This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column in the SF Examiner With tax season just past us there’s been a lot of talk about what President Donald Trump’s tax scam means for average Americans. There’s no doubt about what it means for the wealthy; millionaires and billionaires are getting

I live on the top floor of a building constructed in 1914. To put that in context, Russia still had a Tsar when my building went up. Because it’s old and wooden, it shakes and sways. When a big truck goes by I can often feel the rumble. When they were drilling for some new construction across the way, I could feel that too. And when one of my roommates is having sex, I can most definitely feel it.

“This really is an amazing city,” Quincy said as we drove past the Panhandle on our way to dinner in the Sunset. She had just returned from traveling extensively through Germany, France, and England and was tying up loose ends before returning to London to continue graduate school.

“After the past few nights, I’ve realized San Francisco is a tale of three cities,” I say to the little group of people I’m smoking and drinking with.

One of the many weird things about San Francisco is that even though it’s not a particularly dog friendly city there are still more dogs here than children.

The story goes that, the day after breaking ground for the 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition, President William H. Taft, the last of our exquisitely mustachioed Commander-in-Chiefs, toasted San Francisco as “The City that Knows How.” It had been less than a decade since the Great Conflagration had burned most of The City to the ground, and President Taft was in awe at the incredible speed at which San Francisco had managed to rebuild.

The tech ideal of “move fast and break things” is cute until really important things, like access to housing, healthcare and a job, are broken.

The trend of playing “SportsCenter” on nearly every public TV in the nation is one of the great scourges of our time.