"God Quit! Sign Up!"

The title of this post is taken from breaking news, as heard on the streets of downtown Berkeley...

Sightings:
Shamrock Guy had a run-in with the local pizza establishment. Refused entry by an adamant employee, Shamrock Guy attempted to make his way by force. Pushed back by the now offended employee, Shamrock Guy, in desparation, tried to punch the employee. This resulted in Shamrock Guy recieving a square-on kick in the chest that sent him sprawling to the sidewalk. Later that day he was spotted missing a shoe. Another bs correspondent witnessed him attempting to persuade the good employees of Goodwill to donate to him a new shoe. Days later he was sighted still with only one shoe and a dirty sock. A day after that he was seen wearing one shoe and a fluffy slipper on the other. A week later he had a matching pair of new shoes.

Denture Guy was banned from a downtown business for stealing but that hasn't stopped him from trying to get his fix: fake joke teeth he calls "dentures." Imagine the surprise of the employee that day when a confused young man came in to ask if he could buy some "dentures." Understanding immeditely that Denture Guy had sent in a ringer, the employee pretended lack of comprehension and stated they sold no dentures. Moments after the ringer left Denture Guy himself rushed in stating he needed his dentures and was gently reminded by the employee of his permanent banishment as which point he whirled around and yelled "shut it bitch!" with some emotion. But, threatened with local constabulary's involvement in the situation, he retreated to outside where he loudly proclaimed, "they won't let me in! they won't give me my dentures! They won't let me into my home!"

Omar Perro was all worked up for Valentine's Day. He raced down the streets loudly proclaiming "I love you! I love your son! I love your mama!"

The Painter meandered past our bs correspondents one day, coming to rest in front of them. Dressed in a filthy possibly green sweater,completely begrimed and carrying a thin walking stick of his own creation, he stared upwards a moment in contemplation. Turning he stated hello to our bemused correspondents and returned to his reverie. Completely oblivious he reached up and reamed around in his ear canal a bit with his blackened finger and studied the result. Then he turned around and went his way.


Shit Spotting:
Someone had a little slip and slide next to the BART station. Someone carefully positioned a meaty offering in front of the crosswalk where someone went for a little skid. To mark the offense a large orange cone was placed in front of the skidderoo of epic proportions.

Introductions:
You can hear it all the way down the block: the sound of Worst Blind Man Ever smacking his cane down the sidewalk. How does Worst Blind Man distinguish himself from other visually impaired folk? Whereas one hears the gentle tapping of canes by capable people sharing the same impairment, Worst Blind Man Ever continues to assault the general public and local downtown businesses with his manic cane flailing, his grumpy and begrimed demeanor and the real excitement that occurs when he works himself into the same dead end every two days. Once reaching said dead end or open doorway Worst Blind Man begins a chest-level attack with his cane, somehow unable to concieve just what happened that he ended up in the corner of a storefront like a local bookstore. Flailing away with rapid fire twacks, employees of local businesses have to yell at him from a distance "which store are you looking for? or "do you need help?" at which point he will mutter to himself and turn around before flailing his way forward in the opposite direction. One of our bs correspondents came forward with a story in which Worst Blind Man Ever reached a store's doorway and then collapsed in it on his side. When the frantic salesperson tried to communicate with him about his health or needs, he dismissed her inquires by growling "it's fine" and opening a pack of Oreo cookies, began to shove them into his mouth. Eventually he recovered and without any thanks or confirmation of feeling better twacked his way down the street once more.

A gentleman that we now know as the Loudmouth, a highly abrasive and opinioned individual was kind enough to share his opinions at large to the general public. We have saved some of his choicer bon mots to share with you:
"The prices are going up, can you believe it? A homeless man asked me to buy him a coke! I find out a coke costs $2.69!"
"These kids will rob you blind!"
"In China they just take you into a field and shoot you! That's criminal punishment in China!"
He signed off with "Now I'm gonna feed my face!" before marching away.

Welcome Yule

Welcome to our special holiday edition of the Street Society Newsletter! Here we are hurtling towards the end of the year, full of spirits, shivering to death in our cold cold workspaces/homes/doorways...
Congratulations to Berkeley for passing the Public Commons for Everyone Iniative. This steps up arrests of our friendly street sleepers in time for winter! Yay full prisons! Yay tickets for people with no money! Yay $350 a month for businesses downtown willing to allow the public into their bathrooms! Does the corner of our storefront count?
Also, we would like applaud former mayoral candidate and resident tree-sitter Zachary Running-Wolf for his well thought out campaign to recall Mayor Tom Bates. After making the round of the local morning tv shows espousing his position he has embarked on a brilliant guerilla movement in Berkeley: the chalking of Recall Bates on every corner of Telegraph and some important intersections in other parks of Berkeley. We're sure that this and constant reapplication after rainstorms will help win the hearts and minds of the Berkeley citizens for his cause.

From People's Park we bring you BREAKING NEWS:
"Your knees will hit the pavement when I tell you to fuck me!"

We regret to inform the members of Berkeley Street Society that one of our society has passed on to the saintly sidewalks in the sky (for do not pennies fall from heaven? It can be reasoned that the larger change awaits above.)The gentleman known as Keep On Smiling (often sighted outside the local dollar establishment selling the esteemed publication Street Spirit) has left us. In his memory we say to all our readers Keep On Smiling
Rest in Peace.

And now, a little tale of Christmas whimsy, we would like to call:
MS PRUNE THINKS SHE'S GONNA BUY A PURSE
Out on the street one December day, when sitting and having her morning grumble and fifteenth virgina slim in front of the local coffee establishment, it occurred to Ms Prune that she was of a mind to look for a new bag. A bag, she thought, must be colorful, for to catch the eye when she grimaces up to someone to ask for change. So she set out on a quest for a bright bag. She came to a store with many bags in the window that she was familiar with having gone in and browsed the bag selection before. But she considered that perhaps today was the day that she would bring one special bag out with her. So she walked in and breathed her "henh, henh" heavily whilst perusing the bags, lifting them and stroking them and considering which one was the best for her while the sales clerk looked at her dubiously. Many times she asked how much a specific bag was, until finally, she decided... today was not her day. And she tottered off to her corner to beg more change from people in the holiday spirit. God Bless Us everyone!

