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Goldies Extra: Luke Butler goes there

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By Matt Sussman

Take one look at Luke Butler’s “Leaders of Men” series, and the “walk softly, but carry a big stick” jokes would seem to write themselves. But Butler’s aim is less satirical. And while they humorously resonate with the recent eroticization of the body politic (think of those shirtless pics of Obama swimming or Putin fishing), Butler’s jarring juxtapositions are strangely generous, offering that most sheltered, scripted, and paranoid of creatures –the politician — the chance to literally let it all hang out, by providing the likes of Nixon and Ford with what Mother Nature never gave them.

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Luke Butler, Batman and Robin, collage, 2008

“It was no big deal to show Saddam Hussein being hung to death, but if his cock had popped out that would have been a real crisis,” Butler explains, expounding on our culture’s double standard towards depictions of violence versus male nudity. “It’s such an awful contradiction. My collages don’t solve this problem but run into it head on.”

That problem, at the larger level, would be the restrictions on what is permissible to show (erections, but then again, only metonymically) versus what must be hidden (real emotional vulnerability) that regulate normative displays of masculinity. Whether telegraphing a quivering, emotional inner life or proudly waving around their throbbing members, Butler’s leaders of men aren’t afraid to cry out with their cocks out. In a way, they are distant relations of Mike Kuchar’s paintings of gay heartthrobs, lovingly described by Eileen Myles as “pushing through fountains of testosterone.”

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Luke Butler, Encounter, acrylic on canvas, 2009

In one of Butler’s “Enterprise” canvases, Star Trek’s Captain Kirk lies supine, as a large, Yeti-like creature hovers above him. It’s safe to guess that within the context of the episode Kirk was in danger, and suspense came from whether or not he would rouse in time to save himself. And yet, in Butler’s canvas, what comes across is tenderness. Kirk’s facial expression and body language seem to anticipate a lover rather than a threat, echoing innumerable art historical precedents of Cupid approaching Psyche as she slumbers, or even depictions of the Annunciation. He is free to boldly go where no man has gone before.

Bonjour, “French Cinema Now”!

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By Jana Hsu

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The San Francisco Film Society’s French Cinema Now series screened Oct. 29-Nov. 4 in San Francisco.

Axelle Ropert’s The Wolberg Family poses all the existential fly flap of post-modern family life wrought with a full spectrum of visual vignettes surrounding the topic of irreconcilable differences between the all-too-assuming, brutish father Simon (Francois Damiens) and his newly menopausal spouse, Marianne (Valerie Benguigui).

The story unfolds in a rather well-put together way, without railing off into obscurity. Charming bohemian uncle Alexandre (Serge Bozon) lives in a small redwood cabin adjacent to the main house; he shares an endearing relationship with the couple’s two children, Benjamin (Valentin Vigourt) and Delphine (Leopoldine Serre). One arresting segment depicts a winsome game between Alexandre and Benjamin in the cabin: uncle and nephew race each other in a foot trounce of hopping alternating feet over the threshold of an open door. The elder figure, who serves as a near messianic shaman for the young impressionable lad, explains to the small boy that the line right outside the door represents the “real world,” and the one right inside is the “dream world” — causing the little boy to grow increasingly frantic at having to stop the hopping by choosing which world he’d rather land on.

Greener ‘gasms: 5 eco-friendly sex toys

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By Juliette Tang

The market for eco-friendly sex toys is growing, and in the past several years we’ve seen remarkable advances in the engineering of toys with ecology in mind. But while it’s relatively easy to create eco-friendlier dildos, cock rings, condoms, or lubes, designing and manufacturing eco-friendlier vibrating toys is much more difficult — as anything that vibrates is necessarily powered by some form of energy. The challenge is to create a toy that uses either the least amount of energy or the most sustainable type of energy possible, while still functioning just as well or better than a traditional battery-operated or plug-in alternative. Proudly, San Francisco is home to some of the hippest and youngest pioneers in the mechanics and design of innovative new sex toys.

Earlier this year, Bay Area engineering student Ani Niow created a steam-powered vibrator which, though perhaps not exactly eco-friendly, explored the mechanical possibilities of a different source of energy. Just this past week, we saw news of The Mean Green Fucking Machine, a water-powered toy designed by SFSU grad student Martin Cooper, who saw the design and market potential in creating a functional and aesthetically pleasing ‘fucking machine’ powered by alternative means.

