The Sacramento Chronicle

Giant Delta tunnel joins list of ‘loony’ Sacramento projects

HOOD - The sleepy riverfront settlement of Hood, Ca, south of Sacramento, recently found itself on the map as the beginning of an enormous water diversion tunnel to pump Northern California water under the Delta to a agricultural canal serving the central and south state.

Residents may be asking “why us?” But they are not alone. Many communities and individuals are finding themselves victims of ‘kooky’ major infrastructure projects, reports The Center for Reason and Accountable Zoning Yearly, a California non-profit watchdog group and publication.

“The truth is, idiocy in design and lunacy in construction pose a real threat not only to Sacramentans sensibilities, but to their safety,” says Terry Pintowski, spokeswoman of the center. “Had we not intervened, Sacramento would be home to the All-soiled Broken Glass Family Center or a government multi-use building made entirely of cotton swabs.”

Pintowski said her yearly publication covers the ‘worst of the worst’ in ‘way-out’ designs and proposals. “This water tunnel will certainly be on the list, especially since early designs had it slated to be a water park and rotating movie theater/restaurant.

“While the update is scaled back, this project still borders on cuckoo-crazy.”

Pintowski says her group pushes for resident rights and property values.

“How would you feel, as a homeowner, if someone wanted to build a dinosaur-fighting arena and bar next to your residence? Don’t laugh - it nearly happened.”

She explained that in 1995 a mysterious British CEO brought forth a plan very similar to that described above for the residential community of Carmichael. When residents opposed, the man scoffed, saying the project was safe, and that the dinosaurs weren’t ‘really that big at all.’ Members of CRAZY threatened legal action and the project was scrapped.

Other ‘loony’ projects of note include a ‘Build-a-gun’ workshop in Rancho Cordova, The World’s Largest Bidet and Civil Rights Museum downtown, a mermaid bar (featuring wild harbor seals in bikini tops and sequins as servers) in Natomas, a faux-freeway constructed in midtown to attract the film ‘Sense and Sensibility’ to shoot their stunts in the area (council members believed it to be a high-octane romantic comedy at the time), and a large-scale geodesic dome made of scrap metal and razor wire and loaded with melee weapons featuring the theme of ‘two man entering, one leaving,’ in Rocklin.

“What we’re doing isn’t rocket science,” said Pinktowski, perhaps citing the city’s defunct attempt to have a space shuttle launch site at the Sacramento Community Center, “we’re only interested in protecting the citizens of this area from unadulterated hubris coupled with ideas bordering on comic-book supervillany.”

Still, Pinktowski says they haven’t been entirely successful.

“You’ve seen the 60 foot bronze ‘memorial’ statue of Cedric the Entertainer from the freeway, I suppose,” said Pintowski.

Dining and whining: Getting my fill from Sacramento’s buffet circuit

Greetings, greetings, Sacramento foodists! I have missed you in my absence from your eyes and minds. Yes, I, Mr. Fleck Whineman, have taken a two-week vacation for some much-needed soul searching and a delightful visit from Mother. However now I return, like a hungry phoenix, to grace your minds-appetite with the fineries of dining here in this, the wonderful city of trees! Ha, ha!

Reader, do you ever experience a powerful hunger? I arose on The First of this fine winter month with what I refer to as a ‘hunger red-alert.’ I had skipped my normal 11:30 p.m. meal and I was in dire need of sustenance for my stomach. As I stepped outside into the wonderfully foggy and crisp Sacramento morning, my body and mind begged to come along as well! Ha, ha!

I jauntily hopped into my conveyance and drove with a window down, to allow my nose to do what it does best: scout out deliciousness wherever it may hide. I knew today would be something special. The aura of the morn’ was leading me to the fine feast of kings, attainable to the common man: the buffet.

Did you know, reader, that the buffet dates from times of Scandinavian antiquity? The Smorgasbord was a table-sized meal for many, with stunning variety of delectable items for the hungry Swede. In modernity, the buffet has become an American tradition, popularized by the notion of ‘All one can eat.’ We shall test that today, reader, yes?

