Halloween in Oakland

Every now and then we make the trek across the Bay Bridge to that other town, Oakland. So when our favorite hair cutter said she was throwing a Halloween party at a friend's warehouse Saturday night, we figured we had better go.








We liked the naughty nurse and her Dr Kildare













The Sex Kitten had a nice tail




















Pocahontas came ready to party

















No party would be complete without a French maid










Rumor has it that cigar buff, Ravin' Dave, was lassoed by a passing cowgirl who may have entertained him with her "rope tricks" later that night. No photos of that were available, but we hear the paparazzi are staking out Dave's place.

In A Stunning Development, Crazy Marty May Be Tapped To Salvage An Administration in Shambles

As the Bush administration’s difficulties continue to spin out of control this past week, politicos and pundits alike are wondering just how far things can unravel. A nice little war gone bad, a very sweet lady’s Supreme Court nomination totally trashed (and she would have looked great in black, too), and now “Scooter” Libby resigns after a grand jury indictment. Say it ain’t so, Scott McClellan, say it ain’t so.

In a highly rumored rumor (got that?), Critical Cloud has learned from unnamed sources within the Kinky Friedman campaign that Critical Cloud’s own Crazy Marty may be requested by the White House to step in and perform a “Howard Baker” housecleaning. As a periodic contributor to Critical Cloud, Crazy Marty's writings have graced the pages of this publication from time to time as well as provided English teachers everywhere with examples to show students what not to do.

Editor’s note: Readers will recall that then-President Reagan brought Howard Baker to do a massive cleanup after the Iran Contra mess.

Surprising as the connection between the Bush White House and the Kinky Friedman campaign seems, Critical Cloud was able to confirm that the two groups had indeed been in communication. White House under gardener, Jose Mucho-Cojones, affirmed this, saying “I know they’s been talking, cause I heard Mizzus Bush and Meester Cheney talkin’ and she’s saying ‘oh, Dick, thas so kinky’”. What else could explain it?

When contacted, Crazy Marty refused to comment other than to say that he might consider the job if it meant he could get decent restaurant reservations in Washington and not have to depend on his meager Critical Cloud salary to get by.

Halloween's Hottest Ticket

It's Halloween. This is San Francisco. Seriously, what could be the weekend's hottest ticket besides Halloween in the Castro?

After some problems in past years (in 2002 someone had a working chain saw as part of their costume), the organizers of Halloween in the Castro got serious about keeping this massive street party (something like 300,00 show up every year) under control.

Wear your wildest costume--trust us, nothing could be too over-the-top--cause there will be a contest. No booze permitted outdoors, no weapons (although dominatrixes carrying whips are probably OK), and no bashing. The festivities start at 7PM Monday and last (at least officially) until midnight.

Relatives in from Des Moines for the weekend? Show them a San Francisco treat they won't soon forget.

read the SF Chronicle article Halloween in the Castro

Cortez: Tapas Before the Theatre

With the proliferation of "small plates" eateries in town, we're always a bit leary about trying yet another. I always wonder if "small plates" or "tapas" is just another way of saying "real small portions for a lot of money."

With that admittedly skeptical attitude, a friend and I gave Cortez (Geary, between Taylor and Jones) a whirl for a pre-theatre dinner. Located in the charming Hotel Adagio building, one enters Cortez from the alley (not as romantic as it could be since there’s only a parking lot in the alley).

Once entering Cortez, you’re caught off guard. What could have been just another heavily-draped, stodgy downtown dining room is a warm combination of old school and SoMa funk. Sporting some of the liveliest light fixtures since the Cypress Club closed, the room is adorned with cool art. The drapes are still there and linen table clothes, but somehow it all works together.

The wine list is good, but brief as you’d expect in a tapas restaurant. The emphasis is clearly on Cortez’ cocktail list which is lengthy and inventive. We settled on mojitos and a martini-based drink called a Journalist. The mojito was minty and limey with barely a taste of sweetness, while the Journalist had a couple of kinds of vermouth and probably some cassis thrown in. I didn’t see any journalists drinking one and it was then I remembered my core drinking philosophy: no foo foo drinks.

