Having seemingly missed the memo that starring in a New York Times trend piece is the fastest way to look like a fool short of declaring your support for the candidacy of Donald Trump, a group of Marin-based men spoke recently with The Gray Lady about their guys-only book club. For men, by men, about men — it seems the Man Book Club, as it is called, was founded nine years ago by 53-year-old Andrew McCullough partially in response to the jealousy he experienced at seeing his wife's book club. If they wouldn't let him in, he'd form his own book club! One that didn't let women in! Also, for good measure, one that didn't read books written by women or books with women as main characters!

That's right, the dudes-only ethos goes all the way down to the gender of the characters on the page. You see, books are chosen by members based on three criteria, the first of which being "No books by women about women (our cardinal rule)."

"We do not read so-called chick lit,” McCullough told the times. “The main character cannot be a woman,” he continued, answering our question if they would ever consider reading Anna Karenina, that classic representative of the chick lit genre.

Some books the men have read? According to the group's website, In Cold Blood and The Heart Of Darkness were two of the group's favorites.

If the no-chicks-allowed-even-on-the-page posturing wasn't enough, the men even eat manly foods at their monthly meetings. The latest example? Tacos made with bull testicles — clearly the manliest of meats. “Some guys had real difficulty swallowing," McCullough observed. "I kept eating. I have standards I need to adhere to, as secretary and founder.” Indeed.

Anyway, you can now safely add "manly book clubs" to the list of annoying Marin County trends.

Related: Mark Zuckerberg's New Book Club Sold Out Its First Title On Amazon

A San Francisco man who calls himself an entrepreneur is reportedly trying to turn Lyft Line into an (involuntary) Tinder. As Leigha Beckman writes on Medium and shares with SFist, a man she has since identified but chooses not to expose reportedly selects long routes with female co-passengers in order to hit on them.

Lyft Line, that ride-hailing company's carpooling service, matches strangers with similar destinations. But according to Beckman, her co-rider didn't necessarily have a real one, and perhaps often doesn't.

Has this desperate, disrespectful dude not heard of real Tinder? Or does he simply prefer to force his presence on women who didn't sign up for it? Beckman doesn't speculate on that subject, but instead tells SFist that his tactic is something to watch out for.

She shared her encounter with the man, whom she gives the psuedonym Max, in a Medium post. Though unaware of the serial nature of his behavior, she was nonetheless put off.

“I’m an entrepreneur,” Beckman recalls Max telling her, "I have my own company.” For details of his labored flirtations you can read the original story. Suffice it to say that he even points out how suave he thinks he is to the driver as if Beckman weren't there. He also adds her on Facebook later that day.

In her followup story, Beckman found herself once again riding in the Lyft that had driven her and Max, and the driver finally clued her in to his schtick.

“So, that guy literally uses this as a dating app,” our driver explained. He clearly could not wait to spill the beans. “That girl you saw before he got in your ride  —  she was from another Lyft ride. He said he’s gotten with 25 girls through Lyft Line so far.”

"Maybe it's not a common tactic, but others could easily be doing this," Beckman reasoned when reached by phone. "That's definitely a take-away, that this is a thing that could — did — happen. "

Lyft recently made it easier for passengers to connect with their fellows through the introduction of profiles for riders. Beckman isn't opposed to that, saying that "the alternative" to her encounter "would be it happening organically. But when you're not seeking it out..."

"The point," she continues, "is that it should be a word of caution — I don't want to say to just women, but to anyone in a ride — to be wary of who you're talking to. You don't have to feel pressured to indulge someone's advances."

Cheekily, and with her privacy and that kind of predatory behavior in mind, Beckman has since tweaked her Lyft profile. Now she shows up as a turtle. In fact, she'd like you to do the same.

It would make me really, really happy, if everyone reading this changed their Lyft profile picture to a turtle. It can be any kind of turtle you want. A sea turtle, a snapping turtle, a box turtle, whatever. You can edit your picture in the sidebar of the app  —  there’s three little dots you can click in the upper left corner of the app to edit your profile.