Dismaying as it is, Sacramento has no dedicated breakfast buffet. Never fear, though, reader, for I have a solution — join me at The Pancake Circus and simply order as many entrees as you desire! Each will come piping hot to you, with a topper of the brown liquid of the working man, coffee, as the beverage par choix. I started with a corned-beef hash, and finished with 8 pancakes made ‘Whineman style’ (a small recess in the middle for a scoop of whipped butter!) You read the words of a satisfied diner, friends!

With my hunger subsided for a time, I took the quick drive to downtown Sacramento. Oh, the sights! The sounds of a city alive! By the time I had parked, it was around 12:45 p.m. and I felt a familiar dissonance from my midsection: the specter, hunger, had returned!

Luckily, I was in and around the K Street pedestrian thoroughfare and its crown jewel of dining, The Upper Crust. For a paltry fare of 10 dollars, one may experience the overwhelmingly popular pasto forza: the pizza, in an abundance of one’s choosing. Ask politely at the front desk and the help will kindly make you a pie of your choosing (A tip: order an irregular combination of toppings to have 8 slices of delight to yourself - anyone for anchovies, mayonnaise, and bacon? ha, ha!)

Despite having another meal under my now tighter belt, ha, ha, I was feeling strangely light and airy. The winter wind whipped, yet I remained warm with the solace of a job-well-eaten. I drove happily along as the sun sank into the western sky and the aerie of luminosity, the stars themselves, arose for their cold February watch. And, again, my fair readers, hunger struck. This time, it manifested as a pang, a wont — almost erotically did the message come to my attention. I lusted for food, a predatory urge consumed me (pun intended, ha, ha!)

I found myself quickly pulling into a neon-lit parking lot after seeing an inviting-and-familiar word: Buffet. The China Buffet seemed to exude old-world charm wrapped in the glitz of golden-era Reno: I was in the correct place.

The smell of the sea sunk into my pores as I walked through the door - warm, salty and inviting — the scent of the fisherman’s bedroom after the fight of the catch. I loaded my plate with two plump lobsters and one stick of butter and sat, ready to eat. Then I sampled the delights of the Orient - the Chowed Mein and the Rice-Fry were perfectly seasoned and in convenient steam-tray-sized portions. And dear readers, they even had the cooked leg-portion of that agreeable amphibian, the frog! Needless to say, I remained until the lights had dimmed and the chairs were being placed on tables, and I left almost in haste — if only an establishment this fine could be open 24 hours.

I started home, ready to rest and dream of my day and meals to come. Will you join me, reader, in the wonderful, buttercream-iced culinary dreamscape?

MIDTOWN PARTY CALENDAR HAYYY

YOU KNOW WHERE — Here’s some dumb shit for you and your ugly friends to waste your weekend away with — brought to you by the Sacramento Chronicle and its fine sponsors, including The Egg Yolker and Timmy Larry’s Discount Mismatched Shoe Barn and Restaurant.

Avalon Nightclub, 16th and H Sts.

FRIDAY: Dance to your favorite top-40 hits (incl. NeYo) pumping out of the head bartenders ipod on shuffle while you chill with many, many other people from your suburban neighborhood. Chances you’ll see someone from your high school graduating class is around 63%, so keep a close eye out. (spoiler alert: they’re fatter now)

DRINK SPECIALS: Thimblefulls of vodka for groups of tiny Asian women, $3.50

Azukar, 16th and J Sts.

SATURDAY: Get stabbed in the right bicep after being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Have police question your ‘gang affiliation’ while sitting on the loading step of an ambulance. Get there early so you’ll be drunker and it will hurt less.

DRINK SPECIALS: Drinks appropriated from popular hip hop songs, incl. Gin n’ Juice and Sizzurp, $4

BLUE LAMP, Alhambra and N Sts.

SUNDAY: Dizzy-Dee and the Miller Beach Dub All-Stars present their particular brand of unlistenable, reggae inspired garbage. Spotting ground for whiteman dreadlocks and 45-year-old women with cleavage that looks like the surface of the planet Mercury.

DRINK SPECIALS: Foamy High Life that tastes like a bar rag, $2.50

CLUB 21, 21st and L Sts.

