Get Yours or Go Home…

The Life and Times of Grandpa Parm & Scheme-On

Bock Obama: The Recently Inaugurated Beer of Choice

l_89b9fce380d40793c8fb6918729114e3Bar conversations are generally either one of two things: a serious convo in which two people partake in intellectual discourse while information is being exchanged, or a rumbling and incoherent gathering of words and phrases, most of which don’t make sense. In my experience, there is not much middle ground as any conversation not applicable to the definition stated above will be forgotten within minutes. Sometimes pure genius arises from these eloquent bar-talks, where you are enlightened by another or you find someone more interesting than the cute bartender. Other times nothing comes of it because the drinks became easier to drink and the distractions of flesh deterred your attention. My point is, that if we don’t look out for those stimulating conversations and intimate discussions that dive bars provide, then we have all failed to profit from our money-burning habit. How do you profit from drinking? You come up with amazing inventions and ideas that only a light buzz could provide.

On a special Monday night at the Tee-Off in which pure genius was encountered during a bar conversation comprising of nothing more than alcohol-influenced banter and a little bullshit, a light bulb in my buddy’s head turned on and produced a great idea. The idea was to open a brewery/bar/pub that names its microbrews after current and ex-presidents. The idea is unique and interesting, but is obviously extremely biased and only reflects the feelings of a small number of people and thus would alienate a ton of beer drinkers making it hard to sell in all places. A bit far-fetched, but a good idea nonetheless. Anyway, about three people not including myself sat around for an hour coming up with interesting names for beers. Some notables were… “Hillary Clinton: Extra Bitter”, “Bock: Obama”, “Bush’s Black Gold Porter”, “Gitmo Toture Ale” etc. Some day, when we choose to erase those party lines and realize that divisions only make progress harder, we will whip up these ales and everyone will enjoy a beer that mocks the history of the presidency while refreshing our palates all at the same time. Yummy.



January 28, 2009 Posted by | Bars, Life, Politicos | , , , | 2 Comments

Nonchalant Domination…

james2Nonchalant Domination…

The Importance of Finesse

(Style, Life, Sports)


San Diego, CA (11/29/08) – Now I don’t consider myself someone who possesses any exceptional talent or even someone with good style for that matter, but last night in Encinitas while sapping a non-alcoholic Tecate light (courtesy of Stamp’D LA – thanks barn) I managed to nonchalantly dominate Chris Stamp, Jerrell Wallace and this girl named Melly at high-stakes ping pong. We moved on to Goldschlager / cranberry and charades… nonchalantly dominated. We moved on to the Saloon… nonchalantly dominated. We moved on to D-Street… nonchalantly dominated. We moved on to 4th meal Susan Stamp Thanksgiving leftovers… nonchalantly dominated. Next thing I knew I nonchalantly woke up extremely hungover and I nonchalantly epiphanized that in these troubled times of economic peril and unprecedented violence, finesse and nonchalant domination is what really matters. These qualities are absolutely critical to achieving success and respect as we move through life. According to a freakishly short drug-addict, woman beating, politically retarded, bankrupt black child star whose character name rhymes with fester, nonchalant domination can be defined as having an air of easy unconcern or indifference while exercising mastery, supremacy, preeminence or ruling power over another. Whether socially, professionally, in sports, or just in life, some feel that the end result is all that matters, but I would argue that the way in which an individual goes about achieving that end result makes all the difference. Individuals like Allan Iverson of the Detroit Pistons, Leon Washington of the New York Jets, Tom Penny of the skateboarding world; people like this are what make life worth living and sports worth watching. The ability to accomplish an extremely difficult task and look good doing it is a highly commendable quality and something we all should strive for in our own lives, because if you can’t exude a level of finesse and nonchalant domination in your craft, you might as well be Tim Duncan or George W. Bush.  


