Mission Mission

Been wondering about a few things, like that poster on Guerrero Street for the past few months, featuring a cow and advertising a free soapbox race in Dolores Park. The Red Bull Soapbox Race, specifically, which answers the next question: What was up with that fleet of can-shaped Red Bull cars I passed on the way home from work yesterday?

Now I’m pretty excited to see what these soap boxers will do, besides make my weekly date with Dolores (Saturday) a little claustro. Good news: it’ll be completely free, unless you decide to make a purchase from the food stands, bev stands, craft stands, nearby shops, or strolling vendors.

clever

Person A: You going the wrong way.

Person B: No I’m not.  I’m going to buy liquor and that aint never the wrong way! Ahahahahahahaaa!

Person A: Ahahahahahaaaa!

Fall is in the air, and Tree over at Free Farm Stand has proof, one of the largest banana squashes this side of Thanksgiving!  No mere knife could tame this unruly beast, it requires a “sawzall.” Sounds like Tree is going to have a lot of squash in the coming weeks.

Just like Tom said (the guy who brought the tomatoes and squash to me from the country), I cut the squash easily with a “sawzall”, and I wrapped 1 lb. pieces in cling plastic wrap. I still have more to cut up and he wants to bring me more.

Link.

Recipes: Honey Glazed Banana Squash, Roasted Banana Squash Soup, Raw Banana Squash Donuts

In an attempt to find out if there was a reason why the sidewalks of Mission Street are tiled, I ran across an article published by The New York Times in October of 1989. Finding it rather poetic, and also an interesting read, I stopped wondering about the tiles, and started reading this rather lengthy article.

EACH TIME AMERICA SEALS ME IN A laminate of deadlines and Dow Jones averages, bills due and bills payable, I journey to a place where urgencies fade, colors brighten and all claims on reality begin to look relative. Just a stroll down the hill – though, like a good Californian, I usually drive – leads me out of my silent, wind-scoured, chillingly pretty neighborhood into a raucous, mouldering, charmingly unscrubbed caldron. Suddenly, the sidewalks are bordered with azure tiles and doused with the perfume of rotting mangoes; the streets are serenaded by thumping basso laments broadcast from souped-up Chevys; the advertisements appeal to a dozen loyalties and languages. Black-shawled Guatemalan women ply the restaurants, peddling red carnations, followed by packs of Vietnamese urchins toting bags of fresh-picked garlics; each available clapboard wall bursts with murals of naked Aztec deities and painted jungles; every sight conspires to defeat grayness and to sabotage the straight-and-narrow. Where thousands have sought asylum before me, I am a refugee in reverse – fleeing the benefits of the Promised Land for the immigrant hothouse and global miscellany that is San Francisco’s Mission District.

Full article here.

I experienced it all at Litquake:

The Good: hearing the phrase “earnestly pimpled.”

The Bad: heat so intense upstairs at the Elbo Room I had to leave, thus allowing me to hear the phrase “earnestly pimpled” downstairs.

The Ugly: I like cats but damn cat (Yelp informs me his her name may be Ripley), you need some hair!

Any writers that blew your socks off? Strange characters? Anyone else notice and/or find refreshing that the average age on Valencia rose about 20 years last night?

Reader Cyn has a question for us:

I have a deck that overlooks Clarion Alley. This morning, at 4:40 a.m., we were woken up by 21 gunshots. Does anyone know what happened??

Can anyone enlighten us on what went down in one of our favorite muraled alleys?

Although I see washing machines and laundry carts on the inside, I’m still hoping it is a publishing house for all things tissue and handkerchief related.

Sitting on the good old bus 49 over the weekend, I came across something that is rarely seen in San Francisco – a bus driver who fought for his fare. All too often the driver doesn’t even glance at my MUNI pass and I go for days without actually needing it, wondering why I even waste the $45 dollars each month. That is a lot of ice cream at Bi-rite, well, not really all that much.

But this driver was tenacious. He kicked a middle aged man off the bus for using a senior pass. When someone got in through the back door, the driver refused to budge the bus until this man showed him his transfer. Because this man pretended he didn’t know the bus driver was talking to him for a full minute (sitting down), flashed his transfer (and sat back down), went to the front of the bus to show his expired transfer (and sat back down), and then finally came up with the necessary $1.50 (and sat back down!), we sat on the street for a good 3 minutes not moving. My ride from 26th street to 16th street took 15 minutes.

On one hand, I had places to go and things to see.

On the other hand, I was secretly happy.

But then I think about how incredibly long it would take to get the bus moving if everyone went in through the front door: stops at 24^th and 16^th street would probably take at least an extra minute or two. And then I get angry at the people who go out the front door who have clear access to the back doors and who are in no way physically challenged. I am even occasionally upset with the old people who insist on pulling carts everywhere – if you have enough gumption to pull a wheeled basket up onto the bus, you are strong enough to exit through the back door.

Bus rides are often long and angry for me.

