Maybe these are old news, but I just noticed them this afternoon while walking the gigantic sidewalks of Valencia. I've been busy taking photos of the sidewalks around 6th and Market, which are just as beautifully adorned with shards of crackpipe glass and flattened cans of Steel Reserve.
Boston is a really weird place. I knew it would be in the 80s so I thought I would kick it with a hot pair of Levi cutoffs and fit in with my Somerville friends. Once again, I was the lamest person at the party. Unlike the Dolores Park uniform of choice, Boston, from the authentic hipsters to up-and-coming young professionals, is bound by the common uniform of post-ironic Khaki pants. Are these Boston's version of the cutoff?
This is truly the best/worst thing I've seen all day:
- The candidate never looks into the camera
- There is a puppy wearing rabbit ears
- There is a puppy flying a plane
(photo ripped off from Plan 59)
Ok my real boss (not KevMo) is quite literally throwing shit at me right now, so I gotta make this quick. Here's a few key points I picked up on while skimming this article (WHAT THE FUCK AM I, A JOURNALIST?!)
- For the last 5 or so years, PBR has been owned by a dead guy.
- Pabst Brewing is the country's 5th largest beer supplier (2.7% of total market share).
- Pabst is a “virtual brewer,” owning the brand name. The product is brewed under contract by MillerCoors LLC.
- Pabst Brewing also owns the brand rights to Schlitz, Lone Star, and Colt 45.
- The new owner, C. Dean Metropoulos (I'D LIKE TO CHANGE MY LAST NAME TO THIS PLZ) is expected to put his 29 and 26 year old sons in key positions in the company. An attempt to maintain PBR's young and hip brand integrity?
Do you think that PBR will undergo a shift in brand identity now that it's owned by a man who made his fortune managing brands like Chef Boyardee, Duncan Hines, Bumble Bee Tuna, and (S.F. SPOILER ALERT) Ghiradelli Chocolates? Will PBR go (even more) mainstream? Feel free to hate.
I have no idea if this story is 100% legit or not, but the tale told by commenter Rigoberto Hernandez is worth sharing:
That picture is too funny and nostalgic.
That is Javier (probably not his real name). He lives in a garage with five other people in San Jose, including his brother Hugo (probably not his real name either). He is originally from Puebla, Mexico where he was an artisan. He worked seven days a week selling his merchandise in a market. Then business started to slow down and he immigrated, crossing through Arizona, leaving his wife back home.
He played the role of Jesus Christ in the re-enactment of his final hours, in Puebla. He said the beatings were real, but he was honored nonetheless for being given the role. He liked the role so much that he was considering going through a surgery where they perforate holes in his hands where real nails would go through as he hung on the cross.
Nowadays he wakes up every morning at 5 a.m. to go to Salinas (except Monday or if it's raining) and buys fresh fruit from a farm off the Crazy Horse Canyon. He buys an entire box (double the size of what he is holding) for $6 to $8, depending on supply and sells them for $20.
He was my favorite “fresero.” I wish him well.
Anyways, be sure to check out the full article for some hilarious SFgate comments and recipes that sound delicious. “Peppered Portobello Mushroom Sandwich With Caper Aioli, Caramelized Fennel & Onion.” Shit, I don't even know what half of those worlds mean. It must be good.
Sometimes art cars just come straight from your patriotic-ass, peace-makin', Clinton-supportin', dog-lovin', old-school thug-ass heart, and it doesn't matter that you've only got four colors of paint. Why? Because you love America, and Tupac rules. (via carinabot)