Get Nonchalant or Go Home


November 30, 2008 Posted by | Life, Sports, Style | , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The One-Man Band…

The One-Man Band…
Independent Mastermind or Anti-Social Scumbag???
(Music, Life)

picture-15San Francisco, CA, 11/15/08 – So last night I wandered into this little black hole of a concert room at Hemlock Tavern, through the pieces of industrial car wash plastic to find what sounded like an extremely sloppy Wolfmother-type band. I couldn’t fully see the stage, only the top of the singer’s head, so pushed my way closer to try and spot the drummer and to my surprise realized that this band was not a band at all. It was one super exhausted dude, pounding Pabst Blue Ribbon, wailing on a guitar, screaming into a mic, with his right foot on a bass drum and left foot on a high hat… it was awesome. Witnessing this demonstration of musical multi-tasking made me start thinking about how one makes the decision to start a one-man band. What’s the natural progression? Do these people usually start off in a normal band then end up going rogue, or are they just hardcore one-man banders from birth? What’s the motivation? What type of individual has the passion to take on what a group of 3-5 people generally do? Are they just independent musical masterminds with exceptional creativity and talent, or are they anti-social panhandling scumbags who are so awkward and annoying that they can’t even find 3-5 other people who want to be in a band with them? There are plenty of solo artists out there, but this shit’s on a whole ‘nother level. You have to give them props for their talent though, I mean I can barely pat my head and rub my belly at the same time let alone play 5 instruments simultaneously and sing. The closest I can get to multi-tasking is drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette at the same time, and shit, I’ve even had trouble with that. That being said, I leave you with this quote from Joe Barrick’s one-man band webpage:

“The one-man band exists, in all its uniqueness and independence, as a most elusive yet persistent musical tradition.  As a category of musicianship it transcends cultural and geographic boundaries, spans stylistic limits, and defies conventional notions of technique and instrumentation.  Defined simply as a single musician playing more than one instrument at the same time, it is an ensemble limited only by the mechanical capabilities and imaginative inventiveness of its creator, and despite its generally accepted status as an isolated novelty, it is a phenomenon with some identifiable historical continuity.”

Get Independent or Go Home…

November 16, 2008 Posted by | Life, Music | , , , , | 4 Comments

Bacchus Kirk…

Bacchus Kirk…
Apex of a Plastered Universe
(Nightlife, Bars, Life)

