I don't think before I type's Posts
SCENE I: "Exclusivity is a Bitch." by Kevin Montgomery
As one who appreciates the finer aspects of wearing $5 jean shorts purchased from thrift stores and paying $800 a month to live in a walk-in closet smack in the middle of a Latino neighborhood, I've always been fascinated by the Mexican Party Bus. Legend has it that it was started in the early 90s to provide a fun way for Latinos living in the East Bay to check out SF salsa and dance clubs. "A secret the Latinos of the Bay Area keep to themselves," wrote one of the Bus's first Yelp reviewers. Then a few years ago, white people discovered it. Rental costs soared. Forever gentrified.
So there I was on a rainy Friday night. No plans for the evening. Standing outside of Dirty Thieves after drinking two 16s and a shot from the well, keeping my buddy company as he sucked down cigarettes. Aimless nights such as these never end well. Drink more well whiskey. Drink another pint. Get the brilliant idea to walk to Pop's. Swing into the corner store and buy a tallcan to sip on along the way. Get to Pop's. Do another shot. Do another pint. Wake up in your bed swimming in an ocean of misery and regret. Do it all over again next week.
As the crushing reality of the night's direction set in, the Mexican Party Bus began boarding for its departure from Dirty to some new and possibly exotic location. "Jon, this is a sign from God." We do our best to blend in with the well-dressed crowd and board the bus.
This plan might have worked. But see, Jon was wearing a long trench coat to keep him dry and therefore looked sketch. I was looking like myself, which is inherently displeasing to the eye. We neared the back of the decked-out school bus--because that's where the cool kids sit--and were immediately called out for our lack of class, familiarity, and aestetic. "You're not supposed to be here." "Yes we are, Kate invited us on. Kate's really nice." "We don't know any Kate's." "Yes you do… Kate Sheppard." "You need to get off the bus."
Called out. We turn to the front of the bus. The isles are packed with drunk kids. "Let's go out the emergency exit." "YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT." The assertive young chap kicking us off the bus stands up and gets right in our face. Last time a stranger asserted himself like that to me, I punched him straight in the face. Then I punched two of his friends. Then I got thrown through a glass table. I don't get into bar fights anymore. We walk out the front of the bus, knowing that some random Mission kids are not worthy of such adventures.
SCENE II: "The Mexican Party Bus: Cultural Anthropology Report" by Alan Fineberg
I was leaving Dirty Thieves, trailing after some blog bros I had been "chillin' with" and ready to call it an early Friday evening. Imagine my mild confusion when they were nowhere to be found.
Then, out of nowhere, two of said blog bros were kicked off of the Party Bus.
They dared me to board the bus, and because of my background in Anthropology I turned to Erika and said "I'll do it if you do it." She said she would and so then I did but she didn't.
Now I am on the bus and the bus people say, "Were those your friends? They were d-bags." They were, and they were. They said the bus was going to Alameda.
I waved goodbye to the "d-bags" and Erika as the bus pulled away. The windows were steamy and I couldn't see where we were going. Hopefully not Alameda.
I met some of the nice, trusting people on the bus, and conducted some participant interviews. They are interested in two things: drinking and dancing.
A third interest for some of the bus people was sitting languidly, hoping to calm their roiling stomachs as the bus lurched this way and that.
Two of the bus people got bored and decided it would be fun to kick me off the Mexican Party Bus, but I had buy-in from the other bus people and after a brief confrontation they admitted they were "power tripping." Fortunately, I was permitted to remain in the bus and continue to live amongst the bus people.
The bus people were also interested in stopping the bus for frequent "piss breaks," probably because the Party Bus does not contain a toilet.
After the third stop, I disembarked and found myself in the Tenderloin (which is not in Alameda). I walked out onto the streets of San Francisco, wondering when I would find myself suddenly on a Mexican Party Bus again, what I might learn, and where it might take me.
Note: this guest column was written by Alyssa Perry, Mission District ex-pat
Six months ago, I packed my bags and got the fuck outta dodge with a one way ticket to Seoul, South Korea. Sure, I miss lazy days in Dolores Park, PBRs, and a drunken late night burrito from El Farolito. But to be honest though, the change hasn’t been that drastic except maybe for those methamphetine-laced hazy nights at Delirium (drugs are actually illegal here in South Korea…think of it as rehab with booze). I have been lucky enough to be living in a neighborhood which might mirror the Mission (minus the all the yellow people... good thing I fit in).
