Monday afternoon observation

Number one, I'm quickly un-learning how to spell. I struggled with 'observation' there for a split-second. Me lose brain? Uh-oh! Computer make dumb.

Two, it's impossible to be a successful journalist in this city if you are mono-lingual. You will always miss something unless you speak Mandarin, Spanish, English as well as Russian and maybe some Portuguese, and don't feel out of place on Hunters Point Blvd, but to only speak one language while pretending to chronicle SF is a lot like... oh, I don't know, a metaphor, let's see let's see... using a unicycle to try and win a bike race? Although the hipsters would LOVE that.

Three, I went to a bar in Russian Hill on Saturday for a sporting event. I had forgotten how much I hated sports bars. Thank you, vortex of humanity.

Four, it's hard enough to be a journalist without speaking anyone else's language save white, middle class and a little afraid of the world at large... but it's even more difficult when you cannot secure a press pass after weeks (weeks!) of trying and explaining to increasingly irate bosses why you need one, and when you have to duck into Bernal Heights Internet cafes to receive important documents, only to find you can't log in remotely for some inane whateverthefuck reason.

And I work for a corporation.

I, like you, didn't get to see any damn torch

What a day. What a waste. Think of it, San Francisco -- you could have been washing your hair.

Everyone who showed up on foot to catch a glimpse of the Beijing 2008 Olympic torch was, in the word of one spectator, "hosed." Unlike those crackheads who emerged from the TL onto Van Ness Avenue between 2 and 2:30 p.m., who must have figured they were getting D.Ts.

Anyway, there's nothing I can say hasn't been said already. So here are some photos.



Lot of flags out today. Lot, lot of flags. A bit of arguing, too. And some signs.


The only real excitement today came near the end. Some dude, who may have been planning this all along, took off his clothes! What a nutso! But man, did he give the SFPD an eyeful.



So, yeah: a naked dude. That's what we contributed to Western Civilization today.

I can't believe they ran this #1

Here's another soon-to-be regular feature: the ones that somehow slipped through.

We're a conservative rag in this here liberal city, so even I was shocked to see we ran this shot of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.



But what the hey? It's SF.

Stuff you can get away with at a big daily, #1: making shit up

Last week's Nevius had some News To Me: that "chronic alcohol abuse is a major problem in the Outer Mission District."

He cites no sources, statistics, or any information whatsoever supporting the claim, which is a lot like saying there are no drunks in any other part of town, or that chronic tardiness is a major problem in the Marina. It's just a facetiously baseless claim. I lived in the Excelsior, and not once was I bothered by the mob of drunks roaming the streets in search of Manischewitz. It just ain't there.

I'm not offering any wit or savvy insight here, maybe cos it's late, or maybe cos I'm just completely baffled how the Chron's columnist can just make shit up.

Unfit for Publication #1

In an effort to make posting a little more regular -- even if I'm at a baseball game, burned out from writing multiple stories during the day or drunk, as I was on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of this week, respectively -- we at The Spectator are kicking off what we hope is one of several weekly departments.

This, the first, is called "Unfit for Publication," whatever it is that didn't quite make the cut for our print outlet.

There are dozens of pix from the protest of two weeks ago I have yet to throw up on Flickr, and those all count. Today's, however, is a tribute.



Kinda looks like him, don't it?

What Gavin told me

Back to the census story, briefly. I made up for being slighted by pissing off everybody -- the Mayor's staff, a Supervisor, and the Mayor himself -- on Tuesday morning. Or at least trying real hard to do that.

"No other Mayor has done more for the black community."

I got that nugget after I read to the Mayor a quote from the publisher of SF's only black newspaper, after the Mayor's Office scheduled a press conference in the Fillmore District, talking about black people, without -- so they all said, anyway -- telling people in the Fillmore District. Which means, without telling black people.

The publisher said something along the lines of, "Gavin Newsom doesn't care about us. Gavin Newsom only cares about money. His interests are big interests."

So the conference ends and it's quote time. While the other press hacks are swarming around and asking Gavin about the Olympic torch, I snake over to Sup. Ross and give him the quote. He gives me a one-sentence answer and then we have the eye-lock silence for 10-15 seconds. I prod a little more and I get some good stuff out of him.

"(The census) won't do a damn thing about black flight," he said. "This (the press conference) is just sugarcoating it." Ok, now we're talking.

So finally everyone else is done with Gavin, and I have my moment. I don't open my mouth before Nathan Ballard swoops in to eavesdrop, but I read it, Gavin asks who said it, I tell him and he laughs. Puts a hand on my shoulder, tries to dismiss it. He's good, that one. Gavin goes off to list all of the things done recently that "disproportionately" aided SF's black community.

Gavin Newsom: SF's first black mayor? (Sorry, Willie).

Gonzo moment/G. gets scooped

Pretty effing steamed right now. Weeks ago, I overheard on a BART train that the Mayor was challenging the census. I called the office with the info -- had it confirmed off the record that it was indeed true, but a 'non-story.' Told to bide my time, I'd be informed as it developed. Did what I was told.

Today, Mayor G. lets drop to the A.P. and the Chronicle that there's 100,000 extra people in town that the census somehow missed. There's 867,000 of us, not 767,000, the rest in hidden in undisclosed locations or something in Western Addition and Bayview.

(To the non-West Coast friends and family, this means thus: that everyone's hiding out in the black part of town.)

The story I had weeks ago. The story I was told to sit on. I played ball, and struck out.

Lesson learned? Ahh... forthcoming. Wanna break stuff right now more than anything else. Am looking forward to giving press officer the business tomorrow. She'll listen, cos clearly Gav's Office cares about the local media, local issues and local politics. Clearly...

"It is a city of haves and have-nots," Newsom said.

No shit.

*******************

Before that broke in my face...

Was going to tell you how, on the way off the BART and onto the street, walking towards the car for Stage 2 of my one-hour in-city commute, I turned the corner and saw flashing lights, cops crowded, cops concerned, cops talking to guy laying on the street, wrapped up in the frame of a bike in front of a white truck. Cops talking, cops human, cops trying to find out who was hit, why was hit, what was hit. No ID, no talking. In pain. BART-load of people shuffling past in the dark, cops yelling, 'ANYONE SEE WHAT HAPPENED?' Couple stares, couple slowing down before putting feet back in gear and down the road. 'ANYONE SEE WHAT HAPPENED?' Reporter didn't take photos, statements, didn't even slow down.

Had to take a leak.

Had to drain it before I hopped back in the car, before I drove past and looked again, saw dude extracted from bike and inserted into ambulance, jeans cut away to reveal swollen leg, me driving off to Safeway where bread, tomatoes and strawberries flown in from Mexcio cost more than they did a few months ago.