San Francisco, CA, 10/18/08 – Have you ever been to a bar where everyone is so ridiculously shitfaced that it feels like you’re in some sort of alternate universe? Well if not, stop by Bacchus Kirk on Bush & Taylor in SF and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. “Bacchus” refers to the Greek god of wine and intoxication and “Kirk” refers to a church or Lord’s house. Strangely fitting, Bacchus was also known as the Liberator, freeing one from one’s normal self, by madness, ecstasy, or wine, and the frenzy he induces, known as “bakcheia”, which happened to be in full effect last night. It started out as a normal evening; I met Gramps to shoot some pool and there was this group of haggard Danish dudes who had been boozing all day at the Red Bull soap box races, one of which wrote his name on the white board for pool and it looked like chicken scratch from a 5 year old doctor. Nonetheless, everything was pretty standard until a group of about 25 socialites coming from a bowling alley wedding reception showed up and all hell broke loose. The place instantly turned into a sloppy old person dance party which was actually pretty entertaining, until I noticed one of the freaks watching us play pool and rolling her eyes like she was watching a bunch of mentally challenged toddlers trying to do quantum physics. We made eye contact and I gave her a little nod like “What the fuck’s your problem?” and she automatically came over and proceeded to tell me that this was the most pathetic game of pool she’s ever witnessed. In so many words I told her to fuck off and get over herself and continued with my game. A couple minutes later another tore-back individual, who was wearing a Bill Clinton mask for whatever reason, was dancing wildly and unknowingly knocked over the devil woman’s full glass of chardonnay and continued on with his embarrassing charade, which was absolutely awesome. Devil woman proceeded to flip out and Bill Clinton’s friend bought her a new glass of wine to calm her down. The pompous bitch then decided to skip about 3 people in line for pool and began playing against this cool little skater chick. I noticed this about half way through, called her out on it, we bickered back and fourth for a few minutes then she continued with her subpar performance, all while exuding pool snob retardedness. The skater chick ended up scratching on the eight ball and devil woman made some comment like, “Don’t you think it’s fitting that I won?” and the skater chick’s friend came up and gave the Asian pool Nazi a nice elbow to the back. At this point shit started to go down. Half the bar’s hammered patrons were trying to break up the bullshit and calm the bitch down, all while she was screaming that she was a lawyer and the girl was going to jail, etc, etc… Eventually the bartender kicked the barnacle out, but she proceeded to call the cops in an attempt to press charges. All in all 6 cops showed up and while eavesdropping on the Nazi’s side of the story I felt the need to get involved, so I dropped some knowledge to the pigs and they agreed that the pompous bitch was retarded and that they were completely wasting their time. Bottom line, if you hate life that much, you should just stay inside your apartment watching Requiem for a Dream on repeat, drowning in your own bitterness and depression, because all you’re doing when you go out is spreading negative energy and making yourself look like a douche bag. After that, the drama may have been over, but the “bakcheia” was only getting started as the drinks continued to flow. From the Clinton masks, to the guy/girl (not sure) dressed up like a geisha, to the dude in a kilt and the blacked-out Danish air guitarist who looked like Peanut and told me about Scottish sheepherders who eat corn with sheep’s blood, to the barney that wiped off a whole white board of pool players to plan out his jukebox playlist, to the overweight guy confessing in detail his desire to screw all the older women in the bar, something about this place just makes people loop the fuck out. I don’t know if the planets align when you walk through the front door, if there’s something getting pumped through the vents or being put in the drinks, or if it’s the work of a Greek god, but whatever it is… Bacchus Kirk is fucking awesome!

Get Bacchused or Go Home…

October 20, 2008 Posted by | Bars, Life, Nightlife | , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Kerouac, Lopan, Murs and the Wildcat Offense

I love reading Jack Kerouac for the simple reason that he doesn’t use traditional writing methods to convey thoughts. His stream of consciousness style along with the fact that the guys was sober for about 2 hours a day make his books some of the most interesting reads to this day. The beats live on.

The day that I can watch “Big Trouble in Little China” and not want to cruise the alleys of Chinatown looking for the Lords of Death is the day I have lost all reason to live. I still have voices in my head telling me that the Wing Kong Exchange actually exists and that Gracie Law is still in her late twenties looking for David Lopan. It may be true that Chinese black magic does not exist, but in my world, I’d rather believe that it does. Sorcery, magic, and the reality that “his flesh and bones become atomized and he becomes a dream.” That’s what I’m all about.

Murs dropped a great new album called, “Murs for President” and here is my thoughts on it… I think it is pretty much a collection of bangers with a few droplets of pop/mainstream bullshit mixed in. Something I did not realize when purchasing this album, is that Warner Bros. released it, officially dropping Murs from the high ranks of the “Underground” and elevating him to “MTV” status. I really don’t care anymore. I don’t watch MTV and I encourage anybody not to. I also do not talk about the “Underground” scene as anything more than a historic time period where hip hop was celebrated without any outside distractions. These days nobody is truly “Underground”, but they can be “Independent” or “Mainstream” and still be respected by any music lover. The lines have been blurred and so Murs felt the need to make his music more accessible to the world and I will not judge him for it. There was a time when I would get all Lopan on you if you tried to call a hip hop group “underground” when they were on a major label and had a video out. Now a days, I just don’t care.

The stupid “Wildcat” offense that the Miami Dolphins have used to embarrass the two teams that met in last year’s AFC Championship game is actually fun to watch. It just so happens that they made my Chargers look like a bunch of teenage girls at a high school field hockey game and I am not happy about it. I enjoy watching different formations, clever play calls, and unique running plays that catch traditional defenses off guard, but not against my team. The only solace I got from last weekend’s horrendous game in Miami is that Roger Goodell fined Ronnie Brown for orchestrating that stupid “Cupid” dance he performed after scoring off a “Wildcat” run. Whoever thought that dance would be a hit was right I guess, but it looks pretty damn stupid to me.

