IT'S ALL ONE BIG BUCKET

The bookseller says the last three or four days have felt "off". And from his account of them, that seems to be right. Naturally I didn't notice because I've already come to terms with this being the stupidest timeline. Everything is "off".

And I'm not even talking about our president blaming Zelinksi for the price of oil, or Kash Patel wanting to "protect the victims of bestiality" by allowing perpetrators to join the FBI.

Which is pretty damned funny in a sick way.
Are they close relatives, Kash?

The bookseller also mentioned that he has felt somewhat out of touch with much of modern entertainment since around 1993. Particularly music. This was at roughly the same time as he recounted being in a line for the pissoir behind several old gentlemen with prostate problems or narrow urethras, which is why intermission was hell.


"Some young men think that the cinema all glamour and glory, but let me tell you, boy, it is all Hell!"
Billie T. Sherman, at the Casbah Theatre.


Mr. Sherman, of course, advocates burning down every men's room in Georgia. With people still in them. And he's right. Everyone in Georgia should piss in a bucket. Just my thoughts.

Here in San Francisco we need a bucket on every street corner. Not just for skeevy types and people in the entertainment business, but also for foreign tourists, who go around asking shopkeepers if they can use their bucket and moaning about how hard it is to find a bucket in this city. Also in movie houses, where the number of pissoirs is insufficient for an intermission shorter than an entire hour given that so many film buff old geezers have urinary tract problems or lazy bladders. Or gigantic prostates.

While smoking my pipe and waiting for the bookseller to get off work, several people who had visited Becket Street outside the projects for bucketing strolled past zipping up their trousers, and a few "eccentrics" dithered up and down the block just beyond the light. Beckett Street sometimes is a public bucket, and has also been known for vagrants smoking crack or getting right bent on other substances. It's okay. He's just admiring the shape of your skull. Mayor Lurie, who promised to make the city great again, has sofar simply ripped up trees all over the place and chased the layabouts away from the shopping district.

The karaoke place was full. For the price of bad singing you can use their unisex bucket. The hamburger joint's bucket is out of order. It's been years since I've used a bucket at either the bail-out bar, or the bail-out from the bail-out. Where there must be a bucket.

I think the reason why so many young American women like seedy bars and karaoke places is because they have buckets and you can do all your bucketing in private, whereas Beckett Street has windows. That kind of detracts from the pleasure.
Of bucketing. Which otherwise is a joy.



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