Mission Mission

While crossing that neat (but sometimes frightening) pedestrian overpass connecting Vermont and Kansas over the James Lick Freeway near 22nd Street, this intrepid photographer experienced an epic confrontation with a wild animal in its natural habitat.  Luckily, he wasn’t mauled during the encounter and can continue to provide the public with fantastic shots of San Francisco, like this one!

Check out the largest size to witness the beast at bay as it stares deeply into your soul.

[Photo and Title by bats...]

And just simply file this one under DON’T.

Today feels like a good coconut day.  Has anyone gotten a coconut from this place yet?  They’re only $2.50 each, and the place is run by a local immigrant whose dream is to sell coconuts.  A friendly gentleman even stands in front with a machete ready to help you liberate the sweet coconut water, which also happens to be the best hangover cure in the world, battle-tested by professional Guyanese lay-abouts (you can keep your kombucha, thank you very much).

It’s one of those places that looks like a front for something unsavory, but only because they are still working on getting all their permits.  And just ask Mission Minis and Anthony’s Cookies about what happens when you don’t get your permits.  Nope, nothing here except good, wholesome young coconuts.  Even Madonna is cuckoo for coconuts.

Previously:

Coconuts on Mission Street

New Beverage Set to Take Mission by Storm

Cutting Kombucha Costs

I completely agree with reader Fred regarding the greatness of the bathroom ceilings at Doc’s Clock.  They also have one of the nicest Sunday brunches in the city in Three Papayas, a Thai/Vietnamese masterpiece by ”underground superstar chef” Tawei of Yamo fame.

But they don’t have NO JUKE.

And we’re talking about one of the greatest jukeboxes in the city according to SF Appeal.  What happened?

Previously:

Doc’s Clock Really Does Have the Nicest Bathroom Ceilings

Pop-up Thai/Vietnamese Brunch at Doc’s Clock

Each patron refused to acknowledge the scene in the middle of the room, trying to forget it ever happened, trying to pretend everything would be okay as the piano player solemnly maintained his fugue.  What was going on here, Revolution Cafe?

My friends would seriously like to know.

They might be bringing water grenades!

Previously:

Abandoned Super Soaker

Everybody loves parades.  The Rose Parade, Dykes on Bikes; hell, Disneyland has a parade every single day.  And street festivals are all about revolution, taking back the pavement from automobiles and the insidious forces that promote their ubiquitous role in society.  Predictably then, the Cesar Chavez Parade and Festival was an obvious hit, marrying both concepts into a union that even the Mormons would have a difficult time de-legitimizing.

This fellow was particularly enthused to be part of the action.  Since they apparently wouldn’t let him be part of the lo rider escort team, rolling with the mobile mariachi unit was the next logical choice.  Oh, but you don’t have to litter, guys!

The unions also got to strut their stuff, which was probably the whole point when this celebration was initially conceived.  It was educational, too, since I previously had no idea that there was in fact a linoleum union.

As expected, the postal union continued their stagnant march ahead, blissfully unaware that the Post Office will probably be bankrupt in two years, having chosen to subsidize environment-wrecking mass catalog distribution and junk mail companies by resorting to steadily increasing the cost of postage for you and me to send simple letters, rather than attempting to creatively integrate the internet age into operations.

It’s unfortunate that it costs 44 cents for us to send a simple one-page letter in the mail, but Ikea (or pick whatever corporation you want) gets to clog your box with massive tomes that you will probably just forward directly to the recycling bin, and they only have to pay a mere penny or two to send each one.  Trees get chopped to supply all the paper, much of which often finds its final resting place in landfills.  All the while the USPS keeps hemorrhaging money without knowing why.  But arguing about snail mail on the internet is a tired affair, and I digress.  Plus, we’ve still got to get to the street festival!

(more…)

New-on-the-scene Guerrero Gallery will be hosting their second Group Opening this Saturday, which should make for a great place to check out a bunch of local artists (around 20 or so in fact).  Group openings are neat because they feature a ton of variety and you usually get a bunch of artistically-minded people all in the same place.  Throw in the fact that there will be free beer and a taco truck outside, and there’s a good chance that you’ll see me there zoning out in front of this piece by James Marshall waiting for the Magic-Eye sailboat to pop out.

The fun starts at around 7pm this Saturday at 2700 BRYANT Street.  Not on Guerrero!  That’s just the dude’s name!  Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

He must be mad about the impending BART service cuts.  Someone forgot to tell him about the extra $26 million of restored public transit funding for which the Governator (just keeping in theme) recently signed legislation.  That means no fare increases or service cuts . . . for now.

Anyone down to turn this into an arcade game?

UPDATE!!!  Or maybe he’s just pissed that Tony Pirrone is still walking free despite his alleged role in the Oscar Grant murder, and he’s going to shut down the Embarcadero BART station with a protest during rush hour today to demand justice.

[Illustration courtesy of Steve via Black Maps]

Could this be the same mystery golf cart that was spotted last month while the mysterious driver was epicly failing a DUI test?  While the speakers did not seem sufficient to blast Public Enemy for all to hear, at least this one comes with a Vespa sidecar.

Could Cushmans become the hipster version of Smart Cars?  They are super easy to park but can’t even go on a highway, just like enjoying the streamlined design of no brake or gear cables while being unable to effectively bomb Potrero Hill (minus the fish-tailing, of course).

Could a future question on the analogy section of the hipster GRE possibly be:

ROAD BIKE : FIXIE

• smart car : cushman

Ha, Hipster GRE!

Previously:

Mystery Drunken Golf Cart

Mission Mystery Machine Meter Maid

Inside Schlomo’s Cushman