One of the patrons at Harrington’s Pub helped me figure out why I can’t remember people’s names–they need to tell me how many times they were married, how they got to San Francisco, and how they could have been rich.
So from now on, when you introduce yourself to me, I’ll require your life story. Read on.
After the money-making arm of The Society forced its hand, had to temporarily abandon the column over at SFist. This is a fancy way of saying jobs, people, we have jobs.
Unconcerned with making money any longer, we return to historical edification.
The first of the new series went up yesterday.
Saturday, Inbound 71 around 8:25AM, Lower Haight
You’d a lot to say
Were you wearing a Bluetooth?
Nope, just crazy is all.