Mission Mission

One last detour to the Midwest to close out a week of many detours to the Midwest, this one courtesy of Chicago photographer Nick Gerber. This sport looks fully badass — and I’m sure nobody’s face ever gets burned clean off.

But seriously, the MLB could take a lesson from this crew — less doping and more FLAMING PROJECTILES.

[The pitcher is here; the batter is here.]

I’ve embedded “Ride of the Valkyries” below. You’re welcome.

Photo by SF Citizen, via Carlos Reyes. Do view it larger if you’re inclined.

Jason Rosete captured some sweet pics of other Jasons jumping around in Dolores Park.

Jason Maggied cruising for a(nother) bruising.

Jason Clary getting air(y).

Check out this amazing shot from good ol’ Bob/bats… in Dolores Heights.

Click for big.

We’re going to end this week’s examination of dating and friendship and flakiness in San Francisco and California with this sober rap by reader Al:

Here’s my theory, (note: huge generalizations will be made): Our grandparents grew up during the Great Depression thus rearing their children (our parents) to value hard work, decorum, conservatism. As a result we have the buttoned up, squeaky clean 50′s and then the revolt of the free lovin 60′s. Unsure of how to raise us, our parents padded our cribs, fed us on formula of “you can be whatever you want to be” “everyone should go to college” “be an astronaut, honey” “be a ballerina” and it’s left us, as a generation, completely floundering. We can’t make decisions period. About career paths. “Let’s all be designers!” or what the fuck to eat. We’re all looking for the bigger, better, EASIER, next thing. This includes again jobs, lovers, friends, weekend plans. We like to keep all options open, hoping that someday our shot at “space” or “prima ballerina” will fall effortlessly in our lap.

Totally. If only I could be a ballerina without having to practice my pirouettes all that much.

But I have to say, there are advantages to this trip: Last weekend at Handlebar in Chicago, right after LCD Soundsystem’s epic set, my cousin Jono, a designer (he came up with that great Verizon “Rule the Air” logo), couldn’t decide whether to get nachos or fries. So he got nachos and fries and had no complaints. (See the fun after the jump.)

[Above photo by Elisa Hough.]

(more…)

Or at least it should be.  Then we could all take photos that look as cool as those of Walter Dukes.

Do yourself a favor and click through to the large version for a psychedelic view from Dolores Park without the truffles.

UPDATE!!! Just noticed this crazy version too of the same scene!

Previously:

It Burns: Mission HDR Photography

Snapped in Pi Bar by Broke Ass Stuart.

Whether the π/beers thing is related or not, I have no idea what is going on in this image. I’ve zoomed way in and can’t seem to figure what that appendage growing out of that guy’s upper torso is. Looks like an illustration in a “Say No to Spraying Kerosene in Your Own Face” pamphlet from the doctor’s office — but that’s not a real thing. Halp!

Photo by westbymidwest.

This is on Dolores Street somewheres. Just let me put on my purple American Apparel shirt and my purple fake Ray-Bans and then somebody take my picture under it okay?

Photo by jessohackberry.

Some mystery bombadier seems to be  pelting random passerby with barrages of eggs as they make their way down Valencia approaching Pica Pica, that newish Venezuelen place across the street from Little Star.  My buddy Eric described his first encounter:

Heading home from practice, I started to notice this peculiar smell, like it was breakfast or something.  Then I saw that it was emanating from this huuuuuge pile of broken eggs on the sidewalk.  At that moment, I felt something whoosh past my face . . . sure enough, an egg.  I looked across the street to see who was throwing them, but didn’t catch anyone, so I just got out of there as fast as I could.

Then, a few days later, I’m walking down the same street and this girl about 10 paces ahead of me gets nailed out of nowhere.  I hurry up to get out of range before the ambusher can reload, but I still can’t tell where they’re coming from.  Be careful when you’re getting arepas!

Does anyone have any idea would could possibly be motivating this dairy-hurling poultry-slinging villain?  Any word on if they’re organic or cage free?

[Photo by Craig Hunter]