Sketchish

This has been my best Sketchfest experience yet, in large part because I've done more events than in previous years. The last weekend rounded out with two very different programs: Army of Darkness and Celebrity Autobiography.

Army of Darkness was held at the Castro Theatre. This is an awesome movie theatre of the old-school design: it seats over 1400 people, and is absolutely gorgeous, with ornate walls, an elaborate ceiling with a grand chandelier, and a Wurlitzer organ that ascends before the program to play for our amusement. Even with the big capacity, the event sold out more than a week before the program.

The main feature was a conversation between Bruce Campbell, the star of Army of Darkness and the best B-movie actor of his generation, and possibly of all time; and Patton Oswalt, noted comedian. Patton revealed that he first heard of Bruce Campbell in a Fangoria review of Bruce and Sam Raimi's first movie, Evil Dead. He immediately went to the video store to rent the movie, and was transfixed by what he saw. It was the most terrifying movie that he'd seen in his life, but he kept thinking, "Who is this handsome, handsome man, covered in blood and screaming?" Fast forward thirty years, and Patton landed a recurring role on Burn Notice, a cable drama co-starring Campbell. Patton had to overcome his horror-fanboyish-mode, so he asked if he could see Bruce. He went into the trailer, and thought "Who is this handsome, handsome man... covered in blood and screaming?"

Bruce wore an incredible white suit. Patton "was dressed like Bruce's groundskeeper," to use his own words. They sat on two chairs in front of the screen: Bruce would frequently spring to his feet and stride forward to directly address the audience, perhaps gesticulating as he made his point. Patton lounged insouciantly in his own chair; he was technically interviewing Bruce, but there was a lot of back-and-forth, and Patton seemed largely content to sit back and let Bruce continue when he got going on one of his rants.

Their interplay was really fun. Bruce had a much more acidic wit than I had expected, which was hilarious: he described all the awful aspects of making the movies, the ignominies of life on the road, the unsettlingly banal conversations one enters whilst attending a fan convention. I felt like he was probably playing a character, a sort of parody of himself, but that he also had a deep well of material to draw on. He unabashedly preferred interacting with the female members of the audience, cheerfully insulted everyone, and insulted himself as well. Patton would drop in with periodic quips or one-liners or insults of his own, or would run from the set in tears when Bruce said something hurtful. "Payton," Bruce said. "It's... Patton" Patton whispered, before arising and fleeing the scene of his embarrassment. Seizing the opportunity, Bruce jumped over into Patton's vacated seat, adopted his lounging pose, and did a brief but hilarious impression of Patton's horror-nerd interviewing style.

Patton described how incredible it had been to watch Evil Dead 2: "So you basically took the original movie, which is arguably the darkest, scariest movie of all time... and you made a parody of your own movie as the sequel. I don't think that's ever been done before!" Bruce leaped on that, ranting about the inanity of the situation: Crimewave had bombed ("Nobody here saw it!"), and so they had to do Evil Dead 2 to make money. But they couldn't get the rights to the footage from their own movie, so they had to re-shoot the flashback scenes. And on and on. I actually found this incredibly informative, just because Evil Dead 2 is such a confusing movie to watch: it starts off seeming like a sequel to Evil Dead 1, but at parts feels like a remake instead, and obviously the tone is very different.

After maybe a half-hour or so of conversation, they took questions from the audience. First, they asked if anyone had a cool Evil Dead tattoo to show. A pretty woman (of course!) came up to show off hers, a skull on her upper arm. "How much long did that take?" asked Bruce. "Eight hours," she said. "And how much did it cost?" "Five hundred dollars." The crowd gasped, then applauded. Bruce dug in his pockets, and pulled out a bill. "Here: that's such a great tattoo, I want to pay back one percent of what it cost you." She hugged him, and descended "the dangerous, OSHA-condemned stairs". Patton stage-whispered, "And, if anyone had a tattoo of a cake, I might have a Ben Franklin for you."

Someone yelled out something about Karo syrup, prompting Bruce to go on yet another entertaining rant about how awful the filming of Evil Dead was. He described how, after a night of shooting on location, he wasn't able to take off his costume because the caked syrup had bonded it to his skin. So, he had to sit in the back of a pickup truck while Sam and the rest of the crew drove back into town. Of course, it was Sunday morning, so the people coming out of church stopped and stared at this bloody, wounded, ghastly horror of a man coming through their streets. When he got back to the hotel, he stepped into the warm shower with all his clothes still on to try and soften the syrup so he could change his clothes without ripping his skin open. So, yeah... thanks for bringing up such great memories!

At one point, Patton asked, "Have there ever been moments when you've had to do something in a film, and you know that it's going to suck while you're shooting - it'll be painful, or difficult, or whatever - but you know that it's going to be awesome in the final movie?" Bruce responding, ".... yes, in, like, every movie I've ever done." He explained that the movies that are hard to make are the ones that end up being incredible. "And, when you're able to relax on the set and joke around with your friend Patton, well, you probably aren't making something wonderful that will keep people excited for years."