SATURDAY: The smartest DJ’s in town present ‘Letch,’ an 18+ dance night. Special guests include DJ PLYZTHRMX and a gin-and-tonic-soaked t-shirt performance from the ‘Stupid Nude Young Girls of Myspace*” tour. Arrive early, fills up fast (with gross 30-year-olds looking for a piece).

DRINK SPECIALS: Vodka Redbulls with an extra glass so you can feed half to your underage date in the back bathroom, $3

GOLDEN BEAR, 24th and K Sts.

SATURDAY: Come to everyone’s favorite ‘dive’ bar to stand around in a swarming crowd of people you don’t particularly like while a man pretending to be a disc-jockey plays music too loudly in a room where you couldn’t possibly dance.

Outside patio has 2 coveted heaters for huddling around like homeless people.

DRINK SPECIALS: Try the ‘overpriced’ cocktail, $49

OLD IRONSIDES, 10th and S Sts.

SATURDAY: See popular Sacramento local bands, including mediocre punk act Riff-Raffs, smarmy indie-noise group the Missed Connections and out-of-tune garage collective Freaxxxxxx. Come for one band and harshly judge the other two for free! (Program repeats next weekend)

DRINK SPECIALS: Whatever you sneak in

TOWNHOUSE, 21st and P Sts.

FRIDAY: Do the same thing you did on Tuesday but have the ability to sleep off the hangover the next day.

DRINK SPECIALS: Key bump of coke from that guy Sonny in the upstairs restroom stall —$ two bummed Marlboro Menthols.

*Myspace.tz is not affiliated with the once-popular social networking site.

Statewide prisoner release program spawns inmate talent show

FOLSOM — In response to the continuing budget crisis, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger announced Monday that the the cash-strapped Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation would begin releasing certain eligible prisoners with time served. With the abrupt start the program, the state’s correctional facilities are scrambling to determine just who will be released.

“I’ll tell you, it was quite the drama here at the head office for a couple weeks.” said Folsom Prison warden Jerry Dunn. “But we think our solution is both novel and meets the best needs of the state.”

On Saturday morning, inmates woke to find fliers posted around common areas of the prison — reading simply ‘Talent Show — Friday night — early release for best skits.’

The exercise common was alive with activity during afternoon hours Monday, though not with the usual basketball pickup games and weight lifting. Groups of inmates were sitting in tight circles, some gesturing wildly trying to convince others that their idea would work. Others sat quietly, heads down, discussing nuances of performance.

Francisco Cabrero, 23, incarcerated for drug trafficking, described the skit he was planning with 3 other inmates. “I think they’ll like it a lot,” he said. “Vaudeville, Here We Commmmme!” he continued, as he flailed with a flat-brim hat and cane.

Vincent Frazee, 54, convicted of mail fraud and felony DUI, stood in a corner engaging an imaginary audience. “… so I go through the old lady’s bills and it turns out she owes more money to the IRS than *I* do! I mean, what’s the deal with that?” he said, tugging at an imaginary necktie.

Andre Walker, Shaun Smittee, and Rob Little, taking notes while listening to a song on a small boombox, were taking a different approach. “We have a whole synchronized dance routine almost planned out,” said Little. “We started with the song ‘Poker Face’ by Lady Gaga, but now we’re doing Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’ We think it’s more universal.”

Prison officials are praising the program for getting inmates motivated and involved.

“I’ve got to say, many of the inmates are really taking to the idea,” Dunn said. “In fact, some of the rapists and murderers are pretty interested in participating even though they aren’t eligible for the early release.”

“We’ve had such a response we will probably not be able to accommodate everyone,” he continued.

Registered sex offender Henry Donner’s performance is one that didn’t make the cut.

“We just didn’t think his interpretive ‘danse macabre’ to Oingo Boingo’s ‘Little Girls’ was very sensitive to the long line of victims,” Dunn said.

Donner disagreed.

“I don’t know about you, but I think this is all just a popularity contest.”

Roger Duncan, dead at 54, invented popular tattoo trend

RANCHO CORDOVA — Roger Duncan, a man recognized for popularizing the immensely popular lower back tattoo placement known as ‘the tramp stamp’ was found dead in his Rancho Cordova mobile home Monday. He was 54.

