Tag Archives: California

Daily Discussion with BQB – California to Fine and/or Jail Waiters Who Give Out Straws Without Being Asked

Hey 3.5 readers.

Your old pal BQB here.

California, that dopey state full of dopey people (unless you read this blog then I love you and you’re not included) has passed a law, the basic summary of which is if you’re a waiter and you hand out a straw without being asked for one, you could get a fine up to $1000 or 6 months in jail.

Let’s unpack this.  I assume the concern is a) all other problems in California have been solved and the legislature can now put all of its focus into the great straw catastrophe and b) straws are not really a necessity (at least for most people) and therefore if they are passed out only when asked for, there might be a reduction in straw plastic being thrown away.

First, I mean, holy shit, a fine or jail?  Look people.  Jail sucks.  The government shouldn’t be creating new ways to throw people into jail over piddily shit.  Can you imagine the conversation on the cell block?

PRISONER A: Whaddya in for?

PRISONER B: I was the chainsaw maniac serial killer on the news.  I chainsawed 50 people to death.  How about you?

PRISONER A:  I was a mob hitman.  I whacked over a thousand people.  Hey you, what are you in for?

FORMER WAITER TURNED PRISONER C:  I gave a straw to a customer even though he didn’t ask me for one.

PRISONER A: OH MY GOD!

PRISONER B:  You make me sick!

At any rate, prison time should really be reserved for major crimes so I mean, you know locking people up or fining them or putting anything on their criminal record over a straw is crazy.

You might think this won’t be rabidly enforced but I mean, all it takes is for one uppity person to run to the cops and be all like, “He gave me a straw without asking!”  And then what’s that trial going to be like?  Five days of lawyers and witnesses and a judge re-enacting an alleged straw handoff?

Second, paper straws do exist.  I’ve used them and they aren’t that bad.  If plastic straws are that concerning, they could tell restaurants they have to use paper straws.

Third, there has to be a reason why restaurant drinks always come with straws in the first place.  It’s got to be a sanitation thing.  If you have customers just putting their mouth germs on the straw and then the straw is easily flicked into the trash, maybe that lessens the spread of bacteria for say, a dishwasher who would otherwise be handling hundreds of glasses that were drunk directly from all day.

Plus, you’ve got these cups being drank from by tons of people everyday…and they’re being handled by waiters all day…I’m sure the dishwasher probably kills most germs but the straw just adds an extra little layer.  I mean, if there’s serious germs in that cup, will the straw stop it?  Probably not but still.

In theory, I do wonder about all the excess waste that restaurants and especially fast food joints produce.  Every drink you get a plastic cup, a bag or a box your food goes in, you eat for a few minutes then that all goes in the trash but unfortunately I just don’t see another way.

I just think that jail time for a straw infraction is a bit much.  The threat of jail should be used sparingly.  I have a feeling in the next year there are going to be a lot of waiters and waitresses whose disgruntled exes are going to be shouting, “He/she gave me a straw!  An unasked for straw!”

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Movie Review – Baywatch (2017)

Boobs!  So many boobs!  Did I mention the butts?

BQB here with a review of Baywatch.

It seems like every generation has a show that is terrible of terms of plot, yet beloved and watched anyway.  And in the next generation, that show is destined to be parodied and adults who used to love the show will love the parody.

The Brady Bunch, for example, was one of the silliest shows on TV in Uncle Hardass’ day. By the time I was a young man, the show was lampooned in a series of films where the Brady Bunch keep acting like they’re in the 1960s but in modern times.

Add Baywatch to the list of TV shows turned movie parodies.  Honestly, the premise of the original show was so silly that it’s hard to believe that it, in and of itself, was not a parody.  David Hasselhoff of Knight Rider fame used to parade his pecs around a California beach while Pamela Andersen and a bevy of other scantily clad beauties would show off their personal flotation devices.  (Psst!  I’m talking about their knockers!  Awooga!)  Somehow, the lifeguards would end up fighting desperadoes and solving beach related crimes in between rescues.