There were tons of other anecdotes and stuff that came up... Sam Raimi's car, the forward to "If Chins Could Kill," the un-sexiness of chainsaw hands, the tiny fraction of money that Bruce makes as a producer of Evil Dead ("If you see that movie a thousand times, I'll make twenty cents"), the difference between a cult movie and a mainstream movie ("A mainstream movie, fifty thousand people see once; a cult movie, one person watches fifty thousand times"), doing effects in pre-ILM days, the tiny (but growing) number of women at horror conventions, the relative attractiveness of various females in the audience, and on and on. At last, they said their goodbyes, dropped the lights, and brought up the movie.

Oh! I almost forgot: before Patton or Bruce arrived, the theater showed the new red-band trailer for the remake of The Evil Dead. (Hyperlinks deliberately omitted.) I have to confess that I couldn't watch it, and did the think where my head faced the screen but my eyes look down. I'm actually pretty ambivalent about horror movies in general... some of the best movies I've ever seen have been horror movies (The Shining, Psycho, The Haunting, Silence of the Lambs, Dawn of the Dead, The Orphanage), but I have absolutely zero interest in slasher films, or torture porn, or 95% of the other horror movies that come out. (Which is part of why I love stuff like Tim Brayton's Summer of Blood, which lets me learn about horror movies in an entertaining way without needing to actually watch them.)

So... yeah. Army of Darkness itself was really fun. I don't think I've seen the movie for nearly a decade, but I could remember every single fight scene, every single one-liner (and, heck the movie is basically a nonstop string of one-liners). Army of Darkness is my favorite of the trilogy: I don't want to ever see the original Evil Dead again, I would be willing to watch Evil Dead 2 if viewing with others, and I would be glad to keep watching Army of Darkness. While the original Evil Dead was pure horror, and Evil Dead 2 primarily a horror movie with a surprisingly strong comedy component, Army of Darkness feels primarily like an adventure movie, sort of a swords-and-sorcery mini-epic, with minor elements of horror and comedy tossed in.

What was really fun, though, was seeing it in this sort of environment, with over a thousand other hard-core fans of the movie. There wasn't a lot of audience participation - this isn't something like Rocky Horror Picture Show - but everyone knew the movie, everyone knew its beats, and seemed positively giddy at enjoying it with other people, laughing and cheering at all the appropriate parts. (It was particularly fun to see the scene where Big Ash was chasing Little Ash; early in the program, Bruce brought up a "large-breasted" woman from the audience to act out the shooting of this scene, which Sam Raimi had insisted he perform backwards.)

So, that was awesome! I hadn't had any idea what to expect, and was very happy with how it went.

Next, Sunday night was the finale of Sketchfest. We got a large group together to see Celebrity Autobiography. This is a program that's been running for about a decade; it has shown in LA, and on Broadway, and they've done a movie of it. During that time, the material regularly changes and the cast rotates frequently based on who's available. For the San Francisco show, they had a wonderful lineup of female comedians, including Rachel Dratch, Janeane Garofalo, Maria Bamford, and Laraine Newman. They were scheduled to have Fred Willard as well, but unfortunately he'd had to fly back to Los Angeles earlier in the day; they got a replacement who did an incredibly impressive job, especially considering that he probably had had very little time to prepare.

Oh, yeah: the concept behind the show is simple, brilliant, and hilarious: funny comedians read from the autobiographies written by celebrities (or their publicists). We heard dozens, including people like Miley Cyrus, Britney Spears, Ivana Trump, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Nancy Reagan, and Mr. T. In the early part of the program, a single person would read a large chunk of an autobiography: my favorite was probably Rachel Dratch who did an amazing job with Ethel Merman's autobiography.

Everything was great, and I was impressed at how differently each person approached the same concept. It seemed like the SNL alums were particularly good at doing impressions: Dratch's Merman used dramatic gestures and her distinctive speaking cadences to totally sell you on the character; Newman's Cher was a dead-on impersonation of her voice (and the hair worked well, too!). Other times, they would just let the material work for itself. When Janeane Garofalo read from Britney Spear's "Crossroads" diary, she didn't try to imitate Britney's voice, but delivered it with the perky vacuousness we connect with her. And, more so than other performers, Janeane enjoyed giving little cues that showed when it was okay to mock the subject.

Similarly, sometimes comedy was made by fully inhabiting and enhancing the absolutely bonkers nature of the material: Miley Cyrus writing about getting her period while she wasn't carrying any tampons, or football player "The Boz" writing about how much he enjoys inflicting pain on other people. ("It isn't that I want to mess up someone's knee or something like that. I would never want that to happen. I just want to hit them so hard that, when they're back in the huddle, they don't know what city they're in any more.") Other times, they used intonation to create new meaning from the text, or even invert it. A selection of passages from Tiger Woods that's talking about putting becomes something extremely dirty when matched with a certain reading style and our new knowledge of his marital infidelity. And the Cher passages are meant to talk about the joys of eating well, but Newman brilliantly undercuts the end of each sentence, making it sound as though Cher is resignedly, halfheartedly trying to convince herself about how delicious vegetables can be.

After the single-reader performances were over, they moved to the celebrity mashups. These were organized by theme: sport (Schwarzenegger, Woods, Boz, etc.); Mother's Day (Nancy Reagan, Ivana Trump, Kardashian, etc.); living well (Cher, Gwyneth Paltrow, Celine Dion [Maria Bamford with an awesome French accent], etc.); catching your first big break in acting (Mr. T, George Takei, Beyonce, Elaine Page, etc.).