The food was very good, but as I said, this is tapas. Small portions. That is probably a good idea when eating before the theatre. I still remember this one time I downed three chili dogs with extra onions and cheese right before attending a production of La Traviata. I attended with this Wellesley-girl-debutante, who was apparently unable to appreciate my ability to musically time the chili-induced flatulence. I thought it was highly creative, but she never returned my phone calls after that.

Anyway, the food is good. The frisson salad had a wonderfully tasty dressing that we couldn’t identify but loved. A plate of corn ravioli was the best item we tasted. Garnished with fresh vegetables including some delicious peas, it was the hit of the dinner. We finished up with braised pork ribs which were good, although not out of this world.

Would I go back? As a regular place to dine, probably not, but as a part of a theatre evening, absolutely. Here’s the Critical Cloud ratings.

Ambience: 9
Food/beverage: 8
Service: 8
Price: $100 (two people, three plates shared, two mixed drinks apiece, with tip)

The Lap of Luxury

Critical Cloud note: This excellent and rather amusing editorial appeared in today's New York Times and is reprinted in its entirety as a public service to Critical Cloud readers who may have found themselves in a similar predicament.

By ELISABETH EAVES

Paris--IT'S happened again. Another innocent man who just wanted a few lap dances claims to have been victimized by an exclusive New York strip club, Scores.

This time it's an executive from Missouri named Robert McCormick, who, treating himself and friends, ran up a $241,000 bill at Scores on his corporate American Express card two years ago. American Express is now suing him for refusing to pay up. Several other unhappy customers have also sued Scores over large bills.

These don't seem to be cases of bill padding. American Express sought signed receipts from the club before bringing its suit against Mr. McCormick. In the most recent suit against Scores, meanwhile, the plaintiff's justification is simply that he was drunk when he signed his bills.

Nevertheless, the Manhattan district attorney's office is investigating allegations of overcharging at Scores. To which I say, as someone who has worked in strip clubs, you've got to be kidding - there's no such thing as "overcharging" in this industry.

Does Christian Dior "overcharge" when it sells a handbag for $13,000? That depends on how you look at it. If you see the handbag as a few pieces of stitched leather, the price is grossly inflated. If you see it as a source of heady self-worth - a passport to an exclusive club - then it's hard to say what price would be too high.

This is the economic logic relied on by purveyors of luxury goods. It's not about the utility of the product. It's about making the customer feel as if he has arrived.

Strip clubs, particularly high-end ones like Scores, provide a luxury service. That $3,000 price tag on a bottle of Champagne isn't just for the beverage; it's part of the price of the experience. Mr. McCormick probably didn't go to Scores strictly to see topless women, or even for the physical contact and potential sexual gratification of a lap dance. Both experiences can be had in simpler, cheaper ways.

Rather, he and his colleagues probably went because being surrounded by fawning, semi-naked, Champagne-flute-wielding women was for them a symbol of success. It's like hiring a chauffeured limousine: a taxi would get you there, but without the aesthetic experience.

When I worked in a Seattle peep show, I had a customer who told me his name was Excalibur and quietly slipped me his poetry. Part of my job, in that moment, was to make him feel like a Knight of the Round Table. This required only a show of curiosity and respect. He must have found those things hard to come by in the real world, though, because he paid me well to help spin the illusion.

With many customers, fawning is key. What a stripper sells is not her ability to dance or take off her clothes, but her ability to suspend the customer's disbelief.

If she is doing her job right, his bald spot and his mortgage cease to exist, and he enters an adolescent fantasy of sexual prowess, temporarily transformed into James Bond, Han Solo and Hugh Hefner all rolled into one. The dancers keep cooing and flattering until the money runs out. It's not duplicitous; it's what the patron signs up for.

I have little sympathy for these carping customers. Their complaints are the height of boorishness. It's acceptable to indulge your James Bond fantasies, but it's not acceptable, when the bill comes due, to remain convinced that you're James Bond. The dancers weren't in it for kicks.

Among strippers I worked with, the most dreaded customers were not the obese or the lame. Rather, we feared customers who thought they were exceptions to the rule. They were just handsome enough, or successful enough, to foolishly think that their own sex appeal was tip enough.

It's just this kind of guy who would backpedal on a strip club bill and go crying to the courts that he was hustled. Well, sure, the dancers hustled Mr. McCormick, but no more so than the occasional Mercedes dealer. Buyer's remorse is not an occasion to stiff the seller.

