By Anna Pulley
By Erin Sherbert
By Chris Roberts
By Erin Sherbert
By Rachel Swan
By Joe Eskenazi
By Erin Sherbert
By Erin Sherbert
Twisted, Compassion-Imparied ... Yeah, That Sounds About Right
I found your article "How to Stalk, Kill, and Cook a California Wild Pig" (Sept. 2) completely disgusting, and inappropriate as well. Since statistics show that only about 7 percent of Americans hunt at all, why would your publication think that devoting six or more pages to the manly art of pig killing, complete with photo and detailed description of how to rip the poor creature's head off, would have broad appeal in the City of St. Francis?
I think the decision to print this article had to have been made by the compassion-impaired among you, with a twisted sense of entertainment and little respect for life!
We found your feature article on killing wild pigs ("How to Stalk, Kill, and Cook a California Wild Pig") both horrifying and disgusting -- not because we are animal rights advocates, but because the article contained upsetting pictures and sickening commentary.
Who do you think your readership consists of, anyway? A bunch of survivalist middle-aged slugs? Well, that is not who lives, breathes, and thrives here in the Bay Area. We expected far more from SF Weekly, which, up till now, we considered a reputable and enjoyable newspaper. Unfortunately, mistakes like this one will cost you. On behalf of this group of young professional men and women in my office (which numbers close to 15), we hope that in the future you are a little more discretionary regarding what you decide to print, and especially what you decide to feature.
Dog Bites: Sooo Jaded
I have quite often enjoyed your column for the past year or so, with your jaded views very often matching my own. This latest one hit so close to home I had to let you know: Great work! ("Power to the, Uh ...," Dog Bites, Sept. 2). Keep it up, if it doesn't kill you.
It's killing me. The influx of yuppies into the city I have lived in for 11 years is now forcing me to move somewhere forgotten in the East Bay, or up to Washington state -- if those killer SUVs and rude motorists taking over this town and running down all the bikers like me haven't littered the sidewalks and open space over there like they have in SOMA.
"Mellowing out," the classic panacea of those who can't empathize anymore, isn't possible when the rampant cultural suppression these yuppies bring to town is threatening your life on a daily basis.
If anyone owns up to putting up those posters calling for the destruction of Beemers and SUVs, send 'em my e-mail address: I'd love to go car-bashing with them. I'm sick of being run over and overrun by these mindless, cultureless bimbos who just don't give a rat's ass about anything else around them. Everyone driving in this town is on the phone, groping on the floor, running lights, or lost; none of them are PAYING ATTENTION.
After a year of being kept awake until 4:30 a.m. on weekends by vomiting, screaming partiers and endlessly blaring car alarms on those yuppie deathmobiles along my alley off Folsom, I'm giving up. My comrade in the Mission is too late: S.F. has already become Orinda and Walnut-brain Creep, just on a more focused, intense scale.
Benjamin von Ullrich
Yuppie Bastards: Caveat Emptor
As one of the authors of the Mission Yuppie Eradication Project wall posters, calling for poor people in the Mission District to fight the gentrification of our neighborhood by vandalizing yuppies' cars, I was happy that Dog Bites published the complete text of our poster ("Power to the, Uh ..."). To undercut us, Dog Bites implied everyone benefits from a "vibrant, economically successful San Francisco." But prosperity for bosses, landlords, and real estate speculators means poverty for wage-earners, tenants, and people on fixed incomes. Stagnant wage levels and skyrocketing rents are transforming San Francisco into a Disneyland for the rich.
Several years ago the Bay Guardian ran a cover story about the gentrification of Valencia Street. The Garbagecan said, in effect, that the upscaling of our neighborhood was hip and "progressive," since some of the capitalists driving the working class out were non-whites or gays -- and the Guardian crowd like to party at Bruno's, too.
The yuppification of the Mission District is not inevitable. As opposed to those who claim our only hope is a major earthquake, my friends and I know that direct action by combative poor and working people can save our neighborhood and our world from the predators of the global market system.
The automobile is the key commodity of modern capitalist society. Expensive private automobiles have historically been the symbol of successful bourgeois acquisitiveness. They make an excellent target for our rage.
Here's a question for yuppie bastards to consider before signing a mortgage on a $300,000-$750,000 live/work space on Harrison Street: Should you move into a neighborhood full of angry poor people who know you and your property on sight, hate your guts, and will stop at nothing to save their 'hood from you?