In this reimagining of the show, The Rock flexes his ridiculously awesome muscles as the new Lt. Mitch Buchannon, leader of the plucky young Baywatch crew.  Zac Efron, also packing some fab abs himself (which I noticed purely in a speculative way and not in a gay way although I’m told there’s nothing wrong with that anymore) is new recruit Brody, a once beloved Olympic swimmer who has since hit the skids after an embarrassing occurrence at the Rio games.

Mitch and Brodie but heads throughout the film.  Brody thinks he’s the best swimmer ever and has nothing else to learn.  Mitch points out that Brody has the swimming part down, but needs to work on teamwork and life saving skills.

Also, to Brody’s surprise, fighting crime.  Yes, as the group’s newcomer, he’s shocked to learn that whenever the lifeguards see crimes they don’t just, you know, call the police.  Instead, with no law enforcement training whatsoever, they take it upon themselves to follow leads, track down suspects, and bring down bad guys themselves.  The running joke of the film is that Brody is the only one who finds this odd.

Additional new recruits include Summer Quinn (Alexandra Daddario) and Ronnie Greenbaum (Jon Bass.)  To the film’s credit, Baywatch, whether in TV form or this version, has always been known for putting the hottest beach bodies on TV.  This time, the crew adds Ronnie the tech nerd, the only lifeguard with a flabby physique that requires him to run through the sand with his shirt still on.  Naturally, he’s the comic relief and butt of many jokes because, you know, a nerd could never be just, really awesome and a super important member of the team but hey, baby steps.  They let a chubby guy get a role in a film for beautiful people so you got to start somewhere.

Meanwhile, Alexandra is hot while Kelly Rohrbach is an epic inducer of boners in her reprisal of Pam Anderson’s CJ Parker role.  Boi-yoi-yoi-yoi-yoing!

Cameos by Pam and Hoff themselves.  Pam’s is somewhat humorous.  Hoff’s is as well, though it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

In fact, little of the film does.  Much of it is slapped together simply so you can enjoy the beautiful beach scenery and all of the hot boobs and butts and wonder where you went so wrong that you didn’t hit the gym more and get your ass out to California while you could have.

Hell, if you’re still breathing maybe it’s not too late.  Start working out now and invest in hair dye.  Also, find Pam’s plastic surgeon.  Sigh.  Do you know I don’t think there was a single man in the 1990s who wasn’t tugging it to the Pamster 24/7?  Ahh, memories, like the corners of my mind…

Did I mention there are a lot of boobs and butts?  There’s also a…uh…well I’ll let you see it for yourself but suffice it to say, there is one scene that I was surprised didn’t earn the film a XXX porno rating.

STATUS:  Split decision.  If you came for humor, action, boobs and butts, it’s an A+.  If you came for something serious, you picked the wrong movie.  Personally, I find it shelf worthy due to the boobs and butts.  FYI none of them are uncovered but you know, close enough.

 

 

 

 

 

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Pop Culture Mysteries: The Wrong Guy – Part 9

Previously on Pop Culture Mysteries…

And now the Pop Culture Mysteries continue…

Myron and I were buried in a divot of crunched steal.  When I hit the roof of a parked tax cab with my back, the whole enchilada just wrapped around us like blanket.

The jump was a risky move, but one that paid off.shutterstock_229113658

My new sidekick was hugging me tighter than a high school senior trying to cop a feel off his prom date on the dance floor.

“Get off me, pervert!”

We jumped out of the wreckage and a number of looky-lous watched us with our tongues hanging out.  I’m not sure what attracted their attention more, the fact that I was walking away from a twelve story fall or the fact that I was waltzing down the street, a shotgun in one hand, a captive’s arm in the other, while a pair of gangsters took pot shots at us from the window.

“We’ve gotta move,”  I said.

“My car,”  Myron said as he pointed to the tiniest piece of crap I’d ever seen.  An electronic automobile.  Little, beige, and looked like it could fit a thousand clowns.

But that day, it only had two.

“This is a car?”  I asked as I forced myself into the passenger seat.

“Excellent gas mileage,”  Myron said.  “Great for the environment.  Barely leaves an eco-footprint.”

