Ben Carson gentle, folksy — and totally unqualified
For all the attention on Dr. Ben Carson’s appearance in San Francisco the other night, you’d think the guy was a serious-minded politician. He’s not. But he is very much a serious candidate for president.
Like his polar opposite and fellow Republican candidate, the bombastic Donald Trump, the mild-mannered retired neurosurgeon has the role of the political outsider honed down to a T.
Neither one has ever held elected office, and they’re both proudly ignorant of the finer details of policymaking. Chances are they’d both flunk high school civics.
Carson’s audience at the Commonwealth Club last week loved him. Too bad he knows nothing about national security or government. He’s such a nice,
charming, folksy guy that he can get away with zero performance. But once he’s asked about international issues, he’s gone.
Gov. Jerry Brown’s big push to cut gas usage in California in half in the next 15 years was the wrong move aimed at the wrong targets: you and me.
It’s one thing to go after big businesses and utilities. It’s another to tell the state’s drivers that they’re going cut their gas consumption in half, without saying how you plan to do it.
The oil companies used the shortage of details in the big gas-cut legislation, SB350, to kick the life out of the bill, saying it would lead to rationing. No matter how hard the governor tried, he couldn’t counter the argument.
He gave them the club and they used it.
Climate change is important if you’re running for president. Transportation is the important thing for state voters. If you want to be an effective governor, you can’t just be out to save the world — you’ve got to fix the potholes as well.
On both counts, Brown hit the skids this time out.
I was sitting in North Beach restaurant the other evening with mayoral spokesman P.J. Johnston and his wife, Karin, when who should walk in but one of the town’s biggest developers, obviously running late to some meeting.
I watched him disappear into the back and recalled that about two weeks before, another developer — Oz Erickson — told me about an event for Mayor Ed Lee’s $310 million housing bond on the November ballot.
I asked a waiter if the guy who just walked past had gone into the basement dining room.
“Yeah, there are 40 people down there, including the mayor,” the waiter said.
I sat back and had a slow finish to the meal, then watched as just about every major builder in the city came up those stairs and left the restaurant.
From what I hear, the basement gathering raised a cool $1.2 million for the Proposition A bond campaign.
The recent heat wave sent dining patrons scurrying for the city’s hotel restaurants, me included. They aren’t hip, but they are air-conditioned, so you don’t walk out feeling like you just finished working a shift in the kitchen.
My pick was the Big 4 Restaurant at the Huntington Hotel. I had the chicken pot pie. The coolness of the room more than made up for overly heavy potato presence in the pie.
On Sunday night I was in the mood for some jazz and blues, so I rolled over to the Elite Cafe at Fillmore and California. They have the absolute best pork chop in San Francisco. They serve it Southern-style, thin, on a bed of scalloped potatoes, all ringed with Brussels sprouts.
No air conditioning, but it was worth it.
Police Chief Greg Suhr and his new bride, Wendy, had their reception at the General’s Residence at Fort Mason the other night. I think every living ex-San Francisco cop was there. Some even flew in from around the country.
I left and rode down along the Embarcadero, where the police had set up an immense DUI checkpoint, complete with the command center van.
All I could think of was how many of their onetime brother and sister officers they might be seeing later in the night.
Movie time: “Mistress America.” I would never have selected it as a film to go to, but again, lured by the thought of spending two hours in an airconditioned theater, I ducked in. My reward was a real gem.
This is a sophisticated drama about four people’s quest to open a restaurant. It has great writing and a smart cast, none of whom looks the least bit Hollywood.
“The Transporter Refueled.” The plot line of this latest installment of the “Transporter” series is too preposterous even for me. It’s like one big ad for Audi, with unbelievable car stunts.
Billy Joel put on quite a show at AT&T Park. Of course, I couldn’t really hear him, because he was drowned out by everyone around me singing every word to every song.
The best political dig of the week came from Gov. Bobby Jindal of Louisiana, talking Trump.
The Donald doesn’t read the Bible, Jindal said, because he’s not in it.