Intolerable Love for Sale

It turns out that the SF Police takes a dim view on a-whorin' in the Taraval District 'hood. The police cited a worker at a health club for "handing" out extra services upon demand with the towels. They had received multiple complaints about the prostitution going on there.

Perhaps it is one last stand by the police since San Francisco voters will be voting on decriminalizing prostitution in the city in Proposition K on November 4.

San Francisco Fleet Week

The U.S. Navy sails into the Bay this week. San Franciscans hit the rooftops to watch the Blue Angels noisy display over the city.

I Want to Poop On You!

A tongue-in-cheek article in the SF Weekly for the scatalogically obsessed teaches us how to become urban poop detectives for errant pet owners, the homeless and other creatures of the sidewalk toilet.

How to Become a San Francisco Poop Detective

Triumph, the Insult Comic Dog, declined to be interviewed for this post.

Sunday in the Street with George

Today is one of the traffic-free Sunday Streets days on the Embarcardero where the city closes the street to vehicles and the residents can play in the street with abandon.

Well, not too much abandon. MUNI is operating the streetcars down the Embarcadero, so there is always the chance of a pedestrian accident. But, hey, it's free to ride MUNI today, so who's complaining, so long as you aren't the pedestrian being hit, right?

So get your yoga mat and get your downward dog down to the Embarcadero today.

Clutching Victory from the Jaws of Defeat

It takes a San Franciscan, or perhaps a hardened, cynical New Yorker, to grasp the silver lining to an urban crisis.

Mark Pritchard, of Metblogs, writes:

A friend said to me tonight while we were walking past a popular Glen Park restaurant:

"There have been all these shootings in Glen Park — maybe now I’ll be able to get a table at this place."

Wild West Ocean Beach

Surfers on Ocean Beach in San Francisco found themselves surrounded by 100 Indians on horseback on Friday, September 5, 2008. Sadly, the Indians and their horses were painfully thin.

A demonstration of the paucity of Federal treaty promises partially upheld? No, the Indians and horses were plywood cutouts painted by Thom Ross. The San Francisco Chronicle reports that this was Mr. Ross' "Valentine to my home town".

The Western artist used the images from Buffalo Bill and his Wild West Show photograph from 1902 in which Bill Cody posed his Indian entertainers along the same portion of the beach.

Mr. Ross is a native San Franciscan, but now lives in Seattle. His art installation continues through September 15, 2008.

Please note that the art installation displays American Indians from the Plains tribes in the 19th Century and are not representative of tribal members from the Northern California area, past or present.

In San Francisco, One Day You're In, the Next, You're Down and Out!

Although I've been "Auf'd" from San Francisco's city limits, I still love the city. Today I finally found my favorite story that describes San Francisco's uniqueness.

As you may recall, I have one for Phoenix, where the soccer mom returns fire with the pistol from her purse when a gang opens fire on her husband and her on Baseline Road. I couldn't find a good one for San Francisco, until today.

In the comments to a story about Mayor Gavin Newsom being given an award by Time Magazine, a commenter posted this:

The East Coast media never quite gets a handle on San Francisco's uniqueness. I was visiting SFO once, and threw on some ratty clothes to go out and grab the morning newspaper. As I walked by a woman who had been sleeping in a store doorway, she looks me up and down and snorts: "Nice sweats!".

You gotta love a city where the homeless are fashion critics. And good ones, at that.

Yeah, any one of San Francisco's homeless could sit in as the guest judge on Project Runway, adroitly rip into the designers for their rotten fashion sense until they cry, hit up Heidi Klum for clean needles, shake down Michael Kors for change, read Nina Garcia for being a "snooty bitch", all while guzzling an "upscale" 40 in a "designer" paper bag, without breaking a sweat during the inevitable saturated burp.

Now that's San Francisco. Classy.

So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

It has been a crazy month. I'm having to sell everything and move back with the 'rent. It has been a wonderful year in San Francisco. I wish I'd have been able to find a job and stay. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

So I bid my favorite city goodbye.

So long and thanks for all the fish!

