The last time San Franciscans talked this much about Oakland was in 1906. The City was ablaze and 100,000 residents fled across San Francisco Bay, many never to move back to San Francisco. They say the population of Oakland doubled in roughly 72 hours.
Many of the things we shrug off as normal in San Francisco don’t happen in other places.
This list of great places to eat in the Bay Area will leave you smiling and probably drooling. All these joints are incredibly well priced, locally owned, delicious, and serving takeout in 2020. Check their links for store hours, menus, and ordering info, because things are always changing these days,
This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column in the San Francisco Examiner. “Pride reminds me of the America I want to live in,” I said to whomever was next to me. I was standing near Fourth and Market, a few vodka Red Bulls in, and watching as the beautiful,
In the past seven years, San Francisco has been staggering under the weight of an ugly and brutal struggle: whether to run from its past or hide from its future. You know this. We’ve all had too many friends forced to move, seen too many neighbors evicted and watched helplessly as rents reach “Ground Control to Major Tom” heights
This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column for the SF Examiner (The short version: You can circumvent all the algorithms for my stuff right here.) Facebook announced earlier this year that it’s completely changing its algorithm — a move that will reduce the amount of actual news provided in
San Francisco is a thieving-ass city. It steals hearts. It takes away breath. It captures people’s imaginations after just a single visit. But it’s also larcenous in more concrete ways. Shattered car windows cover sidewalks all over town, sparkling like ill-begotten street diamonds.
In all seriousness, working from home makes you cuckoo. Since you don’t talk to anybody all day, you start talking out loud to yourself or inanimate objects. I find myself singing songs to the fridge about the very food I have inside the fridge, like, “Oooooh yeah baby, baby, I know you got some bacon for meeee!”
I’m pretty vanilla. I mean, not for the mainstream, but by San Francisco standards, I’m not very kinky. I don’t need you to dress up in an Inuit outfit and throw hot coffee on me while calling me “Gargamel.”