With my hometown dining companions trailing behind me as I scurried through the Market St. mass traffic of vagabonds and ill-forgotten street pharmacists, it’s impossible not to spot the lone foreign flag hanging outside the door. As a self-proclaimed unpatriotic citizen, the flag represents more than nationalism. The flag

I remember living on Valencia St. when KFC was still on the block, junkies constantly shouted above the bell of the nearby church and Lost Weekend had half-off Wednesday and VHS tapes. Then, the gallery attendants below me started to leave traces of hispterdom: cans of PBR. They were everywhere.

As 2024 winds down, we’re reflecting on another incredible year of sharing the stories, art, culture, and nightlife that make the Bay Area so unique. BrokeAssStuart.com wouldn’t be what it is without you—our community of readers, supporters, and believers in independent media. This year, instead of asking you to join Patreon