Cardinals have lost the last six. The A’s lost their last three, even though any win would have clinched it. I’m sorry.

I forgot that I was thinking about this all week. Today is 45 days before the November 7 election. Yes, it’s a midterm election, but here in California we’re electing (or re-electing) a governor, a lieutenant governor, secretary of state, controller, treasurer, attorney general, insurance commissioner, and members of the state board of equalization, the last of which I honestly don’t have any clue what they do (all position links PDF). There are also 13 statewide propositions and a number of local measures and offices up for grabs. Obviously, the fervor isn’t as great as for an election year and even the governor’s race seems a little muted. I actually think compared to the Angelides-Westly kerfuffle, the Angelides-Schwarzenegger race is somehow less exciting. Arnold’s making deals with the Dems in the state legislature and I don’t think Angelides is getting the visibility he needs to win (or look like he’d be interested in winning). Perhaps, I just need to tune in - but I’m gonna need a push.

The AP via MSNBC.com is reporting that the US fatalities in Afghanistan and Iraq have now equaled (and then swiftly exceeded) the number of people killed on September 11. By any analysis, that’s a tragedy and it’s sad to realize that that figure is only going to increase. The problem with the story, of course, is that by folding the numbers of lives lost in Iraq and Afghanistan, the AP and MSNBC aren’t doing much to keep the distinction clear between those two theaters that technically have nothing to do with each other. Iraq isn’t really about the war on terror or 9/11 so why imply that it is? Other grisly figures include 2,390 who died at Pearl Harbor and, inexplicably, the 405,399 lost by the U.S. in World War II. Of course, the story concedes:

“Historians note that this grim accounting is not how the success or failure of warfare is measured, and that the reasons for conflict are broader than what served as the spark.”

The first part I totally agree with, but nice that the second part only serves to further confuse the issues. Good reporting, guys.

The magic number for the A’s is 4. The magic number for the Cardinals is 5. That’s the World Series I want. I’m pretending I haven’t jinxed it.

And not only is San Francisco the second “smartest” city in America, hometown Oakland the 18th, and most populus city in the metro area San Jose 15th, but those cities are also on the list of priciest places for renters. San Francisco lands at #2 (behind NYC and its wowza $2,469 average monthly rents), San Jose at #4, and even Oakland’s freaking out the renters at #7. It’s lovely that California has 6 of the top ten. I chalk it up to the weather.

Finally, I bought 14 books last night. I have a serious problem.

Update - 9/23, 12:19 am: The A’s magic number is now 2. Even better.

Just read that Ann Richards passed away tonight. I have been a fan of Ann Richards since I first got into politics as a high schooler in the 90s (even though I couldn’t care less about Texas politics) and was bummed when she lost to W in `94. The essential Ann Richards must include her priceless appearance on King of the Hill as Bill’s love interest.

In a way, most Muni stories are slightly trivial. I mean, they’re just about how much the bus sucks, retellings of inconveniences that pale in comparison to local social and political turmoil or any of the international crises of the day. But when you’re just trying to live your life and get from place to place with relative efficiency and Muni incompetence sets up a barrier, in those moments, these are to you the most important things on the planet.

A week ago, I had to go play a soccer game out at West Sunset (aka Jim Lucey Fields) at 39th Ave and Quintara. I had never been, but based on the Muni system map and the schedule on 511, the L-Taraval was my best bet. It went straight from the financial district where I worked (from Embarcadero station) out to an L-Taraval stop at 40th Ave and Taraval, a mere four blocks from the field. Getting home looked promising, with the 48-Quintara traveling right from 39th and Quintara to half a mile from my home. Unfortunately, when I looked up the 48’s schedule, I discovered it stopped running between those points at about 6:45 p.m., which fits, of course, with Muni’s bizarre determination that rush hour is long over by then. But I figured I could take the L to Forest Hill Muni Metro Station, which is what I do (going outbound) to get home every day, and there are four buses I can take, one that gets me 3 blocks from my home and three that get me half a mile from my home, followed by a relatively easy walk.

