Today is a tragic day in San Francisco history. The Bushman, Gregory Jacobs, has passed away due to heart failure. San Francisco is a very famous tourist attraction, and there is only ONE reason that tourists don’t come back. THE BUSHMAN. The Bushman was the greatest thing that ever happened to Fisherman’s Wharf. He scared the shit out of tourists all day and every day, leaving a stagnant memory in the minds of those that considered moving here. They thought that maybe San Francisco wasn’t a great place to move to after all. “Maybe I should move back to France and stay there because there are no black guys jumping out of bushes there.” Damn right. Don’t fall in love with our city and don’t ever come back, because even though the Bushman is gone, his spirit will remain forever. He will haunt all of you in a worse way than before…
“You’re worst nightmare: a black man behind a bush….Be a man, you know I got ya asses, it’s only a damn bush!” ($69,000 my ass hahaha, Bushman was always drunk , but who cares, he ruled)
…Instead of hopping out of his makeshift bush, from now on, he will appear in the presence of seagull shit. Yupp. I had a conversation with him about a week ago, and he told me that he is immortal. He said, once his body is deceased, he will hack the minds of seagulls and force them to shit on tourists. So, don’t be shocked if you’re a tourist, and you just happened to get shit on by a seagull. That seagull is the Bushman droppin turds on all of you. Fisherman’s Wharf is gonna be something similar to Hitchcock’s, The Birds. Only difference is that the birds won’t be attacking humans. Instead, they will be shitting on specifically tourists due to the magnificent, immortal powers of the Bushman. RIP Gregory Jacobs. Next time I see a seagull drop a massive turd on a tourist, I’ll laugh and know you’re still alive and in action. Thanks.
Not sure who this douche is, but the scares are great…
The spirit of the Bushman is so powerful that he doesn’t need laxatives. Birds will be dropping turds on tourists just like this…
By: Dago Joe
CHICAGO (AP) — An attorney for Harold Ramis says the actor has died.
Fred Toczek tells The Associated Press that Ramis died early Monday morning from complications of autoimmune inflammatory disease. He was 69.
Ramis is best known for his roles in the comedies “Ghostbusters” and “Stripes.”
According to Biography.com, Ramis co-wrote “Ghostbusters,” in which he appeared with fellow Second City alums Dan Aykroyd and Bill Murray.
The website says he also co-wrote “National Lampoon’s Animal House” and “Meatballs” and directed such films as “Caddyshack” and “Groundhog Day.” By Brian Shields
Dr. Egon Spengler, Ghostbusters
“Cannon ball comin…or just get weird with somebody.”
Writer, Back to School“They’re takin a break!”
Writer, Animal House
By: Dago Joe
SAN FRANCISCO (BCN) — A man stole a watch from a jewelry store near San Francisco’s Union Square on Sunday afternoon, police said.
Around 1:45 p.m., a man in his 30s entered a store near the corner of Grant Avenue and Post Street, said he was shopping for his fiancee and asked to see several rings, according to police.
He claimed he was a record producer and said he also wanted to look at watches. A saleswoman showed him a watch, and he said he needed one with more “bling,” according to police.
The saleswoman then gave him a watch with a diamond face and a platinum bezel to look at. He put the watch on his wrist and looked at it in a mirror, police said.
When the employee asked for the watch back, the man ran out of the store with the watch still on, according to police.
Derf: a word used to describe the dumbest of actions. Usually used as an insult, it is known to be most effective when shouted.
Introducing jewelry sales woman, Sally Derfrickson. The dumbest sales person in San Francisco. I coulda walked into that store and told Sally I was Patrick Swayze (RIP) and she woulda believed me. I mean this guy claimed to be a record producer? Attempting to sell rap CD’s in the Tenderloin doesn’t make a person a record producer. Before handing him a watch with a diamond face and a platinum bezel (whatever the fuck that is), it might be smart to ask the guy what record label he works for or maybe a list of the records he has produced. Sally, if you hear answers like Trill Bill from the TL or Yung Nasty Cuz, you might not wanna hand the guy a watch that expensive. Just a thought. Good luck telling your boss that you thought a crackhead from the TL was a famous record producer. You woulda been in the clear if Ol Dirty Bastard was still alive and came into your store to buy a watch. He was a rich, famous rapper that looked like a crackhead. But then again, he also collected food stamps, so he probably woulda robbed you too and lost you your job. Charlie Croker in the building.
By: Dago Joe
Christmas parties always brought out the best in Rod Beck. They epitomized him, really. There were games, karaoke, plenty of booze and a mix of people who came because they loved the guy everyone called “Shooter.” Here he was, an All-Star closer making millions of dollars. And when they asked what to bring, his guests were told to bring a toy. Beck and his wife, Stacey, wanted to make sure Toys for Tots had plenty of gifts for the children.
It sounded like a Hallmark card, but it was true. Beck was nothing if not genuine. He was a normal guy who usually called everyone “dude,” who instead of asking a clubhouse attendant to pick up his used, dirty towels, would ask him to go share a smoke.
“His image was not something he was,” says Tim Wakefield, Beck’s teammate from 1999-2001 in Boston. “He had a huge heart, and was so humble. He was so full of life.”
Rodney Roy Beck, a name that even sounds like a cocktail, was usually with a Coors Light and a KOOL cigarette, and “he wasn’t no pop hitter,” said Dusty Baker. “That’s what they’d call you back in the day, pop hitter.”
Baker knows. He ‘d never had a sip of alcohol before arriving in the minor leagues in 1967, when his first manager saw him drinking soda and told him he wasn’t carrying no pop hitters on his roster. Beer or water only, Dusty quickly learned.
