Berkeley, Pride of the Third Interdimension Realm of Zion Zegnotron

San Francisco is that unstable, self-obsessed friend of yours that you can't ditch because she's fun and crazy and so damn HOT.

Berkeley is her schizophrenic, funky-smelling brother who long ago ceased his futile attempts at carving out a place in civilized society, in the belief that society was really the crazy one.

Say hello to Berkeley:

Earlier this decade, every day this gentleman demanded that Japan pony up reparations for slaughtering millions of Chinese, and informed the world that the Dalia Lama was a criminal slaveholder. But now, like many of his neighbors in Berkeley, he feels Israel is the number one enemy of civilization.

He faces the University of California's busiest thoroughfare, where Telegraph ends and feeds into Sproul Plaza. At lunchtime, it's a zoo. By 4:30pm it's a ghost town, but our friend spares no enthusiasm from his precarious perch.

If someone questions his position, he'll point at them and yell "CIA! Disgusting! CIA! Disgusting!" But usually he just chants "Happy happy happy." And he mutters, "Isn't that nice? Everyone so happy." Sarcasm becomes him.

Sarcasm becomes Berkeley. Berkeley is outwardly focused and utterly powerless in the world. No matter how many municipal resolutions he passes to impeach Bush or pull troops from Iraq, he can't do a damn thing about any of the evils that occur beyond the city limits. So he wails and he chants. Everyone thinks he's nuts, and usually he is. But occasionally society's just as nuts, and it's then that Berkeley sits back and smiles and commits to carrying on.

Comments

[Podgers]

San Francisco was more like the hot, artsy, rich girl who wouldn't return my calls.

[Josh]

Man, I remember that guy from my days as a Berkeley grad student ('96-'99). My favorite sign of his read "THE DALAI LAMA SAT ON A THRONE MADE OF HUMAN SKULLS." He's looking a little worse for wear.

My favorite Berkeley freak, though, was this guy we called "Frank Sinatra". He was a tall kind of unkempt white guy in a battered suit and fedora who had a microphone that was connected to a coffee can, and he stood on Lower Sproul and sang (EXTREMELY badly -- like, it almost had to be on purpose, that's how bad it was) old 50s standards, and would catcall at women who walked by. The best thing about him was that he rode the same bus I did every morning, and he sat quietly with his coffee can on his lap and wasn't the least bit insane. It's like he was commuting to his day job as a street lunatic. I imagined him going home to his totally ordinary wife and kids. "How was your day, honey?" "Oh, pretty good, I got some really good lunacy in today."

jf

[ccw]

And DC is San Francisco's pretty but uptight cousin who studies constantly and won't date me because it would distract her from her focus on getting into Yale Law. Her only sexual release is her bimonthly riding of the amiable dumb jock, Pittsburgh.

[jjm]

San Francisco is like the Prius owner in South Park that loves the smell of his own farts.

Berkeley, well, Berkeley, in addition to being its own adjective, is like that old musty couch on your college front porch - great views, lots of character, but it smells a bit and you really don't want to dig beneath the cushions.

[Steaks & Chops]

That wasn't "Frank Sinatra!" It was the world-famous Rick Starr. UC ought to rescind your diploma.

[Patrick]

In my first trip to Berkeley last month, I took about four pictures of this guy. I walked up in front of him to see what his board was all about and took a picture of him and he pointed a gnarled finger at me at said "CIA CIA CIA".

I loved it. Shit, where I went to school you had to sign up to use one of the designated "free speech areas" (unless you were a barnstorming evangelist...they get to yell their fairy tales wherever they want to). I love that this wacky dude stands on his bucket with this random shit on his board on campus and no one gives a fuck about it.

That's freedom of speech for you!