Hell in a Handbasket

It would appear as if every place in the United Snakes of America (Well, every city, who gives a shit about the places?) is pretty much going to hell. We are informed that many of the local bars in Baghdad by the Bay (not as amusing a nickname these days, sorry Herb Caen) are being closed by greedy landlords (redundant, we know). Just Another Blog™ has never been much of a barfly (There're filled w/ people, f'r gawd's sake, & the music is usually too loud & too sucky, & the booze is over-priced, so why not hang at home or the home of a friend?) but as a native San Franciscan, one's memories of that little boutique city by the bay really shouldn't be messed w/. For example, our male parental unit used to hang at this place:

Not so at the nearby House of Shields, says ex-patron Sam Singer. "Everybody used to come there," said the local public relations man, "judges and lawyers, guys just indicted or about to be convicted. We'd say, 'Meet you at the House.' "Then the bar changed hands five years ago. The bartenders left, as did regulars like Singer, who missed seeing the familiar old faces behind the bar. The defections snowballed. "I still pass there and look in the windows longingly," he said. "But yesterday's gone."

Used to p. mater o. when Pops would hang there after work, before taking the SP home down the Peninsula. And that was almost 50 yrs. past. (NB: Pater was a civil engineer, neither a criminal nor a lawyer. Wanted to make that clear.) Nicest thing about the SF bars of our youth were the neon martini glasses that many of them had on their signage. Sadly, technical difficulties prevent our supplying a photo thereof.