photo via USS Hassayampa

My friends Max and Josh Hunter at Western Dovetail have an amazing view of one of the most interesting events occurring in the Bay Area for the next several months. Max launched the new Drydock Blog sharing their unique vantage point on this amazing project with the world via a webcam on the second floor of their manufacturing facility on Mare Island.

The Suisuin Bay Naval Reserve Fleet as the Federal Government calls it (they get a little huffy when someone refers to it as the Mothball Fleet) is now being removed one ship at a time after an ecological assessment by DARRP and years of handwringing by various other government agencies, environmental groups and the like. Many of the ships will make their first port in decades after their being towed from their off shore location in the outermost reaches of the Bay Area, Suisun Bay to be exact. Some of the ships will then pull into the massive and still functional drydocks on Mare Island.

There are two other locations in the US where the Feds stored the nations no longer necessary naval warhorses in the years after the end of WWII. One is in Newport News, Virginia and the other, in the Neches River near Beaumont Texas.

At least two major Hollywood movies have used the Suisun Bay fleet as a backdrop/set for action sequences. Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry Callahan sequel Magnum Force has Callahan blowing away a secret cabal of vigilante cops on the ghost ships and a limping, cane wielding James Caan avenges himself against the trecherous Robert Duvall on the ship during a wild finale in Sam Peckinpah’s Killer Elite.

Over the years, many people have dodged security to dock on and explore the fleets ghostly, abandoned ships. The San Francisco Suicide Club canoed out on Christmas Eve 1977 dressed as Pirates, nearly capsizing several of the 8 canoes in this ill advised expediton. The Club returned the following year only using inflatable rafts rather than canoes.

The video below shows the arrival of the SS Solon Turman.

James Cagney as Tom Powers in The Public Enemy

For a hot sunny day, a breezy panama is just the ticket for a steely gentleman.

Sean Connery in Louis Vuitton ad

When I first moved to San Francisco in 1976, as a 17 year old juvenile delinquent, I wanted more than anything to be a San Franciscan. Over the years, as with so many other East Coast and Midwest transplants, I became just that: a San Franciscan. There were several crucial components (in my feverish, young mind at least) that were required for becoming a San Franciscan. One of them was to sport a truly cool brim. A Fedora also known as a snap-brim: a hat that some call the North Beach. I got a good one, and then a second. Eventually I had several.

Around 1979, I discovered a wonderful and soon to be rare type of establishment: an old fashioned hat shop. It was a fine place, a place where you could bring your beaten and soiled brim and have it rejuvenated and polished, cleaned and blocked, ready for another go at City life.

The place was Paul’s Hat Works at Geary and 25th Ave. There was a guy, Michael (Paul was a long gone and hadn’t been Paul anyway – he was Napolean) who would clean and block your hats.

If you had the dough, he would MAKE you as fine a hat as you could acquire ANYWHERE in the world.

Michael had had enough by 2009 and was to retire, planning to auction off the arcane, singular and irreplaceable hat making tools that Paul’s had housed for 90 years. You see, for some indecipherable reason, along about 1962 American men stopped wearing hats. Over the next 30 years, hundred’s of men’s hat shops and factories shut down. There was a surge in sales of cold, flu and pneumonia remedies and sunburn ointment as more and more men took ill due to unnecessary exposure to the elements. What morons.

Agent Smith in the rain, from The Matrix

A year and a half ago, Paul’s was saved from oblivion by four angels. In the eleventh hour Michael sold Paul’s to four women. Smart, attractive and talented women. Hat making women. This was a big deal. There are almost no real men’s hat making shops left anywhere in the world. There are certainly none run by four female beauties.

photo via Paul’s Hat Works

Comparisons to the four ladies of Sex and the City notwithstanding, these women are the real article. And they create beautiful finished hats that Charlotte, Samantha, Miranda and Carrie would definitely want their men to wear. Talented, lovely and well dressed, Abby, Kirsten, Olivia and Wendy turn heads wherever they go, together or separately. They refer to themselves as the 4 Pauls.

The ladies are poised to make Paul’s one of, if not THE premier hat shop(s) anywhere. They make real hats, the kind Bogie and F.D.R. wore. They’ll also clean and block your favorite old brim.

