It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I don’t care.
OK, so the world isn’t really going to end, but it sure seemed like it was at my friendly neighborhood Safeway tonight. The lines were ten deep and there wasn’t a jug of water nor a decent can of soup in the place. It was crazy. Looked a little like a supermarket in North Carolina when half an inch of snow is predicted.
Me, I was just excited to see that Safeway has started carrying Sylvia Queen of Soul Food canned beans and still had Frosted Mini-Wheats on sale. I have milk jugs and can store my own water just fine, thank you.
The SFPD (all of whom are working tomorrow) have commandeered a majority of the parking spaces within three blocks of my house. Shops in Union Square are boarding up their windows for the weekend. It’s getting a little creepy ’round these parts.
Yer humble host has arranged to be safely stowed on the eastern side of Potrero Hill watching the fireworks in a purely residential area which drunk idiots and terrorists will probably avoid. I’m leaving my car there for the weekend.
So I guess this will be the last journal entry of the 1990’s (or the 1900’s, or even the 1000’s, for that matter). Should I say something profound? Should I wax nostalgic about the last 100 years? Probably not. The older I get, the more sketchy I am about what really happened the Middle Ages. Must’ve been all those mushrooms.
I’ll just close by wishing everyone a happy new year and inviting you to visit a dramatically unchanged Planet SOMA tomorrow.