Sometimes I wondered why I bothered speaking to anyone.  I only understood half of what anyone had to say to me.

“Where’s Henneman?”  I asked.

“Why do you want to know?”  Myron asked as he sped down the street.  “Why’d you lie to Fernando?  I never cheated anyone named Frank.”

“Your buddy pumped my buddy full of lead.  I want to know why.”

Myron’s face turned grim.

“I’m sorry,”  he said.  “Diego called Craig.  Told him he was going to give have us disemboweled and beaten with our own entrails.”

“Serves you right.”

“Craig flipped out but we’d already spent the money, you know?  So he comes up with this idea, that he’s going to start knocking over stores until he comes up with the money to pay Diego back.”

“Sounds like a real rocket scientist.”

“I told him there was no way you could rob enough stores to come up with ten grand in time Diego would probably just take the money and kill us anyway.”

A barrage of bullets streaked across the compact car’s backside.

I looked in the rear view mirror.  Fernando and Brujo were gaining on us in a pick-up truck.

“Get the lead out junior.”

I tapped on the window in the roof.

“This thing open?”

Myron hit a switch and the glass retracted.  I popped out of the roof, pointed Wanda at the truck, and filled it full of buckshot.

The truck swerved and sideswiped a whole line of parked cars.

I reloaded Wanda, popped out of the roof hatch, and gave the gangsters another helping, this time directing it at one of their front tires.

The truck swerved out and flipped over.  It was a magnificent wreck.

We drove a little longer then I told Myron to stop the car.  He pulled over in front of a donut shop.

“Aw man,”  Myron said.  “That was awesome, the way you wasted those guys.  We’re a good team.”

I pulled out a pair of cuffs, slapping one bracelet around Myron’s wrist and the other around the steering wheel.

Then I grabbed the keys out of the ignition and threw them out the window.

“MAN, WHAT THE EXPLETIVE DELETED?”

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  Myron invoked a derogatory word used for a sexual act.

“Tell me where Craig is.”

Expletive deleted you.”

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  You get the picture.

“I’ll get the keys for you if you tell me.”

“Fine,”  Myron said.  “Sometimes he holes up with his girl, Karen.  She’s a stripper at the Cotton Candy Alligator.   That’s all I know.”

“You got a phone?”

“Yeah.”

I reached into Myron’s pants pocket, grabbed it, and dialed 9-1-1.  Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?

“9-1-1.”

“Uh, yes, hello doll face?  Are you the gal I talked to before?”

“To what call are you referring sir?”

“What are you doing?”  Myron asked.

“Never mind,”  I said to the operator.  “Listen, sweetheart, I need you to report to the coppers that there’s a fella by the name of Myron locked up nice and tight in a real shit box of a car outside Delroy’s Donuts just off of Hollywood Boulevard.”

“I’m sure the officers can find it.”

“Well it’s a donut shop, darling, I’m sure they can, oh and hey listen hon, tell them this twerp’s running some kind of scam out of his apartment.  Bagging up baby powder and selling it to criminals and so forth.”

“I’ll make note of that sir.  What is your name?”

I thought about it.

“Sinatra,”  I said.  “Frank Sinatra.  If you’ll excuse me ma’am, Dino and I have to talk to a couple of showgirls.”

I hanged up and tossed Myron’s phone out the window.

“Real funny, man,”  Myron said.  “OK you got me, haha.  Let me go.”

“Fernando was right,”  I said.  “You are a dumb ass.  You may not have conned One-eyed Frank but I saw your operation back there.  How many scumbags were you going to try to pass off baby powder to?”

“So what?”  Myron said.  “Who cares if a bunch of gang bangers get robbed?”

“Normally I wouldn’t,”  I said.  “But since an innocent man was caught in the crossfire, now I do.  See you on the flip side, Myron.”

“Hey!”

I got out of the car and strolled down the street.

“Hey!  HEY!  YOU CAN’T DO THIS!”

It was time to head on over to the strip club.  Oh, the things I do in the name of justice.

Copyright (c) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015

All Rights Reserved.

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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