For those of you who have the San Francisco book, you might remember a little passage that goes like this:   Morton’s Steakhouse:  400 Post St. @ Powell I am a golden god for giving this one to you!  Yes my friends this one here is fucking gorgeous!  Every Monday-Friday

Not long ago Monica the Intern and I were interviewed for a new part of The Onion’s website called Debaser.  The idea behind it is that they let you promote something of yours in exchange for telling an embarrassing story.  So I got to tell them all about the Fuck the Recession Party,

Sway feels cool because it hasn’t altered the outdated sign of its predecessor McGovern’s, has good music, and an attractive crowd (reminder: low light, dark backdrops and highballs make a lot of things attractive). Hell, attractive people can make anything look cool from old school American Gladiators to modern runway

  The black tarpaulin outside of the The Continental reads “5 Shots of Anything $10: All day/All night (yes, we’re serious)”.   And there really is no catch.  No limiting “happy hour”, no restricted access to only the worst gut rot brewed in an industrial bathtub, no cutting down a

The sun is out and the people are shining vibrant shades of pink.  Nice days in San Francisco mean mainly one thing for the denizens of the Mission, Noe Valley, and The Castro: fucking off all day in Dolores Park. I was walking through DP yesterday when I ran into

There a thousands of iconic photos of Coney Island from its epic reign through its Post-War deterioration into a dere-lict “my balls” trashy-ass scene, so I applied rigorous standards and ended up with this one. Coincidentally, there are breasts. I hope the tasteful,  impactful photo is titillating enough (excuse the

Only a deep man love for Stuart – you’re ok too –  can explain the effort of getting this out this early on Saturday. I’ve only slept a few hours in the past 2 days and some of those were in the backseat of an Echo on St. Mark’s and