Renting and venting from the bay where Blue Angels fly and people apparently like to kill themselves.


October 12, 2008 Posted by | Film, Life, Music, Sports | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Critical Mass…

Critical Mass…
Saving the World Two Wheels at a Time???
(News, Politics, Life)


San Francisco, CA, 10/4/08 – If I was hip enough to mash through the city on a fixed-gear, skidding down hills, weaving through traffic, tourists, and the homeless, all while drinking a Pabst and smoking a P-Funk, I would be that much cooler, I would get around that much faster, and I could hang out at Dolores Park on Sundays with a 22oz. and a bandana around my neck, but to be honest, I have enough close calls just fucking walking that I would probably end up dead under a Muni bus within a week. That being said, unfortunately I was not in attendance Friday, September 25th, 1992 at 6pm when a couple dozen cyclists took to the streets of SF to participate in an event, which at that time was known as “Commute Clot”. With hopes of drawing attention to how unfriendly the city was to bicyclists, this group of vigilantes reclaimed the streets for the evening. Soon after, Ted White’s documentary about bike culture overseas, Return of the Scorcher, effectively changed the name of the event, which is now attended by thousands upon thousands of cyclists every month in over 300 cities worldwide, to “Critical Mass”. The documentary depicted the Chinese phenomenon where traffic would “bunch up” at intersections without signals until the backlog reached a “critical mass”, at which point that mass would move through the intersection in an orderly manner. As the event has grown over the years the mass rides have been perceived in many different ways. Some see Critical Mass as a monthly environmental political-protest, characterized as part of a social movement, while others insist that the event is simply a “celebration” or spontaneous gathering. This allows Critical Mass to argue a legal position that its events can occur without advance notification of local police. As you can imagine, thousands of bicyclists taking over downtown areas of cities on a Friday at rush hour can cause some serious traffic issues and piss a lot of people off. Many critics have claimed that Critical Mass is a deliberate attempt to obstruct automotive traffic and disrupt normal city functions, which have caused numerous incidents between cyclists and motorists or authorities resulting in violence and arrests. So whether our two-wheeling friends are out there to save the world, disrupt societal functions, or just take a peaceful ride, come the last Friday of every month… the situation is critical.

Get Critical or Go Home…

October 5, 2008 Posted by | Life, News, Politicos | , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Beautiful Losers…

Beautiful Losers…
Inspiration, Motivation, & Creation


San Francisco, CA, 9/5/08 – Circa 2004 I attended an exhibition at the Yerba Buena Center for the Arts in SF entitled, Beautiful Losers, which featured work from a diverse group of visual artists who spawned from street culture, specifically, the subcultures of skateboarding, graffiti, punk, and hip-hop in urban America. With my roots in the Southern California skateboarding culture, supplemented by a couple years of living in hyper-diverse SF, this exhibit was strangely familiar and of course, inspirational. Fast forward to September 2008, I’m walking down the street and as I’m passing a small independent movie house, I see a poster for the Beautiful Losers film. Stoked to see the familiar aesthetic and intrigued by what the film may convey, I make sure to attend opening night. As expected, the film was a documentary about the artists, their lives, and the art they create, but it was much more than just that. Beautiful Losers was a film about life, told by some of the most interesting and honest losers I’ve come across, including Aaron Rose, Ed Templeton, Shepard Fairey, and Stephen Powers just to name a few. It was about a cluster of friends from all different backgrounds coming together and creating something bigger than themselves and unique to the world around them. It was about growing up knowing you don’t fit the norm, embracing it, and telling everyone else to fuck off. Put it this way, the word “eccentric” doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface, so gather all the beautiful losers you know and check it out…

Get Inspired or Go Home…

September 7, 2008 Posted by | Art, Film, Life | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments