Fred Phelps was scheduled to visit my home town today. Good old Fred. His antics have done more to help the cause of gay rights than any paid lobbyist could ever hope to accomplish. I renew my call to add him to the payroll…

The touch of anti-Semitism is a nice testimony, I might add, about the Inner Klansman which Fred and his merry band of Topekans face each morning (after their prayers, of course) when looking in the mirror. It’s refershing to see a group which realizes that if one aspires to complete idiocy, one must at least do so consistently.

Speaking of idiots with lousy websites, anyone visited the NRA page recently? I challenge you to find one news item which isn’t in Real Audio format. Not a text article on the whole site. Earth to gun-crazy freaks: the web and TV have not merged quite yet, thank God (even though God may hate gun control too for all I know)…

At least their site will probably cause numerous individuals not to join Charlton’s Raiders (Heston’s Heroes?), so there’s some hope…

Quoth God (through Charlton Heston): “Thou shalt not kill.”

Quoth Archie Bunker (speaking of bigots and idiots): “All scotch tastes the same. It all tastes like iodine.”

Quoth Yer Humble Host: “I hate scotch. God hates iodine. Charlton Heston may hate fags, but I don’t much care”

No, it didn’t make sense, but it sounded amusing while I typed it. Probably had something to do with the lack of sleep…

So I’ve just returned from the Eagle and the going away bash for my friend Eugene, the latest victim of this “great economy” which is doing so many wonderful things for all of San Francisco.

Otherwise, a pretty uneventful weekend. Dan and Jamie came over for dinner on Friday night, I spent most of Saturday updating Did You Bring Bottles (only three months late), and today I tried unsuccessfully (again) to get my hands on some Krispy Kreme Doughuts.

Last Tuesday, as promised, we hit the grand opening. There was a line with a 90 minute wait. We went to a carnival in Oakland instead. This afternoon, the line was down to only an hour. I drove around Oakland and bought a cake at the Super K-mart instead. They’re good doughnuts, but they’re not THAT damned good.

Things I love this week:

• Breyer’s Coffee Ice Cream
• International Boulevard (East 14th Street) in Oakland
• Fargo

Thing I really hate this week:

• Long, hype-induced lines at the Krispy Kreme.

Yeah, I realize that I continue to have nothing particularly interesting to say. It’s always like that after the February sweeps, I guess…

How much do I love this (or this, if you’re inclined toward Windows Media Player)? It’s exactly the tapes I used to make for my friend Duncan, trying to dig up just that one obscure single which peaked at number 37 in 1981 and was never heard much again.

I sometimes wonder if songs like “My Girl” by Chilliwack or “5-7-0-5” by City Boy or “Hold On” by Ian Gomm were really all that good or if they just seem good because they haven’t been played into the ground for 20 years like others which had little more initial chart presence. Even when they were new, though, I think I sort of liked the bottom half of the top 40 a little better than the top half.

But then again, I prefer fog to sunshine too, so my opinions may be questionable. And I have little patience with any of the current top 40, whatever said designation means in 2000 anyway.

Anyway, there’s something sort of comforting about listening to this stuff with that slightly out of phase streaming audio sound. Reminds me of when I used to listen to distant AM radio stations at night.

It’s taken billions of dollars in technology to give us the effect of a cheap transistor radio. By God, I say it was worth it.

Oh God. They’re playing Andy Gibb. Gotta run…

Krispy Kreme opens Tuesday night. I haven’t been quite this excited since I finally found fried okra in San Mateo a couple of months ago. Of course, several friends and I will be there tonight for some grand opening doughnuts. I thought about making this an officially-sanctioned Planet SOMA Non-event™, but I’m not sure exactly what time we’ll be there, so maybe not…

That said, maybe it IS time for another Planet SOMA Non-event™. The birthday thing was kind of fun, and I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Perhaps we could invade the Doggie Diner, or maybe the spacious and often-empty hoffbrau in Daly City. I’m thinking about Saturday 22 April as a potential date, using Jeff’s birthday’s an excuse. Of course, he’ll be in Greensboro at the time, but I think he’d want us to celebrate all the same. Thoughts welcome.

If you’re having trouble reading this, so am I…

We were speaking of inept web design a couple of days back. A case in point would be the piece of crap known as godhatesfags.com. You’d think these idiots would want as many people as possible to read their babbling, but badly-written stylesheets render much of the site illegible on a Mac at 832×624. I could only imagine it’s worse at a higher resolution. I guess ignorant wannabe Christians have a propensity toward ignorant wannabe web designers.

Maybe God hates screen fonts larger than 8-point too…

Time for The Brady Bunch. I’m not sure if it has God’s seal of approval or not, but at least you can read the credits.

Picture shamelessly lifted from It Came from the Porch, because my camera’s still busted, dammit…

“Thanks, to the internet now I can be a nympho and share my body without getting VD or smelling gross guys.” I’d love to claim that wonderful line, but it was in a porn spam I got this afternoon. I just thought it was too perfect not to share with the world. So there it is…

I didn’t realize that Trey was being all industrious and updating his site while he was here. I figured the fact that he was flying back tonight might save me from being the last to write about Saturday’s “bomb this restaurant and put numerous webzines out of business” lunch at Greens.

No such luck, and yes, yer humble host DOES eat the occasional vegetarian meal, thank you.

All in all, it was a nice Saturday, starting with Trey, Mark, Lezlee, Mar and Darren and I in own private dining alcove. One wonders if the wait staff put us there because we looked like we might cause trouble. Afterward, we drove by Sarah’s apartment and waved (she was home sick) and went on a whirlwind tour of San Francisco. we hit all the hotspots: the Tenderloin, the Mission, the Doggie Diner head, and Twin Peaks, not to mention the Planet SOMA Factory™.

It all ended at Safeway (as so many things do with me) and I drove home remembering that I’m rarely disappointed when I meet the flesh and blood renditions of people I’ve met online. Today was not an exception. Class all the way, even if the restaurant did hide us in a corner.

By the way, there are no dirty pictures and I have no idea about any sex clubs in Oakland, nor do I particularly care, thanks…