Exhibit A: Every day that I wake up and walk to the bus stop to go teach English to eager little children (weird, right?), I walk past the street art that is plastered across the walls of my neighborhood’s underpass. It reminds me of wanna-be street artists (think Banksy) that inconspicuously place their shit around the Mission.
Exhibit B: San Francisco is known for its snobbery of cafes and fair trade coffee kiosks. Good thing I didn’t venture far because I can see many kids in their leather jackets lined up outside Standing Coffee kiosk to purchase over-priced, burnt coffee. Or catch a glimpse of the masses at ChansBros on their trust-fund macs writing the next great screenplay about their lives abroad. It is really like being back at Blue Bottle or Ritual, respectively.
Exhibit C: The ultimate desire for a burrito can be found in the land of kimchi. As much as I miss the taquerias and a good Tecate (is there such a thing?), I can grab my fix at Taco Chili Chili. Sure it tastes like a regurgitated Mexican fart, but still it is something I can eat after a soju-induced late night.
Exhibit D: Although I may have left my friends and favorite bar hangouts, it doesn’t seem like there isn’t really a difference in my friends. It’s like they just got different names.
Left: Seoul cool kids. Right: Mission cool kids (photo by Emilie Furda).I will admit that I sure do miss the resident homeless man who regularly took a shit on my stoop in SF. But there is one that sits in the famed underpass of my neighborhood. Except it is pretty much 7 degrees Fahrenheit and he hasn’t been there in awhile. Also those wasted days at the 500 Club? Well I head over to the HBC, a local bar, and drink boxed wine. You heard me right. Boxed. Fucking. Wine. Consider it a good day if the drunk Korean owner is there and he whips out his penis in front of the bar (this has been known to happen on several occasions).
So if you are looking for a selfish, holier than thou life journey that allows you to teach the future of the world (since you know Asians will succeed at world domination), I propose to take your fixie, your pretentiousness, and your desire to drink shittier beer than PBR and hop on the next plane to Seoul. Us, former San Franciscans, need you.
Note: At the request of a company associated with the show, this post was temporarily removed and edited.
Butler, alleged drug kingpin and your mom's boss, on ABC 7 with his 'PI Mommies'Earlier today, CBS 5 broke the story that Norman Wielsch, the "high-profile commander for the Central Contra Costa Narcotics Enforcement Team," was arrested today for "distributing for sales methamphetamine, marijuana and steroids." Ok. Whatever. Yet another re-hash of the crooked narc cop selling dope on the side, big deal. Totes ironic. But then there was this gem...
Wielsch was arrested without incident along with 49-year-old Christopher Butler of Concord, Gregory said. Like Wielsch, Butler is also facing several felony counts related to the selling of methamphetamines, marijuana and steroids.
If that second name rings a bell to you, it should. Christopher Butler is the owner and lead investigator of Butler & Associates Private Investigations, a Concord based PI firm [As 2/15/11 their website has been taken down] that has received a lot of attention over the last year. Dubbed the 'Mommy PI Agency' by the media, Butler gained noteriety in local and national press for his 'Charlie's Angels' team of middle aged, soccer mom-looking decoys and PIs.
Over the last year the PR machine has been churning almost non-stop for Butler and his 'Angels'. From local TV appearances on ABC 7's View From the Bay, to national coverage on NBC's Today Show; three of the PIs even did a glamour spread in People Magazine in March, 2010. The attention seemed to work.
In approximently March of 2010, a TV production company began production on a reality series. Whether PI Moms of San Francisco (no really, that's the title) was greenlit for either a pilot or a full series order remains unclear, as the network has yet to begin their own PR cycle. That's usually a pretty bad sign for a show that was rumored to begin airing in March, 2011. Butler's own arrest probably isn't going to help much either...
Butler, an ex-cop himself, is spending the night in jail with Norman Wielsch. Ironically, Butler & Associates operates online under the URL Uncover-Truth.com. Now that the truth behind this media crazy ex-cop and local Private Eye is coming out, I don't find myself asking 'did he do it?'; I honestly don't give a shit. All I really want to know is if the 'Mommy PIs' were involved in any of the alleged drug dealings. CROOKED DRUG DEALING PI Moms of San Francisco, now that's a show I would watch...
