There’s only one thing in the Tenderloin that I dislike more than the smell of piss/puke/armpit and it’s the smell of churchy people feeling good about themselves for coming to distribute free food on Sundays. Dear good samaritans, have you noticed that no beggar ever asks you for Jesus instead of freebies? Instead, they’ll typically ask for things like these. So next time, come better prepared. Or better yet, don’t come.

Even in the streets of the Tenderloin there are stold purses and naturally, spelling nazis. Obviously, these two mix like double negatives and no respect for other people’s tragedies…

Seen on Leavenworth between Eddy and Turk

Saw this lovely, “coke makes me horny” bit near the Little Saigon gates on Larkin. Could easily make for a great series of “what makes you horny?” if one felt like taking up the call, or not. I’m possibly leaning towards not.

This latest posting at our neighborhood tire shop, is fresh from E.M. Forster. Why? Because they can, that’s why.

Since it seems that we’re always showing these sign changes, we thought we might as well create a proper category for them because… well, because.

Saw this on a messenger’s bike outside the courthouse the other day and I have to admit that it was gave me a mild chuckle. I blame South Park for my new-found bad taste. By the way, is there a secondary “Messenger Door” at the courthouse? I’ve had to go down there far too much lately and I know that I have to go through the X-ray machine all the time. I have no idea how these guys and girls with all their metallic accoutrements breeze through there so easily with documents to deliver.

Much like the cross-trained abilities of a monkey washing a cat, it appears that here in the Loin, at 628 O’Farrell, the technology for VCR-assisted computer repair has indeed come to life. The best part is that it’s a steal at $29.95 and you can even pick up dim sum next door while you wait for the VCR to work its magic on your computer. All hail this brilliant leap forward by Mullenix Video.

One of the most enjoyable things in walking around the Loin is the multitude of signs that pop up all over the place and beg to have a picture taken of them, like the one above. If memory serves, this was somewhere down on Taylor. And yes, that is a kitty climbing tower in the lower right. Apparently kitty is neither a gambler or a fancy woman. What in the hell is a “fancy woman” by the way? The first thing that comes to mind are the tranny hookers at Sutter & Larkin, but I’m guessing that’s not what this is all about, although I’ve never been to New Orleans, so I know nuthin’ about local customs there…

Yeah, you thought it was going to be “Johnny’s Tranny Shack” or “Empire Massage and Donuts”, but no, this has to be the best name for a store that we’ve seen. Obviously, we’re always up for suggestions.

For those living on select blocks of the Loin, you might have noticed new signs having popped up as of late to promote, “Living in the The Ten” and the 409 historic buildings in 33 blocks that comprise the Loin as the poster has decided. They seem to be there for the purposes of promoting this site and trying to create a new name for the Loin with “The Ten”. I think not. It’s the Loin or Tenderloin if you want to be proper about it. The Ten is just dumb and there’s no reason to replace a name that works so well with so many things: Civic Center & Tenderloin: Tender Center, Tenderloin & Nob Hill: TenderNob, Tenderloin & Union Square: Tender Square, Tenderloin & Art Academy: TenderTurds. Of course the list goes on and there’s no reason to try and pork “The Ten” in there. I feel like it’s being forced upon us just so that the dude behind these posters (who is also apparently behind the museum) can then copyright it and sell t-shirts, hats, and all the hey hey using this name. Whereas, with “the loin” no one can own that as it refers to a cut of meat and that’s solid… and tasty.

I have to admit something in that below my cool, hip, sleek in-the-know, urban, synonym-using blogger exterior, there lies the real me, the one that looks at signs and thinks, “Damn, that’s obscure, I just don’t get it.” Naturally, once I realize that I’m this uncool, I have to run home and inhale caramels and chocolate while crying myself in to a fitful nap under my security blanket. This is all a long-winded way of asking, “Yes, I know who Freddie Mercury was, but what the hell is this current Kahn & Keville sign about?” There would be a reward for anyone who knew if I actually had anything to give away.