When Vinod Khosla isn't busy blocking access to beaches, he's dishing out billions to startups through his venture capital firm. But on a recent house-hunting adventure in San Francisco, Khosla realized the products he invests in are helping price the poor out of the Bay Area.

Tom Fallows works as a product director at Google. He's also—if you believe the words of San Francisco's "Counterforce" protest group—a "capitalist shit bag," and everything wrong with techie gentrification. To prove their point, The Counterforce is denouncing Fallows on his own doorstep.

While most San Franciscans are struggling to get to and from work today following Muni's sickout, which left approximately 67% of city's buses parked in the yard, a line built explicitly to serve the Mid-Market tech corridor where Twitter's headquarters are located was up and running all morning.

San Francisco's housing market is now more exuberant than the dotcom boom, leaving eviction notices for longtime tenants and all cash buyers in a bidding frenzy. Even renting a couch in some dude's living room now comes with a sweat equity clause.

"World change" is such an amorphous ambition. To get a clearer picture of what that looks like on the ground, consider this statistic from San Francisco's Human Services Agency: income inequality in the cradle of innovation is now par with Rwanda.

We've given Twitter flak in the past for taking millions in tax cuts and giving back to its neighbors in questionable ways. But a new partnership with a homeless care group looks like the real deal.

After a string of protests has failed to put the brakes on the increasingly hated "Google Bus" network, the San Franciso Examiner reports activists are taking the city to court, along with its cushy tech friends.

New York City Council wants to join the fight against illegal Airbnbs, prompted by data from the hotel lobby. Earlier "a trio of well-connected San Franciscans" backed a ballot that might reward neighbors for reporting law-breaking hosts. You know how tech millionaires don't realize they're not the underdogs anymore. . .

New Bay Area rules: every tech company demonstration must have a gimmick. The Tax Day protest outside Twitter had stick-on mustaches mocking Mayor Ed Lee; the one outside Apple had $15 billion coupons.

This past Friday, Business Insider's Kyle Russell (above) covered an anti-eviction protest that targeted a high-ranking Google exec. While walking home, Russell put on his Google Glass, at which point he says it was torn off his face and smashed to bits.

Anti-Google activists are at someone's front door again today: Jack Halprin, a top member of the company's legal squadron, is allegedly forcing parents, children, and teachers out of a San Francisco property he owns.

You have to hand it to Startupland. Where else could a company figure out its tax obligations only after the market says it's worth $10 billion? An even better trick is chanting "sharing" all the way to an IPO.

NEMA, the luxury apartment building located 256 feet from Twitter's Mid-Market headquarters has been ham-fisted in its attempts to woo The Vested. They have to be when one-bedrooms start at $3,388/month.

Same as it ever was, reports the San Francisco Chronicle. In 1999, at the peak of the boom: "Startups turned warehouses into offices. Venture capitalists poured money into companies with no earnings. Chronicle reporters wrung their hands about the disappearing soul of the Mission."

Not every programmer who comes out West panning for digital gold hits it rich. But the bottom rung of Startupland can be a fun if you find the right benefactor, reports Re/Code.

Airbnb has been a blessing in disguise for San Francisco landlords itching to evict their tenants. The Chronicle says three-day eviction notices for Airbnb use are on the rise. Other landlords claim illegal Airbnb activity to skip the 72-hour "cure or quit" period.

If you squint a little, New York by the bay is slowly turning into a cartoon. The next step in our favorite class warfare diorama: a boutique hotel bucking the backlash by offering cocktails on the house for anyone with a locally despised, $1,500 face computer.