In the spirit of the holidays, let's get to closer to our fellow man - It's:
UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH SCAB McMUFFIN
The other day while watching Scab or Scabbie darling as we call him endearingly meander by in the middle of the traffic whizzing by, egg mcmuffin in hand, I had a breakthrough. Well, actually, I noticed Scabbie had a breakthrough. I think his brain was showing. For, unless we forget, Scab is named for the massive crusty crater visible from a distance of 200 feet. And that day on the street there was no exception, Scab was there, his scab was prominent, glistening and grisly, oozing amounts of grostesque bodily fluid, pulsating with a nervous energy as Scab stepped to the curb to quickly shove the rest of his Mcmuffin in his mouth before his daily dig through the trash can. The side of face was freshly ripped open exposing something pink and wrinkly, suggestive of brain matter. Up close, one notices that Scab is covered with little pustules and flakes of dead skin, and, of course, one can never stop wondering, just what the hell is wrong with him, that he rips his healing face open on a weekly basis?!

After winning the staff holiday pool we present a jolly editorial from one our bs correspondents:
WHY DO ALL OUR CUSTOMERS REEK OF BOOZE AND CIGARETTES?!
Hi, I work in downtown Berkeley on Shattuck and I have to ask, does most of the population that live downtown live above bars or in bars!? If I have to help one more scuzzy guy in a crappy leather jacket that stinks of a billion cigarettes without filters smoked to the ends, with the breath of five King Cobras, I will start working in a gas mask. Or put up a sign "Attention booze hounds, BATHE!" You know, those women who smell of a thousand types of exotic fruits so strongly you think you're going to choke on guava/citrus/passionfruit...well meet their opposite the men who walk around like pigpen from peanuts surrounded by a cloud of toxic cancer mist and the stench of cheap liquor oozing from their pores. Just stop it people! Stop polluting the public air with your vices, be it poison or perfume! Save us from strong scents this Christmas, please!

For Christmas we like to enjoy a feeling of family and community. It's time to look around and get to know the people in your neighborhood and so we introduce:
PORTRAITS OF PANHANDLERS
- When you turn the corner of University onto Shattuck in the evening when night has fallen, in the shadows lurks a skinny white man with a cap in a windbreaker who will accost you in a rapid monotone: "spare a quarter for the BART?" After research we have found that he never varies his spiel and is a jerk that has never been seen in the BART station.
- On Shattuck between Center and Addison you will run into a man with a baseball cap sitting cross-legged on the ground. He is well-known to us, bumming cigarettes off of people when he can't get change. Seeing you in the distance he will make eye contact and smile cheerfully, eternally hopeful, and say "Spare any change?" Despite the number of times you have walked past and never given him change he remains eternally hopeful, always there with a smile, ready to ask you again, rocking on his butt. But you know, YOU KNOW NOW, he lives in a residence hotel the next block.
-If you have the misfortune to be on the block of Shattuck between Center and Allston you will run into a tall, uncomfortably over-polite black man standing exactly between Jupiter and Walgreens who will smile gently and say, "Excuse me, can you possibly spare any change today?" You will smile back or ignore him and he will say after you "God bless you and have a nice day now." After seeing you repeatedly he will banter with you (despite, again, the fact you have never given him change) "How are you doing today? My day got better now that I've seen you! God bless you and have a nice day now." SOOOO creepy!
- Drinky Bill, he of the bulbous nose and lack of brain, stands on the block of Shattuck between Allston and Kittridge in the shadow of an abandoned storefront between the luggage store and the E.Z. Stop. Muttering indistinctly "spare a few pennies?" he hides his bottle in the paper bag in the corner behind him.
That's four blocks in a row of running the change gauntlet on Shattuck and that's not including others who will grace these very pages in a future issue.

Have you missed Manimal? Well, you've been good this year so we bring you:
EYE-WITNESS!
Our correspondent on the scene was enjoying a quiet stroll back from her local coffee establishment when she noticed the Queen of Cal accosting someone for one of her chats. Suddenly a passer-by shouldered her from behind, Queenie's braids notably flying asquew from the impact, as he walked past. But he continued onward, making no sign of recognization or apology. Queen of Cal, never one to let a slight pass, whipped around and yelled, "Hey, you don't do that! You need to apologize!" To which, the passer-by stopped, turned around, spread his arms defiantly and said quite loudly, "There's no loitering, BITCH!!" Which this correspondent thought was hilarious because that is how Manimal and Queen of Cal frequently roust people on that block, by accusing them of loitering. At that remark, Queen of Cal's lips pursed in fury, and while making sounds of extreme anger she pulled out her cell, presumably having the police on speed dial. Yelling loudly for Manimal over her shoulder she pointed at the passer-by saying, "you just wait! I'm calling the police! You ain't going nowhere!" A loud snorting sound signified that indeed Manimal was arriving and the passer-by, knowing he was in trouble, ducked into one of many poison $1 chinese food places littering Shattuck. Next the correspondent knew the two women(?) had run into the Chinese place to attempt to extricate the passer-by and a whole lot of screaming and yelling was going on. By the time the correspondent was able to return to the scene she found that the local constabulary was hosting one of their informal tea party socials on the block with no less that a police captain to be the host. A great deal of witness testimony of needed, the passer-by, still convinced of his innocence, was extracted from the Chinese place and the Queen of Cal and Manimal looked most gratified to be shamefully the center of attention again.

