This is the whole article in the SF Weekly from Sept 20, 2006.


This is just the part about us.

Among the cluster of people of all ages on Hippie Hill who call themselves and each other "kids," there's one honest-to-God child, on a blanket with his young mother and two men. He looks to be 5 or 6 years old, a redhead in jeans and grungy sneakers, eating a cheeseburger. He plays with a small tree branch, tussles with one of the dogs, and accidentally knocks over a bottle of beer. Although the bottle has a cap on it, the two men act angry. Then they pretend to beat the boy up. With a scream, one guy mimes a punch to the child's stomach that stops just short. The other grabs the branch and mimics cracking it over the child's head. The boy rolls over onto his stomach, and one of the men jumps onto his back, pretending to pummel him on the sides.

The noises coming from the child don't sound like laughter. When the guy gets up and the child rolls over, the little one is scared and crying. He flings his arms around the neck of his pretend attacker. "Hey, what?" says the man, apparently surprised. "You're OK. You're fine!"

Ha! Young Mother. That's me. His Pretend Attacker. That's his dad.

We went to the park the day they had the opera there. I remember the incident but I remember it a bit differently.
What really happened was Jr had a Thomas Kemperer root beer, the kind in the brown glass bottle. He spilled that on the blanket and started crying over that. That is when Jr Sr and E started to pretend beat him up. He would have been crying anyway.

I bought black masking tape with white skull and cross bones and I am putting it all around my room, like wainscotting. I already have the door and the wall on that side of the room done, but I need to move some stuff to do the rest of it. I need a day off.
I will put in for some vacation tomorrow.