The finale was a tour-de-force that described the same story as seen from three separate autobiographies: the tale of the Richard Burton / Elizabeth Taylor love triangle. They gave it the phenomenal title "Rashomon and On and On." This was incredible: it has all the funny elements of the other Celebrity Autobiography projects, but the concept of revisiting the same story from multiple (highly flawed and skewed!) perspectives felt very fresh, and they put a lot of work into the staging of this. Most of the rest of the show had the actors at their microphones; there was much more movement here, with people receding to the background or walking to the foreground (or, in Richard Burton's case, staggering forward). Pretty much everyone was involved in this, too: I initially thought that Janeane wasn't in it, but at a couple of points she would dart onto the stage, deliver a brief piece of dialog from a random character ("Say, Debbie doesn't know, does she?"), then leap back off again.

It was wonderful. The crowd loved it!

The show was excellent. The actors were all wonderful, across the board. If I had to pick one favorite, it would probably be Rachel Dratch: she did such a good job, and could bring so much to the performance with even little things like a sudden dart of her eyes or a perfectly placed pause. Plus the incongruity of watching this tiny woman read the words of Mr. T was wonderful.

So, that was Sketchfest 2013! I can't wait to see what next year brings us!

"Bleagh! I Think that Piano Has a Ghost!"

Sketchfest is in full swing! It always feels like an embarrassment of riches - the sheer number of talented people performing in a limited span of time can feel overwhelming, and I usually end up just picking one or two shows to attend. This year, I plan to make it out to more, and so far, it's been off to a fantastic start.

Thanks to the largesse of my wonderful sister, I scored a ticket to Paul F Tompkins and Friends Real and Fake. Paul might be my favorite comedian - his stand-up is good, but more than that, he works in an amazing variety of modes, including raconteur, character, performer, and pal. If I were to meet someone like Patton Oswalt or Louis CK, I would be delighted but incredibly nervous, worried that I would inadvertently do something (like say "hilarious") that they could seize on and expose as foolish. I'm sure I would be star-struck if I ever met Paul one-on-one, but his style of humor is one of the warmest, most positive (yet still funny and occasionally revelatory!) that I've heard.

That warmth was on fine display at his show on Friday night. At previous Sketchfests I had attended the Paul F Tompkins Show, a wonderful vaudeville-type extravaganza. This one was quite different, with no music or sketches. Instead, it had a series of stand-up performances, interspersed by Paul's characters. I had seen all of Paul's "real friends" previously in sketch shows, but it was the first time I'd seen any of them do standup, and all of them were terrific, using very unique perspectives to make us laugh.

I'm going to refrain from sharing my favorite moments from the standup, mostly because I suspect they will be touring with the material, and some of it may eventually end up in some special or other, and there's no earthly way my typing words into a blog could match the effectiveness of their delivery. I'll confine myself to some general reactions, and recalling moments from the show that seem unlikely to be repeated in the future.

First, to run down the real friends: I only know Steve Agee from The Sarah Silverman Program, where he played Brian Posehn's stoner boyfriend. Much of his set involved telling stories from his past, and either extrapolating from them or imagining unseen aspects to the tales. Mary Lynn Rajskub looked stunning; I've only seen her in Mr. Show with Bob and David, but apparently she has done some major television and film work as well. Her comedy focused on introspection, and had some wonderful moments where a totally unexpected "fact" arrived from left field. Finally, Kevin McDonald from The Kids in the Hall did a set anchored around the idea that he, as a sketch comedian, had no business doing stand-up. This was the most meta of the sets, and Kevin masterfully interwove his standup with commentary on him doing standup.

Paul may be the most gifted riffer in the business, and at the start of the show, he opened with several minutes off the cuff purely about the surroundings. This is the first year that the Verdi Club has hosted Sketchfest shows, and this was the first show held at Verdi. It's a pretty cool venue - the room is fairly intimate (capacity 299 people), so everyone is close to the stage; the floor is level, but the stage is elevated, so everyone has good sightlines. There's also a well-stocked full bar. Anyways, Paul came out after being introduced by a Sketchfest founder, and immediately started some business with the microphone, whose cord had been looped around the stand. Um... I'm going to get this wrong, but his opening went something like this, with lots of laughter from the audience interspersed:

"Ah, good - three microphones. I'm so glad that the Verdi Club was able to accommodate my request: I said, 'I require no fewer than three mikes! And, if you could make sure that one of the microphones isn't plugged into anything, that would be great.' Actually, I remember now that I specifically asked for a cordless mike, which makes me feel foolish. Great job, Paul! Way to start off the show! Idiot. But I am grateful that Verdi could fulfill so many of the things I require for my show. I said, 'I'll need some chandeliers from the movie Logan's Run.' They said, 'No problem, we got you covered.' I said, 'Please make sure to have a depressing bar stool from [some era or movie? I forget...]' They said, 'We can get that for you.' I said, 'You're really going to hate me for this... but is there any way you can get a haunted piano?' 'Poltergeist or ghost?' they replied."

Needless to say, all of this was just responding to things in the room, things that I had totally missed during the half-hour that I'd been sitting and waiting for the show to start. Those comedians, always ready with their observations and their jokes!

