“Who’s responsible for those articulate, aggressively funny, well-drawn and well-translated bilingual appeals to trash the pigs if not the previous generation of well-educated, perhaps dominantly white, invaders of the Mission who want to be the last ones allowed in?” I wasn’t that well-educated; I’d only been to SF State and I didn’t even have a B.A. “Please! Work out your authority issues with your parents…” An off-the-rack-on-sale-day-at-Macys canard. “…or come to terms with why you flunked out of college!” I didn’t flunk out, I dropped out when the Financial Aid bread ran out. “PS: Love the cartoons, but hey, if you think the petit bourgeoisie (restauranteurs and shop owners) are the enemy, you’ve completely lost sight of the big picture.” Here I’ll defer here to the perspectives of the anarcho-syndicalist waiter in Hemingway’s short story ‘The Capital of the World.’ I would have responded earlier, but as you may have guessed, I’m not that big into the internet, and besides, back in August I was getting owner-move-in-evicted from my Mission District home of ten years. Signed, the artist formerly known as Nestor Makhno.