Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Brown tide rising
Ew.
TALKING FUNNY BECAUSE I'M HOLDING MY NOSE, RANCHO SANTA FE — At about 2:30 this morning, a ruptured sewer main sent a great mass of human waste spilling into the streets of this super-wealthy enclave. Residents, long convinced that their shit didn't stink, were forced to reckon with the grim reality of their situation.
Many RSFers seemed prepared to simply bar their gates and retreat to their wine cellars until the crisis had passed. But longtime busybody Wilhelmina Brackthwaite took the opportunity to garner support for the cleanup effort already underway. Standing up through the sunroof of her white Cadillac Escalade limousine, Ms. Brawckthwaite shouted through a megaphone at the surrounding mansions:
"Hear me, Rancho Santa Fe! Apparently, these undesirable elements have been moving through tunnels below our feet for some time, expressly to keep out of sight. But it seems that the pressures they brought on our already strained infrastructure were just too great. Something had to give, and something did. Now this great, heaving overflow — which we here in our excellent community have been able to avoid dealing with for so long — can no longer be ignored. The Brown Tide is upon us. It's in our streets, and we cannot simply wait for nature and time and the government to take it away. There is just too much of it. We must act, or else be overwhelmed. It may, for a time, seem like an impossible task: a neverending stream from the southerly regions. But we dare not fail. This kind of regulation is one of the first hallmarks of a civilized society. Our entire way of life may be at stake. Rally, fellow citizens! Take back our streets! Reclaim our neighborhood! Send these foul, invasive masses back where they came from!"
As of press time, Ms. Brackthwaite had received no response, except perhaps for a bemused shrug from Oscar Jiminez, a groundskeeper at the Rancho Santa Fe golf course.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Brown tide rising
Brown tide rising
Ew.
TALKING FUNNY BECAUSE I'M HOLDING MY NOSE, RANCHO SANTA FE — At about 2:30 this morning, a ruptured sewer main sent a great mass of human waste spilling into the streets of this super-wealthy enclave. Residents, long convinced that their shit didn't stink, were forced to reckon with the grim reality of their situation.
Many RSFers seemed prepared to simply bar their gates and retreat to their wine cellars until the crisis had passed. But longtime busybody Wilhelmina Brackthwaite took the opportunity to garner support for the cleanup effort already underway. Standing up through the sunroof of her white Cadillac Escalade limousine, Ms. Brawckthwaite shouted through a megaphone at the surrounding mansions:
"Hear me, Rancho Santa Fe! Apparently, these undesirable elements have been moving through tunnels below our feet for some time, expressly to keep out of sight. But it seems that the pressures they brought on our already strained infrastructure were just too great. Something had to give, and something did. Now this great, heaving overflow — which we here in our excellent community have been able to avoid dealing with for so long — can no longer be ignored. The Brown Tide is upon us. It's in our streets, and we cannot simply wait for nature and time and the government to take it away. There is just too much of it. We must act, or else be overwhelmed. It may, for a time, seem like an impossible task: a neverending stream from the southerly regions. But we dare not fail. This kind of regulation is one of the first hallmarks of a civilized society. Our entire way of life may be at stake. Rally, fellow citizens! Take back our streets! Reclaim our neighborhood! Send these foul, invasive masses back where they came from!"
As of press time, Ms. Brackthwaite had received no response, except perhaps for a bemused shrug from Oscar Jiminez, a groundskeeper at the Rancho Santa Fe golf course.
Comments