Mark Morford's beautiful love letter to San Francisco, May 9, 2003:
The Great San Francisco Bubble:
Life in America's last great progressive cocoon, as conservatives snicker and pule
. . .
Let's face it: We in S.F. live in a cultural bubble. A giant tofu-huggin' gay-lovin' lusciously fed hippie liberal sunshine-y cocoon that might as well get blasted by terrorists and die of AIDS and drop off into the ocean for all the relevance it has to the rest of the world -- that is, if my rabid monosyllabic gun-lickin' hate mail from, say, the psychopatriot Freeps over at freerepublic.com or the bilious dittoheads of lucianne.com is to be believed.
. . .
We are a danger to the status quo, a nipple-twisted threat to the "nukular" family, a pantheistic whip on the ass of the Bible Belt, a pox on the house that oil built. Or at least we try to be. Sometimes. Depends on how much Peet's we've imbibed.
. . .
Maybe S.F. is an entirely pointless, disposable, disease-ravaged wasteland full of perverts and icky gay people and used-up liberalism and way too many amazing organic-produce markets and yoga studios and wine shops and fetishwear outlets and Pulitzer Prize winners and a coastline to nourish your soul.
. . .
Seems millions still want to live here. Go figure. Something about the weather. And the dazzling beauty. And the tolerance. The intellectual buzz. The mind-set. The great food and juicy sexuality and progressive politics and funky architecture and the wide-open encouragement to be as independently minded and screamingly divinely naked as you can possibly be. But hey, only if you want to.
. . .
Hey, we know it's a bubble. Most of us love the bubble, are exceedingly proud of the bubble, kneel at its gloriously flawed but still radiant altar. Anti-progressives want to burst that bubble? Have at it, honey. Go on and burst it -- all over the rest of the country. C'mon, you know you want to.
. . .
Much, much,
much more to enjoy:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2003/05/09/notes050903.DTL&hw=morford&sn=310&sc=906Come, paint daisies on your cheeks and return to the Summer of Love -- which, here, has never ended. And we're more than willing to share. Come be a part of the "pantheistic whip on the ass of the Bible Belt." :)