The coroner’s office says that no cause of death was immediately apparent, and foul play did not appear to be involved. Duncan lived alone in his single-wide trailer at Fancy Estates Mobile Home Park. His property manager, Sheila Erns, stated “she didn’t hear shit” at the time of his death.

Duncan’s neighbor, Patty Kimmish, said Duncan was a “good guy.” “He was always helpin’ me change the propane bottle on the front, and he even did some work on me for free,” she said, pulling down her blouse to reveal the name “Chuck” written in cursive on her right breast. “I mean, fuck that asshole Chuck now, but still, it was the thought that counts.”

Duncan, a Sacramento native, grew up in the Gardenland area, where he completed the 8th grade. He then joined the U.S. Coast Guard, where he received a dishonorable discharge with time served for exploding a latrine. After some trouble with the law, including petty larceny and mail fraud, he found his calling.

“I was in the clink with Roge, sure,” said longtime friend Scott Walker. “He was always bored, and pissing and moaning, and so I said ‘Why don’t you shut the fuck up and start doing tattoos?’ I guess it stuck.”

Duncan started by inking crude pictures of breasts on fellow cellmates forearms, but truly hit his stride when he was released from prison and started a part-time job at Foaming Dawg Tattoo in Rancho Cordova. There, Walker said, Duncan found his major interest was in tattooing women, stating “sometimes you get to see their tits.”

“He was all about doing women. He was a T&A man, if you know what I mean, heh. That’s what we always used to say about Roge - he liked having sex with women.”

In 1987, Duncan is noted for giving the first lower-back tattoo, featuring the name ‘Candyi’ encircled with vines, to Candyi McCullen, now desceased.

“Once the other girls at the strip club saw that, Roge had steady work for years,” Walker said.

Walker estimated that until his retirement in 2007, Duncan inked around 750-1000 lower backs, of “young sluts, old bitches, and even dumb-ass dudes.” Subjects ranged from “tribals to celtic knots, Japanese characters and, you know, flowers and dolphins and shit.”

While Duncan is generally credited within the tattoo community for creating the trend of the lower-back designs, Walker believes he should recieve more recognition postmortem.

“They should have a statue made to honor this guy!” he said. “I mean, he invented the easy way to tell if a girl is going to put out. That makes him ten times better than that Churchill motherfucker for sure.”

Weekly weekend: Don’t miss these exciting events

The Chronicle’s staff has complied a listing of great events for the whole family in this weekend’s ‘Weekly Weekend’ section. Please check them out! Bring the kids and that .. wife, of yours.

FRIDAY

Midtown

What: Ricky Francisco is going to get all pissed because his girlfriend is talking to this dude at the club and then he’s going to smash his skyy and soda on the ground and going to get kicked out. He will then be crying on the phone with his boy like a little bitch in the alley behind Azukar.

Where: 17th and J Sts.

When: The kickout will be at 11:43, the sprinklers come on at 12:02. Pussy.

Cost: Entry: $5 Jagerbombs, $8.

SATURDAY

Sacramento

What: Bring the whole family and marvel at the Clown Parade! Come see Sacramento’s homeless and SSI recipients take their wacky constitutional from Loaves and Fishes on North B St. back to their hollowed out earthen shelters on the American River. Come later to see what happens when it begins to rain!

Where: 12th and B Sts., Sacramento

When: 11:30 a.m., after the morning feed

Cost: Free (unless you have spare change)

SATURDAY

Citrus Heights

What: Watch as 16-year-old Dana Rewner puts on headphones to ignore her dumb-shit parents who are fighting about stupid money again.

Where: Dana Rewner’s bedroom, 2340 Larkspur Way

When: Probably all fucking day, I don’t know

Cost: One bummed cigarette

SUNDAY

Roseville

What: Your ‘pal’ James McIntyre invites all of you guys to come check out some really good music and some cool discussions about some pretty rad stuff. He really wants you to come, and promises he is ‘with it.’

Where: Mt. Grace Community Multi-purpose building and events center, 1 J.C. Pkwy.

When: 10:00 am sharp! (or whenever you feel like getting there! No worries, guys!)

Cost: Can you put a price on eternal salvation? Juuuust kidding it’s free!

