marty click here
California Zinfandels by el Greco click here

The Best Damn Bartender in SF. Period.
But she won't be around much longer! Critical Cloud gives you the scoop just in time.

Plus SF restaurant reviews!

All this and more at the only website promoting the civilized enjoyment of tobacco and other elegant vices in San Francisco

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Motherless Fuckmonkey

by special correspondent Crazy Marty



Those deathless words were uttered by Marcus Flores, who may well have coined the phrase (I'd never heard it before and have never heard it since), thereby raising defamation of character to new heights. Marcus, you should know, is now the proprietor of Amber, a smoke-friendly bar in San Francisco. When first heard uttering the above epithet, however, he was a clerk at Sherlock's Haven and trying to give an in-depth analysis of Rob Reiner, who is rumored to be considering a run for Governor of California.

Not having been in Sherlock's for the original personality profile, the question may remain in your mind, "Why is Rob Reiner a Motherless Fuckmonkey?"

This, my friend, is why you read Critical Cloud. If you are a cigar or pipe smoker, or even just a cigarette smoker, and live in California, you should be aware that a big part of your tobacco cost is directly attributable to Reiner's Proposition 10, which purports to raise money for early childhood education. To raise that money, Reiner saw a vulnerable industry, tobacco, and decided a tax on cigarettes would pass public scrutiny (and a vote) and provide his personal programs with unmonitored billions to start commissions in each of California's 57 counties.

He was right. The vote on Proposition 10 passed with a margin of about 1% (and only in about 4, maybe 5, counties). What people didn't know, and weren't informed about, was that the publicized tax on cigarettes would also, due to a complex confluence of earlier legislation, heavily increase the tax on pipe tobacco and cigars, driving business in those products out of the state via the internet. Thus, many, many cigar users avoided paying the heavy excise tax and all state sales taxes. God only knows how many millions of dollars the state lost with this stroke of genius. On the bright side, Reiner helped make multi-millionaires of East Coast internet cigar sellers.

Other major problems exist under Proposition 10. The wording of the proposition is patently illegal, since it brings to bear two issues, children's programs and a tax hike, in one proposition. No proposition is legally allowed to present more than one issue at a time, so as to prevent confusion, obfuscation, etc. More than one passed proposition has been overturned on that basis. But, really, what politician or judge is going to squash legislation that taxes the demon tobacco while also doing it for the kids...the little bastards?

Since the tax money that is stipulated for these 'First 5' commissions is set up entirely independently in each county, with absolutely no state oversight, the potential for huge corruption looms, and indeed, that is what is happening. But, that is a subject for true investigative reporting, which is ongoing as we write (if you call this writing). Our job, like Stephen Hawking's, is to see the big picture, not mire ourselves in details.

What is the big picture? Simple, that Rob Reiner is a Motherless Fuckmonkey, and now, finally, here's why. If, as he said, he wants to help children, why not tax his own industry, movies? With the constant onslaught of sex and violence (and personally, I'm ok with the sex part) it has very negatively influenced our youth (and thus, us). More and more research is showing this to be true. What the movies portray is adversely affecting our society. But no, Reiner has put his hands in somebody else's pocket to underwrite his own pet project. This is axiomatically wrong. One simply does not fund one's interests only on the backs of others. If he is not willing to put his hands into his own besmirched pockets, he has proven himself, with no other possible or acceptable explanation, to be so low, so contemptible as to be nothing better than a Motherless Fuckmonkey. He wants to be a big shot. He wants to be a political heavy and he wants, nay, needs, to be loved, no matter the cost to others. We really can't allow him to become Governor. The state isn't big enough to hold his ego or his reckless, destructive do-gooding.

When then-candidate Arnold Schwarzenegger was buying cigars in Sherlock's Haven, he was requested by your correspondent to bring the message home to his acting colleague, that if he, Reiner, “were on fire in the middle of the street, we California tobacconists would not piss on that Motherless Fuckmonkey to put it out." To his everlasting credit, the magnanimous, munificent Governor-to-be replied without missing a beat, "yes you would." He then smiled and took a long, satisfying puff of an Arturo Fuente Between the Lines.

Monday, March 14, 2005

The Chick's Guide to NCAA Basketball Pools



OK, so that really nerdy guy in your office has distributed something called “brackets” to everyone from the president of the company down to the kid in the mailroom. For the next three hours, it seems the entire office is chattering about “seeds”, “regionals”, and “the awesome ACC”. What is going on here? Your otherwise sane, professional colleagues have been consumed by something they keep referring to as “the Big Dance.”

Thankfully, Critical Cloud is here to your rescue. And the good news is that all those hieroglyphic charts aren’t that difficult. The even better news is you can win money at this. Yes, money, the stuff they invented right after credit cards so women can shop. So where do you begin?

