BURGER SCOOT

  • Baseball, booze, and sacrifice zones

    IFC’s  Brockmire IFC‘s new comedy Brockmire is the perfect storm of raw comedy, baseball mythology, rust belt economic depression, chronic substance abuse, corporate malfeasance, desperate sex, and–ultimately–redemption. I can’t get enough of it. And considering there are only eight twenty-two minute shows in this first season, it is very frustrating. Hopefully, IFC will increase the number… Read more

  • No surprise here:

    The pathetic and predictable response from U.S. lawmakers and the corporate media to Trump’s Syria airstrike. I wish I were surprised by the number of U.S. lawmakers that supported President Trump’s airstrike on an air base in Syria, but I am not. While I wasn’t surprised that virtually all GOP lawmakers and most of the… Read more

  • The schizophrenic burger joint

    I started this blog as a journal about scooters, scooter culture, and hamburger joints around the Sacramento Area. I have strayed from those subjects, but not completely. I rode by Mango’s Burgertown at on K Street near 19th here in Sacramento often enough. Today I decided to see how it stacks up with other Sacramento… Read more

  • Neo-liberalism: How we got in this mess

    I wouldn’t say “It’s all Reagan’s fault.” Every president since Reagan has embraced the neo-liberal project. Bill Clinton did plenty of damage while he was president embracing the project and betraying the working people of America he was supposed to support–being a Democrat and all. He’s the guy who signed off on the dismantling the… Read more

  • Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play

    via Daily Prompt: Prudent I try to ride my bicycle to work every day. That’s eleven miles of commuting a day. Not much, but I don’t really like to ride on a recreational basis, and I don’t put in many steps in the form of walking my dog or “micro walks” (to quote a FitBit… Read more

  • The Beautiful Word

    “The light in me celebrates the light in you.” The first time I ever heard the word “Namaste” was–fittingly–at the end of my very first yoga class. The teacher said it and the class repeated it back to her. I instantly liked the word. It sounded as if it was the perfect word to say,… Read more