A lot of Paul's comedy is based around anecdotes and telling stories, so after his intro most of his set was about an incident that occurred at Christmas. Hopefully you'll get to hear it! For the rest of the night, he did his characters. If you haven't had the pleasure of experiencing these before, you can get a taste on YouTube, but most of the "mythology" around them has accreted over years of appearances on podcasts like Comedy Bang-Bang and The Pod F Tompkast. His characters are based on real people, but they aren't really impersonations in the standard comedic vein. Instead, he takes only the most basic facts about the person (Werner Herzog is is a German film director who made a movie about a man getting eaten by a bear; Ice-T is a rapper who acts on the show CSI: Miami), then extrapolates goofy premises (Werner Herzog is obsessed with the awfulness of nature and wants to fight it; Ice-T is obsessed with creating new business ventures). The most impressing thing is the canon - while Tompkins inhabits a character, he is constantly making stuff up in response to questions or statements from other people on the podcast, and these become established "facts" for all future appearances. Over time, this makes the characters evolve into hilarious personalities that are barely unrecognizable (Werner Herzog married a beautiful robot who he fashioned from the parts of a zeppelin).

Paul performed as probably my three favorite characters of his: Dame Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, Garry Marshall, and The Cake Boss (cakeboss!). He had basic but effective costumes for each: a fabulous cape as Lloyd Webber, a white wig for Marshall, and a black wig and white chef's jacket for Buddy Valastro. Tompkins did a great job of setting up each character so newcomers wouldn't be totally lost, while also not feeling like he was just retreading old material for the hard-core fans. For example, he re-told the story about how he was bitten by a cake bug, as he usually does as that character; but he also discoursed for a little bit on why cake bugs occupy cake kitchens and the role they play in keeping predators under control.

As Lloyd Webber, he reviewed his musical oeuvre and laid out his plan to compete against the awful "juking-box" musicals of the day. Garry Marshall provided some insights into his hit sitcoms of the past, and gave a very long and entertaining description of how he's going to find Bigfoot, and what he'll do once he captures it. My favorite set of the night was the last one, though. After the Cake Boss (cakeboss!) described the horrible time constraints he has to work under and explained how he received the curse of the second sight, he offered to go into a trance (er, "tranche") and answer any questions about the future we might have. This was incredibly impressive - I'm always amazed at seeing great comedians thinking on their feet and responding to something unexpected.

Paul selected someone, who asked, "Who's going to win the Super Bowl?" (In case you don't follow football, San Francisco is going to the Super Bowl next weekend, to play against the Baltimore Ravens, so it's a question high on the mind of many residents here.) Tompkins good-naturedly mocked the question for a while - "That's a real important question right there! I mean, out of all the things in the entire future that you could possibly want to find out about... well, okay, sure, we'll find out who wins a sports game. Good forbid you should have to wait a week to find out." He went into his tranche, then moved "All the way into the future... parting the curtains... all the way to two weeks from now.. it's so far! I don't know if I can make it!" He then described the scene: "I see a stadium, filled with people! They are tossing the coin... the coin is flipped, and they're ready to... do the first football thing... then... oh, no! Suddenly, the ground falls out from below the field! It's Bane! He's at the stadium! That's right, he's crossed over from Batman into our own world! It's a Purple Rose of Cairo type of thing. A woman was watching The Dark Knight Rises and fell in love with him, so now he's here. And, that's it! The game is called on account of Bane. And this gentleman here made a lot of money on the game. That's right, he bet on Bane winning the Super Bowl... and the odds were very long! So he did quite well. Okay, does anyone else have any other questions?"

While still in his tranche, he selected a young woman who asked, "Will Garry Marshall ever find Bigfoot?" He cracked up a little before replying, "That's a bit of a callback there. Okay, let me check." He described Garry Marshall, in a far-away, distant land, coming across a tall, mysterious shape. [I forget exactly how the next part of the story unfolded - I think that it turns out to be the actor who played Bigfoot, and Bigfoot, standing on each others' shoulders, or something.] "And then... oh, no! It's Bane again! He's here too! He kills Garry Marshall and takes Bigfoot for himself! And that gentleman from before makes even more money by betting on this. It's off the main book, too... the odds of Bane finding Bigfoot were four thousand to one. He really cleans up. Okay, final question!"

Another woman asked, "Who will be our next president?" "That's a... okay, that's a pretty good question, I guess. It does affect your life, so whatever. All right, I'm - hold on, before I proceed, a follow-up question: the president of the United States?" Yes. "Okay, just checking. I'm moving through the future again... all the way to 2016... oh, wait, now I'm going back to 2015 when the people are actually running. Okay. I see that the Democrats will nominate... Hillary Clinton. She's good, she's doing well. She's done something with her hair that I approve of. And the Republicans nominate... a bag of angry worms. The bag of angry worms is making some progress, it has a few good points. Okay, now I'm at the first major debate. Hillary is winning the debate. The bag of worms is doing well for a bag, but c'mon, a bag of angry worms can only do so much. Oh, no! It's Bane again! That gentleman made even more money by betting on Bane in the 2016 election, he wasn't even a candidate. But he ends up winning. So, that's it. Bane is the next President."