The next time you are in a rainstorm standing next to a brimless, sneezing, shivering, not too bright man, you will feel smart, warm, dry and well dressed if you are sporting a fine hat. Fifty years after they fell out of favor with the thick headed American male, hats are finally coming back.

I am SO excited……

photo by unknown

Surviving members of the San Francisco Suicide Club are hosting a memorial event for co-founder David T. Warren (AKA: R.J. Mololopozy, Irving Glikk, Flammo LeGrande, etc.,) from 2-7pm on Saturday January 2nd, 2010 at Playland-Not-At-The-Beach in El Cerrito, CA.

David Warren died in a East Bay hospital on January 2, 2009. This is the same day of the month, exactly 32 years after Dave, along with Adrienne Burk, Gary Warne and Nancy Prussia founded The San Francisco Suicide Club. The notion struck them after a terrifying adventure where they clung desperately to a heavy barricade chain atop the seawall under the Golden Gate Bridge at Fort Point as thirty foot waves crashed down on top of them. Later, over tea and pastries the four friends decided to start a club where they would encourage members to “live each day as though it were their last” by creating events and experiences that would challenge their deep personal fears, expand their knowledge and understanding of their world and those in it AND be hella fun.

Dave was a carnival magician and barker as a young man and retained a lifetime interest in the seedy world of carneys, amusement parks and sardonic magicians. In 1975, two years after the magical and (by the end) seedy amusement park Playland at the Beach was demolished Dave founded Playland Research Corporation. PRC was dedicated to collecting and archiving photos, film, personal interviews of and about the classic attraction out at Ocean Beach that served as a magnet for young and old alike.

His surviving collection was donated to Playland-Not-At-The-Beach a wonderful museum in El Cerritto curated by Richard Tuck.

In 1978, along with Chris De Monterrey, David restored and operated the Giant Camera Obscura below the Cliff House at Ocean Beach. This spectral attraction, one of fewer that half a dozen surviving in the world, was originally envisioned by Leonardo DaVinci and became a popular type of attraction at scenic tourist spots during the Victorian era.

photo by unknown

The Suicide Club morphed into The Cacophony Society in the mid 1980′s. Cacophony helped birth The Burning Man by taking the Baker Beach bonfire to the Black Rock Desert in 1990. David lighted the first man in the desert by blowing a 15′ flame onto it.

photo by J. A. Ellingson

We lost one of our very best. Tom Kennedy (1960-2009) drowned at Ocean Beach on Sunday, April 12th at 2PM. Tom was an artist, activist, teacher, prankster – a strong friend, bright spirit and true inspiration to each and every of the thousands of people he touched through his powerful and loving art and his huge and giving heart. I first met Tom at Burning Man 94 when he came out from Texas with his amazing art car “Ripper the Friendly Shark”, forever raising the bar at that event for creativity and originality in personal expression. I was dumbfounded by the whimsical nature, bold concept and execution of the piece. But more importantly, I was floored by Tom’s unmitigated joy at just being there, alive and creating the world around him.

photo by unknown

photo by J. A. Ellingson

photo by J. A. Ellingson

He went on, often in collaboration, sometimes alone, to create many of the most engaging and whimsical art cars you would find anywhere in the world. Tom was one of the kindest and sweetest men I have known. His big, muscular presence was that of a gentle giant, a protector and a gentleman. Tom’s sense of fairness and justice was as powerful as his creative urges. He was no push over, though. His work as an art provocateur and activist was tough, funny as hell and very “in-your-face” for those he saw as oppressors and forces of evil in the world. Greedy businessmen, slimy politicians and the like were the hapless targets of his art wrath. Along with his wonderful wife and partner Haideen Anderson and a cast of dozens in the political satire group Missile Dick Chicks, Tom stuck it to the high and mighty, often at personal risk. His courage and convictions were never in question. I saw him arrested in NYC for the 04 Republican Convention – an event that cost him greatly. This indignity only fired his passion to confront the injustices he saw and to mock and indict those responsible. Tom was generous, selfless and productive in ways that lesser men could only stand in awe of. He helped an untold number of aspiring artists with his powerful presence, practical fabrication knowledge and unique aesthetic. He did what the very best always do – he gave it away.

