Entertainment


Thursday High noon: I’m rolling Citizen’s Cab 1015 west up Market, approaching San Francisco’s Westfield Mall – flush at this hour with international tourists and suburbanites of means. Hey. What is that?…




Did you ever notice the striking similarities between a magic circle and a UFO? I recently picked up a copy of Tom DeLonge & Peter Levenda’s non-fiction book, “Gods, Man, & War…



From Modern Mythology: Folk horror is having a Renaissance, as the novelty cycle revisits the seventies at two iterations’ remove & the SF community starts again to seriously analyze the dialogue between…


The political pairing of Messrs. Donald Trump and Alex Jones recently scored a write up by their shared nemesis, the Gray Lady herself, the New York Times. Clearly a Times-reader, Stephen Colbert used…


I’m traversing the streets, en route to the Citizen’s Cab lot to pick up my taxi, out on the industrial edge of town. And there is torrential rain, downed trees and flooding… BAD!


It’s noon, and a little cold out. But with clear beautiful skies above San Francisco. We’ve got a respite from the torrential rains, before they’re set to start again early in the week.


As presented to you passengers on my last report, it’s a new year for your driver, with a new taxi. (Sorta.)


It’s a new year. And Citizen’s Cab #26 is no more. Her medallion holder jumped ship over to DeSoto. And the mechanics magically transformed Citizen’s Cab #26, my trusty ‘ol Prius, into Citizen’s Cab #1015.


Twas the Monday before Christmas, not just any given morn, with Citizen’s Cab 26 cruising a San Francisco left forlorn.


You see, since Jesus retired, Tony’s been pulling double-duty in also writing the schedule. And every year around this time, there’s been a dance I’ve had to do with management.


Thursday Rain, fog and drizzle fill the predawn San Francisco streets… and the mind of one driver rolling Citizen’s Cab #26. I’ve been empty for an hour and a half now, as…


The air is chilly on this early, quiet San Francisco morn. The seasonal cold wet blast which creeps annually down from the north has officially arrived.


A San Francisco cabbie has to make the decision whether to get up butt ass early to gamble on some prodigal son heading to the airport trying to make it home to L.A. in time for the festivities, or sleep in.