The show ended with gales of nonstop laughter, pretty much starting from the introduction of the bag of angry worms until well after Paul had left the stage. It was, needless to say, a fantastic show!

Fast-forward a day to the next event: the Thrilling Adventure Hour! I've actually only recently gotten into this - I contributed to their recent Kickstarter project, then started listening through their voluminous archives. This is a live show that's been playing in Los Angeles for nearly eight years. Every single month, they were a completely new script and put on a single show. It's done in the style of an old-timey radio serial, like The Shadow or Buck Rogers; if you listen to A Prairie Home Companion, it's a bit like a hipper version of the radio sketches they do on that show. The show is anchored by two recurring segments: Sparks Nevada: Marshal on Mars, about a literal space cowboy (a man from Earth who comes to Mars, rides his horse, tangles with outlaws and ruffians and whatnot); and Beyond Belief, with Paul F Tompkins and Paget Brewster as Frank and Sadie Doyle, a psychic married couple constantly confronted with paranormal mysteries who just want to be left alone and drink with one another. In between they feature a rotating assortment of other programs, commercials, and the occasional song.

The TAH is a surprisingly dynamic program, with a steady core of performers playing multiple roles, but a constantly rotating slate of guest stars, from the world of comedy but also featuring many "straight" actors known mostly for their dramatic roles. Their cast at Sketchfest is always impressive, and this year did not disappoint: Reggie Watts, Jonathan Coulton, John Hodgman, Colin Hanks, Gillian Jacobs, Rider Strong, Steve Agee (remember him?), Keegan-Michael Key, and an uncredited but excellent Kevin Murphy and Bill Corbett.

This was my first time seeing TAH live, and I was really looking forward to it. I enjoy listening to the podcasts of their LA shows, and one thing I notice is that, in every program, the boisterous audience will respond well to the jokes and such within the script, but there will also be moments when they crack up at something physical happening on the stage. Of course, this is completely lost in the audio-only version everyone else consumes it in, and I really wanted to catch a glimpse of that sort of business. I wasn't disappointed - sometimes it's as simple as Paul F Tompkins scowling at the audience, other times it's an inspired bit of blocking.

I'm pretty sure that these programs will enter the podcast stream soon, so I'll avoid spoilers. Instead, here's a random list of personal favorite moments from the show:

• Kevin Murphy's talented instrumentation.
• Paul F Tompkins as the King of Coffee, doing one of the very best types of characters he does.
• ... and the way he exited the stage from these segments, constantly glowering at the audience, never turning his back.
• The very rich songs, nearly all done in chorus, most of which Jonathan Coulton joined.
• Keegan-Michael Key's incredible character of a nazi from the future.
• Rider Strong's animated performance opposite Marc Evan Jackson.
• Reggie Watts as a hangdog minion.
• All of the wonderful ladies - the sunny Annie Savage, the impassioned Gillian Jacobs, the magnetic Autumn Reeser. (And the terrific harmony they sang at the end.)
• Seeing Amelia Earhart fly her plane.
• I like to think that I was the first person in the audience to realize which Shakespearean play was being parodied in the final WorkJuice commercial.
• Beyond Belief doing a rare call-back to a previous episode, which happens to be one of my all-time favorites.
• Seeing the Bens (or at least one of them) pop onto the stage and wave at the very end.

 It was an incredible show, and left me kind of wishing that I had tickets to the 9:30 as well. Apparently, they're keeping the serialization of Sparks Nevada between both shows that night, which is amazing.

The entire experience was fun and strange; it's reminiscent of a lot of different types of entertainment, while not being like any thing I'm used to. There's frequent laughter like you would expect from a live sketch or stand-up show; but what kind of entertainment these days inspires frequent applause? I guess it's a little like watching a play or musical, but instead of holding your reaction to the end of an act, it spills over at opportune times, like an actor entering or exiting. In terms of interactivity, it might be closest to something like a special screening of a favorite movie; but you have the drama and malleability of a live performance. Well. It's a unique, fun, funny experience, and hopefully one I'll get to see next year as well!

Peter G. Timkins

The January Of Doing Funny Stuff concluded with a great day in The City, followed by my first-ever viewing of the Paul F. Tompkins Show, during my first-ever visit to the San Francisco outpost of Yoshi's, a jazz club and sushi restaurant.

It was a gorgeous day, so I decided to head up early and enjoy all of it. For me, "enjoying" is usually synonymous with "walking around in". I caught BART up to 16th and Mission, and cut directly west along 16th. I'd consulted a recently-gifted book called "Stairway Walks in San Francisco", and followed its suggested route in my approach towards and through Corona Heights. I feel like I keep saying this, but I think that the views from the top of Corona Heights might be the best you can get of eastern San Francisco. It helps that it was a perfectly clear day, and the Bay was a gorgeous shade of blue. You're much closer to downtown here than in my previous favorite spots, like Twin Peaks, and so you can appreciate a finer level of detail, including clear looks at individual cars and trolleys and streetcars moving around. You have complete, unobstructed views of The Mission, SOMA, and the Castro, along with the western face of Potrero Hill, most of the Financial District and the northeastern hills, and the southeastern quadrant of the city. Plus, there's an amazing full-on look at downtown Oakland; from this perspective, Mount Diablo rises directly behind the skyscrapers there, which is a very cool effect.