Though Niow’s Steampunk Vibe and Cooper’s Mean Green Fucking Machine are both still in the most beta of beta stages, hopefully there will be many new developments in the alternative-energy-sex-toy sphere in the near future. And, kinky earthy types who want green vibes do have present options to choose from — all of which your humble blogger has, at the very least, seen firsthand.


Battery-free Earth Angel Wind-Up Vibrator

The Earth Angel is made of 100% recycled materials and is actually hand-cranked to power. There is a tiny dial that pops out of the bottom of the vibrator, which the user cranks for 4 minutes to store 30 minutes of vibrating potential. The vibe is not at all versatile in terms of speeds and settings, and it looks chunky, plastic, and kind of ugly, but of all the alternatives on this list, Earth Angel is hands down the most eco-friendly. The main drawback is the $95 price which, to be honest, would deter purchase by all except the most dedicated eco-warriors.


Sola Vibe, a solar-powered g-spot vibrator

This cute vibrator has 3 speeds and at full power lasts up to 2.5 hours (if you’re fine with having your vibrator sit on your windowsill to charge for 10 hours in direct sunlight). The design team had the foresight to create a g-spot vibrator, which adds to its versatility (can be used internally or externally). It’s $70, which makes it one of the least expensive eco-friendlier vibrators on the market. For emergencies when solar-charging is not an option, the vibrator also comes with a secondary wall-charger.

Street Threads: Look of the Day

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SFBG photog Ariel Soto scoops SF street fashion. See the previous Look of the Day here.

Today’s Look: Jacob, Grant and Union

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Tell us about your look: “I found this hat at a bar and I’m wearing my belt to the side because it’s too big.”

Jungle book: Monthly Rumpus gets all wild on us

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by Caitlin Donohue

It’s that time! Monthly Rumpus time! This coming Monday, The Rumpus, a go-to website for procrasting at work in a literate manner, is teaming up once again with Wholphin to bring us a big, author-y romp around. I just saw ‘Where The Wild Things’ are, so I know that ‘rumpus’ means jumping up on things and wrestling. Wear comfortable pants.

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Given a choice of wrestling partner at this month’s “Hate To Be Alone” rumpus, I would most certainly opt for young Chelsea Martin of Oakland, who has a new poetry tome out, Everything Was Fine Until Whatever (Future Tense). Martin’s poems veer from the touchingly personal (from her video entitled Let’s Get Deeply Moved: “I want to die quietly in my sleep in the back room at work with liquor bottles all around and concrete evidence I was trying to steal the fax machine,”) to philosophy (“I had a thought the other day. It wasn’t a thought actually, it was more like a burrito. I had a really good burrito.”)

10 terms to ban from erotica FOREVER

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By D. Scot Miller

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Reviewing sex for the Guardian is a blast! Straight up. I get to peruse pornografica for pay. How sweet is that? It’s my hope to begin exploring my sexual self for all the world to see! OK, that’s kind of scary too, but a good kind of scary. Throughout the gamut of emotions I plumb while “doing” sex in my own writerly way, the one I most despise is boredom Sex should never, never-ever, be boring. When the mind glazes over with ennui around good-ol’ ruttin’, it’s time to check-in; step up your game.

This is what I find in a lot of the erotica/porn writing I review. Nothing kills a moment like cliche’. And nothing says cliche’ better than tired/lazy language. A poorly placed piece of trite breaks the spell of seduction and turns the whole affair into just another pick-up line. But I’m here to help, I really am, and I ‘ve come up with 10 terms that writers should avoid at all costs when writing sex. Drumroll please:

A “sugar” binge that makes you purge

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By Juliette Tang

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Our post-Halloween, sugar-induced depression — that vague feeling of existential disgust brought on by too much candy — continues to rage on this hungover Monday. It arrives in the evil, saccharine form of Sugar Daddy Ken, the unfortunate new Ken doll via the lapidarists at Mattel.

According to Mattel, Sugar Daddy Ken (né “Sugar’s Daddy Ken”) is not the daddy of Sugar Chapeaux, the black Barbie, but of Sugar, the small white dog. And as Michelle Chidoni, spokeswoman for Mattel, told ABC most diplomatically, “At the end of the day, this collection is targeted toward adults. While the name of the doll does refer back to the dog, I think people are going to interpret it as they want to interpret it.”

