or On the Perils of Living in California: item #23

So I was reading Derek Powazek’s Ten Tips on How To Be A Driver in San Francisco, and while I agree with what he says for the most part^*, there was something to which I simply had to take exception:

1. Bikes are our friends.
   I love how San Francisco has gotten so bike-friendly over the last few years. There are a lot more bikes on the road now than there used to be, and I think it’s rad. So be a good driver. Really look around for bikes. Note where the bike lanes are (they’re not always where you think they are). Stop when a bike is approaching. Smile and wave to let them know that you’ve seen them. You’ll often get a smile in return. That kind of brief moment of pleasantness can fill my sails all day.

OK, not to put too fine a point on it, but are you fucking kidding me?! Bicyclists in San Francisco are a scourge upon the face of the earth. The vast majority of them are rude, share the amusing misconception that they are indestructible, and in general display a troubling lack of regard for the safety of those they share the road with, to say nothing of their own. They can’t just be people who need to ride a bike to get from point A to point B because it’s convenient and inexpensive, like in most other cities. Oh, no. Not here in San Francisco. Because you can’t do anything here without turning it into a political statement.

And nowhere, nowhere, are bikers worse than in the neighborhood I used to live and still visit often: the Mission. These fedora-wearing hipsters on their idiotic single-gear bikes put the rest of the SF bike maniacs to shame. Let me tell you a little story. Now imagine the scene, if you will:

I parked my car for the day just past the corner of Valencia and a mid-block side street, and I’m just getting ready to leave so I can head home. An enterprising driver has noticed I’m leaving and is waiting behind me so he can pull in as soon as I leave. I put my car into reverse and start backing up, looking in the rear view mirror to make sure I don’t accidentally hit the guy behind me, and that’s when a biker decides it’s a great time to squeeze between my still-reversing car and the car parked just a few feet behind.

Seriously?! I mean, think about it for a second. Who’s going to win that contest? The…foolhardy…biker, or the two two-ton steel vehicles she’s sandwiched between, where the gap is narrowing? She’s—grrr…flames…heaving!

And don’t even get me started on the SF coalition of bicycle lunatics who shut down Market Street at regular intervals so that they can, with a fricking police escort, alienate and enrage beyond reason the drivers of San Francisco. Jesus.

Well, one thing is quite clear. Derek Powazek is a much nicer person than I am. Also: rad?

• Silver Borne by Patricia Briggs – 5 stars

  Briggs’ Mercy Thompson series remains excellent, and this 5th book has all of what makes the series great: dead-on pacing, intricate (though never confusing) plotting, and effortless character development. If you’ve never read these books, I don’t know what you’re waiting for.

• Cast in Silence and Cast in Chaos by Michelle Sagara – both 5 stars

  These are the 5th and 6th installments in Sagara’s Chronicles of Elantra series, which along with the Mercy Thompson series is one of my favorites. Sagara’s skill at world-building is among the best in the fantasy genre, and she effortlessly melds lyrical high fantasy with fast-paced adventure. Each book in this series has raised the stakes, and by the end of Cast in Chaos, the tension has risen to fever pitch—a reckoning is coming, and I can’t decide if I want it to come sooner, so I can find out what happens, or later, so that the end of the series remains far off. Great, great stuff.

One of my pet peeves is the bastardization of music for the purposes of crass commercialism. Specifically, using music whose sound invokes a certain mood that its lyrics don’t match—often times actively oppose—in TV commercials.

One example is the use of Nick Drake’s Pink Moon—a song many believe was either Drake’s suicide note to the world, or at the least a song about death—in a VW Cabrio commercial about driving on a summer night.

The latest affront is the LL Bean backpack sale commercial that features the Harry McClintock recording of Big Rock Candy Mountain which was on the O Brother, Where Art Thou? sound track. This song is about a hobo’s idea of utopia, not about recapturing some kind of lost feeling by going camping with your family:

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
You never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol
Come trickling down the rocks

You’d think the people putting together these ads would actually listen to the music they choose before they put it in an ad that gets seen by millions on national television, but that bit of good sense is evidently too far-fetched. &_&