Knowing that 511.org estimated a 43 minute trip (including walking time), I left work at 5:45 and booked it to the Embarcadero station, knowing that either the 5:51 L or the 5:57 L would do the trick, but also knowing that 511.org and the Muni schedule are both kind of full of crap. In a stroke of Muni luck, I only had to wait through one train before an L pulled up. The first sign of trouble, though, was when the destination signs read “Sunset Blvd.” instead of “47th Ave-Zoo.” I recalled Sunset’s location from the map and guessed it was probably an extra block’s walk and would be a fine end of the line for me. I boarded and took a seat.

The second sign of trouble was that the car kept stopping in the tunnels - more than usual. And going really slow. The last couple weeks, the Muni Metros have been crawling along between Castro and Forest Hill, requiring me to leave work about 5 minutes earlier every day to avoid missing the connecting bus and either waiting in the cold or trekking from Forest Hill. But this ride was different in that we were slow and stopping between every station, though not a peep about it came from our driver. However, by the time we left Castro, every in-tunnel stop, which sometimes felt as if they were as little as a few yards apart, was met with a collective exasperated sigh from the passengers.

When we got to West Portal, I was a little excited. I’d never been out that far on the L line, though I’m not sure why I was such a dork about emerging from the underground into the sunlight. I’ve taken the N to Golden Gate Park a million times from downtown and the J all over when I used to live in Noe Valley. But alas, this was new territory on the L. I relaxed and sat back to enjoy the ride as I realized there was a long way to go.

Unfortunately, the stop and go nature of our trip did not change once we were out on the street. At first I chalked it up to the fact that the road equals cars and traffic and stop signs and stop lights and pedestrians, but clearly something else was up. That something was never revealed to the passengers, but at 24th Ave and Taraval the driver announced that he was turning around and we all had to get off the streetcar. No explanations, no apologies, just get off the bus. That collective exasperation had morphed into a slightly more hostile irritation and frustration by this point, but there was nothing we could do other than disembark and watch as the train backed up, switched to the tracks on the other side of the double yellows, and receded from view.

I surmised it was too far to walk and I had seen another L close behind us a few blocks earlier. It eventually caught up to us, and we boarded. We eventually made it to 40th and Taraval, and I walked the four blocks to the field, arriving a little over an hour after I started my journey and cursing the L to anyone who would listen.

After a lovely time playing soccer until the sun went down, I trudged back to 40th and Taraval to catch the inbound to Forest Hill. I got there at 8:17 p.m., allegedly just missing the 8:16 L with one scheduled to arrive at 8:28 and another at 8:43. I know the Muni schedule cannot even be considered loosely associated with  reality at most points in time, but at night when the traffic is a little less heavy, Muni can sometimes hew a little closer to its published timetables. Though not so much this time.

I knew the L was supposed to come every 15 minutes, and seeing none just missed down the road I was optimistic, also supported by the fact that there was another person already waiting. I have no idea where this naïveté sprung from, but it was knocked out of me in due course. I waited. And then I waited some more. Five, ten, fifteen minutes went by without a hint of an inbound L. Then twenty, then twenty-five. Finally, after approximately 30 minutes in the cold and about 12 minutes after I decided I should spend my time listening to Nightcrawler and getting to love it and twenty minutes after I decided to stop calling Matt to bother him, the L rolled up to the stop. The best part, as you may suspect, about all this was that there were four outbound Ls that roared by in the other direction. Four!

Of course, the ride to Forest Hill on the empty, nearly nine p.m. streets of Parkside was s . . . l . . . o . . . w. We eventually made it to the station, and I was lucky enough to wait only briefly for a 43-Masonic, which got me halfway home, and walking through the door just after 9:30 p.m.

So to recap, I spent about 130 minutes of Muni related transit to get about 70 minutes of soccer in. Not very practical or efficient. I love soccer, but if over two hours of transit time is required, I better be crossing a bridge or at least the city limits.

So this past Wednesday, I had to make the trek to West Sunset again. Swearing off the L, which may be dead to me now, I chose to thumb my nose at the bus system I would desperately love to support, but can’t because that would require me to sacrifice my own sanity. I parked as close as I could without getting into permit parking territory to Glen Park BART Station (about an 8 minute walk) in the morning, and jumped in my car after work, having left just after 5:50 p.m. Total transit time to the park was just under 50 minutes, but about 5 of that involved me turning the wrong way after being freaked out by a minor traffic jam and having to double back. After playing, I was home in less than half an hour (which included chatting afterwards), which drive interestingly also involved a wrong turn, that might actually have been a short-cut, but it was really foggy so I could never reproduce the effort.

