Yelping in Philly

I wanted to write something today but didn't have any good ideas. A lot of the time, the blogging bit is inspired by something stupid or spontaneous that just somehow seems catchy. No such luck today, but still had the inkling to write, so I sat here for a while starting at this empy space and all I could think of at first was complaining about something. There's always plenty to complain about, Idaho wolf hunts, the economy, how disappointing I'm finding Obama's handling of the health care debate, but how productive is that?

So, I decided I'd point out how much I've gotten into Yelping recently, and I think I'm being creative there. Back in San Francisco, Yelp is taken for granted since it's a homegrown site everybody uses and the saturation level of reviews is high enough that most everything's got a gazillion reviews. As a result, I got used to making about 90% of my local consumer decisions using Google Maps and Yelp (and they're integrated of course) as my resources, but due to the abundance of opinions never felt like contributing my own.

Not so in Philadelphia. Here Yelp is still catching on comparatively. There's decent coverage, but not depth of reviews and you hear a lot of businesses don't know what it is (whereas they advertise their Yelp-savviness by sticker in San Francisco) so I'm finding a niche in promoting the technology and making it richer by bringing to bear my considerable, ahem, taste and opinions on the Philadelphia consumer market. So far I'm pretty bar and restaurant focused, as is a lot of the general blather online (evidenced by the surplus of banal Twitter and Facebook status updates about eating (who cares you're eating a sandwich)), but on Yelp at least it's solicited rather than forced upon.

But, to branch out and contribute usefully to the collective discourse in areas of life more fraught with import than the simple and regular filling of bellies, I've got reviews coming on a framing shop (results TBD), a barber (it takes a month to know how good a haircut is) and a home contractor (the first I've ever employed). I'll be thinking critically whenever I purchase a good or service and think the next guy might benefit should I pay it forward. Would this be a good forum for spreading the word amongst newcomers to Philly about the ugly necessity of automatic witholding of the dread Philadelphia Wage Tax and ensuring your employer's got your back there?

So I'm thinking big, but won't always blog about it, so I've embedded the Yelp map of my reviews on the right nav. I hope you'll follow.

Goodbye California

I'm out of San Francisco for at least the next two years. It didn't really sink in until I was on the first span of the Bay Bridge heading East on Monday evening as a typically golden California sunset bathed the Bay Area in perfect light.

I'm leaving a great city, a great state and too many great people to name, but you know who you are. Not to get to maudlin or sentimental, but I'll miss this place and the times I had here.

La Trappe - Belgian Beers and European Atmosphere

If you like your beer with European subtleties and prefer the candle-lit and whispered camaraderie of the World War II underground atmosphere, La Trappe in North Beach may be right up your alley.

Upon entry last night, the 'Belgian Bistro' on the ground floor was empty. Proceeding down the spiral staircase into the basement revealed a dimly lit hipsters' paradise (aka the 'Trappist Lounge') with imported quaff flowing by the centiliter and the inviting scent of twice-fried Belgian frittes warming up the air.

As ever the G1 cameraphone was up to the task, capturing the mood with suitably artistics tones and dream-like resolution.

We picked a table for waiter service and dined on plump, delicious mussels in a traditional mariniere beer broth accompanied by expertly done frittes with a wide array of epicurean mayos and ketchups for dipping.

And the beer's were terrific. I'm not up on the Belgian beer knoweldge enough to qualify it, but their menu of draughts and bottles was extensive to say the least and included literature and history on the variety and tradition of Monastic beer from Belgium. It was hard to choose, but then it was probably tough to go wrong and my special lady and I were both very happy with our beer choices.

Now Presenting "Nuclear Sunrise"

My first effort at sun-soaked photography was such a hit, I had to follow it up with a more optimistic take on things, hence 'Nuclear Sunrise,' a reminder that even after our darkest hours another day is in the offing with hope for blue skies and clear breeze and a chance to make things right.

At least that's how I read the pale light and more modest saturation as compared to Sunset. What's amazing is that the extremely simple camera on the G1 can easily handle what is a technically difficult shot with more advanced cameras. The automated aperture and shutter speed adjustment works pretty well as long as there is plenty of light. In lowlight conditions the iPhone camera performs much better, which must be a testament to some built in gain in addition to the slow shutter speed featured on both phones' cameras.

I Call This One "Nuclear Sunset"

Presenting even more high-quality cell phone photography from the mighty T-Mobile G1's 3.2 megapixel camera.

Shot this one in San Francisco right before my face melted off and thought it perfectly captured that millisecond of doubt before the post-apocalypse sets in.

A metaphor for my state of mind these days? Or just another happy Monday?

A Most Mysterious Event Indeed

This morning I got in my car parked on the street in Russian Hill and found a Pizza Hut pizza box inexplicably sitting in the passenger seat. The last time I saw my car, on Sunday night, there was no pizza box in the car and I haven't had pizza, let alone Pizza Hut, in a long time. 

So, like, WTF?? After verifying that my special lady wasn't playing tricks on me, my best bet is that I somehow left my car unlocked and since it was raining last night, some drunk dude on his way home needed a warm dry place to eat his pizza. Lacking the stuff to make it home, he tested car doors until he found mine unlocked. 

So to that guy, you're welcome. And thanks for not stealing my car or anything in it.

Saturdays at the Shooting Range

Me and some homies hit up the Jackson Arms Indoor Shooting Range in South San Francisco on Saturday.