Things I've Learned from San Francisco

It looks like my time in San Francisco is drawing to a close. It isn't by choice, but by necessity. I've lived here a year and have exhausted my savings without finding a job. Sadly, a good heart doesn't pay the rent.

In getting ready to move, I've been reflecting on what I've learned in San Francisco.

First, I learned Patience. I have ADHD. Patience is not an easy virtue of mine. Still, after being a typical Kansas City driver, I learned that contrary to popular opinion, you don't have to drive with your horn. One almost never hears someone honk at someone in this town. Even the taxi drivers seem to be uncommonly patient and polite. The only exception to this rule are MUNI operators who are rude and surly at the best of times.

Also, I learned that you can wait in line and not have a coronary from the stress. To be honest, I'm still learning this and probably will never quite master it. But I'm trying.

The reason a city is a fun city is because its citizens organize fun things. From the Bring Your Own Big Wheel race down crookedest streets to Urban Golf to reenacting the Alamo with water balloons, this town has a fun mix of people.

Tolerance is for the uncivilized. This city openly accepts its strangest and squirreliest of citizens. It enjoys them. It gives them space and time to be themselves.

Compassion starts with the least of citizens and extends upwards. You'd think 2000 years after Christ, we'd get this. After 30 years of Republican "compassion-lite", which is to say no compassion at all, there are still people who care about the homeless and try to find ways to help them, while keeping them out of the parks and people's backyards.

People like to say that people in the Midwest are friendly. I don't think they know the meaning of the term. By San Francisco standards, Kansans are downright hesitant. MUNI drivers aside, people in this town don't resent being stopped and asked directions or which bus to take. They will patiently explain how to get across town and what bus numbers to look for. I've never lived in a city so friendly and nice.

There are some aspects of liberalism, exemplified in this city, with which I'm uncomfortable. I don't like how everyone thinks they can have a stake in someone's private construction project. I think it is unAmerican to let your neighbors have a say in the color of your house or whether you are allowed to build three stories or two. If they aren't chipping in on the cost, I don't think they should get a say. But people here do think that is the way it should be. For better or worse, it somehow works well enough that eventually construction projects do get built. Just later and for more money than it would cost if people minded their own business.

Sorry. That was the Kansan in me talking.

MUNI Nazi

I tell my friends and family visiting the city to never ask a bus driver or other MUNI operator for directions, help or any assistance. They are downright grouchy, grumpy and rude.

Instead, I tell them, ask anyone else from San Francisco. Unlike any other city where I've traveled, San Franciscans transit riders are polite to a fault. They will give you directions, help you find the right bus and even give restaurant suggestions.

But we all know that the MUNI Nazis are downright mean. Now we have proof.

It took Channel 7 (ABC) two years and a lawsuit to get MUNI to release its complaint records. We now know the name of the grouchiest, rudest, and PMSiest operator of all.

Cynthia Thompson has had 139 complaints in three years. That doesn't count the ones that MUNI didn't think deserved any action. She has more complaints against her than any other operator.

Some Quotes:

May 18, 2004: “The operator was on her cell phone from the time she boarded … until she got off.”

January 26, 2005: “She reminds me of the ‘Soup Nazi’ on Seinfeld.”

September 13, 2004: “Extremely rude and unnecessarily rude toward passengers.”

January 2, 2006: “Operator was clipping her nails while driving the bus.”

March 23, 2005: “Close doors on patron’s wrist. Patron had to pull his wrist out to avoid being dragged by the bus.”

October 3, 2005: “The rudest, most disrespectful operator this patron has ever seen.”

Channel 7 had to go ride her bus to get to talk to her. Within minutes, she trapped a little girl's foot in the door. (Click link to see undercover video.)

Soon afterward she committed the unpardonable sin in San Francisco - she used her horn on a car parked in the bus lane. A passenger objected to her use of the horn and she cusses him out and calls the transit police on him. (Click link to see undercover video.)

Both of these were on the same bus ride on the same day! Unfortunately, she is not alone.