Totally jazzed, I continued along the stairways, then broke off to cross over to Buena Vista Park. This is several times larger than Corona Heights. It's also a lot more wooded, and has more paths, which generally run in concentric rings with some stairways (yay!) running more or less straight up. More awesome views could be found from the top here; the trees meant more obstructions than Corona, but from certain spots you could catch the Golden Gate Bridge and the Presidio.  As an extra-special bonus, a bunch of friendly dogs were frolicking around on top of the hill; some of them demanded to be petted, which I gladly obliged. Good doggies!

I worked my way down the north side of Buena Vista, crossed Haight, and over to the Panhandle. Being such a great day, folks were out in full force along the paths here, running, cycling, and walking like me. I went through a long loop, east to the end and then back west, before crossing over into the main part of Golden Gate Park.

I've visited GGP many times before, and I doubt I'll ever get tired of it. Not only is it huge with tons to see, but it's also regularly changing and improving. On this trip, I made my first-ever visit to the Conservancy of Flowers; I didn't make it inside, but even outside there's a gorgeous collection of flower beds. Since this was Sunday, JFK Drive was closed to auto traffic, and huge numbers of people were thoroughly enjoying the park. For the most part cyclists were staying on the road while pedestrians claimed the full breadth of the shared walk/bike lanes.

I continued looping my way west, and eventually made it to what I'm now thinking of as the Museum Campus. I was last here several years ago, when the new home of the California Academy of Sciences was under construction; that project is now over, and the result is a perfectly formed jewel. The de Young museum continues to impress with its modernist architecture and wonderful outdoor sculptures and gardens. Next along in the ring, an outdoor amphitheater connects to the history of the park (it was erected in 1900); on this day there were no shows, but a talented amateur was playing a flute while several picnickers listened with appreciation. In the center of the campus is a recessed, tiered set of walkways and gardens, with a fountain in the middle. Finally, on the south end, the new Academy building was doing a brisk business.

The building looks nice; a bit big and blocky from a distance, but they do a lot of stuff with glass to open it up. I still haven't been inside; I've heard good things and am a bit curious, but at $30 per ticket, it will probably be a long time before I head there. Regardless, though, it really transforms the area from "The deYoung and Friends" to a full campus. The Japanese Tea Garden is now almost an afterthought, you need to hunt around for it.

I was tempted to make this my lunch spot, but decided to press on to Stow Lake, figuring that, hey, water is nice! The lake was indeed pleasant, and quite busy; the median age of visitors here skews several decades older than the rest of the park, and I suspect that many of them are native San Franciscans. I walked around for a bit, started to eat on a bench facing the water, then relocated to a nice little picnic area set farther back from the crowds, within sight of a waterfall. I had some leftover homemade pizza (Cook's Illustrated's recipe for thin-crust), a banana, and some homemade peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.

After I finished up, I wandered over towards the waterfall. There's a large stone cross above it, and I was curious about it. It turns out that it was erected back in 1894 (!), in honor of a priest from the Church of England who served as Sir Francis Drake's chaplain. The inscription covers both front and back of the cross, and tells how this guy led the first English-language prayers on the West Coast.

Checking the time, I decided it would be good to start heading back east; in all of my walking, I hadn't even reached halfway through the park. On my trip back I took a more southerly loop, closer to Martin Luther King Jr. Drive. This included the back of the California Academy, several very large fields and athletic areas, a lawn bowling club (with signs that sternly forbade playing bocce ball), and so on. I returned to the Panhandle, re-crossed Haight, did Buena Vista Park again and got acquainted with a new set of doggies, then resumed my long-delayed Stairway Walk from the book. This took me along Buena Vista Drive East (which has many gorgeous houses), down Roosevelt Way (also has gorgeous houses), down the Roosevelt-Henry stairs to Henry (which, you guessed it, has gorgeous houses). At Castro I swung south, crossed Market, then made my way back to the Mission.

It was a pleasantly warm and sunny day, and I was in the Mission. You can guess what that means: ice cream! I've long heard glorious tales of Bi-Rite Creamery, and knew that this was the perfect opportunity to try for myself. As with all popular Mission places, it was a bit of a scene, with a line that stretched to the end of the block. Still, I didn't have to be anywhere soon, and it was a thoroughly pleasant day, so I pulled the New Yorker out of my bag and read while I patiently waited.

Bi-Rite makes all their own ice cream, and do some really interesting flavors. There are a handful of familiars, like vanilla, chocolate, and cookies and cream; there are a few popular upscale flavors, like roasted caramel with sea salt and mango; and there were some fascinating originals, like roasted banana and ricanelas (cinnamon with snickerdoodles). I was fascinated by the latter, and opted for a single cone with ricanelas.

Bi-Rite is cater-corner from Mission Dolores Park, so I crossed the street and ambled through, licking my cone. The park was full, as is always the case on sunny weekends. It's an extremely chill scene; people plop down their blankets and hang out, reading or talking and enjoying the sun. A few people were playing music, and some folks nearby would dance. A children's playground was packed with young-un's, and the smell of marijuana was a little less strong there.

