FESTIVE EVENTS, SAN FRANCISCO

Today is the Superbowl, which is far more important than any presidential election in the United States. Millions of people will be watching with bated breath as the San Francisco team beats the living daylights out of the Denver Broncos or Dallas Buckeyes, and restores balance to the universe. I shan't be watching. I'll be headed back to San Francisco in what promises to be the quietest commute this year. And I have no dog in this race.
Whoever wins, das ist mir scheißegal.

Tonight I shall go to bed early. All last night locals were setting off fireworks to chase away evil spirits, and welcome in the New Year. It must be working; not a redneck in sight. So we will win. And then we will feast! Lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and breakfast cereals and fruit bats.

In our giddy jollification, we may very well set fire to municipal buses and garbage bins.
And break bottles on Polk street between Union and Washington.
Because we are traditionalists.

And of course we will set off more fireworks.


Years ago, there were so many explosions at this time that some streets in Chinatown were a sea of red scraps, ankle deep. It would go on for nearly six weeks. Then there were a couple of mis-haps, and authorities cracked down. It's sad. I miss the old days. It sounded like the siege of Beirut for over a month. Lovely.


In any case, didn't sleep well. Should be catching up tonight.
No matter the racket and the sounds of rioting.
Have fun with the bottles, guys.
Remember, Bud Light.
Go team!



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