photo by M2

photo by Eddie Codel

photo by Barbara Traub

I spoke with Tom’s room mate Chris de Monterey and was told the basic facts regarding how this tragedy occurred. Tom and his friend Mike Tackaberry were in the surf about waist deep at Ocean Beach (stairway 24 – just south of the Cliff House) and were knocked over by large waves and swept out to sea by a very strong rip-tide. Both strong swimmers, they fought to swim back to shore. Mike turned back to help Tom he saw he needed assistance. He was able to bring Tom to the beach where he attempted CPR. EMT’s arrived and took over, eventually transporting Tom to a local hospital where he was pronounced dead.

Here’s Ben Cohen of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream giving a great endorsement of Tom.

A couple of videos of Tom Kennedy on Chuck Cirino’s Weird TV.

“Burning Man 2002 – Tom Kennedy takes a break from dismantling the Whale” — photo by Leo Nash

photo by Belinda

photos by Barbara Fried

photo by Jon Alloway

video by Caution Mike

photo by Jen Lum

photo by Ken Duffy

More Coverage:

- Daily Kos

- Time

- Los Angeles Times

- San Francisco Chronicle

- Houston Chronicle

- Chicken John

- San Francisco Bay Guardian

- San Francisco Chronicle

- San Francisco Examiner

See Previously: Topsy-Turvy Bus Tours US Questioning Budget Priorities

UPDATE 1: Tom’s website has been updated regrading his passing. Plans are being made for a memorials around the country.

UPDATE 2: There are two email addresses for all things related to remembering Tom and submitting stories, images and condolence notes, plus an email specially for helping with the celebrations of his life across the US.

Pat Kennedy, Tom’s mom, is collecting stories and pictures for a work of art she is making in Tom’s memory. If you have something you want to write, or have written, or an image or a condolence note you can email pictsandstories@tomkennedyart.com to help on this grand snapshot of the man , that so many have been enhanced by.

If you have anything else from ways you want to help and be part of the upcoming celebrations in Oakland, Portland, Minneapolis, Houston, or New York (or even elsewhere) email to everythingelse@tomkennedyart.com.

UPDATE 3: Here are some photos of the Tom Kennedy memorial in San Francisco.

Church of the Sub-Genius High Priest (REALLY high!) and KPFA radio personality Doug Wellman or “Puzzling Evidence” as he’s known of to cultists and the power elite, has been posting edited videos from his backlog of tens of thousands of hours of the weirdest and most ridiculous events to take place in the Bay Area and Beyond from the last 25 years.

Doug has been with Subgenius since the halcyon days of the early 80’s. Among his exploits in intensive voyeurism, surreal tourism and enigmatic conspiracies, Doug has, among other notable accomplishments, killed (allegedly) Subgenius Prophet Bob Dobbs, inspired David Byrne to write the song “Puzzling Evidence,” been accused of being a Oakland Police Intelligence officer by a crazed anarchist lawyer and survived a combat tour of Viet Nam as a naval officer.

Doug and his fellow Subgenius potentate Dr. Howlin Owl Robins have hosted the Puzzling Evidence Radio Show for twenty years. Joined by Subgenius co-founder Philo Drummond in recent years, this show is now (I believe) the longest running show on the venerable lefty station as well as being the most confusing and the least dogmatic.

Doug was at the 1st and 2nd How Berkeley Can You Be Parade “PETA (People Eatin’ Them Animals” float/performance and recorded the tense exchanges between the Meat People and protestors.

This event (staged three years in a row for the family friendly Berkeley parade) was comprised of various “meat providers” such as Steven King’s Carrie White, Texas Chainsaw Massacres Leatherface , Farmer Vincent from Motel Hell and others. Our very own anti-meat protestors the “Veget-Aryans” were there with bullhorns decrying the offense of edible flesh. Badly burned BBQ and fresh GPC cigarettes were tossed out to the throngs of aging Berkeley hippies and their tie-dye wearing progeny (“…here kid, first smokes free!”) My favorite part was when two 15 year old Berkeley High debutants poked at one of the massive pigheads and, in true bewilderment asked: “How did you make these things???”

