Mission Mission

Remember way back in November when this place’s imminent opening was announced? Well, hella months later Eye on Blogs delivers the good news that they’re open and partnered with the 500 Club and TCB Courier. So you can pick up any one of those sandwiches listed above and wash it down with a pint of lager a couple doors down, OR get it delivered right to your door. Welcome to the neighborhood, Clare’s!

You see, this tag is creative in that in completely subverts the nature of creativity! Hella creative!

Penelope Popsicle took the picture, as usual.

Maybe it’s one of those things when you want to know more about the person who’s behind something that you really like and then once you learn a little bit you realize that you didn’t really need to know. Or maybe not.

Mission artist Victor Reyes seems like a cool enough guy. He and the Chronicle writer, Justin Berton, talk to a random “hipster”, then Berton calls Reyes out for how much he sold a piece and Reyes explains graffiti.

I guess it’s a better piece than that. It’s always going to be a little embarrassing, I assume, when you read your profile in The Chronicle. Anyway, I still think Reyes is the best working street artist around these parts.

Victor Reyes a man of letters on a Mission

Broke-Ass Stuart says:

Just saw this on Folsom btw 22nd and 23rd. Looks like someone pinched all four tires and the car looks brand new. I thought this only happened in shit like Police Academy and comedies that take place in New York in the ’80s.

You thought wrong, Stu! Thanks for the pic!

This is the best Tom Selleck-related work of art since SWS, am I right?

Photo by nuzz.

Before:

After:

Photos by Chris Brennan.

Previously:

Kevin Montgomery’s Epicly Controversial Review of the Knockout’s Monthly “Debaser” Party

In the comments section of an earlier post, we’ve been having a serious talk about Critical Mass. On Monday, reader William wrote:

When I first rode in Critical Mass, it was great to have that feeling of safety, that thrill of being in control of the road. And riding with so many happy people? Awesome!

But in watching what it does to drivers, I’ve come to think that Critical Mass is a giant dick move. I’m sure it was useful once, but that time is long past. And I say that as a guy who hasn’t owned a car in more than a decade, somebody who commutes by bike every day. I’m tired of apologizing to non-bikers for a giant monthly inconvenience, and I wish everybody would give it up.

Yesterday, reader Hugh rebutted:

When I first drove a car in San Francisco, it was great to have that feeling of safety, that thrill of being in control of the road. And driving alone in my car? Awesome!

But in watching what it does to bicyclists, I’ve come to think that owning a car is a giant dick move. I’m sure it was useful once, but that time is long past. And I say that as a guy who likes to drive, somebody who uses a City Car Share pretty regularly. I’m tired of apologizing to bicyclists for a giant daily inconvenience, and I wish everybody would give it up.

Point Hugh!

Read the whole dialogue here.

Photo by davekeane.

My favorites are The Winter of Our Discontent and The Moon Is Down. How ’bout you?

Photo by Steve Rhodes.

Here’s the thing about this atomic six-armed Poppin’ Fresh: If you try to poke his belly, he will tear off your finger in a fiery rage, eat it, and then go hee-hee!

This looks to be the latest by d-know, whose work we’ve looked at before.

Photo by Carlos Hoyos.

It took long enough, but Landon Donovan finally punched through and scored the winning goal of the Battle of Algiers, setting the Phoenix into a frenzy and (of course) leading its patrons into the obligatory USA USA chants.

Although we couldn’t get close enough to the bar to attempt to order the scrumptious famous Irish Breakfast (how can you go wrong with blood sausage?), their spicy bloody marys more than sufficed and sustained us through this tense match.

Check the video below to see the place going OFF as the final whistle blows:

Previously:

Homemade McMuffin World Cup at the Phonebooth