Scary Larry

The Secret Life of Mission Baristas

When they aren't busy squandering their education on borderline Instagrammable latte art, they're waterboarding kidnap victims, doing blade hits, and drawing unfortunately-sized dongs on dinosaurs.

This and more on today's reason to never go to Rodger's Coffee.

Tenderloin Cocaine and Prostitute Dispensary Goes Upscale

RJ's Sports Bar on Geary was a weird place.  My introduction to it was last summer, when I was characteristically drinking with some idiots at Whiskey Thieves until it became uncomfortably packed and sought refuge inside RJ's most unwelcoming doors.  There was a vague feeling of menace in the air, but the bar was host to an exceptional TV-to-person ratio and the old Korean ladies behind the bar seemed nice enough, so we saddled up and resumed our nightly demise.

As we got deeper into our beers, we tried to figure out the scene we had happened upon.  There were piles of massive speakers stacked in the corner in anticipation of some great event that would never happen.  The gray haired man sporting a fishing hat who feverishly danced with a pair of worn out whores seemed a bit too happy with his situation.  And why the fuck was the jukebox playing Aqua and strange Mexican Oompah music in seemingly equal quantity?

Well, as the night dragged on, we apparently ordered the magic combination of beers and liquor because the nice old Korean bartender finally put it all together for us with a simple offer: “Cocaine?”

I guess that explained the unexpectedly clean bathroom complete with chest-high shelving.

As these things usually go, the bar was shut down by ABC some weeks later.  Who could be surprised?  Their Yelp reviews range from coked-out praise to grim tales of whoring amongst the staff.  And now it's shedding its ironic crime-scene appeal and going upscale.

SFist reports:

Most of you know RJ's Sports Bar as that yellow-signage watering hole you see while smoking on the patio at Rye. “What is that place,” you ask yourself between drags. “It scares me a bit.” Well, it's a bar. Obviously. And now it's been sold to House of Shields owner Dennis Leary and bar manager Eric Passetti. Brava!

Now, will the noted Canteen chef and expert bar manager turn Sports Bar into yet another reclaimed-wood-and-Edison-bulb bar of mixology? Hardly. In fact, they've reportedly had it up to here with the overemphasis on cocktailologyness.

Let's hope they don't let the old fishing hat dude down.


Intrepid Journalist Captures Hoodlum Cyclists BLAZING Through Harrison Street Stop Sign At Multiple MPH


Our all-time favorite TV journalist Stanley Roberts has turned his nanny cam back onto San Francisco's ever-increasing population of two-wheeled criminals.  But this time he's not waging war on the Wiggle; rather, taking a look at the the 3-way intersection at 18th and Harrison.  Witness:

Now, it might be worth pointing out that the offending bike lane and ghost rider in question doesn't actually cut through traffic, as they ride beside parked cars like it was any old stretch of road. (Might I add that it's incredibly common for motorists not to be required to stop in such cases either.)  But I suppose nuance and reason is irrelevant in the media's war on bikes.

Ty Segall's New Video Reminds Me Why I'm Repulsed By the Human Body

The naked human body: what an awful sight.  It's one that ought to be illegal.  And thanks to Ty Segall's new video for “Thank God For The Sinners,” I'm once again reminded that we're all just a pair of fangs and a million eyeballs away from being spiders.  Yuck-eee.

But, in all seriousness, this incredibly unsettling 3 minute psilocybin mushroom trip is the perfect way to kick-off The Day After.  I'm just disappointed that this army of hands didn't devolve into a synchronized “Here's The Church, Here's The Steeple” dance routine.

[via The Bay Bridged]

The Lovable Scumbags of 1970s La Lengua

With San Francisco's resident population of immaculate assholes ever hungry for microhood coverage, SF Chronicle columnist Carl Nolte took a page out of The Hold Phallic's microhood-drizzled playbook and explored the dainty enclave of La Lengua.  While most of the news is neither news nor particularly interesting (they have a parklet!), his look back at the neighborhood shitheads of a generation past is worth the read alone:

It was a tough part of town in the 1970s. “Blue collar,” said Richard Perri, who used to own Cavanaugh's, a 29th and Mission landmark bar.

“We had a customer named Ice Pick Larry who had a big scar on his face,” he recalled. “We had Gorilla Doug, who would come in and say, 'I can lick anybody in the house.' And he could, too. We had Lyle the Swamper, who would clean up the joint after hours in exchange for drinks. Real Damon Runyon stuff.”

How long ago was that? “We had a grand opening and served 86 proof whiskey, 35 cents a shot, three drinks for a dollar,” Perri said. “Long time ago.”

But Cavanaugh's wasn't tough all the time. “We had poetry readings once in a while,” he said.

The .35¢ whiskey sounds pretty clutch, but I suppose I'm all set with getting slobbered on by Gorilla Doug (even if it is La Lengua).  I guess this is what they call progress.


San Francisco's Lurkiest Home Videos

Ordinary Weirdos appears to be San Francisco's very own version of “You're On Candid Camera” meets an Art School exercise in voyeuristic banality (BAM! FILM SCHOOL! GOT MY MONEY'S WORTH MOM AND DAD.)