Previously: SF Woman And Boyfriend Assaulted By Fellow Lyft Line Passenger

A horrific incident took place near Union Square on Friday night. A man, found unconscious and bleeding from both ears, was discovered on Stockton and Bush, a few blocks from Union Square and near the Tunnel Top.

SF Weekly reports: "According to police, a witness called the cops at about 11:45 p.m. on Friday after seeing three men beating the victim -- and possibly robbing him."

The unidentified victim is around 45-50 years old. He is now at S.F. General being treated for life-threatening injuries. Police have no description of the susepcts.

Anyone with information about Friday night's bearing is urged to call the SFPD anonymous tip line at 415-575-4444 or via text message to TIP411 with "SFPD" in the message.

[SFW]

In what could turn the neighborhood into bachelorette-party hell, the city's first burlesque gay club is officially coming, so to speak, to the Castro. It promises to be "socially responsible," promote "community organization," foster a competitive-free workplace, and other buzzwords that fail to get one's penis hard. But it also promises barrels of hot guys. That'll work. To the press release!

An investor group announced that RR-SF, an upscale restaurant and gay burlesque club with a philanthropic approach, is planned for the historic corner of Castro & Market. RR-SF is a socially responsible business designed to support local community organizations by donating a percentage of the proceeds to local groups.

The group of investors have undertaken the purchase of the historically significant location at the corner of Market and Castro, formerly inhabited by Diesel, to convert the previously troubled retail space into their flagship venue. After the opening of the San Francisco location, RR-SF plans to expand to several other US cities including, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York and Dallas.

“Our aim is to bring an upscale dining and entertainment experience to the Castro and the gay community at large,” said RR-SF spokesman Adam Alberti. “RR-SF seeks to fill a void, offering high caliber burlesque style entertainment in a clean, safe, and high-end environment that will give back to the very community where it is located,” he said.

During the day and evening, the restaurant will offer locally sourced and sustainable dining options with designer cocktails and premium wine and liquor. Inspired by the Crazy Horse in Paris, RR-SF will offer tasteful burlesque style entertainment for gay gentlemen, a service currently not offered in the City.

RR-SF is embracing a new cashless model that will raise the integrity of the institution, promoting team work rather than competition among employees. A percentage of money patrons spend will be donated to a community organization of their choice, selected upon entering the club. The philanthropic aspect of RR-SF creates a respectful and socially conscious mindset that will benefit the establishment, clientele and the local community.

We're just teasing you, Randy Rooster. We think you might just make it. Even if one can't make it rain. (Will there at least be twerking? We hope there's some twerking. We need to see some twerking.) The Castro really does need more sex. This sounds like a good start. Anyway, here's to a successful ride with countless banana hammocks smashed in our face.

UPDATE: We should point out that, like every other business, it needs to go through the city's Planning Department first.

Photo by Erik Wilson.

Behold: Five of the ten finalists in the 2013 Mr. Marina Competition, all dolled up in their finest underoos and spray-on bronze from a local salon. This photo should serve as a retina-searing reminder that tonight marks the second annual Mr. Marina male beauty pageant and charity drinking event.

This year's competition has already seen shameless self-promotion from contestants in the form of rap videos, stunt tattoos and an endorsement from at least one hyperlocal Internet celebrity. And we're told the boys have been hard at work at an opening number in the style of Magic Mike/a vintage Miss America dance routine.

SFist will be in attendance tonight, of course, with frustratingly hungover analysis to follow on Thursday. In the meantime, onlookers eager to see those airbrushed abs in person should should know there are still tickets available to tonight's shindig at Ruby Skye.

Previously: All Mr. Marina coverage on SFist.

Are you near a shower and some astringent body wash? Then read on.

Three women are suing San Francisco venture firm CMEA Capital and former chief operating partner John Haag for sexual harassment, racial harassment and retaliation. The plaintiffs, who each served as executive assistants at the firm's Presidio office, have aired some appalling allegations, according to a Fortune report.

A long and cringe-worthy list of anecdotes document Haag's alleged behavior towards the plaintiffs, from anal and oral sex references, nicknames like "muffy" and "dirty bird", and all manner of denigrating language and situations that make Mad Men season one look like Sesame Street.

Below, a representative sampling from the suit, which highlights 59 itemized incidents:

On one occasion Plaintiff Hines was answering a question by Defendant Haag stating that she had not eaten and needed some protein and commenced to eat a piece of string-cheese. Defendant Haag commented, “You don’t get enough protein at home?” and then used his tongue and hand to simulate oral-sex.

The suit alleges that Haag was "particularly interested" in anal sex and would make comments about the subject.

In spring/early summer 2011, Defendant Haag asked the female investor relations employee if she liked anal sex. During a period of days around this time, Defendant Haag asked Plaintiff Hines and others how the female employee's "a** was feeling today." On another occasion, Defendant Haag asked the female investor relations employee whether they were aware that porn-stars bleach their anuses in order to make them more attractive.

Haag sounds like he really made an effort to make work NSFW.

On one occasion Plaintiff Schlagenhauf walked into Defendant Haag’s office. Defendant Haag asked her to come around to his side of the desk to help him out with something. Defendant Haag was sitting in the chair with his legs spread open and his crotch thrust out. Defendant Haag maneuvered himself in such a way so as to restrict Plaintiff Schlagenhauf’s movement away from him or to his exit his office.

All signs point to self-esteem issues and problems at home for Haag, who "would repeatedly note that he and his wife were not having sex anymore."

The female investor relations employee was telling Plaintiff Hines about a nice weekend that she had with her boyfriend, and how much she loved him. Defendant Haag walked into the office and state that the female employee should talk to him in twenty years when she was no longer having sex with her partner.

Defendant Haag announced to Plaintiff Schlagenhauf and Plaintiff Hones that he believed himself to be "an attractive guy." He asked Plaintiffs if they found him attractive.

Haag is no longer at CMEA, although the company denies all allegations. According to a CMEA representative, "this lawsuit is the result of the least 'sexy' of its allegations: the plaintiffs' curtailment of overtime in late 2012 as the result of a new Firm-wide overtime policy."

If you've got time to kill and are looking for a nasty read Fortune has the full text of the suit.

[Fortune]

The San Francisco Chronicle’s Food and Wine staff selected five Rising Star Chefs was announced over the weekend “to find and highlight some of the Bay Area's freshest talent, those young chefs who we think are destined for stardom.” This year, once again, no women made the list. Alas.

The 2013 Rising Star Chefs aren't lacking in flavor, but it is missing a strong female presence. And for the past four years, no women have made the list. But this year, restaurant critic Michael Bauer is reacting to the backlash he’s getting, posting this article early this morning, kind of haphazardly listing local standout female chefs.

What's the missing link between these females cropping up in his head and actually making the rising stars list? We don’t know, exactly. (We don't blame the Chronicle so much as we do our city's XY-chromosone favoritism in the kitchen. Ironically enough.) For this part, Bauer posted a disappointed email he received regarding the female slight, and said he’d “love to hear from the rest of you.”

In related news, Kyle Itani, the ramen master at Hopscotch we featured in Friday's Eat This Tonightt, made the list. Rounding out the top five are: Devin Mc David, pastry chef at Quince and Cotogna; Robin Song, chef at Hog & Rocks; Mark Pensa, chef de cuisine at Acquerello; and Brandon Rodgers, chef de cuisine at Benu.

Let's face it: There a particularly high tide of artisanal masculinity sweeping the city of late. From fancy barbershops harkening back to simpler times to bespoke style (don't worry, we had to look it up too) and the near city-wide prevalence of hunting-lodge bar ambiance, men seem to be getting out, dropping $$$, and taking pains to reinforce their dudeliness like never before. And while I love good bourbon, leather seating and hickory smoke as much as the next red-blooded human, I can't help but feel there's something a tad bit compensatory about the vibe as a whole. (Don't even get me started on this.)

Enter the Wingtip Club, the latest installment into SF's catalog of high-end man-tastic pursuits. Blending nearly every aspect of SF's fetish for exclusivity, top-shelf everything and ample retail tie-ins, this neo-boy's club is a private downtown lodge for fans of Wingtip's retail store (no, it's not a mens-only club, although "the amenities are most likely to appeal to those with masculine tastes"). With a whiskey bar, a wine cave, a champagne room and private parlor rooms, game rooms, wine lockers, Audi car service and a soon-to-be roof deck complete with toys ("think 1960s Russian anti-aircraft binocular set"), part of me is secretly dying to spend a day in old-school leatherbound luxury while the other part thinks this whole thing is just a clever parody of itself.

After perusing the Wingtip Club's manifesto, here are a few of our favorite lines:

"Life’s too short for overcrowded bars, uncomfortable wooden chairs, loud music, paper cups, servers that don’t remember your name, plastic coat hangers, and single-ply toilet paper." [Note: why didn't anyone tell me this 10 years ago?]

"At its most subversive, the club is a showcase for the finer things in life."

"All of the furniture in the bar is upholstered in Dormeuil suiting fabrics, making it one of the most expensive pieces of bar furniture you’ll ever sit on ..."

"In order to provide you with your daily fix of feuds, fights and fixtures, we house an interactive entertainment Mecca built to unleash your competitive energies without your having to break a sweat, or spill a drink. We are all competitors at heart, with killer instincts fine tuned and on point ... "

"The only thing worse than preparing to light your cigar or a lady’s cigarette with your fancy S.T. Dupont lighter and finding it’s empty, is to pull out your Visconti pen to sign a huge deal and realize it’s out of ink."

The cost of all this luxury? Loyalty to Wingtips men's store and/or wads of casherolle to spend on clothes. "With the monthly dues fully redeemable at the stores or online, each member is essentially committing to spend a couple grand a year at the store." So if you're ready/willing/able to drop a couple large on clothes, cufflinks, "pewter-mounted drinking horns" and cigar accessories, the club is essentially a free landing pad. Note that while we resent you, we don't totally blame you (and I am inordinately interested in the highly sexual description of the champagne room, complete with "a modicum of privacy, comfortable seating, authentic riddling racks, [and] a bullseye for practicing sabrage ..."). In fact, if you do become a member and are looking to fill your 3 guest allowance, give me a call.

Until then, I'll save my aspirations for membership in a private club for the Mechanic's Institute Chess Room and Library, where the nerdiness is distinctly equal opportunity.

We recently introduced you to "Jeffy," aka "Captain_Derp" if you're on OKCupid, aka Jeff Allen, a local self-proclaimed PUA (pick-up artist) whose sleazy escapades gave us the collective creeps for the women of San Francisco. A few women have stepped forward to describe their nights out with the notorious man.

Jeffy is an enterprising fellow who we assume makes some sort of living with his $270 DVDs and his book Get Laid or Die Trying. But for a man who purports to teach other men the intricacies of "getting into the pants of the hottest girl at the party—a total stranger—in less than thirty minutes", "getting threesomes as your default extraction" and "deflecting last-minute resistance with a single word" (ugh), reports from real women tell the story of an inept asshole whose deals with seemingly inevitable rejection with racial slurs, angry insults and dick-waving.

Katie Baker at Jezebel has unearthed more details about Jeffy and the experience of women who actually took him up on his go-to date idea, dinner at Cha Cha Cha in the Mission (or, as he annoying calls it in a text, "Cha3"). And what a date it was for these unlucky ladies.

After Jolene Parton met Jeffy at "Cha3", suffered through some PUA nonsense and began to feel her personal space was being violated, she left a pissed-off Jeffy at the restaurant.

After unlocking my car and getting inside, I heard my phone vibrate. I pulled it out, and to my surprise, I already had 3 texts waiting, and more were appearing by the second. "Kill yourself nigger." "You're pathetic." "The cognitive dissonance must be killing you," (absolutely no idea how he's interpreting this phrase). "The funny thing is, we're actually perfect for each other," and a final "You're pathetic." Wow.

"Cognitive dissonance"? He's a gentleman and a scholar. And more women have reported even more hair-raising experiences in the same vein after going back to Jeffy's place.

He changed into basketball shorts and handed me a bottle of water in which he made a joke that he "roofied" (second red flag) and then jumped on top of me. We made out for a couple more minutes and he yanked my shirt off. When I said no sorry, I'm not going to fuck you he quickly stood above me straddling my body with his ankles, pulled out his DICK and waved it back and worth asking "ever seen one of these, ever seen one of these" ... What they hell was I supposed to say to that!! I couldn't help but burst into complete laughter, thinking in my head but not saying..."well I've never seen one that small before".

Another woman went back to Jeffy's place but stopped him short of sex, and here's how he reacted.

He FLIPS the FUCK out. Jumps up and starts berating me, gesturing at his (now limp) dick, saying,"LOOK at what you did to me!!" and "are you kidding me? After all that time I spent on you??". It was now that I started thinking about whether I was strong enough to beat him off me, should it come to that.

Thankfully, I was able to escape unscathed thanks to Uber and being surprisingly good at calming down angry men with promises of 'calling them tomorrow'.

This guy is a predator and I hope this coverage helps prevent other girls from going out with him. Though I doubt it will.

Head over to Jezebel for a full dose of Jeffy. And ladies? Please do not go the Cha Cha Cha or anywhere else with this man.

Last year, the Mr. Marina Competition saw fourteen of the 94123's most unabashed bro-hams waggling their dongs while drinking away any hint of homoeroticism that arises from being a contestant in a male beauty pageant -- a pageant that raised over $80,000 for cancer research. It proved a fascinating spectacle to say the least. In 2013, the competition returns with a fresh class of ten new pledges hoping to one-up their big brothers in this dubious fraternity. These are those gentlemen.

The competition will again consist of three rounds: a swimwear portion, a talent portion and a "Marina-wear" Q&A session. If last year's competition is any indication, "swimwear" will consist of boat shoes and speedos, while talents will mostly be limited to feats of turbo alcoholism. To really add to the bro-factor here, the venue has been upgraded and will now take place Wednesday, March 20th at Ruby Skye. (Which: obviously not in the Marina, but home to many a fist-pumping vodka soda drinker.)

While we wait for tickets to go on sale next Friday, January 18th we feel like this is as good a time as any to familiarize ourselves with the Mr. Marina class of 2013. We couldn't make up these descriptions if we tried:

• Rodney Alexander Decomo Schmitt, or just "Schmitt," because who gives a Schmitt about all those other names? Schmitt claims to have reached puberty at the age of nine and "the only thing Schmitt likes more than Marina Mommies, is the opportunity to rip his shirt off while shot gunning a bud light at Frat Mason." (Ed. Note: Ahem.)

• Long Island native Ben Hartard probably dealt with a lot of a lot name-calling in grade school, but later went on to become a Guinness World Record holder in Badminton — a sport largely preferred by upperclass white people. He enjoys tandem bike rides with his bro along Crissy Field and delivered his high school's Valedictory address in a neon Speedo.

• David "Rusty" Rust is the poster boy for ride sharing service Lyft on Facebook. He enjoys wearing Red Stripe-branded tank tops and wiping the sweat off his brow with his Stanford towel. He also learned to play the piano after visiting Havana at age 14, so he's a worldly fellow.

• David St. Geme writes his bio in the first person: "Oh, hello there. I failed to notice you sitting there staring at me. I'm David. I'm a pretty normal guy, I guess. I graduated from Stanford in 2010 with a degree in Economics, so I guess you could say I know my way around a 1 dollar bill. In my spare time I love to be outdoors and go to the beach. Sometimes I just like to go to exotic islands and soak in the vitamin D. Also, dolphins love me. I also like to make my mark on the athletic field. I mean, I played intramural floor hockey in college, but it's not that big of a deal." Cool story, bro.

• Ismail "Ish" Simpson brings some diversity to the contestant pool (and a touch of class, we might add — look at that pocket square!) and spent his childhood growing up as an army brat before settling in San Francisco-via-Palo Alto. "At Stanford, Ish sharpened his competitive spirit and improved his alcohol tolerance as a member of the Stanford football team." When he's not drinking at the local Marina watering holes, he can be found "making one hand catches over your cheese and fruit spread" at Fort Mason and making friends "from the barbershop to the boardroom."

• Jason Del Grande boasts a San Francisco pedigree not often found in the transplant-ridden Marina District. His italian family owns the celebrated Swan Oyster Depot on Polk Street, his Great Uncle was apparently on the very first 49ers squad in 1946 and his grandfather used to own a grocery store in North Beach before he lost a battle with Leukemia. Jason now lives on a stretch of Fillmore Street where it is apparently very difficult to find parking.

• Johnny Affourtit has "impeccable flow" that allegedly makes women crumble. His "well-rounded" interests include: fist-pumping at Lightning, drinking scotch at Reed & Greenough, dinner at Delarosa and patrolling Union Street surrounded by "a bevy of blonde beauties." He claims he would make a great candidate for Mr. Marina 2013 because he has a lot of likes on Instagram.

• John Kennelly likes to enjoy the two beers at twilight special on the Presidio Golf Course, where he holds two holes-in-one and is two-time defending champ of the "Golf Bros Invitational" competition. He once met Brian Wilson and Pat Burrell at Delarosa on Chestnut Street the day after the 2010 World Series.

• Manton Alexander Paine urges any takers to find a more yuppie name than his. He has an affinity for women in white pants, does not personally own jeans and has summered in Nantucket since he was three years old. Tour buses through the Presidio often stop to point out the epic day parties thrown on his lawn and he eats more meals at Cape Cod-theme taqueria Tacko than at his own home.

• Peter O'Hare spent five years at UC Santa Barbara "because anything less would be leaving a party at 10 p.m." Before moving to the Marina to live on campus, he was popping his collar along Polk Street and searching for boxers and hot chicks at Lululemon. He often works out shirtless to show off his spray tan from Solar Planet and is not afraid to sip fruity drinks and rock stunner shades like Kanye's 2008 Glow in the Dark tour.

So, there you have it. The 2012 winner took home a prize package that included a year's worth of bottomless mimosas at Circa, 10% off Uber Cab rides that end in the Marina, 12 months worth of manly tank tops and more. Tickets for the March 20th event are $25.00 and include a 1-hour open bar of Skyy Vodka and Peroni Beer. Proceeds go to benefit Slap Cancer and the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. And if you buy a ticket in your favorite contestant's name, you'll be casting a vote for them as the reigning king of the Marina in 2013.

Previously: Nominate Your Favorite/Worst Bro For Mr. Marina 2013
Mr. Marina Competition: Aggressive Alcoholism In The Name Of Charity

During the fifth inning of Game 1 on Wednesday, we got off our couch, turned off the TV, and begrudgingly arrived (tipsy) to the 2013 Michelin Guide party when the discussion of the Giants surprisingly sprang up. (Shocking given that food media types rarely talk about anything other than restaurants, themselves, or which PR person is on their shit list.) Specifically, the conversation devolved to the players' sexual desirability. Now, we try not to get into these kinds of conversations since a) we're gay and it can come across as affected shtick, and b) it's just not nice. Most of our baseball appreciation and fandom comes from our father. To the best of our knowledge, dad never once brought up Reggie Jackson's ass while we watched games together at Anaheim Stadium back in the '80s.

But why not discuss their signature looks? After all, the Giants are branding themselves accordingly, especially with postseason victories. And didn't the media spill much ink over Gabby Douglas' hair this summer? They did. They certainly did. And with that, we want to talk about your San Francisco Giants hairdos. We begin with Hunter Pence...