The other day, I received a notification in the mail about some new cellphone antennas being proposed for installation at 1010 Bush Street by AT&T. If your ass is properly trained for a long sit and you want to see a good show, head to the First Congregational Church at 1300 Polk on November 2 at 7PM. Every nut (with no offense to our beloved “nutjob” commenter) will crawl out from from every conceivable rock to speak up against this and delay the installation, which I might add will most likely happen anyways because people want a mobile network that actually works.

And so, after dusting up on NIMBY classifications, my rant begins. What gives, SF? Cellphone reception, and specifically data reception here is probably the shittiest I’ve ever encountered. Driving through Central Oregon where my phone would say Edge, I would still get speeds that rivaled the “3G” I have here. And don’t even get me started on Portland, New Orleans, and NYC which I’ve been to in the last year to realize what 3G actually is and let me tell you, it’s awesome. Oh, and for the record I’ve been a subscriber to AT&T, T-Mobile, and briefly used Verizon. They all suck here. Dropped calls are standard and data speeds are like trying to download porn in 1996.

Yeah, yeah I know, “Cellphone signals give you cancer!” I’ve seen arguments back and forth on this and honestly, at this point, cellphones are the least of my worries in shortening my life because I have news for you: we will all indeed die eventually. We should be a great deal more worried about the jet fuel exhaust being slathered through the immediate atmosphere by air traffic from SFO and OAK. Or, how about all the car exhaust from idling commuters because we fought having proper elevated expressways across San Francisco and made Van Ness a “highway”?

Nah, it’s obvious that it’s the cellphone signals we need to loose sleep over. People believe it to be imperative to stop San Francisco, this supposedly amazing hub of 21st century technology, from having decent connectivity. Just another sign that while convinced otherwise, we’re a First World city insisting on approaching life in a Third World way. I call this living in the Fourth World. I’ll wrap this up before I get hurled over my handlebars by a pothole and a PG&E transformer explodes.