So, gentlemen, pay the bill. A reasonably priced lap dance is not a right.

Elisabeth Eaves is the author of "Bare: The Naked Truth About Stripping."
Copyright 2006 New York Times

We Won't Forget You, Shirley

When a jazz master like Shirly Horn passes on, do you think there's an audience applauding in a smoke-filled club in heaven where she just took the stage? If there isn't, there ought to be.

Joe Brown (editor of the Chronicle's Pink section) said it well:

Nothing looks more forlorn than a nightclub during the day. But when jazz singer/pianist Shirley Horn enters the swank Anton's 1201 Club for a 3 p.m. sound check, she brings a bit of dusky, intimate glamour in with her. In dark glasses and casual clothes, Horn lingers over her usual setup: Drambuie in a snifter, a Heineken over ice and a Pall Mall curling blue smoke toward the ceiling. She makes the after-lunch hour feel like after midnight.

We won't forget you, Shirley.


Shirley Horn at the SF Jazz Festival, 1999


Joe Brown remembers Shirley Horn in SF Gate Culture Blog

A Disturbance in the Blogosphere

Marshall McLuhan said the medium was the message and the cancerous growth of the blogosphere sure seems to confirm it. If you're over 40 and stumbled back at "blogosphere", go check it out in Wikipedia. If you're a younger moron and Marshall McLuhan ain't registering, go to his spot also in Wikipedia.

In any case (and the point of all this didactic babbling), Critical Cloud notes with concern the apparent dissolution of one of our favorite blogs, Cleveland Park Men's Club. Whither they have gone or to what end, we have no clue, but for months and months they provided a lively insight into the single man's lifestyle in D.C.

Was it a disagreement over who owed whom after a poker game? Was excessive alcohol consumption part of it? Or (and we shudder as we contemplate this) was there some sort of female intrigue at the bottom of their demise?

A disturbance, indeed, in the blogosphere.

Art Imitates Drinking

The wine-swilling inebriates of Critical Cloud were more than ready to party last Wednesday evening as hundreds gathered at the dazzling new de Young Museum. A huge photograph in the Wilsey Court (if you write a big check, they name it after you) completely fooled us. Even though we'd only finished one glass of wine, it looked horribly out of focus. Turns out the photo is deliberately out of focus, but thinking they were already tipsy, our female companions started having fun and getting real silly. We were reminded that Art is Good.


Fuzzy photograph towers over tipsy partiers.

As previously reported, this building is destined to become a San Francisco classic--no matter what all the whiners and crybabies say about how it looks so "modern". The organization of the building (it has three times the square footage but occupies a smaller footprint than the old museum), the landmark tower, and the ephemeral, changing copper skin, all combine to make this building a fantastic home for the City's art.


The West Texas Lass and Anne couldn't get enough wine and art.
We made sure they got plenty of both.

We continued drinking and looking at art. Wandered through the museum and we noticed someone had spilled red wine down a wall! Now that's what you call having a good time--getting sloppy at a museum party. We can't wait for our next time.

Cardinal Baseball's Sad Lexicon

THESE are the saddest of possible words.
Cards downed by Astros in six,
Fastball by Oswalt, fleeter than birds,
Cards downed by Astros in six.
Ruthlessly pricking our World Series bubble,
Leaving a Pujols homer in rubble-
Words that are weighty with nothing but trouble:
Cards downed by Astros in six.

Lights out at Busch Stadium and a tip of the ballcap to Franklin P. Adams.

But There is No Joy in Space City...

...for Pujols, mighty Pujols conducted his own space shot from Houston, placing a white spheroid into a Minute Maid orbit and driving in three runs to keep the Redbirds alive, In that crowd of 43,000 ready-to-party Astro fans, you could have heard a Houston debutante fart after that ninth inning, two out launch.


Albert Pujols blasts a two out, ninth inning, three run homer.
If that ain't MVP performance, then what is?

It's De-Lightful, It's De-Lovely, It's de Young

The de Young's tower creates a striking contrast between manmade and natural.

World class. Tour-de-force. Stunning. We approached the new de Young Museum on a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Golden Gate Park, thinking "what a great facility in a great city."

