— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
While on the subject of people in costume, be sure to check out Daniel Jarvis's slightly untimely video about this year's Halloween in SF. It's packed full of fun stuff like a human jellyfish (above), a lightsaber duel on Divis, zombies making out, a Teletubby that wants to poison you, and a shark that looks like she's sexually attracted to a parking meter. Check it:
Halloween SF 2010 from daniel jarvis on Vimeo.
— 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 Zach Perkins |
Batter down the hatches and clear the tubes; the internet is going to explode. This apex of awesome Cyber Monday deal, highlighted as a “Confusing holiday gift” by Groupon Santa Cruz, is totally worth ~33.3% of the ten free Groupon bucks they give you for signing up. For a nominal fee, Steve Gadlin will draw a picture of a cat as you describe it, and may even document the process for the interwebz.
I've submitted a request for a giant cat with lazer eyes shooting a dragon fly above a cityscape. In 5-7 business days we'll see how Steve's rendition stacks up against the original.
No word yet on what this man may be capable of if his requests are denied…
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
In an effort to make the internet explode, the SF Zoo decided to host a Thanksgiving feast for their 14 lemurs:
It was a Thanksgiving feast to remember for the lemurs! The Zoo's Taste of the Wild Catering and Leaping Lemur Cafe Chef, Robert Ulucan, created and prepared an unforgettable feast for 14 of the Zoo's lemurs!
Unfortunately, one lemur was pretty pissed off and wasn't having a good time. Also, no shots of the lemurs attempting to drink the wine? COME ON GUYS.
— By Jenny Wilson |
Forget about that bomb turkey roasting in the oven, those cute little yummy maple buttercup cakelets, and that super delish pumpkin pie you've yet to consume, and go ahead and feast your eyes on this baby. This poster created by Kevin Dart of Passion Pictures was originally meant for San Francisco based cosmetic company, Benefit. Apparently, this sweet rendition of Hyde St. didn't fit the “Bad Gal” branding of the company and they nixed it. Thanks to Kevin Dart for putting it up on his blog for the rest of us to drool over. So far, not sure if it's available for purchase, but it really is a great reminder of how beautiful the wharf was before that flame blowing Turkey took over.
Happy Thanksgiving you guys.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
Last night was one gnarly scene at Bender's. For some ungodly reason, the Vampires Motorcycle Club decided to do burnouts on a frozen turkey for an entire hour, which, as you could imagine, smelled lovely. Following the unbridled debauchery, they strapped the mauled carcass to some unsuspecting person's bike rack, much to the delight of bar patrons and chain smokers.
Verdict? The show was mouth-fuckingly delicious.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
SFMOMA's blog, Open Space, is letting us know what you'd collect if you lived on Capp St. for 17 years:
“The Gauntlet” is what my partner, Cliff Hengst and I have long dubbed the block of Capp St. between our apartment and our art studios in the Mission. On any given day you can find— through the obstacle course of trash, rotting food, feces, needles, and other junk— random personal ephemera: scrawled notes, posted messages, discarded family photographs, and abandoned letters. I even once found a box of bizarre Chinese “gentlemen” magazines from the early eighties (Score!).
The whole thing reads like a bizarre version of PostSecret set on a block with warehouses, homelessness, prostitution, motorcycles, crack, and The Uptown. Check it.
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
My first Fall in San Francisco, I was introduced to a drinking contest fit only for masochists and the insensible. No, I'm not talking about Whiskey Wednesday, I'm talking about a marathon soy nog drinking contest. The rules were simple: as soon as soy nog, the vegan version egg nog, was made commercially available, each person had to drink as much as possible before Christmas day. The winner of the contest was awarded the respect of his peers and the cost of a wider pair of jeans.
I was young and naive then. A lad of 23 years of age, believing I could conquer the world. The forefather of this competition was a maniacal vegan who went by the name of John, who was rumored to have once consumed over 900 popsicles in a Summer on a bet. Surely I of no eating contest experience could take him down.
As competition began in November 2007, I quickly established a pace of one liter of nog a day. After all, nog washes down a PB&J quite well. But it wasn't enough. Neil and Matt were easily polishing off 2 liters a day. In an attempt to catch up, I guzzled 4 liters in one evening. Later, the judges ruled that nog that was later retched up could not be counted towards one's total.
Shopping patterns were studied. Competitors would go to Rainbow 30 minutes ahead of their opponents to clear the shelves. Soon it was learned that Whole Foods carried a nog containing 60 calories less per liter than that of Rainbow's. So we went there instead, clearing out the shelves.
Taunting photos of nog stockpiles were emailed around. Pictures of one's Tetrapack body count were common.
Meals were completely replaced by nog. Milk and cereal became nog and cereal. Later, just nog. Friday night beers became nog and rum. Or “Nog Russians.” For the desperate, “vodka nogs.” Now! Dasher, now! Dancer, now! Prancer and Vixen, on! Comet, on! Cupid, on! Donder and Blitzen! Get thy to a liquor store!
I ended up losing the competition by a mere 2 liters to Neil, but at least I bested John “900 Popsicles” C.'s record.
Ahem. Sorry, what was the point of this? Oh yeah, Fabric8 is hosting a “Nog-In” on Dec. 18th, in which they will crown who in the city makes the best nog. While it should be a good time, you should beware; that shit can get out of hand fast.
(More info on the Nog-In at SFoodie / You're the man now, Nogg. photo by Laura Beck)
— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |
If you're not on Twitter, you might not have known that it rained Saturday. And what a spectacle it was! While most rational people were hiding under overhangs and complaining, the bartender of the 500 Club walked out of the bar, jumped onto the street and just stood their looking up in complete awe. Perhaps this was his first bath in a while.
— 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.