“Back in the old days he would’ve really been accepted,” Baker says, “because [beer drinking] was the norm.”
When he arrived in San Francisco as a rookie in 1991, with Baker as the hitting coach, Beck needed no introduction to the old school. He was it.
Beck was 34 and a year removed from Tommy John surgery when he drove from Phoenix to Des Moines by himself and parked his RV camper next to his workplace, behind the right-field fence. And when the light was on, that meant anyone could stop by for a beer. When the light was off, the Iowa closer was sleeping in preparation for the next day’s game.
By Amy K. Nelson | ESPN.com
Rod Beck was ahead of his time. He defined what it meant to be a true GAMER on and off the field. The guy loved drinking Coors Lights, lived in a trailer parked outside his minor league stadium in Phoenix, smoked Kool cigarettes, and did coke off of his own baseball cards. What was that last one? He did coke off of his own baseball cards? Yes, the police found cocaine and a rolled up bill on top of his Giants baseball card at the crime scene of his death. Name one player nowadays who is that cool. NOBODY will ever be as cool as Beck. Absolutely nobody.
“He had that Fu Manchu, that menacing glare, the stare, the dangling right arm,” says Barney Nugent, the Giants’ former assistant athletic trainer, who first met Beck in 1991. “That mullet blowing in the Candlestick breeze all the time. … It was, ‘Me against you, and I’ll tell you, I’m going to win. There’s no way that I’m gonna lose.’ That was Shooter, and everybody could respond to it.”
When it came to pitching the fuck outta the baseball and striking fear into every batter you faced, you were the man, Rod. You were IT. Nobody wanted to face you. You were a REAL AMERICAN.
(And we know you would never through the flag down like Kenny P.)
As we prepare for the 2014 baseball season, it is vital to remember gamers like Beck. While he may have liked to party a lot, the guy was a class act and a great teammate. Everybody loved him. Nowadays, baseball players walk around like they are the cream of the crop. I understand that these guys are making millions of dollars, and the ego is built from a fat paycheck, but it would be nice to see some ordinary guys. Rod was just THAT. Fans were able to relate to him and they loved him.
Unfortunately, Beck fought his own demons and his disease of addiction took his life at the young age of 37 on June 23, 2007. He was buried in his Cubs uniform, but Giants fans will never forget his glory days from 1991-1997.
As a 22 year old rookie in 1991, Beck finished with a 3.78 ERA, pitched 52 1/3 innings in 31 games and struck out 38 while walking only 13. In 1992, he became the regular closer taking over for the current Giants’ pitching coach, Dave Righetti, finishing with 12 saves and a 1.76 ERA. The following year, Beck recorded 48 saves (yes 48 fuckin saves), and 24 of them were consecutive. Beck was a beast, setting 2 Giants franchise records for most consecutive saves and most saves in a season. In his final year with the Giants, at age 28, Beck pitched 70 innings and finished with 38 saves, both of which were the most recorded since his 1993 season.
When the Giants were 1 game back of the Dodgers in 1997, Beck proved his veins were full of ice. In their matchup on September 18 at the Stick, Beck came into the game at the top of the 10th with a score of 5-5. He gave up 3 consecutive hits, and loaded the bases with no outs. Dusty Baker then makes a visit to the mound, talks to Beck, and decides to keep him in. Any normal baseball fan watching that game thought Beck was gonna get pulled, but Dusty stuck with his gut and kept him in. Shooter strikes out Todd Zeile looking for out #1. He then got pinch-hitter, Eddie Murray, to hit into a double-play. The sold-out crowd at Candlestick went crazy, and so did Beck after his clutch performance (1.12). In the 12th, Brian Johnson hit a walk-off home run and the Giants would go on to win the NL West. EAT SHIT LA. As a Giant, Beck finished with 199 saves and a 2.97 ERA over 7 years. He joined the Cubs in 1998 where he recorded the most saves of his career, 51.
Beck you are gone but never will be forgotten. RIP, Go Giants.
Can in left pocket…GAMER.
By: Dago Joe
Oscar-winning actor Philip Seymour Hoffman was found dead of an apparent heroin overdose — with a hypodermic needle still stuck in his arm — at his Greenwich Village apartment Sunday, authorities said. He was 46.
The acclaimed screen and stage star was discovered in his underwear on the bathroom floor of his $9,800-a-month rental after missing a morning appointment to pick up his three young kids from their mother, his longtime girlfriend, Mimi O’Donnell, law-enforcement sources said.
Philip Seymour Hoffman’s New York City apartment building, Pickwick House, where the actor was found dead earlier today.Photo: Getty Images
He was declared dead at the scene, a needle in his left forearm. A source said it was clear that the “Capote’’ star had been dead “for hours.”
Hoffman — a versatile and prolific actor famed for his vivid portrayals of troubled souls — had repeatedly struggled with substance abuse. He spent 10 days in rehab last year for abusing prescription pills and heroin after 23 years of sobriety.
Cops found five empty glassine envelopes in a garbage can, two more under the bed and one on a table in the apartment, along with a charred spoon in the kitchen sink, sources said.
“He was shooting up in the bathroom,” a law-enforcement source said.
February 2, 2014 | 1:28pm
Philip you will be greatly missed. I can’t say I’ve seen too many of your movies, but Boogie Nights is in my top 5. You’re not an idiot and rest easy Phil…
Not creepy at all…
“It’s my big dick and I say when we roll. You know what? I’m the biggest star here, man. That’s the way it is! I want to fuck! It’s my big dick! So, everybody get ready fuckin’ NOW!”