I've had my ability to read called into question by train operators. It was my first ride on the train outside the subway. The doors don't open automatically in the Avenues like they do in the subway, even if you step down like you do on buses. The signs telling you to push the almost indistinguishable bar are helpfully placed at shin height.

My 70 year-old mother was treated rudely for asking if she was going the right direction when traveling home by bus while I was in the hospital. But the riders gallantly came to her rescue and verified that she was going the right direction and made sure she knew where to get off the bus.

But for every rude driver, there seems to be one or two that really shine. My nephew and I were on a bus earlier this month. The driver was one of the most friendly and helpful drivers I've ever encountered anywhere.

I wish I'd gotten his name or number so I could have written and praised him to his supervisors. If Ms. Thompson is the MUNI Nazi, he is surely the MUNI Saint.

Bay to Breakers 2008

Runners are getting into stride in the annual Bay to Breakers 12K race today. The race route starts at the Bay side of the city, runs through SOMA, through City Center, Hayes Valley, skirts the Haight and NOPA, into Golden Gate Park, and ends at Ocean Beach.

What makes this race a San Francisco treat is that some runners don costumes. Some run without benefit of clothing. It is a free-for-all fun time in the best of San Francisco tradition. There are serious runners, of course, in normal race attire, too.

The race began in 1912 as a testament to San Franscisco's survival of the 1906 earthquake. It was intended to be a precursor to the 1915 Panama Pacific International Exposition, when San Franciscans were to show that the city was rebuilt.

The Cross City Race, as it was first called, had around 200 runners. The race now draws more than 65,000 participants and over 100,000 spectators. In 1986, the race won the title of World's Biggest Footrace in the Guinness Book of World Records when it had over 110,000 participants (with 78,769 registered as runners).

Photos from this year's race can be found here.

Slow Dancing Out Loud

"This day is about people who can begin to live their lives out loud." Mayor Gavin Newsom was celebrating the California Supreme Court decision legalizing marriage for everyone regardless of sexual orientation.

Mayor Newsom's words resonate with me. I've not been able to forget this concept of living one's life out loud. It is amazing how much power a word or phrase has.

I'm gay, but I'm single and don't plan to get married. Still the court decision impacted me in a personal and substantive way.

The reason that I moved from Kansas City, Missouri to San Francisco, California was so that I could live my life out loud, although I didn't have the concept to match the feelings last year.

I was weary of having to decide if I should remain silent about my sexual orientation in employment. I was weary to the bone of the Bible Belt. I no longer intended to endure that silent oppression that loudly voiced itself in political life there.

The Kansas City metro area was once a free and liberal place. At least it was as compared to the small Kansas town in which I grew up. I once was enamored with its flowered boulevards and many statues and fountains. In the end, the city's facial beauty could no longer distract me from the increasingly intolerant social and political realities there.

As the Religious Right took control of the GOP, the social cancer that it brought took hold and prospered in the Plains along with the wheat.

Being in the heart of the Bible Belt, many people became more judgmental against gays and lesbians and saw no problem enforcing their religious beliefs on us in the government and increasingly, in social settings. It was an often silent, but invidious oppression.

In sharp contrast, I felt much more accepted and able to live freely in conservative Arizona than I ever did in Missouri or Kansas. When I returned to Missouri after grad school in Arizona, I never really felt at home again.

I felt as though I were holding my breath, waiting for something; waiting for I knew not what. I could never fully relax.

Finally, when the opportunity arose, I took a chance and moved from a Red State to a Blue State. I moved to what is considered the most liberal city in the U.S. if not the world.

And after Thursday's court decision establishing sexual orientation as a protected class, along with race, religion and sex, at long last, I could relax. I let go of my long-bated breath. Even with all the protections in place in California, for the first time in my adult life, I began to breath easily and deeply.

I participated in the celebratory party in the Castro Thursday night, where the entire LGBT community collectively exhaled. I couldn't help but compare it to Kansas City, where this spontaneous celebration and family feeling could never have happened. I have many gay friends there who still cannot live their lives fully out loud.