The only consolation toward feminism is the obvious fact of SDK’s homosexuality. Crisp white pants paired with a bright green statement jacket themselves aren’t enough to imply a same-sex preference, but add to the mix a small toy dog named Sugar who cants about on a bright pink leash and you’re in the territory of grotesque, Bruno-style sexual stereotyping — which is par for the course when it comes to ever responsible Mattel.

Sadly, SDK missed his opportunity to be immortalized in SF’s Altered Babie Show, though of course there is always next year. If Mattel is unfazed by negative publicity and undeterred by the damage they will cause to fragile young psyches, SDK will be unleashed on stores in April of 2010.

And now, if you’re allergic to the gross reinforcement of outworn gender stereotypes, don’t read any further.

Sweet Tooth: Old school pie’s big-time comeback

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By Megan Gordon

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This week I’m going to make a bold statement: pie just may be the new cupcake. A friend recently got married in Nashville at an old, Southern plantation. They hung lanterns, had big communal tables with homemade barbeque, made their musical guests jam together as a wedding gift — and had pie instead of wedding cake. Of course, Julie’s wedding is no indicator of current trends. But in San Francisco, we do slices of old-fashioned pie showing up on restaurant menus across the city, not to mention the Bike Basket Pie lady.

So what’s the draw? Pie is certainly nothing new. And my favorite, banana cream pie, has been around for ages. One New York Times article traces the history of the beloved pie, citing an early example that appeared in a 1901 cookbook, calling for sliced bananas and powdered sugar plopped into a pie shell, baked and topped with whipped cream. And in 1951, banana cream pie was voted the favorite dessert of the U.S. Armed services.

Goldies Extra — Ty Segall works out the kinks

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By Kimberly Chun

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Ty Segall

It’s easy to imagine a battered and bruised zombie surfer hanging 10 to “Standing at the Station” off Ty Segall‘s Lemons, or the album’s shaking version of Captain Beefheart’s “Drop Out Boogie.” Picture drag racing along to Segall’s “In Your Car” and “Cents,” with the finish line at a fuzzed-out, frenzied Point Panic party. Deep-in-the-red ragers like “Johnny” take on hardcore’s crash-and-burn strategy — tearing around on the edges of distortion on just two wheels — while “Rusted Dust” strips it all down to Segall’s mournful falsetto and a single, evocatively ungainly electric guitar.

Lemons brought Segall together with the gloriously gritty Goner Records. “I actually just asked them if they wanted to put out my record,” he explains. “I didn’t think it was going to happen because I’ve been a huge fan for a long time. And they were, like, ‘Yeah!’

“I was super-psyched. I’m extremely lucky because they’re an amazing label.”


Ty Segall, “Lovely One”

It’s been a major evolution, going from Laguna Beach to Memphis. Segall first relocated North to attend USF, where he bonded with the rest of the Traditional Fools, bassist-vocalist Andrew Luttrell and guitarist-drummer-vocalist David Fox, who grew up in nearby coastal hamlets in Southern Orange County. “When we’re back at home, it’s like we’re all living in the same city,” Segall muses. The Trad Fools didn’t know each other very well back home, but together, in the Bay Area, they started hanging out and jamming and, in early 2006, morphed into a legendary party band.

Goldies Extra — Cary Cronenwett’s revolution now

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By Cheryl Eddy

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Still from Maggots and Men

“It was schoolboys sitting in the classroom, having daydreams,” Cary Cronenwett explains, describing Phineas Slipped, his 2003 debut as a director. “The classroom was in video, and the daydreams that the boys had were little Super 8 [films]. It was bullies, and bullies being bullied, and it was sexy and violent and stuff like that.”

Five years in the making — including time spent studying filmmaking at City College of San Francisco with director of photography Ilona Berger — Cronenwett’s follow-up effort Maggots and Men was first seen by Bay Area audiences as a short film (“sort of an overgrown trailer,” as Cronenwett calls it)


trailer for Maggots and Men

Maggots and Men | MySpace Video

“The structure of the film is kind of expandable and contractable. It’s broken up into discrete stories, or segments. More of those could be added, or taken away,” Cronenwett says. “I did the same thing with my first film: the idea was to get three quarters of the way through it, and then see what’s needed. I always wanted to lean towards the side of making it shorter and really dense. But I also thought, we’ll see how it works out and maybe it needs to become longer.”

