SFist Reprint

A weekly tribute to the only haze thicker than the Marina's, the one you wake up with in your head on Saturday morning. By your local barrespondent, Drew.

There must be a mathematical formula to answer the eternal question, "How empty is too empty for a bar?". We're no algebrists (sic), but square footage and amount of light have to be in that formula somewhere we would think. After all, a dark, small empty bar is the greatest thing ever, whereas a large over-lit bingo hall-looking place that's completely devoid of people is depressing at best (and a bingo hall at worst). I suppose we'll let the egg-heads at CalTech figure out the exact formula, and in the meantime continue to do our own brand of 'research'.

Yancy's on Judah in the Inner Sunset (Thanks to the earlier reader who pointed out our seemingly unshakable habit of mixing up the Sunset and the Richmond despite having lived in both. Not to worry, a few more months of electro-shock therapy and we'll be fine) seems to consistently get the above mentioned formula barely wrong. The first time we went there was 9 or 10 years ago, and at that time it was packed to the walls with reggae-lovin' USF students. Now if there's one thing we are, besides usually over the legal limit, it's forgiving and more than willing to give a place another shot. Well this time Yancey's was a ghost town. 9PM on a Saturday night and you almost couldn't concentrate on your cocktail for the sounds of crickets. Decent drinks, a friendly enough staff and 'festive' holiday decorations couldn't make up for the fact that we felt like we had walked into Sears an hour before opening.

It's a shame really. I've always thought Yancy's was a great space, had a fair amount of wood and more history than most other pubs in the neighborhood. Maybe I've just never been there on a good night, maybe no night is a good night, or maybe they just forgot to carry the 1.

Liver... Out!!