An open door policy
Still laughing at that police blotter story in the Hollister
Fifty Cent Lance.
”
Door is stolen from apartment complex in Hollister.
”
How embarrassing. No, not for the thief but the guy who lives in
the apartment.
An open door policy
Still laughing at that police blotter story in the Hollister Fifty Cent Lance. “Door is stolen from apartment complex in Hollister.” How embarrassing. No, not for the thief but the guy who lives in the apartment. Can you imagine a burglar breaking into your home, goes immediately to your sock drawer where everyone hides their money but finds nothing but Wal Mart irregulars. Then he checks out your hi-fi system, your television and comes to the conclusion that the only thing of any value in your home is your door.
Remember last week I told you about this gentleman’s club in Memphis that advertised 69 cent beer? And have you ever seen a gentleman at a gentleman’s club? I digress. In the next day’s edition of that paper is an ad for a strip club proclaiming in large print “Cheapest Beer in Town, Period, end of story.” 68-cent beer! And still the beer at 68 cents is more expensive than a Watsonville hooker. Aye chee waa waa!
And much thanks to the Pinnacle’s Melissa Flores for writing those great movie reviews. On her not so fuzzy report of “Hot Fuzz” we had a great fun time at a great little theater just yards away from the sound stages where “Gone With The Wind” and “Wizard of Oz” were filmed. Only in Hollywood, a great movie and memories of this magnitude. Hooray for Hollywood!
Confidential to Supervisor Pat Loe. In over 50 years I have yet to be wrong on my Super Bowl predictions even before the pre-season begins. The Chicago Bears will win in the playoffs, go to the Super Bowl and unlike last year the team will actually show up.
Sorry to hear abut David Hasselhoff’s drinking problem. When I owned a little bookstore in San Francisco near the theatre district, David was so nice to a group of kids in front of my store. He took the time to shake each of their hands and sign autographs as though he had nothing more important to do. Some people just can’t handle booze and I would hope they would stay away from it leaving more for us professionals who know when to stop drinking. When you fall off the barstool.
Last week I mentioned the great Greyhound Service we had in the 1950s when it was stationed at the Ding A Ling restaurant then on Fourth near Hollister’s main drag queen.
I was born in San Juan Bautista and when I moved to Hollister I still got to see my San Juan Bautista friends as they would take the Greyhound and get off at Foster’s Old Fashioned Frostee Freeze on Fourth and Line and walk the block to my house. We’d play cowboys and Indians. What? You think I, of all people, am being politically incorrect? Not so as Punjab Jr. was an India Indian. Punjab Sr. owned the Ten-Eleven store long before he decided to extend the hours to 7–11.
After playing, mom would make us tacos and then we would walk uptown to the outdoor box office and plunk down our 14 cents and enter the grand old Art Deco State Theatre for an afternoon of action packed double features, news, short, cartoons, previews of coming attractions and breath taking cliff hanging serial.
After the movie we would walk to the Ding A Ling and get Hires Root Beer for a nickel, which was much cheaper than the movie price for a very, very small cup of Coke. We would wait a little bit for the bus and my friends would be off to their Mission City homes and the 10-11 store.
The Ding A Ling and Greyhound bring back many fond memories but none more funny than when even before the song I saw a local merchant put his semi-beautiful wife on the bus with all the hugs and required kisses as she went off to visit relatives in San Francisco. As the bus left he muttered “Thank God” and the Greyhound agent without hesitation said, “Thank God and Greyhound she’s gone.”
Finally: Free Paris Hilton! I haven’t marched this hard since my army days on Okinawa. After the Save Paris march I was sweating harder than Rosie O’Donnell putting on her panty hose.
