Kickstart the vinyl pressing of B. Hamilton’s first record

For a $15 donation, you’re guaranteed a copy of the final product. Plus, according to the Kickstarter page:

—>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<——>EVERYBODY WHO DONATES ANY AMOUNT OF MONEY WILL GET THERE NAME PRESSED ON THE RECORD<—

I love this band. Don’t forget, you can still download a digital copy of the record for free.

Urban farming: Rosemary pesto

Reasons to love rosemary:

  1. It smells amazing
  2. It tastes great
  3. It grows all over the Mission so you never have to buy it
  4. Picking it makes you feel like you are getting back to the land in a pioneery sort of way/ winning at Oregon Trail. Pick rosemary when your oxen are drying off after fording the river!

Personally I prefer to borrow rosemary from the Friends School on Valencia between 14th and Duboce, but if you go for a short walk, you should be able to find tons of ample-sized bushes at a theater near you.

Blend some culled rosemary with a few other ingredients and you have a gorgeous pesto that would give Bi-Rite a run for their money.

Ingredients:

  • ½ cup firmly packed rosemary (1 handful 4-6” sprigs)
  • ½ cup walnuts (traditional pesto uses pine nuts but those are expensive!)
  • 1 cup firmly packed basil
  • Juice of 1 lemon (about ¼ cup)
  • ¼ cup olive oil
  • ¼ cup water
  • Salt to taste

Blend ingredients in your blender! Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy, as my friend Liz from New Zealand says. It will only take a second, and then you’ll have a sauce that will fancify anything from pizza to salad to burritos, and is equally good on vegan and omnivorous dishes.

Okay, now let’s all promise that our future-tense selves will plant rosemary bushes in front of our houses to karmically absolve our present-tense selves. Pinky-swear?

Sexy pigeon

[via Penelope Popsicle]

Fire clown

Last Renaissance explains:

16th street is the new haight street [link]

Introducing the Oakland Iced Tea

It’s like a Long Island Iced Tea but also contains Hennessy and Sprite. Tastes like Oakland!

Its origins date back to last night at Dear Mom, inspired by guest bartender Devon’s custom Mad Libs (as filled out by our pal Lindsey), and ultimately created by non-guest bartender Oliver. We also consulted noted Oakland celebrity Ryan Christopher Parks, but he wasn’t much help:

(Special thanks to Stu and Jess too.)

Haters in the comments

The Believer takes a look at the phenomenon in a piece titled “Haterade“:

[M]any readers seem to be approaching their commenting privileges like teenagers with newly minted driver’s licenses. Belted in by anonymity and often distracted by the equally reckless ravings of their peers, they take potshots, spread untruths, and, at their worst, spew racism and bigotry that would put a professional writer out of business in a nanosecond. In so doing, they spread a rancor that can eclipse not only the original article but also the comments of readers who take a more constructive, civil approach. They take the very privilege the internet has afforded all of us—the privilege of equal opportunity, instant expression—and spit on it, making the very notion of “speaking your mind” seem almost like a dirty practice, the national pastime of the lowest common denominator.

SOUNDS FAMILIAR.

Indian

Indian