Street Threads: Look of the Day

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SFBG photog Ariel Soto scoops SF street fashion. See the previous Look of the Day here.

Today’s Look: Irma, Washington Square Park

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Tell us about your look: This skirt is ’50s style and the top is from a thrift store. These shoes are Coach, but I got them from Crossroads.”

Dive In: It’s 20 to 11 o’clock somewhere

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Bar reviewer Kristen Haney seeks to separate hipster wannabes from real-life dives in this weekly column. Check out her last installment here.

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Almost hidden next to Bar Johnny’s, Cresta’s Twenty Two Eleven Club is a welcome dive in an area populated by lounges, wine bars and cafes. There’s no pretense, just kind-hearted bartenders, straightforward drinks and regulars who look like they’ve contributed to their fair share of empty alcohol bottles.

Cresta’s is the reason why the phrase “no frills” was invented. You basically have a choice of one of the few bar stools lined up across the narrow bar, or you can try and snag one of the two tables in the back. The décor is bare bones, and a solitary tiny T.V quietly flickers a broadcast of whatever local sports team happens to be playing. The clock, always set at 10:40 (in homage to the bar’s address and name), can be disconcerting if you don’t have your own timepiece.

On my visit, the amicable bartender, outfitted with a leg brace after a recent injury, thumped around the bar without letting it hinder her bartending or general demeanor.

Goldies Extra: Saviours’ Flying-V sign

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By Ben Richardson

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Saviours. Photo by Magda Wosinka

Scott Batiste of Saviours is in a unique position regarding the band’s transforming sound. Unusually for a drummer, he is also the band’s primary songwriter, hammering out riffs despite his limited chops with a pick. Though previous albums were crafted on a bass, this year’s Accelerated Living (Kemado) was written on guitar. “I got a shitty Flying-V copy and it just became my muse,” he says. “I was playing guitar so much, just unemployed, sitting at home and playing guitar all day. Everything just came out faster, and tougher.”


Saviours, “Livin’ in the Void”

Once the rough riffs are completed, guitarist Austin Barber takes over, acting as a sort of musical translator. The close understanding between the two is palpable in person, but bears its ripest fruit in the practice space. As Batiste admits, “A lot of the guitar playing I do isn’t really decipherable [to the rest of the band].”

Trash Lit: Wild times in ‘Rough Country’

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Editors note: Guardian Executive Editor Tim Redmond has a bad 30-year addiction to mystery/crime/thriller books. He’s decided that he might as well put this terrible habit to productive use by writing about these sometimes awful, sometimes entertaining and — on rare occasion — significant works of mass-market literature. Read his last installment here.

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Rough Country
John Sandford
(Putnam, 388 pages $26.95)

By Tim Redmond

Let us stipulate: It’s difficult for a male writer who specializes in straight male lead characters (and in this case, in a straight male lead character who spends a significant portion of his waking hours trying to get women into bed) to write a credible novel that centers around a lesbian resort. James Patterson, a white guy, has a wonderful black lead character named Alex Cross who works, perfectly, but that’s the exception; most people screw up when they try to reach like that.

And at the beginning of Rough Country, I had to wonder. I love John Sandford, but after the first chapter…well, you’ve got a straight girl getting hot watching lesbian lip-lock, you’ve got sordid lesbian drama that turns into a lesbian bar fight, you’ve got a weird business going on with really young men working at the women-only resort who may be on-the-side fuck-candy for bisexual girls (or may be underage hotties fucking older women for money)…and a little too much talk about “rug munchers.”

But by the middle of the book, it’s pretty clear that this is not just a great Sandford novel, but a wonderful portrayal of a fictional Northern Minnesota town where nobody gives a shit who fucks who. The owner of the resort is a respected local businessperson. The old straight guys who run bars and work as fishing guides treat the women just like any other (money-carrying) tourists. An old lady who’s part of a horticultural preservation group wonders aloud why anyone would care about another person’s sexuality, save for “a bunch of stuffy old men.”

