Mission Mission

An allegedly hopped up woman late this afternoon allegedly drove her car right the fuck off the road, up onto the god damn sidewalk, and right the fuck into the Wells Fargo on the corner of 22nd and Mission. Miraculously, not one son of a bitch was hurt.

Good gravy! Look at the carnage from this angle:

Even hours after the alleged incident onlookers were transfixed:

And finally some dudes got to cleaning things up:

Update: Crowder says, “I walked by this when the car was still halfway through the building and the whole corner was jam packed with gawkers. Best part was a hipster walking by saying ‘ugh, bored people will just look at ANYTHING, won’t they?’. Um, dude, a fucking car drove through a bank.” Link.

Meet the newest addition to the La Lengua business community: Caffeinated Comics. From their homepage:

Caffeinated Comics is a cosmically cool café where coffee connoisseurs can consort and connect with comic book collectors in a cozy internet café with free WI-FI.

I’m a sucker for alliteration, so I’ll be there. Ever since Al’s moved over to Market, the comics scene in the Mission has been hurting, so hopefully this place will give it a kick in the pants.

Looks like there’s some kind of discount available tomorrow. (Thanks to Matthew T. Davis for the tip.)

But then Mission Street Food set me straight. I love brown rice.

I had this revelation a few weeks ago, when their sesame avocado brown rice was topped with eel-banana tempura. And that was great. Successful experiment.

But tonight the sesame avocado brown rice was topped with your choice of pork belly or broccoli rabe — two of the most tried-and-true things in the world. I had both. Both bowled me over, and then some.

The other items were great too. (From now on, no more hot sauce on my chicken wings — Tabasco granita is the way to go.)

Also, a shout out to how small a world it is here in San Francisco. By chance I was seated at a table with Devin from West Gate of Babylon and Heidi from Engineer’s Daughter. We talked reggae and Aliens.

Says Carlos Reyes, “[L]ook at the ripper at [P]opeye’s right now….killin.” Link.

Looks like we all enjoyed this scene last night. Stay tuned for pics of the scene at 22nd and Mission tonight (even better).

Maybe because you write uninspired shit on fire hydrants on Valencia Street?

The bottle contains an inch of clear liquid. The thing is out of reach of the average pedestrian. At the end of the string is a keyring, with a full complement of keys on it. What the fuck?

Previously:

WTF of the Century

Spotted in an alley off Valencia just north of 16th. Click to enlarge. Thanks, mcas!

Attention whoever is in charge of things at Target: If you want to use this for the cover of your next exclusive Christina Aguilera album, be in touch.

Click pic to view it in its big square entirety.

Hau_Ab says, “My favorite picture of a girl on a bike EVER.” Link.

Previously:

Girl on a Bike in Copenhagen

Amid the American Apparel drama earlier this month, the demise of a true Valencia Street institution went somewhat unnoticed (by me anyway). Reader foon this week alerted us to the now old news that El Santo de Israel is no more.

It was a Spanish-language, pro-Jewish Pentecostal church in a little storefront on Valencia near 21st. On Friday nights the congregation gathered and worshiped by way of a gospel jam session courtesy of one downright badass church band.

Oftentimes the jangly tunes issuing from this place sounded a notch more soulful than the boring old indie rock on offer down the block. On my way to or from some show at Amnesia or the Make-Out Room, I’d pass by while this crew were in full swing and wish for a moment somebody’d be out front inviting me in.

El Santo de Israel, we hardly knew ye.

For more, Mission Loc@l runs us through the history of the place and its founders here.

P.S. Really the only problem — aside from the whole organized religion thing if that doesn’t really float your boat — was the harsh overhead lighting. Church people, take a cue from Mission Street Food and Lung Shan, dim those fluorescents, string up some mood lighting, strike up the band, and you could build yourself a young, hip congregation lickety split. The blogs’ll eat it up, people will be lined up around the block to come in and praise holy things!

Photo by judgmentalist.