The first Ordinary Weirdos video I saw featured a pair of transients smoking and drinking outside a McDonald’s, and I was concerned that the whole thing was going to be some sort of class-tourism video-expedition-into-poverty for the sake of “art”.  But the next few videos that I watched, featuring a surfer changing out of a wetsuit behind his Corvette and a woman with a well-endowed posterior posing for wedding party photos, assured me that Ordinary Weirdos was voyeuristic simply for the oddly compelling creep factor alone. There’s something soothing about the stillness of these videos that appeals to the lurker in us all. Or at least just in me. 

Take Mushrooms and Celebrate Thanksgiving With Nutbags, Conspiracy, and Political Assassination!

I know you're hella bummed you can't be back home chatting it up with your crazy Uncle Jimmy who has proof that Obama is a Kenyan reptilian sent to subjugate the human race, but the Roxie will do you one better.  Today (Thanksgiving!), The Roxie is putting on an evening-long tribute to the 49rd anniversary of JFK's assassination with a special screening of Oliver Stone's JFK and a host of character witnesses and experts discussing the killing. Some of the highlights include:

James H. Fetzer - A former Marine Corps officer who served at the same Recruit Depot and Rifle Range where Lee Oswald took his training, has become one of the leading authorities on the death of JFK in the world today. He has published three collections of studies by experts—ASSASSINATION SCIENCE (1998), MURDER IN DEALEY PLAZA (2000), and THE GREAT ZAPRUDER FILM HOAX (2003)—which the foremost proponent of the theory that “Oswald did it!”, Vincent Bugliosi, has described as “the only exclusively scientific books ever published on the assassination”. He is the only scholar who has given lectures on the conspiracy behind JFK's death at Cambridge, Harvard and Yale.

Fetzer could also be described as a “total nutbag” whose other beliefs include (1) the George W. Bush administration was, at least, partially responsible for 9/11, (2) Senator Paul Wellstone was assassinated by a “sophisticated electromagnetic pulse weapon,” “probably at the behest of the Bush administration,” and (3) “the CIA, the American Mafia, anti-Castro Cubans, Texas oilmen, the 'military–industrial complex', as well as Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard Nixon, and J. Edgar Hoover, all may have been involved in a plot to kill [President Kennedy].”

Also fun!:

Judyth Vary Baker - Judyth Vary Baker was Lee Harvey Oswald's girlfriend at the time of the Kennedy Assassination. During their 5-month relationship Judyth was introduced to key players in Lee Harvey Oswald's world, all of whom would ultimately present themselves to be involved in the assassination in one way or another. In 1991, Judyth finally broke her years-long silence on her relationship with Oswald, divulging intimate details about David Ferrie, Jack Ruby and Guy Bannister (all of whom are depicted in Oliver Stone's JFK). Judyth's story was featured in Nigel Turner's comprehensive 8-part documentary,The Men Who Killed Kennedy. In 2011, Judyth published her story in a book titled: Me and Lee: How I came to know, love and lose Lee Harvey Oswald. Due to threats made on her life, Judyth presently lives in Europe. Her appearance at the Roxie theater will be a rare and wonderful occasion to hear her accounts first-hand. Judyth will also be signing copies of her book at this event.

There's also some guys who have been featured on Fox News and Alex Jones' Infowars, so you know this is going to be an absolute clusterfuck of comedy.

Get your tickets now! I wish I could be there! (And here's the full schedule:)

4:00PM Doors Open
4:45PM Introductions
4:50PM Dr. Paul Kangas
5:15PM Kris Millegan
5:25PM Screening of Oliver Stone's JFK
8:30PM James H. Fetzer, Ph.D.
9:00PM Saint John Hunt
9:30PM Judyth Vary Baker
10:30PM Questions and Answers

(Fun side note!: when searching Google Images for photos of the “JFK Assassination”, a mess of headshots of Rebecca Black come up.  Maybe it's because she looks like a weird version of Jackie Kennedy? Maybe it's because she did it?)

Those Fuzzy Pink Mustaches on Cars Actually Mean Something

I've been seeing cars driving around the city with those weird pink fuzzy mustaches on their grills for some months now.  I figured it was just a cancer protest, or maybe the automobile version of the hanky code, thereby alerting fellow motorists to honk twice for some parking lot handie or something.  But after seeing more and more of these things, my curiosity got the better of me.  So while crossing the street the other day, I spotted one of these pink mustache rides stopped at the red light and went up to the driver's window, knocked on it, and asked what's up.

Here's a brief account of the conversation, most of which the young female driver spent frantically finishing for something in her purse (mace?):

Me: Hey, what's the deal with the pink mustache thing on…

Driver: I don't have any money leave me alone!

Me: What? No, I wanna know about the mustache.

Driver (cracking her window): Oh, uh, it tells people that I'm a taxi.

Me: A what?

Driver: It's through an app called Lyft.  People say they need a ride and I go pick 'em up. Donation-based. They give me however much they think is fair to pay me.

Me: Isn't that illegal?

Driver: No. At least I don't think it is.

Me: Weird.

Driver: Dude the light is green and you're standing in the middle of traffic.

Me: Oh, right.

Anyway, now I know!

Impersonator Misses Hunky Jesus Contest by 143 Days

Uptown reader “ALWAYS HIGH” (shrug) sent along this snap of Jesus carrying a cross down Mission Street, noting “I found Jesus today.”

We can only assume that either (1) this man is unfortunately very late for Dolores Park's Hunky Jesus Contest or (2) he's being nailed up somewhere between Thrift Town and the methy Walgreens.