Whimsical Bullshit

San Francisco Bay Comics: TOTS Perplexed

I'm up in Portland right now for Stumptown Comics Fest and was too busy getting ready for it to illustrate a Missed Connection for you heathens, so here's a SF Bay Comic that I've been holding onto for a time like this. It's based on a poem that a buddy of mine, Chris Kalman, wrote while he was staying on a friend's roof in the Mission. He didn't have a pen or notebook on him at the time and so this is a poem about having to write a poem by texting it to yourself on a cell phone.

Trio of Brazen Badasses Boost Piece of Construction Equipment, Film the Joyride For Our Entertainment

Jay sends us this blurred video (presumably so to protect the identities of the awesomely idiotic parties involved), noting:

I heard this Bobcat getting stolen last night from under my window at the end of Linda St. I was surprised SFMissionProtector wasn't on it cause it's the same jobsite where Bunny Boy got busted. Somebody found it up the road and incriminated themselves on YouTube. “Filming this crime spree is our best idea ever!”

The video (which I've since uploaded to my own YouTube acct, should the original be removed in a fit of better judgment) remarks:

Found this on Lapidge St. at 3 a.m. Took it to 18th. First time driver.

Kids Going Nuts on Bikes in San Francisco Set to Late-90s Pop Rap

I'd like to write about everything that makes this video solid—the camera angles, the editing, the riding, and so on—but, really, sometimes we all need an excuse to listen to Juvenile's Back That Azz Up again.

Plus, it's a good watch if you're stuck at work and want to get jealous about what you could be doing outside in this amazing weather right now. (Who are we kidding? You'd be at the park like everyone else.)

[Vimeo, via Macaframa]

♫ The Mission is Bitchin' ♫

Someone recently hipped me to the fact that Valencia Tool & Die-era synthpunk group The Units had a song called “The Mission is Bitchin'” andholyhellIcan'tstoplisteningtoit.  Seriously, this track is crack—it's like listening to Devo if Devo'd been raised by a Nintendo.  And the lyrics!  Although it was recorded back when Valencia was all punk venues, lesbian bars, and empty storefronts (1980), it still pretty much sounds like your average whimsical day in the modern day Mission District.

Give it a listen below, and feel free to read the lyrics at the top of the comments:

Pac-Man Collage

This is only a sampling of all the Pac-Man characters and icons currently painted and glued to the Valencia Art Wall.  To see the rest, you'll have to head over and see it for yourself.

(Also, apologies for the desecrated image of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson in the second picture.  I'm sure that sonuvabitch would shoot himself if he knew some punk compared him to Nixon.)

Vag Rabbit

I don't know, man.  I've spent a couple of evenings examining vaginas, and this is no vagina.  It doesn't look much like a rabbit, for that matter.  Maybe some dude with hairy palms flashing a peace sign.  Or an upside down portrait of Kang and Kodos.  Hell, I'd even entertain this being an inverted gingerbread man grabbing his junk.  But a vag rabbit?  Naw, man.  No fucking way.

All Hail the Cheetoritto

I love Taco Bell.  Not for their “food,” but because they are the gastronomical incarnation of America's greatest hopes and aspirations.  A food product resembling a burrito stuffed with FritosDoritos tacos?  It's this very freedom—the freedom to take what we want to eat (MSG, imitation cheese product) and turn it into a bona fide meal that costs a buck—that makes America the best country on God's trash-littered Earth.

That said, I have my issues with Taco Bell.  Namely, Fritos and Doritos suck.  As anyone who has ever smoked pot and doesn't value their body can tell you, Cheetos are the superior bag-based snack food.  And there's also the issue that digesting Taco Bell feels a lot like dying.

But my hunger for Mexican fast food adulterated by American junk food remains unchecked.  And that's where Taqueria La Cumbre comes in.

Some four months ago, the Valencia Street taqueria (and claimed inventor of the Mission Burrito) began selling a “nacho burrito,” in which a regular burrito is stuffed full of tortilla chips.  SFist hailed it as “Mmmm, good,” noting, “while the chips did get a bit soggy, they provided a necessary buffer to the burrito's inherent one-dimensional flavor and greasiness factors.”

So why not a Cheeto Burrito?

This particular item isn't listed on their menu because of copyright issues (and because they don't actually sell it), but it's among the best veggie burritos I've downed in some time.  As SFist remarked in their review of the original, the texture of the cheese puff adds the necessary crunch to take the burrito to the next level.  But, unlike the tortilla chip, Cheetos don't get all limp and soggy; rather, they maintain their proud stick-like rigid munch throughout the entire ordeal.

Plus, the cheese product on Cheetos far surpasses any real cheese you could dump in a burrito.  When combined with grease, it begins to soak through your tortilla, giving you a pseudo-Taco Bell-style Cheetos-flavored exterior.  “Mmm, good,” indeed.

Perhaps my only regret was not getting the burrito stuffed with the Flamin' Hot variety, but you need not make that same mistake.  Just walk into the corner store at 16th and Valencia, put down $1.09 for your Cheetos bag of choice, then go two doors down to La Cumbre and order a Nacho Burrito made with your freshly acquired bag of Cheetos.  You won't regret it.

Serra Bowl's Karaoke Lounge Will Be Sorely Missed

Serra Bowl's imminent closing is understandably bumming out bowlers and Big Lebowski fan boys and girls alike, but one aspect of its shuttering is oft-overlooked: the loss of its much loved karaoke bar.  Luckily for those of us who are more prone to making an ass out of ourselves on the stage than the lanes, Todd Wanerman of The Bay Bridged penned a fine look at what we're losing:

The impeccable vintage 49ers photos and headlines have been taken down, but, other than that, nothing here suggests that Serra Bowl is about to become – on April 15th – the latest venerable, authentic Bay Area institution to fall victim to time and tide. A steady parade of humanity flows through its oddly small and hard-to-find double glass doors.

In the denuded Sports Lounge, the notoriously cranky DJ is presiding over a jubilantly defiant (or were they defiantly jubilant?) throng. Every few minutes or so, he reminds the assembled that April 14th will see no karaoke, but a closing night party we won’t want to miss.

Keep reading for additional words and pictures.

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