SUNDAY

North Highlands

What: It’s going to take bachelor Rudy Fargus, 37, two to three minutes before he realizes he is idly masturbating to the television news magazine ‘60 Minutes.’ He’ll then get up off of the couch and peer out of his open blinds, afraid someone might have seen. Arrive early so you can see the entire event.

Where: Springview apartments, #304, Watt Ave.

When: 7:16 p.m.

Cost: $2.50 for the light rail ticket.

Stoned teens make daily pilgramage to ice rink

MIDTOWN — Marijuana-enthusiast teenagers Brandon Mitchell, Paul Salvano and Chris Tanglewood are reporting that they have spent the last 3 weeks taking a walk from Salvano’s parents east Sacramento home to the Midtown Ice Rink at 20th and J Sts. with the express purpose of “checking out that thing that makes the ice smooth.”

“So we were just sitting in Skeeter’s (Salvano) mom’s basement chillin’ and then Gooch (Tanglewood) is like, yo, bro, I’m bored.” explains Mitchell from his half-laying position on an over-stuffed sofa. “So then Skeeter’s, like, hey, bro, I heard there’s this ice skating place downtown, and shit! So I was all ‘pack a B’ and then we’ll go scope some ice-babeage.”

Mitchell said that 2.5 hours later the trio was on their way. When they arrived, however, they did not find Sacramentans reveling in a contained winter wonderland but something entirely unexpected.

“Gooch was all, what the FUCK is that thing?” recounted Mitchell. “I was trippin’ balls at the time, so, I saw, like, a bulldozer, you know? But on ice! And the guy was driving it in circles, and it said something hilarious on the front, it was all … um, Zam … shit I don’t remember.”

After briefly consulting with Salvano, Mitchell continued: “Yeah! Zamboni! That’s a funny word. And then I gave Gooch a high five and we were, like, mesmerized by this thing. Then we saw that we were by Luigi’s so we totally got some ‘za, brah! hehehehehehe.”

The next day, the trio found themselves in the same situation. “I think we’ve been, like, every day,” said Tanglewood. “Oh, except that one day it was raining. No… we went that day too, just later.”

The teens cited multiple reasons for their incredibly limited crusade, including “the funny name of the ice-smoothing thing” and “The way the ice gets all shiny when it’s done” and moreover “that pizza place is like, right there!”

Mitchell said he didn’t know how long the daily trips would continue.

“I guess until it’s, like, too hot and the ice melts or something, right?” he said, shrugging.

Awful band at least has matching suits

MIDTOWN — Spectators on Monday reported from the Press Club that “fucking terrible” band Barry and the Legionnaires “has pretty good style, I guess.”

“I mean, I don’t think they brought a guitar tuner to the show,” reports Ricky Sanchez, frequent concert-goer. “The drummer was out of time, the singer couldn’t hit a note to save his life, the bass player seemed like he wasn’t even awake, and all their songs sounded like different variations of ‘Crimson and Clover’ as presented by god-damn idiots. But those suits looked pretty good.”

Others at the venue agreed. Casey McLaughlin, idly smoking a cigarette outside during the show, said “These assholes are like the Rolling Stones, but entirely unlistenable instead of just ‘crap.’ I guess it’s a good thing they planned on wearing the same suit. That at least lends them a bit of credibility. But… you know, not that much.”

Show promoter Wayne Richards confided that while he doesn’t think Barry and the Legionnaires are “a winning combination” he will continue to book them.

“These guys try real hard, and let’s face it, they stink. But they bring audiences night after night. People always seem to stay and watch, even though they sound like a guitar being used to pummel a sick cat.”

“I’m no expert, but I bet it’s those snappy matching suits.”

Dining and whining: Finding my sea-legs at the Mercantile Saloon

Welcome Sacramento food and drink lovers to my inaugural Dining and Whining column! I’ll be your matre’d. Fleck Whineman’s the name, nice to greet you. I’m a 4.5 month native of Sacramento, originally hailing from Bangor, Maine. I recieved my Associate’s degrees in food technology and woodshop at Bangor Community College, so I’m very comfortable as a foodist’s liaison (and still have all my fingers, ha, ha!)