Goldies Extra: Veronica De Jesus scores

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By Brandon Bussolini

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Veronica De Jesus, It’s a Battle, pen and marker on watercolor paper, 9″ x 12″, 2008

Sports and business figure heavily in the drawings of Veronica De Jesus. Her art doesn’t have the broad shoulders or spectacles of an ex-jock like Matthew Barney, but the biggest pieces in De Jesus’ recent solo show at Michael Rosenthal, “Do The Waive,” were of sports players, and smaller drawings incorporate hand-drawn, hurt-looking corporate logos. Awkwardly caught mid-evasion, the extra leg on the football player captured in Breadwinner is a happy accident that makes the drawing equal parts action shot and portrait. San Francisco artist Colter Jacobsen shares De Jesus’ attraction to drawing and memory, though the two have very distinct styles. When I ask him via e-mail what he takes away from his friend’s art, he replies that in De Jesus’s work, “there is really no erasure to a mark, even a mess-up, all the lines are additive.”

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Veronica De Jesus, Breadwinner, watercolor, ink, conte on paper, 72″ x 36″, 2008

Goldies Extra: D-Lo makes it hot…and wet

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By Garrett Caples

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D-Lo

“Once I heard myself on the song,” D’Angelo Porter says about his studio efforts one night two years ago, “I was like, ok, that’s me right there.” He was right: thanks to “No Hoe,” the man known as D-Lo soon found himself a full-blown celebrity in various ‘hoods.

“In Oakland, I might hear whispers,” he says, “like, ‘There go D-Lo.’ But out of town, like Fremont or Sac, they be chasin’ me down.” One excited fan, encountering him at a gas station in Pittsburg, asked him for a hug, only to promptly “pee on herself” after receiving it. This ghetto Beatlemania hasn’t gone to D-Lo’s head, however, but only inspired him to grind harder.

Thanks to “No Hoe”’s popularity, KMEL found itself getting tons of requests for a song they couldn’t play on the radio. “They was telling me it was too vulgar,” he recalls, “too much cussin’ and all that.”


D-Lo, “No Hoe”

Goldies Extra: Nol Simonse reaches for discovery

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By Rita Felciano

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Nol Simonse

For Nol Simonse, it all started with that most popular of all ballets and most common breeding place of American dance. The oldest of five children growing up in College Park, MD, Simonse had seen Baryshnikov in The Nutcracker on TV and “thought it awesome.” So he asked his parents whether he could do that. At age nine they enrolled him in a “tiny little ballet school above a pizza parlor. He’s still in touch with the teacher-owner.

Compulsory education was not exactly a good experience, particularly for a boy “who came out very early” and didn’t like to deal with linear logic: “As long as I could learn with a diorama, I was OK”. It took Simonse a while to find his own way of learning, through his body.


Nol Simonse, How Fortunate the Man With None

Janice Garrett, who had never seen Simonse dance, took a chance on him when she added male dancers to her heretofore all-female company for Ostinato in 2002. “He has worked out beautifully,” says Garrett. “What I admire is his ability to express what is deep inside. He has such humanity as both a person and a performer. In the studio, he is incredibly generous and brings his whole heart and mind to the creative process. He doesn’t need to be in control, and his sense of discovery is such that I can go wherever I want with him.”

The admiration is mutual. Simonse seems to be getting as much as giving in the artistic relationship, because Garrett manages to contextualize direction so it is not just technical but respects the dancer as a full person. “She told me once,” he remembers, “to push my lower ribs out, because being vulnerable doesn’t mean you are weak. She also once said that I had ‘emotional shoulders’.”

alt.sex.column: Return to Cougar Town

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By Andrea Nemerson. Email your questions to andrea@mail.altsexcolumn.com. Read more of Andrea’s columns here.

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Dear Readers:

I was going to write more this week about body size, body image, and sex, but I’m stupid sick, so here’s an older one ["Cougar Den," 10/22/08] about age instead. It’s all connected anyway. Don’t get the flu.

Love,

Andrea

Dear Andrea:

Fourteen years ago, when I was 26, I met my husband, who was then 58. We’ve stayed together through thick and thin and we love each other enormously. It has pained me over the past decade to realize that, even when the woman in question has her own accomplishments and is not a "bimbo," and even when the man in question is appealing and interesting (not a Donald Trump or a philandering cad) — still the nasty stereotypes abound. British comedian Graham Norton, for instance, refers to Catherine Zeta-Jones as "that gold-digging Welsh whore."

I find that otherwise thoughtful women I meet, acting on a mixture of feminism, anger, and what I infer to be unacknowledged personal pain or fear, seem too willing to continue such stereotypes, and I hesitate to open up to women I would otherwise think of as potential friends. I have hoped that as increasingly empowered women realize that they can date younger men if they choose, the rage over the double-standard and fear of abandonment and dwindling romantic options will begin to fade.