Doug shot one of the last large group ascents of the Bay Bridge prior to Homeland Security making it almost impossible to climb bridges post 9-11.

Doug recorded some interesting moments at Burning Man during the apocalyptic 1996 event. Watch for the “official” radio call response to an unsanctioned “protest” of the burn!

Doug was there to record for posterity Dick Cheney’s final hurrah in San Francisco:

If you want to know what young officers recently graduated from their respective academies (Naval, West Point, set) were doing on the tax payers dime as the Viet Nam War wound down in the early 70′s look no further than here.

Some other winners are:

• Extra Action Marching Band at Pt. Arena’s 100th anniversary
• The band Abu Ghraib playing after the ’08 St. Stupid’s Parade
• Cyclecide at ace Auto

There’s tons of St. Stupid, Ask Dr. Hal, Extra Action and rare Subgenius edits from another time and another place…….

Check them all out on the Puzzling Evidence TV YouTube channel.

photo by Scott Beale

My friend Justin Fornal or Baron Ambrosia as he is known of to the gourmands and gangsters of The Bronx, NY is a walking breathing action figure. When he’s not filming sword battles by space alien pirates on the very top of the towers of some of NYC’s greatest bridge spans or saving damsels in distress, he is cruising The Bronx looking for the very best cuisines at the most obscure eateries. And DAMN he looks good doing it!

Justin’s show Bronx Flavor is unparalleled in my estimation as a uniquely entertaining and edifying video encyclopedia of fabulous food and culinary excess. He started it after becoming annoyed at Zagats foolish dismissal of The Bronx and Queens and their patchwork quilt of fabulous eateries. His TV Network, BronxNet has given him a free hand in creating the show and he really uses it. I’ve never seen anything like it.

The next time I’m in NYC, I’m bypassing Barolo Restaurant in Manhattan and The River Café in Brooklyn (like I would ever eat at a place that has $35 salads!) and heading straight for The Bronx and Deshi Bazaar on White Plains Rd, or maybe World of Taste Seafood & Deli for a killer Pho’.

photo via Bronx Flavor

Kal Spelletich is hosting a benefit at his warehouse this Friday night (January 9th) for Tim “Big Daddy” Anderson. Big Daddy was injured in a motorcycle accident recently, creating new injuries and exacerbating old. Cyclecide stalwart, old old school BRC-DPW, unparalleled DJ, all around gentle giant, gracious friend and SF underground fixture, Big Daddy is one of the people who make San Francisco a great place despite how hard it is to make a living here. Come out for some SEEMEN robotic performance fun, Paul the Plumber bike powered rides, performances by Moses & Spy & much much more.

As some of you might know, Big Daddy was involved in a motorcycle accident that left him w/ a dislocated knee and all 4 ligaments torn. He is unable to work and will be needing surgery in the near future. So we are throwing a benefit show for him this Friday, featuring interactive machines and robots from Kal Spelletich and the Seemen, pedal-powered amusement devices from Pauldaplumber and Cyclecide, RAT-TAC-TOE (tic tac toe w/ rats), with performances by The Amazing Jarico Reesce, and SPY & MOSES! There will also be refreshments and tamales as well as some secret surprises! For those of you who would like to help but can’t be there, a paypal acct. has been set up for donations: imilky@gmail.com

When: Friday, Jan. 9th, 8-12pm
Where: 1043 Marin st. SF, CA 94124

Space will be limited!
Dress warm!

photo by Rick Abruzzo

My friend Julia & I just bought a vacation home in Detroit. It’s a small but comfortable three-bedroom house in good condition that sits on a shorefront plot of land along the banks of an actual river. The location is serene, and the price was right — the whole thing cost less than a new Cadillac Escalade. A lot less, actually. But that was only part of the appeal. Just as important to us was the idea that Detroit is poised to become a laboratory for the latest social trend: The Greening of America.

Sure, Detroit may be the scariest place you can think of to live or even visit. Or is it? With the decline of the American auto industry, over seventy percent of the city’s populace fled to the burbs between 1966 and 1990. For those who remained, heroin and crack cocaine savaged the city’s neighborhoods. Yet when everyone else moved away, most of the thugs did too, leaving huge swaths of once-dense urban blocks very nearly depopulated — and quite a bit greener.