As I was to find out, not all San Franciscans share that sentiment. For a variety of reasons (including ignorance), there is a strong bias against what lots of folks around here refer to as "modern" architecture. For a variety of reasons (not all that complex), those folks are dead wrong when it comes to the new de Young.


The perforated copper skin creates a gossamer, shimmering effect.

Without getting into the specifics just now, the arguments goes something like this. Most other buildings in San Francisco are older-looking and older styled, so any new building has to look like something out of the past. Or else it doesn't belong here.

This makes as much sense as saying because people used to wear Victorian era clothes in San Francisco, that's the only kind of clothes we should have here now. See how lame that sounds?

To be fair, a lot of San Franciscans recognize what an excellent building this is and are being vocal about it. We noticed that the West Texas Lass seemed pretty happy with it. Critical Cloud will continue our critique of the new after Wednesday night's party at the de Young hosted by Elder Arts (there are a few perks to being an online hack!).

learn more at the de Young Museum website

read the SF Chronicle articles about the new de Young

The Weekend's Hottest Ticket

No question about it, Critical Cloud's Hottest Ticket this weekend is the opening of the new de Young Museum. And, best of all, it's free!

Four years in construction, the world class de Young opens this Saturday at noon and will remain continuously open for the next 31 hours. There's something going on nearly every minute, although our favorite just might be the Mayan sunrise ceremony at 6 AM on Sunday. It was the Mayans, as you surely recall, whose religion had not one, but two tobacco gods (gotta love that).

Critical Cloud will be on hand to bring you the latest from the museum (wow, play by play blogging from an art museum, aren't you impressed?) and to report on San Francisco's reaction to this copper clad tour-de-force.

What's Great About the New de Young? SF Examiner

Buying Stuff for the Big One

You read yesterday's article about the need to be really prepared when the Big One hits the Bay Area. You know that bottled water and canned peaches and extra D size batteries are important. But now you see the need, nay, the wisdom, of living not just surviving.

Just as promised at Critical Cloud (and that alone is a rare occurrance), we're going to give you the lowdown on where to find the stuff you really gotta have. Since you're already on the internet, you're pretty close to where this former dot com billionaire-on-paper has gathered just about every kind of supply, accessory, or piece of junk necessary for the pursuit of our favorite activity, vice. On The Fly is the brainchild of a once wildly successful software sales guy, Ami Arad, who was unceremoniously cast upon the dust heap of Silicon Valley history only to resurface hawking goodies for what he calls "the modern gentleman." Modest though he is, Critical Cloud was able to score the following interview with Ami.

Critical Cloud: Ami, you were part of the dot com insanity for quite a while with Blue Martini and then the crash came. Did you freak and panhandle for change on street corners like the other dot com millionaires or was On The Fly always in the game plan?

Ami: I didn’t start panhandling until after we launched On The Fly; it drained everything I had accumulated during the bubble. Fortunately, San Francisco is kind to panhandlers and I actually live better now than when I had a real job. Creating a “one-stop shop” for the modern gentleman was an idea that came to me back in ’98 or ’99 after spending $30 for two hours of parking in 3 different lots grabbing some cigars, wine, and clothing from 3 different stores. As the bubble was bursting, I was already ratcheting down my lifestyle for the joy that is entrepreneurship. I am lucky in the sense that I honestly believe this is what I was born to do.

CC: Your business card says your title is “Modern Gentleman”. What the hell is that? Aren’t most guys these days just 21st century versions of the Three Stooges or Pee Wee Herman?

Ami: Let’s face it: the classic gentleman is dead. Gone are horses and carriages and fiefdoms. But it’s not all bad. Times have changed, and man has had to adapt, to evolve. There are significant social changes affecting men, relationships between men and women, and traditional perceptions of masculinity. Some guys aren’t handling it so well; the modern gentleman has figured it out. It’s really just an excuse for men to overachieve against really low expectations.

Why is “Modern Gentleman” on my card? Because I felt “Douche Bag” would convey the wrong message.

CC: What’s the concept behind On The Fly? Did you wake up hung over one Saturday, next to your best friend’s wife, and think “shit, I better come up with something real fast”?

