by Amanda Witherell

I just returned from ten days on an idyllic island in downeast Maine. For the seaside hamlet from whence I hail, it's local custom to leave your car keys in the ignition so you don't lose them and your front door unlocked, or even wide open, so the cat can come and go while you're at work. After a few days of openly worrying about my friends' unlocked bicycles, I settled back into the local population and the comfortable human trust they maintain, where everyone is innocent until proven guilty.

Welcome back to San Francisco, where a Honda Pilot is the new street weapon of choice and the annual murder rate is climbing to fresh heights. Scan the daily headlines and it's easy to believe the streets are not safe and no one is watching your back. Again and again I hear people say San Francisco isn't like other cities. It's small for a metropolis and each neighborhood is like its own little town taking care of its own, clustered among dozens of others on a peninsula that acts more like an island.

Well, if that's true, then in the Guardian's hood, all hail the New Portrero Market. A couple days ago I ventured up the hill to buy a bottle of water and inadvertently let $60 fall out of my wallet. I'm not really in the financial position to be so cavalier with money and I was dismayed by the loss. I figured it was payback for my preadolescent penchant for the five finger discount, and let it go. Who the hell tries to track down the owner of sixty bucks?

But I was thinking about it today on my lunchbreak and stuck my head into the market, just to see if maybe there's an honest soul out there...

Well hell yeah! There are two. As I made my meek inquiry, Marwan punched the "No Sale" button on the register and immediately handed me my wandering Jacksons. Mike, who I'd been chatting with while I wasn't paying attention to my wallet, had found them after I left the market, and Marwan had tucked them under the drawer for safekeeping should I ever return for another bottle of water. I'll be certain to now. Hooray for the small town neighborhoods we still have in this city!

By Sarah Phelan
Like a mole emerging from a hole, bespectacled freelance journalist Josh Wolf squinted into the September sunlight, as he stood on the steps outside the U.S. Court of Appeals 9th Circuit building on Seventh Street in San Francisco. It was the 24-year-old’s first taste of freedom after a month-long stint inside Dublin Federal Correctional Institute for refusing to give a federal grand jury video outtakes of an anarchist protest turned violent.
During his stretch at Dublin, Wolf was only able to breathe fresh air for an hour each day, and he looked as if was relishing the feeling of the sun on his skin, as he voiced his belief that what should have been a SFPD investigation into an assault on an officer, turned into a federal witch hunt, which so far has involved the FBI, the Joint Taskforce on Terrorism, a grand jury—and the thousands of tax payers’ dollars to prosecute and jail him.
As Wolf, who’d traded prison dudes for black jeans, blue shirt and white sneakers, began to speak, jackhammers went off across the the road, as if some evil mastermind was making a last ditch effort to censor the truth. The crowd of camera wielding, microphone-holding paparazzi pressed closer, as Wolf expressed his hope that the 9th Circuit’s decision to grant him bail was a positive sign. (A month earlier, District Court Judge Alsup denied Wolf bail, calling his case “a slamdunk for the federal government.”)
“The late Senator Paul Wellstone once said that significant social change comes from the bottom up,” said Wolf, who hopes his case will ultimately help cement the rights of the independent, as well as those of the traditional, media. Expressing concern that the federal shield laws that are currently on the table “do not encompass people who meet my criteria,” Wolf critiqued the proposed laws for only protecting those who are employed by or under contract with an established media outlet.
‘There should be a common law to protect journalists,” he said, voicing the belief that anyone who is involved in gathering and disseminating news and information is a journalist, whether they are paid for their activities or not.
“I am a journalist, I have a website, I’ve sold footage, including to MichaelMoore.com,” said Wolf, who worries that proposed federal reporter shield laws will create two classes of journalists, those that report and get paid, and those that do it out of volition. “It will create a corporatocracy in which only corporations are media,” he said. “It goes against the idea of a free and independent press.”
He also critiqued what he saw as an increasing abuse of grand juries, which were established to protect the rights of those accused, but increasingly appear to resemble military tribunals and are used so the feds to secretly coerce and investigate targets.
“There is no means that any extended stay in jail is going to bring about a coercive effect,” said Wolf, who believes the case of former New York Times journalist Judith Miller, as well as those of the two BALCO reporters from the San Francisco Chronicle who still face jail time, helped publicize his plight, as well as the blogosphere.
‘It’s egregious that the feds took up an investigation into an assault in a SFPD office,’ said Wolf, who believes that the alleged arson to a SFPD car was used as a hook, simply because SFPD receives federal funds.
“In my tape you hear someone yell, 'Officer Down!' That’s the extent of it,” said Wolf, in reply to the question of what interest the feds could possibly have in his clips on the cutting room floor.”
“I don’t want my case to be a reason why people don’t get involved in grassroots journalism,” he said,a cknowledging that his case shows there are risks, “An individual can decide what’s important and truly change thw world we live in,” he said, comparing that freedom to the restrictions imposed on journalists who work for corporate media.”
To help freelancers, Wolf would like to see more information out there on what independent journalists should do if they are subpoenaed. “Know your rights and how to protect them,” he advised.
By the way, when was the last time that an assault on a SFPD triggered a federal investigation, involving the FBI, the JTTF, a grand jury and a reporter doing jail time?

