Bite the Hand that Bores You

Today is a glorious day. It’s 85 degrees - in the city! - and the Republican plan to close 50 state parks (but save no money doing so) was defeated. Oh, and we’ve peeled back another layer of bigotry: we’re finally allowing that fags are people too.

We therefore conclude that in view of the substance and significance of the fundamental constitutional right to form a family relationship, the California Constitution properly must be interpreted to guarantee this basic civil right to all Californians,whether gay or heterosexual, and to same-sex couples as well as to opposite-sex couples.
. . .

Under these circumstances, we cannot find that retention of the traditional definition of marriage constitutes a compelling state interest. Accordingly, we conclude that to the extent the current California statutory provisions limit marriage to opposite-sex couples, these statutes are unconstitutional.

(California Supreme Court case S147999)

Tomorrow may see me weeping, but today I am granting myself the luxury of believing that my fellow citizens are essentially decent people and that there will be no state-wide effort, encouraged from the national level as a divisive issue in the election, to modify the Constitution via California’s direct plebescite*. No one would actually intentionally add bigotry to the constitution, right? Right?

* Democracy is the belief that the common people know what they want and deserve to get it good and hard. - H L Mencken

I tried Philz new blend today - “The Ride of the Four Horsemen”. I probably should have taken that as a hint.

I sure am glad that I spilled a third or so of it on the way to the train, because I probably would have been vibrating quickly enough to slip between the molecules of the seat if I’d had an entire cup.

Around the corner from me is an antique clock repair shop. It contains, as one would expect, a panoply of tiks and toks, piles of gears, a well-stroked shop cat who is far too clever to get his tail caught in any of the exposed mechanisms, and a greying gentleman with glasses who works at a desk covered in brass clutter. Behind the desk stands a set of clock hands–the spare set from Stanford’s clock tower. The minute hand is about seven feet tall.

I’ve been there before, just trainspotting with the owner and the other fine gentlemen of the neighborhood who stop by to discuss the important matters of the day, month, and previous decades. Old agreements and disagreements with well-worn edges are brought up, polished once or twice, and put away, against the constant backdrop of soft clicks and swinging pendulums.

Today I stopped by to ask the owner about my new watch – an 18-ruby all-mechanical Raketa from the former Soviet union. It had finally settled down to a consistent speed – I’d been wearing it to let the lubrication distribute – and I wanted to ask him about getting it adjusted.

I wasn’t expecting much. No one shops the CCCP looking for fine mechanical equipment. But I hoped I could get it to reasonably accurate. It was, after all, a consistent 2 1/2 minutes fast.

“Five . . . that used to be the standard,” he said, pulling the watch away from his ear. I waited. “Modern movements use six beats to the second. Made in an old factory, then, if it’s new. . . elliptical gear has some oil frozen on it, that’ll have to be cleaned, if it can be. Hear it?” I could, once he had pointed it out; what I had taken to be a regular tik-tik-tik-tik-tik was clearly now periodically louder; tik-tik-TIK-tik-tik.

He told me several other details about how the watch was working, without touching it again, and gave me the name of someone who would fix it all.

I left happy, even though I now had a not-small price tag for making my watch run correctly. The presence of skilled artisans in San Francisco is always reassuring to me, somehow.

There’s a pterodactyl hatching in a nest on Panoramic highway, just outside of Stinson Beach.

He’s the cutest little bugger.

Photos of Chicken John filing his candidacy for Mayor of San Francisco.

Remember, A Vote for Chicken is a Vote For Crossing The Road to a Future of Arts and Innovation.

Taken by tangentman at the Laughing Squid anniversary party, Paradise Lost. Favorite tag: ‘stellar tie‘. I’m the only one there so far (thanks for the tie, Kurt), but let’s hope that the list grows. ‘Nice Getup‘ has some folks I’m proud to be listed with.