By Erin Sherbert
By Howard Cole
By Erin Sherbert
By Erin Sherbert
By Leif Haven
By Erin Sherbert
By Chris Roberts
By Kate Conger
A Very Special Dog Bites Christmas
Dog Bites was deeply touched to return from vacation to find two yuletide gifts just for us. The first box was from ... Stormy Leather, who, as previously mentioned, have also been responsible for sending us a pint of Liquid Latex and a feather-tipped whip.
Inside, along with a kind note ("Thanks for the write-up! We'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. The hyperactive publicist for Stormy Leather") we found a tissue-wrapped tube of that cedar-scented French incense from Fillamento.
Well! Seldom has shameless hinting paid off quite so well. Dog Bites, who is from a tame background, has never ventured into Stormy Leather, but may have to do so now just to say thank you and maybe look around a little, although not at garments with more than one buckle.
The second package bore the return address "Nestor Makhno, Somewhere in the Mission," and contained a gift-wrapped book by one P. Arshinov, titled History of the Makhnovist Movement 1918-1921, as well as (surprise!) an anti-car postcard, which we're going to put up on our bulletin board.
And later, Nestor himself called -- from a pay phone, as usual -- to recommend the volume as an exciting read. "It's the political equivalent of a pirate movie," he said.
More importantly, did he have a good Christmas? "Well, I'm not big on commodity fetishism," he answered. "It's not really my holiday."
Since this is still more or less the holiday season of goodwill toward all, we will bear patiently the teasing of our officemates, in particular Mr. George Cothran, who claims to be convinced that our elopement with Mr. Makhno to found a utopian community is imminent. Especially since Mr. Makhno is, or was, blissfully unaware of our materialistic fixations on Miele HEPA filter vacuum cleaners, whether shoes with clunky heels are still in for spring, and the British edition of Homes and Gardens.
Hail, Flock of Malcontents!
Meanwhile, the Sport Utility Vehicle Proliferation Fellowship appears to be getting ready to play some hardball. In yet another faxed communique, the SUV-PF notes, "We are concerned that the portion of our manifesto that was printed will give the flock of malcontents that peruse your paper --" and here Dog Bites pauses to say, Hmph! Those are our readers you're talking about! "-- the impression that we are some sort of militant group.
"As far as I remember this is a capitalist regime that we are all living in. As such we feel it is a mistake to target our kind simply because we have amassed a more sizable wealth of material possessions. Like it or not, this culture judges others based on the things we have instead of the people we are. So when the dust settles, it will be people with possessions calling the shots and the people with ideals being rightfully trampled."
Uh, sure. But while all this rightful trampling is going on, Dog Bites feels compelled to ask one question: Are you people for real? We were kind of under the impression that this was all a practical joke, but you're starting to scare us.
"The change we dictate is simply to separate the haves from the have-nots. Why should we be any more forced to coexist with people who don't like us than they should be forced to coexist with us? Since we can buy the better cars, houses, and goods, we will always have first say as to what we get. If the hip areas we decide to live in happen to be the Mission, Noe Valley or any other place, then the others can either get along with us or get out."
Of course, none of this sounds at all militant to us. But the SUV-PF does have one thing going for it: It makes the Mission Yuppie Eradication Project look tolerant by comparison.
Hail, Anti-Social Losers!
We were simply delighted to pick up this month's Nob Hill Gazette and find Editor/Publisher Lois Lehrman inviting us to "find your name on our tantalizing Tote Board," the Gazette's annual accounting of who had his or her photo in its pages the most times.
So we talked to the Gazette's Nancy Whelan-Stevens, who compiled this year's list, to find out how we could improve our chances of making next year's list. "Hmm," she stalled. "Go to every big event that's going on out there? Send your picture in?"
Wait a minute: You mean people send their own pictures in to the paper?
"Well, it's a combination of that and that we send a photographer out to all the big galas," she answered.
So in that case, how do we get invited to the kinds of places at which we'd be likely to be photographed? "Make donations. Big, big donations. Then everyone will love you," said Whelan-Stevens.
Umm, say you don't have much money. Is there another way?
Whelan-Stevens considered. "Well, most of the events are ticketed. The tickets are around $100 or so per person on average."