Mission Mission

I saw a Bender’s sticker on the back of a stop sign in New Orleans this morning and I was like, “Hmm, yeah, I’m getting pretty tired of fried okra and Abita Amber; maybe it really is time to go back to San Francisco.” See you next week!

P.S. Bender’s is still cool, right?

Photo: Joshua Bright for The New York Times

I’m sure everyone’s seen a BNE sticker slapped on a parking meter at one point or another.  Gav even offered a $2,500 reward on the stickerer’s scalp back in 2k6.

Today, the Chronicle pointed us to a New York Times interview with the unidentified artist who tags and stickers the letters “BNE” all over the world, from San Francisco and New York to Prague and Kuala Lumpur.  BNE takes his art very seriously, comparing his brand to that of Tommy Hilfiger, Starbucks, and Pepsi.

My favorite part of the article:

“You kind of isolate yourself, living this life,” he said. “You meet a girl and she asks, ‘What do you do?’ and right way, you have to lie.”

Zomg, BNE has a soft side!  Sucks he has to hide his true self behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.  The words “I slap stickers on shit, babe,” would be devastating for any girl to hear.

I kid, I kid!  BNE may sound sort of like a post-modern hippie, but he’s alright.  Not as cool as Dick Chicken, though.

I always hit up Taqueria Vallarta after a show at Blue Six. The $1.50 taco bar is second to none. They fry up all the meats simultaneously in a loosely-partitioned circular grill that I affectionately call “Noah’s Ark”.

It’s a beautiful thing: you order with the man behind the grill, he loads up some tacos, you pay some tired guy wearing a change apron, and you pile on as much cilantro as you can handle. Hey La Taqueria: take note. $3.50 for a taco is ROBBERY.

Anyway, last time somebody told me to check out the mural while I was there. Ok, I thought, probably just another busty Aztec babe fetching a vase of water while a menacing conquistador stares on. Nope, try ill-proportioned 49ers playing football under the Golden Gate Bridge with the dolphins.

Then there’s more: the artist took it upon himself to write a rambling narrative about the parallel-universe origins of San Francisco and how bitchin’ the 49ers are. Did you know that they have the “excitement of the bear”?

Anyone know the story behind this masterpiece? Some borracho repaying his debt to the owner? Another coded message to members of the New World Order? Best explanation gets a taco on me. These are high stakes, folks.

Okay, no pressure or anything, but the New York Times says there’s a Chihuahua surplus in the Bay Area, so we should probably all go out and get one, because we all live in a traditionally MEXICAN neighborhood and these dogs are from MEXICO.

So anyway, my theory is that everyone in the Bay Area saw the trailer for Beverly Hills Chihuahua and was like AW FUCK NO re: these little shits and returned their pups to the pup store.  Another classic Norcal vs. Socal debate.

Go ahead and share this one in your Google Reader with the note “Bitch is crazy. I miss Allan.”

The Lab, that place you never think about (oh yeah, that place!) on 16th and Capp, is hosting two awesome events this weekend:

First, Friday night!  Mi Ami party!  Dudes are putting out a new 12″.  The evening will also feature bearded boy wonder Tristes Tropiques.  Flyer below, but don’t stare too long; Magic Eye don’t work if you’re not relaxed.

Second, Saturday night!  A live Tetris Tournament!  They’re gonna project that shit on a wall and name a winner by the end of the night.  Music by Microfiche, White Cloud, and Middle D.

Below, a classic Tetris conundrum.  I leave it to you, reader, to solve.  See if you can figure out what to do with that next piece (hint: Zepler doubling isn’t the answer).

Okay, talk to you guys later!

Bombshell Betty and Fromagique are hosting a holiday themed stripping burlesque show at the Elbo Room tonight. With names like “Rosy Areola” and “Vadge O’Fonner” how can you go wrong? Fans of boobs artistic expression shouldn’t miss this one.

If that’s not your bag, Evan Francis’ Spaceheater is performing at Coda Lounge as part of Jazz Mafia Tuesdays. Never been to Coda? No biggie, but I guess Stevie Wonder hangs there sometimes. If you like jazz flute over break beats then Evan’s your guy. BTW he’s not the flautist in Anchorman, but apparently they know each other real well. Jazz flautists probably have each other on speed dial to sub out gigs.

I was totally digging the winter air this morning riding my bike around town.  Dancing exhaust and cold ears; I even saw snow falling off the mud flaps of a semi.  Then I saw new construction at La Rondalla.  Snow then this?

So, is this place seriously about to reopen?  Anyone have the inside scoop?  I hope they don’t loose that hella cool padded door.

My favorite MM comment section hater sends us a tip about a merchant’s holiday party happening this Friday, featuring slashed prices and drink specials.  No word if there will be free refreshments or bands/DJs this year (they had ‘em last year), so you better brown bag it and pack your ipod with a smooth combination of Ratatat, The Knocks and Da Brat just in case.

I couldn’t find any official information about this year’s party, and the organizers have not updated their website since February, but here is last year’s invite.

He adds:

“Make sure the naive hipster fucks stay home for this, none of the merchants would want to offend them in the case that the stores are too refined for their palates.”

Zing!

Got word that Vegan Virgin is finally opening next week.  Cool, I guess.  I mean, normally I’d be pretty pumped (burritos + vegan food) but I’m generally down on giving my money to crazy people. But maybe you are crazy, vegan, or apathetic–maybe a healthy combination of all traits–and generally don’t care about forcing ‘the help’ to join cults.  Sin carne, sin jamón, sin pollo, sin pescado, sin leche, sin queso, sin crema, por favor.

Alexander sent us this image of a newly-buffed Clarion Alley a few days ago.  Reminds me of sunnier times, before the great blizzard hit San Francisco.  I miss my fingertips.