Ami: Most men don’t like to “shop”. But many men I know love to “acquire”. It differs from guy to guy. I know men that spend tens of thousands of dollars a year on wine, and spend $500 on clothing. I know men that will spend a hundred thousand on a car, and wear a $150 watch. One thing these men have in common is that they do appreciate quality and authenticity; they just may not have time to seek out the best store for everything. So I wanted to bring an “edited assortment” of products in a variety of departments to the modern man so he can buy what he likes, and research what he should be buying next.

The other aspect that is important to me is high-touch service. Can you imagine if every store you went into was like Sherlock’s Haven? Where the employees knew you so well, and you were sure to run into a regular or two or five every day? And why not? Someday, when we have a physical store, we will aspire to create an atmosphere that feels more like a men’s club than a men’s store, and where customers are free to loiter and enjoy a cigar or a glass of bourbon while they peruse the newest fashions and gadgets.

If you see my best friend, please tell him I’m sorry.

CC: Our hero at Critical Cloud is Winston Churchill, who drank and smoked every waking moment while he led Britain through World War II. Who is your inspiration?

Ami: Churchill is definitely in the top 5, maybe top 3. Twain is up there too, and as you know, he shared many vices with Churchill. Most importantly, they both had an incredible wit. Ten minutes on our site and you’ll see that we try not to take ourselves too seriously. Sinatra’s sense of style and camaraderie with the Rat Pack are admirable. Hugh Hefner has a lot for us to be jealous of, but I wish he wasn’t wearing pyjamas all day every day. I’m not sure there is a contemporary equivalent to any of those men, which is a shame, although many of your readers and our customers do their best to live out their passions.

CC: My ex-brother-in-law smuggles a couple of cartons of Marlboros into California to me every month and he also makes kickass homemade wine, so I’m living in style as you can see. Why should I buy my stuff at On The Fly?

Ami: It sounds like you already have everything you need; I’m not sure I can think of a reason for you to change. If, however, you need a new corkscrew for the wine, look us up. If you need new stemware or a wine fridge, we’ve got you covered. If you lose your lighter, we can replace it with something nice. And if you burn your house down during an alcohol-induced cigarette-flicking contest, we can replace many of the furnishings in your home - from a flat-panel TV to a pool table to an overstuffed leather club chair.

Soon, we will be launching a rewards program – a Frequent FLYer program if you get my gist – that will really make it worthwhile for men to consolidate as much of their purchasing as possible with us. And since we offer free shipping on so many products, you’re not paying anymore than you would in a store…and in many cases, we have a bigger selection! For those eager to see our loyalty program, rest assured, points will be applied to purchases made prior to its launch so feel free to support us now.

CC: OK, I’ve made the move to On The Fly and am now buying hip, cool guy stuff. When will I start getting laid by vixens with trust funds?

Ami: There’s the rub. The women with trust funds are out looking for a young buck half your age with the IQ of a rock. Our customers – men who appreciate the finer things in life – are being chased by gold-digging social climbers, or they’re happily married to attractive, intelligent women that appreciate their confident masculinity. Should you get lucky with any wealthy vixens while styling around in our stuff, please send pics.


So go check out On The Fly and get that emergency kit together. And Critical Cloud readers can get a special deal--once you're on the site use promotion code CLOUD9 (clever, huh?) and get an extra 10% off your purchases.

Be ready for the Big One. Don't just survive, live.

Really Living through the Big One

With everyone in the Bay Area thinking about earthquakes and natural disasters, we’ve all been a bit on edge about how we’re going to make it through that first 72 hours before FEMA, the National Guard, and the pizza delivery guy can get to us. Here in Baghdad by the Bay, our Office of Emergency Services has thoughtfully put together some survival kit suggestions and for that, we’re eternally grateful.

No question that bottled water, canned food, aspirin, and a roll of toilet paper would come in damn handy if the Richter scale trips 8.0. But is survival all there is? As we heard it, after the Big One in 1906, the saloonkeepers, gun runners, and whorehouses just kicked it up a notch and decided they weren’t merely going to survive, they were going to fucking live.

It is with that sentiment in mind, Critical Cloud undertook in depth research into what constitutes an earthquake kit that lets you live, not just survive. You readers can guess what form this research took—seeing as how most of the City’s cutting edge thinking happens in about half a dozen serious bars—as your Critical Cloud editorial staff diligently applied themselves to the task.

