Dopesters have more fun.

• Author: Durst, Will
• Position: Satire on Jack Davis's birthday party and other topics - Column

It gets weirder and weirder. Jack Davis, the San Francisco political consultant in charge of convincing voters they should spend $100 million for the San Francisco Forty-Niners' new stadium, had a birthday party that would have made Caligula grab his date and gallop off. In a blatant attempt to curry favor with the integral S/M swing vote, party planners hired a self-described Indian satanist performance artist who had a pentagram carved in his back, got urinated on, and then had a bottle of Jack Daniels planted in his behind. He called it the Apache Whiskey Ride, and said it was all to illustrate how the Indians were ruined when the white man forced liquor on them, although, if that's how they drank it, you have to wonder about the effect. First the Indian community complained. Now, the sadomasochist community has chimed in with their two cents' worth. And guess what? We owe them change. Apparently, real sadomasochists have a more developed sense of taste and a better circle of friends. The funniest part is they're against the stadium anyway. Even the performance artist is against it.

The Barbary Coast thrives again. San Francico's reputation as Gomorrah by the Sea is secure for at least another two generations.

So to believe the newspapers, humankind is doomed because a bunch of circuits and wires made Gary Kasparov cry. Hey, settle down peoples of the Earth. Personally, I don't think he's wound all that tight to begin with. The guy probably cries at AT&T commercials. He lost a chess game to a computer. Big freakin' deal. We still regularly crush them in Chinese checkers and Yahtzee, don't we? Besides, who do you think programmed the stupid computer? Damn right! If it hadn't been for us bipeds teaching Deep Blue how to cheat real good, that mass of silicon would have begun smoking like a four-pack-a-day-garage-band bass player after the third move. Let Kasparov challenge Deep Blue to a guts match of Twister and see what happens. Let's see the Almighty Wired One handle a table full of drunken heckling tourists during a second show Friday. Then we'll see who can play hardball.

In Milwaukee, Wiconsin, my home town, if you ask for an espresso coffee, they still think you want it real quick.

Sometimes I think our public officials are so stuck in the 1930s they should all be wearing spats. They refuse to accept that pot can be used as a cheap, effective medicine. For crum's sake, it grows in the ground. When's the last time you got a pine...