BERKELEYIZE THEIR MOTHERS

Not a day goes by that I am not glad that I do not live in Berkeley. The only things good there during those first few years back in the States were sex, book stores, pipe tobacco, and an exceptional steak house. Sadly, neither of the latter two items mentioned exist there now.
As for the first, she moved to New York, and that is all I need to say about that.

The tobacco shop was Drucquers, which existed from 1924 till 1990.
There are still some bookstores in Berkeley, on Telegraph.
And steak is now an imperialist construct.
Pasty-faced vegans rule.


Greg Pease's re-created Drucquer blends are available in better places than Berkeley, new and used books can be purchased elsewhere -- there are excellent bookstores all across the country as well as locally -- and the food scene in San Francisco means that I never need to touch non-imperialist vegan muck ever. Mmm, dripping hunks of meat!

Perhaps, today, I should feast on yummy dead pangolin while smoking my pipe and whipping the poor starving Gazan peasants sweating in my sugar cane fields. I have a white linen suit and a Panama hat just for that purpose.

Oh wait. The weather's off. Need a fur coat instead.


There is very little in my preferred neighborhood in San Francisco that could possibly appeal to Berkeleyites, and other than a few limp-wristed Caucasian Buddhists, there is nothing New Age here. If you are vegetarianly inclined, just eat around the lumps of meat. For the gluten phobics, we have rice noodles in beef soup. Also, cheese covered porkchops on baked rice, that doesn't have gluten. Order the rice, avoid the baked spaghetti. Although cheese-covered chops on spaghetti is more popular. You can chant something spiritual while you wait.
If you're from the East Bay, make sure to have a bath before you come.
Oh, and leave the ethnic clothes at home.
They smell bad.

If, from the foregoing, you deduce that folks from the other side of the Bay Bridge get my goat (mij godganselijk de pip geven, so to speak), you may be right. Fortunately they rarely cross my path now, except when there are murderously screaming activist mobs down on Montgomery Street or marching down Market such as during APEC, so they don't interfere when I gasak some roast duck over rice, for instance, or a hearty plate of siu yiuk fan.
Or, hypothetically, a steak. Nice juicy steak. Mmm, mooooo!

I wonder if there's a nearby place where I can get foie gras.
It's been a while since I've had that.



By the way: "de pip geven" (to give the pip) refers to dyspepsia.
Same inspiration as 'agita' or 'agida'. Berkeleyitis.

Plastic! We need more plastic!



This essay inspired primarily by a news article that mentioned Berkeley.
And only distant secondarily by the weather.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================