The cone lasted exactly long enough for my slow walk through the park; I disposed of it, then picked up 20th Street and continued east. I had just one thing on my agenda prior to heading to Yoshi's: I wanted to check out Borderlands, a science-fiction and fantasy bookstore, near 20th and Valencia.

It was quite cool. It's a little smaller than I was expecting, but stuffed with great books; and, since they only cover a few genres (horror in addition to sci-fi and fantasy), there's a much higher probability of finding something good. The store itself looks great as well; it may be the cleanest used book store I've ever been to.

They have newer books towards the front of the store, used hardcovers farther back, and used paperbacks at the very rear. They do that awesome independent bookstore thing where the staff (seems like two guys) write notes about their recommendations, giving a few sentences describing a book and why you should check it out. These seem to be very effective; in most cases, the books they referenced were no longer on the shelves.

I spent about half an hour in there, half-listening as someone (the owner? the clerk?) chatted with a series of customers while I scanned the shelves. I started by looking for a few favorite authors of mine - Neal Stephenson, Robert Anton Wilson, Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, George R. R. Martin. Unfortunately, I already own pretty much everything that they've written, but I was happy to see the books that they had. I was toying between buying a new copy of Neverwhere (just about the only Gaiman novel I haven't read yet) or Masks of the Illuminati (a less-popular successor to Illuminatus! and the Schrodinger's Cat trilogies; it sounds fascinating, it's supposedly about Albert Einstein and James Joyce teaming up to solve cosmic mysteries). However, I eventually found two used books that I wanted. In a bit of perfect timing, they had Christopher Moore's Bloodsucking Fiends; I had just started You Suck the day before and was coming to the realization that it was a sequel, so with BF I would be able to get caught up. Along with this I got William Gibson's Burning Chrome, which has been on my radar for years and bizarrely isn't carried by any library nearby.

It was now just a bit after 4:30, so I headed up Valencia back to 16th, over to Church, crossed Market, then jogged over. Google Maps wanted me to go up Fillmore; for a change of pace, I decided to head up Steiner instead. Steiner proved to be a bit more residential, and was a pleasant, relatively quiet walk up and down the hill.

Yoshi's San Francisco was built in connection with the new Jazz Heritage Center, which is part of a revitalization effort taking place in the Fillmore district. It's absolutely gorgeous. When you first walk in, you enter a large lobby that holds rotating exhibits; right now, it's a series on a Jewish-American artist. I walked around and peered at the reproductions. The history is pretty fascinating, all tied up with the horrors of World War II but also referencing back to the historical role that Jews played in earlier events like the Revolutionary War. I think that there's also a separate jazz museum area, but I didn't explore that.

I picked up my ticket from the box office; my awesome brother had scored reservations, which gave me a guaranteed good seat at this sold-out show AND a voucher for dinner. I headed into the restaurant, which is probably the best-looking dining area I've been inside in The City. I talked with the incredibly friendly host, who offered me a seat in the restaurant; I ended up sitting in the downstairs lounge, with a view of the flat-screen television showing the Jets-Steelers game. Yes!

The menu is similar to the Oakland Yoshi's. I was tempted by a lot of their dishes, but eventually decided to have the sushi; after all, it's amazing, and, as I was startled to realize, I haven't eaten any sushi in nearly six months. I got one of their sashimi combination plates, along with miso soup, edamame, and a Sapporo.

Of course, everything was delicious. They do a really interesting presentation of the sashimi: instead of just offering the standard soy, ginger, and wasabi, they scatter around a handful of flavor pairings. There's a wedge of lemon, a few thin radish slices, some nori, and a fascinating yellow gloop that I couldn't identify. The sashimi itself is excellent, although I did end up wishing that I'd ordered nigiri instead.

I milked my edamame and my beer as long as I could, keeping an eye on the game and another eye on the time. When I started watching, the Steelers were up 24-0; by the end, the Jets had mounted an amazing but ultimately unsuccessful rally, locking up 19 unanswered points. I finished the last of my beer and headed in to the club.

Hooray for reserved seats! Yoshi's (both locations) has an interesting policy, which is basically first-come first-serve, but you can reserve a seat with certain actions, like having a brother pay for your dinner. I wanted in about five minutes before the show and claimed my seat: second row from the stage, on the left side, with mostly a full-on view but able to see the piano player's hands. Score! The two other reserved tables at my table would remain empty for the whole night. Double score!

The show opened with the band walking out and taking up their instruments. Piano, drums, guitar. They started jamming. Paul F. Tompkins began addressing the audience. "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen! It is I, Paul F. Tompkins, of the Paul F. Tompkins show! Look around as much as you like... you cannot see me! But, do not fear. I am not a disembodied spectre, speaking to you from beyond the grave. I am merely standing behind this stage curtain!" And so on.

I just loved Tompkins' voice, here and throughout the show. I've seen and enjoyed his work on Mr. Show, and caught a handful of YouTube clips from him, but haven't followed him too closely otherwise, and so was surprised and impressed by the show.

The overall structure is kind of like an old-timey variety/vaudeville show, but with modern sensibilities. There were a few songs, including some from the band, a few solo pieces from Tompkin's Very Special Guest Tom Brosseau, and one show-stopping number with the whole gang. Tompkins did some comedy bits, mainly conversational storytelling, and kept up a pattering showmanship throughout. He also had some skits with his Very Special Guests: Neil Patrick Harris and Gillian Jacobs. Yay!

