The Mating Rituals at Santacon

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The Sex Lives of Santa

My third rain-drenched shift in a row begins on Saturday with the news of widespread power outages, disrupted BART service and, of course, the usual apocalyptic bridge traffic. Worst of all, though:
It’s Santacon.

What began in 1974 as a Situationist-inspired attack on capitalist greed by a Danish theater collective, then introduced to San Francisco in the same spirit 20 years later by a couple of pranksters from the Cacophony Society, Santacon has since devolved into a directionless pub-crawl — just another reason for Marina bros, and the women who love them, to get wasted publicly in broad daylight. While clad in festive holiday outfits, naturally.

As I get ready for work, I hope the intermittent downpours wash away the vomit and shame by 5 p.m., when I begin my journey to the National Yard …

Read the rest of the column on the S.F. Examiner site.

[photo via]

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