Based on real life events this December we have composed:
HOLIDAY POETRY CORNER
Twas the fight before Christmas...
And through the place
Some chicas were yelling
Get out of my face
It began quite simply
In the round table that day
The students crowded in for lunch
No suggestion of a fray
Voices were raised
And this was not new
Often they hazed
Each other in queue
Yet louder the screams
Female in sound
A space had cleared
Two girls went round
Before you knew it
Knifes came out
Two girls slashed
In fierce bout
Grabbing each
The hair of the other
With one hand stabbed
Whilst yelling fucker
The fuzz were called
But was too late
Blood was running
Off pizza plates.

A word to the public:
JOY TO THE WORLD OR JEALOUS ARE THE PARKERS
Can't we all just get along?
A lot of people seem to be having trouble getting into the holiday spirit. A parking space should not become a life or death experience! Ladies and gentlemen should not engage in verbal battle until blood is spilled. But we have seen this month a number of parking rage incidents this month. C'mon on people, all of Shattuck is metered anyway!
Witnessed by two of correspondents was an incidents regarding two women. It all began when a large entitled lady stole a space from a little troll woman with full beard and moustache. The troll in her broken down jalopy was attempting, crudely, to parallel park when a posh SUV swooped down and gracefully stole the space, forcing the jalopy to rethink its plan and park further down the street. When both vehicles had disgorged their drivers, the troll screamed down the street that the lady was "a bitch" for stealing her parking spot. To which the lady, ready to battle, yelled back,"You call me a bitch? You're lucky I don't kick your fat white ass you ugly bitch! I saw your registration's expired, you're lucky if I don't call the police!"
To which the troll rejoindered "Go ahead and call the police!" even while she scuttled away, immediately beginning a defensive retreat backwards into her vehicle. As the entitled lady whipped out her very new cell phone the troll quickly drove away.
Another parking fracas involved a large pickup truck and a lady in a sedan. The pickup was waiting for another car to leave, but as soon as the space opened up, a sedan quickly stopped and backed into the space before the truck had a chance. The gentleman jumped from his cab screaming in a high effeminent squeaky voice, "You bitch! You fuckin asshole! You don't do that! You don't steal a space someone's waiting for!" To which the woman getting out of her sedan looked at him blankly. Continuing to scream high-pitched epithets at her as walked away on her executrix pumps two men passing by told him to shut up and be a man and deal with it. Insult to injury there.

Yo yo my street peeps we got the dish on the latest fashion trends! You want the tightest gear, we got:
STYLE
Dr Bombay sports a new trendy turquoise trenchcoat with pimplicious brown fur trim. He accents his macho posturing with a purple scarf and his familiar putrid stench of dirty catbox. Jiving to the latest beats on his boom box, he wheels his cart with the polished rims.
Dreadful, currently staggering about in a demure houndtooth men's jacket with leather patches on the elbows has made a daring statement by wearing only one shoe.
We also must salute nipples, the greatest accent to the winter season, seen on any young lady or gentleman shuffling down the sidewalk in their too thin tunic tee, followed by shivering, the greatest accent of the season, for how else would the plebian public know you were stylishly underdressed for the weather if you weren't obviously dying of hypothermia because of it?!

SIGHTINGS
Pumpkin Lady, long thought to have disappeared, was sighted passed out in San Francisco on some grass near the Ferry Building.

Eat My Pussy lady has been sighted many times downtown, panhandling from a milk crate that she carries around with her, grumbling and swearing, until, finished for the evening she releases a full barrage of profanity screaming to high heaven, clearing the streets before her.

A Street Society member unknown to this correspondent stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk on a busy Saturday night. At least he appeared frozen but actually he was moving in slow motion until he suddenly would yell "Fuck" in a sudden flurry of motion before freezing again.

A can collector who works with her husband and is often sighted downtown with her dog stood outside a known cha-bra establishment of billiards and screamed at a pack of man-hos that they had kicked her beloved dog Ebony, despite all their fascious replies to the contrary. Yelling that they were wrong, they had done wrong and they just wait until her husband came back she followed them down the street.

Smile Guy, beamish ball of joy, denizen of bouncy ball warehouses of dream, had his heart crushed by the callous words of a retail employee he was hounding. After offering blurry pictures of streetside flowers to her he insisted he was not leaving until he made her happy. The employee asserted that she had the power to create her own happiness, in fact that happiness comes from within and that she found him really irritating. Deflating, Smile Guy attempted to bring up bouncy balls, his passion, but his hopes were dismissed mercilessly.

Omar Perro dropped by downtown Berkeley to share his gracious presence. About to advance into a business where he was unwelcome the cashier reminded him that by entering the business he was infringing on the "agreement". Strangely, this took Omar Perro aback, "You're right," he said. "I have violated the terms of the agreement!" Profusely apologizing (I'M sorry, I'M so sorry) he backed away and left without further comment. The cashier was widely applauded as a genius.

We are informed by one of our many bs correspondents that Ms Prune asked at the Halloween Store, during Halloween, for a job. It was suggested that perhaps she would be great atmosphere for a place specializing in scary props. Imagine finding her a corner wrapped in her orange apron snarling and hissing at you "Get away from me!" shaking her little fists defiantly before her.

Ring Man needs rings! With fists full of wadded ones he enters downtown businesses begging to buy a gaudy jeweled ring, however he has become unwelcome because of past encounters with his craziness and is not allowed.

A Street Society member known to us for his love of shamrock stickers, henceforth known as "Shamrock Guy," walked into a local retail shop for his stickers and deposited a gallon of melted mocha fudge ice cream on the counter. They were not amused.

Happy New Year beloved subscribers! Here's to the hope that one day the events in these pages will seem like a very bad dream. Peace.

The seasons' they're a-changin'

Have you missed us? We've missed you! But here we are, subscribers, back again with more juicy tales of the sordid streets of the town we call home. As summer drops into fall with no noticable change in weather we've been spending our time checking out Halloween stores (we love Halloween). This month we have for you a lovely Fashion supplement and our brand-spanking new Incidents section for those Happenings downtown that happen to involve our favorite things, Berkeley Street Society members versus Berkeley citizens. We leave you to your repast.

