By Erin Sherbert
By Erin Sherbert
By Leif Haven
By Erin Sherbert
By Chris Roberts
By Kate Conger
By Brian Rinker
By Rachel Swan
James and Ted in Up in Smoke!
People keep asking us, "How can the new Examiner possibly make all the mistakes it makes?" Up till now, we've had to tell these people: We have no idea.
Just today, though, Dog Bites learned that the mezzanine level of the Fang Warfield Building -- the name now painted above the proud portal of 988 Market St. -- houses a large indoor marijuana growing operation.
Upstairs: a staff that can't spell San Francisco. Downstairs: fine bud.
Not that we're suggesting these two things are related. Oh, no, no, no, no, no. But Dog Bites dropped by on Monday and, up a chipped marble staircase that, judging by the grime and tattered wads of Kleenex adorning its treads, hadn't been swept in several years, found the HOPE (Helping Others Progress and Endure) medicinal cannabis center. And guess what? According to a sign visible inside, it's having a holiday sale. Grade A M39 is $45 an eighth, $25 a sixteenth, while #5 Good Green Mexican was $25 for 3 grams, and is now $15. That's what we call festive!
Feigning a limp, we knocked on the door. There was no answer, but through its glass panel we could see a blue tarp, beyond which were visible electrical cords and the brilliant white light of high-pressure sodium lamps. Through the metal slot inset below the glass panel came a warm, fan-born breeze bearing the pungent, unmistakable odor of high-grade dope.
Well, we couldn't just stand there. We knocked again, then checked the door to the mezzanine, where we found a Department of Building Inspections electrical permit listing James Fang as the owner of the building, though records show the owner as Fox Warfield LLC. A would-be client showed up and gave the door of the HOPE Center several good kicks, which reverberated down the dusty hallway. "They have a lot of equipment back there, so they can't always hear," he explained.
And now neither can we: Reached at Asian Week, James Fang first banged down the phone, then, when we called back, screamed "HellOOOOOO" in our ear in an apparent attempt to deafen us.
Who says Dog Bites' job is "fun"?
Play and Win With Fangxaminer Watch!
OK, the Fangxaminer apparently has a solid tenant for its building; not only that, the paper has also figured out a novel way to cut its editorial budget -- by printing the same stories twice. Friday's F-Exfeatured two identical reviews of Thirteen Days -- one headlined "Thirteen Days is a suspenseful retelling of Cuban Missle Crisis" and the other, two pages later, headed "Thirteen Days a lucid, suspenseful retelling of Cuban Missile Crisis.")
Triple word score for those who spotted the misspelling of "missile" in the first version. Dog Bites also extends thanks and warmest wishes for a prosperous New Year to Larry Oliver and Geoffrey Smart, both of whom were kind enough to alert us to the story duplication. Larry and Geoff will be entered to win an exclusive Dog Bites T-shirt, as will John Heinmiller, who wrote to point out one of the F-Ex's classic sports section screw-ups. Under a photo (credited, it pains Dog Bites to note, to Name Here) of former New York Jets Director of Football Operations Bill Parcells, the caption read: "Xxxxx xx xxxxx: Lortie el del ing exercil ex eummy nosto eliquat irueetuer ipit ea feum zzriusci."
Ex eummy nosto indeed, we say! And, in a heartwarming demonstration of the way members of the community are making the F-Ex a part of their lives, John went on to report: "At work, we had fun playing with these words, making them sound different. Tom made them sound Italian. Tino made them sound Chinese. I made them sound Japanese. Mike, no goof-off, made them sound both Spanish and Mexican (how he did that is a mystery). Of course, none of us knew what the hell we were saying."
Yeah, well, there's a lot of that going around.
Business for Dummies
The sunny weather Monday found moms snapping pictures of their children in front of the Martin Luther King Jr. memorial in Yerba Buena Gardens; families filed respectfully through the passage behind the waterfall, reading King's words as they went. No, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.
Closer to SFMOMA, a Free Mumia rally was in progress; one young man walking away was arguing with his companions: "No, I'm just saying you can observe Martin Luther King Day however you want."
Dog Bites got back to the office to learn that our friend Paul (see last week's column) had observed the holiday by doing exactly what he'd been threatening to do: He'd "updated" the population numbers on the "Welcome to San Francisco" sign on the shoulder of Highway 101. "I changed it from 719,000 to 819,000," he crowed. "I think the eight looks pretty good, too." Paul also reported that according to the sign -- which, trust us, he's seen a lot more closely than we have -- the 719,000 figure officially given was from the 1980 census.
That, of course, may be just one more piece of evidence that the '80s never really went away. Or, as Patrick R. Duffy of Rockville, Md., writes, "With young Bush promising to cut taxes and raise military spending, it may well be the '80s again but without a cool MTV or anything."