UPDATE: The Chronicle just put two and two together and chimmed in. Butler and Wielsch had served as police officers in Antioch together. In addition to their alleged conspiracy to distribute, the Chronicle is reporting the following charges being levied:
The two men were booked on suspicion of conspiracy, embezzlement, burglary, and possession and transportation of controlled substances. Wielsch is being held in lieu of $660,000 bail. Butler's bail was set at $840,000.
Butler featured with his 'PI Moms' in People MagazineThis guest post comes to us from Cosmic Amanda, editor of Haverhill Fever, a blog dedicated to Boston's hipster suburb of Haverhill, MA (yes, Boston actually has hipster suburbs). While she's never lived in San Francisco (the horror!), she always salts her avacado, has been caught graffiting public property, never liked MGMT in the first place, and prefers an It's-It to any other ice cream sandwich. Occassionally she'll be chiming in about the Bay Area music scene and telling you what local bands would sound like if you saw them at T.T. the Bear's.
As a college radio deejay, occasional blog tourist, and lover of all things San Francisco I'm always on the lookout for new music from the Bay Area. Lately, I've been really digging chillwave musician (and apparently fellow aspirational San Franciscan) NanosauR.
This promotional video for his single Bravery sparked a total deja vu moment. It turns out he borrowed the same 1984 footage that Jane gushed over back in May. (Either that or Jane really did manage to make it back to 1984 and this is one of those major paradoxes Doc Brown warned us about.) Check it:
Oddly, the worn out haze of old videotape always reminds of the hottest days of 1980's summer. And this really works with NanosauR's blurry vocals, totally amping up the dreamy summer vibe of the track. Plus, I'm not gonna lie- the Pinback sample gives me a girl boner.
The rest of his debut EP, Shades, is equally awesome and includes another stand out track, Shades, which makes pretty tight use of a Computer Magic sample. With each track NanosauR is proving he's not just some kid who makes music in his bedroom with an off-brand laptop and a korg. I mean, don't get me wrong, he is. He just happens to be really good at it.
Download the whole thing for free, put it on full blast, and enjoy this little heatwave you guys are having. Trust me, as someone currently surrounded by six foot snowbanks, it's the right thing to do.
If you're interested in having your Thursday night end poorly, then do make your way to Bender's tonight for what will assuredly be a miserable time.
Unfortunately, Uptown Almanac has publishing for an entire year now. Therefore, we're going to enjoy a beer or two to mark the occasion. As you might imagine, it's going to be a traumatic experience for all in attendance.
If a festivity such as this appeals to you, show up to Bender's Bar & Grill THIS Thursday, Jan. 13th at 9pm.
Important details:
- $1 PBR.
- DJ Spinnerty spinning funk, soul, and all things greasy.
- Cheap food over at the grill.
- No crying.
Can't wait to see you there!
(Also, there is a Facebook thingy for those of you into that sorta thing)
(Editor's Note: this was authored by reader Neb, resident of Alamo Square, "The land halfway between the Mission and the Marina." Frankly, I'm surprised anyone reading this blog would have gone to Union St. Fest, but whatever.)
Having the cultural depth of an MMA arena crowd in Ed Hardy shirts, the Union Street Festival managed to degrade my expectations of the SUV Strollerfest of babies who were conceived at Circa. Held just blocks away from the Marina, the bridge and tunnel crowd gave the people of Fremont an excuse to rival the Jersey Shore cast in the daytime. Rushing over 5 hours earlier then their normal blowout voyage in a race to the bottom, proving Union Street as the most pointless Festival in San Francisco.
While the rest of San Francisco was enjoying the sunshine by biking through Golden Gate Park, debating the merits of bros icing bros while drinking equally lame New Belgium in Dolores Park, or perfecting their papercraft wizardry of blunt rolling, B&T managed to cram together in Gary Coleman-sized, walled-off beer gardens in the middle of the street.
Outsourcing the arts directive to Sausalito photography galleries with the appeal of new tourist markets, the booths consisted of crafts too American Apparel for Indie Mart, Yupster corporations targeting people with actual jobs, and a get your picture taken with Gavin "Batman" Newson photo op. The rest of the tents consisted of generic overpriced festival food found at any event but this time hungry patrons were only constrained by their muscle shirts, not Outside Lands border fences.
A Marina acquaintance described their turn at the overrun, Union Street shit show as "horrible. So overwhelming with drunken douchebags." (Her words, not mine). Look for next year's festival to be sponsored by orange spray-on tanfriendly zero percent interest rate ING. See you next year, Circa 2011.
Editor's note: Although the information in the post was accurate, it has been removed by request.
-KM
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