Breaking news!
"You know, there are a lot of smug-ass hippies in this town."

Sightings!
Omar Perro was on hand to welcome some tourists to our fair city. Greeting them in his generous manner by striding toward them with his arms wide open, his pungent aroma wafting free, 40oz in hand, he proclaimed loudly "Ladies! Ladies!" The ladies, understandably, tried to avoid him and when it was discovered that he would not be shook they began to remonstrate with him, waving their cellphones at him like holy crosses, insisting they would call the police. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" yelled Omar Perro drunkenly stumbling towards them as the ladies screamed,"Get away! You're scaring me! I'm gonna call the police!"
To lessen his overwhelming impact on downtown Berkeley Omar Perro has also taken to visiting the Tenderloin in San Francisco where he was sighted wandering down Market Street yelling "Hello there!" to passer-by.

Ring Man attempted entry of a downtown business insisting he needed a ring. When refused, he became obnoxious, accusing the proprietors of being "fuckin' bitches" and "Germans."

Dreadful apparently felt an urgent need upon him and went to visit one of his various spots. With the trash can on the corner in sight, he began to unzip his pants while still crossing the street. A woman in a glittering BMW spotted the action and assumed some nastiness to her car or person was about to occur and began yelling from the car window, "uh uhh motherfucker! Oh helllll no!" As Dreadful stumbled past her to urinate on the sidewalk she drove away in relief.

Eat My Pussy lady was spotted in the subway in Oakland but came to our attention when she decided to stroll in the Square and sit herself down next to a gentleman of obvious wealth. Oblivious to his Gucci loafers or his absorbed gaze at his Blackberry she began to speak of her favorite subject: pussies. "Bitch you don't wash your pussy! You don't clean your pussy right! Bitch I can smell it! Wash your pussy!" It was unclear if she was speaking to anyone directly but the gentleman's reaction was to freeze (as though this would spare him hearing the verbal onslaught). While he did not move to leave he did sport a look of absolute terror.

The Schizo has taken to believing she is invisible. This means she stands in the shadows of objects, some of them smaller than her. Next to postcard racks, recycling bins, or trash cans, the Schizo slides from shadow to shadow, sure she is the stealthiest of ninja.

Incidents
Witnessed by our beloved bs correspondents, a Berkeley Street Society member was loitering in a java dispensing establishment downtown. When asked if she wanted to order she knocked over the barista's stack of cups and screamed, "I'm not a customer you fuckin' faggot!"

A gentleman of BSS sat in his wheelchair in front of a downtown bookstore. Sighting a bookstore patron he attempted to pop a wheelie, nearly running over the patron's foot. Unimpressed, the patron saved their appendage and began to walk away, shooting a look at the wheelchair bum who sneered at her.

A woman unknown to our correspondents appeared on a downtown street and began screaming racial profanities targeted at people walking past. A group of twenty-somethings, being informed by the woman that they were "niggers", stopped and began to take issue with her. By the time a large crowd formed to watch the entertainment Manimal had appeared to witness and add her faux British uninformed opinions. Words were exchanged at length with no obvious effect on either side and finally losing patience the swain of one of the accosted ladies used his skateboard to end the argument. A scream like no other ever heard before downtown undulated at length with great depth and variations of pitch. By the time the lady had settled down to yelling profanity at store windows again the constables had arrived, accompanied by members of the local Bug-Fuck Crazy Aid Society/ Voluntary Vagrant Charm school wielding their clipboards and walkie-talkies to no effect whatsoever. The correspondent noted that she resembled the "Eat my Twat" lady closely but was not the same person.

Spotted in a planter downtown, a young gentleman with a pit bull mix was hiding in the foilage, rapidly scuttling about on his knees, insisting to the dog that they "had to stay quiet otherwise they were going to get them." It was assumed that the gentleman was under the influence of psychotropic drugs at the time.

A Berkeley Street Society member was found passed out in the doorway of a downtown business in his own river of pee. When informed he would have to move, the gentleman declined. When verbally attacked again with reinforcements the newly-dubbed Pee River Bum staggered into the next doorway down, only to pass out again. A member of the constabulary showed up to look at the copious amount of urine and the bum, only to return to their car and drive away. We applaud their efforts.

A young gentleman stood on a downtown street while in the throws of an epic battle raging within his mind that he felt the need to verbally narrate for the general public. The "Dragon Boy," as dubbed by our correspondent on the scene, proceeded to salivate foam and spit as he warned passer-by about the dragons coming from other dimensions. Passionately serious about his subject, he walked back and forth for a great deal of time in his zeal to warn as many people as possible.

Strange spirits erupted from ketchup bottles in a downtown restaurant. Unexplicably three ketchup bottles exploded over patrons seeking a bit of tomato goodness on their fries. When answers were sought none could be offered, leading people to blame the supernatural again.

While visiting a fellow retail lackey, a bs corrspondent witnessed a man in a wheelchair come in and ask the counter person for nipple pasties. Frustrated by his lack of boob and inability to twirl them like Elvira, he left without purchasing a pair.

Fashion!
IT's that time again! The seasons are changing and bums need to change their wardrobe to keep up with fashion. Don't be caught wearing only last year's jeans found on the street. Vintage is in and you'll be shamed in you're seen in nothing more than jeans twenty years old, artfully torn in the butt and covered in filth in the no-no places. No bum should be without the two neccessary items, the Superman t-shirt, especially beloved of can-collectors everywhere and the glamourous dyed glass ring, worn and recommended by Ring Man and others. Why only yesterday an odiferous example of BSS manhood stopped by to show us his stylin' Care Bear sleeping bag and to reesstablish his supply of bum rings by buying a couple.

