Barking Mad

On every single street corner in San Francisco there’s a well groomed dog (blow-dried, Versace collar, organic doggie biscuits) and a bedraggled homeless dude (one moon boot, old shopping trolley, howling at the moon).  Both are a blight on the city, not least because they shit everywhere.

San Francisco LOVES dogs and the smaller and more absurd, the better – yesterday, my ankles were snuffled by a pooch that was half Yorkshire terrier, half pink leg warmer.  As an 'Up Yours!' to the neo-Cons who want Intelligent Design taught in American schools, that’s pretty special – God did NOT design this dog…not unless he’d been out disco-ing with Freddie Mercury the night before. 

There’re dogs in my street, my office and my bar, getting in the way, slobbering my hands, eating my food…

”America is like a large friendly dog in a very small room.  Every time it wags its tail, it knocks over a chair”

...said Arnold Toynbee once.  Give that man a bone.

San Francisco also LOVES homeless people.  At least I assume they must, or else they’d have provided them with homes by now.  Turfed out of mental hospitals under the Regan administration, the city is awash with unwashed vagabonds. They’re not especially threatening, but do seem considerably more bonkers than the average London tramp.  You’ve got Imaginary-Traffic-Cop-Tramp, Fly-Like-A-Bird-Tramp and Singing-In-The-Rain-Dancing-Tramp (although I suspect this last one might be linked to the San Francisco School Of Performing Arts - his griminess is too perfect).  Best of all is Ironic-Tramp who runs around screaming 'YOU USELESS CRAZY BUMS!' at all the other tramps.  Give that man a home.

Comments

[Taurus]

It's my ambition to live like a tramp. Maybe I'll need to move to SF.