Good Morning

Monday 5:35am: I’m rolling the Fillmore strip up in well-to-do Pac Heights. And I cruise by the usual suspects; cops, affluent retirees – with their Golden Retrievers, and mansion contractors – in their glowing orange vests, all procuring caffeine at

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Mr. Sweetness

There is a cab. “Cha-ching! – 5033 17th Street. Mr. Sweetness.” There is a passenger. With a strong Snagglepuss sing-song lisp, the highly manicured old school Citizen’s Cab regular, Mr. Sweetness, settles in the back of ‘ol 137. There is

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