Horizon

For "punk cuisine" I nominate Robbie's kipper chow mein in *Death or Bongo*.

That and when Sebastianelli saw Lagunitas beer claimed to be "punk brewed" so he asked if there were bodily fluids in it.

Re: Tahoe, you probably know this but it's the dullest and richest stratum of San Francisco who go there, so no fair blaming all of us for it. Pronunciation being "TAAAH-hoe" and context being either summer-cabin or apres-ski.

As opposed to *South* Lake Tahoe, which is where poor San Franciscans go to live while they work cleaning the dull rich people's vacation cabins.

Re: earthquake, nobody who was here in 1989 would call you crazy. I hope you've wired the tops of your bookshelves to the wall?

Actually, it was South Lake Tahoe. I don't really know the area so I didn't realize that was important. Anyway, my impression was that most of the people I saw were not from the Bay Area apart from probably a good proportion of the skiers. So my intended point was more that the Bay Area isn't as different from the rest of the world as people think.

No, my bookshelves are still au natural. I know, it's stupid, but I have these old walls made out of weird materials and I'm afraid to screw anything into them. My strategy is to be out of here before it hits rather than waste time trying to safetify myself. Down that path lies false confidnence.

Don't even bother planning an escape route if you sleep under an unsecured bookcase. Put a little eyebolt screw in the wall and another in the back of your bookshelf. Wire them together. Takes half an hour if that. Yeah, we couldn't find an upright either but even a screw placed in dry-rotted lath has got to be better than nothing. If you really can't muss the walls, at least push a few layers of cardboard under the front edge of the bookshelf to tilt it backward.

If you need an incentive, my second cousin's family were on a lucky out-of-town visit during the Northridge quake & came home to find a bookcase had dropped flat straight face-down on their bed, books still in order on the shelves.

You know, here in the East, we don't have killer bookshelves.

Or bees.

Don't even bother planning an escape route if you sleep under an unsecured bookcase.

Believe me, I wouldn't put anything near my bed that might squash me. I won't even sit on the couch because L. has fastened a set of wooden shelves right above it and I don't want to get 13 lbs of wood right in the abdomen, thanks very much.

But on the other hand my bookshelves are all near doorways and that might make it difficult to exit before the building collapses.

Well, when Loma Prieta hit, I dutifully went and stood in a doorway.... except it had a glass door in it.... which by pure luck didn't swing shut. So ya never know.

Bobby, we don't have killer bees here either. The Animal Control department here has developed and posted procedures to be followed in case of killer bee swarm but they worry more about dogs and raccoons. And the occasional herd of rare Barbadian rams.

A.H., sorry about the false impression. Thought you were saying San Francisco had made Tahoe into an echo of itself. In fact you're saying that the whole rest of the country is pretty much like the SF Bay Area except that they snicker at us -- is that it?

I'll see your rams and raise you a pack of coyotes and three flocks of feral chickens. You'd think that one nuisance would take care of the others, but no such luck.

Not that we've had any shortage of advice on the matter from the West Coast. (Scroll to the middle of the page.)

Feral chickens? Another reason for skipping Texas on the next road trip.

And last night I'm trying to concentrate on a letter from Pliny the Younger to Trajan

Didn't your mother ever teach you about reading other peoples' private correspondence?

Didn't your mother ever teach you about reading other peoples' private correspondence?

If Pliny was so concerned about that, why'd he sell it all to Penguin?

three flocks of feral chickens

I believe this will be a wonderful day now that this exquisite phrase has paraded its way into my consciousness.

In fact you're saying that the whole rest of the country is pretty much like the SF Bay Area except that they snicker at us -- is that it?

One thing you all have to understand about me is that I don't do transitions. That's 'cause I'm edgy and get a kick out of baffling others.

LOL at accumulated weirdness.

Ben, I hesitate to ask, but how can you tell if a chicken is feral? Is there a special gleam in its eye or what?

...oh, and San Francisco always has to be different: here we've got wild parrots. (Or do I mean "feral parrots"?)

(P.S. Geewhillickers, just read the Austin Chronicle coyote story. Texans are scary, scary creatures.)

how can you tell if a chicken is feral

How do you tell a feral chicken? Those are the ones that lunge for your throat like machines of avian death!

(I just took a big midterm and feel loopy. I'll be back to my usual curmudgeonly self presently.)

I'm not sure if I'll visit SF again, what with the turf wars raging in the streets.

And Martha might seem scary too, if a pack of ravenous coyotes ate her newspaper-reading cat.

Kipper Chow Mein is repetitive too, just like punk; the flavour comes back for twelve and more hours, why it even repeats on you when you've eaten another meal. Spam Risotto's good as well.

(I just took a big midterm and feel loopy. I'll be back to my usual curmudgeonly self presently.)

Maybe we should get Alan to take midterms more often.

And Martha might seem scary too, if a pack of ravenous coyotes ate her newspaper-reading cat.

True. I would.

BTW, and I am not making this up: the cousins with the killer bookshelves have parents who retired to a house in the country where a coyote really did eat their cat. It was the biggest cat I've ever seen, too. Easily a fifteen-pounder.

P.S. Even if I did get scary on a pack of coyotes, I'm not sure the first thing I'd think of to use would be a fire hose. "We don't train fire hoses on people in San Francisco." (A bullwhip, now...)

I just Googled "Punk Cuisine" and came up with this article. The weird part is, I honestly can not tell if it's supposed to be a joke.

Bet you it's serious. I know people like that (obliquely, thank god).

Which is not to say it doesn't make a passable joke as well.

I know people like that (obliquely, thank god).

That's the fourth time today I've read the word oblique (from various sources, one being a crossword). There was a day last week when I ran into eponymous three times.