The city is alive again with stylish people out and about and well dressed. Last week in San Francisco, spring was everywhere I looked. As the abbreviated days of winter give way to the unpretentiously crisp city nights of March, loose cherry blossom petals speckle the sidewalks along side where

Red Hots Burlesque just had its 10th anniversary, but also spawned a new multimedia midnight cabaret incarnation that will make Union Square weird as hell this Saturday night. Body TABOO defiance defies normal description, but producer Dottie Lux tells BrokeAssStuart.com, “It’s a performance art showcase of different interdisciplinary performance artists

By Jonas Barnes When I first laid eyes on “The Exorcist“, I shit my pants. Was it fear or was it the fact that I was a 6 year old? I guess we’ll never know the answer to that question. It did, however, set off a chain of events that

By Hannah Harkness I first found the Rocky Horror Picture Show the same way a lot of people in my generation found it. When I was a teenager, I was flipping through channels around Halloween and paused momentarily on VH1. Something came on the screen and I said: “Wow…this is

GUEST POST By:  Satan, Prince Of Darkness Puny humans! My Antichrist is revealed in a recent FiveThirtyEight “polls-plus” forecast. As you can plainly see above from a recent FiveThirtyEight forecast, My great false messiah is revealed to be your Democratic Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton, thus ensuring her complete victory over

The weather has been indecisive since the day I arrived and today is no different. Heavy oversaturated thunderheads lean on the craggy edges of El Mordor: Mexico City. I’m not sure if it’s lightning I see in the corner of my eye, or my espantos arriving uncharacteristically early. Still, no

Nite Owl My head is pounding. I’d gone straight from work, to the gym, to yet another hijacked political meeting and finally a rather awkward, albeit surrealistically humorous event entitled San Francisco Political Squares. It was cute, well constructed and everyone was trying their damndest to channel Paul Lynde (or

The San Bruno Owl winds its way through the mists South of Market as we head towards Van Ness. There aren’t many people on the northbound motor coach at this hour, with the exception of a few stragglers and a nattily dressed older woman who is harping on a teenager