The nightmarish view of downtown Detroit and its suburbs is ancient history. The city is currently home to a strong (though small by coast-city standards) art scene. Wayne State University is becoming known for it’s cutting-edge gallery shows, while older artists have contributed much to Detroit’s exceptional public art installations. Detroit is also the epicenter of the Urban Adventure movement, with intrepid explorers coming from as far away as Europe and Australia to clandestinely explore the city’s beautifully decaying factories, mansions, hotels, mental hospitals, and skyscrapers.

Most of all, though, Detroit is already one of the greenest cities in America. I mean green as in green grass! Visit any typical residential block in the heart of Detroit, and what do you see? A handful of occupied houses and a few piles of rubble that once were homes, while the rest of the block has completely reverted back to nature. Rabbits, possum, raccoons, and the occasional deer ramble through this urban landscape as though they own it. We’ve gone canoeing along Detroit’s storied River Rouge canal, and we’ve climbed the abandoned, 37-story {REDACTED}* Building to get an up-close view of a peregrine falcon nest. Detroit’s public transportation system is no worse than that of most other American cities, and it’ll only improve as the renaissance continues. Also – oddly enough, the city has one of the newest and best freeway networks in the country – great biking and roller-skating lanes for when we run out of oil. Homeowners can plant gardens on their spacious lots or those next door as they like.

The price of owning anything in San Francisco, Brooklyn, L.A. or any other “prime” location became prohibitive, even surreal long ago. Even with the recent downturn in the housing market, it is still impossible for most artists, writers or craftsmen to buy in these places. Meanwhile, the industrial engine of the “Rust Belt” continues to freeze up, providing green spaces in cities like Detroit. At the same time, more people are able to work from literally anywhere in various Internet and computer related jobs. Being able to break away from the overcrowding and frenetic pace of life on the coast(s) for long periods and kick back in a relaxed tree shaded waterfront home that we actually own outright is a luxury that, I for one, after thirty years in Frisco never thought I would know. Detroit has plenty of water, green trees, wide-open land and no crucial military targets. Everyone world round thinks it’s a dump. There’s no place to go but up for this town. The icing on the cake is the simple fact that no one will ever waste a Nuke on Detroit.

Ghetto Ice Cream Truck driving through a Detroit neighborhood. [via Urlesque]

A similar article was published in Everywhere Magazine Issue 04.

photos by Julia Solis

Our friend Jack Davis passed away this weekend due to a heart attack. Jack, a major force in the San Francisco arts community, was the director of SomArts Cultural Center and did stage production for The San Francisco Blues Festival. Our deepest condolences go out to Jack’s family and friends. A memorial service is being planned for Sunday, November 18th at Somarts, from 2pm to sundown.

Lil Mike has a great write-up about Jack over over on Metroblogging San Francisco.

I wrote the following about Jack last year when he suffered a heart attack:

In any town, any scene, any time, you can count on the fingers of one hand the largely unheralded folks that facilitate almost everything thing of note that happens. They are there early on, giving quiet, confident encouragement – and, as importantly for starving artists, the occasional big break in event cost or maybe various services provided but somehow unbilled. These two or three princes never expect anything in return other than to watch the blossoming and growth of what they consider to be (and usually are) the most worthy enterprises. Other’s who “make things happen” the individuals, deserving or not who do get the lion’s share of the credit “you know who they are” they’re in the papers, on the radio, these folks know who those two or three are and always owe them a debt.

Jack Davis is one of those princes. At crucial points in the life of almost any significant Frisco art endeavor/scene/ organization (underground or established,) Jack has, in some capacity, small or gigantic, been pivotal in its life and growth. As Director of SomArts Gallery in SOMA for the last twenty years, one of the largest, best and most easily accessible art/event/party places in the City, Jack and his wonderful staff have given untold thousands of nascent artists, community groups and provocateurs their first big or pivotal show and a grand forum for promulgating their ideas and spirit in the local scene. Many of these individuals and organizations have moved on to national prominence. Following is a very small sampling of groups that benefited from Jacks involvement and/or support: The Neighborhood Arts Program (one of the founders) this group kicked off most of local Cultural Centers, Intersection for the Arts (past Director,) S.F. Mime Troupe (Board Member,) Burning Man (first big in-town events in the early 90’s were at SOMARTs for extremely low cost,) Day of the Dead, The Farm, Pickle Family Circus, Make a Circus, Dance Mission, Cellspace, S.F. Pride, Survival Research Labs (Jack held the cops off while Mark and crew got away!) The list goes on & on.

