I don't think before I type's Comments

Emilie Ridley is South African by way of Cape Cod. He attended Evergreen college in the late 70s, where he experimented with acid in a polygamist tribe before moving to San Francisco to open a biodegradable dog kennel business. He has been here ever since. This is his story...

I've entered a wretched period of my life in which I am a drooling narcoleptic, and it is not the consequence of my senesence. It's the Klonopin I've been prescribed so that I may stroll past this grotesque neighbourhood mural:

My physchiatrist doctor (she later found these digital images here) dubbed it "The Sum of All Fear," ignoring my suffering as I recounted its details to her-- if I were a Commonwealth solider narrating the Battle of Okinawa, would she have been kinder?

Regardless, I was forced to dictate my daily run-ins with McGangBangers in my rotting neighbourhood, the monstrous food creatures haunting my mind's eye in flashbacks from psychonautic days past, and the humiliation and guilt from catsup packet wielding hooligans who splattered my Mercedes windshield with murderous tomato artillery, causing me to strike and break the leg of Brontë, my poor, over-excited Pomeranian.

Brontë in better days

My panic attacks have been quelled, but until canine Klonopin is availble, I dare not bring Brontë on jaunts past this monstrosity. The Hamburglar has robbed me of something far greater than ham. This ham man has beaten my sanity to a pulp, and stolen my peace of mind.

Previously on Uptown Almanac

• The Most Impotant Letter of Them All

Amoeba Music's Amoeblog, the source that broke news of Jeanmarie Guenot's NIMBY bullshit against Slim's, appears to have deleted all their posts about situation.  While Amoeba and "Billyjam" don't have any thoughts on the matter, it looks like Jeanmarie and her proxy NIMBY thug "Lisa" (who may or may not be Lisa Bass, who may or may not be a glorified software saleswoman, who may or may not be the leader of the Golden Gate University's Toastmasters chapter) are pressing on with their campaign of threatening iconic businesses and working to shut down everything that makes San Francisco the bastion of fun, freedom, and dance we all love.

Perhaps even more troubling than the fight Slim's has been enduring is the complacency of the press and our Board of Supervisors on the matter.  The Chronicle has so far failed to find anything newsworthy about a rouge neighbor getting a club's liquor license suspended.  The Guardian, which has largely staked their modern reputation on being the crusaders against the war on fun, hasn't made a peep about the situation (don't worry though, cats and dogs are the cover story).  And there hasn't been a single local politician willing to stick up for a local business.

Yet people wonder how Bay to Breakers could possibly be in danger...

Previously on Uptown Almanac

• CAN WE EVICT THIS LADY FROM SF??
• Is the Woman Allegedly Responsible for Slim's Liquor License Suspension Now Bullying Bloggers & Journalists?

Imagine my horror the other night as I spotted this hiptard out of the corner of my eye while drinking at Uptown.  As this crappy picture shows, this dudebro was hanging out at the bar and rocking a Hitler mustache with zero shame.  So many things rushed through my mind: do I talk to him to figure out what motivates someone to do this?  Is he Jewish and trying to take irony to a macabre next level?  Should I smash my bottle over the bar and stab him in the throat?

Ultimately murder seemed like a bad idea--plus I was too intoxicated to properly wield a broken bottle--and the idea of trying to talk to a person like this made me want to die.  Instead, I just was that creepy guy who sneaked a picture of Hipster Hitler IRL and bounced to a bar that wouldn't let someone like this in.  Even so, what the fuck?

I've developed an unhealthy obsession with reading NIMBY blogs lately.  Not that they are captivating read or anything, but I too will be 40 one day and I'm hoping to get some pointers for how to most effectively waste City Hall's time by having them deal with my petty troubles.

One such blog is Old Dirty Alley, a blog dedicated to a small stretch in SOMA's Minna Street, where every single day is full of shocking monstrosities such as having to call the police on people with their pants around their quads, a completely naked recycler laying in the street with a wine bottle shoved up his ass, pooping on Toyotas, and being forced to scold people for not peeing in a portapottie.  Just awful!

But the photo above shines the brightest.  What could possibly be going on here?  Hemming pants?  Fun with silly string?  ODA has the answer:

weird of the day: a woman getting the bandage on her buttock changed. pants ankle-high. on the street. in public. and not in the most sanitary place in town. said damage was probably caused in the first place by shooting up, or is something meth-related. i did have a moment of guilt where i wasn’t going to put up these photos. but that vanished as soon as i saw the lighter in her hand and realized she was high as hell. i know, i know, gross assumptions. but i’ll bet dollars to donuts …

420 graffiti, a sewing machine, a buttock wound and a poo stain running down the wall all conspired to create this weird of the day.

Weird indeed!  Almost as weird as posting a 23-picture deep slideshow of the occassion.  But I understand, outraged requires evidence.  A single picture can be misleading, but an entire photoset is damning.  If you're swirling that glass of merlot while scribbling an email to your supervisor, you better be sure to have an incriminating shot that will convince them to clean up the bandage-changing epidemic that is choking the life out of our city.