Ms. Poopie Pants is our featured fashionista of the BSS set. We've seen her sporting a number of snappy outfits but two stand out. In Oakland by Lake Merritt she featured a stunning pair of dirty sweatpants artfully wetted in the most suggestive spots. And while crossing the street in Berkeley she wore a bedraggled blue skirt with a feminine hint of lace at the edge, probably on a date with a good poop in a corner.

Observed:
A member of the Bug-Fuck Crazy Aid Society/Voluntary Vagrant Charm School was observed acting in a strange manner alike the people she was ostesibly supposed to assist. It was suggested that perhaps she was taking an aid to stay alert as her pupils were considerably diliated and there was noticible jaw-griding going on.

Overheard exchange:
"Goddamn, you KNOW me by now!"
"Ya meanie! Ya meanie!"

We have no idea what that exchange meant either but it was hilarious at the time and we had to share it with you. To you our beloved courageous subscribers we wish you good luck. Thank you and good night.

Sharks and wine

We've been lax, we'll admit. We have excuses tailored. We were busy. We were enjoying summer. We were working two jobs. We were watching bad shark movies and drinking wine.
That's a damn good fucking excuse right there.
Any case, it wasn't as though we weren't finding solid gold shit on the street for this esteemed journal. So feast your eyes, gentle reader and bask in the glory of the Berkeley Street Society!

The City of Berkeley has continued on their war on all Berkeley Street Society members, sane and crazed, clean and filthy. This is a drastic change from their former lax enforcement of the handcarting, bedraggled, grumbling, bring us your shambling, obscenity-screaming masses yearning for pocket change existence of the homeless. Many of our more recognizable members have left the City. Others have been downgraded, their possessions seized. Both Viva Bush, who has since moved to a granny cart, and the Painter, who merely walked over the Ace Hardware and started a cart afresh, have suffered this indignity.

If you feel concerned about this sudden reverse in policy, you can join the BSS's newest program: Adopt a Member!
Are you aware that the homeless are becoming endangered in Berkeley? Many of their unnatural environments are being turned against them! The constables frequently raid the parks at night, leaving many to retreat to the cold concrete of south Shattuck. While our most regular BSS members are still about, we worry what will happen to their freedom...so we introduce Adopt a Member!
Our pilot program has so far been a success, we have at least three BSS members now sponsored by responsible citizens who wish to give back to their community by throwing themselves into the relentless, guilt-inducing, heart-breaking struggle of friendship and care taking for a BSS member. It is not a relationship to take lightly but you too can reap the rewards of caring for your fellow human. Just think, no celebrity designed necklace, no funky rubber bracelets, no fancy bags or designer t-shirts involved, just you and another human who wants some spare change and possibly a place to shower.

Breaking news!
"Do you have any plastic pussies?"

Shit Spotting
A large skidderoo was sighted in front of Half Price Books. We deeply sympathize with whoever went skiing in feces, leaving dirty footprints into the store.

Sightings
Dr. Bombay decided to indulge in a bit of fencing one day. Unfortunately no one else was informed of his desire and so to the general public innocently walking down the street, it appeared as though this smelly man in five layers of clothing was attacking them with his cane. Twirling his pimp cane with studious concentration, Dr. Bombay would jump in front of an unsuspecting pedestrian and begin sparring. The person was likely boggled by the shock, the stench, and the extremely loud music coming from Dr. Bombay's ghetto blaster. Yet many managed to scuttle away, leaving the good doctor to his next opponent.

The Schizo was carefully perusing items at a sidewalk sale when she stepped back suddenly, slamming into a vision-impaired gentleman who was passing on the sidewalk behind her. The gentleman, shocked, stopped to regather his senses, but the Schizo had to explain. "You need to say excuse me. Excuse me, you crashing into me. You should apologize. I won't forgive you," she muttered. Shocked, the gentleman quickly continued on his way.
But the young lady attending the sidewalk sale overheard this unorthodox apology, a new one to her, and felt a need to correct the Schizo. "Can't you see he's visually-impaired you rude bitch?!" The Schizo muttered inaudibly and wandered off.

A gentleman entered a store and asked to buy a helium tank. When informed that the store's tank was a fixture he offered to pay a $1000 for it. When asked just why he needed the helium so badly he said he needed it to blow up his car's tires to make his car faster. This was met with disbelief. He then insisted it could work which is when the employees informed him of a store that sold disposable helium tanks in hopes of getting rid of him.

Chainsaw Asshole was overheard by a bs correspondent telling an acquaintance outside McDonald's "that I get compliments for being the cleanest bum on the street. I take care myself, I take care of my clothes, I don't smell.." Our correspondent would like to point out that CA has an dingy Brillo pad for hair and smells so bad that people walk five to ten feet away from him. Another correspondent witnessed him pulling up his filthy once-white socks fastidiously.

Crazy Anne was heard, as always quite loudly, proclaiming "you're fucking up my menopause! YOU FUCKING RAPED ME!" This was followed by her equally well-known piece, "I asked you not to assault me! YOU ARE A CHILD MOLESTER! Don't touch me!" We would like to advise that you never make eye contact with her as she will follow you screaming "you raped me!"

A gentleman smelling distinctly of cigarettes and beer entered a store and began a $50 shopping spree, insisting he had to spend the full amount of $50 to the penny. This became quite a challenge when it was discovered he was .11 short of his goal. He became positively manic about spending the .11 and then insisted on his getting a free item.

EMP lady was sighted early one day screaming her namesake at Ashby BART but later that day she was spotted waiting for the bus, grumbling loudly.

