This morning, the Chronicle, SFAppeal, SFist and your friend who doesn’t even live in San Francisco all reported that ING has pulled out of their Bay to Breakers sponsorship. The reasons for halting the bankroll? Well, it’s all unofficial rumors, but apparently, “ING is fed up with all the bad publicity that the race has generated in recent years, especially the complaints of residents around the Panhandle and Alamo Square about revelers and runners urinating, defecating and generally behaving rudely.” [Emphasis mine, duh.]
OK, I don’t know of any reports of people defecating (except for maybe that piece of shit KKKatie left outside the porta-johns), but I don’t think I should have to remind anyone that Bay to Breakers has been going on in some form or another for 99 years. So even the smuggiest Victorian-restoring, fart-sniffer (Just kidding! No one in San Francisco likes the smell of restored Victorians!) must have known about the yearly power washing they were going to have to do when they moved in. Also, I’d like to point out there are multiple old-folks homes (technical term) within a block of the course on the other side of the hill in Hayes Valley, and you don’t hear any of them complaining. Or maybe they’re deaf. That’s also a possibility.
Now, I don’t mean to be dismissive of the concerns of my neighbors because, in fact, at least one person successfully put their penis in between the bars of the front gate to my building and that sucked. On the other hand, I think there’s another group we can all agree to hate on, and I don’t even mean hipsters! (The already problematic “hipster” label, gets even tougher to nail down when the #1 costume is “American Apparel Dumpster Dive Chic”) No, I’m talking about the floats. While I’m all for creativity in the form of a temporary vehicle, the majority of the floats I saw this year were little more than an invitation for one’s ladyfriends to dress up in grass skirts and lifeguard uniforms. These mediocre excuses to drag a PA system and thousands of jello shots through the city were generally led by guys in flip-flops hailing from Santa Clara, which explains why they had absolutely no problem pissing (and pooping, apparently?) all over the place.
So what am I getting at here? Mostly that San Francisco needs to start having a sense of humor about itself again. I was under the impression that we all live here because it affords us a certain freedom to act like total nutjobs every now and then. As much as I think Burning Man is kind of annoying, those whackos at least attempt to maintain a sense of community around their temporary nihilism. Maybe the rest of us could learn a thing or two from their ability to be their own ideal weirdo for a little while without infringing on a neighbor’s right to not have to deal with your bullshit.
Also, everyone stop peeing on people’s stoops. Geez.
[original photo via: SFCitizen]