The official survival kit is aimed at just that—surviving. Surviving pretty much means you can drink water, eat some food, sleep without freezing, and wipe your ass. Those are good as far as they go. But the act of living, hell, the art of living requires something no mere survival kit would ever include. The art of living is so far removed from the survivalist’s mentality that it would never even occur to your average civic preparedness committee.

In a word, the art of living in the aftermath of an emergency will require vice. And, so we offer you the Critical Cloud Earthquake Art of Living and Vice Preparedness Kit. Here’s what we came up with.

Booze. This may actually be more important than water. Once, when offered a glass of water, W.C. Fields looked askance at the proffered H2O and said, “Do you know what fish do in that?” Critical Cloud recommends a decent single malt scotch or at least a couple of bottles of wine.

Tobacco. If you don’t smoke, trust us, after the Big One strikes you’ll want to. Even if you are saint and wouldn’t dare touch the demon leaf, tobacco in any form will serve as currency. Even in these non-emergency times, you’d be surprised what you can trade a couple of cigarettes for. Don’t forget a lighter or at least a box of matches.

Coffee. Be honest. How are you going to live without it? And you can actually live for several weeks on caffeine and tobacco, as our research has shown. OK, we didn’t actually live on just coffee and cigars for that whole time. We had booze, too.

Deck of Cards or Dice. Either will do. While you’re sitting around drinking and smoking waiting for help to arrive, you’re going to need something to do. Something that will exercise your mind. What better than a game of poker or craps?

A weapon. We can hear the entire PC crowd expressing shock over this one. But the fact is, here in beautiful, peace-loving San Francisco, the cops are not going to be around for quite awhile (you hardly see a cop on the streets as it is now). But we’re guessing the thugs and gangstas will be roaming the streets looking for food and iPods to rip off.

Now, you're thinking, alright this is a pretty good kit, but where will I find all this stuff easily? Dedicated researchers that we are, we've come up with the perfect place to purchase the accoutrements necessary for every vice. And it will include a special offer for our readers. Check back tomorrow for complete details and soon you'll have an emergency kit you can be proud of.

The Cruelest Game

Remember those stirring opening lines from ABC's Wide World of Sport? The thrill of victory...and the agony of defeat. And agony it was for John Daly at Sunday's final round of the Amex Championship at Harding Park, San Francisco. Leading all day, Daly let Tiger catch up with him by bogeying on the 17th. Par on 18 for both of them set up a sudden death playoff, which sure makes for some exciting spectating, but when $1.3 million is riding on the trajectory of a little white ball...well, just look at what that does to a golfer.


Daly misses a chance to win, setting himself up for a blown putt.

As it turned out, the critical moment was at hole 16 in the playoff. Tiger parred the hole, 2 putting once he was on the green. Daly had the chance to take home the trophy with a long putt, but came mighty close. Then, with the ball a mere 3 feet away, Daly missed the putt, giving the tournament to Tiger in as agonizing a finish as you'll see. Even winning, Tiger almost cried, knowing this was not a proud win for him.

Huge Fiasco in Critical Cloud/Daly Negotiations

As previously reported here, Critical Cloud and golfer John Daly were quite close to concluding a major endorsement deal. Negotiations, however broke down Monday, when Critical Cloud's crack negotiating team discovered they had been negotiating not with golfer John Daly, but with San Francisco Supervisor Chris Daly. A spokesman for the negotiating team stated, "Hey, it could happen to anyone. They both have the same last name. They both have temper tantrums."

Critical Cloud regrets this unfortunate and humiliating turn of circumstances, but cannot guarantee our readers any better performance next time around.

Daly Tied With Tiger After First Round; Critical Cloud and Daly Close to Endorsement Deal

John Daly's longest drive of the day, at the 7th hole, was an incredible 349 yards.

Big John Daly shared second place (three under par) with Tiger Woods and Vijay Singh after the first round of the WGC Amex Championship at Harding Park, San Francisco. True to J.D.'s signature style, he warmed up with a quick smoke while other golfers actually took practice shots.

We are also able to reveal that Daly and Critical Cloud are on the verge of negotiating a major endorsement deal. With our offer to Daly of a six pack of Anchor Steam, two Davidoff Millennium cigars, and a carton of Marlboro Lights, we feel we're very close to an agreement. Hooters, the well known restaurant chain and also one of Daly's sponsors, declined to comment on the impending Daly/Critical Cloud deal.