We are looking for more photos of Jack, if you have any please let us know in the comments.

UPDATE: A blog has been setup to chronicle memories of Jack Davis.

photo by Judy Davis

Harold Bachman, creator of the wonderful Doggie Diner dog head, passed away last Saturday in Santa Rosa at the age of 84. Harold designed the Doggie Diner icon in 1965 for the now-defunct Doggie Diner resturant chain. The 3 doggies, Manny, Moe & Jack, of the Holy Dogminican Order are really going to miss the man that brought them into this world. Zippy the Pinhead, who really loves the Doggies, must be a little sad now, as we all are. The dog heads have been featured in the Zippy comic strip for years, including once with a reference to Laughing Squid when we took the dog heads cross-country for our big show in NYC. It’s good to know that Harold’s creation will live on to make people smile and of course compel them to walk up and touch the nose!

I had the great good fortune to meet Harold Bachman thrice. The first time was a very brief greeting beneath the Dog Head at the Carousel restaurant at Ocean Beach. It was there I learned Mr. Bachman was the designer of the Doggie Diner visage we have all come to know: most to love, some to vaguely fear, all to undeniably recognize.

I met Mr. Bachman a second time a few years later at a ceremony honoring him and his industrial strength icon sponsored by the City of San Francisco. I had rolled out the three Dog Heads that I, through luck and some sort of bizarre divine decree have been appointed Steward for. I keep them on a trailer and roll them out for important occasions such as the annual St. Stupids Day parade or, perhaps a Polkacide (punk polka band) show.

We shot some pix of the creator leaning alongside the nose of Manny, or was it Moe or perhaps Jack? – anyway, one of the three. I had the opportunity to question him a bit about his feelings regarding his best-known creation. He seemed a bit perplexed, though entirely pleased by all the hoopla surrounding his long ago commercial art creation. The one thing that struck me most about this gentleman was, just that. He was a gentleman in the best old-fashioned sense of the word. He was gracious, charming (in a completely unassuming fashion) and modest. In age and demeanor he was a member of my fathers generation; the greatest generation…. survivors of The Great Depression, WWII, men taking care of business, no whining, support the family, get the job done & move on. He was bemused and perhaps a little confused by the interest of the various kooks (myself included) that had adopted his creation as a mascot of sorts. It’s such a grand thing that “serious” interests (mayors office, art commish, etc.) had taken note of his creation as well or perhaps he would have written off all the noise.

My impressions of Mr. Bachman were solidified when I and my cinematic partner Flecher Fleudujon drove up to Santa Rosa to interview Mr. Bachman for our feature documentary “Head Trip” a chronicle of an SF – NYC roadtrip with a bus load of Frisco freaks and the three Dog Heads in tow. We met Harold’s son Rick and heard some of the family stories. The familial regard and love for this octogenarian graphics artist was very strong and clear. We noted as we perused his stacks of commercial art portfolios that Harold, the ever doting dad used a gangly pre-teen Norman Rockwellish Rick and his sister as models for many of his cheery, professional art pieces, some advertising bread, some beer.

Also in the master commercial artists portfolio were great pieces from the 50′s, some just a wee bit risqué, advertising upcoming engagements by burlesque dancers such as “the immortal Tempest Storm” and “the lovely Lily St. Cyr.” Mr. Bachman got a little gleam in his eye while showing these pieces, but being the perfect gentleman had, with the exception of comments regarding their professionalism and artistic dignity, naught to say regarding these sirens from the past who had modeled for him.

It’s a testament to the still unique and magical essence of San Francisco that an artist such as Harold Bachman would be recognized for such break-out creative work. He considered himself a pro just doing his job. It is a true wonder informed by a little bit of cosmic justice that he was able to experience the genuine appreciation of a sincere (if just a bit goofy) public for one of his long ago unique creations.