Things begin to go awry

Berkeley has declared war on the Berkeley Street Society. As a direct result all of the relatively peaceful street folk are now angry too. The bum roundabout is in full effect with new bums turning up all the time and everyone is unhappy that Berkeley has decided that the best way to deal with BSS members is to alienate them all by ticketing, arresting, and attacking business owners that help the nicer ones. In the meantime the mean and ill ones still roam the streets shouting at random and businesses downtown continue to go out of business. Parking remains impossible to find and incredibly expensive. Isn't it strange that Berkeley somehow assumes that if they get rid of ALL the homeless people that business will somehow forget the dirty streets, the lack of public bathrooms, the smell of urine as a result, the lack of parking and general mistreatment by the city itself with its interminable permit process and minutiae? And of course, the city assumes somehow the public will forget that Berkeley has been synonymous with homeless since People's Park was created? Of course we are forgetting that BSS members show no inclination of leaving, mostly because where else do they have to go?

TRAVEL
Some of the BSS members have found the climate here unsuitable so some of them have been spotted testing the water in other areas. But they always return.
A panhandler recognized for regularly working the corner in front of BofA downtown was spotted in downtown San Francisco. It is known that he commutes from Oakland to Berkeley on Bart everyday, so it is only a little further to go to the City. It didn't take though, after two weeks he's back to running his hands through his hands muttering, "wantaginmechang" and yelling about smelling gas, "would someone turn the gas heater off?"

Chainsaw Asshole was also spotting touring the provinces, he was seen in Alameda of all places, pretending to be a completely normal shopper. Very mysterious.

We have also heard a wonderful tale about a gentlemen from Richmond called "the Backflip Guy." Apparently he runs into the local Jack in a Box to a table full of people and offers a fair exchange, he will perform a backflip in the restaurant for money and odd change. As the gentlemen is apparently very tall and rail thin this peaks most jaded twenty-something's interest. Money is thrown on the table and the gentlemen literally does a backflip in front of the table and lands in place. He flashes a gleaming smile and takes the money, disappearing as angry management tired of the display move from behind the counter.

Also brought to us by our bs correspondents is a tale of discord. Imagine a bart station in downtown san francisco and now picture on one side a musician trying to play the sax and on the other side a musician trying to play an Asian intrument that uses the bow. Imagine the reverb in the empty multi-floored space. Imagine the noise. Witness the battle of the BART musicians - each determined to make money off rush hour and neither willing to admit defeat.

BREAKING NEWS:
"I DON'T know who the Anti-Christ is!"

We continue to give to the community by this 2nd installment in our series of How-to's, titled:
HOW TO TELL THE "EAT MY TWAT" LADY FROM THE "EAT MY PUSSY" LADY

Well, first of all the Eat My Twat lady is a little white lady while the Eat My Pussy lady is a big black lady. They typically roam the same neighborhood but the EMT lady only yells her nickname when she is being arrested by the local constabulary. The EMP lady doesn't need a reason to yell. She is typically combative and profane and her most frequent target is women. She will make eye-contact and start screaming at the available victim to take their pussy out of there, to wash their pussy and to eat her pussy. By this point the veins are bulging in her neck and her eyes are red with rage. It is thought that perhaps Evil Old Woman is her mother, but this remains unconfirmed.

And to tie in to our previous article we include this shocking account, we bring you:
EYE-WITNESS
Flashback to year 2000, it was on the ac transit 51 and there was I, the EMP lady and this innocent little asian Cal student. The EMP lady was sitting in the back of the bus but I knew better, as did many people on the bus, so only the little Cal girl walked to the back of the bus and sat down in her vicinity. "I can smell your pussy! I can SMELL your pussy! You need to wash, bitch! You need to WASH your pussy! You bitch! STD BITCH! HERPES BITCH! EAT MY PUSSY BITCH!" During this I watched in horror and I was thankful it was not me, although the girl was terrified and fixed her eyes out the window, diligently trying not to hear the terrible things.

SIGHTINGS
Pumpkin lady has returned! After a month of no sightings we began to wonder but hark! There she was dancing on the sidewalk, her face smeared with makeup, muttering to herself, going crazy for all the world to see.

Smelly Claus I has accessorized! He now sports a snazzy mangled feather scotch-taped to his beanie hat. He took his time to lounge in the B of A circle so all may see his herniated baggy-panted grandeur. Later he was spotted sitting on a ledge ravaging a bag of Lays potato chips.

Manimal made a brief reappearance, arguing in public no less. But sadly she is back to hiding in her den once more.

Smile Guy, he of the cheerful demeanor and high-pitched squeal of girlish glee announced to us estastically that he had reached a benchmark. He is now the proud owner of 1500 bouncy balls. There is something telling about an needy wimp saying he collects balls.

Ms. Poopie Pants has been seen recently, casually strolling around in a variety of fashionable outfits, all of which are cleaner than her nickname. We particularly enjoyed the stunning button-up shirt used as a skirt.

The Cowboy has returned. He really really wants his dog back.

Omar Perro tried to hug children who are frightened of a scary smelly man and harassed a woman by telling he that she was dirty in a "sexy" voice.

A woman recognized by one of our bs correspondents as being completely crazy despite her neat clean appearance announced to passerby "you better get out of here you negros! I'll call the cops on you negros!" She always drags a little wheelie bag and carries a bright yellow bag. She also announced to another passer-by "you've got a lot of crazy bitches here in Berkeley." The passer-by refrained from mentioning to the woman that she was one of them.

An emaciated man who has obviously not shaved or had a haircut in years proceeded to crawl up Shattuck, pushing his backpack before him, his pants ever threatening to slide off. Everyone was visibly horrified.

A gentleman with a backpacking pack on proceeded to thoroughly investigate the $1 chinese food place's trash despite the owner's attempts to dissuade him.

One Street Society member attempted to stop a pedestrian in rush and when she did not stop he yelled after her, "Fine, call the cops on me for harassing you!" She looked back, totally bewildered.

Viva Bush was spotted with his head shaved and without his dog. We are told he visits it, whereever it is.

