Tuesday, March 13, 2012

It's "Dogpatch". Just "Dogpatch".

The authors of "The Dogpatch Howler" seem to think their neighborhood is called "the Dogpatch". No, folks, it's called "Dogpatch". Just "Dogpatch". As in Li'l Abner's Dogpatch. Is that so hard to figure out?

Look, for your sake a whole population of people living in cars and RVs and trucks and tents was kicked out of one of the last San Francisco places where you could still feel a little breath of continuity with the Gold Rush. I wasted long hours during seven or eight years of my life attempting in vain to defend their right to live there, and we all lost. Just so youall could shop for artisan batards and handmade ice cream and five-minute espresso shots at Third and 20th and pretend you're not quietly looking out for the resale value of your absurdly obscenely expensive new condos, without worrying about scary-looking neighbors or their scary-looking dogs. The de-dogging of Dogpatch was an especially sad business: decent-hearted dogs unnecessarily put down because of who their owners were. All to make the neighborhood safe for the "Howler".

And, yeah, while I'm at it, our own district's Supervisor, Jane Kim, at least recently thought South of Market was called "the SoMa". It's called South of Market. South of the Slot. In a pinch, SoMa. Not "the" anything.

[Further, afternoon of 3/14/12: J&I walked down to Dogpatch and spent a nice afternoon being part of the problem. Bought some gluten-free groceries. Admired some of the changes in the neighborhood (not all). Got glared at by a rough-edged guy who was walking into the corner store on 22nd. I'm sure he knew in his heart that people like us are perfect examples of the problem. More later -- I'll post a separate item with some pictures.]

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