I read reactions from around the country, including one from a man in Texas who dared not to hope. But he was joyous that somewhere there was finally justice. That gave him permission to hope just a little that he would see a change someday in his home state. It was clear that he still could not live out loud.

The state argued that the only difference between domestic partnership and marriage was just a word. It implied that the word had no legal substance, no legal value, no power. Even the dissenters in Thursday's opinion didn't buy that the word had no value. Certainly those who oppose gay marriage don't think that the word has no substantive value.

If it is just a word, what a word it is to carry so much meaning, hope and acceptance for those of us who heard it applied to us for the first time in this state. The value, the power of that word, marriage, represented decades of fighting for this moment by the couples who brought the lawsuit. It had the power to make a crowd shout so loudly that the gleeful din could be heard for blocks around the Castro. It had legal substance in that for the first time known in this nation, we became a protected class where the state could not deny us our rights unless it could meet the strictest level of review by the courts.

That word means so much more than just a marriage license to us. For gays and lesbians everywhere, marriage is a homograph. For us, it means we are a huge step closer to being equal - equal in treatment by our government and equal in society for our love. Maybe a huge step closer to one day being fully accepted and respected in this country. And it means we now have a substantial set of state rights under the same name as everyone else in the state.

This one word has the power to reach across the nation and around the world. Now, other gays and lesbians can come to California and get legally married without residency requirements.

There will be a veritable stampede of gays and lesbians rushing to the alter in the event that victory is snatched from us in November. There is still a ballot initiative to amend the Constitution, which means that the struggle continues.

Yesterday I was given reason to hope even where the ballot initiative was concerned. I have a surrogate family in the Bay Area; it is my late step-father's sister and her husband. They consider me family and I, them.

I never felt that they were narrow-minded nor that my being gay was a problem for them. But I wondered how they felt about the gay marriage decision.

My step-aunt is liberal, so I really didn't figure it phased her at all. But my step-uncle is conservative and they are both Catholic. There was room for a little doubt.

My blood-relation uncle and aunt also live in this area and I don't really interact with them due to their Southern Baptist religion. In fact, my uncle is a retired Southern Baptist minister. They love me and I love them, but I don't care to have their religious prejudice in my life.

I figured my mother could do without the barrage. My uncle's constant braying about my lost soul got on her last nerve. My uncle promised my mother that he would never bring up the subject with me, but my uncle feels compelled to raise the subject when talking with her. She holds her own, but doesn't care to debate the subject when she knows they won't change their fractured view of homosexuals.

My aunt once called me when I was on a business trip to San Francisco to warn me. She was deeply concerned that I'd contract MRSA, which had just started coming to public consciousness.

She had good intentions, but I couldn't help but laugh. Her prejudice was showing like a slip peeking out from under her conservative dress.

Despite living in the Bay Area for over 40 years, she had no better idea of what constituted a gay man or his habits than someone in the Arctic Circle.

Of course, being gay and being saved are mutually exclusive in her religion. From the conversation, I quickly grasped her stereotype. She believed that all gay men danced together shirtless (undoubtedly ass-less leather chaps were her worst fear).

Since I am gay, she reasoned that I could not help myself in my unfettered depravity and go dancing shirtless with other gay men in some dark, crowded gay bar. Since MRSA was contracted by skin-to-skin contact, she feared that one shirtless slow dance might just kill me before I got saved.

I knew that her call was out of love for me. I assured her that I wasn't even visiting a gay bar while in town. In fact, I was quite a few miles from San Francisco in Burlingame, preparing for my meeting the next day. I had neither the time nor the inclination to go dancing.

I mentioned that because of my expanding waistline, I was not inclined to expose my torso, depraved dancing or not. I even reminded her that my mother and I are the only two American Indians without rhythm.

She wasn't at all convinced. "Keep your shirt on," she instructed.

Because of my Southern Baptist relatives, I couldn't help but wonder about my step-uncle's feelings or fears about gay marriage.

I needn't have worried. In talking with my step-uncle, he said, "I don't see where it affects me or my marriage. I don't have a problem with it."