INTRODUCTIONS
You have probably seen Scab McMuffin in his daily trek to the McDonalds' downtown. He is marked by a large scab that takes up half his face. He must tear it open on a regular basis because it is frequently bloody and it amazingly NEVER heals. You can see Scab McMuffin walking in the car lane closest to the street, scarfing his McDonalds filth out of the bag. Typically he will finish it up on the corner and then disappear. This is a daily occurrence. We have never seen him anywhere else.

The Painter is most often found in his territory which is the area around College and Ashby. He is easily recognized with his bright purple hat and cart filled with art projects in progress. Frequently he is found on benches busily working away with some new project balanced on his tattered sweater covered belly.

Drinky Bill is a regular in downtown. He's quiet, especially when he's surreptitiously drinking out of a paper bag. He's easily recognized by his bulbous drinker's nose.
He likes to beg for change at various spots in the downtown area and he has a lot of friends that come up and talk to him. One of his more annoying habits involve him being sprawled in front of a business with his shoes off picking his feet.

SUCCESS!
We have found a public bathroom downtown. It is behind the Civic Center on Milvia and is, of course, not clearly marked and only open at odd hours. Look for the homeless people going in and out and then you've found it.

BSS loves you

Salutations BSS subscribers!
We regret that we took a two week hiatus to spend some quality time dumpster diving in these choice weeks that mark the end of the university semester and the beginning of summer. We found some new broken furniture but it was a betrayal because it took time away from you, our beloved readers. So we regret that we let some new paintings come between us. We're shameless whores, but we've come back to our first love - the reporting on Berkeley wingnut incidents. We're on the frontlines of Berkeley freakdom for you. You owe us.

I must take the time to spin you a tragic tale of Berkeley called the ballad of the Cowboy and his dog. First the cowboy's dog was taken away in a false confrontation in which the animal was accused of biting someone. Then when the Cowboy, in a fit of self-sacrifice and realization gave up his dog for adoption at the local animal shelter, we were deeply saddened. Everyday the Cowboy had to put up with passers-by who recognized him asking after his lost puppy. Finally, he had had it with Berkeley. The loss of his dog and the constant harassment by Berkeley police with tickets for loitering, for smoking, for just being homeless in a world where homicidal maniacs own houses. In the Berkeley Street Society we have no end of members that suffer mental illness, the Cowboy was one of them but unlike the rest, he kept himself under control. He knew he was not all there and worked with it. He never begged. Never peed in a doorway. Never beat his dog. Never screamed at passerby. Never littered. And he was driven away for being homeless, leaving us with such sterling examples of BSS such as Omar Perro and Ring Man, both highly recognizable members that harass the public on a daily basis. So Berkeley, where is your heart? We would like to see the members who are dangerous to the community get help, but those who are not taking away, how are they a threat?

Breaking news:
Take the twine! We need the twine!

Sightings:
Omar Perro was very frisky in recent weeks. We had no end of sightings of him poking his head in doorways where he was unwanted, harassing fellow bums with his jocularity and the best incident was this week, when he decided to harass an elderly french man who spoke little to no english. Following him closely, Omar Perro loudly announced to the gentleman, "I'm Hitler! I'm Hitler!" The poor man was afraid and not sure if he was being insulted. Finally lookers on proceeded to rescue the man causing Omar to charge in a rage.

One of our bs correspondents happened to see this little gem of an interaction>
In a downtown Berkeley store we saw a morbidly obese woman harassing a clerk endlessly with questions about items and prices, all the while sounding as though she had a loaf of bread in her mouth. Her hygiene was rather dubious as well, when we noted the dried rice encrusted at the apex of her mammoth stomach. She was in the process of showing her love for her "boyfriend Orlando" by buying him tokens of her gargantuan love. We can't help wondering if "Orlando" helps her wash in all the hard to reach places.

Denture guy was up to his old tricks trying to enter downtown stores in search of dentures. It mattered not what the store actually sold, he was going to find something that he could use for dentures, be it wax lips or teeth covers!

Ring Man happily cavorted down streets, rolled around at his sleeping spot across from Starbucks on Oxford and particularly enjoyed yelling profanity into store entrances delighting employees everywhere downtown.

Of late there have been a number of articles in the local papers discussing that delightful society of bicyclists known as Critical Mass. They are merely any gathering of people that wish to commandeer the streets in protest of smog causing gas consuming vehicles. We've invited one of our bs correspondents to answer the question, why has Critical Mass been subjected to so much criticism recently? -
It seems to me that Critical Mass is in trouble. What is wrong with Critical Mass? I'll tell you what's wrong - assholes!
The majority of bicyclists that join Critical Mass bike rides, normally the last friday of the month in any city or town that chooses to start one, are peaceful folks having a green goody-twoshoes powertrip. It's the assholes that infiltrate a movement and turn out sour. These so called anarchists are apparently pissants who hate the idea of a peaceful demonstration in which everyone has a good time. When Critical Mass rides up University and makes a leisurely victory lap at the intersection of University and Shattuck no one really minds. Everyone is amused. It's when the bulk of the group has moved off down Shattuck and a couple of BMXers are still doing wheelies in the middle of the street and some other guys decide to sit on their ass on their bike in front some car, blocking traffic. Then a couple of assholes decide to push their luck and do a couple more victory laps. Honking obviously ensues. Tensions rise. Road rage occurs. I say to these assholes, fuck off!
We don't need your supposed earth-lovin vindictiveness. And I certainly don't want your holier-than-thou attitude blocking my pedestrian rights at a green light again.

The horror of when your workplace is turned into a sexually charged environment against your will! What is your recourse! Why aren't you allowed to use mace on the general public!? When will your bosses issue you a standard taser?! BSS is proud to bring you again -
EYE-WITNESS
What do you do when someone gets turned on by the thought of getting caught in public with a boner? Then what do you do when this person enters your place of work? And rests his rod on your counter? A man, or a man-child, entered the store wearing extremely saggy jeans that looked a trifle odd. That might have been because his zipper was open and a mysterious red jersey swathed object was standing at attention. Obviously he wanted all of us to salute it because he was extremely polite, taking trouble to start conversations with everyone in the store, bouncing a bit on his heels in hopes it would draw our eye. He was very polite but obviously very excited. Finally, impatient that no one had yet shrieked and yelled, "oh my god his penis is hanging out of his pants!" he walked up to the counter and said, oh so suggestively, "Oh no, I forgot my belt today and my pants are just coming off!"
We have the pepper spray waiting, bucko.
Just try it again.

