San Francisco

$.99 and the 99%: Occupy SF

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So you’re a broke-ass. So am I. So are millions of other people in the U.S.

But most of us aren’t cheap-asses. If my bank account were to ever swell beyond my miniscule barista’s paycheck, I’d be dropping dollars left and right.

Damn. I could pay my parking tickets. I could eat something other than filched tomatoes and parmesan-raw onion quesadillas. I could (gasp!) withdraw 20 bucks, buy myself a gourmet cookie, and use the change for laundry. I might even get myself new pants, the kind without holes where the bike seat chafes.

If you’re paying any sort of attention to the United States that exists beyond your closet bedroom in that Outer Sunset inlaw apartment, you probably have heard of the Occupy Wall Street movement and its nationwide counterparts. OccupySF has been making a ruckus for weeks now on Market Street and all around the Financial District, protesting economic inequality.

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Some of the occupiers camp out at Justin Herman Plaza all the time. Thousands of others come for the daily marches. Saturday’s march, at 3 pm, centers around police brutality, which the occupiers have felt firsthand.

Whatever your background or reasoning, and even if you’re one of those folks under the impression that the occupiers are a rag-tag group of young people all fighting for different things, check it out. The Occupy movement is fighting for, as they say, the 99%. When was the last time you saw that number? Oh right. When you snagged a dollar-deal half-dozen glazed doughnuts to last the week.

OccupySF March
Saturday, October 22nd
3 PM
101 Market

Photo Credit: Occupy SF

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Lucy Schiller - Destitute Dispatcher

Lucy Schiller - Destitute Dispatcher

Lucy's been able to live lots of places but holds her cornfed/pie-fueled Midwestern roots most dear, maintaining too loudly and too often that the Outer Richmond is the Midwest of SF: driven through to get elsewhere and knocked around for no reason (but what other neighborhood has bison?!). You can find Lucy letting things languish in her fridge, purposefully (limoncello!) or not (yogurt...), mouthbreathing, scouring Golden Gate Park for apartment-worthy items, sleepily serving up double nonfat half-caf-half-non-caf lattes at a certain cafe, skulking in various other ones, and yelling under cover of night and costume at SF Bike Party.