Blog

Manifesto #14: Residencies

There are four Residency quadrants: STAFF, OTHER RESIDENTS, SHARED SPACES, and SELF. Remain in SELF quadrant as much as possible.

There are only four Residency quadrants! Rumors of TOWN quadrant are a trap do not ever go to town.

STAFF: Do not approach STAFF. Do not in person ever request anything from STAFF. All requests are done using the Clipboard of Requests did you even read the residency manual? Do not speak to STAFF unless spoken to even then do not speak to STAFF unless asked specifically by STAFF why you aren’t speaking to STAFF and only then is it permissible to speak to STAFF. Briefly.

STAFF may try to trick you into speaking to STAFF. Do not be tricked by STAFF.

SHARED SPACE:
1: For fuck’s sake don’t put cardamom pods in the goddamn coffee grinder. 2: It is correct to assume everyone wants to listen to your music. 3: Yes the coffee in the pot was in fact brewed specifically for you. 4: Don’t put your dishes away—someone else will. 5: It is encouraged to leave copies of your work around for others to enjoy and then definitely ask: See my work there? Did you read it yet? Oh? Did you like it?

OTHER RESIDENTS: You may ask only, “How is the work going?” Never answer this question truthfully. Interactions with OTHER RESIDENTS are thusly limited to “How is the work going?” “Great! How is the work going?” “Not bad. Hey, how is the work going?” “I had a fucking great day, I just killed it, how is the work going?”

NO! That last was a test! Never say, “I had a fucking great day, I just killed it.” Unless lying.

SELF (1): Set clearly defined work goals. Chart these well-defined goals. Affix various goal charts on wall. Spend time reconsidering them. Take a nap. Yawn. Snort. Wake up. Sigh. What was SELF doing? Ah, the charts. Lovely charts! Hmm. How might the charts possibly change? How ’bout those axes? Pie, maybe? Perhaps bar? The charting and recharting and even uncharting of goals may become a replacement to actual time spent on work goals. This is encouraged.

SELF (2): Definitely intend to change all your consumption and exercise habits that’ll work lol. Bring all the books you’ve intended to read in the past year. Display them prominently so they look nice in their month-long resting spot. Bring several self-flagellation whips. Share the extra whips, explaining their use, encouraging others. How about a morning group whip session? Whap. How is the work going? Whap. Well how about the charts? Those suck, too? Whap, whap. Ah fuck it, smoke a cigarette, drink another beer hey you bought whiskey, nice, sure! WHAP. Oh I had a great fucking day, I just KILLED it! Want to see my charts WHAP!? How are the WHAPWHAP charts going? Did you do your Tuesday chart? Whap What Whap? How can you even know if you’re whap getting anywhere if you haven’t set a clear whap goal, if you haven’t whap told yourself what it is you hope to even do?

Keith, Hadji, and the best litter box in the world

This morning, we woke to quite an off-putting smell wafting through our house. We crinkled our noses. We frowned. We glared at each other accusingly. Our eyes watered. Reluctantly, we got out of bed and dressed, we wanted the halls of the house, our faces pinched, our noses held high, sniffing at the air…

Then we came to The Litter Box Room.

Sure, we love our cats. But it doesn’t matter: The Litter Box Room is gross. We’re sick of The Litter Box Room. Of the litter boxes. Of the litter always kicked all over the place, no matter what type of mat we situate beneath the box. Of the poop and the pee, especially the poop and pee of our once-street cat who can’t aim to save his life.

This smelly morning, we gazed up into the darkness and wondered, Why even have cats? We saw ourselves as the creatures, driven and derided by vanity; and our eyes burned with anguish and anger and stink.

In despair we thought, What should we do?

Then we remembered … The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™! We fled from The Litter Box Room, fired up TIKHE™, and spoke our fears and hopes and anxieties:

Should we get rid of our cats?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Never! Cats are the meow of life—haven’t you seen me and Hadji?

Well then, should we make our cats outdoor, so they poop and pee in places we never see?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Actually, friends, it’s best to keep your cats indoor, as outdoor cats are susceptible not only to fleas and ticks, but also to communicable diseases like feline AIDS.

Friends, spake The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™, what you need is a new litter box: forget this open entry madness. That’s the path toward mess. Instead, let me tell you about the IRIS Top Entry Cat Litter Box with Cat Litter Scoop.

The Curious Case of Keith Hernandez and the best West Coast IPA

Today’s we woke up a little tired. We thought, What should we do?

Of course we didn’t ask ourselves–we’re trying to get away from ourselves, after. Enter The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™ .

