When I arrived at the startup house, I walked downstairs and was greeted with what looked like a basement ripe for a party I would have loved in college. The only problem was that there was no one there—seriously not one person.

"Beer. Dance floor. Shot bar. Food truck. Girls." Nerds. Obliviousness. Poor judgment. Skewed cultural views. Social regression. Bros. MySQL. Crushing it. A party atmosphere combined with everything that makes the rest of the world hate you, Silicon Valley: this party is not smart.

The merging of America's traditional Haute Asshole cohort and the new economic engine is happening faster than predicted: just look at how many Silicon Valley fixtures were at last night's San Francisco love IPO between the West and Kardashian families.

Your standard variety gentrification is trifling compared to what the Twitter IPO is about to do to San Francisco. The situation is so untenable that urban policy experts have started using a new term to describe it: hyper gentrification.

If you're looking for housing in San Francisco and aren't literally Ev Williams, you might want to consider just killing yourself or trying to find a place in prison: Curbed reports "more than 100 people" just tried to buy condos in the Mission that are setting records for insane overpricing.

Members of the Service Employees International Union gathered outside Twitter's Mid-Market headquarters yesterday, with one protestor carrying a sign that read "Don't Twit on Me."

Silicon Valley's new money imitates its urban center: awkward, underdeveloped, and hoping so very badly to be noticed. So it's no mistake that the buzziest addition to the San Francisco social scene is The Battery, a private clubhouse that apes so much that's lame and gauche about Manhattan.

When you're one of the richest men in the world and supreme software asshole non plus ultra, flaking out on a 60,000 person conference to watch your yacht team instead is totally cool.

Haven't you heard? San Francisco is literally hell, a place where crusted-over old guard socialites mix—cautiously—with tech arrivistes. Vanity Fair has a foie gras slab of an article on the uneasy unity of sclerotic blue bloods and geeks. We've found the best (worst) chunks for you. Come on, look at that guy!

Larry Ellison is continuing his push to be the supervillain San Francisco deserves. He already has supervillain money, a supervillain island, and now, after cheating in his own yacht race, his minions are running wild across the city defrauding exotic dancers.

"Frat Mason" isn't actually a college fraternity, but it might as well be. The coveted new San Francisco neighborhood clustered around Fort Mason park—where rehabbed military housing ranges from $3,600 for a two-bedroom to $12,000 for a three-bedroom—features a waiting list, a clubby atmosphere, and gender norms a plenty, reports the San Francisco Chronicle.

Enjoy your life this very moment, because there is real suffering in the world: a tipster tells us LinkedIn's luxury shuttle is suffering from a mechanical failure. Its riders are sitting on the curb—will they have to interact with the homeless? How will they get to Mountain View?

These days, "it takes an equity event (or two) for an entrepreneur to even afford to stay [in San Francisco]," says Louis Gray head of Google Developers Live, who predicts "an odd phase of the inner city in reverse, with the less privileged fleeing to the outskirts and commuting in to work with those who've already hit it big."

As of June, the average price for a 1 bedroom condo in San Francisco was $630,000, but there's still room before the market hits "peak exuberance," argues Priceonomics. In 2000, 74 percent of homes sold above asking price; in the first half of 2013, only 64 percent did. "Only."

Brit Morin, Silicon Valley's favorite camp counselor, is expanding her plagiarist DIY movement: the San Francisco Business Times says her macaroni-gluing firm "signed a three-year lease for a 9,700-square-foot office near Union Square," putting those investment millions to work. That's a lot of space to fill shoeboxes with glitter.

It's not easy to innovate—no one ever said it'd be easy. You've got things like "reality" and "demand" stomping on your dreams for the next delivery laundry app. What makes it even worse is the hellish condition of cesspool San Francisco, as one startup founder laments. Let's offend everyone!

"He's single!," Oprah once gushed to her audience over Gurbaksh Chahal, a studly young startup founder who only a year before had sold his company to Yahoo! for $300 million. Now he's facing 41 counts of assault.