Looks as if we got our weekly Tuesday Noon Siren Test in early when some of San Francisco’s emergency sirens went off today at 3:45PM to … mark the end of Sunday Streets Chinatown?
“A siren from San Francisco’s Outdoor Public Warning System sounded at about 3:45 p.m. Sunday, but a City Twitter account stated that the siren was activated accidentally.”
Presenting the Martin Macks Gastro Pub Parklet, as seen at Haight Street – don’t try stealing this one, you know, the way other people have stolen parklets:
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I’m stumped on this issue – I can’t even hazard a guess as to the answer.
Did you know that the Tenderloin was this close to Japantown?
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Do you know anybody, I mean a regular person, who goes around talking about the economic compatibility of the residents of one part of town with another?
I don’t know, wouldn’t some SFPark meters look good right here, right where Port of San Francisco employees park their BMWs and Mercedes Benzeses for free all the live-long day at the north end of Davis?
Yes, that’s BMW, BMW, BMW and Mercedes, Mercedes, Mercedes all in a row. Oh wait, some clown parked a Toyota right where a Port of San Francisco worker (average salary package well into the six figures) was going to park a Mercedes that we all paid for? Oh well. Let’s hope that Toyota got booted or towed with extreme prejudice by Auto Takeaway Return:
Les mise-en-scene, Howard Street. What you’re seeing here is Gavin’s former ride (a gas-powered SUV with monstrous 6.0-litre engine) next to some mayoral types and some San Francisco Chronicle people in an off-the-record excloo interview:
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And here’s Gavin raging at Matier and Ross* over this story. Let’s listen in, shall we?
“…YOU GOT ME DOWN THERE IN THE GULF…” “…WITH ALL THIS OIL COMING UP…”
Now he’s saying all this while waving his arms up and down in unison, pantomiming the out-of-control oil gushing up from the floor of the Gulf of Mexico.
Isn’t that funny?
From left: Gavin, Gavin’s engorged carotid artery, Andrew Ross, and SFGov security staring down the barrel of my camera lens through a pair of Foster Grants:
This was for tout le monde to hear right in front of Moscone Center West.
(Or, maybe it’s the The Toughest Job You’ll Never Love. Haven’t decided yet, actually.)
I’ll tell you, if you ever decide to work on a one-day gig as an Election Inspector for the City and County of San Francisco, they’ll be sure to give you a checklist of tasks that stretches a mile. But, I’ll tell you, The System Works.
If people take the effort to vote, San Francisco will make enormous efforts to see that those votes gets tabulated.
Anyway, that’s the lesson I learned after pulling a double shift (16 hours!) yesterday.
I don’t know if I’ll be available to ever, ever do this again, but you, well, get involved if you want.
The best part about the Park and Rec Department’s renewed campaign to punish users of the Panhandle bike path for no good reason is when cyclists get hit from all angles unexpectly.
T’pau! Right in the kisser!
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That will learn people not to ride their bikes on the bike path on those dreaded sunny days…
First with the drugs. No surprises here, really. Note the bump in the Lombard / Marina area where it’s cheaper to live in a motel than live in an apartment for some reason. Also note, the hillock in the outer Outer Sunset way out there near La Playa – that surprises me not. However, I was not aware of some of the other baby hills on this map. (Also, appears as if some of our youthful USF students are more into the drugs than their peers at SFSU…)
Simply, this is an awesome way to display this data:
Now, with the sex workers. Again, Lombard Street seems to have more than its fair share of elevation.
The bumps in the Sunset and the Richmond – I can’t relate them to my mental map of San Francisco. But there they are:
Doug beseeches us to not consider these maps ”as being accurate,” but it’s a little late for that for me.
Anyway, it’s quite an art project. (In fact, there’s your art show right there – just do these maps in 3D for real using paper or whatnot and then get the National Endowment for the Arts on the horn.)