So we asked again: What should we do?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Have a beer, friend!

We were like, okay, sure. We got dressed, walked down the bar, and sat down. So many taps anymore! We wondered – what beer, Keith?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Good question. What are the choices?

We reviewed the taplist, telling Keith our options: pilsner, stout, bourbon-barrel aged stout, gose, lager, sour, berlinerweisse, IPA, hazy IPA, session IPA, strong ale, red ale, brown ale, blonde.

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: What on earth are you saying? Am I in Prague??

We described the beers.

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: West Coast IPA.

This surprised us. We asked Keith if he was sure about this.

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: West Coast IPA.

Why the West Coast IPA, Keith?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Teddy Roosevelt DEFINITELY WOULD HAVE DRUNK WEST COAST IPAs.

Excuse us, Keith?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Listen. It’s rare that American produces something singular, distinct, not watered down—especially nowadays, with all these nambypambies. The West Coast IPA is the perfect hop expression, drawn basically from Cascade, Chinook, Columbus, and Centennial, the Four Cs of Hop. Everything else is either a fruity gimmick, or might as well be whiskey, or is quote-unquote “easy drinking.”

What about Hazy IPAs, Keith?

The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™: Ha! Hazy IPAs are the Fruity Pebbles to West Coast IPA’s plain Cheerios! The mai tai to a straight shot of dark rum! West Coast IPAs are the distilled madness of beermakers, while everything else is just madness: yes, they are unbalanced. But as you might know, I’m against balance, I myself am unbalanced. Listen: West Coast IPAs are our nation’s most difficult beer. Love them. Also I’m from Pacifica and I like saying IPA.

So: we present to you

THE BEST WEST COAST IPA tournament

as judged by The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™

(all tasting notes are actual Keith Hernandez quotes!)

Round 1

Ballast Point Sculpin (#1 seed) vs. Lagunitas IPA (#8)

Ballast Point Sculpin: They don’t like me too much in San Diego. Which reminds me—a grasshopper was going along, bothering nobody, and now…he’s all spiced up! What balance! What depth on that breaking ball! Uses the whole field—serious coin!

Lagunitas IPA: No hip rotation. Can I say this? It’s like kissing your sister.

Winner:

El Segundo Mayberry (#2) vs. Pizza Port Swami’s IPA (#7)

El Segundo Mayberry: You can hold the coffee—I’m wide awake now. This guy is built like a fire hydrant!

Pizza Port Swami’s IPA: El stinkaroni! You’re in for a tough night and a rough morning. Throw it in the nearest trash bin!

Winner:

Alpine Duet (#3) vs. Stone IPA (#6)

Alpine Duet: Is that a slight haze I detect? How much sugar they put in this thing? Me, I throw Tootsie Pops and make friends all over the place. I just don’t think this beer is well-executed. “I didn’t execute well” – I love that term. Gimme a whiskey, please!

Stone IPA: Well, we have a wild and wooly one! I smell something rotten in Denmark. It’s what’s behind it that’s ferocious—it stretches all the way down to the Gulf of Mexico. A scaldy dog there, let me tell you.

Winner:

Knee Deep Breaking Bud (#4) vs. Bear Republic Racer 5 (#5)

Knee Deep Breaking Bud: Has fluidity, like a rocking chair. Slight maltiness—more hoppy than bitter, a bit tropical, hints of melon. Very crisp—and I like them crisp.

Bear Republic Racer 5: What are you sending me, balsa wood? I feel like a marsupial with his pouch! This is a small storm. It’s going to pass quickly.

Winner:

Round 2

Semifinal 1: Ballast Point Sculpin (#1) vs. Stone IPA (#6)

Ballast Point Sculpin: If it was a linguist, it’d be Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady! Bring on the dancing bears!

Stone IPA: Another guy with his hat not straight! Oh, I just had a cramp in my hamstring. Sorry folks. Minor.

Winner:

Semifinal 2: El Segundo Mayberry (#2) vs Knee Deep Breaking Bud (#4)

El Segundo Mayberry: I’ve always loved pine tar. This stuff is inspiring within!

Knee Deep Breaking Bud: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I get you. This guy’s a wiseacre. You gotta pound that thing down!

Winner:

Championship Round

Ballast Point Sculpin (#1) vs. El Segundo Mayberry (#2)

El Segundo Mayberry: Needs to pull that mask down a little bit and get some oxygen.

Ballast Point Sculpin: It’s like Caesar coming home in triumph.