My eyes welled up as I let loose of a different level of bated breath. Unlike my Southern Baptist aunt and uncle, he gets it.

Like the gay man in Texas, I have hope. I can finally live my life out loud, even as a single gay man, all because of one word.

I think that I'll go have a depraved, shirtless slow dance at a gay wedding to celebrate. Surely my auntie would agree that you can't live life out loud more than that.

Beach Blanket Babylon Updated

Beach Blanket Babylon, the San Francisco institution, a campy musical theatre gala known for its big hats and wigs, wasted no time in updating its show to include the same-sex marriage decision.

Last night, the wonderfully flamboyant gay character in pink 18th Century French costume with enormous pink hair sang, "I got married in the morning! ... I'm still a two-some, thanks to Mayor Newsom, the Supreme Court saw things my way!"

The theatre troupe often includes recent events in its shows.

Note that clicking the above link to the BBB site will automatically start a loud rendition of "San Francisco (Open Your Golden Gate)". Other pictures and show information are available on the website.

Love Transcends All

It was fairly certain that with something as big as legalized same-sex marriage rights recognized today by the California Supreme Court, that the Castro would erupt into an impromptu party. That's how we roll.

The block on Castro between Market and 18th Street were cordoned off and a stage set up.

Speeches were given that received cheers that reverberated into the surrounding neighborhood.



When the speeches were finished, a d.j. started some techno spinning and the crowd danced and milled around until late into the evening.



The only downside are all the media helicopters still flying around noisily at 11:30 p.m. It sounds like a war zone.

Despite the noise, it's hard to imagine this happening anywhere else tonight in quite this intimate or peaceable a manner.

We're one large family. Tonight, we celebrate the right to have that fact recognized by our state.

It is the sort of thing that the Castro can do that the Village in NYC and WeHo in LA can't quite duplicate.

To think: The fight for equality in California started with Harvey Milk in San Francisco, was prodded by Mayor Gavin Newsom in San Francisco in 2004 and was decided by the California Supreme Court in San Francisco. It is very much a San Francisco story.

The Mayor of Castro Street would be so proud of all that has been accomplished since he won his election in 1977 and died for the cause in 1978. We completed the fight in California 31 years after his historic win as the first openly gay elected official in the world.

This one is for you, Harvey Milk. Thanks for the showing us that we could live openly and be accepted. Were it not for your faith in people, we wouldn't have this historic day.

Remember the Alamo Square

The San Francisco Water Balloon Battle of the Alamo Square will be held in Alamo Square on June 11 at 6:00 p.m.

Those supporting the Mexicans in the conflict will wear blue. Those supporting the Texans will wear brown.



Costumes are encouraged. It is BYOWB (Bring Your Own Water Baloons or Water Blaster).

The event is organized by the BYOBW race organizers (Big Wheel Race).

Flying Terror at Marina Green

A group of young men, calling their group the Fighting Kite Brigade, following traditions from Pakistan and Afghanistan, brought chaos to the air above the Marina Green in San Francisco today. They wielded killer kites in their evil, heinous desire to bring down each other's kites.

The same group was responsible for a previous attack on Bernal Hill a few months ago. See their propaganda video here. They were even brazen enough to post an open invitation to Kite Fight to attract spectators to today's event.


The event was free. Proceeds support the charity, Crack Houses for Humanity. The charity builds crack houses for crack addicts.

The same group also puts on the Urban Iditarod and Urban Golf, The $25,000 Pyramid Scheme, Buzzed Bee, and What's Your Answer events. They also organize the Valentine's Day Pillow Fight (see previous post)

Oh, the humanity!

Stadium of the Dogs

San Franciscans will be voting on a ballot measure this fall to redevelop the former Hunters Point Navy Shipyard into a new stadium for the San Francisco Forty-Niners football team, retail, and housing project, 25% of which will be affordable housing.

Attached to this is the redevelopment of the current Candlestick Park football stadium into a new arena to attract large events and concerts. Candlestick Point, where the proposed arena and current Monster Park stadium are located, forms the southeast corner of San Francisco City and County. The largest arena space in San Francisco currently only seats 8,000. The new arena would sit from 15,000 to 20,000.

