Thursday night Doris and I made it out to the Mission District and came upon a delegation of bored cops. They apparently were babysitting a formally dressed delegation of international mayors attending an environmental conference in town, while they dined at Foreign Cinema. I will not comment on all the stretch limos and expensive food somehow being at odds with the conference, because we just kept walking and crossed the street to attend an infrequent, roaming party known as Rock N Shop.

Doris works with one of the organizers, who finds a suitably sized club, gets some bands together and has a small number of arts & crafts people come out to sell their wares. The last one we attended, I felt I should have brought the kids along, as everyone else seemed to. Later I learned why, the opening band that night, Slot Machine, was made up of grade school kids. They sounded good. Not all of the bands do.

The music is decidedly loud-electric-guitar-centric, although the Everlasting Arms’ bass guitarist and the Nagg’s female lead singer were the notable performers Thursday night. There is always lots of fun stuff to buy; knitted hats, metal belt buckles, ornate baked goods, jewelry and shoes. I typically stick to buying the beer, but Doris is not above getting something. It is also nice to have some reference point as to what might be a good club to visit. God knows I do not have time figure it out anymore, and I have ended up at too many "Foreign Cinema" scenes to want to try.

This month’s venue, The 12 Galaxies, is a good case in point. A nice sized, roomy downstairs with bar and stage, plus a balcony ringed upstairs to allow viewing from above. A beer and cocktail was $9.50, plus the $14 to get us both in. One could not really talk while the bands were playing, but I did notice a familiar man in a dark blue polyester suit walking around with a sign of odd words.

Then I remembered reading about The 12 Galaxies when it opened and how it got its name from Frank Chiu, the man with the sign. He has been around for some time, ranting about how the presidents are from another galaxy and generally repress his civil rights (he says he learned this via ESP from prison guards that were really KGB.) I used to see him walking the streets of the financial district during the 90’s calling for Clinton’s impeachment (ahead of the curve there) and other less sane rants. It turns out the owners decided to use his now well recognized (at least in SF) brand and gave him a job. He even took a turn on the mic. that night, with some signature, unintelligible verse. I imagine he might have been talking about the mayors across the street, believing them to be from another Galaxy and trying to take advantage of him and others like him. Sadly, I think they may not bee from another Galaxy.