It's Wednesday. Time again for stacks of free Weekly papers to appear on street corners around town. With the fog finally gone and the sun shining too bright to read a computer screen outdoors, you finally have some justification for picking up dead tree products. Unless you own a Kindle. In which case you should peruse the following highlights and lowlights on your Kindle, you nerd:

SF Weekly:

Worth Reading: Investigative journalism is alive and well with "Ranger Noir", Matt Smith's story about corruption within the San Francisco Park Patrol Division. Patrollers are apparently running an overtime pay racket led by Patrol Chief Mark Santiago. It's a story of corruption and backscratching that definitely needs to be out there, but it's not exactly Chinatown, you know? The only waterlogged evidence here is Santiago's cellphone - which he claimed he dropped in water to avoid divulging his call history.

Funny: Jonathan Kauffman reviews Piccino, where everyone is beautiful, all the waiters have "Stephen Malkmus hair" and "the pizzas are as big around as an LP". Wait, are we having dinner or on the prowl at the record store?

Look out restauranteurs: That Michael Jackson track you have on the jukebox could cost you a harsh $40 grand in copyright fees.

Don't Bother: Jimmy Eat World, that pop-punk band you sort of thought you liked for a minute in 2001 until you came to your senses when you heard "The Middle" for the umpteenth time, revisits their breakthrough album Bleed American.

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Worth Reading: It's the Sex issue and while we cringe a little bit thinking about Boss Brugman getting all hot and bothered throwing this thing together, there are some gems in there: First of all here's San Francisco's Best Ass. And then there's Caitlin Donohue's story about how she once had her drink stolen by a demanding woman at a Hard French queer soul dance party - which later turns out to be a profile of famous dominatrix and whip-smart feminist Princess Donna, of

There's also Oona Robertson's horror story about spending ten minutes trying to buy a 12-pack of condoms at the Church and Market Safeway. This has public health advocates worried. It also has us worried, because we could be doing way sexier things with those ten minutes than waiting in line at Safeway.

Funny: Food writer Paul Reidinger is retiring from the food writing game and in his farewell column he writes about food writing as if it were actually food. This is after he regrets not being able to pay us all for reading his columns.

Meanwhile, this week's editorial dismisses Central Subway supporters who dismiss the critics. You know... supporters like last week's guest opinion columnists who dismissed critics of the Central Subway.

Don't Bother: There are apparently a lot of club nights in San Francisco where you can get high and listen to reggae.

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Worth Reading: Coffee historians know Peet's Coffee patriarch Alfred Peet can be credited (blamed?) for the whole Starbucks revolution and the next wave of specialty coffee roasters that followed it. Everyone clings to Peet's simply because it's, well, not Starbucks. So cover story "How Peet's Starbucked Itself" has been a long time coming, we suppose.

Also: Why hasn't the long-shuttered Parkway Theater re-opened yet? Can someone please help theater proprietor J. Moses Ceasar do that already?

Funny: John Birdsall introduces breakfast at Oakland's Paisan and Boot and Shoe Service by describing the scrappy things he used to cook hungover in a pizza kitchen. Breakfast at either restaurant will not be anything like that, we presume.

Bonus: US Teens smoke more pot than Dutch, says UC Berkeley study.

Don't Bother: A review of Moneyball. Ugh, we get it, Oakland. You guys got Brad Pitt. Stop it.