The Needle and the Damage

I ain't saying it's good and I ain't saying it's bad, but this whole Golden Gate Park business has my head spinning. Maybe this will help you understand it all.












This is the needle that lay in the Park












This is the junkie who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park















This is the cardboard under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park












This is the bottle next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park















This is the Rec and Park worker who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park















This is the Mayor who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park






This is the newspaper that pushed the Mayor
Who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park










This is the citizen who bought the newspaper
That pushed the Mayor
Who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park















These are the taxes paid by the citizen
Who bought the newspaper
That pushed the Mayor
Who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park














This is the city budget funded by the taxes
Paid by the citizen
Who bought the newspaper
That pushed the Mayor
Who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park















This is the nonprofit agency included in the city budget
Funded by the taxes
Paid by the citizen
Who bought the newspaper
That pushed the Mayor
Who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park















This is the needle handed out by the nonprofit agency
Included in the city budget
Funded by the taxes
Paid by the citizen
Who bought the newspaper
That pushed the Mayor
Who directed the Rec and Park worker
Who picked up the bottle
Next to the cardboard
Under the junkie
Who dropped the needle
That lay in the Park

You Never Give Me Your Money

It was Gavin. Or more accurately, Gavin's people. They were calling. Calling all Saturday morning because, well, Gavin needed me. It was important that his people talk to me about what he needed from me.

I ignored the first couple of calls because the caller ID popped up with (999) 999-9999. Even early on Saturday morning, I could figure out that I don't know a soul in the 999 area code. But the calls kept coming and finally I answered.

"Hi, this is Lindsey from the Gavin Newsom for Mayor campaign and we're hoping that you can support Gavin," said the chipper, sweet female voice on the phone.

"Yeah, I've heard of him. He'll probably win," I replied in my usual Saturday morning non-chipper voice.

"Could we count on your support? Perhaps hosting a coffee at your home or distributing campaign literature or even a donation?"

I resisted the temptation to ask why the leading candidate who has $1.6 million in his war chest and no serious challengers, would bother to ask me for spare change. Instead, I just said, "I don't think so."

And that would have been that except...the Gavin Newsom for Mayor campaign continued to call me for the rest of the morning. Besides Lindsey, there was Monique, Justin, Trey, Kathi, and a few more. There were about seven calls before noon on Saturday. All from the mysterious 999 area code.

Now I understand that politics is a lot like warfare and in warfare, using overwhelming force is usually the way to win. I understand perfectly well that Patton was Patton cause he loved obliterating Nazi Panzer divisions more than doing anything else on a given Saturday morning. I guess Gavin's people are kind of like that, too. But seven calls? To me?


I'm even going to vote for the guy, which I told Lindsey and a few of the others, even though I don't think he's really mayoral material. My support is really based on the hot girlfriends he's had the last couple of years (why can't the girl in this photo call me? now that's a voice I might enjoy waking up to on Saturday morning). And support is support and a vote is a vote. Maybe Lindsey just forgot to write my name down on a post it note so that Kathi and Trey and the others would know they didn't have to call me?

Eventually, though, my natural optimism returned. At least Chris Daly's people weren't calling.

Taking the Fun Outta Dysfuctional

Well, damn. Right when every political satirist in San Francisco was licking his chops, just imagining the frivolity of it all, Supervisor Chris Daly decides not to run for Mayor. Disappointing to say the least.

I mean at least he should have had a good reason to drop out. Something like Gary Hart getting caught with Donna Rice. But, no, Daly isn't running because he thinks he'll get his ass handed to him on a Plumpjack silver platter. Lame, Chris, just plain lame.

Who will be there to shake down the big money developers, if not Daly? Who will funnel millions of dollars into his favorite homeless "charities", if not Chris? Who will stop the warmongering Blue Angels as they terrorize our skies during Fleet Week, if not him? Who will have the cojones to scream "fuck you!" to constituents right in Room 200, if not Mayor Daly?

Think of it, Chris! You'd have been in the papers everyday! You could have told Bronstein to take his newspaper and stick it where the sun don't shine! Maybe even Wilkes Bashford would have given you a decent suit to wear! And most importantly, you'd have been able to push important legislation to stop all these City Hall honchos from fucking their secretaries!