The holiday gift guide is a classic journalistic convention, up there with full-team Prime Day coverage (with Amazon affiliate links, naturally), “reviews,” or, you know, blurbs or some shit, of the latest “must-have” socks (including links to direct-to-consumer websites), and other essential gift guides: Valentine’s Day, Galentine’s Day Eve, Dads & Grads, Black Friday, Mothers & Assorted Others Day, Successful Major Elective Surgery, Divorce Finalization, Cyber Monday, Arbor Day, Day ending in Y, Movember, National Donut Day, and Julianne Moore’s birthday. (It was last week — you can still shop for great deals at Sephora!)
Who doesn’t love gifts? And what editor doesn’t love tasking their team with throwing together a list of crap with the help of some little elves (read: publicists) to rake in those fractions of affiliate dollars?
Here’s a short guide to gifts for some of our favorite people. Who cares if they were naughty or nice this year: everyone wins when you follow these links and buy, buy, buy. (Editor’s note: Gazetteer does not use affiliate links. Please send your fractions of a penny directly to us via Zelle, Venmo, or Camel Cash.)
Alex Karp: For the excitable Palantir CEO who lives in a constant state of fear and who can’t seem to sit still while talking to Andrew Ross Sorkin, 16 oz. of soothing caffeine-free Chai from SF’s Red Blossom Tea Company, which is sure to chill him way out.
Mark Zuckerberg: For the newly buff CEO of Meta, 4 fluid oz. of Muscle® Juice Maximum Definition Posing Oil a breathable, natural muscle enhancing lotion to make his every hard-earned sinew shine under the bright lights of competition and Congressional subpoena.
Peter Thiel: For Silicon Valley’s foremost philosopher of the eschaton, the 25th anniversary edition of Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkin’s Left Behind, which tells the story of God’s final judgment in excruciating, gory, nonbeliever-slaying detail. Sure, the book is actually 30, but that edition has apparently been raptured directly to the remainder bin.
Becca Bloom: For San Francisco’s preeminent nouveau riche TikToker, a pair of dainty caviar spoons from San Francisco's very own Caviar Co., all the better to plate her peckish pet’s piscine provisions with. And if you want to really flaunt your wealth while our economic system breaks down, why not spring for the company’s swanky caviar server, crafted by the ceramicist Erin Hupp? It would look simply darling in her next trillion-view TikTok.
Daniel Lurie: For our favorite newbie politician who loves posting on social media almost as much as he loves saying “SF is back,” we suggest the Jack & Jill wooden vlogger kit for ages 3+, on sale for $26.99 from Montessori ‘n’ Such. Made from sustainable, chemical-free wood, this is the perfect way for the Mayor to practice his Instagram and TikTok posts safely offline until he’s ready to perform as the city’s influencer-in-chief on the actual Internet. The entire kit fits into a drawstring canvas bag so Lurie can take it with him on his daily walks around the city.
Karla Marcotte: For when mid-tier TikToker and San Francisco’s most feared restaurant critic can’t take the heat in the kitchen, one Fangirl by Remi, an influencer-approved 2-in-1 phone-mounted fan and ring light to cool her down, lest she unleash her digital wrath on another small business. At $21.99, it’s cheaper than most entrees in the city, but that doesn’t really matter when your meals are comped as part of a collab.
Sam Altman: For the sad-eyed CEO of OpenAI, give the gift of these Ultrablack Z87+ sunglasses from Heat Wave Visual. These bad boys sport the darkest tint on the market, which is great for Sam’s soulless — oops! we mean sensitive — blue eyes while he thousand-yard stares into the global spotlight. Plus, whether he’s on a panel or at a board meeting, no one will be able to see while he slips into a reverie of regret and quietly weeps for all the evil he’s loosed upon the world. He can inwardly grapple with the human cost of innovation and keep on rockin’!
Elon Musk: For the world’s sometimes wealthiest person, a 25-inch lollipop from Oh, Nuts that he can lick all by himself and not share with anyone because he doesn’t care that no one wants to come to his birthday, they’re all jerks and he gets to have the bounce house all to himself and be the magician’s assistant over and over even though his tricks are so stupid and babyish and why did his parents get him a stupid magician he hates magic and he hates them and one day he will show them, he will show everyone.
Gavin Newsom: For our state’s handsome, toothsome governor, we recommend The Marvis Flavor Collection Gift Set, a selection of 7 artfully-packaged travel size Italian toothpastes available for $36 from C.O. Bigelow. Since the governor likes to keep his socials spicy, he’ll enjoy polishing his seemingly AI-generated chompers with a dab of Amarelli Licorice or Ginger Mint. When his inexhaustible supply of hot air gets a little stale, Classic Strong Mint can freshen it up. And, of course, between LED sessions, a bit of Whitening Mint will keep his perfect smile whiter than the voters he’ll need to win over on his road to the White House.
Marin MAHA moms: For the generous NorCal mothers doing their part to bring back measles and other childhood diseases, we recommend this to-die-for RFK Jr. sequin pillow for $35.47 ($45.47 with insert) on Etsy. Imagine how cozy your kids will be lounging on this 16”x16” faux suede pillow bearing the weathered, smug face of the man who discouraged you from vaccinating them? The cool feel of the sequins will soothe their rashy skin as they watch hours of Bluey and pass the days in your $2 million home until they’re uninfectious enough to go back to their Waldorf school. And at night, after you’ve tucked in your four little ones, called out good night to your husband who’s in the basement again doing god knows what, you can kiss the RFK Jr. before slipping between your organic Coyuchi sheets to scroll through unverified news stories, poorly-sourced health influencer posts, and pictures of your high school classmates who’ve gotten so, so fat.
AI startup kids: For the young Stanford dropouts grinding on their AI startups and driving up rent prices, get them what they’ve been dreaming of: Four more years of undergrad! Instead of giving these crazy kiddos enough capital to crash the global economy, let them work out their social anxiety and sexual frustration via adult-supervised class projects. Let them host Blade Runner 2049 watch parties in their dorm rooms. Let them heal from COVID in a social, structured environment that leaves the rest of us out of it! In fact, quite a few of these founders have expressed their yearning for college to our reporters, so this year, give them the gift of a brand-new backpack, a kiss on the forehead, and four glorious years of philosophy discussion sections.