Winner:

Ballast Point Sculpin

So there you have it folks: the best West Coast IPA according to The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™ is, perhaps, unsurprisingly, Ballast Point Sculpin. Get a bottle, get a can. Go to the Gaslamp District, take a boat ride in Long Beach. Find the West Coast. Find the beer. Sit back, channel your inner Keith Hernandez, sip, enjoy, exuding all the charm in all the world.

**Inputs into the The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™ matrix include but are not limited to various facts about Keith Hernandez, eg that his father was a stern if loving authoritarian, he’s happy to take pictures with fans, his father and his older brother also played baseball but never made it past the minors, he’s been divorced twice and is not a womanizer but very much a woman-liker, his nickname is Mex though his blood is Spanish (and Scottish and Irish), he’s from northern California, he used to wear shoes 1.5 sizes too small because as he says they fit better, he loves the History Channel and red wine, especially together, he was a huge supporter of Carli Fiorina in 2016, he believes in fundamentals and intangibles, he definitely trusts the eye test more than advanced statistics, he loves crossword puzzles, he’s done his fair share of cocaine, he smoked in the dugout during baseball games, he resists authority, he has a sweet tooth especially for Tootsie Pops but he hates cotton candy, he is worth $15 million and would like to be worth much more, he likes the game Strat-o-Matic, and he lives with this guy:

Introduction

In case your interests don’t include major league baseball, men’s hair dye, Seinfeld, or BluBlockers, you may, however unlikely it is, never have heard of a particularly unique human being: Keith “Mex” Hernandez.

Keith Hernandez is an Interesting American™. Alongside Huell Howser, he is a member of the still-being-assembled original class to be inducted into the Hall of Wonderfully Bizarre Quasi-Celebrities™. Why? Mainly, Keith is known for being a major league baseball player—one of the best never to be inducted into the Hall of Fame.

But he’s known for so much more!

Winner of the 2007 American Mustache Institute’s best sports mustache
“Lacanian” documentary (not bad, not great): I’m Keith Hernandez
Maybe you’ve heard of a little show about nothing?
- The episode title: The Boyfriend. The boyfriend: Keith Hernandez. The Boyfriend Uses: Jerry. The Boyfriend makes out with: Elaine. How does he do this? CHARM.

Since 2006, Keith Hernandez has been an announcer for the New York Mets on SNY.tv, alongside play-by-play man Gary Cohen and former teammate Ron Darling. They are THE third BEST BROADCAST TEAM IN BASEBALL.
Keith’s Famous Friends: Richard Nixon. Donald Trump.

Why are we fixated on Keith? We have, of late, decided to try a new way of living—because it gets old, being slave to the self. Why this self? We’re tired of our actions, our thoughts, all reactions and boring habits. Who isn’t? This is why we read books and watch TV, it’s why we drink and take recreational drugs: we try to vanish from the self. Wouldn’t it be nice to find a little hole somewhere, maybe inside a tiny office building, a hole that we could step through, that would allow us to enter the consciousness of someone else … casting our own aside for a time … and just being … other?

Enter: The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™.

Because who doesn’t want to be a charming almost-Hall of Famer? Maybe a lot of people, sure, but at least some want to try out otherness, if only for a little bit. So, to this end, we have created a matrix: a system of inputs* that shape the manner in which we, as KEITH HERNANDEZ, will act and think. The matrix, when used correctly, guides us to how to respond to a given situation—basically, it answers the question, What would Keith Hernandez do? No longer do you have to rely on your self, your predilections, your biases and flaws and insecurities and hopes and anxieties and expectations: Keith, the slickest first-base glove of all time, has got you covered!

**Inputs into the The I’M KEITH HERNANDEZ Experience™ matrix include but are not limited to various facts about Keith Hernandez, eg that his father was a stern if loving authoritarian, he’s happy to take pictures with fans, he liked to drink beer after games, his father and his older brother also played baseball but never made it past the minors, he’s been divorced twice and is not a womanizer but very much a woman-liker, his nickname is Mex though his blood is Spanish (and Scottish and Irish), he’s from northern California, he used to wear shoes 1.5 sizes too small because as he says they fit better, he loves the History Channel and red wine, especially together, he was a huge supporter of Carli Fiorina in 2016, he believes in fundamentals and intangibles, he definitely trusts the eye test more than advanced statistics, he loves crossword puzzles, he’s done his fair share of cocaine, he smoked in the dugout during baseball games, he resists authority, he has a sweet tooth especially for Tootsie Pops but he hates cotton candy, he is worth $15 million and would like to be worth much more, he likes the game Strat-o-Matic, and he lives with this guy: