The SF Health Department is siding with those who want to see San Francisco lose its identity, with the classic, “if you can’t afford to be here, then get the fuck out of the city” attitude. Here’s the Tamale Lady just recently slinging tamales in the TL, where I think I speak for everyone when I say, “keep the hell out, health department!”
Word on the street is Frank Chu is having his signs confiscated by the planning department and buskers around the city are being required to submit a daily tax to the entertainment commission. Unconfirmed reports tell the Tenderlife that city supervisors are also taking a percentage of the money they are entitled to out of the cups of homeless beggars as they walk by them.
This just in: Whistling on your way to work will not require you to get a license from the city so long as you limit your audience to under 20 people who can reasonably hear you. We won, San Francisco! We won!
Perhaps you don’t speak for everyone?
Maybe an emotional attachment to a particular good or service shouldn’t preclude our Department of Public Health from doing its job, like protecting San Franciscans from food-bourne bacteria?
Maybe city supervisors also recognize that no one’s actually getting E. Coli or hepatitis A from that sweet local latina who sells overpriced tamales, and are working to find a solution?
Maybe health experts should prevent health problems. Maybe politicians should fix political problems. Maybe everyone is doing exactly what we pay them to do.
On the other hand, the issue has generated some top-notch local outrage porn, so there’s that.
What fresh hell is this?
“Glory paid to our ashes comes too late.”
-Marcus Aurelius
San Francisco: Creep City
San Francisco is a city in which we are besieged from both sides: the infinitesimal middle class here contends with rich creeps and poor creeps. For every meth-addicted jerk-victim spraying spittle and salacious slurs at commuting women, there is an ostentatious startup scion hijacking a social situation and crashing it into the ground with his self-aggrandizing prattle. While the schizophrenic is defecating on the children’s playground, the high-flying narcissist at the bar waylays five adults with an unsought lecture on the intricacies of his moral hobbies.
The middle class is divided at which is the bigger problem; at parties, we fight about which outrage demands action: the $17 tube of artisanal organic chapstick available at the VC-backed cosmetic shop (run, I hasted to add, by genuinely dedicated snobs who don’t feel phony!) or the indigent junkies whose petty crimes don’t seem petty to their victims, and whose lawlessness and verbal abusiveness aren’t funny, either. The latter need help, which they’ll neither get nor work towards or with; the former are just so trying to listen to, so exhausting in their hyped-up self-centeredness.
@BeschlossDC: Here is rare color photography of San Francisco 1906, recovering from earthquake and fire.
You can have your Batmans and your Zorros. In San Francisco, we form vigilante committees.
Due process is a real bitch while fighting civil unrest and political corruption.
Shit happens, someone has to deal with it, and who ya gonna call?
Now accepting applications. Muttonchops preferred but not required.
I understand why many are drawn to this aesthetic, but if they think we’ll be caught dead displaying a current map of San Francisco that includes Daly City within its august borders, they’re out of their goddamn minds.
“It is the wretchedness of being rich that you have to live with rich people.”
-Logan P. Smith
Newsom: The whole idea is this: Right now, we have a broadcast model of governing. You vote and I decide. You understand this intimately. You’ve seen the contours of this change in the media and certainly in the music industry. Big is getting small and small is getting big. Technology has the ability to level the playing field.
Colbert: What the fuck does any of that mean? The big is getting small and the small is getting big? What are you talking about? Is there a glossary? Is there a bullshit translator?
Gavin’s not being deliberately obtuse. He’s trying to translate how we, as voters, can utilise social currency to increase growth and drive conversations. If we can ignite the existing community by amplifying the experience with relevant and engaging policy, we can all be, as McLuhan said, “governance megaphones.”
Local politics has been boring the shit out of me lately, so I appreciate The Examiner’s tabloid instincts at trying to tart things up around here.
It’s 1998 all over again.
He opens the sugar packets with his teeth, pours them in his coffee, spits them on the floor. Slowly. Thrice. Stirs them with the wooden stick. Tosses it on the floor. Spills some more coffee for good measure.
Have you seen this ass? Coming to a bus near you.