In the end, I learned my lesson. How could I forget that this is the same Muni that can’t figure out how to not inconvenience thousands of people on Giants’ game days, the same Muni whose drivers I have witnessed yelling at young kids and old people and blowing by women with babies at stops, the same Muni that is so unpredictable that I rarely bother to check the schedule before standing out on the corner, the same Muni that at least once every week-and-a-half or so I give up on and walk the steep 20 minutes to Glen Park in the morning rather than wait out the bus? If only they wouldn’t make it sound so damn easy to just hop on the bus and go.

So I generally find Slate’s Hot Document relatively amusing in general, but tonight’s post by Timothy Noah is hilarious. It examines some forthcoming books that have taken a page from the book of Ann Coulter, you know the “hot” insane conservative who says ludicrous things she can’t possibly mean, like insulting 9/11 widows, except maybe she does mean them, which would be kinda scary. Anywho, Noah looks at some forthcoming books (sure to be best-sellers and get their authors more time on the cable news talk circuit) that go on ludicrous, liberal-bashing tears. Noah dots the summaries from the publishers with delightfully funny annotations that poke at the complete fallacies of logic and falsification of fact that - at least according to the blurbs - permeate these texts. The rollover to read the snarky comments is a pain as it never leaves the notes up long enough, but your hard work is rewarded.

A few days ago, I finished The Confessions of Max Tivoli by Andrew Sean Greer. I launched into this book on the basis that I feel like I don’t read enough local authors. I definitely - in my head - support local artists, local authors, local press, etc., but sometimes it hard to put that into practice. So I did, and I was rewarded for my, you know, doing what I should be doing.

I knew the general plot going in, but the details of it still kind of hit you. However, once you get used to the conceit - the story of a man who is living life in reverse, born as an old man and growing ever younger - the story itself is engrossing. The entire concept and its execution result in a rather sad tale, not just for Max, but for those around him who know and who don’t know about his condition. Greer writes Max as a person with an element of selfishness that’s striking, given that he’s such an inherently sympathetic character. Of course, there’s a sense that Max has almost earned the right to be a bit careless with other people’s hearts.

One aspect of the novel that I found utterly endearing was the late 1800s, early 1900s San Francisco setting. I’m a sucker for history and nods to neighborhoods past and present and the interweaving of meaningul events added something extra that I particularly enjoyed. In fact, I think I’m going to go out and walk the Barbary Coast Trail, which I never quite had any context for until I read this book.

While there are plenty of predictable moments, there are also genuine surprises, sweet exchanges, and a few perfectly goofy episodes. I laughed, I cried, well, not really, but the story does inspire a whole range of emotions, and I’ll have the explore the other works of Andrew Sean Greer. But not stalk him. (I kid because I love.)

That isn’t really an apt title, but I’m not referencing the Simpsons enough so that’s what you get.

Anyway, apparently San Francisco is the second smartest city in the U.S. This according to CNNMoney.com based on 50.1% of San Francisco’s over 25 population having bachelor degrees. The list is a little skewed by only counting cities with over 250,000 so it excludes any Eurekas, but the Bay Area was (of course) nicely represented with San Jose at #15 (36.1%) and my hometown Oakland also made the top 20 at #18 (33.8%). [via Gawker]

It’d be interesting to see in ten years what those figures are, given the rise of the importance of college education in employability (or at least skilled employability). But then again there are plenty of jobs that don’t require a college education.

Figures of college grads always surprise me, in the sense of seeming low, given that when I graduated from college in the last decade, at my high school, college was a big deal. We had a big evil board in the admin building listing various schools and all the students who got into them. Of course, multiple admissions made the list look better than it really was. It also meant that everyone knew where you got in and could share their unsolicited opinions about that. I know it’s not like that everywhere and it probably wasn’t even like that at my high school ten years before I graduated. I kinda wonder what it’s like at my alma mater now.