This Weekend's Hottest Ticket

Tiger, Vijay, Phil, and Chris DiMarco all tee it up at this weekend's Amex Championship in San Francisco's newly renovated Harding Park Golf Course.




Critical Cloud notes with appreciation that cigar smokers can still light up at Harding Park as the SF Board of Supervisors kindly excluded city golf courses from the ordinance forbidding smoking in city parks. Like any of these weenies were ever going to tell John Daly to put out his cigarette.


Big John Daly clobbers it and barely drops the ash off his cigarette.

Critical Cloud will be lighting it up with Daly as we report the stories that Golf Digest refuses to print. See you at the 18th hole.

Fish Consumption is DANGEROUS!

Tuna Salad Can KILL!

Sound the alarm! Call in the cavalry! Bring in the thought police!



One of San Francisco's Lord Protectors has uncovered a startling and insidious conspiracy, aimed at the heart of our fair city. Ross Mirkarimi, intrepid Supervisor of District 5, has discovered that fish contains mercury! Thought you read that ten years ago, didn't you? Wrong-o. Mirkarimi not only discovered this for himself, he now knows the way to salvation from our neurotic fish-eating ways.

Supervisor Mirkarimi has proposed sweeping legislation to require anyone who sells fish (markets, restaurants, etc.) to post mercury warning signs in three languages so that all would-be cod chompers are suitably frightened away from this self-destructive behavior. Mirkarimi is personally leading the way by boycotting his grandmother's tuna melts, that's how serious this is. No word yet on whether he is turning his grandmother in as a lawbreaker and evildoer.

Now let's just say right here that we know mercury is not all that good for you. Nobody is questioning that. What we're questioning is Mr. Mirkarimi's rush to slap a warning label on every danger du jour. We take particular exception to the Mirk's fretting over killer fish, while he promised us some months ago to tackle San Francisco pot club legislation. What's the story there, Ross? Haven't seen shit on how we're going to regulate medical marijuana, but by golly, we going to make sure that those poor school kids aren't ingesting any deadly fish sticks.

Then again, one man's nanny state overkill is another man's thoughtful, I-feel-your-pain, ponytail sensitivity. In that spirit, Critical Cloud offers some other warnings that the City might want to introduce:

WARNING: Breathing gasoline vapor is bad for you. Especially if you have a lit cigarette going.

DANGER: Drying your cat in the microwave may result in harm to your cat. According the FCC, it may also cause interference with other electronic devices.

CAUTION: Giving money to homeless people will not stop them from being homeless. But it does stimulate the underground economy.

NOTICE: Alleys in the City are pee-friendly zones. Watch your step.

ACHTUNG! Your San Francisco Board of Supervisors knows what is best. Don't question them.

Top Ten Tobacconist Endorses Kinky

In a not wholely unexpected announcement, Crazy Marty declared his support for Kinky Friedman as governor of Texas. Crazy Marty, one of the top ten tobacconists worldwide according to Forbes magazine, stated, "I hardly ever get mixed up in political shenanigans unless there is some kind of payout for me personally. But some of his campaign guys bought some cigars from me, so I figured, why not?"


Crazy Marty endorses Kinky Friedman

Kinky Friendman, former leader of the "outlaw" band Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, announced his candidacy for Texas governor earlier this year with the campaign slogan "How Hard Can It Be?" and a no bullshit platform. Kinky states that his administration would put a high emphasis on filling key positions with qualified people. "I'm Jewish, I'll hire good people," Kinky explains.



The real story behind Crazy Marty's support is a study in Nixonian subterfuge. In the past, his involvement, if not outright endorsement, has been crucial in political races. Although he did not publicly endorse either candidate, Crazy Marty's behind-the-scenes machinations probably sunk California Governor Gray Davis' political career and simultaneously catapulted Arnold Schwarzenegger into the job. Astute observers noted, in the days preceeding the recall election, that Arnold appeared in Sherlock's Haven and purchased several cigars and lighters. Gray Davis never came within 100 yards of the store.

And The Terminator rather handily won the race. Coincidence? You can think that if you want, but an increasing number of politicians think otherwise. The smart ones, like Kinky Friedman, are making sure Crazy Marty is in their corner.

see Kinky's campaign cartoon