— By Jon Skulski |
The lunar eclipse is an experience that brings us back to our primitive nature. A state to marvel at the cosmos with undiminished wonder. A time to look up on unyielding beauty and to confirm, as Carl Sagan said, that 'we are children equally of the earth and the sky'.
Make sure to get stoned and snap a pic with your iPhone.
“Not as good as the new Tron.”
— By Jenny Wilson |
View from the top of Coit Tower via William Hereford
Recently, my buddy Will posted the picture above on his blog. He took the photo last time he was in San Francisco on business from Brooklyn, and on his free time managed to venture all the way to the top of Coit Tower. Well, color me lazy because I've lived in SF and the Bay for around 20 years now and have never so much as looked up when I pass by Coit Tower. I guess it's just one of those tourist things that you think you'll get to someday, but really, you could actually care less to ever experience it. For example, when I lived in New York my friends would visit and would want to go to the Statue of Liberty all the time. If you've ever lived in NY, most would agree that venturing to the Statue of Liberty would be just as much torture as having to spend multiple hours in the Times Square M&M's store (my own personal hell). So, when friends would suggest that the Statue was something that they wanted to see, I simply would tell them that there are terrorists there, and if they wanted to see it they'd have to risk it by themselves. Once I took a friend on the Staten Island Ferry to see the Statue “from a safe distance,” but I digress. This post is about the Coit Tower.
After seeing Will's photograph, I totally have a new outlook on Coit Tower. First, it has sick-ass views and, after skimming its Wikipedia page, it has a pretty interesting history involving a cross-dressing, cigar-smoking woman amassing a fortune gambling around town.
I can't wait to put off visiting the tower for another few years.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
Last week, you might have heard news that someone drove their car right up into the (vacant) Virgin Megastore on Market. SFist originally speculated that it was too much egg nog at a holiday party, but then the SF Weekly saved the day and tracked down a witness. The story wasn't nearly as exciting as drunk driving, rather a semi took a turn too wide, hit the car and sent it flying into the store. However, what was interesting was the witness's recollection of what happened immediately after the crash:
[Eyewitness Benjamin Johnson] notes that he was “surprised how few people ran in there to see if [the driver] was hurt. There was a group of about 20 people and most of them took out their phones to take pictures.”
Snaps all around.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
Growing up, I had these damn cats that would bat any ornaments they could reach to the ground and swat them around until they smashed into pieces. Then the cats would sleep on the arm of the couch while I had to sweep up the debris. Well, if you also have owned or current own cats on a war path, perhaps Photojojo's DIY photo ornament party is for you.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
As I paced around Civic Center searching for a place to discharge all the whiskey in my bladder, I overheard a Santa, clutching his treasured Bud Light Lime, joyfully exclaim, “This is the new Bay to Breakers.”
Perhaps this costumed connoisseur of fine beverages is onto something. After all, B2B is once again under pressure to 'rein it in' and have vowed that there will be no alcohol at the 2011 race. Maybe this is the new event in which the Mission, the Marina, and Livermore can come together for an afternoon of costumed intoxication? The events certainly are becoming similar. Let me submit the following into evidence:
THE ROUTE: Much like Bay to Breakers, Santacon follows an established route. However, unlike the silly bastards that organize B2B, the anarchic masterminds behind Santarchy have split up the race to the bottom into three courses, thus reducing the chances that NIMBYs will get angry at the crowds by 66%.
BONUS: Santa has cemented itself as one of the San Francisco community events that have made some sort of public declaration that C.H.U.D.s live in the Marina/Japantown, thus earn the event “props” from the other 85% of the city. Excellent PR move.
THE COSTUMES: Just as Bay to Breakers has moved beyond the simple running outfit, Santa no longer views the simple Santa suit as adequate. As The Dude, caucasian in hand, and the costumed individuals photographed below show, Santacon is has transcended beyond the “Santa suit pub crawl” image to a full-on costumed adventure.
COSTUMES: Indiana Jones Santa demonstrates how the use of props can bring your Santacon experience to the next level.
COSTUMES: iPod Santa shows how vintage technology can make your tomfoolery culturally relevant.
COSTUMES: Chuck Taylor and PBR trucker hat Jesus speaks volumes. For lazy Santas, merely wearing what you would ordinarily wear, only pantless and pulling a cross, will suffice.