You’ll have to get into the pool to start with and that will take some cash. Lots of offices run a pool that costs a buck to get into. Doesn’t really matter, because the beauty of the pool is that a lot of people put money in, so at the end the winner gets a lot. The real basketball fanatics who have no lives, such as husbands, may get into more expensive pools where it cost $20 or more to get in. Rule one, chicks, only get in the $1 pools.

Rule number two, don’t ask a male colleague for help in filling out your bracket. They will only look at you with puzzled faces and disbelief that you don’t completely understand the arcane world of the post-season tournament. And don’t even dare ask your husband or boyfriend to help you. That is tantamount to starting World War III.

So how do you pick the winning teams? It’s easy. Critical Cloud has seen this work so many times that we practically guarantee it.

Forget the seedings, those numbers next to the teams that are supposed to be some sort of indication of a teams’ prowess on the court. Seriously, when did looking at numbers ever get you what you wanted? No, ladies it is your heart that will make you a winner.

Find out the teams’ names, that is their mascots. You can look this stuff up on the internet, but that is a lot of trouble, so you can ask a few discrete questions to male coworkers. North Carolina is the Tar Heels. Kansas is the Jayhawks. Duke is the Blue Devils. Don’t try to find out where these names came from or what they mean—just pick names that you like or sound cute to you. Is there some animal that you like? Go with the team named after an animal you love—unfortunately Texas Christian isn’t in the tournament this year. Their mascot is the Horned Frogs. From what we hear, a lot of you women have kissed those.

Team colors are good too. We doubt you wear much orange, so you probably aren’t going to like the Syracuse Orangemen, whose colors include—surprise, surprise—orange. Another great tactic is to look at the teams’ coaches on TV. Does the coach dress well? Nice haircut? Or does he need to lose weight? Go with your heart here, ladies. Check out this Bob Knight character. He coaches for Texas Tech. Never wears a suit or tie. Needs to lose serious weight. Once threw a chair at one of his players. You wouldn’t like him—don’t pick his team.

Of course, there are the players themselves. Turn on ESPN (it’s an all sports network) and watch some basketball highlights. Some of those players are real cute guys. Pick their teams. Every now and then some college player will propose to his girlfriend on TV right before a big game. Romantic as hell, huh? Go with his team. If he makes it to the pro’s, his girlfriend (by then his wife) will be able to shop anywhere she wants.

That’s about all there is to it. Don’t worry about keeping track of your score as the tournament progresses. The geeky guy who started the pool will be reviewing and scoring everyone’s picks. This is the only time of year that people pay attention to him.

Three weeks from now (when the whole tournament is over), you will be rolling in cold, hard cash because YOU WON and the guys in the office will be swearing under their breath. One last thing--don’t spend your money all in one place.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

Our Favorite Time of Year: March Madness



Collegiate basketball fans salivate when March arrives because the NCAA basketball tournament begins. From the early rounds until the Final Four in St. Louis, anything can happen and usually does. Here's the brackets:

viewable: http://www.ncaasports.com/basketball/mens/brackets/viewable/2005/DI
printable: http://www.sportsline.com/collegebasketball/mayhem/brackets/printable_men

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Edinburgh Castle Remembers Hunter S Thompson




With Dr. Hunter S. Thompson moving on to bigger and better things, writers, critics, stoners and other hangers-on are organizing tributes around the country and around the world. But we have a feeling that the only one Hunter himself would have attended would be right here in San Francisco at the Edinburgh Castle Pub. Sure, Jahn Wenner will probably throw some blockbuster event full of literary luminaries in New York, but we all know that Rolling Stone lost any counter-cultural relevance it may have had when they moved across the country, and it's in San Francisco where the independent spirit and the embrace of the surreal that was Thompson's legacy still lives on. From the press release:

"San Francisco is the fertile ground that provided the framework for Fear and Loathing. Without Oscar Zeta-Acosta, writing his own books at the Royan Hotel on Valencia and 15th, there is no gonzo journalism. Hunter S. Thompson was an early 60’s transplant to Big Sur, from his time as the Night Manager at the Mitchell Brothers, riding with the Hells Angels, writing at the old South of Market Rolling Stone, terrorizing the offices of Ramparts magazine in North Beach, holed up at the Seal Rock Inn polishing Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, or turning in copy to the old Examiner via fax an hour before the paper went to print, his stamp on the Bay Area is undeniable."

It's being called Vicious Bullshit: A Hallucinatory Wake in Honor of the late Dr. Hunter S. Thompson, and it's being organized by Patrick Hughes of SCB Distributors. There will be readings by writers such as Stephen Elliott, Michelle Tea, Bucky Sinister and SFist's own muse and guardian angel Susie Bright (who penned a really beautiful eulogy on her blog) among many others. Of course we'll be there, and it is our intent to celebrate. Beer and, we're sure, other psychoactives will be consumed in quantity, and we should easily make enough noise for him to hear us cheering wherever he's gone.

