THE COFFEE IS LOUSY, TRUST ME

Disturbingly, it rained during the night. We who have lived here a long time are unused to such goings on. Let us pray that it does not encourage recent transplantees from the United States to stay.

I could creatively detail precisely what is wrong with Americans (the aforementioned transplantees), but it would never-the-less get boring, by reason of being repetitious. Suffice to say we do not like them. And would rather that their overweight relatives from Teapartistan not visit, and hog up the sidewalks.


We had thought ourselves isolated from the cannibals, but thanks to collaborators in the halls of power -- secretive influence peddlers with connections to real estate interests and venture capitalists from San Jose and other horrid places -- our city has been made attractive, and the carpetbaggers have kept on flooding in.

Programmers, marketing types, Indian engineers, and hipsters.
We like the engineers; they require zesty food.
The others have no taste at all.

Please go home. You already had your place in the sun.
And take your i-phones and tattoos with you.
As well as the yippy little dogs.


Good morning, SF.
Bah, wet.




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