Zombies eat debaters

Let this be a lesson on how the media portrays reality.

There was a debate of mayoral candidates in San Francisco's downtown public library. After the debate, there was a huge crowd of zombies who started eating the debaters. The police dropped the security gate to separate the debaters from the zombies, but not before at least one debater was eaten.

The media report I saw did not even report the zombie attack. They just reported the debate. But if one of the candidates might no longer be in the race due to being eaten by zombies, isn't that newsworthy ? Maybe the reporter snuck out the back door, and didn't even see the zombies?

Anyway, just be aware, there could be zombie attacks or who knows what else going on, right beside the "news" and it never gets reported, because all news is just someone's version of what's important.

Here's a blog with pics reporting the debate and zombie attack. And here's a video of the zombie attack.

Zombie Drivers

Somehow, this sorta exemplifies the Bay Area morning commute (which is why I'm happy to not be a participant ! )

These people will only stop for morning coffee; nothing else matters.
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Authorities say they may have trouble identifying a body found on Interstate 880 before dawn Thursday because it was repeatedly struck by passing cars for about an hour during the morning commute.
--snip--
The remains of the man were strewn across five lanes and 1,000 feet of highway, CHP Officer Mike Davis said.
--snip--
Since the incident, the CHP has received about 80 phone calls from witnesses or drivers reporting hair or blood on their cars, Davis said.
FULL ARTICLE

Schmoove wit da Ladies !

This is a classic tale of how smooth I am with the ladies...

So I'm at Burning Man Decompression street party. I'm listening to some music, and off to the side I notice a young lady dancing pretty impressively with hula hoops (like, gee, maybe she's a *professional* hula hoop dancer, though I'm not sure where they get employed?!)

I step back to the sidewalk, enjoying the music and another hula hoop woman goes to it. She's about 4'8" tall, maybe a little young for me, but pretty cute, and she certainly knows how to handle a hula hoop (?) She stops, and this guy about 6'5" starts hitting on her. Frankly, he seems awfully domineering. He's wearing a Folsom Prison orange jumpsuit as his costume, and I notice he's got handcuffs on one wrist, like he could just snap the other cuff on her wrist and haul her away. She has glanced at me a few times, and I sorta smile back, but there's this huge guy there bending her ear; what am I going to do?

They're standing about 10' away, but he's so overbearing, that she ever-so-slightly keeps backing away from him -- just 1/2" at a time. Anyway, as this goes on and on, finally, the woman is standing right next to me, close enough that I could just put my arm around her without even moving. Tempting, yes, but there's this 6'5" guy in a prison uniform, and as he's cowering over her, he's also sort of giving me these, "this is my prey, dude" looks. At this point, it's no great effort for me to join their conversation, or at least, get in a word edgewise.

Oddly, they're talking about chickens... How she likes chickens and actually raised a chicken in her 7th floor apartment, but finally had to get rid of it when it started crowing. Well, I've raised chickens! (the neighbor's dog ate them). This woman seems odd enough we could have something in common?

And so, because she's standing close enough for me to put my arm around her, I interject, "Here in the City?"

"No, in San Jose. The tallest building in San Jose... well, the tallest building you can live in, that is."

Anyway, Mr. Folsom Prison is still blathering on about who knows what, and about 5 sentences later, he says, "So, do you live here in town ?"

Dude, we already covered that (thinking, but I remain silent). He starts going on about how he owns a house, and she could have a dog and chickens at his house. (what? this place must be in Lodi or something).

...and as I'm thinking what a loser this guy is, they walk off together. I stand dumbfounded.

An hour or so later, I run into them again. She's hula-hooping to another sound track, and he's standing there showing everyone his lack of rhythm. I dance a bit and think, ok, when he's a fair distance, I'll see if I can get her email address (which will tell me if she at least has basic literacy). Over the course of several songs, four different guys zoom in and chat her up. I, on the other hand, seem to be waiting for air traffic control to give the landing signal.

Oh well, maybe it wouldn't have gone over so well anyway, when I would say something like... "so... did you eat the chicken?"