I got my hot little hands on a .44 Magnum so to realize my Clint Eastwood fantasy, but found out moments later that they were out of ammo. Buzzkill. So we tried the .357 only to realize that the cassette was so caked with gun powder residue that the bullets wouldn't slide in flush. So both revolvers were no-goes.

No matter, we got some slugs and a 12 gauge pump action Smith & Wesson shotgun and you can tell from these pictures that the action was pretty hot.

Nothing kicks like a slug and the noise it produces on the first shot was enough to make everyone else in the pistol range crane their necks over to see what the bleep was going on. We all left with bruises on our shoulders. 

That's stock target #12 below, our preferred target of the day, letting you test your skills taking down a unabomber type who's taken a PYT hostage.

 I lit him up, with a couple of game-enders right between the eyes.

A slug is basically a wad of lead the size of a C battery. At shotgun velocity it's simply devastating, particularly to paper targets. 

Obviously, I'm proud of my work.

Odd as it sounds to say, our day at the shooting range was a day of unity and brotherhood. Sure it was an incongruous mix of riff-raff down there: the off-duty 'stars' (read: cop) with his fully automatic assault rifle; the aged Black Panther; the white power militia leader and his unsolicited advice; the Asian gang banger and his girlfriend lighting up targets with her custom snubnose 9mm in 5-inch heels and clubbing pants; but they all belonged. It was the most diverse crowd I've seen in one place since college.

Cheap Gas

Since this summer when gas prices hit over $4.50/gallon, I'd gotten into this pattern of not driving, walking and leaving my car on the streets to collect dust and dents. I know from ancedotes and other market evidence that this has been a good thing in terms of kick-starting our separation from fossil fuel energies. 

So I hope the recent gas prices won't derail the progress we've made as a culture. I recently read that Americans' collective household debt shrunk recently for the first time in history and this too must be a sign of the positive change in thinking and behavior. But man it felt great to buy gas at $1.75/gallon. In five years of car ownership, I've never paid less that I can recall.

Open Table Appetite Stimulus Plan

OpenTable.com's Appetite Stimulus Plan kicks off today with specially-priced pre-fixe dinners and lunches ($35 dinners, $24 lunches) at participating restaurants in Atlanta, Baltimore, Boston, Chicago, Denver, Houston, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, New York, Philadelphia, San Francisco, Seattle and Washington, D.C.

In San Francisco it's a premium list of restaurants. I got my Luce reservation on Friday night already, a restaurant Esquire magazine recently listed among America's Best New Restaurants, and as if that wasn't enough motivation to eat there, OpenTable's offering double rewards points for seatings.

Tim Lincecum is Big News in San Francisco

I had the privelege of seeing Timmy Lincecum pitching in-person in San Francisco 5 times this year. It's funny what a baseball town is even when the Giants are so terrible. Lincecum winning the National League Cy Young is front page news on today's San Francisco Examiner!?!? (Maybe after a tedious and depressing election news cycle, we're ready to concern ourselves with some light-hearted fare.)

Anyway, I'm glad for Tim getting this recognition. He was lights-out in all but one of the games we saw (giving it up to Detroit's Marcus Thames on June 16), but often would miss the win and come out with a no decision thanks to the Giants anemic run support. Given all that his 18-5 record is a campaign worth celebrating. With a better team it could easily have been over 20 wins.

Tom Petty at Outside Lands, San Francisco

In an abstract way...

Tom is the twin golden apparition shimmering to the right and left of the blue stage light explosion. (Well, that's not exactly him, but the dual-jumbo tron digital recreations of Tom, he's actually the smallish orange blur below the stage lights.)

I've been meaning to post more of my stellar, camera-phone art, but the exchange of media from phone to email to computer desktop back to blogger means two things: 1.) I'm not as space-aged as I think am (some kids beam these directly from cellphone to blog); and 2.) most of the time something gets lost in the process.

Anyway, this was a fun show. You have to appreciate a musician who's past the pretension of wanting to convey a deep message or needing to always push people with new material. All Tom Petty did was play every hit song he ever had to an appreciative crowd that sang every lyric from heart.

David Byrne and the Extra Action Marching Band

The amazing encore included San Francisco's very own Extra Action Marching Band!





Caught David Byrne at the San Francisco Davies Symphony hall on Tuesday night and have to say it was a fantastic show. It would be nice to think there's a concert like this going on somewhere in the world every night.

By The Numbers, Dogs vs. Children in San Francisco

Quoting census data from 2006, the San Francisco Examiner reports that 'San Francisco has roughly 110,000 residents under 18' and 'between 120,000 and 150,000 dogs.' The fact was pertinent to a squabble over recently re-sodded grass in a city park, and what constituency base had greater claim to the turf - pet owners or parents.

The humanitarian in me says the parents, but then the dog owner in me needs a spot for my pooch to poop.

Blowing the Breathlayzer

Browsing through my camera-phone to clean out old pictures I'd been storing for too long, I came across this little gem which I originally took at the Oktoberfest event at Fort Mason in San Francisco back in, duh da da da, October.

It was interesting commentary that the California Highway Patrol (CHiPs) booth was second in popularity only to the Spaten dispensers, thanks to the enormous appeal of their risk-free breathalyzer service which lured every jabroni in the place to queue up and test their BAC might.

Two Spaten boots deep, I was blowing a .15%, or roughly twice the legal limit, and not having the mental wherewithal to wonder what the CHiPs were doing with this information with respect to the parking lot of cars that some of these drunks must have driven to the event.