The Edinburgh Castle Pub is at 950 Geary. The wake starts at nine and admission is free. Story reprinted from www.sfist.com.


Addendum: Critical Cloud Reports

Hunter would have gotten trashed had he been there last night. As it was, Ianthe Brautigan (daughter of Richard Brautigan) gave her unique perspective on Hunter. Local author Susie Bright told of her memories of Hunter when both were employed by Mitchell Brothers. Hell, even Phil Bronstein was semi-lucid and his "date" was a 30-something knockout. I chatted with Bronstein for a minute or two as we both walked out and when I stuck a cigarette in my mouth (while still inside) he looked at me like he had just spotted the FBI's public enemy number one. I couldn't help but think that Hunter would have lit the cigarette and told any nearby Puritans where to stick it.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Man Ticketed For Selling Girl Scout Cookies With Daughter




NEW YORK (AP) -- A Long Island man was ticketed in Brooklyn for selling Girl Scout cookies with his 13-year-old daughter.

Hoi Louis was in Williamsburg delivering the cookies with his daughter over the weekend. Louis said it was his old neighborhood, before he moved to Bethpage, and he and his daughter have been selling Girl Scout cookies there since his daughter was in first grade.

At 4:50 p.m. Saturday a police captain and a uniformed officer pulled up to their van as they were unloading cookies. Louis said the captain from the 94th Precinct ticketed him for selling cookies without a license.

The NYPD said the man and his daughter were not delivering the cookies, but instead were selling the cookies from a table they had set up on the street.

The child's grandmother, who was in the van, said her granddaughter was frightened by the police and the girl's father was flabbergasted.

Analysis by Critical Cloud

What is going on here? Has Mayor Bloomberg converted the proud NYPD, heroes of 9/11, into neighborhood tattletales? Does the Mayor want us to think the street vendors selling fake Gucci bags on Times Square are somehow "sanctioned" but that a Girl Scout in Brooklyn represents a threat to civic peace and tranquility? Or did our intrepid Girl Scout and her father just forget to drop off a dozen boxes of Thin Mints at the 94th Precint as a token of their "appreciation?" This is the kind of nuttiness we'd expect of our local fruitcakes, the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Testiclegate: Barry Tells All


The cloud hanging over Barry Bonds was lifted, when he informed concerned fans, "I can tell you my testicles are the same size. They haven't shrunk. They're the same and work just the same as they always have."

Later, in an exclusive interview with Liz Bonds, Critical Cloud was able to confirm the facts. Mrs. Bonds commented, "You know we're married, so I haven't really seen them in a long time, but I have no reason not to believe Barry. I would refer any further questions on the topic to his publicist."

full story from ESPN: http://sports.espn.go.com/mlb/news/story?id=2005214

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Sorry, Martha. Housekeeping's not my idea of 'reality'

by Jes Alexander, SF Chronicle




My friend Alison e-mailed me a few weeks before Martha Stewart left prison and forwarded me an application to be a contestant on "The Apprentice: Martha Stewart.''
It has nothing to do with Martha -- I actually like her. Again thank you, but n'uh-uh. No way, sister. Not me. For me, cooking, interior design, gardening and entertaining are things that evolved into my life as pastoral escapes from an ugly world. Television executives want to take that away from me, however, and replace the solace of my interests with anger, aggression and what I am sure they consider "the spirit of competition." They would prefer to have me engage a creative peer in a bathroom strategy session, our voices drowned out by the massaging jets of the shower; or use their night- vision lenses to catch me sleep-icing a wedding cake. It's not about my interests, it's about controversy.

full article in SF Chronicle: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/03/05/HOG9SBJ8VD1.DTL

Friday, March 04, 2005

Paris Puffs




Critical Cloud's intrepid reporters caught Paris Hilton recently on San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom's balcony finishing a smoke. We suspect that she learned to smoke her cigars that closely from the president of SF's own Caramanica Group. Unless she got a hold of some medical cannabis...

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Our Readers Requested It and Critical Cloud Delivers

The world famous Volvo George told Critical Cloud that he wanted to see a celebrity enjoying a smoke. At Critical Cloud, when you guys ask, we deliver it. Is she a celebrity? Who the hell cares?


 Posted by Hello

For those whose imaginary lives need frequent resupplying, you can see even more models erotically puffing at: http://www.smokingmodels.com

This Should Stop Cigar-puffing Terrorists in Their Tracks


 Posted by Hello

Leave the lighters at home when you fly. Well, just don't bring them to the security checkpoint. Oh wait, no you can't check them in either. Matches. Yes, those are fine. We think...

TSA makes it all clear: http://www.tsa.gov/public/display?theme=44&content=0900051980104b15

Smoking Ban in Rhode Island

Sure it's the only state where the road maps are printed full scale, but here's another case of the Tobacco Taliban taking over.

full story: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/news/archive/2005/03/01/national/a004702S91.DTL