THE FLOATS: Just like B2B, floats are only increasing in presence during Santacon. Sure, the Oakland-SF Ferry might be more of a literal float than some Jersey Shore-themed travesty, but this year's Polk St. parade of flannel had some of those as well:
INTERESTED ON-LOOKERS: Just as B2B has necessitated a demand for stoop and rooftop parties along the route, Santacon has grown into such a spectacle that even crackheads don their Santa hats and peer out the windows of their SROs.
DISINTERESTED ON-LOOKERS: Much like B2B has a crowd of neighbors who roll their eyes at the antics going on around them, Molotov's had this dog who was contently sleeping as 50+ Santas guzzled shots and pints of PBR.
BADASS DUDES WITH AWESOME MUSTACHES THAT LOOK LIKE THEY KILL PEOPLE IN ROBERT RODRIGUEZ MOVIES: Word.
NO WHERE TO PEE: As Kasey Smith documented, Santa also has to pee on buildings.
RUNNING UPSTREAM: Similar to B2B's Salmon Run!, in which costumed salmon run the race backwards, the result of Santarchy 'going mainstream' was Bananarchy. Bananarchy, as you might have guessed, involves a bunch of hooligans in banana costumes running the wrong way through a crowd of Santas yelling silly stuff like “BANANAS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!”
What's the verdict? Compared to previous Santacons I've been to, the 2010 edition seemed to involve more brown bags from bodegas and walking from neighborhood to neighborhood than hanging out in bars. Then again, that might be because of the nice weather and the fact that the recession has made us all more broke-ass. Ultimately thought, it doesn't matter if Santacon has “replaced” B2B; this town will just take any excuse it can get to barf its way through the Western Addition.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
If you don't read Fecal Face, you're missing out on their fantastic Photo of the Day section. It usually has nothing to do with San Francisco, but they recently brought it back to the city for this Ocean Beach shot. No explanation was given as to why a man dumped a half gallon of whole on his head, but I guess that's what makes it art.
— By Zach Perkins |
You didn't go to the opening of Glen E. Friedman and Shepard Fairey's Fuck You All collab at 941 Geary, did you? Dude wtf, Josh already told you about the radness. Stop being such an armchair hipster. There really aren't enough hills between the Mission and the Loin to prevent you from biking there, I promise.
And if for some reason my condescension wasn't enough, now you can watch a very well produced short doc that will motivate you to get out the door and/or make you feel like a total asshole for not having already been.
Venue: 941geary.com/
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
Local badass John Reiss recently emailed us to share photos of the Bicycle Film Festival. They were nice and all, but I was particularly blown away by his shots from the SF Bike Expo. Really sick stuff. 'makes me wish I knew how to operate a camera. So yeah, check 'em out.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
The Chronicle featured a “virtual stroll” through the Mission today, much to the delight of SFgate commenters (“Thank goodness its only a virtual tour.” / “Beautiful. And smells way better from the comfort of my living room.”). On face value, there is nothing wrong with a virtual tour of the Mission, especially if it satiates C.W. Nevius fans' desire to explore the neighborhood. However, this photoessay is a bizarre journey into a Mission that no longer remains.
According to the Chronicle, 12 Galaxies is still open, Bruno's continues to serve food, a “quasi-verified” Banksy mural remains above Amnesia, and Excelsior is actually part of the Mission. They even mention Mr. TV, who I haven't seen on Valencia since the Summer.
Call me a hater, but shit like this just makes me feel pity for the dying publication.
(Side note, why does Google maps list Buena Vista and Dolores as the same park?)
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
Ocean Beach Bulletin was lucky enough to score an early copy of the new book, “San Francisco's Playland at the Beach: The Early Years” by local historian James Smith. While the history of a lost oceanfront amusement park might not be your thing, the book is packed with 400 photos and illustrations of the park in its glory years. OBB explains:
Smith’s book shows some of the best-known Playland rides in their earliest incarnations: the Aeroplane Swing; the Dodg-Em bumper cars; construction of the Shoot the Chutes water ride that was the first big attraction to the area (excluding the carousel and perhaps the Pacific Ocean). Check out the 1920s kids waiting in line wearing paperboy caps, ties and knickers. View the extravagant nuttiness and racist iconography of Topsy’s Roost, a dining and dancing venue with slides from elevated “chicken coop” booths to the dance floor below. Topsy, a ragamuffin character from Harriet Beecher Stowe’s “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” smiles in pickaninny glory on the restaurant façade. San Francisco was no island of racial sensitivity when it came to selling chicken dinners in the 1920s.
The post goes on the talk about getting beat up for your It's-It money and whiskey being sold in coffee cups. Sounds like it was my kind of place.
Read on or buy the book.