By Kimberly Chun

It's trippy but true: if you feel nostalgic for snow in the middle - or well, the tail end - of summer, you should head up to Lassen Volcanic National Park, north of Sacramento and chock-full of geothermal drama like boiling rivers, gurgling mudpots, and jagged rock formations. When I headed up with my veteran camping pal D, the campgrounds were relatively unpopulated; purple, yellow, and pink wildflowers were abundant; and dang, but wasn't there an amazing amount of snow and ice on the ground - still dirty and frozen and seeded with pine needles at 7,000 feet. And ready to be fashioned into summer snow poodles (with thumbs, to boot).


Frolick in the snow in late August. It's possible at certain altitudes, dudes.

So I was stumbling to work today when a horrible sight stopped me dead in my tracks, made me drop my purse, and burst me into tears. SOMEONE had painted over the Positive Visibility/Women Fight HIV and Invisibility mural at Haight and Scott.

By Scribe
I returned from Burning Man a week ago today, one of the nearly 40,000 souls reentering the real world from the one that we call "home." There are more of us than ever given that the population of Black Rock City jumped more than 10 percent this year to by far it's largest level yet, with the Bay Area still the main source of BRC citizens. The event is growing fast, and at a time when there is increasing concern about global warming and other environmental problems associated with unsustainable consumption of resources. So I was pleased to see founder Larry Harvey and his board announce next year's theme -- Green Man -- just as this year's event was wrapping up. The idea is to better connect the isolated event with the larger world, to increase awareness of our impacts on the environment, and to start offsetting that impact with tree planting and other year-round projects. It's a natural step in the evolution of an event that began on Baker Beach in 1986, but one that needed to be deliberately taken, a challenging move than will test whether Burning Man is ready to return from the desert and project its values outward.

By Tim Redmond

My mom and dad never wanted me to play Little League baseball, and they were very clear about the reasons: They didn't want to deal with the other parents. Me, I'm glad my kids are in a local soccer league. I'm the team dad for the Pumas (Go Pumas!); we have a great coach and great kids and parents, we don't keep score at the games, and nobody takes it too seriously as long as the kids are having fun. The main job of the team dad is to make sure there's an adequate snack for halftime at every game. My main job as a parent is to try to make sure that Michael, who likes to play goalie, is actually paying attention when the ball comes near him, instead of searching for bugs in the grass.

But apparently it's getting ugly out there, even in microscoccer, where all the kids are under 8.

I realize that parents have been known to go completely crazy on the fields of play, but I've never seen it in San Francisco. So when I showed up for a mandatory parents meeting for all microsoccer kids -- attend or your kid can't play -- last Sunday afternoon, I wasn't prepared for what was coming. A league official gave us a handout that set the tone:

"Reasons for this meeting:

Six assault charges in two years
Parents yelling and screaming from the sidelines
Coaches making up their own rules
Dads walking onto fields and taking whistles from moms
Coaches fighting over practice fields
Parents walking onto the field during hte middle of the game to videotape their child
Hired coaches (!?) not knowing any of the league rules"

and on and on.

It offered us this training scenario, which actually happened last season:

"A parent from the other team doesn't like the way you are refereeing a game. She has been complaining bitterly about your calls, challenging your authority. She has become increasingly exasperated. You hear a whistle. Play has stopped and now you know why. The woman upset with your calls has gotten a whistle, called a ball out of bounds and is now walking onto the field, picking up the ball and about to award the ball to her team when one of your parents confronts her and yanks the ball away from her. The sideline "ref" responds by hitting your parent. What do you do?"

