Yes, your intrepid reporter braved the anarchist/ socialist enclave of San Francisco, widely known as ‘Baghdad by the Bay’. Known as a ‘wasteland’, ‘worse than the third world’ and ‘not America anymore’, the city I once lived in is now a ‘slum’, ‘trash can’, and ‘failed city’ that has surrendered to crime, drugs, crime, homelessness and crime. There’s a famous prison on a rock in the middle of the bay, which some brave people visit by boat at night. Just a 175 years ago, the port city was known as the Barbary Coast, from which sailors were served spiked drinks and Shanghai’d into service.
Fortunately, I was able to secure a hotel on Union Square guarded by a barista, a bell hop, a concierge and a front desk agent. Just over 100 years ago, the nearby Maiden Lane was known for open prostitution! Today, large cable cars careened downhill towards Market, filled with a wide variety of strange people many speaking in midwestern accents or even foreign languages and taking pictures. There are weird shops with cartoonishly large figures staring down at the street.
Hungry and tired from my fraughted exploration, I met my children for lunch. They were born here and as adults now are hardened to the bizarre foreign restaurants that stole the place of Applebees or Cracker Barrel. I recognized a few from the old days, like the Tonga Room with its tiki bar and floating stage for musicians, and I’ve heard even the Empress in Chinatown has reopened, likely a den of iniquity with admittedly fabulous views. But we traveled all the way across town to Dalida in the Presidio, once a Spanish fort. Now the buildings have odd names, like Disney or Lucas, and there was a statue of an alien, Yoda, who I believe was declared illegal and hunted into exile by his government. The ethnically ambiguous waitress explained that the food was Mediterranean, which I assume to be much less healthy than chicken fried steak with gravy. Despite my misgivings and better judgement, I tried some of everything and nothing was left over.
Perhaps with a death wish, I walked on Market Street and took the Muni underground to Powell Street, where the poor city workers have to turn the cable cars around by hand, due to lack of modern technology I suppose. Somewhat surprisingly, I noticed that the stations were much cleaner than I remember, and the trains were very new, prompt and safe, with little gizmos that close the gaps to the platforms. Seeing almost no homeless people, I can only imagine that the city was giving away taxpayer dollars to them for aromatherapy elsewhere.
Rumors were that Macy’s was doomed, so I was determined to take a photo of the shuttered department store on Black Friday. Somehow, there were people there, laughing and playing, with kids and shopping bags, taking photos of their own with grandparents and cousins visiting from afar. There were colored lights and singing. Hot chocolate and people dancing. Why it was busy?!? Almost, positively, festive! But the economy is gone, how could Christmas still be coming?
Peace on Earth, goodwill to men. — Luke 2:14
It came without ribbons, it came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
…. Maybe Christmas (he thought) doesn’t come from a store.
Maybe Christmas perhaps means a little bit more.
—Dr Seuss from How the Grinch Stole Christmas
Have I been lied to by my Fox friends? If so, what else could they be lying about? Is everything a lie? Oh, maybe my nephew and niece at Thanksgiving were right all along. Has the Grand Old Party spent so much time lying and corrupting the system that it has been taken over by the biggest and most corrupt liar in history? Oh, how foolish I have been. Please forgive me.