Food is a passion of mine, so much so that I often have four, maybe six complete meals a day. I’ve found the options in this city are simply limitless, from “few’d couture” to “hamburgers du’jour.” I hope we can spend many wonderful years together filling our bellies with the meats and vegetables of our shared cultural harmony. And french fries. Delicious, savory french fries. And possibly a milkshake, dear reader? Ha, ha!

And so our story begins on a dreary Wednesday afternoon. I had just arisen from my second afternoon nap hungry for an afternoon drive. My meandering path through the gridded streets of our city’s fair Mid-town district gave way to a powerful rumble emanating from within my gullet. It was, my gentle reader, a hunger for both a delightful nosh and a powerful bite of community.

I left my trusty steed of 1993 Toyota Tercel hitched in a parking garage and began my dainty saunter. As if on cue, a tempest of a noreaster of a gentle breeze scooted me along westerly until I saw a lively converted Victorian. Attached was a patio filled with the din of the human experience. Ah! Here was a place to whet my appetite and whistle.

Upon stepping through the swinging door of what I learned was the Mercantile Saloon (forgive me, reader, I did know at this point it was a house of libations rather than a 4 star restaurant) I was immediately greeted with the flush of humanity.

Upon exiting the conveniently located restroom (I find it best to ‘clear ones pallate’ before any dining experience) I sat down at the front bar.

“Barkeep,” I barked. “I am a critic for the Sacramento Chronicle. Bring me your finest spirit, combined with your second finest spirit, two packets of Sugar in the Raw, and a cocktail onion. And I would like to see your menu of specials d’nom.”

The spry bartender looked me up and down with a predatory but welcoming glare. “two-fifty, baby.” He finally replied with a Mona Lisa smile. “There’s a snack machine in the corner. And don’t call me barkeep, bitch.” Lo! So alive with the out-pour and muster of the human experience!

While waiting for my beverage I took the time to glance around at the decor. The name suggested a fantasy of a life at sea, and the decor did not disappoint. With porthole style windows and ruddy wood furniture, I felt as if I was delivering kegs of spices for the East India Trading company, I did! Ha, Ha! Brightly colored flags hung from the ceiling, clearly indicating the spirit of light and togetherness that we all share as a people. I felt welcomed.

I received my beverage in a large glass typically reserved for a pint of Mr. Weiser’s famed lager-beers. The beverage was abrim with a green liquid. The barman referred to it as a ‘Nut-Buster,’ and I can only assume this is but one of many fine specials devised by their head mixologist. A sample taste revealed a biting fruit taste with high overtones of artificial watermelon flavoring, and a strong finish of potato-based spirit (what the Kamchatka bear trapper would call ‘wodka’). I must admit, dear reader, I found this beverage to be so invigorating that I might have been accused of a slurp or two at the end, ha, ha!

Shortly after I helped myself to the supply of “Munchies” in the snack machine (Slot E4 for the snack-savvy among us) and I raised a single digit in the air to indicate another beverage. The bartender, as if sensing my gesture with back-turned eyes, turned, raised another finger in response, and slid another virtuous concoction down the bar at me. I responded with a smile and full-scale tip of seventy-five cents.

As I sat on the comfortable stool enjoying my third beverage, the bar awoke with the sound of the working class man. I see, I thought to my inner monologue, this must be the bar of constructors, machine operators, and other true ‘blue collar’ fellows. What luck! I was inserted into a group of mans men, a true confederacy of brothers. Would we be crooning a shanty into the night’s wee hours, overfilled mugs of mead hoisted into the air? My mind’s senses reeled with the possibilities.

Dear reader! I must confess something to you now. After my fourth beverage I seem to have succumbed to a mild amnesia. I recount what I can recall. A Carnival-like setting, with dancing women and flashes of toned skin. The sounds of screeching tracks d’discoteque, played at high volume. True brotherhood, man and man locked arm in arm and waist to waist, celebrating the fruits of their busy day. Unfortunate splashes of wasted beverage from those who had enjoyed ‘one too many.’And much more, though obscured in visage by the banshee of the spirit - the lord of intoxication.

