Mission Mission

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.

“Hold konb down,” says this helpful note in the west bathroom at the Latin American Club. Don’t worry, that shadow is just my phone.

Gurnek S. laments:

This past Saturday my roommates and I threw a party in honor of our beloved Emily’s birthday (sweetheart roommie).  The party was great, everyone was having an awesome time, but some schlub decided to tag our bathroom door.  Completely uncool.  I’ve never been vandalized by a guest before, so I’m really disappointed.  We maybe had as many as 50 people at one point, but they were all pretty much good friends with a few exceptions.  I’ve attached a pic of the pathetic tag and I’m hoping you might post it.  I have no delusions about finding this schmuck, but maybe if you put his tag out there someone will recognize it and tell this guy he’s a total douche.

Hear that, tagger guy? You made somebody sad. Maybe now you’ll rethink your life and go back to art school. Or just hold out until you get a paid gig painting a sign for a local business.

I just hope this is able to reach you in time.

Last night I ran into a hot tip that originated at Sean from ARAWA, and I decided to follow up. The lead was good: The Mission Police Station has a public restroom that is available 24 hours a day.

That’s right. Now you don’t have to stand up against the side of a building and pretend you’re just a low-texter while trying not to splash on your shoes. At least not in the area around 17th and Valencia. You basically just straighten yourself up, waltz into the lobby, motion to one of the two bathrooms with a smile and a raise of the eyebrows and the cops behind the glass will buzz you right in. It’s as simple as that.

Spotted at the Rite Spot Cafe on 17th and Folsom.

Two theories:

1. This tagger has no imagination and/or some serious guts. “Yeah that’s right, I’m Peter Crawford! Come get me you pigs!!”
2. Someone is trying to frame this guy. Or maybe this guy: British award-winning, freelance film-maker, author, photographer and lecturer Peter Crawford. Moral: Don’t mess with taggers! Just because they are mostly pasty self-righteous wimps doesn’t mean they can’t fight back!

I googled this line from the bathroom wall at Cafe Petra (17th & Guerrero) to see if any lyrics came up.

They didn’t.  But this Quail Diary did.

Is someone in the Mission promoting this bird blog with a bathroom scrawl?  Probably not. But it’s nice to think about.

-Jen Gann

I’ve been digging Dirty Thieves lately.  First off, it is the only place I know of in the Mission that has Stranahan’s Whiskey, which is some of the best goddamn whiskey that I’ve ever had.  Then there is the subject of their death trap of a men’s bathroom.  Not only will you do a face plant walking in there if you are rolling a few PBRs deep, but someone drew a giant vagina on the trash bag covering the urinal.  Even more troubling than the fact someone put their hands near that piss bucket?  There’s actually a glory hole in the middle of that vagina.

Mission Mission advisory to women: you probably don’t want to sleep with any guys that spend more than 60 seconds in that bathroom and look particularly elated leaving it.

Zing!

This is just kinda sad: In a major act of retroactive cover-your-ass, Kevin Montgomery — aftergoing all bro-douchey on local coverage of the detention of Amuse Bouche vendor Murat Celebi-Ariner last week (an important story in the, uh, Mission) — of Mission Mission shows new concern for the plight of the immigrant.

…

Follows a long story from a reader, presumably, about a kid scooped up and thrown into ICE detention. And you wanted us to know this because?

Let me get this straight, SF Weekly: some guy on the internet said something you don’t like so, in response, you launch a personal attack and lambast the general importance of Latino immigrants’ struggles, presumably, because they didn’t jump on some tired “street food” bandwagon?  Really?  Aren’t you supposed to be above that?  You are print journalists.  Homeless people use you for warmth.  I’m some guy behind a monitor who spends too much time at Bender’s.  I’m only used for warmth once every three years, average.

I know Mission Mission does not always tout the Weekly’s party-line and, yeah, we had a different take on this one, but we don’t get why that provoked two posts worth of vitriol from one of the Weekly’s editors.  I don’t think using the situation to promote a general discussion around the Missions’ immigration problems is so absurd.

(Post 1 | Post 2)

SF is fag friendly.  If you’re into retards, go to Portland or some shit.

Restroom door at El Zocalo.   Taken from The Tens.

Crackheads, peep this free-shit bonanza:

I love it when our oppressors try to relate and bro-down with us via hip spellings like “thanx.”  That shows they “get it.”

Found at 17th and Hoff by Cranky Old Mission Guy.