Introductions:

You may have seen him around town - the Mole Man. He's one of those genuine Berkeley characters, a man of short stature dressed in a uniform of his own devising. We have never seen him without his giant furry boots, skin tight black leggings, huge black leather jacket, belt with lightsaber and other accessories, crash helmet and aviator goggles. He doesn't bathe either so he's very noticable in close quarters. So far no one we know has had a bad incident with him, but he draws the eye to be sure.

It is not a man, it is a beast, a putridfaction in human form, a creature we can only call the Stench. Imagine uncleaned latrines, dead animals and the scent of old urine in Berkeley doorways and you come somewhere near the smell of this man. At least we think it was a man. He wore so many layers of clothing that he appeared mummified. Any attempted interaction with him resulted in him tweedling a miniture recorder on a string around his neck. The smell rolling off him was so incredible we could hardly understand how didn't pass out from the stench of his own body. People were fleeing from him in all directions. His stench is embedded in our mind for all time. Beware him. Shun him. Avoid him. For he is, the Stench!!

In which we identify a number of threats to Berkeley's quality of life

We have lately been blessed with a number of days during which Berkeley's weather has been warm, if not decidedly hot. It is during these hot days that, wherever you walk on the streets, an aroma that is normally merely an undercurrent comes full force to your attention. For the faint of heart I warn you, I speak of the pervasive stench of aged dried pools of urine! It is everywhere, on every block, in every other front yard, especially in every recess and corner of downtown streets. Those hoping to use the payphone, beware, for the stench is there as well. No rain can manage to erase the rivers of yellow that the innocent sidewalks have absorbed for years, perhaps decades, and so on any beautiful day Berkeley will be forever associated with strong odor of ammonia.

We bs correspondents are happy to inform our readers that the Cowboy was reunited with his dog this week to great joy and improved mental health. It is also with mixed feelings we must share that Manimal has returned but has renounced her mantle of crime-fighter, feeling that such enforcement is better left to the constables. We miss you Manimal.

For those of our readers who enjoy the tales of those who wander the streets of Berkeley, forever searching, we are happy to bring you another installment of:
IN SEARCH OF A BATHROOM, pt 3
A woman and her teenage daughter entered the store and were looking around at the merchandise. They wandered into the back of the store and frankly did not gain my attention, being in general quiet and well-behaved customers. Suddenly, the mother ran up to the front counter and asked, "Do you have a bathroom?"
To which we employees looked at each other for we have to clean our own bathroom and so are very particular who gets to use our facilities. As we hesitated, the teenage daughter had come up from the back of the store and, without any preamble, spectacularly upchucked all over the card rack. It was extremely watery and drippy and formed large pools of slime everywhere. we turned to the mother and said, "why didn't you say it was an emergency?!" There is very little hesitation on our part when our carpet is at stake. She merely apologized and horrified, whisked her daughter from the store before we could say more.

Why are there so many SMELLY CLAUSES?
Berkeley has too many fat smelly disgusting horrible white men. They all look and smell alike! With their filthy white beards and problematic habit of trying to pick up college age women these men are a threat to Berkeley as we know it! There are so many of them that we bs correspondents had to develop a numbering system. Smelly Claus #3 came to our attention recently when he entered a store, threw his jacket on the floor and proceeded to throw merchandise on the floor. When asked to pick up his jacket, he replied he had no jacket. Ultimately he was kicked out of the store for making a mess and being a general psycho. He left his jacket so it was also thrown out of the store.
Later that day he returned in a new blue jacket insisting he had to buy something. After making a minor purchase he walked out to a double parked car and proceeded, irregardless of the driver, to attempt to shove his receipt through the car window seam. What will make the constabulary realize that Smelly Clauses are a threat.

Breaking news -
Without his sideburns, he'd be nothing!

It's been a busy week for the local constabulary and so we have for you:
Sightings-
Our favorite lady, Need for Speed, was apparently a little too full of mullet-activated aggression after being released from custody for the umpteenth time. That afternoon the constables took her in again, treating us all to a verbal work of ear-searing rage.

Dreadful, known for his tremendous dreads, was spotted wandering and moaning down the street bringing a welcome end to his muttering phase.

A BSS member known as the Laugher was spotted twice doing what he is known for. To apparently trigger his laughter he must throw down his blanket anywhere on a public street downtown, throw himself on it, and then he catnaps and wakes himself up by laughing hysterically for no obvious reason.

Smile guy, he of the squeaky voice and happy go lucky temperament, has been awarded honorary BSS member by us bs correspondents after he rebuked us for not smiling for the thousandth time. You may have seen him humming his way down the street on several occasions.

Dr. Bombay has added to his current wardrobe some Morris dancing bells at his ankles. Which we appreciate the warning (we now can hear him from two blocks off, versus the one block when the wind was blowing his stench in our direction)he does create a rather comical appearance with his ridiculously over sized new sneakers, ankle bells, pimp cane, layers of clothing, and three hats included the carefully balanced baby blue New York Yankees ball cap.

the Schizo made several appearances this week, the best of which was the one in which she entered a store, bought two different single sheets of stationary and then stapled them together with the receipt several times.

A gentleman has been brought to our attention by the employees of a local store. They claim this man comes in every other week and proceeds to try out all of the party horns, not content with buying a pack or soiling merely one with his saliva. After careful selection, which can last upwards of five minutes of tweedling, he purchases his new treasured possession.