The streets of San Francisco (or, this is Nancy Pelosi’s city)

Writing a couple of years ago about the streets of San Francisco, in a post I called “Nancy Pelosi’s San Francisco,” I had this to say:

Last week, I had occasion to make four separate trips to the City.  Each was unpleasant.

The first trip, I got a flat tire from broken glass in the street.  I know that can happen anywhere, but it’s more likely along the Market Street stretch I had to travel.

The second trip, I found myself at a corner that boasted both a stop sign and a red light.  This was ludicrous, confusing and, therefore, dangerous.  This is manic control run amok.

The third trip, I almost got a ticket when I parked at what appeared to be a non-metered space.  Half the block had parking meters; half the block, the part where I was parking, didn’t.  It was only because a nice pedestrian warned me that I learned that there was an electronic kiosk about 25 feet away from my car that sold parking passes for the car’s dashboard.  Other than that word of mouth tip, there were no signs at all warning that, while half the block had old-fashioned meters, the other half had switched to a computer system.

The fourth trip, my husband and I were walking down Gough Street towards the Opera House at dusk.  Between the failing light and the broken and dimmed street lights, it was impossible to avoid the hazards of pitted, jagged, broken uneven sidewalk.  It was only because we’re in good shape, with decent balance, that the two of us avoided a painful tumble.  I won’t even describe the smell of urine and sewage that kept wafting up towards us as we walked along.

Welcome to Nancy Pelosi’s San Francisco.

Well, San Francisco has made this disgrace official, by naming a street after Nancy Pelosi.

Proving, as he so often does, that a picture is worth a thousand words, Michael Ramirez has nailed this most recent San Francisco development.

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  • Ymarsakar

    If you think this is the Utopia the Left promised, you might want to think about .Luxuries are only for the Elite Class, those born to rule in the Democrat party and the spiritual leaders like Reverend Wright and Ayers of the Leftist alliance. Are you part of the elite class? 99% of the time, not so.

     The power mad greed of the LEft knows no bounds. Soon you’ll have your house renamed after the Democrats “born to rule”.

  • Ymarsakar

    That line made me remember something. One of the things Taiji Chuan, which I currently train in, teaches is for a person to learn how to use their hip’s auto height adjustment system for walking. Because Westerners are used to walking on even, flat roads, the stabilizer muscles along their hips and upper thighs have become atrophied. That’s why people get so tired climbing mountains or even hills. They aren’t used to such.

    In a martial artist, it’s also applicable in similar ways. 

  • Gringo

    I hope it is a street that the homeless congregate on and bless with their urine.

  • Ymarsakar

    That’s not going to affect PillowC or Feinstein, Gringo. Those are the elites, they walk on clouds and get to have guns and bodyguards to protect themselves with. They never have to step one foot on the lowly earth trodden by peasants.

  • Charles Martel

    Progressives believe they can create heaven on earth without having to go through a killjoy god. So when you construct your heaven, you create what I call “founts of cheap grace” (street bums). There’s no point living in heaven if you cannot constantly remind yourself that you are both a saint and a dispenser of charity and goodwill.
    How you do this in San Francisco is to set aside certain areas where street bums and lumpenproletariat gather—the Tenderloin and South of Market. Though these neighborhoods are physically close to the saints’ hilly domains, they are clearly set apart by agreed-upon markers (clean, well-maintained building fronts; shiny brass fixtures) that enforce a rigid traffic flow: The saints may descend the hill to disburse baubles and encouraging sentiments to the bums (or buy drugs from them), but the bums must never ascend to reciprocate.
    On the macro level, the saints make sure to always use somebody else’s money for programs intended to help the  bums live better. These programs are administered by fierce social-justice types who are content to take the money in return for lifelong jobs where they accomplish nothing trying to rehabilitate people who refuse to be rehabilitated. In this way the founts of cheap grace never break down and never keep stop giving the saints’ bleeding hearts inspiration and protective cover. 
    However, some of heaven’s saints come uncomfortably closer to the founts of grace than others. In the Haight Ashbury, which is a cesspool of street bumdom, the bums often climb the nearby hilly streets to sleep, s**t, piss, puke and otherwise adorn the saints’ stoops and steps. Even though this irritates the hell out of the saints, who are proud of their status, when they complain they assume a Stockholm Syndrome stance: “We know these people are desperate and are forced to relieve themselves on our property. We have failed them. Isn’t there some way to find money to build toilets every 100 feet and maybe hire disadvantaged youths to wipe the butts of the really drunk street persons?”
    So don’t expect things to get better in San Francisco. That’s a petit bourgeois point of view. The saints of San Francisco have a perfect set of contrasts and conditions that manifest and maintain their superiority. Why would they change things simply to accommodate the desire of a Marin lawyer to not walk amidst filth and chaos?


    Charles Martel

    I adore the way you caress the language, delicately express the depth of the issue and all the while – squeeze the living sh*t out of the characters. 😉

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