If you haven’t seen em, go! If you have we know we’ll see you there. Last show is in San Francisco at The Great American Music Hall on May 10th!

Yard Dogs Road Show Daredevils of Vaudeville National Tour

Nail your hat to your head.
Hide the wine.
Keep an eye on the horizon.
We’re a comin’
That’s right it’s really happening:

25 shows in 35 days

Sounds like this:

Burlesque inspired, hair on fire, electrified
cartoonmusic played by a well dressed jug band in a
dark circus tent with a man swallowing swords and hobo
rambling poetry. Oh yeah, and did I mention the
dancing girls, dancing girls, dancing girls!

With dj Clay on that Big Bad Bus Of Love…..

Check out the website for tour dates.

Come join the fun!

Eddy Joe Cotton & The Yard Dogs Road Show

Polkacide, San Francisco’s infamous hardcore polka band, turns twenty this year. They’ll be celebrating this momentous anniversary on Saturday, March 5th at The Bottom of the Hill in San Francisco.

Polkacide is twenty years old! And we’re celebrating with our Big XX! Can it be 20 years ago that we came into being? Out of a deep seated human need to abandon ones troubles to loud music, wild dancing and copious amounts of good beer, a band was born, and that band was Polkacide.

Polkacide. 20 years. 20 million beers. Wow.

There are some things that should always exist. Often we take those things for granted and only later do we realize how foolish we were. I’ve polka-ed til I puked dozens of times over the last bakers dozen of years since I stumbled onto San Francisco’s (and America’s) greatest punk-polka band. I hope to stumble about dazed and bruised to the (not-so-dulcet) strains of this unique Frisco ensemble well into my 80′s. I hope I am that lucky. I hope that you are too. In the mean time, do not miss their astonishing 20th anniversary bash at the best dive in town, The Bottom of The Hill this Saturday night. Before walking in to the Bottom (or on your way stumbling out) don’t forget to rub the nose – for luck – of one of the three giant Polkacide mascots, The Doggie Diner DogHeads parked out front. Oh, and my little old Czech mom loves Polkacide too!

Doggie, hopes they play his favorite song, “Wiener Dog Polka”.

For many years San Francisco has been graced with the wit, insight, beautiful prose and lovely presence of Silke Tudor. Her ubiquitous and (for anyone curious about what is truly interesting in San Francisco) mandatory SF Weekly column Night Crawler debuted in 1994 and, with this weekly edition (August 18th-24th) will end an astonishing and magical ten-year run. Writing, particularly writing about a “scene” for a magazine or paper is often (at least partially) an exercise in self-promotion for the writer. The S.F. Weekly (along with The By Guardian and others weeklies that have come and gone) in addition to suggesting where to eat, dance, drink, hang out and blow things up has been a training ground of sorts and a stepping stone for ambitious young journalists and writers on their way to a shot at careers in Manhattan. Many of her colleagues and associates succumbed instantly to the tiniest of urgings and opportunities to immigrate with promises to write for the national periodicals (Spin, Salon, Rolling Stone etc.) or to write for “major” newspapers. Silke has proven to be the antithesis to this trend. She has turned down many solid offers over the years and chosen to stay here in SF and continue writing about our town & the truly special people and freaky serendipity that make this place what it is. Her writing style, already impressive when as an early 20′s punk-rock gofer at the Weekly she was recruited for the column, has evolved into a fine, subtle and polished prose that I am embarrassed to attempt to describe. Her obvious affection for the strange events and stranger people she has written about and the clearly deep love she holds for San Francisco in all its kooky glory is a palpable presence in her pieces and has became, over time, like a recurring character. As a journalist and writer Silke (in our opinion and that of many others) is the best San Francisco has ever had to offer. After this week, that’s it. San Francisco is a small town and there’s only so much to cover. The inexorable gravitational pull of New York has finally won out. I don’t think we’ll truly know how much we’ll miss Silke and Night Crawler until we’ve gone for several weeks without (once again) reading her wonderfully drawn, ever so personal accounts of the weirdest, stupidest, craziest, stickiest, most dangerous, sweetest, funniest, loudest and most inexplicable whateverthehellitis that we live with daily here in San Francisco. We’re really going to miss her.

photo by Jillian Northrup