I arose in the early morning not where I imagined myself to be, not in my comfortable guest room at all but prone against a cinder block wall near the main railway, with my tie wrapped about my head in the style of the samurai. I dusted my sleeves and headed home for a deserved morning rest.

What had actually happened will be left to the ages and the times of legend. But I do know that I will return to the fair Merchantile whenever I am in need of a refreshing beverage garnished with the triumph of the male will.

4 enthusiastic thumbs up!

California Tourism Board to launch new campaign

DOWNTOWN - The California Tourism Board has announced they will launch a new ad campaign this spring entitled “California: It’s not all palm trees, surfers, movie stars, homosexuals, and crazy people.”

“I’m from Whittier, and not only am I not a famous actor, I have a wife, lead a stable and sane life, and have never been surfing, period.” said CTB president Jake Forscythe. “With so much attention paid to California, stereotypes are bound to appear. We just want to let the rest of the nation know we are not all longboard-riding, coconut-spewing ‘Marys’ wearing tinfoil hats who are also Brad Pitt.”

The paradigm shift comes after several years of attempts to celebrate the state’s rich diversity. Such campaigns, including ‘California: It snows AND there’s a desert!’ and ‘California: Now featuring Yosemite National Park (the Ansel Adams one)’ were largely overshadowed by national assumption that California consisted of Los Angeles, San Francisco, and the OC.

“What we’re trying to do here,” says Forscythe, “is really focus the public’s attention on what we are not. We are proud of our abundance of gays, wackjobs, Body Glove bros, vapid celebrities, and tropical fauna, but these attributes are really turning off many would-be visitors.”

Forscythe cited a recent study conducted by the CTB where potential travelers were asked why they would or would not visit California on vacation.

While some positives were obvious, including desires to go to the Disneyland Theme Park and to see the ‘Joke Governor’ in person, several respondents replied with pointed vitriol, including “Too many fags,” or “Al Gore is from there and global warming is a lie” and “Way too many gays.”

“In these tough economic times, our one and only goal is to get people to bring their tourism dollars into this state,” continued Forscythe. If we can convince Mr. and Mrs. American that feather-boa wearing Californians aren’t going to kiss their sons on the lips while a surfing, pantsless and LSD-induced Paris Hilton whaps them with palm fronds, well, then we’ve done our job.”

Sidewalk shut down after 18-bro pileup

MIDTOWN - In what one witness called “probably the least sick thing to happen in a long time” at least 15 cruiser bicycles were involved in a chain-reaction collision that clogged the 2400 block of J st’s sidewalk into the early evening Sunday.

“There were flat-brim hats and sandals everywhere, it was SO not cool,” said a young woman, identified only as ‘Cyndi.’ She and other patrons of the popular college hangout The Beach Hut Deli sat sobbing on the converted Victorian’s steps, clearly at a loss to describe how something of this magnitude could happen.

Authorities say details are sketchy at best. Sacramento City Fire Department spokesman Frank Gerber, in a press conference, attempted to develop a time-line. “We know that the Beach Hut provides a discount beverage special on Sunday afternoons. We know that this afternoon was particularly warm and sunny, perfect for activities such as ‘tossin the ‘bee,’ or ‘hittin’ up Paradise Beach.’ While this explains a surge in overall bro volume, we can’t understand what sequence of events would lead to such a horrific accident.”

“I don’t know what went down, brah,” said 6th-year Sac State geography student James Geckert, while tending to a large rip in his cargo-short pocket. “It was like, just a nice ride, y’know, and then all of a sudden I hear some dude say ‘DOLLAR BEERS YO’ and all of a sudden shit’s fucked, dudes are all colliding and I’m on the ground and my bike is, like, trashed,” he said, gesturing to a pile of bent springer forks and mangled balloon-tire fenders. “I just wanted to get my BL on, y’know what I mean, maybe talk to some babes. Hey, do you know those girls over there?”

Inside, Beach Hut Deli worker Lindsay Rohnert told reporters over the ironic strains of the Dave Matthews Band tune ‘Crash Into Me’ additional employees were being called in to help serve the newly-formed and “severely bummed” crowd. “I mean, these bro-hams came to make beer-aymids out of their empties and maybe even play some impromptu pong on the table out back. Who are we to deny them after this terrible tragedy.”