UPDATE: Looks like Tommy’s Joynt may not be shut down after all. Despite all the evidence presented below, I just got good news! Chris Henry, owner of Tommy’s Joynt, emailed me saying, “We’re not permanently closed! We’re temporarily shut down due to covid and mandatory closure from government.” I reached out

OFF MENU IS SPONSORED BY BENDER’S BECAUSE THEY ARE BADASS. DROP BY AND MAKE SOME BAD DECISIONS WITH SOME GOOD PEOPLE! Weird things happen at the Li Po Lounge. I was there one night many years ago for some random basement dance party that a friend was involved with. You know how those

I am extremely excited to announce the release of The Delicious Card! Delicious cardholders get awesome deals at over 30 of your favorite SF eateries! Membership is a great way to explore new places, support local businesses, and support local journalism.

Things can get weird at Pier 23. It sometimes seems like all the forces in the universe collide there causing a perfect storm of what San Francisco should be like to those outside looking in. It’s a seafood joint, on the Embarcadero, with live music, a full bar, plenty of tourists, and good amount of locals.

OFF MENU IS SPONSORED BY EMPEROR NORTON’S BOOZELAND THE TENDERLOIN’S NEWEST HISTORIC DIVE.  HAPPY HOUR NOON – 7PM This originally appeared in my Weeknighter column for 7×7 The first time I went to Comstock Saloon was with a woman I wasn’t dating. My girlfriend at the time was out of town and we

This originally appeared ing my Weeknighter column for 7×7.  There’s an incredible song that Johnny Cash recorded on the first of his American Recordings albums called “The Beast in Me.” The first stanza goes: The beast in me Is caged by frail and fragile bars Restless by day And by

It beckons you. Through neon lights and an illuminated martini glass, it calls your name. With cheap booze and rambling conversation, it pulls you in. Like a moth to a flame, or rather, a fly to a bar, The 500 Club sings a sweet siren’s song to all who pass her by. It says, “We are for each other,” and you admit she’s right, popping in for just one drink, which always turns into three.

This originally appeared in my Weeknighter column in the SF Bay Guardian  There’s something romantic about San Francisco’s summertime fog. Those damp and chilly nights belong only to us, and the atmosphere they create is what dreams are made of. While the rest of the country simultaneously shares the same

Sutter Station doesn’t give a fuck. In fact it has been steadfastly sitting on Market Street, not giving fucks since 1969. That’s before BART existed, before Tales of the City came out, and before the Beatles broke-up.