Guest Post by Kurt Schlichter
Tony Bennet’s famous song about those cable cars that climb half-way to the stars leaves out the fact that once you hop off one of those rickety tourist traps you have to tip-toe through a minefield of used soup kitchen free lunches laid down by the city’s army of ubiquitous vagrants. But maybe you’ll get lucky and step on a discarded needle instead of a former baloney sandwich.
Enter the search term “San Francisco feces map” into Google and it comes back with 1,040,000 results. Yeah, it’s a thing. San Francisco was always grungy – back in the 1980s, I believe it was comic Bobby Slayton who called it “the city that makes its own gravy” – but it has gone from merely unwashed to actively unflushed.
Continue reading “I Left My Shoes In San Francisco”