The problem is that the neighborhoods around the proposed projects is considered one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the city. The only mass transit link has to go through the dangerous neighborhood to get to both Hunters Point and Candlestick Point.

While this may not harm the football stadium, where football games are largely played during the day, the arena's events will mostly be held at night. Will parents feel comfortable sending their teenagers off on the Third Street light rail through those neighborhoods to and from the proposed arena late at night?

The location reminds me of Kansas City's white elephant of an arena, Kemper Arena, placed in the West Bottoms. It is in an area of the city down the hill from downtown Kansas City, home to mostly abandoned warehouses and cattle pens.

The suburbanites never felt safe in the area where mostly homeless people resided at night. Although the neighborhood has changed somewhat in the thirty years since the arena was built, it never could recover from the perception of danger.

Further hampering the success of the site was lack of mass transportation and lack of restaurants and bars around the arena. Kansas City recently built a new arena downtown to correct its original error.

It looks like San Francisco is headed in the same direction as Kansas City. It will have a white elephant of an arena if the ballot measure passes for the following reasons.

1. Public Perception of Danger - the city will not be able to change the perceptions of San Franciscans who have believed the surrounding neighborhoods to be dangerous for their entire lives. I don't think that the Hunters Point home development project stands much of a chance for the same reason.

2. Lack of Mass Transit - there is no BART station near the project for those who live outside San Franciso to use. The closest one is several miles away in another city. They would have to bus people in from that station. The MUNI Metro train that services the area is the Third Street train. It doesn't currently go to the park, passing about a mile west of the current stadium site. Again, it would require special buses. I know I wouldn't feel safe taking the T-Line to the park or back late at night even if it went directly to the new arena.

3. Lack of Service Businesses - the area doesn't have any restaurants or bars to make it an all-evening event location. Even if the businesses succeed in Hunters Point, they are too far away from the proposed arena site, separated by the Bay itself, to be helpful to the success of the arena.

While I applaud the city's desire to redevelop the old stadium, it would be better to focus on the Hunters Point development and raze the old arena. Let the market determine the best use. Or perhaps put a great public park in the location that has draws of its own.

The arena site should be located closer to downtown in the SOMA area or in South Beach/China Basin near the AT&T Ballpark. That site has several mass transit connections and sufficient bars and restaurants to make it a successful site for concerts or sports events. It doesn't have the public perception of dangerousness to fight, either.

These Streets Have Too Many Names for Me

Walking around over the weekend with a visiting friend, I realized just how I can't remember the names of the streets of San Francisco. I still need a map to figure out where a particular street is. It takes time, I guess.

It reminded me of Paolo Nutini's song, These Streets. He wrote it about being overwhelmed by London when he moved there from Glasgow.

Nutini is one of my favorite artists. Enjoy his soulful voice. If his Scottish accent makes it hard for you to understand the words, check out the lyrics.

From My Point of View

Here are a few pictures from around town.

First is a picture of a reflection on the pavement in Chinatown.


















Next is a picture of a jellyfish on the beach.




















Finally, a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge from Baker Beach, in the Presidio.

Doughnuts...mmmm

Pudding-Topped Bamboo Charcoal Donut from Crown & Fancy Deli
Originally uploaded by yusheng

When Flickr started allowing videos to be posted to its site last week, an angry cry of protest rose across all of computerdom. Videos mixing willy nilly with photos on the same site? What an affront to family values!

But one group of people weren't all that put out by the affrontery of Flickr. They began a mock protest claiming that they demanded doughnuts from Flickr.

Flickr heard their demands. Flickr (or at least an employee of Flickr) is buying one doughnut for each "protester" on April 16 at 11:00 a.m. at Bob's Doughnuts on Polk Street in San Francisco.

But since the announcement of Yahoo's concession, Flickr users around the world have taken up the cause. Groups around the U.S. and even the U.K. are meeting up to share in the sugary protest goodness.

You know Homer will be there. Will you?