The Beer Retard - August 31st, 2004

I despise going the dentist, but the guy I go to is fucking cool. He's the only dentist I know who'd play Jimi Hendrix or Maggot Brain by Funkadelic while he's giving you a filling. If you've never had a dentist drill into your tooth with Maggot Brain playing really loud, let me tell you it's a surreal experience. We usually talk about music in between his administration of punishment, but yesterday he switched gears on me. He told me the story of how his wife had kind of pressured him into moving to the suburbs and that he regrets that his kids were raised in that kind of environment (where there were a whole lotta haves and no have-nots) instead of the city where there's more diversity and a less sheltered experience. He didn't come right out and say it, but he hinted that he thinks his kids are too soft.

He also talked about the time he had to give a speech at some professional day at his daughter's high school. Evidently, he showed up dressed in medical scrubs and started to talk about being a dentist and all that. Then he ripped off the scrubs and revealed his Black Panther uniform underneath which he finished off by grabbing a beret out of his back pocket, slipping it on and giving the Black Power salute. It goes without saying that the kids were pretty blow away. He then went on to detail his past as a revolutionary. Pretty crazy shit, I tell you. I was sort of blown away myself.

A final interesting detail I learned while sitting in the chair is that my dentist is the first black man to have a successful dental practice in the Financial District of SF. Others have tried and failed, but he was able to make it work. He said that he still has to deal with prejudice, though. Sometimes, when a new patient is referred to him and doesn't know he's black, he says he can see the uncertainty in their eyes. A black dentist? Can he possibly do a good job, they're thinking. I told him I thought that was fucked up and that I guess society hasn't come very far even in a place like SF. He agreed that it was fucked up.

He also gave me a good recomendation for an acupuncturist in the city. What can I say? My dentist is a fucking cool guy. I still wish I didn't have to go to him but twice a year for cleanings. But I'll bet he's the only dentist/doctor I'll ever have who I actually consider making a mixtape for.

Later this afternoon....an entry on how no one at my work has heard of the Ramones.

Okay, so maybe I exaggerated at the end of my last post. It wouldn't be entirely truthful to say that no one at my work has heard of the Ramones. And we're not exactly talking about people that are well-versed in rock n' roll or punk or anything like that. These are mostly conservative, middle-aged folks who could care less about most of the things I hold dear. Still, I was pretty shocked to find out just how ignorant these people are.

It happened yesterday at about 3pm. We have this lame tradition of celebrating peoples' birthdays by serving up a cake from Just Desserts and sitting in a conference room and talking for 45 minutes. There are 11 employees in our little library and 3 of them were gone for whatever reason. So it was me, my boss and 5 other co-workers. Man, do I hate shit like this especially when the focus is on me. I'd been to the dentist a few hours before and the novocaine hadn't worn off yet, so I chose not to enjoy the sugary, diabetes-inducing goodness. I could still talk, though, so I didn't get out of the obligatory sharing of details of my birthday weekend.

First I regaled them with the details of the Anchor Brewery tour on Friday and the excellent dinner at Geranium on Saturday. Then I mentioned that I'd spent Sunday afternoon seeing End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones. My boss's immediate reaction was a puzzled look and the question: "who are the Ramones?" My guileless ass had to respond loudly in a surprised tone with "you've never heard of the Ramones!!!" Not exactly a winner of a response when directed at your boss. She seemed a little offended and I had to sort of apologize and let her know I didn't mean to be critical, but I was surprised that she hadn't heard of them. Three other people at the table were similarly baffled as to what the hell a Ramone was. The remaining three exhibited lukewarm signs of recognition.

One lady had heard of them but had never actually heard their music. Another lady had heard of them and could barely contain her look of disdain. Finally, one guy (a little bit younger than me) gave me hope by saying that he'd heard that the documentary was really good and that he might see it. Giving him what turned out to be too much credit, I enthusiastically talked about the film and told him he should definitely see it. The motherfucker then dashed my hopes and put my rising estimation of him in the toilet by saying "I can't really stand the Ramones' music, but I heard the film is interesting." Okay, then... I'm not sure how anyone can not stand the Ramones, but maybe this guy doesn't have a rock n' roll bone in his body.

So that, in a nutshell, is what I deal with at work on a daily basis. It's no wonder I'm miserable despite having Fridays off and being able to listen to music all day. May my next job be among my own people. Or at least something a little closer to my people. End of the Century is great, by the way. One of the best music documentaries I've ever seen. But maybe I'm biased because I'm a punk who likes the Ramones.