And then I read how poor MUNI is, and how they are thinking of raising the monthly fare. Couldn’t I just send 10 people to the front of the bus to pay their fare and add my extra $15 dollars that way? Maybe by making people follow the few simple rules about entering, exiting, and paying fares, not only would we have a better funded system, but is possible it would no longer be one of the slowest public transport systems in the nation.

I need a bike.

Reader Cleezy Clapback needs some advice:

We moved into a duplex on 20th and Treat (yikes!) in June, and the occupants upstairs are all close friends of mine. The landlord agreed to repair some presumably negligible problems with the house, and we were fine with the verbal agreement. 3 months later nothing had happened, and things started to fall apart. After contacting the Rent Board, our landlord was notified and, shortly after, contacted someone to fix the house. One thing led to the other, yada yada yada, they ripped up the entire floor of the living room and kitchen, replaced the shower, and knocked out an entire living room wall.

After living without a wall for a week, the Building Inspector visited me, stating that their has been NO permits filed with the City for the construction. The construction workers left. Now their is a gaping hole in our wall, no floor, and no electricity in the living room. What’s next? Are we going to be evicted? Relocated? Am I responsible for the cost of relocation? Dear God, help us.

God, readers, what’s the deal?

Reader Bryan Haggerty says, “Thought you guys might appreciate this apartment listing on craigslist.” We’re printing the full text in case it gets flagged, despite its being REAL:

$1000 Room 4 Rent in San Francisco’s Mission District (mission district)

Hellooooo there! We are three of the most super duper coolest people in the world looking for a reallllyyy cool roomate to stay at our house on 17th and Valencia St. in San Francisco.

The room is approximately 10 x 10 feet. Hardwood floors throughout the home with an incredible view of the street action on 16th and Mission BART.

A little about us…

Dexter is a super cool 28 year old dude. He wears black square framed glasses. A bike messenger, he is utterly sure of himself that the right thing to do in a city like San Francisco where the citizens and workers are overwhelmingly for more biker paths and public transportation is to protest in the streets against them. He works 24 hours a week and then hangs out at Zeitgeist because it’s a “Biker Bar,” and spends the rest of his time updating his myspace page and posting threads about “Loose Change” on message boards. The son of two lawyers, he has a fierce commitment to social justice. He believes it is the governments job to send every African American and Latino Child to school although he chooses not to go himself. He knows the plight of black people because at 8 years old, he went to school with a black kid named Trevor in Marin.

Janis is a 32 year old ballet teacher. She wears black framed glasses. A ballet teacher, she was always warned by her parents that teaching ballet would be a great part time job and hobby as opposed to one of those jobs you can do from home but chose the independent road and did so anyways. Her friends told her it was admirable but she needed real income to stick with it in a city like San Francisco. Luckily, she only needs to teach ballet for 12 hours a week because she moved into our apartment 14 years ago and is covered by rent control. What she is not able to cover, her architect father pays for. Her mother dissapeared several years ago but occasionally paints pictures by covering her body with paint and flying across a zipline like that chick in The Big Lebowski.

I, Ronald, am a 29 year old caucasian member of MECHA. I volunteer with the organizaion to give a one sided, completely biased story about why California should be a part of Mexico. When I ask Mexican immigrants wheter California should be part of the US or Mexico they overwhelmingly say the US. This is my inspiration to teach them differently. I wear black framed glasses. I have two tattoos on my back with Chinese characters. I recently learned one artist changed the Chinese character “Strength” to “Fuck You Stupid Whiteboy” when he tattoed me but I suppose it was a learning experience. My dad is a police officer. He arrests people who kill people and sell drugs to kids. While this may sound good, they are overwhelmingly minority, and therefore he is just a racist pig who is part of the system. My mother makes six figures as a hairstylist but I’m upset she’s so stupid she would cramp her mind to that.On my spare time I enjoy listening to Cold Play because it makes me think about killing myself and drawing flowers with sidewalk chalk to remind my neighbors what a beautiful life it is in a neighborhood where people are killed on a weekly basis and transients like myself stay inside my home and dont help any of the young kids who need it.

Collectively, you must know: we are vegetarian. Eating meat is completely immoral, no matter how delicious. Except fish. And eggs. And carne asada burritos. We enjoy sports, but not baseball, football, or basketball. Soccer is okay. Or something more European. You must be liberal to live here. You must be completely open and in agreement to our point of view. If you drive a car forget it. Cars are evil. It doesnt matter if you have family in the East Bay and work in San Jose, its completely unacceptable if you think you actually have to commute to work. You should listen to Jack Johnson too.

Rent is $1,000 dollars cause we are super cool.Forward us your myspace so we can judge you. As you can see we are pretty normal, excepting,down to Earth people, and if you arent the same you should move somewhere else.

Thanks.

Oh yea dont flag THIS IS REAL.

Is it? Link, or click thumbnail above for screenshot. Thanks, Bryan!