Foolish Notion.
The Mission’s own Area 51.
Those were the days.
Hot ankle action.
The Tenderloin Geographic Society in 1906.
You’re in the Tenderloin, all digressive conversation and hoit and toit, then you lay down the law and say it’s time for upscale boilermakers. Next thing you know you’re in Lower Haight listening to Nine Inch Nails with a vegan hamwich and you’re not even a vegan. Everyone’s wearing funny hats. And worse, they all look to be 18. How nice, this late summer/early autumn evening!
One would be forgiven for seeing irony or overuse, in the way that we say what we don’t mean until we gradually can’t undo the knots of seeming and meaning. This, the zeitgeist demands of us.
Ye olde(r) PG&E. Almost seems worth the black lung so long as things don’t get all sploded.
is preferable to
Louis’ is where I’d head when I needed simple pancakes and an unobstructed view of the Pacific shelf. When the Musee Mechanique was still housed in the rotting old Cliff House, the overall experienced comprised a very nice afternoon (if you could manage to hit the place between tour buses).
I appreciate what the GGNRA has done in spite of California’s economic conditions, but messing with anything “ye olde” and diner-ish is asking for it.
Despite being inclined toward vegetarianism, I don’t want the place to turn into something like the Warming Hut—as much as I love organics, I believe there’s room enough in this town for white flour and corn syrup: I’d reckon that the tourists do, too.
Admittedly, you’ll overpay for the omelette-accented view at Louis’, and as I rarely get into the Cliff House for a drink—weak diner coffee does me just fine.
Incidentally, I think if San Francisco had more simple diners, I wouldn’t want to fight so hard for every single one. I’ll be headed out there to sign the petition tomorrow.