It’s okay, sport: you don’t have to tell anyone what you did to win that Rookie of the Year trophy.
If I were playing with Carol Doda, I’d have to make my name more exciting, too.
Not so much a misspelling as a vowel imperative. Sure, there should be an a in there, but it just looks so good, so round, so right.
Time for a new motto, San Francisco.
For your pleasure. Therefore, NSFW.
Feeling a little let down by Market Street Cinema’s marquee this time around.
Maybe something a little simpler, akin to “Roses are red, violets are blue, let one of our showgirls sit on you?”
I don’t know, they’ve just set my standards so high.
Thanks to The Tens, who is helping me round out my archival magazine wishlist.
I can’t get enough of this guy.
(The woman is from the March, 1968 issue of Playboy. Painted and shot by Mario Casilli.<—-That took some research.)
Continued genius from the former Lit major at Market Street Cinema.
Road trip!
Did you know that the adult venues of North Beach have an outreach program? It consists of a young lady walking the neighborhood, introducing herself and her business concerns to those single men she happens upon. Her manager watches on, as a local inquires about what transpires.
“Yeah, we have a blonde girl, too. They do the talking, I just watch after the girls.”
I would like to point out that as of today, the Market Street Cinema’s marquee is still blank, as it has been since the removal of the above message sometime around Thursday.
At least they understand that we require a palate-cleansing silence. In the meantime, I’ve no idea how they’re going to top this.
Easter baskets?