Oh, Girls: “Lust for Life” gets hardcore

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By Marke B.

We’re more than maybe just crazy here at the Guardian over Bay band — and breakthrough post-sexual heartthrobs — Girls. Well, they’re incredibly sad-funny-catchy single “Lust for Life” just got the hardcore video outtake treatment, penis microphones and Hunx cameos and all … Watch and revel in true San Francisco loveliness …

(via our friends at The Sword)

Girls will be cramming out Bottom of the Hill on Nov. 21.

Armenian lullabies class ‘orors’ into Oakland

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By Caitlin Donohue

Apparently, perusing the “Lullabies of Armenia” Wikipedia entry did not leave me skilled in that particular musical school. No matter how many times I explained that oror means “rock,” to my boyfriend (making repeating the word crucial to any decent sleep-inducing ditty done in grand Armenian style), he was still loath to let me whisper it in his ear ad infinitum. Oror oror oror oror…

There is no accounting for taste. I am willing to allow, however, that there may have been an issue with my tone. Which is exactly why I need Hasmik Harutyunyan’s Armenian lullaby class, which will be held Saturday in Oakland as an opener to an evening of music as soothing as a mother’s womb.

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“When I sing, my dreams take wing,” says Harutyunyan of her haunting melodies

Her performances, reinvigorations of the rich Armenian tradition of lullaby, have taken her all over the world. Harutyunyan has staged concerts with Yo Yo Ma and more recently, Kitka, a Bay Area women’s vocal ensemble who will play a concert after her attempts at teaching us mere mortals the skills we need to lull our partners to sleep after long days of Bay Area rat race.

In Armenia, the songs people sing to soothe their children to sleep speak volumes of their life during the day. They’re narratives, expressions of daily goals and traditional folklore. I am told that one well known theme is that of giving one’s child over to suckle at the teat of a mother deer, which I have no grounds for understanding but trust that the message has something to do with earth and nurture.

The recorded versions of the songs are simple and rich affairs with soft accompaniment by wind instruments or strings, whose strums pack even more vibration into the undulating, soaring tones of the singer. Packaged in an language unknown to most of us, this is the perfect slide into dream world.

“I learn what I can, and I remember when I sing.” Harutyunyan seems to have a grasp of one of humankind’s elemental needs; comfort. Good on us, Bay Area, that she’s giving us a chance to share in what she’s learned.

Armenian Lullabies Workshop
Sat/7, 4 p.m. (Kitka concert to follow at 8 p.m.), $15-$25
St. Vartan’s Armenian Apostolic Church
650 Spruce, Oakland
(510) 444-0323 www.kitka.org

Street Threads: Look of the Day

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SFBG photog Ariel Soto scoops SF street fashion. See the previous Look of the Day here.

Today’s Look: Paula, 18th Street and Mission

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Tell us about your look: “It’s a clash of two cultures: Spain and rock! I just got back from a trip to Spain.”

Street Art Comes Up: Mission Muralismo at the de Young

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By Caitlin Donohue

So I’m sitting there chatting with some old school San Francisco anti-gentrification activists on the back patio of a Bernal Heights café and we’re excitedly leafing through a coffee table book. Wha-wha-whaat? Yes I know, anachronistic isn’t it?

This is the book (and please memorize the jpeg below because if you buy a “San Francisco” book this month/year/ever, it needs to be this one):

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Great blue heads of people’s art, coming soon to a coffee table near you

This is Mission Muralismo, a book edited by Annice Jacoby. Its got hundreds of pages of big, glossy photos of all the best of Mission street art sprinkled with thoughtful essays. Its contributors include Mission barrio luminaries like R.Crumb, Shepard Fairey, las Mujeres Muralistas, Neckface and Rigo.

Where does one purchase said volume, you ask? Well I just happen to know that the DeYoung is seizing upon the book’s release to kick off a yearlong program of events hooting and hollering about Mission neighborhood creativity (“a rising star on the global art map” says the museum. But then, they also say the dress code for the event is “Mission festive,” so I mean, whatever).

Our endorsements for the Nov. 3 election

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CITY ATTORNEY
Dennis Herrera

TREASURER
Jose Cisneros

CONGRESS, 10th DISTRICT
John Garamendi

PROP A: YES

PROP B: YES

PROP C: NO

PROP D: NO

PROP E: YES

View our entire endorsement arguments here

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