All of these problems -- all of them -- came from parents with kids under 7 years old.

Somebody needs to take a chill pill.

PS: "Dads walking onto the field and taking whistles from moms?" How exactly does that work?

By Tim Redmond

When I was in college, my friend Dave formed a group called Rastifarians for an Inherited Papacy. (Think about it -- Pope. Kids. Sex. Female heirs. As we said back then, Whoa ...) That pretty much reflected my views on the institution of the Papacy.

Even the good nuns and priests at my Catholic middle school couldn't convince me of the Pope thing; I've never been much for humans who claim to hear the exclusive word of God. I had plenty of problems with JPII.

But this is different. We don't just have a Pope who's kind of a wanker; we have a really BAD Pope. A bad man, a consumate asshole, a real evil presence as the head of 1 billion religious souls. Holy shit.

By Tim Redmond

leave it to Wonkette to demonstrate why the terrorists who were going to blow up a plane with carry-on liquids were pretty bogus threats. At least one expert points out that it's almost impossible to mix a bomb out of ordinary materials in an aircraft loo.

By Steven T. Jones
Ace photographer and all around good guy Luke Thomas -- who had a nasty falling out with his business partner at the San Francisco Sentinel, Pat Murphy (I'll have more details on that for y'all very soon) -- today debuted his new website, Fog City Journal, which has the look and feel of the old site, but with a bit more journalistic integrity. Meanwhile, Pat's site (recently returned from being down during his battle with Luke) looks like a shadow of its former self, running business community press releases and leading with a gratuitious breast shot from LoveFest. It reminds me of what some tavern owner friends of mine used to say, that the mark of a dying bar is when it starts holding wet T-shirt contests. But there's no reason to dwell on the negative. Welcome to the fray, Luke.

By Andrew Tolve
For a politician who often projects himself as environmentally conscious, Mayor Gavin Newsom dealt his reputation a blow Thursday when he missed his keynote address at West Coast Green, the largest residential green building conference in the country. Mayoral spokesperson Peter Ragone told us Newsom had planned to speak Saturday and did. But the fact that he missed the slot printed in the schedule chafed more than a few in the audience.
Nearly 7,000 architects, contractors, developers, and policy makers have arrived in San Francisco for the weekend conference (Sept. 28-30), many of whom were left searching for answers on Thursday when the event’s inaugural speech at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium was left unspoken.
It turned out Mayor Newsom was just a few blocks away, celebrating the opening of San Francisco’s new Bloomingdale’s instead.
“I have to say that we are all full of contradictions, and we would not be here today unless we were,” said Jim Chace, director of PG&E’s Pacific Energy Center. Despite Chace’s commendable record with environmental issues, the fact that a PG&E representative was making the announcement only heightened the irony of the moment. “I promised I wouldn’t take any shots (at the Mayor), but this should not be so easy,” Chace continued. “The fact is that there’s a contradiction here, and contradictions are just a sign in our lives that it is time to look at change.”
The Mayor’s absence aside, embracing change is the fixture of this year’s West Coast Green Conference. Presentations about the feasibility and the implementation of green building techniques will continue Friday and Saturday at the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium. Saturday the event is open to the public.
“Clearly there’s nothing more powerful than an idea whose time has come,” said Christi Graham, the event’s founder and executive producer. “I do think that we might look back one day and recognize the impact of our gathering here.”

By Tim Redmond
I showed up Thursday morning of the Clear Channel studios on Townsend Street to appear on KQKE's morning talk show, Keepin' it Real with WIll and Willie, featuring comedian Will Durst and former Mayor Willie Brown, and the producer met me at the door with some sad news: The show had been cancelled, summarily. Two more days on the air. As of Monday morning, the Will and Willie show would be gone.

I'm told the show had a decent (if not stellar) listener base, and was making money. But not enough money -- the way Clear Channel sees things, it's entirely about the bottom line. So the locally produced show that actually took on local issues will be replaced with The Stephanie Miller Show, a syndicated program out of L.A. I'm sure the show is great, and funny and everything else that a lot of Air American programming is -- but it's not about San Francisco. It's not local.

Once upon a time -- and it wasn't really all that long ago -- local radio stations had at least some responsibility to cover local news and issues. Now the Quake, like the rest of the local Clear Channel line up, will have no real local anything, except traffic.

I never thought I'd say this, but we'll miss you, Willie Brown.