A few random memories from an excellent show:

I don't want to repeat too many jokes, but I figure his SF-specific bits are unlikely to be performed again, so: from his post-opening-song monologue:
"Thank you, San Francisco! I've heard that your one-sided rivalry with Los Angeles is continuing well. You know, the rivalry that we choose not to participate in; but, I think it's terrific that you guys are keeping up your end of it. I was riding in a cab yesterday, and learned from the driver that this isn't just a rivalry with LA, but with all of Southern California... and that includes San Diego. Really? San Diego? Let me just let you know, you guys have already won, whatever weird competition you think you're having with San Diego. I mean... what do you say when you meet someone from San Diego?  'Hey, you! Yeah, you guy from San Diego!  Nice... zoo!  And, nice... water zoo. Pfft... typical San Diego. Having two things.'"

I hadn't heard of Tom Brosseau before. He was quiet and pleasant, and a great singer and guitarist. It wasn't until about halfway through his first song that I realized it was also really funny. He had a complete, dead-on sincere thing going the whole way through, so even once I started to suspect that he meant it to amuse, it took a while for me to be sure. There really weren't any laugh points during the song, and while the audience clearly appreciated it, I'm not sure that we ever "got" it.

Neil Patrick Harris was excellent. Tompkins introduced him, and early on described how much he had enjoyed his role in Undercover Brother. I was delighted by the shout-out, and think that Tompkins was short-selling the movie... yeah, it's dumb, but it's a really fun kind of dumb, even beyond the (great) scenes that NPH is in.

For this section, they competed in a brand new game: Reference-a-thon! (Note: I don't remember what it was actually called.) Each one tried to stump the other with obscure references.

NPH: "Luca Braci sleeps with the fishes."
PFT: "Ohhhhhh..... mmmmm.... argh.... I should know this! Is it... wait.. gosh. I don't know. I'll just say 'The Godfather.'"
NPH: "That's right!"

PFT gave the quote "Soylent green is made out of people! It's people!" That kicked off an angry and heated exchange. First of all, as NPH pointed out, the quote is "Soylent Green is people! It's people!" He then got PFT to confess that he hadn't ever actually seen the movie, and so had no business referencing it. PFT defended himself, saying that he'd heard enough to understand what the movie was about, and preceded to give a capsule summary of the film. "Right?" he hopefully asked. NPH shrugged. "I don't know, I haven't seen it either." Which led to an increasingly violent series of recriminations, and a fear that they were plunging headlong into a dark future the same as what may or may not be depicted in the film Soylent Green.

It was pretty awesome.

Later on, PFT started in on a big, brassy, Broadway song covering major legal battles. "BROWN versus the BOARD of education!" He was interrupted by Gillian Jacobs, who walked out in her jammies, reminding PFT that they had a slumber party that night. PFT suggested crank calls; GJ reminded him that crank calls were mean, and suggested prank calls instead. They called that one boy who Gillian likes, and lots of giggling ensued.

This spun out into an increasingly crazy, surrealistic series of statements, ending with Gillian's tearful confession that she was, in fact, a bird with hollow bones.

The absolute biggest part of the night: EVERYONE came  back on stage to join together in performing one of the standards: "That's Not My Name" by the Ting Tings. It was AMAZING. And hilarious; I don't think people ever stopped laughing. They did a stunningly good job, too, throwing far too much talent into aping this pop hit. And it wasn't just a song, it was a performance. Tom gently crooned into his mike; Gillian gave this amazingly cute little scowl and half-shake of her head whenever she announced "That's not my name! That's not my name!" PFT led off and ended the song with a kind of slide-whistle thing, and joyously led the singing throughout. NPH and Gillian played off of each other wonderfully. (I think that NPH may not have been miked; I'm not sure if this is actually the case, and if so, whether it was deliberate or not.)

The evening ended with a very, very, very long (but funny!) farewell from PFT while his cohort twinkled the ivory. He went all over in saying his farewell. He thanked everyone (including his crew, and Yoshi's crew, and SF Sketchfest, and so on); he also thanked us for being such a wonderful audience. We stayed quiet for this part; it's rude to applaud yourself, right? He continued with something like, "You've been such a wonderful audience. I wish we could spend eternity together. And now we can!" He dramatically gestured up towards the ceiling. "Release the cyanide!" We all laughed and applauded. PFT giggled. "That has to be the weirdest reaction I've ever gotten from an audience. Who would have thought it would be so easy to start a cult?"

It finally ended, and after a standing ovation and final curtain call, they headed out. The whole evening felt like it had gone by really fast, but checking my watch, I realized that it had been about an hour and a half. I seem to get that experience every time I go to Yoshi's, and I suppose it's a good sign: I'm having so much fun that I'm sorry to see it end.

I worked my way back down to 16th and Mission, and was pleasantly surprised to only run into a single obnoxious drunk on the whole way. I think I might try to do this in the future and avoid the mid-Market gauntlet to reach my standard Civic Center station.

Anyways, it was a great cap to a nearly perfect day. Thanks, Pat!