It’s not enough to still be in business as an independent stationer and 4th generation San Franciscan. This century demands more of you.
Tra-la-la.
Rest assured, as the child of a lifelong Oakland-and-Los Angeles Raiders fan, I jump no bandwagon, save the deliciously wrong bandwagon of buffalo tofu.
Your neighbors would like to remind you where you reside.
49ers Mile Scenic Drive
As long as they don’t start putting Dilbert strips up, fine, fine.
What is most surprising is not the snow, but that there is only one Juggalo.
Just hittin’ some balls back and forth. Cute elves. Jesus surfers. Good people.
Possesses the wiry strength of a welterweight de Kooning.
Everything in its right place.
This is what happens to people who don’t bring organic orange wedges to practice. Don’t let it happen again.
Even in winter, the field is set with cones for a scrimmage between the House and Senate.
The air around a Lou Gehrig signed baseball is popped corn and peanuts, warm beers and coca-cola, youth, cigar smoke, dusty baseball caps, softly beaten leather mitts, garbage-sticky streets and the shout of “Car!” and an unrestrained measure of wonder.
Joe Louis, Nazi hunter.
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