Mission Mission

(via chartno3)

So, the Cold War ended, the Berlin Wall crumbled, and all this nostalgia-inducing kipple found its way to the Mission.  But what is it?  I want to feel sentimental about Gothaplast Wundpflaster (a band-aid perhaps?) and Erich’s Luxus Duschbad (dandruff shampoo for commies?).  Do we have any Eastern European readers who can shed some light on this? 

This stuff probably means so much more to that table of 4 German tourists who keep asking me to take pictures of them and their schnitzel.  I suppose this is pretty much the equivalent to Dolores Burritos in Germany (with Franziskaner subbing for Negra Modelo), like some sort of exchange program but with restaurants instead of students.  German burrito consumers probably wonder why they have to stare at a wall-size map of the Mission while they eat.

But wait; what’s this?  Who else sees that?  East Germans like Boney M. too?!?  Now we can be brothers!  What’s this soup called?  Soljanka?  Sure, I’ll have some more!  And look, here’s Daniel Bruhl moonlighting as a waiter!  Guten tag indeed.

Remember when you were 13 and tried to make your own motorcycle out of duct tape, aluminum foil, and stuff laying around your backyard? I’d hate to spoil it for the strange bearded dude that works on this thing, but it usually ends in a broken collar bone and a pile of twisted metal.

(Fell and Van Ness)

On Christmas Eve, former Mission Mission editor Kevin slammed Guerrero Street Turkish restaurant Tuba, days before it even opened its doors. An excerpt: “[G]iven the plethora of delicious Valencia eateries, no one is going to stop off for food in the place tucked away to the west with a logo made by someone’s nephew who ‘has photoshop.’ ”

Well, Kev’s pal Queen Larbs attests that, in spite of its temporary signage back in December, the place is doing well, packed full of happy couples on Valentine’s Day, and churning out lamb chops so good you’ll go back for a second order before the night is done. (The famously Greek Larbs also says some stuff about Turks and rape and pillagery, but it’s probably all in fun.) Read on.

Your favorite dimly lit music venue Amnesia (Valencia b/t 19th and 20th)  is hosting a great Mardi Gras themed party tonight! They start at 9pm and the cover is $7-10 sliding scale.

Headlining are the California Honeydrops, a smokin’ rhythm and blues band out of Oakland and one of my favorites in the bay area. Opening is Damon and the Heathens, a kick-ass punky soul band. Go for the awesome party; stay for the cheap plastic jewelry.

Vids of these fine bands after the jump.

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So perhaps this is the only acceptable form of graffiti?  It’s hard  to categorize a mustachioed unicorn as legitimate, but if tagging up the Sketcher sign can incur such community vitriol, then I suppose this is what we end up with.

Stopping by to check out a punk rock party at someone’s house (nice work bands!  more DIY shows please!), I noticed that a whole apartment wall had been dedicated to just let taggers do whatever the hell they wanted.  Fantastic idea, but I could have done without the acrid aerosol odor permeating the whole place.  And all the Fubar.

Of course, Y2K Beavis made it all worthwhile.

Spotted on Valencia Street. Adding this to my collection.

UPDATE: Levi’s ad campaign. I am a tool.

Local artist Mike Giant has a solo show opening in Milan next week. This diagram just might be part of the fun. (Click to enlarge.)

Accurate? How many of you girls wear panties? Fuck on a first date? Hate television? (Even Glee?)

[via wombatbiker]

Previously:

Mission Hipster

Usually I read Herb Caen quotes and I’m like, “Whatever, old dude!!” And don’t get me wrong, I totally still had that reaction when I read the following, but it did give me pause:

Some people become San Franciscans almost immediately, feeling the poetry, sensing the specialness, seeing what makes the city great, boning up on the history and walking the streets with glamorous ghosts at their elbows. Others can live here all their lives and never get the message.

It’s cute I guess. But is it this black and white, or are there lots of in-betweens? What of the people that feel the poetry only after years and years? What of the people that think they get the message but really don’t? And those that see what makes the city great but are still compelled to leave? (Like our buddy Katherine who posted this quote earlier.)

And which are you?

Photo by Luc Kordas.

Hot on the killer heels of her last epic retail discovery, San Francisco’s own Penelope Popsicle has struck gold again, thrice!

Do click through and blow up her photo of this Dolly doll to its full resolution. It’s an exquisite shot of an exquisite product. Then there’s this novelty key chain of some kind of serpent-man fucking a human female midget doggystyle on the barrel of some kind of blunderbuss. What now? Also, a bucket of deer heads is always good.