I’d like to open my remarks with a humorous anecdote. The Official Bird of San Francisco isn’t the California Quail, it’s the crane. [Pause for gasps and puzzled looks.] The construction* crane! [Pause to wait for the applause to die down, to enjoy the smiles of onlooking Walter Wong and Rose Pak, to bask in glory of being appointed by that guy who got appointed by that guy who got appointed by Willie Brown, to exult in being an obedient figurehead girl who does exactly what Downtown tells her to do.]
Be sure to invite me over to enjoy the 20+ foot tall penthouse playground.
Box, crane tower, another box, sky, clouds. NewMa, meet OldMa:
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All the fun will start in 2015…
*By that, she means tower crane, which I suppose is what people call them in everyday life. I’ll remember 2013 as the year I could see a dozen huge tower cranes over San Francisco every day. Not that that’s a bad thing in itself. But corruption is a bad thing, right?