Ep 58 - Breckoning Kerouac


Simultaneously grandiose and incoherent     56:59                                                                             Writer/Editor:  SK Morton                                                         CoHost  :  Pete Feliciano                                             Producer/Sound Engineer:  Squidge McSqueezy  

Simultaneously grandiose and incoherent


56:59                                                                            Writer/Editor:  SK Morton                                                     CoHost:  Pete Feliciano                                             Producer/Sound Engineer:  Squidge McSqueezy  

Ep 58 - Breckoning Kerouac

There are few guarantees in life - death, taxes, Tom Brady's chin - but this week; we here at SK Morton's Lousy San Francisco Podcast offer this guarantee:  Directionless ranting.

Disheartened after a weak opening Petes's life changes when he meets SK who is "tremendously excited with life [and the prospect of Patreon income]", and he begins to long for the freedom of the road and income of driving for Uber. "Somewhere along the line I knew there would be elephant ears, Ed Lee's mustache, robotic cars; somewhere along the line the FLOTUS would be handed to me.

Now the bug was on us again, and the bug's name was the Beatles. First we talk about Chapelle's monologue on SNL and SK's introduction to the black community. This soon degenerates into an argument over which comics are funny and which reinforce Pete's personal brand of nihilism. This segment ends with a chronographical, if not cohesive, note when SK announces his YouTube discovery of History Buffs. "What we accomplished by talking about Frisco I don't know".

Having obtained divorce papers in Mexico, we end the show with discussions about the DNA Lounge, San Francisco's soon-to-be 2nd tallest building: Ocean Wide Center, and buskers getting the floppy-soled boot on Market street with a quick reminder of Pete's humble beginings.

"He'll be alright", SK later reflects as he sits on the 47 under the San Francisco sky and states: "...I think of Pete, I even think of Old Pete the father we never found, I think of Pete."