My old friend Dayala and her husband Danny made a date to go with us to the Womens March last Saturday in our Civic Center neighborhood. "We'll be downstairs at noon," she announced, and I replied, "You don't want to go sit and listen to boring-ass speeches for two hours, do you? Let's have lunch and then march instead."
"Well, if you put it that way..." she replied, and when we arrived at Civic Center Center plaza around 2:00 and heard the same strident speakers who always seem to be at San Francisco protest rallies preaching to the converted over bad sound systems, we felt like wise, seasoned protesters.
Like last year's inaugural marches, the homemade signage was witty, thoughtful and occasionally obscene...
...as befits a political moment when our Grab Them by the Pussy President resembles nothing so much as mentally unstable Roman emperors Nero or Caligula.
The last year under this regime has been one horrible, surrealist moment after another, and where it will end nobody knows.
One silver lining has been the political wakening and radicalization of so many people who would ordinarily prefer not to think about politics on a daily basis.
There is also a massive sea change right now for women's rights taking place that is starker and more powerful than anything I have seen over the last five decades...